The Vault loomed on high like the darkest mansion on the darkest corner of every street; the kind of building that, as a child, you threw rocks at it and spat at it and made up terrifying stories about the former inhabitants. Or current. But, deep down inside, as a kid, you knew that that old house wasn't really inhabited, was it? No one lived inside. Not one bogeyman, or monster-under-the-bed. You knew for sure that even rats weren't inside. You never asked why the rats strayed from entering that cursed place; not even once.

But, still, with all of its false reputation and its simple lack of light and the "just shadows" inside, you stayed away.

And you worked up the courage to go up to the lawn where the rocks always fell, where the curses lied. For all you knew the grass stayed alive in its beige, withered state only by your spit.

And you worked up the courage to go up to the house itself, where you saw the “just shadows” and heard the strange noises. You know that there’s nothing to be scared of, right? Right? Everything is simply a “figment of the imagination.” Just a mouse, or a rat.

But there weren’t any rats inside the house, right?

Nah…

And you walked up to the porch and you heard the creaking floorboards as you stepped over to the blackness of the window and you grinned nervously as your friends stood watching. They knew that you knew that you thought you knew that there wasn’t anything inside that old place.

And suddenly, the caw of a crow, or a raven, makes you jump.

And that’s not even half as bad as the shadowy figure that lays its hand on your shoulder, through the window.

Turning, you think that you can see a grin. But it’s hard to tell in this light. Hard to tell because your vision is blurry. Hard to tell as the sweat runs over your eyes. You can’t wipe it off, you’re shaking so violently.

And then…

The dead run.

Funny you should call it that, as you leap over the banister and make headway straight toward the gate. You trip and almost fall, but your adrenaline keeps you well balanced as you sprint to where your friends were. But they’re not there anymore. They saw it too.

Asmen had thrown rocks at houses when she was a child; almost everyone had. The Vault looked all the part of that old mansion she had run away from. She had been the gutsy one.

It was worth the dollar’s worth of candy she had eaten afterwards. At least her friends had paid up.

The Vault had eyes. Two, massive windows, up on high. And one large door for a mouth. It didn’t sneer, but on its own, the placid expression it gave chilled her to the bone. She didn’t want to go inside, but Jorus’s stalwart expression reassured her.

Almost reassured her.

When they stopped in front of the door, Jorus fumbled in his pocket for a key ring. Shifting her weight from foot to foot, Asmen felt uncomfortable in the looming might of the giant beast. By god, if she would have known what she was getting into, she would have turned FIMBA down, even if they would have asked her for a million pieces. For eternal life, she would have kicked it.

“Are you sure the key’s on that ring? You may have left it in the house. Why don’t we go back and see?” Asmen coughed politely.

Jorus scowled. “I don’t leave anything in that house but my body when I have to rest. It’s made for shelter; the ranch is made for living. I keep what I need with myself.” He turned back to the dim light shining through the massive doors. “Besides; you really need to see this.”

Leafing through the ring, he mumbled, “House, laboratory, guest house, primary shed, master stable key…”

She wished anything could have reassured her. The fact that she had to sleep in a separate house did not make her feel any better. She felt safe around Jorus, if only because of his stern demeanor.

“…hot springs, swimming pool, crypt, vault, third house, library… oh, wait, I just passed it. Here we go.”

Turning back two keys, Jorus pulled out one that looked identical to the rest. Maybe it was just the light. Come to think of it, how had he known what key it was in such little light? Well, he had so many. Obviously he had memorized them for efficiency.

Obviously.

“Are you sure this is safe? After all, it’s a huge, open ranch in the middle of nowhere. Anything could be living out here.” Asmen shifted uncomfortably. “I slipped through your guards.”

Jorus grinned and returned the conversation. “Well, to be quite truthful, anyone who takes that kind of trouble to come and find me is probably worth seeing. Besides, I was expecting you.” He inserted the key into the hole and turned it, hearing a click. Opening the door, he continued. “I don’t guard the dead woods because of that very first reason. Any misfit or common troublemaker would be taken care of by my tigers.”

Tigers that could eliminate any threat weren’t to be trusted. Power breeds corruption; unless Jorus had taught his monsters to be ethically clear-headed, there was no reason for them to stick around. Unless Jorus was stronger than his monster… That was nigh impossible, come to think about it. But Hector had obeyed every command like a trained dog. The only difference being that all dogs were much less powerful then the average monster. Maybe…

Stepping inside, Asmen found herself in a small reception area. A few couches and chairs littered a small area Asmen could call a “recreation room.” Several doors lined the walls and a fountain of what looked to be a beautiful pixie stood in the center of the room.

“My god, this is magnificent,” Asmen said, breathless. Wandering around like a lost child, she headed over to the fountain and caressed the side, gazing at the figure in the center.

“It’s only a model.”

“What?”

“The fountain. It’s only a model. The real one is by the hot springs.”

“There’s a bigger one?” Asmen could only imagine what kind of person could carve such a thing of beauty.

“Perhaps we’re losing ourselves. Asmen, I’m Jorus. And you’re Asmen. Now stop looking like a confused animal and let’s get going to the Soul Forge.”

Grabbing her hand, Jorus lead her away from the fountain and over to a door marked “S.A.” Opening it, he led her down a few darkened corridors until they came to a huge room. Asmen was at a greater loss of words then with the fountain.

Crystals of every shape and size littered the walls, ceiling, and floor of the Soul Forge, or whatever Jorus had called it. He was pretty sure this would have a worse effect then the fountain; he just wasn’t sure how bad.

Just as Asmen opened her mouth to speak, a swirling pinpoint of light ejected from one of the crystals and hovered around the pair. As she later recalled, the little pinpoint spoke.

“Master? Is that you? It’s been a while since you’ve visited the Asylum.”

“That can talk?” Asmen shook her head. “I must be imagining this.”

“And you brought someone else with you? It looks different. It sounds different then you, too. Is it human?”

Jorus held up his left hand—as his right was currently occupied—and said, “Yes, it’s human, Corvix. But it’s female. She’s a woman, Corvix.”

Somehow, Asmen noted, the light seemingly became puzzled.

“And in all two-hundred of my years I’ve never seen one?”

“Corvix… Women don’t traditionally go to the battles you fought at.”

“Ah. Then, being you male, be she your mate?”

Jorus let go of Asmen’s hand and speedily walked over to the crystal Corvix had exited from. Then, without hesitation, he kicked it.

The little light began to dance more speedily, as if it had became agitated. “Sorry, sorry, master. I should not make such uneducated guesses!”

Caressing the crystal, the light began to slow down. Jorus let it go and apologized. “Sorry, Corvix. The guess was educated; I guess it struck home, though. This woman—Asmen is her name—has been pressed into my care by FIMBA. Do you remember FIMBA?”

“Quite well, actually,” said Corvix.

“Well, they finally sent me the assistant I asked for so long ago.” He slowly walked over to one of the crystals, which seemed new, and more polished, then the rest.

“Whose crystal is that?” Asmen asked.

“This crystal is about ten years old, I believe. I managed to extract this soul just before its body gave way.

“I plan to use his soul to get into the False Moon; he can help me with it.”

“How do you plan to use a monster’s soul to find way into your False Moon?”

Jorus scowled and drew out what looked to be a firearm. “Soul Pistol,” he said. “The soul enters like a bullet and is fired out like one. When it penetrates the resulting body, it becomes one with it. In this case, though, I’m going out on a limb. I don’t have enough time to transfer the soul from a live body to a crystal, so I’ll have to be pleased with a joint occupation.”

“Joint occupation?” Asmen said.

“When two or more souls occupy the same body.”

Oh, next chapter is "Duality"

And I would appreciate any comments on the previous works to guide me through my future ones.

I like the description of the house, and the comments you made about the "Dead run". You make everything flow together really well.