Nightmare City: Book 1 Of The Nightmare City Series (Urban Fantasy)

by P. S. Newman

  The similarities between the photo and the graphic drawing were obvious, especially when you knew where to look. Sure, graphic novel me wore the most ridiculous outfit; a tight black crop top that showed off deep cleavage and midriff above tight black hot pants and knee-high boots. At least the boots weren’t high-heeled, and I wore lower arm and shin guards to cover my arms and legs. Plus, Elysia’s comic-drawn hair was blond and swung down to the waist.

  In the photo, my hair was dark and didn’t quite touch my shoulders. My shade hunter’s uniform, while tight-fitted, covered my body from wrists to neck and down to my ankles. The differences ended there. My eyes were the same large, bright green in both the photo and the drawing. My lips were full and red. The shape of my body and my stance were similar. And Aunt Vy’s hilt and guard, what you could see of it between my hands, was bright red in both.

  “So you fancy yourself a comic book heroine?” Taylor asked, a rare smile on his smug face.

  It took all the self-restraint I had not to bash the frame over his head. I had to come up with a convincing lie. “I don’t fancy myself anything. It was one of Bella’s private jokes. She loves the comics and noticed that the photo up on my website looks a lot like Elysia Rey from the Dreamscape series. It was just something to make us laugh. Nothing you would understand.”

  I realized I was rambling and shut my mouth. The frown he regarded me with indicated I had to cool it or he would suspect there was more to this ‘private joke’ than my vague explanation. It was a private joke, alright. But not one of Bella’s doing. Somehow, I managed to smile. It probably looked deranged. “I kind of like the comparison. Have you ever read the Dreamscape novels? Elysia is a badass.”

  Taylor’s brows lifted. “No, never read them.”

  Thank God for small favors. I managed to relax a little, though my heart still thrummed too hard and fast in my chest.

  “But why would Baptiste have this here, at his place, with you looking like a nerd’s wet dream?”

  “I think the whole thing was his idea, if I remember correctly,” I told him, improvising. “And Bella must have forgotten it here.”

  “Did she carry it around with her?”

  “No, Bella showed it to us here. David had us over for dinner.”

  He grimaced. “Sounds like fun.”

  “It was. We—”

  To my endless gratitude, a muted beep from the front door interrupted me. The alarm. Four more beeps sounded; someone punching in the security code. Moments later, David entered the living area. Taylor tensed, the smile dropping from his face.

  “Something smells good,” David said, slipping out of his Armani suit jacket as he approached us.

  “Sweet ‘n sour pork.” I put the picture frame down on the counter, as if it were of little consequence, and put the next plate in the microwave. “It’ll be ready by the time Taylor comes back from securing the property.”

  Taylor glared at me but nodded. “Back in five.”

  David looked from me to Taylor’s retreating back. “Did I interrupt something?” he asked when a beep indicated that the door had closed behind Taylor.

  “You could say that.” I picked up the picture frame and slapped it down on the counter in front of him. “Have you seen this before?”

  David blinked down at the two images. His eyes went wide. “What the hell is this?”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s the doppelgänger’s idea of a sick joke. He wanted Taylor to see it.”

  “Did he?”

  “Pulled it right off the shelf over there, from between the other photos.”

  “Shit.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” My heart was still pounding. “He must have planted it the day I found him here. He said that if I didn’t stop hunting him, he’d let Taylor know who I am.”

  “Okay, calm down. Let’s not lose our heads. What did Taylor say?”

  “He’s never read the Dreamscape series. He thought it was… funny.”

  “Okay, we can work with that. Now we just need to get our stories straight. What did you tell him?”

  I explained my half-assed improvisation.

  He relaxed visibly. “That’s not too bad. Now we just have to let Lia and Bella know about this, just in case he asks them about it. Maybe we should—”

  He was interrupted in his speculations by my phone ringing. “It’s Cecelia.”

  “We have a situation,” she said when I answered. “I think we figured out where the doppelgänger has set up shop.”

  “Did you catch him?”

  “No, he isn’t here, but he left us a reception committee. You and Taylor need to get down here, pronto.”

  “Another shade?”

  “That seems the most likely explanation. You need to get down here and eliminate it.”

  “We’re at David's. Can’t you call Ganner and have her send a team over?”

  “Tried that; she said this is your case and she can’t spare another team. You’ll want to see this, anyhow.”

  “What about David?”

  “Bring him. If this is a ploy by the doppelgänger to take another shot at David, he’s safer surrounded by a bunch of cops and shade hunters, anyway.”

  “Fine, we’re on our way. Text me the address?”

  “You got it. Hurry. Oh, and Eden?”

  “What?”

  “You might want to bring your entire arsenal.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  We arrived at the address Cecelia had texted me to find the street locked down. A green barricade with the Order’s logo had been erected across it.

  “Ganner must have sent some of her security crew to secure the area,” I said, bringing the van to a stop in front of the barricade.

  “She better,” David said. “Shades are her jurisdiction after all.”

  The two guards on duty waved Taylor’s green van in front of us through the barricade without stopping him, then headed towards David and me in my not-green vehicle. I stopped and rolled down the window.

  “Ma’am, I’m sorry, we have a shade situation in this street and need to contain it before we can let any civilians pass.”

  “I’m Taylor’s partner on this case.” I showed the guard my private shade hunter license. “My name is Eden Maybrey. Detective Perez asked for Taylor and me specifically.”

  The guard studied my license, then handed it back through the window. He jerked his head towards David in the passenger seat. “Okay, but who’s he?”

  “David Baptiste, pleased to meet you,” David said. When the guard’s eyes widened, he smiled and winked.

  “Why didn’t you say so?” The guard stepped aside and undid the heavy chain rigged between the concrete blocks barring our way. “The Latina detective has you on the list. Nice to meet you.” He waved me through the opening. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks.”

  Thirty seconds later, we reached another barricade, this time of yellow crime-scene tape. Several cop cars stood in front of the tape. Behind it, a lot of people were milling about, keeping their distance from a long, two-story warehouse. Someone had drawn a white chalk line that nobody crossed. Black stains and pieces of something charred littered the ground between the building and the line; similar to skid marks but too muddled and varied to be from tires.

  The building itself was run-down and appeared abandoned. A large, faded logo covered half the side: Meta-Tech. Many of the windows lining the side at regular intervals were broken. On some, even the wide-mesh wire inlaid between the panes had been torn apart, the ripped ends jutting outward like spidery fingers. Something heavy must have flown through those windows with a lot of force.

  I parked my van next to Taylor’s in front of the tape. Taylor was already gearing up. He slipped into a full-body weapons-belt and began accessorizing it with guns, blades, and grenades.

  “Has Cecelia briefed you?” I asked, surveying the insides of my van. I liked to know what I was up against before gearing up. There was a lot to choose from in my arsenal. Bl
ades and firearms of all shapes and sizes hung on the walls. Grenades were sorted by kind in secure drawers. Crates stood on the floor, holding nets, ropes, and other assorted knick-knacks. There was even one with a bazooka inside it, stashed in the way back. I’d never had to use it and hoped I never would.

  “Here she comes,” David said.

  I peeked around the back of the van and was almost run over by my friend, who strode up to us between our vehicles. “Good, you’re here.” She glanced at Taylor and me, then gave David the tiniest of smiles as she indicated the two armed men in police uniform behind her. “These are your bodyguards for the duration of this operation, Mr. Baptiste. Please go with them, so that I know you’re safe. I’m sure the press will be here at any moment, so you might want to stay out of sight.”

  “Sure thing, detective,” David said. He nodded towards the two bodyguards. “Lead the way. Good luck,” he added to me. They disappeared beyond the yellow tape.

  “What’s the situation?” Taylor asked, shotgun in hand, decked out like a militant Christmas tree.

  Cecelia wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. “There’s something in that building. Something big, strong and aggressive.”

  Big, strong, aggressive. That gave me something to work with on the weapons front. “Not the doppelgänger?”

  “No, something else. But we suspect a connection to the doppelgänger because we found out that this building used to be part of a factory that is written in Mrs. Irene Baptiste's name.”

  “David and Sean's mother?” I asked, foregoing the bulletproof vest and going straight for the shoulder holster. No use weighing myself down if there was no chance of bullets heading my way. “She passed away three years ago.”

  “Precisamente. We dug deeper and found out she willed it to Sean after her death. The fact that the building is abandoned made us investigate. Abandoned buildings make for great hide-outs. When we came to check it out, we were greeted by a shade. The Order would classify it as a chimera.”

  Taylor’s eyes lit up as if he’d stumbled upon the secret of life, hidden under his mattress. He patted the shotgun like a pet. “I love me some monsters.”

  I looked at Cecelia. “Was anyone hurt?”

  She nodded. “One of my men was critically injured when we tried to go in. He’s the only one who got a good look, but he was unconscious when we pulled him out. This is not your average chimera, Sergeant Taylor. I’m no Order hunter, but I would categorize it as class C.”

  A monster with extra-dangerous features. Oh goodie. “What are its extras?”

  “Fireballs.”

  Taylor and I blinked at her. “Fireballs?”

  “Great balls of fire that would make Jerry Lee Lewis proud,” she said. “I’ll show you when you’re ready.”

  Fireballs sounded like something the doppelgänger would cook up. I pulled two small fire extinguishers out of a drawer and tossed one to Taylor. “Might want to add one of these to your belt, Sarge.”

  Cecelia eyed them as we clipped them to our belts. “Good thinking, but not sure those will even make a dent - this thing is big.”

  Cecelia led us to the chalk line that had been drawn ten feet in front of the building. Her people stayed well behind it. "The shade gets mad if you get too close," she explained. "Watch." She crossed the line, taking two steps toward the building. A sound rose from inside, something between a howl and a roar. Orange light brightened one of the windows and then a ball of fire crashed through what remained of the glass, shattering it in an explosion of sparks and shards. Cecelia jumped to the side. The flaming glob hit the ground where she had stood. It burst into a million fiery pieces that extinguished one by one as they kept rolling.

  Taylor and I looked at each other. Great balls of fire, indeed.

  "How did you get inside in the first place?" he asked.

  Cecelia, back behind the line, adjusted her blouse. “That didn't happen until about a minute after we breached the premises, like a defense system that was triggered when we entered. We haven't tried to gain access again since we want to avoid the neighborhood going up in flames. A sniper tried to bring it down from long-range, but either the chimera is bulletproof or the shooter missed. He couldn’t get a good vantage point, and the thing kept disappearing behind old factory equipment. We were given the order to wait for the experts." She smiled at Taylor and me. "It's all yours."

  "Have you tried getting in from the opposite side?" Taylor asked.

  “The loading bays are on the other side, but they’re locked down. We’re still trying to find somebody who might have a key. I’m afraid you’ll have to go in from this side.” The door was closed but hung a little lopsided on its hinges. “We forced it open with a battering ram. For some reason, the chimera never tries to come outside.”

  She waved at a group of cops wearing helmets and bulletproof vests that said ‘LAPD’ on the front. They jogged over and stopped in front of us, each of them holding a portable protective shield. They had to be perspiring profusely underneath all that gear. Even at night, there was no reprieve from the LA summer heat.

  “My men will cause a diversion so that the two of you can sneak up close without getting fried,” she told Taylor and me. “Once inside, you’re on your own until you’ve secured the premises. Sorry, we can’t go in with you. I have my orders.” Her reluctance about standing down was palpable. But unless civilian lives were in immediate danger, the LAPD was not to interfere with a Somni Order elimination. The paperwork and battle with the insurance companies would be a nightmare.

  I looked at Taylor. We would have to rely on each other. “Ready?”

  He nodded, a deranged grin splitting his face. “And waiting.”

  Oh joy.

  Cecelia's men positioned themselves along the chalk line. Taylor and I stood at one end, closest to the door. Neither of us had donned a vest or helmet; speed and maneuverability were more important than bulletproof armor when dealing with most chimeras. We did accept the in-ear microphones one of the men handed to us. “That’ll give us an idea of what’s happening inside,” he said. “Holler if you need help.”

  Cecelia gave the signal. “Go!” The man closest to Taylor and me sprinted forward, straight towards the building. With a two-second delay, the next in line followed, then the next. Windows shattered. Fireballs flew. The men ducked, sidestepped, and evaded, heading away from Taylor and me. They drew the chimera’s attention and its fire to the other end of the building.

  Taylor tapped my shoulder. We charged, shields held up in front of us.

  The diversion worked. The fireballs kept hurtling through the air far to our right. The chimera either didn’t see us or couldn’t focus on more than one end of the building at a time. We stopped briefly at the door.

  “Cover me.” Taylor pulled the shotgun from his back with a grin. “Let’s hope that sniper was just a terrible shot.” He pulled open the door. I drew my spare sword and ran inside, Taylor on my heels.

  The first thing to hit us was the heat. It had already been hot outside, but this… this building hadn’t been air-conditioned in a long while. It felt like walking into an oven filled with cotton candy. Sweat immediately beaded on my face.

  The factory was a maze of wreckage. What had once been fully automated assembly lines with giant machines now lay broken and smashed. Charred skid marks like the ones on the ground outside covered everything, even the ceiling. The chimera had been having fun in here with its fireballs, it seemed. At least the debris of broken machinery would offer us some cover as long as we didn’t remain in the wide-open corridor that had been trampled flat along the window front. The one we were now running across as softly as our boots and the metal wreckage on the concrete floor allowed. The one at the other end of which a giant monster stood, spitting fireballs through the broken windows like a dragon with a bad cough.

  It didn’t resemble a dragon, at least not closely. I only caught a glimpse as we crossed the open space because I had to take care not to stumble on b
roken metal. But what I saw looked more like a giant dog than a dragon. A lean, hard-muscled, fire-spitting dog the size of an SUV.

  Just before we reached the cover of a twisted machine at the edge of the corridor, the door clicked shut behind us. The chimera spun towards the sound and caught sight of us. A roar shook the building as Taylor and I leaped behind the broken machine. A fireball exploded on its corner, showering us in chunks of fire. A tremor ran through the concrete ground. The scrunch of giant paws trotting over metal wreckage approached.

  “Strategy?” I whispered. Now that we’d seen what we were up against, it would be good to have one.

  “I shoot and draw its attention. If it’s bulletproof, you sneak up on it with a blade.”

  I nodded, tapping his shotgun with the tip of my sword. “Good luck.”

  He flashed his disturbing grin and disappeared around the machine. He didn’t head straight back into the open corridor but used the cover of the debris to get some distance on the place where the monster had last seen us. I also switched location, inching further around the twisted steel until I was no longer visible from the corridor.

  Heavy paws crunched over protesting metal. A long twisted bar on the ground, just visible around the corner, moved. The machine concealing me shifted. As if something had nudged it. Or stepped on it.

  I heard a snuffling sound. A gust of heat caressed my neck. The hair on my arms stood on end and I looked up - straight at the chimera’s pearly whites, exposed in a demented doggy grin. Taylor would have been envious of that smile.

  I crushed my instinct to scream like a banshee and swung my sword upwards into the creature’s nose. It reared back with a sound more scream than howl. Tongues of flame escaped between fangs the size of my fingers. Its chest began to glow, turning from dark red to bright orange. I drew the Walther PPT. The black hide cracked with white-orange fissures, an image that seemed familiar… The beast looked down at me and puffed up its glowing chest, obliterating every thought in my brain but the most crucial: Shoot!