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Soul Tormentor: Soul Collector Series Book 4

Soul Tormentor: Soul Collector Series Book 4

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The war against evil just got personal…

Shane Ryan is no stranger to violence. He still carries the scars left by his battles against supernatural evil. But when a new enemy targets the people Shane served with in the Corps, the retired Marine finds himself trapped in a deadly game of cat and mouse.

With only his young friend Tom Daniels to watch his back, Shane travels across America. Every move he makes is monitored. Everything he says or does is watched. And if he fails to follow this mysterious villain’s instructions, his fellow Marines will die.

Trapped, Shane and Tom must navigate a sadistic maze of torture and bloodshed. But they are not the only ones caged in this sinister prison.

The man responsible for this vendetta lurks in the shadows. A spirit of unthinkable evil has been unleashed. And both crave revenge.

But so does Shane Ryan. Someone hurt his friends. And now, he’s going to make them pay. No matter who—or what—he has to kill to do it…

237 pages


Chapter 4: The House

The conference room’s unnatural cold brought a smile to Constantine’s face. He settled down into the chair as Mikayla laid out large photographs in front of him.

Sunlight streamed through the floor- to- ceiling windows, and an old man sat at the far end of the table. The stranger wore a soft grey tweed suit and a pair of dark sunglasses.

A cane leaned against the table beside him, and his hands were folded and on the table’s surface.

Mikayla finished setting out the photos, refilled Constantine’s water and put his pain medication in front of him. Without another word, she exited the room.

Constantine and the stranger remained seated.

Constantine took his pill, washed it down and asked, “Is this supposed to impress me?”

The stranger turned toward Constantine and unclasped his hands. In silence, the old man reached into his suitcoat and retrieved a small case. Constantine watched as the stranger slowly placed the case on the table’s surface.

Constantine raised an eyebrow and waited.

“He won’t speak without permission,” a sharp British voice said. The words came from the other side of the table and caused Constantine to jerk in his seat.

A man appeared in a chair across from him.

The new man was dead, the world visible through him as if Constantine were peering through a dirty window.

The ghost wore a battered uniform, one crusted with frozen blood and ice. His sharp face and clear eyes sent a shiver of fear through Constantine.

Clearing his throat, Constantine asked, “And who are you?”

The ghost chuckled. “I am the one you asked for. Colonel Malcolm Fleming, 41 Commando, Royal Marines. You, I was informed, are in need of a man to coordinate your operations and, if possible, remove a certain individual for whom you carry a grudge.”

Constantine bristled at the idea of his vengeance being nothing more than a grudge.

Colonel Fleming grinned, and Constantine saw his ire was exactly what the dead man had wanted.

“Yes, I want a head of operations,” Constantine confirmed. “And I want my problem individual removed permanently.”

“That,” the colonel stated, “is not something I can necessarily promise. Things happen, sir. Events and occurrences which cannot be controlled. For instance, the Chinese were to have destroyed us at Chosin. While they succeeded in killing me, my men escaped. Young Jonathan made certain to bring my body out.”

Constantine glanced at young Jonat han and wondered how old the man had been when he had retrieved the colonel’s corpse.

Constantine focused on Colonel Fleming once more. “I’m willing to hire you.”

“I am willing to be hired,” the dead man chuckled.

“What’s your price?” Constantine tried to keep his voice neutral.

“Quite a bit, sir,” Colonel Fleming informed him. “Jonathan here has an extensive family. We would like to ensure they are financially secure for the rest of their lives. If this is something you are capable of, well then, you and h is financial advisor can work out the finer details.”

“Money, I am pleased to say, is not an issue.” Constantine forced a smile. He glanced at the old man seated at the far end of the table. “Why him?”

A flicker of displeasure passed over the dead man’s face. For a moment, it seemed as though he wasn’t going to answer Constantine’s question, then a mask of calmness settled over the ghost’s features.

“Jonathan is special,” Colonel Fleming explained. “He fought beside me in Korea.

He dragged my frozen corpse away from where I died to ensure a proper burial. When I returned as a ghost, he dedicated his life to me.”

Constantine nodded toward Jonathan. “Why is he wearing those damned sunglasses inside? It’s not that bright in here.”

“No,” the dead man agreed in a dry tone. “It is not that bright in here. Corporal Jonathan Tempest lost his eyesight to a bit of shrapnel as he was hauling me away. He only allowed the medics to bind his wound, and then he tethered himself to the man in front. This way, he did not get lost during the withdrawal. He also tied my body to his own. The point, sir, is that he is blind. When he returned home to Blighty, well, no woman wanted a damaged man. He was fortunate in that he had a large and loving family. They cared for him, and he cared for me. Young Jonathan knows his time is short. We want to make certain his family does not want as they age. Thus, sir, this is where you come in.”

“Ah,” was the only response Constantine felt capable of uttering.

“Now, tell me,” Colonel Fleming began. “Who is this person you are so utterly intent on destroying?”

Constantine’s heart thundered in his chest as he straightened up and told the dead man about Shane Ryan.

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