Seeing his wolf was even more painful. He was white, pure and snowy white. The only difference is the eyes, his eyes were blue. They were a clear blue, like the Egyptian sky at midday, but I missed the deep, soulful green of Bantam. It’s ironic really, he was not small... at all or in any way, but he was aggressive and spirited but only in a protective way.
I stared into his eyes, blinking slowly. His wolf was quite old, wise and I wouldn’t believe would be the first time he’s been a werewolf. But he wouldn’t know that, he wouldn’t remember. A soul is always reincarnated, never as another being but they will always forget who they were before. Humans for example, when they pass, they’re souls if they’re at rest will go to a new body instantly. But they may not look the same as before. The older the soul, the wiser they become and the more likely they are to remembering who they used to be.
It’s my job, well, I always say my as if it is me. But it’s not. Not really, my soul was stolen and forever to reside within the ankh around my neck, until I die, where I will join the God’s on their plane. But Anubis inhabits my body now, it is his job that I am deemed to do and it is his voice that inhabits my mind beside my own. But, my job is to collect souls and to help them on their way; unfortunately that means that if a soul becomes attached to a body I have to sever that connection and thus, kill them. But don’t hate me! Everyone always hates or fears me, please don’t, I help them to their destination to fulfil their destiny and move on to another life!
Another part of my job is to gather the souls of the Demi-Gods: that’s us. We are immortal, but there are ways and means (that I am clearly not going to disclose here) of killing us. When that happens, I am to collect their soul and carry them to Valhalla, Heaven, whatever they believed in. But I am not the only soul-carrier. There are loads of other ancient religions and new religions that need the attention of a soul-carrier; this is so there is always one of us at work. Never have we all been wiped out at once, for if we ever did chaos would envelop the world – you have been warned.
Alas, back to the bus, that’s what you want, right?
I was sat staring at the wolf with a smile. Ahh the beauty, who can look into the eyes of a wolf and not fall in love? He was mournful, using his body to protect Lazarus from harming himself, as such; the wolf could also not drink alcohol... at least not from a bottle. I was in awe, it had been a while – a very long while. “Oh you...you are perfect,” I reached out a hand to his fur, my eyes shimmering with glee. He watched my hand and I was cautious, I was immortal, doesn’t mean I couldn’t lose a hand.
Russell appeared on his knees: “hey, can I touch you too?”
I ignored Russell, my eyes focused on the perfect, ghostly form before me, “oh, you poor soul,” I cooed, tears almost springing to my eyes at the pure emotion: pure mournful, sad emotion that drowned this wolf’s eyes. I lightly stroked behind his ear, bringing it round to his cheek where I moved away. It was soft, softer than anything I could ever describe to you, but the power beneath his fur rippled his muscles.
Russell brought his hand closer for the wolf to sniff and he pushed him back, making sure he was belly-up and submissive. Here, he fell closer to me; my nose twitched, his smell, the conversation that had taken place earlier. This man... I swallowed back the growl in my throat and watched.
Russell stared into the wolf’s eyes, “if you want me to stay away, that’s fine,” he whined. But the wolf was looking at me, transfixed, like he knew I was different. I asked him politely, to leave Russell and let me ‘talk’ to him, he was compliant, unusually so and wandered off down the bus. “Do you think he hates me?” He looked at me and I couldn’t help the snarl that emitted from my throat.
Anubis looks exactly like that of the pictures you’ll find in history books. His muzzle and ears are substantially thinner and longer than the wolf’s. His limbs are longer and the claws that emitted from his hands were golden. This was my form now, triggered by the stench coming from Russell and those claws proved useful to hoist him up by his throat so he was eye-level. “I do not care as to his thoughts on you,” I grinned, making sure he could see my long canines, “thing is I hate you.”
I ignored all of Mog’s protests, his annoying whines and whimpers. At one point, he even asked if I had ever loved at one point. No, no, I didn’t like this at all, Anubis was choosing to play with Mog, but his soul should’ve just been reaped by now. “You’re a dirty fate changer, a reckless warlock with a penchant for letting his emotions get the better of him. Do you know what I do with lost souls?” His blank face clearly showed he didn’t. I threw him back into his chair and changed back.
He had been warned, the fear struck into his heart. Yet here I was again, sat alone. Russell would now hate me and Mog clearly did. Lazarus, if he didn’t now I’m sure he would later. So here I am; alone, hated and cold. How can anyone love death? They don’t even understand what pandemonium would be inflicted if people like Russell could be left to roam free. But no one trusts me.
I looked out of the window, sighing. Perhaps it would be better if I faded away for a bit – go back to Egypt.