Resistance (Dark Realm Series) (4 page)

"And how did you come by this
information?" I asked as he scrutinized the map.

"I cannot divulge my sources."
Fenwick's voice shook.

"Really?" I caressed the barrel
of the pistol while eyeing him pointedly.

"All right." The demon threw up
his hands. "It was the ghoul, Lemrick. The one you killed in the
alley."

Convenient. No possible way to question a
dead ghoul, not even with a séance.

"Hey. Wait a minute. How did you know
I killed him?" Suddenly, I knew the answer. "You were watching us
before you hid in here, weren't you?"

"I admit my cowardice," Fenwick
cried holding his hands in front of his face defensively.

More likely trying to see if he could
pick off any of the loser's property. I shook my head. "And what did this
ghoul want in exchange for this information?"

"Lemrick demanded a human,"
Fenwick replied.

My eyes darted to Cam whose expression
had darkened, his blue eyes glinted and his mouth compressed in a tight line.

"Why did he want a human?" I
asked thinking of how the ghoul had seemed intent on using the crystal and had
even turned away from his fight with me to do it.

"I thought he just wanted a good
meal," Fenwick said calmly.

"You little bastard," Cam yelled
and charged at the demon brandishing my silver dagger.

I grabbed him around the waist, halting
him before he could do any damage. "I can't let you kill him." My
voice was a furious whisper. "We need him."

After a few seconds, he stopped straining
against my hold. Shaking me off, he spun on his heel and then paced to the
front window to gaze out onto the street.

"Show us where this factory
is." Turning to glance over my shoulder to include Driscoll, I crossed to
the counter to scrutinize the map. My s
uperior
officer was no longer behind me. Where
was he? "Driscoll?"

He peeked out from behind the backroom
drape and when he'd surveyed the room—probably seeing the budding fight
had been averted—he stepped out with a swagger. "Just checking out a
noise."

With a disgusted sigh, I motioned him
over. Fenwick pointed to the map in the general area of Southwark.

"Where
exactly
is the factory?" I lacked
further patience with Fenwick's hedging. "I want the address."

"Father," Cam suddenly burst
out with happy excitement.

"Your father?" Fenwick asked,
peering out at him over his long pointy nose.

"He's coming this way." Cam's
face lit with a smile.

Rising to my feet, I joined the young man
at the window. Outside, a cloaked figure on the opposite side of the road
paused and glanced from side to side before commencing to cross. The hood
shrouded his features from view, but the figure did seem male by the way it
moved. Yet there was something distinctly odd. I couldn't quite put my finger
on it.

"How do you know it's your father?"
I asked.

"I recognize the braiding on his
cloak." Cam rushed to the front door.

The trepidation I felt nagged me again.
"Wait," I yelled.

He threw back the bolt lock and twisted
the knob.

"What's happening?" Driscoll
inched forward before edging back toward the safety of the storage room.

Cam opened the front door and yelled,
"Father."

The figure passed under a street lamp and
the movement and fluttering under the cloak became visible, casting a misshapen
shadow. But then I realized what was so odd about the figure. Although giving
the illusion of walking, the figure had no feet.

"That's not your father," I
screamed. "That's an Amalgam."

"Be
extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness."

Sun
Tzu
, The Art
of War

The instant the door opened, the cloak
fell back revealing a "man" made entirely of shiny black feathers.
But this impression was of the briefest duration before the parts of the man
scattered and ravens—a flock of at least one hundred—dove with
purpose toward the shop.

My legs seemed stuck in quicksand as I
moved toward the door, grabbed its frame and began to push it shut. The ravens
swarmed through the narrowing entrance, the flapping of their wings, clicking
of their beaks and shrieking caws a cacophony of sound assaulting my ears. As
if in an organized dance, the birds broke into four groups, one squadron for
each of us.

Cam dropped to a crouch covering his head
with his hands as the birds struck at him. Driscoll ran screaming into the back
room and the sounds of smashing glass and thuds were all that emerged. Fenwick
fended off his attackers with spitballs that emerged from his mouth as saliva
and then sparked to flame before striking a bird. Fenwick edged toward the
fireplace where he hopped into the middle of the hearth's blazing fire and
scrambled up the chimney.

I struck at my ravens with my hands and
knocked one away preventing it from taking out my eye with its sharp beak. In
the front window was perched a cricket bat. Grabbing it, I used the bat on the
birds as if they were balls. Striking one black bird with a hook I could
probably have scored a run except for the next bird flying toward me.

The caws and clicking of the ravens
coalesced into a staccato pattern and the rhythm created words. "He. Sees.
You." Then the words turned to a chant."He sees you. He sees
you."

Four or five birds attacked the pocket of
my coat, tearing at the fabric and rending the seams. That was the pocket where
I'd placed the crystal. Plunging one hand toward my pocket as I swatted with
the bat with the other, I reached for the crystal. The ravens viciously pecked
my hand. The pocket gave way and the crystal fell to the floor. As it skidded
along the wood, I scrambled after it. My fingers touched the edge just as a
raven darted in and scooped the rock into his beak. The raven gurgled a
triumphant laughing caw. It spread its wings and my grab for the bird resulted
in only a handful of air as the beast escaped into the night through the still
open door. Gleeful bird screeching echoed through the shop and the ravens
regrouped into one throng and then streamed out after their leader.

In the quiet aftermath, only the sound of
our labored breathing was heard. No sign of Fenwick. He'd escaped through the
chimney and clearly wasn't in a hurry to return. That meant we'd get no more
details from him about the precise location of Gethin's factory.

"Lieutenant Driscoll," I
called. "Are you injured?"

In response the clatter of falling boxes
and then, "I'm all right."

Cam unfolded from a crouching position
and slowly rose. He shook himself off. Eyes widening, he ran out the door.
"Father," he screamed as he reached the crumpled cloak lying in the
street. He kneeled and with a ginger touch picked up the garment and buried his
face in it.

I followed him outside and came to a halt
at his side.

Cam lifted his head and peered up at me.
"It's his. I knew it. They've taken him."

"You don't know that," I said
but I knew from my experience that he was right.

Cam buried his face in the cloak again.

"Come," I urged with a gentle
tone. "We'll go to your lodging. Maybe your father returned there."

He didn't move.

Driscoll strolled outside dusting himself
off. "We need to get back to base and report what's happened to the
general." He shook his head. "She's not going to like it."

As Cam continued to kneel in the street,
I had the urge to take him in my arms and rock him like a child.
I don't really
care about him,
I assured myself.
This feeling was merely the after effects of the
connection to his blood.
Besides, comforting him wouldn't serve either of
us. He couldn't be allowed to wallow in his loss. Eradicating all weakness was
the only way to survive.

"Get up, Private," I commanded.
"Shake it off, soldier." Harsh treatment was necessary. We weren't
getting anywhere sitting here while he succumbed to trauma.

"Leave the kid alone," Driscoll
said. "You don't have to be such a heartless bitch, Amy."

I rounded on Driscoll and shouted into
his face. "That's Corporal Bitch to you, sir."

"You obviously don't know what it's
like to love your father." Driscoll sneered with an angry glint in his
eyes. He knew he'd gotten to me and he pressed his advantage.

I stared at him for a few seconds.
"You're right. I don't know what Cam's feeling." Turning away, I took
a few steps and then paused. "I didn't love my father." I tossed the
words over my shoulder. "I killed him."

* * * * *

We'd traveled little more than three
blocks before I realized someone or
something
was following us. Cam in his grief
and Driscoll, limping along complaining about
battle wounds
, both seemed oblivious to
the danger. Coming to a halt, I tried to listen for a moment to determine the
precise location of the stalker. Just ahead of me Driscoll and Cam each
stopped. Driscoll turned back to me.

"Hurry up, would you Amy,"
Driscoll snapped. "I want to get ice on this ankle before it swells any
further."

"I'm going back for something I
forgot at Fenwick's shop," I announced loudly enough for anyone interested
to hear me. "Go on without me. I'll catch up."

Satisfied, Driscoll continued forward
still muttering complaints. Cam, his head hanging and still clutching his
father's cloak, trudged after him. I dashed in the opposite direction. Would
the stalker elect to come after me? If there were only one he'd have to make a
choice. If there was more than one I'd just left myself, not to mention
Driscoll and Cam, much more vulnerable.

After doubling back a block I darted down
an alley before coming to an immediate halt just around its corner. I peeked
around the brick wall of the building back in the direction from which I'd
come.

Nothing at all moved in the street. But
then something caught my eye. Glancing up, I saw a dark figure standing with
ominous stillness across the street and atop a building on the corner of the
next block. Was the figure staring down at the location just ahead of where I'd
left Driscoll and Cam?

Across from my alley hiding place was a
pub I recognized as one of the most notorious destinations in London: The
Bloody Lion's Head. I'd been in it on several occasions. I wasn't proud of
those occasions but at least my past experience would allow me to know my way
around the building even if it was filled with every conceivable sinister type.

 
Keeping one eye on the rooftop figure, I bolted across the
street. Although the figure hadn't moved, he might attack Driscoll and Cam at
any moment.

I flung open the door of the pub and
hurried into the narrow foyer and came face-to-face with the
"doorman" guarding the entrance: a statue of a man dressed in
butler's garb holding a silver tray with the lifeless head of a
lion—complete with blood leaking from where it had been
severed—sitting on top. The faint, familiar and tempting smell of burning
opiates wafted to me from up the stairs to my right. Beyond, in the pub common
room, was a crowd of patrons. Everyone not on the streets seemed to be here.
Before I could recognize anyone in particular, the doorman statue animated.

"Greetings," the statue spoke,
lips moving with slightly more fluidity than a stone but much less than flesh.
"State your business here."

"Debauchery," I said, pulling
out the only password I remembered.

The lion's head reared up, its mouth
opening to exhibit long and sharp teeth as it roared its disapproval of my
answer. The head struck forward, towards me, chomping. I leaped away, barely
eluding its teeth, and crashed into the now closed entry door. With nowhere to
go I prepared to feel those teeth slicing into my flesh as the head reared back
preparing to strike again.

"It's all right, Linus," a
welcome voice said as a male strolled up, beer in hand. The voice belonged to
Reggie, the owner of this fine establishment. "You can relax. She's my
guest."

The lion subsided and settled back upon
the tray. Puffing and growling before going still and quiet.

"Very good, sir," the doorman
statue intoned. After a brief bow, with a crackling noise, the statue
solidified completely.

"Hello, Amy," Reggie drawled as
he stepped forward. Eyes glowing in a leer, he carefully removed my hood,
pushing it back from my face and settling it at my shoulders. "It's been a
long time."

"Almost
too
long." I inclined my head at
his lion's head statue now quietly at rest again on the platter.

"You're welcome here anytime."
Reggie smirked as he leaned forward and sniffed my hair. "You only need
ask and I would happily tell you
all
my secrets."

"I doubt that."