Chapter 7

Two days of stalking passed before I built up the courage to attack the beast; raccoons were cuddly in cartoons, but not so much outside of them. Then again, raccoons weren’t 100 lbs in Disney movies.

The raccoon had jowls like a bulldog, patchy fur torn from fighting, and the stench of piss and fecal matter wrapped around it like a filthy cloud. God hadn’t given me a break since I stole the priest’s soul.

I pressed the little essence I had into hardening the skin around my left arm and raised the mace above my head. My left arm became a shield, and my right arm held my weapon. Admittedly, the plan was stupid, but it worked for Prince Philip when he saved Sleeping Beauty, and I couldn’t think of anything else before the beast lunged for me.

Like I thought, the raccoon gripped my sides with its razor-like claws and clamped down on the arm I raised above my helmet. But outside of my predictions, it didn’t wait for me to bring the mace down. The raccoon didn’t believe in blow for blow combat.

He jerked me side to side with a violent shake and flung me ten feet into a rotted out tree. Without waiting, the ferocious beast wrapped its jaws around my leg and dragged me out of the insect filled trunk. Spots clouded my vision, and my heart pounded, but a wild swing found its eye.

The fights with scabs hardened me to injuries, but the bite through my leg nearly ripped my calf off, and bolts of lightning shot through my spine. The adrenaline dulled the shock, but it did little to make my leg work.

My body quivered as if someone removed me from a freezer, making it hard to grip anything, but I pulled my long knife from my belt. I couldn’t stand. Even if I wanted to hop up on one leg, the beast wouldn’t let me. It had no plans to back down, but it was cautious.

The cuddly raccoon that stood chest-high circled me for an opening, but I shuffled my body and dragged my leg through the twigs and dried leaves. After a minute-long staring contest, the raccoon leaped toward my head, and I braced myself with my arm.

I doubted he could break through my helmet, but the filthy mouth full of yellow teeth was large enough to clamp down over my skull. A twist would snap my neck. I wasn’t sure I’d heal from that.

The raccoon’s jaw crushed through my arm like a chew toy, which provided me enough time to bury the knife behind its front leg. Its teeth slid across my bones like a saw, and with one final crunch, it fractured my forearm. The raccoon whimpered like a child and staggered away.

I didn’t get another stab, but I didn’t need to.

The giant raccoon stumbled and sat on the ground with its back resting on a fallen log like an old man in his favorite chair. I didn’t approach. Just watched and waited until its quick breaths ended, and its body slid across the log to the ground.

Once I was sure the beast died, I wriggled through the dirt and placed my right hand on its head. It was my first time, but I pushed the particles in my body to my hand, then pulled them to my soul quickly. Back and forth, back and forth, with each push and pull a sliver of essence flowed from the raccoon into me. I became a pump that removed the essence until none remained.

I wasn’t a powerful pump. But that didn’t matter.

If I weren’t down to two limbs, I’d pound my fist on the ground and kick my legs like I did when Aaron Davies, my first crush, kissed me on my doorstep after the 8th-grade dance. Lia thought I was crazy, kicking my legs on the bed and screaming into my pillow, but I didn’t care. The hottest guy in our class asked me to the dance and kissed me afterward.

We never talked again, and he moved that summer before high school, but draining the raccoon had me just as giddy.

It wasn’t an enormous amount, but it was enough to expand my soul twice. My first time pulling essence caused a rush of hormones so strong I forgot about the pain. It was that good.

Name: Amy Sullivan Age: 22 Expansions: 49 Essence-Particle Mass: 1.630g Expansion Mass: 0.035/0.098g Particle Output: 211.423W Attenuated Eff: 31.4% Attenuated Mass: 0.523g Attenuated Output: 66.387W Soul Status: Abnormal Body Status: Multiple Injuries/Non-critical

A compact soul. That’s what I was told by doctors when they chipped me. I had a lot of expansions, but that wasn’t a good thing. We all had expansion limits. The number of times our souls could fold. Thick layers took longer to fill and were less likely to collapse.

Nobody could predict expansion limits. I already had a large number. If I reached my limit, I’d have to stitch again, or I’d become a scab. Ultimately, mass determined strength—expansions made a soul resilient to attacks and vulnerable to collapse.

The raccoon only gave 0.17 grams of essence, but it left my body injured and exhausted. It was hard-earned progress that came with an increase in power output and a thicker protection layer. There were other ways to use essence, yet I could only think of one. My lack of creativity was embarrassing.

After checking on the corruption the scabs left me with, I healed my leg enough to walk and left the raccoon for the coyotes trailing me. Hopefully, we could come to an agreement. I always wanted a dog. Father didn’t like them. Coyotes didn’t look like the domestic type, but I was confident with a little persuasion, they’d come around.