Shadow Eater, page 14
part #2 of Shadowlands Series
***
We were back on the road, the moon hanging high in the sky and I was grateful for the cover that night provided. I’d had enough of Enchansa and its mind-messing ways.
“What did he say to you exactly?”
“Something about me ripping out his eyes, and then the mirror began to bulge and I smashed it.”
Daemon nodded curtly. His profile was sharp in the moonlight, his eyes flashing silver every time the rays caught them. “That’s all? You sure he didn’t say anything else?”
I shook my head and then stopped. Pretty, hands... “He asked me to show him my pretty hands... Oh, fuck!” The Prince had seen the ink on my hands when I’d smacked the flower.
Daemon muttered something under his breath in a language I didn’t understand, but I got the gist. It was a curse word. “We need to get out of Enchansa. We’re going to head out to the border. We need to move fast. Who knows where else he has planted his eyes.”
We were on flat ground, some kind of lane bordered by shrubs with fields further back. Everything was sitting quietly under the blanket of stars. If we didn’t have to run, I would have loved to have taken a stroll.
Daemon picked up his pace and my trot turned into a half run.
“How far till we exit Enchansa?”
“That copse of trees up ahead.”
The copse looked really far away.
“I miss Calypso.”
Daemon made a snorting sound, and I looked up sharply to catch a glimpse of surprised humour on his face.
Why did it give me the warm fuzzies that I’d made him laugh?
A howl ripped through the air and Daemon leaned over and scooped me off my feet.
“What are you doing?”
“Compensating for the lack of Calypso.” And then he was running. It was like being airborne. My lungs were in my mouth, my brain hiding at the back of my skull as we raced down the lane.
One howl followed another. I peered over Daemon’s shoulder, squinting against the wind in my face to see white creatures running low and fast through the field toward us.
“What are they?”
“Moon Hounds. The Duchess’s lethal pets. If they catch us we’re doomed.”
“In that case, stop talking and run!”
I ducked my head, tucked my body into him to afford him a little more aerodynamics, and prayed to the Mother that the Moon Hounds wouldn’t catch up to us.
Daemon ran and the hounds followed, but eventually their howls receded and Daemon’s pace slowed. We came to a standstill on barren grey land. Behind us in the distance I could still see the shadowy shapes of Enchansa’s glorious trees. It was like a moonlit oasis of greenery in a black and grey desert.
Daemon set me down on the dusty earth and then fell to the ground beside me. His chest rose and fell steadily, but his eyes were closed.
I leaned over him, gnawing on my bottom lip. “Are you okay?” Damn, I guess I was heavier than I thought.
He sat up, rolled to his feet, and held out his hand for me. “We need to keep moving. The Moon Hounds won’t follow us out of Enchansa so we’re safe from the Duchess, but if the Prince knows who you are then he will stop at nothing to get his hands on you.”
I hadn’t known Daemon long, but in the time I had known him we’d been put in some dicey situations and I’d never seen him look more than mildly concerned. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that Daemon was scared.
“He scares you. Why?”
“I like to know my enemy, and I don’t know enough about him. If he takes you I may not be able to find you.”
And this scared him? I stared searchingly into his face, and as if realising the implication of his words, his expression shuttered, and he turned away. “Let’s keep moving.”
Maybe I was reading more into his words than I needed to. Of course he was worried for my safety. He needed to get me safely back to Apocalypse so I could up hold my end of the bargain and eat Shadows.
We began putting as much distance between us and Enchansa as we could. Up ahead there was mountainous terrain and my heart leapt as I recalled Viola’s description of the keep. This was it. I knew it!
I sped up, eager to get there.
Clay, I’m coming. Please be okay.
I refused to contemplate the possibility that he may not be there, that my hunch may be wrong. I had to hold on to the hope that I would find him today.
The grey Shadowlands melted into rock, tinged silver by the moon.
“Stop. We need to wait for sun up,” Daemon said. He parked his butt on the ground, knees up, arms wrapped around them.
“Dammit!” I knew he was right. I took the spot next to him. Viola had mentioned the caverns and chasms and how it was not to be traversed on foot. Another thing I’d failed to consider when planning my daring rescue. I was loathe to bring it up now, recalling how Daemon had reacted when I’d coerced him into accompanying me to Inferna with no plan in mind on how to liberate Bernie, but I knew it was something we needed to discuss.
“Um, you don’t happen to be able to fly do you?” I asked.
“No.”
Shit.
“So, um, do you think we’ll be okay travelling across the rocks and stuff?” I asked.
“We’ll be fine.”
I exhaled. Okay, crisis averted. His confidence was reassuring. We sat in silence watching the sky turn pink then orange then gold, and as the rocky landscape was illuminated it turned from grey to gold. There was a distinct sparkle to it that had me wondering. “Is there gold in the rock?”
Daemon nodded and pulled himself to his feet. “Dragons and gold are inseparable.” He crouched. “Get on my back.”
For a moment I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly. “What?”
“Get. On. My. Back.”
I scrambled up and he straightened.
“Wrap your legs around me.”
What an invitation. I did as instructed.
“Now, hold on. Tight.”
I had barely wrapped my arms around him when he rushed toward the rocks, and then we were leaping, or he was leaping with me clinging to his back like a monkey, mouth hanging open in horror as I stared at the ten foot drop below us. Daemon landed easily on the other side and then almost immediately launched into another pre-jump sprint.
Hold on tight, don’t look down. Hold on. Don’t look. I tucked my head in and prayed to the Mother to deliver us from possible death.
Man, how many drops were there? Had Clay tried to escape? Had he fallen into one?
“Hold on,” Daemon said.
“I bloody am!”
And then we were falling.
I looked up and screamed as we plummeted into a chasm but we only got a few feet in before we stopped. I stared at Daemon’s hand gripping a notch in the rock face as we just dangled there, suspended in a fucking chasm. A shadow passed over and I looked up to see the belly of a very large reptile fly over us.
A dragon.
Daemon’s drop made sense now.
“Hold on,” he said again, and then he was climbing up out and out onto solid land.
Daemon set me on my feet and I scanned the landscape; barren, desolate, and sparkly. Where could Clay be hiding? There was nowhere to hide. My stomach dropped. I’d told myself the dragon that had flown off with him had been friendly, based on what the Shadowlander who had paraded as Ryder had said. What if he’d been lying? What if Clay had been taken against his will? What if Clay had been food?
“Where could he be?” I started out across the rocks, panic a white furnace in my chest.
He had to be alive.
“We should check the hoard.”
“The what?”
“The hoard. It’s where they keep their stock.”
“Stock as in, what?” Mother, please don’t say—
“Food.”
That. Ice flooded my veins. “Where is it?”
“The hoard will be at the centre of the keep. It will be in the deepest cavern.”
“Can you get us down into it? Can you get us out?” I hated how reliant I was on him. I hated that my plan had so many flaws. I mean, how the hell would Ryder and I have made it across those drops? I hated that I needed Daemon so much, because I knew this was the last place he wanted to be, and for some reason that bugged me.
“Yes,” Daemon said. “But you need to give me your word that you will not fall apart, no matter what we may find.”
He wanted to make sure I didn’t have a breakdown if Clay was... was dead. I couldn’t promise that, so I lied and nodded.
Daemon regarded me speculatively and then sighed. A gust of air stung my face.
Daemon grabbed my hand. “The dragon is doubling back, we need to take cover.”
The beat of massive wings filled the air.
We ran.
EM
Em’s ribs had almost healed, but the sprains had completely healed. She would be on active duty soon enough, but until then they’d put her on surveillance duty, watching monitors without audio, ensuring Haven ran smoothly.
It was a huge structure, partially underground, and surrounded by miles of fencing and hidden surveillance cameras. Em could see as far as two miles away, not that there was anything to see. It was desert land out there; hot, arid, desert land. That’s where Valance had found her and Pop when she’d been a toddler. When the world had gone to shit and reality had folded in on itself, her world had collided with this hidden stronghold. Back in the day the United States of America had denied its existence, but when the veil came down it was this closely guarded secret that had saved so many. The population was around a thousand, and each person had a purpose. They came from all sorts of backgrounds, all nationalities. It was as if, when the fabric of their world had crumpled they had somehow been drawn here, to this focal point. Em had grown up alongside French, Australian, Indian, and even some Europeans. Haven was a place for all... all those that followed the rules.
Yeah, if you followed the rules life was pretty sweet. If not, well, then you got the long sleep. There was no room for dissidence, not in a community with such a fragile balance. People like Pop were an exception. Prized for their expertise and allowed a little wiggle-room. Speaking of Pop, he’d been sequestered in his basement lab for over a week now, and her questions were still burning a hole in her head.
“Parker? You listening?”
Em tuned back into the buzz around her. Gary was leaning across from his bank of monitors “Sorry, zoned out for a sec.”
“Yeah, it happens. I was saying to Steve that there’s been a lot of activity at basement level the last few days. You know anything about that?”
She sat up straighter. “Why would I know?”
Gary rolled his eyes. “Your dad has his lab there, right? So what’s the scoop?”
“Pop doesn’t share his work with me.” She rolled her chair closer to Gary’s anyway, scanning his bank of monitors. Her stomach felt suddenly queasy.
Gary slumped back in his seat. “Man I’d kill to know what goes on behind that door.” He tapped his screen. Em focused on the screen that showed a metal door with a hazard sign on it.
Pop’s domain.
“You’re seriously telling me you’ve never been down there?” Steve said. He was fiddling with the radio, headphones half off, emitting a steady static. He had the worst job, trying to locate other pockets. He’d been at it for over a year with no joy, and still Valance insisted they keep trying.
Em shrugged. “I’m not into the science stuff.”
“But you’ll be using it, right, the tech they’re building with the info they’ve gathered off the Shadowfuckers?” Gary said with a lip curl. He was older than Em by five years. He remembered the invasion. He remembered the death.
“Yeah, I’ll be using it to blow the bastards to smithereens.”
Gary held up a hand for a high five and Em reacted, slapping his hand with hers.
If they’d had the numbers, they’d have done it a lot quicker, but a thousand civilians and an army of less than two-hundred would do little against a dark world of monsters. They had the tech, the weapons, but not the manpower.
Not that Valance hadn’t tried.
Five years ago, service had been compulsory from the age of fifteen for both men and women, but ninety-eight deaths in the line of duty had forced him to re-think his methods. Now only the most highly trained, capable officers went on trank and bag missions. They had enough food to last another decade or so, but not the time. A shrinking pocket of reality was a ticking time bomb.
She moved back to her bank of screens, ignoring the twinge in her belly, preparing herself for another hour or so of the mundane, when Gary sat up in his seat.
“Shit, Em!”
Em rolled her chair back over just in time to see an officer manhandling Pop down the corridor that led away from the metal door.
She was on her feet and headed to the door before she could think it through.
“Em, you can’t get involved!” Steve called out.
She knew what he meant. Nothing occurred without Valance’s say so, but this was her Pop. “The hell I can’t.”
CLAY
Watching the scenery beyond his room, he saw the transition in the sky. The dark clouds took full control and a heavy rain began to fall.
It tapped on the window as his mind whirred, desperate for a nugget of an idea—anything to aid in his quest for freedom.
Just ask Jiva. You’re not a prisoner. He said so himself. Just say you’re done, danger, or no. You’ll be safe on Pearl. Just insist he let you leave.
But there was a part of him that was wary of pushing the Saularian. What if he pushed and found out the truth—that he really was a prisoner?
There was something moving in the distance, a dark shape through the streams of water. It was to the west where the mountains were. He pushed his face to the glass, condensation blooming and obscuring his vision. Changing position, he held his breath.
The shape came together, winged and black and furry. He’d seen pictures of such a creature. Like many creatures of his world, they were now extinct.
But not here.
Bats, millions of them, flying up and filling the sky with darkness. A terrible screeching sound scratched at the inside of his skull, and then they were surging toward the building in a wave of darkness.
Clay stumbled back as the first attack hit and building shook with its force.
The glass was strong, he’d felt it, sensed it.
The black wave reared back, readying itself for another attack.
Clay made a dash for the door, but a glance over his shoulder told him he wouldn’t make it. As the wave hurtled toward him he made a split-second decision and dove to the right, rolling into the bathroom as glass shattered. He slammed the door, but it burst open almost immediately, snapping in half as the room shook with a boom. Clay covered his head as the shower cubicle collapsed in a millions shards, water bursting from a ruined pipe.
Wind howled, rain riding it. The sirens screamed.
He slowly got to his feet, his bones rattled by the impact of the assault. Outside of the bathroom was chaos. There was a huge hole where the window had been, glass all over the floor. Above him, wires that had been hidden sparked and fizzed, pipes leaked more water. The door had been obliterated, as had a room opposite his. The black wave had pulled back and hovered as if waiting for further instruction.
Cautious of the blanket of glass crunching under his boots, Clay made his way out of the room and into the corridor.
Lights flickered and gleamed off more glass spread down the corridor.
The ‘T’ of The Hammer was above him. The lift was at the end of the right branch. He’d need to operate it to get down to the place with the desk. From there he could cross the fish bridge to the other tower.
Clay ran down the corridor. He pushed the unlit button on the panel.
Nothing happened.
He pushed again.
Nothing.
He pushed it over and over in a frantic rhythm, trying to bring it to life.
It was dead.
With a curse, he headed back in the opposite direction.
At the end of the corridor were a stairwell and a lift. He had a choice to make. Both methods of transport could lead to his death if the wave hit again.
Boom!
The ground shook violently. There’d been a hit on the floor below.
Boom!
Another, less audible strike, though still felt in the soles of his feet.
Shit! Which way? Up or down, lift or stairs? Going down didn’t seem that appealing, but neither did going up. He pushed the button on the panel, this one lit, and he heard the mechanism come to life.
The lift car slid in to view, carrying with it a passenger.
Clay’s eyes widened when he saw the creature. It was small, no more than three feet in height, covered in grey skin. Its eyes blazed yellow and it pointed, with a stick in its hand. The creature saw him and whacked the glass just as the lift came to a halt.
Imp? “Oh, shit…”
He turned and made a dash for the stairway just as the lift pinged…
He slammed the door behind him. The creature crashed into it, started to hammer and shriek in frustration.
Clay took the stairs two at a time, the hammering reverberating through the stairwell. The stairs were metal and clanged with his steps, but were good to retain a grip. If they’d been glass, he’d have fallen on his arse.
The rain fell heavy, blurring the outside as he made his way down, passing closed door after closed door.
The hammering had stopped.
He paused before a door. His fists clenched, his breathing heavy, he didn’t know what to do. He was conscious of the fact that he was on the opposite side of the building. However, the ‘T’ spread over the top. He could make his way back up, but that would mean passing that imp thing again. There had been stairs going up, but he’d run as his survival instinct had kicked in. He should have gone up.
There was no time for hindsight. He could try going through the door before him and cut across to the other side of The Hammer and try to find an alternative way to the fish bridge, or any other bridge. That was it! There must be other bridges to the circular tower. A tower of that size would not be served by the one, Clay reasoned.
