Mark Edward Hall

SOUL THIEF

A Novel by Mark Edward Hall

“The Soul Thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to destroy.”

John10:10

PART ONE

TRINITY

PROLOGUE

APRIL 19^th

On the night of April 19th the Callaghan family of Exeter New Hampshire was settling down to watch television after their evening meal. The Callaghans were an ordinary American family. Ben Callaghan, husband, father, little league coach, worked in the plumbing and heating business. Peg Callaghan was a full time mother and housewife. Ben and Peg Callaghan had two children: twelve year old Jason and six year old Trinity.

Just after eight PM the doorbell rang. The family dog, a yellow Labrador retriever named Dingo, raised his hackles and began to bark.

“Would you please see who that is?” Ben Callaghan asked his son Jason. He was watching Survivor on television and the interruption was an irritation.

“Sure,” Jason said, getting up off the couch and heading for the door. There were two doors, actually, an inner door that led out onto a glassed-in porch and an outer door that led to the front steps.

When Jason opened the inner door the dog rushed past him still barking frantically. This did not bother Jason much, for the dog always barked when someone came to the door. It was usually an excited, tail-wagging bark, because the Callaghan family had many friends and sometimes these friends brought treats for Dingo.

Someone’s coming to the door. Good. This shouldn’t take any time at all. They’d better shut that dog up, though. I hate dogs almost as much as they hate me.

Jason switched on the outside light and saw the silhouette of a person standing beyond the glass of the outer door. Jason could not discern any features; just the vague form of someone who seemed very tall, dressed in what looked like a black raincoat with an attached hood. Outside the howling wind of a spring storm gusted sheets of rain against the door’s window. Dingo saw the silhouette too, and this only heightened his frantic baying.

“Come on,” Jason said, taking Dingo by the collar and dragging him back into the house. The dog did not want to go. He began to yelp and yowl, pulling to get free. His teeth were bared and a ring of white foam had formed around his mouth. This was not like Dingo at all.

That’s good, the dog is going away. I won’t have to do anything unpleasant out here where people might see. Wouldn’t be good for public relations. Now it’ll just be me and the boy. After that, well, I’ll go inside and party for a little while.

“Who is it?” Peg Callaghan asked in irritation, looking up at her son from the program on the television.

“Don’t know yet,” replied Jason in exasperation. “But the dog’s acting weird. Would you keep him in here?”

“Sure,”

“It’s the Collector,” Trinity said.

“What did you say?” Peg asked, looking over at her daughter in puzzlement.

Trinity sat forward in her seat staring at the door with wide eyes. “The Collector. He’s come for me.”

“What are you talking about, Trinity? And how do you even know that word?”

“Collector?” Trinity said with a shrug. “I don’t know. I might have learned it in school. Or maybe I heard it in a dream.” She shrugged again, her eyes glassy and distant. “But I’m not kidding. You’ll see.”

The dog began to howl again, this time they were long and mournful wails like that of a wolf worshiping some distant heavenly body.

“Settle down!” Ben Callaghan hollered at the dog, picking up the remote control to raise the volume. His command fell on deaf ears. The dog would not shut up.

Jason quickly backed out onto the porch and closed the inner door behind him, hoping to block out the dog’s incessant racket. In the distance he heard his father yelling angrily at Dingo.

“Coming!” Jason hollered to the caller whose dark silhouette was still visible beyond the rain-smeared glass. But something made Jason hesitate. He had this strange feeling in his chest, like there was a hand around his heart giving it a squeeze. His breath had become shallow and an eerie coldness surrounded him. For a moment he thought he might throw up. He stood for a long moment just looking at the door and hearing the dog caterwauling behind him. He’d answered the door hundreds of times to dozens of friends and family and had never felt this way before. He could not understand what was wrong all of a sudden.

Open the door, Jason! A cold voice inside his head seemed to say. Open it now!

Jason obeyed the voice, walking trance-like to the door. He put his hand on the knob and pulled the door open. And the last thought to enter his mind before he died was, there’s something wrong with this man.

Inside the house, the dog bayed so loudly it sounded like a scream of terror.

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