Soul Eater
By Ray Saint



As Rachel watched

through her blinds, the Tall Man left Gertrude's house, tipping his hat as he closed the door behind him. Five, she told herself. That's five visits. What, she wondered, could he want? She knew her neighbors, Marjorie and Betty Lou and the others were doing what she was doing; were watching curiously from their windows.

"Busy bees ought to mind their own wax," she said aloud, to nobody. But she kept watch. It is an old woman's business to keep the neighborhood vigil, as she often told herself. "Well, Lord," she said, "what do you suppose he wants with us? Don't look like he's sellin' magazines." They did that sometimes, the kids in the neighborhood; Vogue and Good Housekeeping to fund trips or band uniforms or whatever the school needed these days. She didn't mind helping the kids out. But the Tall Man certainly didn't appear to be fundraising. Besides, he wasn't going to every house.

Although…

"May be a preacher," she said. "How 'bout it, Lord? He one o' yours? Got the long coat and the wide hat. But then, I ain't seen a preacher walk 'round looking that way in ages."

He was closer now. Skipped the next two houses, and stopped at Betty Lou's. Well, thought Rachel, I'll just have to call ol' Lou and see what the preacher man wanted with her. "Hmph," she snorted. "Or not." It had been a few months, but Rachel and Betty Lou had been on the outs since Lou had quit the church. Something the Reverend Peters said. Betty Lou had never really been clear about it, and at some point, got annoyed when Rachel called to invite her back. She never answered the phone now. Call waiting. "Technology," she snorted again. "Lord, how am I supposed to reach folk if their gadgets are in the way?"

The Tall Man paused at Betty Lou's door, his hand about to knock. It was as though something stopped him; had grabbed his attention. He cocked his head, turned. The Tall Man looked, it seemed to Rachel, right at her through the blinds. His face was handsome, if gaunt, the eyes nearly black under his hat. He touched the brim and grinned, and now she was sure he was looking at her. Rachel gasped as his grin parted his lips to reveal a row of perfectly white, very sharp teeth. Her eyesight was going, that much was sure, but there was no mistaking the malice in his face. He turned back around and knocked.

"No, no, no," whispered Rachel as she hurried to her telephone. Concern made her a little quicker than she would have been otherwise. "Lord," she whispered, "please let answer the phone."

As the phone rang, she watched out the window. Watched as Betty Lou opened the door, listened, and let the Tall Man inside. "Oh, Lou, you fool," Rachel said. Then: "Forgive me, Lord."

Three minutes, give or take, she told herself. Now that she thought about it, that's about how long the Tall Man stopped at each place. He'll be out in three minutes and I can see what's going on. Rachel wrapped a shawl around herself, muttered a quick prayer, and stepped outside to wait. For some reason, she was sure she was in no danger -- though she was also, inexplicably, frightened.

Right on time, the Tall Man stepped out of Betty Lou's door. He looked up to see Rachel and smiled. Her blood froze as those shark-like teeth appeared again under his lips, but she managed to smile back. "Well, hello, Mister," she said.

He tipped his hat again. "How do, ma'am?" He spoke with a comfortable, backwoods drawl. Just listening to the voice, she thought, you might think you were just chatting with a local boy. But there was something under the voice, something that made her even more uneasy. She tried to talk again, but the words were stuck. She cleared her throat, tried again. "So, eh, stranger. What're you doing around these parts? Selling something?"

The Tall Man chuckled. If the voice was unnerving, the laughter was something else again. She shivered. "No, ma'am," said the Tall Man. "Not selling. Your neighbor owed me lunch."

She put her hands on her hips. "I may be old, young man, but I can tell a put-on. What about the others?"

"Oh, yes," he said. "All of them. I've eaten pretty well today."

Something in the way he said it made her retreat a few steps. "Young man," she said, "if you think you're coming into my house --."

The tall man held up a hand. "Not at all, Rachel," he said easily. Her eyes widened at his use of her name. "Those folks are for me. You belong to somebody else." And with that, he again tipped his hat. Rachel watched until he was a dot in the distance, and ran to Betty Lou's house.

She found Old Lou the minute she crossed the threshold. The woman lay on her back, her hands clutching her chest. Her open eyes had glassed over in death. There was no blood. No signs of violence, but Rachel knew it had been the Tall Man who killed her. And, she suddenly understood, the others as well. And as she looked down to her former friend's face, she began to understand what happened.