Dark City (The Order of Shadows Book 1) (18 page)

I
flew up the stairs
, taking them two at a time, my sword gouging plaster from the wall as I ran. Another thundering crash echoed through the room, and I heard Hellwyn's hoarse shout, "You fucking snake!"

The room sizzled with a furious energy as I bolted in.

Hellwyn was poised in the corner, shielded by an overturned bookcase while the assassin stalked towards her.

"Just give in, fighting it's futile." Prentice casually swung a sword as he skulked behind the creature's long black cloak.

"I'm going to gut you, you traitorous prick," Hellwyn shouted, then she and Prentice turned toward me.

"That looks like....that's Tom's coat." Prentice brought his blade up. "And why do you have his sword?"

I ignored him and ran at the assassin, my blade high, my intent focused only on separating its head from its neck.

The Hexling barely looked my way as it parried my blow.

I ducked back from the sweep of its sword and lunged again. This time my blade passed through its chest as if it were made of straw. Foul, noxious vapor streamed into the air as the creature rounded on me and raised its sword for a killing stroke.

I blocked the blow but the force of it sent a shockwave of pain through my wrist and arm.

The assassin's eyes glowed as it pulled its sword away. I stepped in close and stabbed again. The blade plunged through its side, but it did nothing to slow the creature's murderous advance.

Hellwyn came up from behind as it bore down on me, her sword passing in an arc towards the back of its neck. It didn't waver as it threw out its arm to block her assault. Sparks blazed from the armor concealed beneath its simple black cloak.

I lifted my sword to strike but it lunged forward, its fist striking me in the solar plexus and knocking me to the ground.

The assassin spun back to Hellwyn just as she swung again. It parried and tried to follow through with another punch, but she ducked and stabbed up with her blade. It passed through the assassin's arm pit and burst from its shoulder.

Hellwyn let go of the hilt and the assassin fumbled to pull it free as blue-black viscous liquid spilled from the wound.

I scrambled to my feet to assist her in the assault just as Prentice appeared.

"Hellwyn!" My cry was cut short as her eyes widened and metal glinted through, just under the gentle curve of her chin. Blood sprayed in a fine mist as Prentice pushed his sword deeper still.

Time stopped, and then the world became a blur, a roar. My stomach felt hollow, until it filled with lava and my whole system shook with adrenaline, rage and grief. I stumbled towards Prentice but the assassin blocked my strike, Hellwyn's sword still lodged under its arm. It pulled its fist back and punched me again.

Pain ripped across the side of my face. I went down hard.

Hellwyn still stood. She gave me a calm, resolute look. A trickle of blood ran from her lips, and then she fell. Within moments the trickle became a mournful crimson slick.

I forced myself to my knees and pulled my gun out. I fired at Prentice. My aim was screwed and the bullet clipped his arm. He grimaced and stumbled back, but remained on his feet.

I fired again but the assassin stepped into its path and the round tore through its chest. It stared at me, its eyes dead, its face utterly dispassionate.

"Kill him!" Prentice demanded. But the creature ignored him.

Right. It only had one master. It wasn't Prentice but it was only a matter of time before the command was given, and when it was, I was fucked. Especially in my current state.

I clambered to my feet, grabbed my sword and bolted across the room. There was only one clear way out.

I dove through the window.

Glass exploded and glittered in the air around me as I fell.

Ashcombe's Jaguar rose up below me. I hit the roof hard, my knees buckling as a fresh new agony tore through my senses. Then pain burst through my torso as I dragged myself off the dented roof and fell sharply to the ground.

I yelled out. It felt like a thousand invisible needles stabbed at my nerves as I pulled myself up and hobbled away. Fresh tinkles of glass fell behind me. I turned back to see the assassin standing in the room above, framed by the shattered window. It stared down at me before turning away.

I staggered into the cover of the forest, half running, half limping, my body a map of hurt. Hellwyn's last, dying gaze played through my mind as if it were on a torturous loop. I ached to turn back and slay that bastard Prentice and the assassin, to burn the house down around them, but I knew in that instance I was beat.

I wasn't giving up. No, I was going after them, but on my terms.

I waited among the trees, watching the house. As soon as I knew the assassin was gone, I'd take out Prentice, murder him. But only after he'd given up the Hexling's whereabouts. I needed the puppet so I could follow the strings that led to its master.

It was a simple enough plan.

White hot agony continued to roar through my body. I reached into my bag for a vial of narcspyce. It would deaden the pain, as well as my senses for a short while, but that was a risk I was willing to take.

Soon, the discomfort receded and as it did, it was replaced with grief and horror. The trees blurred around me as realizations filled my thoughts and tears of fury stung my eyes.

I'd spent such a short time with Hellwyn. Had barely gotten to know her and yet I missed her so keenly. And I felt utterly responsible for her death. She'd successfully evaded the assassin, and Prentice. Then I turned up. She'd only poked her head out because she thought she had an ally. She'd been counting on me and I'd let her down. Now she was dead.

Just like Tom.

I slid down the tree and sprawled across the cold ground, anger and sorrow chasing each other's tails as I stared at the distant house and swore I'd end Prentice, the Hexling, and its master before the day was out.

A
fter a time Prentice
left the house, alone. He frowned as he inspected the roof of the Jaguar, before climbing inside. I forced myself to my feet. The pain was bad, but I'd had worse. I stumbled through the trees as the car rolled down the drive.

The motorbike was exactly where I'd left it. I rooted through my bag. I had three crystals left, and my ammo was severely depleted. I considered calling Underwood, but what was the point? He'd warned me to back off, to let the Organization deal with it. No, I was on my own.

As ever.

I grasped the crystal tightly, drained its power and used it to tail the Jag. Its silvery trail was still visible. Just. I grabbed the helmet, dusted it off, turned the motorbike on and held my breath as it rumbled into life.

The wheels skidded through the wet leaves as I jumped down the incline and landed squarely in the middle of the dirt road. The silver lines of the Jaguar still threaded through the air, but were fading fast.

I gunned the engine and swept down the hill to where the silver trails grew brighter. Once I saw the car's tail lights I fell back, eager not to get spotted. The car roared down the highway as the heavens opened up and rain pounded the pavement. I kept back and put a few cars between us, my mood calm and focused, until he turned off toward the hills.

The hills that housed the asylum.

The sky darkened and the rain continued to fall cold and hard. I merged off the highway, following the Jaguar as it wound its way up that horribly familiar road, toward the wooded summit and the dark place that inspired my nightmares.

I ditched the motorbike near the gates and cut through the thick forest near the top of the hill. Pain still wracked my body and I was tempted to down another vial of narcospyce, but I needed to keep my head clear.

My senses were hyper alert; it felt like I could see every blade of grass leaning in the breeze. As I stumbled up a slope of muddy earth and glistening roots, I glanced back to see the highway far below and in the distance, the city.

It seemed so very far away. An entire world away.

I paused to catch my breath and load my gun as soon as I reached the summit. Cold rain fell upon my face like a baptism. I lifted my head to the billowy charcoal sky, loosened the catch on my scabbard and looked back to the great dark building nestled in the trees.

That black and broken place, that factory of nightmares and utter dread.

* * *

T
he place hadn't changed
, repressive brownstone blocks, barred windows and the towers strangled in ivy. The stony drive sat empty but for the silver Jaguar with the dented roof.

I stuck to the tree line and made my way around the back of the building, hoping to find a way in without being detected. My heart raced. It felt like the very air itself pulsed with foreboding and the heavy aura of evil and suffering weighed on me. It emanated from the asylum, seeping though the invisible blanket of despair that covered it like a shroud.

There was magic here. Deep magic. It welled up from unspeakable sources. I thought back to the tunnel in the Hinterlands and my encounter with the werewolf and those black forces that had stirred inside me.

I never wanted to encounter anything like it again. It had saved my ass, but at what price? Proceeding now could likely put me in the same position again. Was I prepared to sacrifice my very being to that hideous darkness?

I thought again of calling the Organization. They were equipped to deal with this, they had more experienced agents that would take the case, even if they were little more than bounty hunters. But I felt I couldn't trust them, and besides, I had to be the one to avenge Hellwyn and Tom. I needed to know it had been done, I needed the closure.

I ran alongside the back of the building and finally found a broken window, a few dagger-like shards of glass jutted from the frame. I smashed them out, climbed up to the sill and dropped in, landing on a hard floor peppered with broken glass.

The room was vast, its soot-stained ceiling high and wide. It reeked of decay and piss but the checkered linoleum floor still held a faint tang of antiseptic, a ghostly scent from the past.

I could feel the despair and almost hear the cries and screams of the poor tormented souls who had been committed here. The air stirred around me, as if the shades of yesterday were still shuffling through the rooms. Dead now, their lost souls forever roaming the place of their torment.

Being here made me feel sick. I despised the place, loathed the sight of its cracked walls and the stench of madness and distress. I'd vowed never to come back. And here I was, like a fly choosing to revisit the spider's web.

Gruff laughter echoed down the dark corridor beyond; I stole across the room and peered round the charred, broken door.

The long hall was bathed in gloom despite the candles that were dotted along the length of the floor. The flames flickered within the thick waxy stumps. Some yellow and orange, some electric-blue.

Witch fire.

I slipped into the shadows as a figure appeared at the end of the corridor. It was huge and definitely not human. Its hair seemed to writhe and dance as it turned and kicked a door open, stepped through, and slammed it shut.

Voices chattered, whispered and gibbered as I inched along the hallway.

The asylum was full once more, but now it seemed the inmates had been replaced by squatters. Dark magic filled the air. I caught glimpses of demons, gaunt-faced magicians and heavy-set trolls.

I reached into my bag and pulled out my penultimate crystal and clutched it hard, allowing its magic to soak through me. I conjured a simple cloaking spell to hide myself from view. If any of them looked my way, they'd see one of their own, but with a face full of boils and sores - something to stay away from.

The spell worked as I passed a pair of vampires. They backed against the wall, their lips curling with disgust. I continued on. The place was swarming with Nightkind. There was no telling how many had gathered below the asylum's roof, or exactly what had attracted them. Was this where the darkness smothering the city was originating from?

I thought of the black portal, that dark star of my visions, and wondered if it was still upstairs. Yes it was, I could almost hear its heavy ocean-like hum.

Blood spattered glass, clear and red, crunched below my feet as I walked towards the great staircase ahead.

Someone was descending.

A woman.... She was grey within the murk, as if she'd been woven from shadows. Long black hair fell down her back.

It could be anyone.

My heart pounded hard.

But she looked like Elsbeth Wyght.
A lot
like Elsbeth Wyght.

I pulled out my gun, my hand shaking violently.

One shot was all it would take.

She stepped into the hallway, her long off-white dress trailing to the ground. Someone walked with her, a powerful looking woman with rich golden hair twisted into a bun. The pair of them headed toward the front doors.

I stalked after them, my hand tightening on the gun's grip.

It was a clean shot. She'd be dead before she could even think of counteracting my attack. But the gunfire would alert every creature in the place to my presence. And what if it wasn't her?

Indecision crippled me. I needed a positive I.D....plus I was hot on the trail of Prentice, the assassin and its master...and this was likely my only chance to take them out for good.

I watched the two women as they approached the door. The blonde reached out and held it open for the woman in the dress. Daylight burst through the doorway, melting the details of the dark-haired woman into a silhouette.

My feet were frozen. My heart screamed to go after them, while my head told me to holster the gun and finish the job I'd started.

And then the doors slammed shut, the light vanished, and they were gone.

I felt sick. I forced myself to take a deep breath and I began to climb the wide stairway. The wooden steps felt solemn and heavy, or maybe it was the memories the place was bringing to mind. I hadn't climbed these stairs in years and somehow it felt like I was ascending toward the end.

Figures shifted in the darkness around me. Eyes glowed and voices rasped. I ignored them, kept my head down, and stepped onto the landing as I made my way along the corridor ahead.

Nausea flooded through me but I continued step after step.

The hairs on my neck prickled. Someone was following me. I could smell blood and mania as I counted their thumping, slapping predatory paces.

My hand strayed to my gun but I left it in its holster. It would be too loud.

I unsheathed my sword and whirled around.