Chapter 21: The Theater of Sins

“Hot damn, I am the Cleric of Stories.” Gene clapped his hands and continued. “This is good. We know Hellie’s purpose. There is some hope of controlling this after all. I have several good references for hellhound reapers.”

This was not good!

Gene kneeled and ran his finger down the stack of books he had placed between us. I watched him in tunnel vision. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I wanted to go back to being ignorant. My uneasiness doubled when I saw Gene tremble a bit as he started reading.

“‘Reaper hellhounds rank as demigods among the hellhounds. They are a scourge summoned during times of crisis or the end of an age. Like other hellhounds, they have no classification, and their moral alignment reflects their master’s. They can be harbingers of doom or salvation. Woe to them, their fated prey—not only do they hunt to kill, they hunt to imprison souls.'”

I vehemently rejected the words “end of an age,” “doom,” and “imprison souls.” “Hellie’s not here to reap. Hellie’s here to be my companion.”

As I denied Gene, Hellie interrupted by scooting closer and tugging on Rules of the Black Arts for Advanced Users. Her new interaction befuddled me.

Stunned, I let it go.

“Are you seeing this?”

“I’m seeing it. Forget that mind-blowing topic. Nothing is topping this.”

Hellie flipped through the pages, narrowing her eyes in determination and searching. I had never seen her look and act so human. Her search ended when she slammed her finger against a page and handed me back my grimoire.

I gulped, then asked, “Is this who you are hunting, girl?”

She touched my hand, then curled up on the couch.

Gene hopped from his seat and sat on the couch’s arm, curious to see the reveal.

“What did she point to?”

At the same time, we read the page’s title aloud. “‘The Theater of Sins.'”

I sat in disbelief, numb from head to toe, for at least ten minutes. During that time, Hellie fell asleep, and Gene busied himself reading about The Theater of Sins.

It should have been me, not him, reading. But I couldn’t add more chaos to my brain. I needed a chance to process the gaggle of information Gene had dumped on me. Not to mention the overwhelming truth bomb Hellie had communicated before going into a blissful rest—she is a reaper hellhound here to hunt The Theater of Sins.

All I’d wanted to do was create a companion for my role-playing game, and I summoned an effing hellhound. Unfortunately, I mistook Rules of the Black Arts for Advanced Users for a supplemental guidebook for The Lords of Omni and followed authentic instructions.

Now I was on the hook to send Hellie on the hunt to reap souls.

AAAAAH.

The scream in my mind wasn’t satisfying.

Gene’s disquieted body language had turned into fascination. The reading thoroughly enthralled him. I think he must have felt me watching because he looked over.

“This is effed.”

Of course it is.

“Do you want to hear this or read it for yourself?”

“Just go ahead.”

“‘The Theater of Sins is a troupe of supernatural personifications forged as punishers and entertainers by the gods. Superbia (hubris), Avaritia (greed), Luxuria (lust), Invidia (envy), Gula (gluttony), Ira (wrath), and Acedia (sloth).'”

“The seven deadly sins?”

“Yes. It’s written that there were way more in the beginning, but the ones I named persevered, stuck, and rose to power. Right here, it states, ‘The Theater of Sins members are the first creative entities in existence. They were allowed free reign to torture and punish mortals for not doing the gods’ will. But the mortals became fascinated with the Sins over time and ignored the gods. So to weaken the influence of their punishments, the gods created virtues to counter The Theater of Sins. Aware of their mistake, the gods chose not to allow the virtues to have individuality. Instead, they placed them in the hearts of mortals. But their plan failed, and mortals continued to find twisted comfort in the Sins’ delights, even worshipping them over what the mortals began to call the old gods.'”

Gene stopped reading and quipped before continuing, “Oh, this shit sounds crazy. ‘Enraged, the gods grew to hate The Theater of Sins. As punishment, the gods stripped away the eternal bodies of the members of The Theater of Sins and reduced them to thoughts bonded to the lowly psyche of mortals, creating an internal war between the mortals’ heads and hearts. However, before doing so, Superbia influenced the gods, using their own pride against them to strike a deal—if a majority of the mortals ever grew to love them more than the gods’ so-called virtues or even the gods themselves, the Sins could regain their individual, eternal corporeal form. The gods agreed but vowed that if any of the entities ever surpassed them, they would destroy the world.'”

“The fuck, man!”

“Ha, the old-school gods didn’t play, and it gets even wilder. Although, admittedly, I haven’t gotten through every page…”

Gene kicked off his shoes and squatted in his armchair, biting at his nails and flipping through pages while barking out selective reading.

“But there is a breakdown of all the theater’s members. And here are details about the cult dedicated to their return, the Order of the Eternal Night.”

Before I could get any questions in about the cult, Gene had become fascinated by a different topic.

“Oh, wait, man. This is even better. You’re going to love this. And the way to destroy the Sins’ avatars? Reaper hellhounds!”

“No. No, I don’t love it. What are avatars?”

“Okay, from what it looks like, the Sins can return to the mortal plane through a human vessel called an avatar. Wow! The gods of old were tricky as fuck. Listen to this, to measure the love of mortals, they made a ‘millennium rule,’ charging nature to weight the hearts and minds of mortals every thousand years, and as another ‘rule,’ the Sins were charged to bear witness in mortal form. Okay, this is from the book: ‘On the day of the revelation under the Moon’s Sadness, the Sins must be present as the judgment is passed. If the Sins are more loved than the gifts of virtue or the gods, they will be granted their eternal forms—damning the world.'”

“Whew. Alright then, this is hogwash. Name any time in recorded history where sin is not valued more than virtues.”

“Okay, good point, but I can counter that. Let me finish.”

“I think throughout history, the Sins’ avatars were slain before the revelation. The catch is they ‘at least one of them must be present’ for the nature’s verdict. That’s where the reaper hellhounds enter the picture. The gods gave the reapers the power to destroy the Sins. And if the Sins were killed before the judgment, their bid for eternity would be postponed another thousand years.”

Gene paused and looked up at me. “Talk about stacking the card. Like I said, the old gods were dirty. Here are entries under each of the ‘Sins’ addressing the hunt.”

Gene flipped through some pages until he landed on his query.

“Here, check this out. This is Gula—Gluttony. Read that.”

Gene handed me the grimoire, placing his finger on the line he wanted me to read.

“To begin the hunt for Gluttony, the words “Ostende mihi gulam in anima mea” must be spoken.”

Hellie popped up, startled Gene, and stopped my reading.

“Did she hear a noise or something?”

I shrugged my shoulders. I had no clue. But no lie, Hellie’s response startled me, and I closed Rules of the Black Arts for Advanced Users and let it sit on my lap.

Seeing me tapped out, Gene took over.

“Sins. Sins. Let’s see if this book has anything about them.”

Over the next three hours, we dove into many books from his pile and brushed over a slew of supernatural topics related to hellhounds, grimoires, and Sins—any little keyword that splintered us further into a rabbit hole. After a while, I started to doze, missing out on larger and larger chunks of Gene’s basically one-sided conversation. Although our pow-wow had been helpful, there was only so much info that I could process in a day. Dreary, I patted Hellie, who was peacefully resting. It was time for us to excuse ourselves.

“I know it’s fairly early for you, but we need to retire. Hellie and I have early classes tomorrow.”

“Even after all that, you’re taking her back into public?”

“Well, I’m not chaining her up in the boiler room.”

Gene rolled his eyes. “Go on, sleep. My lanterns are burning, so I’ll be at it for several more hours at least. This is quest-level shit!”

“Don’t forget, most of it is probably fantasy,” I blurted out to counter his horrible exhilaration.

Gene flashed a disappointed look. After that, Hellie and I exited, but I purposely left the door open on the way out.

“Dude, shut the door.”

From the hallway, I shouted, “Got it.”

When I learned the push spell, I’d also read the pull spell below it and was curious to try it. The same principles applied, but I had to turn my palm up and pull my fingers and arm inward. Then, following those directions with the slightest motion—because I didn’t want to tear the door off its hinges—I closed the door.

“Using magic is a rush,” I said, looking over at Hellie. Then, as we walked away, I heard the door crash to the ground.

Shit, another thing to add to the repair bill.

“Come on, Hellie, let’s get out of here.” We took off running toward my loft after Gene came out to examine the demolished door. I chuckled when I heard him groan behind me, and I could have sworn I saw Hellie slightly smile.

***

Almost as if we were playing a game in stealth mode, Hellie and I had spent most of the day ducking and dodging through the areas less traveled to get to classes and stay away from judging eyes.

Thankfully, we had managed to make it through the day without incident. I had my fingers crossed that it would continue. I had devoted about three hours of the day to teaching her hand signals—to heel, to not bark—along with proper human walking etiquette. We only had to get through whatever bullcrap tasks were required for community service, then we could head home.

Hellie and I sat on a bench in the campus quadrangle, our appointed spot to meet my community service coordinator, enjoying the chill-but-welcome autumn breeze. She was on her best behavior and seemed happy sitting and watching people.

Student traffic was low since there were only a few hours left till dark. Which was great for me because we hadn’t gotten many stares or double-takes in the twenty minutes we had been waiting, and I was especially grateful no one had approached us. I checked my watch. In all, fifteen minutes of our wait time were because we were early, but the other five were because whoever we were supposed to meet was late.

“It’s a nice day, Hellie. We can peacefully explore the campus afterward. Or now, if the lead volunteer doesn’t show soon.”

Hellie looked off into the distance, and I pulled up my hoodie and returned to using my newfound spells to push and pull tiny twigs and rocks at my feet.

“Hey, Billy. Hey, Hellie.”

I immediately recognized the voice. It belonged to Teena Aoki. Looking up at her, I quickly fell into awkwardness, gazing into her light gray eyes, accented by her pastel-orange eye shadow. Teena had a unique style that always incorporated pastel colors. Her soft, light brown hair had pink-pastel highlights, and she usually wore white and pastel colors. Come to think of it, I had never seen her in muted or dark-colored clothing.

I can’t believe I wasted time crushing on a girl who would never fit it in with me or by drab, unfashionable crew.

“Hi, Teena. How do you know Hellie’s name?”

“Duh, I work in the dean’s office. It’s all Miss Bakirtzis has been talking about today and Dean Shulenmeyers wants me to write an article or something about you two. So he sent me to supervise your community service.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Oh, sorry. I am a little late. I had to get these fresh from the printer.”

Teena opened a brown box filled with colorful flyers promoting the We! Not Me! Rally!

“Nice design.”

“Aww, that’s sweet. I created the design myself. And thanks for volunteering to help spread the message.”

“I didn’t exactly volunteer. But…I’m glad to be here for you… ah, to help.”

“Sure you did. We both know you’re able to skip this if you want. Here.”

She handed me half of the stack of flyers and some tape. I was completely loaded up. I got up, placed the materials on the bench, and then double-strapped my backpack. Next, I had to attach Hellie’s leash to my belt to free my hands to handle the flyers. There was enough slack in the leash for it to work.

“Are you going camping or what? What’s in your backpack?”

Oh, a heavy-ass grimoire that may have put me on the path to hunt ancient entities.

“Just studying materials.” I chuckled slightly out of nervousness, but it wasn’t a lie.

“Let’s start east of the quadrangle and work to the west side. Post, pass, or leave some in the building. However you feel is best to get the news out there.”

As we walked, delivering the flyers, we were silent for quite a while. We stayed on task. Hellie even helped a bit. Honestly, I enjoyed being in Teena’s company again.