Dark City (The Order of Shadows Book 1) (7 page)

T
he assassin crossed
the room and the hanging light fixture illuminated its form as it stepped into the hallway. As it passed a mirror I saw that its face was hidden behind a wooden mask, it covered all but its eyes, which were cloudy and blue. A corpse's eyes.

A sheathed sword hung by its side, held in place by a thick black belt laden with leather pouches. Its footfalls were almost silent as it stalked toward the light and sounds that emanated from the room at the end of the hall. A scrape of cutlery on china, running water, a television blaring a documentary.

The assassin dug into one of its pouches and produced a blowgun and a single glass-tipped dart. It was hollow and something moved within the glass, like a stringy form of living moss. Tiny green tendrils unfurled as the assassin held it up to the light.

A chair scraped across the floor in the room as it approached, followed by a wet, phlegmy cough. The assassin reached for the doorframe and peered inside.

A tall, heavy man stood by the kitchen sink. His salt and pepper hair was cropped short, and silvery hairs sprung from the neckline of his t-shirt and ran to the nape of his reddened neck. He scrubbed a plate with a sponge, his attention on the television that sat above the fridge.

The assassin raised its blowgun.

"Get down!" My words were silent, I had no voice.

The assassin blew.

I watched as the dart glinted through the air.

It struck the back of the man's neck. He swore, and batted at the wound, leaving soap suds on his t-shirt. Then he gave a choked cry as he collapsed against the sink.

His face was a brutal, livid purple, his eyes filled with shock. They grew wider as his gaze fell upon the assassin. "Damn you!" he growled as he pulled a carving knife from a drawer, sliced at the air and staggered across the kitchen.

The assassin stood and watched impassively.

"Who sent you..." The man began to cut at the back of his neck, desperately trying to prize the dart free. His fingers came away red with blood. "Who?"

"Sleep." The assassin answered, its voice hoarse and dry.

The man stumbled as if he were standing upon the deck of a surging ship, then he crashed past the assassin, his fingers still probing the bloody wound in his neck. And then, with an agonized cry, he fell to the floor.

His eyes were lifeless now, his face mottled shades of red and mauve, his chest still.

The killer reached down with a gloved hand and removed the living dart. It was free of its glass case and the tiny creature writhed around on the assassin's finger like a putrid-green sea anemone, its twisted form flecked with crimson. The assassin placed it inside a vial, then added a few drops of the man's blood. The moss-like creature thrashed and wriggled around, splattering the vial.

The assassin leaned on its haunches and pulled out a blade. I knew what was to follow, and if I could have turned away, I would have.

I could only watch as the assassin removed the man's eyes and placed them inside a pouch after cutting a bloody gash across his throat, spilling his slow, sluggish blood. Finally it reached down and crossed the man's arms over his chest and began to whisper.

As if summoning...

...Thump.

The sound had come from the future.

From the spot where my empty waiting body stood in a dark apartment.

I searched frantically for a stream of time and found a blue swirl meandering towards the future. It took all of my will to drag my worn lethargic spirit from the assassin and to dive into the river of time.

The light in the apartment changed from shadows to red dawn light, before dimming back to moonlit gloom. I reached the present and slipped back inside my form. I was filled with an immediate sense of relief from the longing in my soul for this living place of warmth and familiarity. The din of my beating heart was almost deafening as I stretched, flexed my fingers, took a deep breath and...

The sound that had jarred me from the past came again.

Thump.

Someone was here, inside the apartment.

A
n overwhelming stench
of soot and vinegar filled the air and the thump resonated again followed by the crackle of dead broken autumn leaves scraping upon a sidewalk. It was the sound of something being summoned.

I wrenched my gun from its holster.

I could feel eyes on me, watching. Cold, malicious, murderous eyes.

Something flickered on the wall. I brought my flashlight up to a painting, a vintage canvas of a glamorous woman standing on a beach, a fairground and Ferris wheel behind her. Her hairstyle and bikini were from a bygone age, and everything about the painting smacked of a longing nostalgia for a glorious time that never was.

It should have been the very picture of warmth and happiness, and yet it filled me with stone-cold dread.

And when I looked closer I saw that the woman's smile didn't quite reach her...icy green eyes. They blinked.

Someone was watching me, remotely. Using the portrait's painted eyes like a camera.

I stared back, determined not to show a shred of the fear that was coiling inside me like a punch to the gut. There was a terrible darkness in those eyes, a twisted, malicious evil. "I"ll find you." I leaned in close and forced a smile. "I swear it."

The eyes bored into mine and I felt a strangely familiar, powerful connection. They blinked once more before returning to their flat painted form. The watcher had gone.

I spun round as a booming hiss erupted from the kitchen, like water dropped into a pan of boiling oil.

I brought my gun up and stepped out into the hallway. My astral form had just passed this way, mere moments ago, but somehow it felt so distant.

As I rounded the doorway to the kitchen I found a molten-red pool. It spread across the scuffed linoleum floor, right where the dead man had lain with his eyeless sockets staring at the pockmarked ceiling.

That's what the assassin had been doing just before I'd been pulled back into the present. Laying a trap within the victim's blood, and the trap had become hidden once the gore had been scrubbed away. But it was still there, waiting for a magical presence to trigger it.

From what I could tell, it was a portal. And it was opening.

The air above the bloody pool shimmered like a mirage and through it I saw a dark forest of twisted trees, their limbs bent into agonized contortions.

Someone rushed through the foliage. A man? He wore simple leather armor and long black riding boots. The top of his face was hidden behind a mask shaped like a golden barbed sun. He grinned, revealing long wolfish teeth and hissed words in a language I'd never heard before, but the sound turned my spine to ice.

A demon.

Fragrant breezes wafted up from the strange landscape, bringing a scent of pine and winter herbs. I found myself intoxicated by their cold, bitter perfume.

I'd heard plenty of tales of other worlds, but I'd never seen one. And here it was, so close. I could have stepped right into it, and I might have tried, if it hadn't been for the demon rushing toward me.

He pushed through the haze and as he stepped into the kitchen, the forest scene faded, taking the otherworldly breeze with it. Heavy black boots thundered upon the kitchen floor, spattering the spectral blood across the linoleum. He was twice my height and fire burned in his terrible eyes. He clutched a carved knife made of bone.

As I backed away he raised his blade, aimed and threw.

I
watched hypnotized
as the dagger flipped through the air.

It spun around, pommel to blade, blade to pommel in a white arc of bone.

Time seemed to slow and the sound of slicing air turned to a roar, as the demon bore down with a wide, hungry grin.

I forced myself to snap out of the spell that held me mesmerized, and ducked. The dagger struck the wall, its bone blade buried to the hilt in the plaster, right in the spot where I'd stood.

A demonic growl filled the room.

I fired twice, the sound almost deafening in the tight space.

Both rounds found their mark. One penetrated the leather armor, right where its heart should be. The other cracked the creature's gold mask, smack in the center. I caught a glimpse of a blackening wound and silver scales as it reached up with a long finger and slipped it into the hole. Its claws dripped with ichor as it pulled out the crumpled bullet and grimaced, its teeth gnashing in fury.

I raised my weapon to take another shot.

The demon glared at the gun, as if trying to work out what it was. As I fired, it flitted away, the bullet barely clipping its shoulder. It stormed past me in a blur of teeth, claws and silver scales.

I flinched, expecting to feel its claws tearing at my throat, but the creature made for the hallway. It was unarmed and shaken. I rushed in pursuit. It reached the front door and yanked at it. It was locked. The demon smashed its fists against the wooden panels.

I fired again, the bullet ripped a hole in its back and the demon whirled round. As it thundered towards me I fired again. The shot went wide and the creature hurtled past me, vanishing into the living room.

Smashing glass rang out and I ran down the hall to see the demon stepping through the broken window, out onto the fire escape. It gave me a final, hate-filled glare before it leapt and vanished from view.

Muffled screams and shouts echoed along the alley and startled faces gazed from windows across the street.

"Shit" The cops would be here any minute.

I grabbed a book from the floor and smashed the jagged shards of glass away from the frame before climbing out onto the fire escape.

The creature was sprawled on the ground below, its body twitching. It rolled onto its back, its piercing eyes staring up at me. Then it leapt to its feet and took off down the alley, with one hand clenched to its chest.

I flew down the fire escape, ignoring the creaks and squeals as it shook, and slid down the ladder. By the time I dropped to the ground the demon was gone. I winced at the sharp pain snapping at my ankles and hobbled on, grabbing a chunk of crystal from my bag and willing its magic to numb my pain.

When I reached the street, there was no sign of the damned creature. I grabbed a vial of Nightsight from my bag and took a swig of the acrid infusion of herbs and roots. It smelled like sewage and I was pretty sure it tasted even worse.

A tingle flickered across my eyelids and the world grew several shades darker. Soon I could see the white-hot footprints that had scorched the ground and the side of a parked car, searing its roof and the asphalt street beyond. The burning trail led over a set of iron railings and vanished beneath the wild scrub in the parkland across the street.

I winced, half blinded by the street lights as I ran across the road. The railings were hot where the creature had grabbed them so I shielded my hands as I hoisted myself up over the rusty spikes.

A jarring pain shot up my legs as I landed, and I limped along the flaming trail to where it vanished.

"Bastard."

The demon had cloaked himself.

I pulled the silver compass from my bag and its face gleamed in the moonlight as I flipped it open. Behind the glass crystal was a scattered mound of iron filings. They were drawn by the demon's dark, eldritch power and formed a rough arrow to point the way. I followed its trail through the park towards a circle of ramshackle buildings. The remains of a small rundown amusement park. Yet another place where happiness and hope had gone to seed. What better place for a demon?

I passed a boarded-up carousel, the hoardings spray-painted with threats, promises, and territorial messages of fury, bravado and hate.

Something creaked in the darkness. I slowed as I walked past a derelict shooting gallery and raised my gun, for all the good it would do.

The filings shifted and pointed behind me...

I spun round just as the demon dropped from the gallery roof. It thudded to the ground, its heavy boots creating fissures in the asphalt.

"Who sent-" I didn't get a chance to finish before its barbed leather fist caught me under the chin. My head lurched back and my ears were filled with a riot of pain and noise.

It drew its fist back to strike me again. I dodged and its claws whistled through empty air. I grabbed its forearm and fired my gun point blank into its wrist.

The demon howled, the din stinging my ears. My nostrils flared with the sickening stench of burnt flesh and brimstone as the demon kicked out and its boot caught me in the midriff. I buckled over and the breath rushed from my lungs. I stumbled back as the creature drew its fist into the air to punch me again.

I watched as it sailed down towards me, then I grabbed it in my hand and twisted it hard. The demon howled again. I tackled it to the ground. It tried to squirm free, but I pinned it down and sat astride its chest.

I dug the hot end of the gun into the wound in its wrist. It screamed. "Hurts, does it?" I growled.

It gurgled in its alien tongue.

"Who sent you?" I pushed the gun further into the smoking hole in its wrist. Black ichor seeped from the wound and it was all I could do not to gag.

The demon shook its head as I wrenched off its mask and threw it aside, revealing an oval of silver scales. I looked into its blazing green eyes. "I asked you a question."

It growled and muttered twisted, unintelligible words.

"In English." I placed the end of the gun against its forehead. "Tell me who sent you."

Its eyes grew bright. "Go to hell!"

It spat. The gob singed the side of my face. I pushed the gun harder to its skull. "I'll keep you here. You can thrash around in agony until the sun comes up and finishes you off. Is that what you want?"

"Release me." It muttered a series of words I couldn't understand.

A stabbing pain hit me with the force of a hurricane. It started in the center of my skull, as wicked as the mother of all migraines and felt as if it was singeing every one of my nerves. Most people would have caved and released the creature, but I'm not most people.

I dug into my bag with my free hand, looking for something to break the curse. A mistake. The demon seized the moment and uttered a string of sing-song words.

An invocation.

I grabbed its jaw but the flesh turned to smoke and ran through my fingers.

There was nothing I could do but watch as the demon began to dissolve. Its face rippled and blackened and my hands passed through its chest and struck the ground as the fumes filled my mouth and nostrils.

The last thing I saw was its wolfish grin, then its smoky remains snaked away on the breeze.

It seemed fitting. Of late, my whole life felt like chasing smoke.

I climbed to my feet and walked away, empty handed, bruised and broken.

* * *

I
grabbed
a bottle of bourbon on the way home, the perfect companion on a slow steady one-way trip into the painless comfort of unconsciousness. I was done. No more demons, assassins or vampires. For now at least.

Storm was the only one cat in my apartment that night. I found him perched on the cabinet next to Willow's picture. Unlike the others, who only used my place as a second home, Storm was feral and lean. His shoulders were broad and hard as stone, the map of scars covering his face marked old wounds from countless battles. He'd appeared one night late last autumn as lightning raged across the sky, hence his name.

I nodded to him, lit some candles and poured myself a drink. He blinked slowly back, before looking away.

The bourbon went down fast. I lay back on the sofa and gazed at the flickering flames. It had been a strange, painful day and I had almost as little to go on now, as I'd had when I'd started.

I checked my phone for updates from Haskins, but the screen was empty, so I refilled my glass, sipped it slowly and made my way to bed.

My dreams plunged me into the forest I'd seen beyond the portal. I wandered, lost among the towering, twisted trees and awoke hours later to a burning sensation on the side of my face. Right where the demon had spat at me. It still burned like hell. I dipped my fingers in water and rubbed the spot, before attempting to pull the blanket over me.

It wouldn't move.

I gazed down at the foot of the bed to find Storm perched on the corner like a gargoyle, staring out the window.

My guardian.

I whispered a greeting to him, before falling into a long, feverish sleep.