The Soul Eaters (The Thin Hex Line Book 1) by Gwyndolyn Russell (100 best novels of all time .txt) 📗

even long after he had passed away. She saw or rather felt the way Fenris was staring at Jackal. A sense of no understanding of the situation, just wanting its master to be okay.

"It's concerned about Jack."

Michael said nothing. He had no idea why it would care. There's no way it was kept a secret for this long on the ship. He never heard Jackal mention anything like it.

Both focused on fixing Jackal's leg. Michael helped gather all the broken pieces and handed each one to Reynolds. He also handled the vacuum to clean up the little blobs of blood that floated from the cuts. They fitted the rods in place with screws. Glued the pieces back together with a special substance that would promote the growth of bones.

After half an hour, his leg was stitched back up. A specially made cast had been printed out and fitted in place. It was lightweight, designed like a spider web. He was not even going to know he had one on.

Reynolds let Michael handle the rest while she cleaned herself. All the while Fenris stood in the doorway, an unmoving statue. When it saw that Jackal was tucked under a blanket, it slowly approached for a closer look.

"He's just sleeping." Michael said.

Fenris looked to him, then down to Jackal.

"Mjolnir said he was caught in a fight." Reynolds dried her hands with a towel. "Do you happen to know?"

Maybe it understood them. Maybe it didn't. If dogs could form an understanding of humans, then surely this strange, ethereal creature could, too.

Its head lowered, shoulders dropped. A claw pointed to its chest.

Reynolds studied the creature. Each move it made. The way it breathed and how the lights on its armor faded in and out in tandem.

Whatever it was, the creature was fascinating. A new discovery. Something that had not found its way into any book she studied, or paper she read. She could not remember anything of similarity. The same armor design, the same posture. She imagined what its skeleton looked like, the way the muscles attached and wrapped.

She leaned in closer, wanting to touch it. It took all her willpower to keep her fingers from its metallic surface. The metal was scratched and dented. It showed signs of healing. Metal that could regrow like flesh. These were scars! The metal was layered on itself with elegant curves, points, and twists. Where the pieces joined up, flesh, no, black muscle sinew surfaced, attaching the pieces together.

Her self-control waned. She touched the soft flesh. Something sharp as a scalpel got her finger. She pulled back with the smallest gasp. Blood pooled at the tip of her finger, pooled into little bubbles that floated away from her.

Confused and a little frightened, she pulled away from the creature so she could stop the bleeding.

Fenris turned to her and followed her.

"It's fine. It's fine!" She said waving it off. "It's just a prick."

"What happened?" Michael stood on her other side.

"I touched it. Must have been a sharp edge."

Fenris' head tilted side to side. With a raise of its arm, all the individual layers of the armor stood up nearly straight. Both leaned in close to see.

"Sharp as a knife." Reynolds stated. "Oh, I need to study you."

Its head tilted once more as it lowered its arm.

Reynolds walked around the creature, looking it over. As she did so, it shifted from its humanoid figure to its wolf figure. That was the most interesting part. Could it control it? How did it do it? A thousand questions raced through her mind.

Fenris hovered in place, watching her as she came around.

"Dr. Reynolds, how is-" Reaper stopped mid-sentence as he pulled himself into the room.

Everyone turned to look at him.

He stared at them in confusion.

"I see you met Fenris." He scratched his cheek.

"Fenris?" Reynolds perked up. So it had a name and what a wonderful name it had. "Like the great wolf deity?"

"A wolf deity?"

"Yes. Ancient Norwegian mythos. Thousands of years ago, a tale was written about a wolf, son of one of the gods, who was feared by all the other gods due to its growing strength."

"Interesting. So you study ancient history as well as biology?"

"Only when I'm bored." She sighed. "It's come from that ship, hasn't it?"

"Yeah. Fauriei was letting him hitch a ride. Something hit them. He protected them."

"Wonderful! What of the others?"

"Fauriei was the only survivor. We were attacked. How's Jackal?"

"He's going to be asleep for a while still, but he's fine. He won't be walking on that leg for a couple of weeks."

"Fenris, did you get hurt, too?" Reaper asked.

With only silence from the creature, Reaper sighed.

"He has been watching Jackal since he came in." Michael stated.

"Must feel bad for what happened." Reaper proposed.

"What do you mean?"

"Fenris stepped on him. I think."

Their eyes widened.

Fenris' head lowered.

"One of those monsters almost got a hold of him. Fenris fought it off, but Jackal was stuck beneath them."

"He's lucky that's all he came away with." Michael looked back to Jackal, who was still asleep.

"So, it has sympathy." Reynolds touched her lip. “Does it speak?”

Reaper shrugged.

“Well, you must stay with me, Fenris!” She grinned, showing off pearly white teeth.

“There’s gonna be time. Fauriei asked us to take him where he needs to go.” Reaper stepped out the door. “Please tell me when he wakes up.”

Reaper left. Fenris watched him go, then followed him. Skirting right passed Reynolds, who tried to stop it. The creature reached up to touch his shoulder, but stopped itself.

Halting, he turned around. Arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowed. “I’m a human, man, not a fleebeeron. However, you and Fauriei talk, it ain’t working with me. Can you speak? Write?”

The creature stood there like an imposing statue. Its head tilted, the lights on the armor concentrated on one side of its face. Its jaw lowered, twitched as if it were trying to speak.

Reaper waited patiently, a blink transforming the creature into a wolf, sitting there and looking him in the eye. The crimson cracks in place