The Soul Stealer

The last vestiges of daylight had vanished as they talked. The deepening shadows of the forest seemed to reach toward the firelight like long, crooked fingers. Annja shivered as a breeze twisted around them, and the snowflakes stuck to her face before melting.

Far off in the distance, a howl punctured the serenity of the coming night. Gregor seemed unfazed by it. “Wolves,” he said simply.

“You have a lot of them around here?” Annja asked.

“Siberia is full of them,” Gregor said. “But they keep their distance. This time of year they are still not that hungry. If this was February, then we might have a problem. For now, no problem.”

“Small comfort,” Bob said. “That howl just brought back memories of those old horror movies I used to watch.”

Annja grinned. “Doesn’t help that it’s close to Halloween.”

Gregor let a genuine smile escape. “You think maybe these woods are haunted? That perhaps there are creatures living here who would do us harm?”

Annja looked at him. The firelight made shadows jump across his face, contorting his features and making him look almost comically terrifying. “I think I’ve seen a lot of things in my life that defy explanation.”

Bob said nothing, but seemed to be searching the darkness for something.

Gregor held up one hand. “I come from this area, Annja. I am no stranger to legends. Or to being scared in the woods like this.”

“I’m not scared,” she said.

He smiled. “Of course not. But here we are, in the snow and dark, with just the fire to keep the evil away. Many other people, they would find this intimidating.”

“Like me,” Bob said. “I think my mind is getting the better of me.”

Annja rubbed her hands together. “I guess this wouldn’t be a good time to tell ghost stories, then, huh?”

“Ghost stories are a way of life for those who live in Siberia,” Gregor said. “But perhaps Bob would prefer it if we did not talk about such things while his mind is busy replaying movies from his youth.”

“I can’t help it,” Bob said. “I’ve got visions of the werewolf running through my head.” He looked at Annja. “You have to admit, it fits the situation pretty well.”

“Just because we’re in the woods?” she asked.

“I was talking about that howl we heard.”

Another howl sounded in the night air. Bob jumped. Annja and Gregor both laughed.

Bob pointed a finger at Annja. “No one finds out about my fear when we get back to civilization. I just don’t think I ever outgrew those crazy flicks I used to watch as a kid.”

“I used to watch them, too,” Annja said. “I just think it’s great that a guy like you who is so accomplished and relatively fearless—I mean, you bike and camp everywhere—gets freaked out by the woods at night.”

“Yeah, well, my therapist suggested I confront my fears as much as possible. So I make a point of camping out whenever I can,” he grumbled.

“But you don’t like it,” Annja said, laughing.

“I hate it.”

Gregor laid a hand on Bob’s shoulder. “I tell you the truth—I don’t like it, either. I have to do it in the military and since then at a few times when I am on job. But I do not like being out in the dark, either. I always feel like someone else is out there watching me. No matter how much I am hidden or how concealed I make myself, it always seems like someone out there knows.”

“You feel vulnerable,” Annja said.

“Yes.”

“It’s probably a pretty common feeling. I know I’ve felt it during my life, as well,” she admitted.

Bob sighed. “Doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.”

“I’d say you’re dealing with it the best way you possibly can,” Annja said. “At least you’re not letting it paralyze you into inaction. I know of people so utterly paralyzed they let their fears dictate how they lead their lives. Most of them sit at home rocking back and forth afraid to do anything.”

“Well,” Bob said, “I couldn’t do that. After all, as much as I dislike camping at night, I love cruising everywhere on my bike.”

Annja smiled. “You see? You’re successful even in spite of your fear. I think that’s what makes us better human beings. Those of us who are able to take our fears and still generate a positive life despite the things that scare us. That’s the mark of success. At least in my book.”

Gregor nodded. “I agree with Annja. She is very wise, this woman. I appreciate her thoughtfulness in this matter.”

“Thanks, Gregor,” Annja said.

“Now we drink,” Gregor stated.

Annja sat back. “What?”

Gregor produced a small flask from his jacket. He took their cups and emptied the pine-needle tea out of them. Unscrewing the flask top, he poured equal amounts of clear liquid into them and then handed the cups to Annja and Bob.

“Now.” Gregor smiled at them both. He raised his glass then tilted his head back and threw the drink down his throat.

Annja glanced at Bob and then did the same. As the icy vodka hit her throat, it burned a path down her esophagus and then pooled in the pit of her stomach. Her head swam briefly but she managed to stifle the cough.

Bob, who had apparently been with Gregor enough times to have gone through this before, merely shot the drink down and then set his glass down. “Let everybody be healthy,” he said.

Gregor smiled. “Now we have a trip to embark upon.”

Annja was about to hand him her cup when another sound shattered the night.

But this time, it was no wolf howl.

It sounded like a human scream.

6

“What the hell was that?”

Annja peered out in the darkness. Gregor seemed poised to launch himself out into the woods.

Bob pulled them back to reality. “I don’t know, but it’s nothing nearby.”

Annja glanced at him. “You sure about that?”

He nodded. “We’re high up on a hill. Sound carries for quite a distance in these parts. That sound could have been twenty miles away from us. If we start thumping around in the pitch-black, we’ll get lost and we’ll all be injured before we find anything.”