half-lich 02 - void weaver

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Their enemy is getting away. Their danger is just getting started…

Alice is in hiding. Holed up in a magically-protected house without her main weapon, the supernatural bounty hunter wants nothing more than to hunt Nyx down. But her enemy is in hiding too, and without her powers the dangerous Pain Children are more than a match for her.

When Alice learns that Isaac Moreau remains in Magistrate custody, she has no choice but to follow Nyx’s trail without backup. Her only chance to catch the villain may lie in Isaac’s attempt to learn the dark, deadly secret of the Void. His failure could get them all killed in the process.

Prologue

Dark Kiss

Raegan Theroux was a dead girl walking, and within the next hour of her life she would know it.

Her evening began just like any other did. At half past five in the afternoon, after the nurse arrived, Raegan left her mother’s side and took the subway halfway across town to her place of work; a small, 70’s style all-chrome diner clinging to the edge of the Warwick financial district, a dwarf among giants. The yellow neon light on top spelled the word “Kasey’s”, and hanging from one of the long windows was another sign which read “Burger and Fries, only $3.99 after 8pm.”

The diner sat on a busy street opposite a gas station. It had a small parking lot all to itself, black and white checkerboard tiles, and red vinyl seats. Mounted on the walls next to a number of—tastefully fake—platinum records were images of Johnny Cash, the Beatles, and
the three kings
; Elvis Presley, Michael Jackson, and Freddie Mercury.

Kasey’s was also the proud owner of a classic jukebox that let you play a whole host of old school songs, if you had the quarters for it. No one used it much these days, but Raegan did when the place was quiet. She had a special key she could use to make it work without the need for quarters and enjoyed watching the records slide out of the rack, slip onto the turntable, and wait for the needle.

Just after six, a couple of minutes late for her shift courtesy of the clogged up and piss-ridden Ashwood metro system, Raegan slipped into her black and Barbie pink uniform and got to work waiting tables during the dinner rush. It wasn’t a job she enjoyed, serving plate after plate of burgers, chili cheese fries, and fried chicken for minimum wage plus tips, but it was something, and
someone
needed to pay her mother’s medical bills.

Raegan had wanted to be a musician once, a singer, and had been for a time. She and a couple of her college friends had started a little rock band and had landed a couple of small shows playing covers. They were working up to originals. But when her mom got sick she had to, as her own mother had put it,
give that crap up and get a real job
.

And now she was here, at midnight on a Friday, getting ready to close up on her own because Marie’s babysitter had only been paid up to eleven and she needed to get home early. It wasn’t the first time Marie had pulled a similar line on a Friday, and Raegan was sure if she checked her social media account in an hour or so she’d see pictures of Marie at some club somewhere with a drink in her hand and a guy attached to her mouth.

Whatever,
Raegan thought, and she went over to the jukebox, unlocked it, and slid a record onto the turntable. A mariachi band was playing and Johnny Cash was singing about falling into a burning ring of fire when Raegan spotted the large truck pulling into the diner’s parking lot. She wasn’t sure what it was at first, but when she went to the door to flip the sign from open to closed, the massive, rectangular crushing machine attached to the cockpit identified it as a garbage truck.

Raegan stared through the glass door, seeing both the truck and her own ghostly, caramel skinned reflection. When it became clear that the driver, a tall man wearing a set of blue coveralls and sporting a receding hairline and a comb over, was stepping out of his truck with the intention of coming into the diner, she grabbed the open/closed sign and held it between her fingers. The diner didn’t close for another half an hour, but she had been left on her own and she had a subway train to catch. It was either close early or miss her train.

The garbage man came up to the door just as Raegan flipped the sign to
Closed
.

“Sorry,” she said through the glass, “But we’re closed.”

“Aww, no! Aren’t you normally open a while longer?” the man asked as he approached.

“Yeah, but we’re closing early tonight for… maintenance.”

The man smiled. “That’s a shame. Listen, if I could trouble you for a cup of coffee, that’s all I really want—I’ve got food in the truck.”

“I’m really sorry but I’ve turned the machine off. I think they do coffee at the gas station across the road though, right? Maybe you could try there?”

“I could, but if I’m honest, that coffee tastes terrible. Yours is pretty good.”

Raegan realized she hadn’t yet let go of the sign on the door. Her hands fell away from it covered in a thin film of sweat.

“All I need is a cup of coffee before my rounds and I’ll be out of your hair,” the man said, smiling. “I’ll drop you a big tip?”

Raegan opened the door and let the night in remembering she had a baseball bat under the counter, and telling herself she would use it if she had to.

“Ahh, Johnny Cash,” said the garbage man as he walked inside, rubbing his hands and courteously nodding at Raegan who had stepped aside. “I haven’t heard this song in a while. Big Country fan?”

“Big oldies fan,” she said, closing the door behind him. For a garbage man, he didn’t smell bad. She circled around the counter, making a mental note of the baseball bat lying inert under the cash register, and asked “How do you like your coffee?”

“Diesel n’ dynamite.”

Raegan stopped at the coffee machine and turned her head. “I’m sorry? I didn’t get that.”

The garbage man smiled. “Sorry. Means I like it strong, dark, and with three sugars.”

“Alright, coming right up.”

He drummed his fingers on the counter to the tune of the music until the song was over. When Raegan turned around again with the coffee in a to-go cup, she found him looming over the jukebox and selecting another song.

“Coffee’s ready,” she said, placing the cup on the counter for him to pick up.

The garbage man turned around and smiled, but he did something she hadn’t expected him to do, something which didn’t…
feel
… quite right. He had started dancing to Johnny Cash’s “I walk the line” as he approached the counter, stepping and hitching, doing a cowboy boogie and singing along with the music.

Raegan smiled a nervous smile. “You’re definitely a fan, then,” she said.

“Oh yeah,” he said, grabbing the cup of coffee and helping himself to a stool at the bar. “I went to see him back in, oh, ninety-three I think it was. Willie Nelson was at that one, and Mellencamp. Charlie Daniels, too. Man, that guy can fiddle, let me tell you. Still got the t-shirt from that one somewhere. Little faded now, though.” He took a sip of the coffee, smacked his lips, and raised the cup in a gesture of cheerful satisfaction. “Now
that’s
good stuff. Exactly what I needed.”

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