Dark Seduction (20 page)

Zen didn't answer. Too confused to think straight, and too afraid he would say the wrong thing. What did she want of him?

As if she read his mind, Melantha said, “I need your support. Together we can beat them. Together we can make them all pay. Everyone. Are you with me?”

Zen nodded. What choice did he have?

Melantha grinned. She wrung her hands as if wringing necks.

Zen knew she was mad. Nobody sane harboured such hatred and anger, and even if they did, they wouldn't act on what they felt.

“Remember your bet?” a voice whispered from the shadows.

Zen felt his blood run cold as he recognised the albino man's voice.

“It's time,” the albino man said. “The dice are cast, the wheel's spinning, the cards are dealt.”

Melantha turned and surveyed the buildings. “Who's that?” she asked, a devious grin splitting her lips. “It's him, isn't it? The pale leech.” She looked at Zen for verification, although her expression said she already knew she was right.

Zen gave a slight nod.

“I knew you'd come eventually,” Melantha said, addressing the shadows. “Now why don't you come out and face me.”

“
Kill her
,” the albino man hissed, his voice seeming to come from numerous shadows and many mouths. “
Kill her, now
.”

Zen covered his ears with his hands, the resultant pain from his injured hand preferable to the voice, because he didn't want to listen. The voice sounded hypnotic; taunting him.

Melantha hurried towards a doorway and pulled a skulking man out into the street. His muscles rippled; and although physically more than capable, he didn't resist.

Zen watched, intrigued as the man's expression turned from one of avarice to one of sycophantic devotion; the expression looked sickly. His blue eyes melted as he looked at Melantha, and although he had seen it before, Zen still couldn't believe the change his mother induced in people.

It was magic.

Evil.

Bloody fantastic.

Just imagine, with a power like that he could shag any girl in the world. Models, film stars, pop stars, they would all kneel before him and suck the cock of their God; they would all be putty in his hands. And Melantha could help him. Perhaps the pain would be worth it if he could become a living God.

    Melantha looked at the man she had grabbed with nothing but disgust. She pursed her lips, deliberating before handing him her knife. The man accepted it like the crown jewels, he now their protector.

“Cut yourself,” she said.

The man licked his lips as though fighting an internal dilemma before putting the blade of the knife to his wrist and drawing it across the skin. A thin red line appeared, a scratch.

“Deeper,” Melantha cooed.

The man licked his lips and groaned in rapture. He put the blade back onto his wrist and made a second cut, just above the first, but deeper, much deeper. Zen could see the layers of skin part like tissue paper.

The man grimaced.

“Deeper,” Melantha whispered. “Deeper.”

The man obeyed, the knife sinking into his arm. He sweated, his teeth gritted, but he didn't stop cutting.

Although sickened by the sight, Zen couldn't look away. He watched mesmerised as the man continued to hack at his own flesh, sawing through sinew and muscle, the blood a lubricant that sprayed his face as he severed a main artery, the blood pumping in time to his heart like a grotesque fountain. With the muscle severed, the man's hand flopped uselessly, but he didn't stop cutting. When the blade hit bone, he continued to saw; the sound chilled Zen's blood and he looked away as the man dropped to the ground. If Melantha possessed an ounce of sanity, Zen knew she would have enlisted the man’s help with her power, not turned it against him.

A shape flashed out of the shadows; the albino man whirling and dancing with an arsenal of sharp steel that spun magically around his hands.

Zen let out a little whimper of fright and turned towards Melantha, noticed her walking down the street, searching doorways.

He wanted to cry out to her, but his mouth wouldn't work. He tried to swallow, but couldn't, tried to run, but couldn't, tried to move, but couldn't. Paralysed, he stared at the albino man as he flew at him, grinning as much as the curved blades he employed so expertly. The whirling steel left faint phosphorescent trails in its wake like fireworks, an echo of movement so fast that it blurred like propeller blades.

“You lose,” the albino man said, laughing as he lunged with his spinning blades.

CHAPTER 31

The dog sailed towards Verity with its teeth bared, snarling.

She ducked, but wasn't quick enough. The beast's claws caught her shoulder, tore fresh wounds, causing her to stumble back and collapse.

Pain shot up her back as she hit the ground and the creature knocked some of the wind out of her as it landed on her stomach, causing further pain as it aggravated her injuries.

She hardly dared look up, but she had to. If she was going to die, she was going to look death straight in the eye.

She wished she hadn't.

The beast slobbered over her, a web of saliva hanging from its maw as it lowered its head to feast.

A scream rang out, and Verity wondered how she made the noise without opening her mouth. It took her a moment to realise she hadn't screamed. Someone else had. The noise originated behind the beast. It lifted its maw, its nostrils flared as it sniffed the air, its head turning, eyes as black as coal.

The sound of displaced air replaced the scream and Verity saw a flash of movement that took the beast by surprise. The next moment its maw headed for her face again, but this time in a languid movement, its tongue lolling. She moved her head aside as the beast's head hit the spot where her face had been. She watched it roll away. Decapitated.

She looked up at the headless body, a fountain of blood spraying into the air before its muscles gave way and it collapsed on top of her, a dead weight.

“Are you okay?” a gummy voice asked.

Verity looked up at Leo with tears in her eyes. She had never been so glad to see anyone in her life. He sheathed his sword, bent down to help roll the beast’s carcass off her chest, and then helped her to her feet.

She hugged him, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Leo ... I ... I …” She buried her face in the crook of his shoulder.

“I know,” Leo said. “I know.” He stroked her head and patted her back.

Verity winced as her wounds throbbed, but she couldn't let go. Not yet. She needed the comfort and security his embrace afforded.

Remembering the teeth she had found, she regrettably pulled out of his hold and held them out to him. “I found these ... I thought you were dead.”

Leo accepted them and slipped them back in his mouth. “No, I just spit the bloody things out when something attacked me. I think the thing was more frightened than me after that. You should have seen its face. It almost had a fit before it hightailed it out of here.” He laughed and pushed his teeth out a bit, as if reconstructing the event.

Verity laughed along with him, finding it hard to stop once she started.

She wiped her eyes, the pain from where the beast’s claws dug in now starting to filter through. She inspected the wound; it looked no worse than those that already marred her torso, and it certainly wasn't as painful.

Growls filled the air, and Verity turned, alarmed to see the imps that had been playing around the grotesque Maypole advancing towards them, using their legs and four arms in unison to propel them along.

“
Run
,” Leo screeched, grabbing Verity's hand and dragging her after him.

Legs still aching from descending the lighthouse, she caught her second wind when faced with death and she ran.

Although Leo instigated their flight, Verity found herself taking the lead, pulling him in her wake. When he began to labour, she slowed her pace, but the imp-like creatures were gaining, their clawed hands and feet scoring the ground.

She knew Leo wouldn't be able to go on much longer, but she couldn't leave him; she couldn't let the monsters have him to play with.

The buildings towered over them, dark abodes that offered the promise of numerous hiding places, but they looked too scary to enter.

Something moved and a figure jumped out of the doorway of a building, startling her. She stopped running and stared at the large man dressed in a tattered black suit. He stood shaking, his brown, oval face speckled with blood, and his black moustache as down turned as his mouth. He levelled a shotgun in her direction.

Verity took an involuntary step back.

“
Duck
,” the man screamed, and Verity hit the deck, pulling Leo down with her as a series of loud bangs reverberated through the air.

She heard the pitter-patter of lead pellets striking buildings, followed by screams and mewling sounds. Slowly, she lifted her head and looked back to see the imps peppered with buckshot. Those that had taken the brunt of the pellets lay on the ground, surrounded by pools of noxious smelling blood. The ones further back nursed their wounds. Some limped; others crawled. They looked pitiful.

Footsteps approached, and Verity jumped to her feet. Leo stood up beside her and dusted himself down.

“Are you all right, Leo?” the man with the gun asked.

“It's been a long time, Barrabas.”

Barrabas laughed. “You’re the last person I expected to see here.”

“I didn't have much choice.” Leo shook his head. “You were stupid to follow Melantha into this place.”

“I know that now.” He levelled the gun, pumped it and fired off another couple of shots at the imps. “Have you seen Melantha?”

“No.”

“I see you've found Verity Crowe, though,” he said, the words looking like they stung his mouth.

“You know me?” Verity asked, her ears ringing from the guns report.

Barrabas nodded, his expression hardening.

Verity frowned.

“Yes, you're one of the Crowe descendants.” He looked at Verity with spiteful brown eyes.

Leo lifted the tip of his sword to Barrabas's throat. “If you hurt her in
any
way, I'll kill you.”

Barrabas pushed the blade aside. “There's more things for me to be afraid of in this place than your stick, Leo.”

“Yes, my curse for one.”

Barrabas chewed his lip but didn't reply.

Leo lowered his sword. He looked at Verity. “Shall we take him with us?”

Verity stared at Barrabas, could feel the hate emanating back. “At least if he's with us, I won't have to keep looking over my shoulder.” She indicated Barrabas should walk in front, then she followed.