Ash Mistry and the World of Darkness (12 page)

“That’s right. The actual change comes around puberty. That’s when the rakshasa takes over. The first transforming is rather dramatic. They call it the Harrowing. The child has no control over what’s happening and they assume their true form. Their monstrous form. Do you know what Parvati did when it happened to her?” asked Savage, quite casually.

“She left her family. She realised what she was and thought it safer for them if she wasn’t around.”

“Is that what she told you?”

Rani snorted with derision. “We killed them. Killed them all. We lived with parents, grandparents and six other siblings. We tore them to pieces. We ate their flesh and drank their blood.”

“No. Parvati would never do that.”

Rani looked at him with cold, deadly hatred. “That’s what I did, and she is me.”

Savage laughed. “Poor, naive boy. When the demon soul awakens it’s mad with rage, rage at its imprisonment, and bloodthirsty. Some, a few, hang on to a small human part and perhaps flee before they can do too much harm, but most were raised within families, have homes and people around them, and that first transformation of a reborn rakshasa bodes ill for anyone caught in the vicinity.”

The missile hummed as guidance fins adjusted themselves along its sleek, deadly body.

“I intend to take over the world,” said Savage. “It’s a dirty job, but someone’s got to do it. Otherwise you mortals are going to destroy it.”

“You and whose army, Savage?” Ash looked around. “How many rakshasas have you got? A hundred? A thousand? Ten thousand, tops?”

“Many, many more. It’s just that they don’t yet know it.” Savage searched the landscape with his binoculars. “I’ve spent millions in the last decade researching DNA. How to repair it, how to strengthen it. I’ve discovered there’s one ingredient that does the job better than most. DNA from rakshasas. I’ve cured most of the world’s ills by adding just a touch of demon into everything. It is, literally, the magic ingredient, and why I now own the biggest pharmaceutical company on the planet.”

Ash felt a bilious lump bubbling up his throat.

Savage continued. “I’m going to save the world, Ash, whether it likes it or not. But one of the problems has been humans. They’ve overrun. They’re top of the food chain with no predator to keep them in line.”

“Rakshasas.”

“Yes, Ash, rakshasas. But since their near extinction by Rama thousands of years ago, there have never been enough to keep the human population in check. Only a handful are born every decade. A trickle. I’m going to turn that trickle into a tidal wave. I’ve found a way to activate the Harrowing.”

Ash looked at the missiles. “What’s in them?”

“My new miracle drug. Retro-Anti-Virus Number One.”

RAVN-1.

Ash gazed down at the orphanage with creeping terror.

“The results might vary depending on the child.” A sly, cruel grin spread over Savage’s pale face. “An entire generation of children, transformed into demons. Throughout the world. There will of course be a period of readjustment, but you can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs. And tell me, how will you fight them? They will be
children
, people’s sons and daughters. What soldier would raise his rifle against his own child? Your humanity, your compassion, will be your downfall.”

He gestured to Rani. “Let’s show Ash what I mean.”

Rani pressed the button on the radio.

The missile launched.

T
he missile screamed and flames burst from the exhaust, filling the plateau with smoke and the stench of burning petrol. The flames turned from red to blue to white, the noise rising in pitch as the colours transformed and the missile shook, trapped within the launch mechanism. Ash covered his ears, but it made no difference; the hellish wail pierced him.

Then it was free.

It roared overhead, dipping a moment before locking into its flight path, rising high over the snow-clad landscape in a trail of black smoke, the sun glinting on its glass body.

“Now this is the exciting bit,” said Savage, his attention focused through the binoculars.

The missile reached its zenith, then began a slow dive. Even as it fell it altered direction, shifting from side to side with added bursts of speed as it swooped towards the orphanage.

And Ash could do nothing.

Then, still high over the building, it exploded.

Ash’s heart swelled. It had failed! He wanted to laugh. All that talk of Savage’s—

A green cloud spread out above the orphanage and began to descend over the walled playground and the surrounding area.

“The burst radius is a mile,” said Savage. “But depending on prevailing winds the contaminants could cover another ten miles easily.”

The orphanage vanished within the green fog.

Savage pointed at the telescope, limp in Ash’s hand. “You won’t want to miss this.”

Reluctantly Ash raised the telescope.

At first all he could see was the green smoke. Dark silhouettes moved within it, flailing around, stumbling and lost within this thick cloud. He caught a glimpse of someone tall, one of the monks, trying to guide the kids indoors, but they were too scared and panicked to pay attention. A few collapsed.

Ash’s fingers tightened around the telescope, but he continued to watch.

A wind blew the clouds apart, revealing the playground. A handful of children, all younger than Ash, stumbled or lay in the snow, coughing and crying and choking.

One boy shook. He was curled up, head buried between his knees, his entire body spasming violently. He beat his head with his fists as if trying to smash out what was within. Then he threw back his head and screamed.

His black hair thickened and spread over his face. He tore at his clothes with long claws, and then got to his feet, swaying and writhing.

A monk ran out of the thinning cloud, his scarlet robe covering his mouth and nose. He ran to the boy and held him.

The other children began to shriek and scream. Ash couldn’t hear them, he was too far away, but their wide-open silent mouths made him shake.

Scales spread over the face of a girl. One boy, only five or six, stared in horror as extra arms burst out of his chest – long, spindly and covered in black hairs. A group of children ran around on all fours with tails swishing and whiskered snouts twitching. The monks looked about them in bewilderment, horrified. Four of the kids, the youngest, were unchanged; they gathered around the monks, staring and sobbing at what was happening to their friends. One monk fell down, tripping over a boy transformed into a black-pelted wolf. He tumbled in the snow, landing on his back. The wolf sniffed him.

It growled and bared its yellow fangs.

The monk raised his hands, saying something as the wolf shook off the last of its torn and tattered clothes. It put its forepaws on the old man’s chest and the other rakshasas crowded around the fallen monk.

The wolf paused. Did some human part of it make it hesitate? It shook its head ferociously and howled.

The monk, ever so slowly, tried to stand.

“Now that’s a mistake,” said Savage.

The wolf sprang. It hit the monk and both crashed into the snow, throwing up a big cloud of white. The jet of blood shot out and arced over the other demons. They charged in and attacked.

“Run,” urged Ash. “Run.” He turned away from the frenzy to the monk trying to shield the youngest, still human, kids. “Run!”

It was all in vain.

A huge bear lumbered towards the small group. A trio of snarling wild dogs blocked the doorway. Huge spiders with human faces crept over the snow on their stalking legs. The monk stood in front of the four petrified children, trying to protect them. Ash watched him speaking to them. They closed their eyes.

Ash lowered the telescope. He couldn’t watch.

“Oh, Ash,” said Savage. “You’re missing the best bit.”

Ash couldn’t breathe and he grabbed the table as his legs gave away. The bottle tottered, but the glasses fell, one smashing on the frosty tiles.

“Careful, that’s a ’53.” Savage took up the champagne. “I think this calls for a celebration, don’t you?”

Ash’s head swam and the ground lurched as he fell to his knees. Bile fermented in his guts, choking him as it climbed up his throat. He closed his eyes, but all that did was bring the images flashing back. The monk torn apart. The little kids closing their eyes as the demons prepared to devour them. The old man trying in vain to protect them with his feeble body.

Savage’s laugh.

Tears blinded him and his stomach clenched. He fell to his knees as the pain doubled, the knots twisting tighter and tighter.

Once, in a fortress far to the south, Savage had told him how jackals prey on the weak, how he’d set his demons on Lucky unless Ash did what he said. Ash had imagined the horror of such a feeding frenzy, but had never thought to actually see it. And this was just a fraction of what lay ahead.

He clawed at the ground, despairing for those kids he had been helpless to save.

“The drug’s being delivered to key locations throughout the world,” said Savage. “It’s not been easy to infect the entire planet, but I’ve had the time and money to do it.”

“I’ll stop you,” said Ash.

Savage didn’t appear to be listening. The cork popped. “Ah, only two glasses. You’ll have to go without, I’m afraid.”

Feeling along the ground, Ash’s hands touched something sharp. Through eyes blurred with tears he spotted something narrow and crystalline – the broken stem of the champagne glass. The tip was as sharp as a dagger. Instinctively his fingers wrapped around it.

Ash wiped his face and struggled to his feet. He had one shot.

“There’ll be a period of anarchy, but that will help separate the weak from the strong,” said Savage, his back to Ash as he poured the champagne. “Eventually the newly reborn rakshasas will rally to me and then we’ll start our work in earnest. With Ravana gone, I now rule the demon nations.”

“People will fight against you,” said Ash.

“And destroy their own populations? I don’t think so. No, society will collapse and region by region, country by country, I will come and establish my rule. Humanity will have to live more simply, but under the dominion of my rakshasas they’ll keep in line. It might take a hundred years, but that’s not a problem for me any more.”

Ash glared at Savage’s back. Every ounce of concentration was focused on his mission. He felt a tremor run through him.

Savage turned to Rani, holding two drinks, and passed one to her. “Cheers. Here’s to a reign of a thousand years. At least.” They clinked glasses.

Ash tightened his grip, his thumb testing the jagged tip of the glass. “A thousand?” he whispered. He stepped closer. “Not if I can help it.”

Savage turned. “I’m sorry?”

“You should be.”

Ash thrust the shard upwards, a perfect killing blow. Straight and fast. It tore into Savage’s neck just below the jaw and went in all the way to the base. Savage grabbed Ash’s wrist, but it was too late.

Ash pulled away as Savage stumbled. He still tried to hold on to his glass and the champagne sloshed over him.

Rani smashed into Ash, knocking him against the wall, and she was hissing at him, her fangs just centimetres from his neck.

But Ash didn’t care. He just watched Savage slump to the floor, blood pouring from the fresh wound. It came in a torrent, covering his shirt, his sleeve, pooling on the frosty flagstones. With slippery hands Savage got his nails around the base of the glass and pulled it out. Big mistake, as now there was nothing plugging the wound. Blood spurted in time with his heartbeat.

Savage gasped as pink foam filled his mouth, staining his perfect teeth grotesquely. There was a final gurgle. His hands fell to his sides and the champagne glass rolled away.

Ash didn’t need
Marma Adi
or any special power to know the blow had been fatal.

Savage was dead.

E
laine’s contacts at the airport hadn’t stretched to an upgrade, and after fourteen hours packed into Economy, wedged between a snoring businessman and a kid who played his Game Boy from take-off to touchdown, Ashoka looked and felt like a zombie. He’d not slept at all and was now paying the price.

At night Hong Kong looked as if it was made of jewels. The amber-lit streets shone like rivers of gold and the skyscrapers sparkled like a dragon’s hoard, emerald and sapphire, diamond and onyx and ruby. Spires soared, shining citadels of glowing colours and dazzling patterns. It made London look like some provincial village.

Massive tankers and freighters crossed the harbour to and from ports in the New Territories and the world beyond. These ships had sailed ever since Britain had seized the islands from the Chinese in the nineteenth century, and though the age of pirates and the Opium Wars were long over, trade still flourished, but where once it had been tea, silver, silk and opium, now it was electrical goods, mobile phones, cars and the machines of comfort – all the toys the West couldn’t do without.

Ashoka yawned as they entered the vast Lantau Airport and wound their way through its labyrinthine glass corridors. Through the windows he saw the forest of skyscrapers of Hong Kong Island.

Parvati straightened her sunglasses as they made their way through customs. “It’s changed since I was here last.”

“When was that?”

“Late nineteenth century.”

“Business or pleasure?”

“The British had established Hong Kong as their colony and it was the base of their opium trade. Savage was one of the main players behind it, and I had hoped to track him down. I didn’t get him, but I did make a few friends and am owed a couple of favours.”

“What sort of friends? Triads? Tongs? Chinese mafia types? I’ve watched practically every John Woo movie ever made.”

“Dragons.” Parvati headed for the exit.

Ashoka shook his head. “Sorry, I must have misheard. I thought you said ‘dragons’.”

“That’s right.”

Ashoka stood there, struggling to understand what he’d just been told. “Dragons?” he said again, following Parvati out of the airport.