Free The Soul Thief by Leah Cutter

metal pain in his side flared at the mention of it. “What the hell is that thing? What was it made for? Do y’all know the history of it?”
    Julie shrugged. “I don’t know. Eddie’s always had it. Used it as a power focus for the group, when we were praying and chanting.”
    “We need to talk to Eddie,” Franklin said.
    “Okay,” Julie said, nodding. Then she grinned. “Road trip.”
    Franklin chuckled. “Oh, don’t make me laugh,” he said. “It all hurts too much. What happened to me?”
    Sheriff Thompson walked through the door to the room just at that moment.
    “That’s exactly what I’d like to know. What happened to you?” the sheriff said sourly.
    Julie nodded at the sheriff as she moved to the other side of the bed, sitting in the visitor’s chair there and taking Franklin’s hand again.
    Franklin was glad for the support as the sheriff continued to stand there staring down at him with his hard eyes.
    “Well?” the sheriff said. “I’m waiting.”
    Franklin cleared his throat. “I came home from Darryl’s last night. Late. About two-thirty in the morning. When I walked into my house, there was a man there.”
    “Describe him,” the sheriff said, taking a notepad and pencil out of his sheriff’s jacket pocket.
    “He was a white man,” Franklin said. “Little taller than me. Cold gray eyes. Was wearing blue scrubs, like what Julie wears sometimes.”
    The sheriff nodded, writing things down. “Go on.”
    “He was wearing a white mask, like a doctor’s mask,” Franklin added.
    “A surgical mask?” Julie asked.
    “Sure,” Franklin said. He didn’t know the name for them.
    “Gloves?” Julie asked. “Like white surgical gloves?”
    “Nope,” Franklin said. “His hands was bare.”
    “What did he want?” the sheriff asked.
    “An old knife of mine,” Franklin said. “It were the oddest thing. He made sure I had my phone with me, told me to call 911, before he stabbed me.”
    “I looked at your report,” Julie added. “You were stabbed in an area of the torso where there couldn’t be much damage.”
    “So this guy was probably a doctor,” the sheriff said.
    “Or a nurse,” Julie pointed out. “I’d know exactly where to stab a man to do both the most damage as well as the least.”
    After a moment of awkward silence, Franklin said, “That’s my girl,” as he squeezed her hand.
    “Why did he want that knife?” the sheriff asked.
    “Beats me,” Franklin said. “But I think he was crazy. He talked about how the history books would remember me for it. How me and the knife were important.”
    The sheriff’s eyebrows went up toward his hairline. “So what kind of knife was this?” he asked, continuing.
    Franklin didn’t see any reason to lie. “It was from her friend,” he said, nodding toward Julie. “Eddie.”
    “The cra—I mean, the leader of the pagan cult we visited last year?” the sheriff asked.
    “Yes. We mean to go down and talk with Eddie to see if she can tell us about the blade,” Franklin added.
    “Good luck with that,” the sheriff said.
    Franklin remembered that the sheriff had thought Eddie was useless the year before, when they’d been chasing the creature.
    “Now tell me about your other wounds,” the sheriff said. “The ones that look like they came from thorns.”
    “I was helping Darryl with a thorn bush out in his backyard,” Franklin said, puzzled. Why did the sheriff want to know about those?
    “The scratches and punctures were all infected. Just like the ones you got last year,” the sheriff said dourly. “From that…whatever.”
    No wonder Franklin hurt so much.
    “Now, I knew you was up to something,” the sheriff added, pointing his pencil at Franklin. “You gonna tell me that thing is back?”
    “No, sir,” Franklin said. “It really was just a thorn bush in the back of Darryl’s yard. Ornery critter, yes, but not about to come after anyone.” He hoped.
    “You sure about that?” the sheriff asked.