I do not like this. I do not like it at all.

All the laughter is just making me more nervous and I can sense Damian shares my feelings. Why is this funny? Satan's soul? Holy shit! How's that even supposed to look like?

"The thing is," Butch continues, seconds away from smothering with laughter, "the way he lost it..."

He had a point. The way he lost it sounds like something interesting, but more of a fun fact sort of thing, because it doesn't really change the fact that I had to find it.

We.

Shut up, Damian, you have no legs.

Just to spite me, he makes me do a little pirouette. Is it just me, or is he getting louder and more powerful? What if he kicks me out of the body?

Don't panic. I can't do that. You're soul is 99 percent up in here. I can only do party tricks.

My relief mixes with his frustration and... sadness? It brings an unexpected clench to my heart, the idea that Damian could actually feel sadness.

I don't have time for this now. I need to get back to the chihuahua demon and see just what the firkety frackety frack is so funny.

"Well, come out with it, why is it so funny?"

"He..." Butch chokes some more, and for a second I'm positive Satan is force-choking him or something to ensure the secret dies with him.  

Yes, I've seen Star Wars #nerdygirl #SciFiiscool. Don't be so surprised, Damian.

Stop hashtagging in mid thought.

He doesn't know what he's talking about. Life can be perfectly summed up with the appropriate hashtags. #justspititoutalreadydemon

"He...he..." Butch chokes some more and Fifi slaps him on the back to make sure there isn't actually something lodged in his airways. "He got so sad watching Sweet November that he cried."

I stare. Fifi stops laughing and stares. Damian is probably staring, too, through my eyes. Well, his eyes. Once the words are out, Butch sobers, too.

"Sweet November?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. The title sounds slightly familiar, but doesn't ring a bell yet.

"Wait." Fifi snaps her fingers repeatedly. "It's a movie."

"Of course it's a movie, the demon just said he watched it. But..." And then it clicks. "Is it that movie with Keanu Reeves and Charlize Theron?"

Damian is useless since he has no idea what I'm talking about, but Fifi and I have a ritual sappy movie marathon every month. I'm sure I've seen this one. She is too, because she sticks her tongue out in the corner of her mouth and scrunches her face in what I recognize as her deep thought face.

Her eyes widen, then they instantly fill with tears, so I'm sure she actually remembered. Brownie points for Fifi!

"Oh yes, you're right, when he's her November and then she dies at the end and he's so sad?" And she starts bawling her eyes out.

I bite my lip, for once grateful that Damian can't cry, because the plot comes swirling back to me. Yes, that old movie was very sad, with Charlize's character trying to brighten as many lives as possible before succumbing to cancer. She breathes life into Keanu, turns his entire dreary existence around.

Seriously? In one month?

Damian sounds appalled, but he's wrong. That movie tugs on your heartstrings. I can't blame the Devil for getting sad over it, losing a piece of himself once he realized he would never be as self-sacrificing and wonderfully beautiful as Charlize. That he will never be blessed by the presence of an angel like Keanu. #sosad #everythingisablessing #selfsacrifice

"Okay, we have this information." But what do I do with it? I know whose soul it is and how they lost it, but how does that help me find it? Any moment now, Damian.

I don't know. I couldn't see souls without you. That's why you're in my body, remember?

#Useless

Don't hashtag me!

#Shush

That's not even a real hashtag.

"Um, Carolyn?" Fifi once again looks wary and I probably look a bit weird having a fight with Damian inside my head.

"Yes. I'm not sure what we should do either."

"Maybe you should check where souls go," Butch says, rolling his tiny evil eyes.

"Do you know where they go?" I ask a little shocked because I didn't expect him to be very useful beyond the provided information.

"I can't see them, pretty princess, but if I had to find something, I'd follow it to see where it usually goes."

That creepy red baby has a point. But how do I follow things that simply float around? They don't really seem to be going anywhere.

"Oh, I know!" Fifi says lifting one finger. "We should go to a funeral."

"Fifi, that's genius!" I can't believe I didn't think of that myself.

I can't believe I didn't think of that. Ugh, what's wrong with me?

It's left unsaid, but I can feel he's mad at me, that he believes I'm dumbing him down. How would that even be possible when he doesn't possess an ounce of intelligence that is not inside me as well? Just because I don't enjoy doing math in my spare time and calculating physics crap, that doesn't mean I'm not smart. #schooloflife #emotionalintelligence

Wow.

"I'll go put on something black," Fifi says, her voice excited. "You should..." She eyes me up and down. "Don't you have a suit or something? Do you have to be all evil leather?"

She has a point, so I consider going back to Damian's place, but since he lives on the rich hill and I'm already dressed in black, it just feels like a major waste of time. "I'm in black so this will have to do."

"Fine," she huffs and heads for the bedroom.

I grab the little demon rat by the tail before he gets to follow her in. "No peeking, mister."

"It's so weird to hear girly things coming out of your mouth, Bradly," he mumbles, tiny arms crossed over his chest.

Yeah, I know.

I wish all these overly-inflated male egos would just shut up. You don't see girls getting all offended because the other has a bigger penis. Though since Butch doesn't really have one, I'm not sure it counts.

Wow, your mind goes in the strangest places.

Butch also pulls his tail from between my fingers and drops to the floor with a huff. They're making me lose my vibe and my focus with their negative attitude. Why can't they be joyous and bubbly like us? #goodvibesonly

Fortunately, Fifi steps out wearing the most lovely little black dress with a plunging v-neck. The Carolyn part of me wants to gush, but the Damian side recoils a bit, so I just smile and give her the thumbs up.

"Aren't you a little naked for a funeral?" Butch asks, ever the gentleman, leering at her mostly bare legs. It's very possible that he can see her butt from his position.

"That's because I'm not done." She struts to the hallway cabinet and pulls out a black hat which huge rims. "There."

It looks lovely on her and I miss my body more than ever. But I try to ignore that and Damian who is internally grinning for some reason, and just scurry out of her apartment, back on my motorcycle, and we head to a funeral home Fifi knows, Butch secured in her to-die-for small Prada purse.

We get there just as a service is over, so it's a great opportunity to follow the two blue butterflies joining the crowd outside. I find it a little weird there are just two butterflies for over twenty people.

Not everyone cares enough to lose a bit of themselves.

Damian is right, but it's still a little sad. People should care enough about other people for their souls to really feel when something bad happens.

Weren't you just complaining that your soul is no longer whole?

Yeah, there's that as well. I'm not sure how to feel about this, so I pull back and let Damian drive for a while, my mind trying to make sense of my feelings. I know I'm right, that people should care, but the souls? Should they be whole or chipped? It's like choosing between Gucci and Prada, I swear. Nearly impossible.

You sure know how to put things into perspective.

Negative Nancy is at it again, so I ignore him with grace.

"Well, this was short," Butch grumbles as we stop next to the entrance to a graveyard. "And boring."

"Can you still see the butterflies?" Fifi asks, her voice filled with reverence.

I can. They float above the tombstone, and I notice a whole bunch of other blue butterflies lingering above the graves. I think it's safe to assume they stay here. Not sure this helps me figure out where to find Satan's soul though, since Charlize didn't really die in Sweet November and there's no grave.

"I see them, but it doesn't help me figure out where the devil's soul piece could be. It's not like someone really died. Just a character in a movie." I heave a deep sigh. "We need to figure out a pattern."

"I know," Fifi says, already perking up at the prospect of more adventure. "Divorce court!"

She's full of brilliant ideas today. But, unlike me, she doesn't have a man inside her soul skewing her judgement on matters of the heart and soul. So I grin at her and we drive to the nearest court.

👸

Did I mention court procedures are insanely boring? Well, not like we could get in, because divorce happens behind closed doors, but waiting outside is just as boring. We send Butch inside to spy for us, since he's the smallest, but it's hard for him to do much because he's red, so he returns defeated in about thirty second.

Then, the waiting begins. I don't want to talk since I'm not sure what to say, and Damian is quiet too. At some point, Fifi goes into a deli across the street and returns with some cheap coffee. We both drink it and make faces, reminiscing about the old days in college when we had to save up for Starbucks. How the times have changed.

After that little peasant exchange, we fall back into loaded silence, each lost in their own thoughts. I try to fill my mind with the architecture of the buildings around me, the sound of birds, the caress of the wind on my face, the smell of nature.

The city is loud and smelly and I'm wearing a helmet, so none of that works for me. I just wish I had my own phone, not Damian's boring functional one, so that I could browse Instagram. My followers probably think I'm dead by now. Which isn't too far from the truth.

For a moment, I want to ask Fifi to get on my account and see what's happening, but I don't dare. Something stops me from accessing information about my old life, even if I'm not sure what. Probably the need to keep myself together while this madness lasts.

Finally, arguing people stomp down the stairs of the court, two ruby-red butterflies flitting above their heads. Once the middle-aged couple stops having a heated, whispered argument in the middle of the street, they part ways. The woman's butterfly follows the man, while his starts stalking her. It's so sad an poetic how their souls seem to still yearn for each other even if their life together is over.

I think it's more along the line of reasons for anger.

Damian is so jaded. Poor boy doesn't have a soul though, so maybe it's justified.

Don't pity me.

I internally pat his head and I can feel he's annoyed and probably wants to spew a red butterfly of his own, but has no soul for it. I giggle to myself and for the moment, I'm me again. Just Carolyn. I miss just Carolyn, I want her back.

"Should we follow them or what?" Butch asked, seeming increasingly bored.

Oh, right. Mission. I'm pretty sure Fifi fell asleep behind me, because once I kick the motorcycle back to life she startles and wraps her arms around me like a scared cat.

"Let's go!" she says, her voice a little slurred.

I honestly hope she didn't drool on my back because I saw how that girl sleeps. At least the leather makes sure I don't feel it.

We ride casually after the red butterfly, and unsurprisingly enough, we reach a regular ole house in the suburbs with a tiny front yard. The man gets down from his middle-class car, walks in and slams the door, but the butterfly lingers. I lift my gaze and notice that it joins three more butterflies fluttering above the old shingled roof. A blue one, a yellow one and a green one. What happened in this house?

Doesn't matter, we have our answer.

"Do you see anything?" Fifi asks.

"Yes." And I agree with Damian. We have our answer. "Apparently pieces of soul linger where the cause of the loss is." Which is a little better than graves, but still requires extensive thinking regarding our situation.

"Yay!" Fifi launches into a tiny happy dance behind me, unaware there are still major issues.

"So where to now?" Butch asks, his reserved tone showing he's more aware of the issue.

I ponder on this, but am interrupted by the buzzing of motorcycles.

"Oh, look, more people on butterfly hunts," Fifi said, excited.

I turn my head and have to agree with her. Their motorcycles match mine, as do their leather uniforms and helmets. Except in our business, seeing your coworkers is not a good thing.

My hands find the handlebar, but before I can kick the motorcycle to life, the other two reach us and one of them cuts my path, while the other places itself behind me to trap us.

"Well, well, Bradley. Got yourself a girlfriend?"

"Don't you two learn your lesson?" I ask rolling my eyes. I'm also grateful we're no longer in a Starbucks, though the lack of throwing furniture is a little disconcerting.

Different people, Carolyn.

One of them lifts the visor of his helmet and I gasp. One of his eyes is completely white and a scar runs through it, starting from his hairline, going across his nose and stopping in the middle of his opposite cheek. His other eye is pitch black, with no white whatsoever. When he grins, his teeth ar sharp, like a shark's.

"People?" I mutter. "These aren't people."

No, they're not. They're soul hunters.

I don't understand. So is Damian, and he doesn't look like that. But I don't care about the answer when my entire body is paralyzed by dread. All I hope is that the other man keeps his helmet on. Who knows what I would see? I barely register Fifi's shriek of terror and the way her fingers dig into my stomach. All I can see is death, all I can sense is doom. I smell brimstone and my head spins.

I think I'm going to throw up. I've never been so afraid in my life.

Carolyn, pull yourself together.

I can't pull myself together. This is not normal. People like this shouldn't exist. Demons shouldn't exist. Hatred shouldn't exist.

Come on, babe, pull yourself together. I can't take over the body. I need you.

I can't move, so I'm not sure what he wants from me. What they want from me.

"Now, Bradley," the scarred man says, obviously pleased with the effects his appearance and grainy voice have on me. "I believe you have some information for us."

👸👸👸

Word count: 2606

Total word count: 17,137

Yay, they found out where soul shards go. Less yay that they have stumbled into trouble. How will our heroes get out of this one?

Hope you're still enjoying the plot. Four chapters left and I believe I can reach the word count and finish the novella in due time. Still have over seven days to go.

Stay tuned for the next exciting installment!