Dark City (The Order of Shadows Book 1) (17 page)

I
crawled away
, rubbing my eyes, my fingers burned by the phlegm. I dug into my bag and finally located the vial of blessed water. I rinsed and rubbed my eyes with it until I could open them enough to see the familiar lumbering towards me, a single pointed yellowed tooth gleaming in its mouth.

It took another swipe, the tip of a claw found my temple and sliced it open. I leaped up as it drew back its hand for another strike and I kneed it in the stomach.

Its grey leathery flesh was horribly unyielding and the creature inside its belly kicked back as the monster leaned over, its mouth wide with yellow liquid dripping from its lips.

I ran to the tree where my sword hung and grabbed the hilt. It was slick with sweat but I clenched it with both hands and pulled with all my might.

The blade jerked free. I spun round, dancing aside as the monster lunged towards me, and stumbled into the tree. A heavy branch cracked beneath my boot as I stepped back. The creature grimaced.

The sound.

It didn't like the sound. It pained it, riled it.

I waited for it to lunge again and smacked the flat of the blade against a tree trunk. The beast faltered and brought its long hands up over its ears.

I struck the tree again and it clenched its hands harder to its head. Then I swung the blade and opened its throat. It clamped both hands to the wound, its huge eyes staring with unfettered hatred. I slammed the sword against the tree again and the vile creature threw its hands back to its ears.

I swung the sword with one intent.

It slipped through the wound in its throat, plunging deeper, biting through sinew and bone. My sense of hearing was restored as its head struck the ground with a wet, solid thud.

I wanted to leave the disgusting thing where it lay but I'd been conditioned, obliged, to cover up supernatural evidence like this. I scanned the forest for its lair. There was a cave nearby, the creature's treasure trove. Deep inside was a small mountain of bleached bones, the remains of past victims. People who had made the mistake of trespassing on this land. Adults. Kids. All dead and gone, their bones keepsakes for this hideous creature.

I dragged the headless body through the leaves, down into the darkness of its earthy den and returned for the head. It made a satisfying thump as I kicked it through the air and watched it bounce and tumble down into the mouth of the cave.

If I made it out of here, I'd have to let Dauple know where it was. Finding it would totally make his day.

I climbed the hill with one hand on my sword.

The trees seemed to loom over me as I neared the house and the atmosphere reeked of malevolence and dark energy. I paused to scan the perimeter with my telescope.

All the blinds were drawn with the exception of a large picture window that dominated most of the building's upper floor. I could see Hellwyn inside, facing a small, bearded man who must have been in his early sixties. Prentice Sykes, I assumed.

Their conversation appeared to be cordial enough and it seemed she wasn't under any immediate threat, despite the malignancy that surrounded the place.

I crept through the trees, keeping low to avoid the attention of any watchful eyes as I made my way toward the back of the house.

A short stony walkway led to a stout wooden door. The air prickled with magic. Deep, dark, evil magic. Its intensity was almost hypnotic. Bad stuff had happened here, very bad stuff. Dangerous things summoned, things best left alone.

I thought of calling Underwood, but the signal was bad, too much interference. It was hardly surprising given the black magic that teemed in the air. I was tempted to tap into that energy, to let it power me up but my gut instinct told me I wanted no part of it.

I tried the door. It was locked. I reached into my bag and pulled out a charged crystal. The energy inside was so docile compared to the magic swelling from the house, but it was clean and light. And it would do. I squeezed it and took in every last drop before reaching for the lock.

Blazing heat shot through my hand. I winced and pulled away.

Cursed. Another attempt to unlock it with magic could be fatal,.

At least I had my petty crime skills to fall back on. I rummaged through my lock picks and made a careful selection. Within moments the lock clicked. I pulled a pair of gloves from my bag; they were lined with iron filings and would keep the worst of the hex from affecting me.

I took a deep breath and opened the door onto a hallway lined with shadows. I could see a faint gleam of light illuminating a distant flight of stairs. I closed the door behind me and crept down the hall.

Artful black and white photographs hung on the walls; mountains, forests, beaches. All elegantly framed and signed in the corner. The owner of this house had taste as well as money.

Black spots swarmed before my eyes as I passed a closed room. Something heavy lurked behind the door. Something that made the familiar who had stalked the forest outside look like the tooth fairy.

Voices and laughter rang down from upstairs, Hellwyn's deep tone muffled through the ceiling. The pace of her words sounded calm, but as I reached the foot of the stairs the conversation ended, along with all the sound in the world.

As if someone had hit the mute button once more.

My skin crawled. The spell of silence hadn't belonged solely to the familiar, it was the hallmark of its master.

I spun round as a cosh descended towards me. Darkness exploded before my eyes and I fell through the floor, down down into endless night.

T
he darkness was restless
. It creeped and crawled like shiny black beetles. Cold air swept over me, it seemed to come from the heart of some chaotic shadow, bringing sensations I had no names for. Fragrances I'd never smelled, flavors I'd never tasted.

A wind from another world.

I caught dark scents, fire, death, suffering. This world was not a place I wanted to know. An emptiness loomed behind me. A giant canvas of black paint that crept, crawled and shifted. I'd seen this before.

I'd been...inside it. No.
Through
it. Light flickered around the periphery of my vision and as I blinked, it grew as bright as daylight.

I opened my eyes again.

"My apologies," a man said.

I found myself lying on a sofa in the room where I'd seen Hellwyn. Behind me loomed the huge window I'd spotted from the forest. The man, who I took to be Prentice Sykes, stood over me holding a glass of water in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. Despite his diminutive stature, he was strong, powerful, not someone to trifle with. His grey tailored suit probably cost more than I'd made that year.

I took the glass of water and sipped it before setting it onto the coffee table. The back of my head thrummed with pain. I rubbed it as I slowly looked around the room. Hellwyn stood before a tall shelf filled with oversized art books. She looked angry and...worried?

"What happened?" I asked. I leaned forward slowly and took another sip of water.

The bearded man smiled. "Ashcombe happened."

As if on cue, the weaselly little prick entered the room and gave me a long look of loathing. "We don't take well to trespassers."

"Yeah," I agreed. "I got that impression after your familiar tried to add me to its collection of bones."

"Familiar?" Hellwyn's voice was calm but her eyes grew wide and she looked at me, as if she was trying to tell me something. We're in danger? Yeah, that much was already crystal clear.

"Yes, his familiar," I said. "A goat-faced creature with a writhing belly full of who knows what. It was pretty powerful as familiars go." I glanced at the bearded man. "Or did it belong to you?"

He shook his head and took a sip of wine. "Not mine, no. I'm Prentice by the way." He held out a well-manicured hand and shook mine. Apparently the discussion of demonic familiars had concluded.

I tried to read him as best I could as we shook hands, but there was nothing there. I'd been stonewalled. A fat band of gold encircled his forefinger, perhaps something inside it was blocking my attempts to assess him.

"I understand you're helping Hellwyn with our...mutual friend," Prentice said.

I nodded, but kept my eye on Ashcombe until he'd left the room. "It seems odd to call an assassin that's slaughtered your partners...a friend." My arm lurched as my thoughts jumped to my weapons, my bag. They were gone. I glanced at Hellwyn, she still had her sword.

"It's just a turn of phrase, Mr. Rook." Prentice drained his wine and picked out a bottle of something dark and expensive looking from the liquor cabinet behind him. "A top up?"

I shook my head and winced as another wave of pain washed over me. "I'm alright with water, thanks."

Prentice refilled Hellwyn's glass and then his own, before lifting it to toast her. "To old friends, those who have passed and those who remain."

Hellwyn's smile was forced as she took a sip.

This was all wrong. The contrived bonhomie, the house. Ashcombe and the wave of evil I'd run into downstairs.

It all felt like....

An endgame.

"
Y
ou mentioned
you had an idea of who is behind the attacks," Hellwyn said to Prentice as she set her wine glass down.

"I have some suspicions." Prentice glanced out the window. "This world's full of threats right now. There's a highly ambitious dark mage gaining traction in the city, perhaps he saw us as adversaries. Then," he paused and smiled at me, "there's that coven. They've been up to all sorts of mayhem, or so I'm told. I expect the Organization's fully aware of the situation. Or maybe they're more of an upper level concern, that our friend here isn't privy too." His voice was slow, languid. As if he were trying to buy time.

For what?

I listened for Ashcombe, but the house was silent.

"A coven, a dark mage," Hellwyn said. There was a low menacing buzz of irritation in her voice. "Really?"

"Why not?" Prentice said. "Either would be more than capable of handling a Hexling."

"And what motive? Why wipe out the Order?" Hellwyn asked. "And how did they find us in the first place?"

"Loose lips sink ships," Prentice said, with another punchably smug grin.

"Loose lips?" Hellwyn's irritation found a harder edge.

Prentice held his glass up. "I enjoy a drink, always have done. As do you. But some of us enjoyed it a bit more than others. Used it to dampen their anguish and guilt. An anguish and guilt which I myself have never felt."

"Get to the point," Hellwyn said. "You're saying Tom got drunk and exposed us?"

"I'm not saying, I'm speculating. Sit, Hellwyn, take the weight off your feet. We need to rest. Recoup our energy before we put serious efforts into finding whoever's behind this"

It was utter bullshit. The man showed no trace of fear or concern. He held all the cards and had time enough to waste. I sat up as something shifted in the air. Prentice glanced my way. Whatever was going to happen seemed to be imminent.

"Where's the bathroom?" I asked, feigning unsteadiness as I climbed to my feet.

"Second door on the right," Prentice said. "Don't be long. We've decisions to make."

I wandered from the room into a short hall with a number of doors and a flight of stairs that led down to the place where Ashcombe had knocked me out. I fumbled loudly with the bathroom door, opened it until it creaked and closed it hard. And then I made my way downstairs as lightly as I could. The air was charged, as if lightning was about to strike. I could feel it all around me.

A ritual was taking place.

Ashcombe.

Shadows seethed across the floor as I crept down the corridor, listening hard. Scratching, tapping and a man's chanting voice slithered from one of the rooms, its cadence twisted and rhythmic. An invocation.

I peered through a crack in the door.

Ashcombe sat crosslegged on the stone floor, encompassed by a chalked circle of glyphs and wards. His eyes were closed, his face intent. He looked so peculiar in his stylish suit, like a businessman conjuring a demon. He wouldn't be the first.

Magic bristled in the air around him. I was tempted to tap in, but it was purely black and evil. A second circle was etched beside him, a dead rabbit lying in the center, its throat leaking viscous blood upon the floor. A sacrifice. An offering.

A savage vibration shook the room. Something was coming.

I ran over and scuffed my foot through the chalk circle, but the symbols remained unmarred. Scalding heat blazed through my shoe and I pulled it back. "Fuck!"

Ashcombe opened his eyes. They were pure ebony, like black holes.

I glanced to the desk behind him. A monitor ticked over with a live feed from the stock market and just below it sat my sword. Then I spotted my bag and coat draped over the chair.

Ashcombe grinned as I grabbed them, strapped them on and slipped into my coat. "You have your little bag of borrowed magic, Mr. Rook."

A hiss erupted from the circle and a column of thin grey smoke wafted above the rabbit as it began to twitch and drum its dead paws upon the ground.

A figure appeared in the smoke.

The assassin.

I pulled my gun out and fired at Ashcombe. The bullets struck an unseen force that surrounded him and fell to the floor, flattened and bent.

Ashcombe's malicious grin grew wide as the smoke began to thicken. "This will be interesting." The assassin appeared fully formed. Its dead eyes stared at me from above its mask. Dead, but hideously intent.

I readied my sword. The assassin mirrored me as the smoke around it dissipated.

There was no time to frame my intent. I leapt forward and thrust the sword into the place its heart should be.

The creature parried my blade as if it were nothing more than a twig. My arm jolted with the blow and a crippling ache dogged me as I brought my sword up for another strike.

The assassin beat me to it.

I leaped back, the tip of its blade a hair's breadth from my throat. It followed up with a gloved fist that caught me below the eye. I fell in a crumpled heap and watched helplessly as the creature strode past me and made for the upstairs.

"Hellwyn!" I cried out, but my words were mute as silence fell over the world once more.

I spun round to find Ashcombe still sitting cross legged in his circle, his eyes closed, his face rapt with concentration.

A crossroads, two options. Run up the stairs, or stop Ashcombe before he invoked another ruthless entity. I went for the latter and swung at his head. My sword struck the forcefield. It rang like a bell.

The din broke his concentration and disrupted his spell.

Ashcombe shot me a look of hatred and resumed the invocation, his lips twitching with a new sense of urgency. I slashed at him again, my sword striking the barrier around him.

Destroy it.
I allowed my focus to deepen. An energetic thrum passed from my hand to the grip of my sword. I swung again. This time the blade broke through the barrier and stopped just short of his face.

Ashcombe raised a hand writhing with black flames. They reared up like snakes as he drew back, preparing to throw this malignant curse that swelled from his barbarous core.

He'd have to break his barrier to cast it...

I dropped the sword and delved into my bag, grabbed a crystal and prayed it would have enough power to do what was needed.

Ashcombe's hand swept towards me, the black snake-flames shot out. I reached out and grabbed them, hurling them back before the curse could take hold or the invisible barrier could close.

The crystal in my hand exploded and splinters of quartz cut into my flesh. I dropped the shards as the black curse struck Ashcombe's chest. He grimaced, his manicured hands tearing at his white cotton shirt.

The invisible shield around him flickered away.

I dived for my sword, leaned in and smashed him hard in the face with its pommel.

His breathing grew ragged, his eyes turning from black to white as his head arched back and with one last hideous convulsion he toppled dead to the ground.

Static filled my ears, sounds rushed toward me with a roar and adrenaline shot through my heart as I heard a booming crash upstairs.