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“Do they see the soul being stripped?”
“No. That is the reason for the dogs. To mask the effects.”
“Effects?”
“Sometimes, the skin splits away.”
He snapped his attention back to Syrisa, imagining the visual of such a thing. “That is horrible.”
“Most times, they explain it as the evil tearing through the body, but such a thing can be disturbing and cause a frenzy. So they bring in an animal to feed off it.”
“You believe her to be evil. Guilty of the crimes of which she is accused.”
“Yes.” There wasn’t a hint of doubt in Soreth’s voice, as he continued to stare in on the woman. “There is no opportunity for redemption. Her soul is as black as they come.”
“Because of what she did to those boys?”
“That. And because she once served Letifer.”
The baron could not recall whether, or not, he’d heard the name before. Perhaps Solomon had mentioned him once. “Who is he?”
“The bringer of death. He resides in Eradye and, at the moment, remains in slumber there.”
“How do you know she served him, if he remains in slumber?”
“Because, as I understand, that is what she screamed during her torments. She referred to him as her lover, who would wreak havoc on all five realms.”
“Is that what happens if he wakes from slumb–”
Screams tore through the monastery, and the baron snapped his attention toward Syrisa, whose eyes appeared to be fixed on the dogs that growled and snarled, pulling at their leashes. A chill rippled down his neck, the way she watched the animals approach.
“Unleash the hounds!” the bishop commanded, and the moment they were cut loose, the baron’s heart pounded in his throat.
In one split second, Syrisa turned, just enough that it seemed her gaze had landed on his.
He caught the slight lift of her lips, a hint of a smile.
The dogs barreled into her. Her body jostled with the assault, but she did not let out a single scream. Instead, she tipped her head back, eyes closed, while the beasts fed on her flesh.
The baron’s father, Lord Praecepsia approached the woman from behind and whispered in her ear.
Her face contorted, twisting to a look of sheer agony, and only then did she release a scream. One that carried on the air and rattled the baron’s bones.
42
JERICHO
My mind rewound back to that day at the monastery and watching Syrisa succumb to the pain. She’d had dogs mauling her without so much as a whine, but the moment my father had whispered in her ear, she was no longer silent.
I paced back and forth, drink in hand, as Soreth sat at a small table, reviewing texts he’d taken from my library, along with the grimoire I’d studied for weeks.
Letting out an exasperated huff, he sat back in his chair. “There is truly little known about the unbound.”
“Makes sense, considering they’re invisible most times.” I tipped back a sip of my drink to drown the frustration sitting heavy at the back of my throat.
“This text says that, in time, it can cast the host’s soul into subspace permanently.”
Fuck. Exactly what I didn’t want to hear. “What is it that allows it to become increasingly powerful over the host?”
