by Richard Amos
TWENTY-EIGHT
JAKE
I narrowly avoided my face breaking open on a jagged bit of stone.
Fucking knobhead!
I elbowed him in the face, my strike going all the way through soft skull. My God the smell! I wanted to puke my guts up, but that’d give the prick a window of opportunity I sure as frig wasn’t gonna hand over!
Another came at me as I got to my feet. This one was well on its way to being a skeleton, limping over as the last traces of flesh hung from its ribcage. I made short work of it, then grabbed my spear. A woman caught the collar of my jacket and pulled hard, choking me. I took her head off with my smoking weapon.
Bollocks to all of this!
I hurried back to Dean, taking down a knobhead dead bastard before he could hurt my man anymore than he was.
This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.
The crazy dead fuckers kept on coming. I took down another as it clawed at me. Nothing truly shut them down because, even in broken piles, they never stopped moving.
All because of Kyler.
Crappinghellballs!
“I’m getting you out of here,” I told him, the rain washing the blood down his face.
At least he was still awake. “That’d be good, baby.”
I looked at his side. “Oh, crap.” A jagged piece of metal had gone into his lower back. What if it’d hit a kidney? If I tried to pull it out, I could do some serious damage.
Thankfully, there were blue lights at the end of the road, the siren’s louder.
Lars came over, clutching his left arm. He was bleeding, and his face splattered with gore. He stopped a zombie woman as she leapt at him with one brutal punch that took her head off. The body fell, still writhing and trying to get at her prey. With a roar he stamped on her arms and legs until they were a pulpy mess. The torso still trashed, the jaws in her head nearby snapping away.
There was a lot of blood coming from his arm.
I was forced to fight again, twirling my spear. Me and Lars teamed up, protecting Dean, who also protected himself with some powerful kicks which must’ve hurt like fuck to perform.
My beautiful, agile fighting fiancé who never gave up, who always battled on and would always put himself in the firing line for me. Like when the house had blown up. The knob! I’d been mad and grateful and wanted to snog the face off him all at the same time when he’d done that.
No matter what, he was always my hero.
But I was so gonna be his too!
Police officers stormed across the debris, followed by nercos and paramedics. We had an army at our backs, taking on the army of the dead.
Evi was with Lars. She checked his arm then high-kicked a zombie in the face.
Rage. That’s what this was. These crazy dead weren’t out for brains or any of the clichés associated with them. It was all connected to Kyler and his pain. The dead were an extension of his suffering, a release of his internal agony. Or so I was thinking. I mean, with what Thomas had told us, that had to be it. And it was so fucking sad.
He’d tried to kill Dean…
Yeah, remembering that detail after being stuck in a fog of sympathy was really not leaving me fully on the side of hope for this pair. Funny how things can be blown to smithereens with on click.
The police had formed a circle around us, with Mr. Z and Marie joining us along with two paramedics who saw to Lars and Dean.
“This power,” the head necro said, “is out of control.”
“Yeah, you’re telling me.”
“The council soldiers will be here soon,” Evi said. “Then it’ll be over.”
God. It so would. Just like that. Bang! The wand would take them both out. Unless it couldn’t break that windy shield…
“I—”
A collective thump and the wind died off.
“What the hell?”
I pushed through the ring of police. Every single corpse and skeleton was still and as dead and as unmoving as the rules nature dictated, scattered across the street and the sodden ground of the graveyard.
No purple magic in the sky.
I went to the other side of the police ring. Everyone was watching the destroyed house.
The wind shield was gone, the charm too. Kyler was on the ground, his head resting in the lap of a horrifically burned man who stroked his face with charred fingers.
Thomas. No more invisibility.
I walked over brick and bodies until I was only a few feet away.
Kyler’s neck was twisted, broken at a killing angle. His eyes were closed. The paleness and emaciated look of him was chilling. Man, he really was frail as hell, and now dead.
Thomas looked up at me. Within all blackened flesh and the red sores making up his ruined body were a pair of green eyes that shone brightly with sadness. There were even tears cutting down his charcoal cheeks.
Piece by piece, bits of him broke away, crumbling like ash. He didn’t say anything as he watched me, holding the lover he’d just killed to save the city.
A sacrifice not many would make. Couldn’t say I would.
I watched him become nothing but ash, smothering Kyler in black. The rain didn’t take long to wash his remains off the fallen necro, forming a circle of black around the body of the necro like it was Thomas’s final act of protection.
TWO WEEKS LATER
TWENTY-NINE
DEAN
Back on my feet again after the help of Mila’s potions and the love of my fiancé and daughter, I headed into the narrow building with the pink fae sign swinging above it while Jake and Louise waited outside to watch the people skating on the frozen canal.
The snow as back, and the temperate had dropped considerably over the past fortnight. Luckily, it wasn’t as heavy as it’d been before.
I waited in line behind some folk in the fae post office. There were three counters manned by two fae women and a man. I watched the alcoves packed with letters and packages, sealed with glowing pink bars. Every so often, the bars would become one pink screen as they become full of post, and then go dark. A delivery was on its way into my home realm.
It’d taken me three days to write the letter to my dad, mainly because I didn’t want to admit I needed his help. Why would he care anyway? It wasn’t like he was the remotest bit interested in his grandchild. Social standing, parties and women—that was all he cared about. My mother had suffered him for years until she’d finally had the strength to realise she didn’t love him, nor he her, and started her new life in Singapore—my place of birth.
She’d insisted I speak with him, though. She was human, so couldn’t help me with Louise. Only he could.
I missed her and couldn’t wait for her next visit.
At the top of my to do list was now finding the fae woman who’d dared to take my daughter, along with, to a lesser extent, destroying that clay doll master and checking on that fae door in Flevopark. But not today. This was a time for my family and my first day out of the house. A lot of our cases had gone to our rival PIA agencies, but I didn’t care. The Jansens had written to us to say the tomato incident had been sorted. They didn’t have to tell us anything, but they were probably so disgusted by the woman’s pod usage that they were showing a rare display of solidarity.
Good. That was one more danger off the streets.
“Hallo,” the woman greeted me at my turn.
My boots clicked on the polished oak floor as I approached the counter. There were goblins in the post office, hurrying around with parcels and letters, stacking them inside the alcoves. Alive. Not piled up in a rotting mountain. There was still no information about that mass murder, the investigation ongoing. At least Rebus was liaising with us about it all—his closed off policy forgotten. In fact, Jake and I were investigating the property I’d found the goblins in, tracing a complicated line that may end up going nowhere. Still, it was something at least.
“How many I help?” the sun-kissed blonde fae asked.
“I need
to post this.”
“Excellent. Ah, a letter to Lord Tseng.”
“Yes.”
She brought out her wax seal and stamp, marking the top right of the letter with the fae postal max in pink wax.
“One gold, please.”
I handed her the fae coin. Only Faerie currency could pay for post going to that realm. Anywhere that converted currency would fix that.
Usually, fae coins had an image of the king or queen on one side, plus the symbol of the four lands (Winter, Spring, Summer and Autumn) on the other. This was a newly minted coin, without the monarch. Things regarding the royal seat were complicated over there, and the throne was vacant.
I wondered if my dad would make a play for power. Didn’t matter how much of a party animal he was, though I couldn’t see him getting very far. He was too much of a prat.
I didn’t care. That wasn’t my life. Faerie could just get on with itself.
“Thanks,” I said as the woman handed my letter to the goblin.
“You’re welcome.” She smelled of sugar plum.
I nodded and left the post office, stepping out of the way of a busy goblin.
As I stepped outside, chaos erupted.
Screaming, cries of fury.
“Dean!” Jake yelled, Louise in his arms.
I took it in—the people jumping up and down, tripping in the snow as dolls of clay leapt onto their backs, ran inside cafes and shops to bring about disruption.
There he was, on the roof of a building on the other side of the canal. He was laughing as he dolls attacked.
“Fucker!” Jake boomed and crushed one under his foot, a mess of clay spreading across the snow.
“You thought you could defeat me!” the doll master cried like some dodgy villain from a B-movie, “but you will never stop me! No one will! This will be your lives from now on, under the fear of my children!”
His voice was pretty clear from up there. Did he have a built-in megaphone in his voice box? Probably an effect of his transformation from the pod he’d encountered.
“Get Louise inside,” I told Jake. She wasn’t crying, but her face was buried into his shoulder.
Would she use her power again? I didn’t want her to, no matter how useful it would be for her to freeze them all. Because we didn’t understand her gift yet, the less she used it the better. I didn’t want to supress her, but there was no telling if using it would hurt her by doing so. These things could be complicated. I wanted the all clear, and then we could help her. Even if my dad failed to lend a hand, I’d mine every single fae for information until I got what I wanted.
First, this idiot on the roof.
“What are you gonna do?” Jake asked.
“Make sure we get paid.”
Despite the chaos, he smirked and hurried into the fae post office.
“That’s it! Hide! Run!” the master yelled. “I am the king of Amsterdam!”
Dream on…
I darted down the path, taking the second bridge so it looked like I was running away. Had to hope this fool’s ego was big enough for him to think I was fleeing. I booted a clay doll that jumped into my path. It tumbled through the air and smashed across the frozen canal.
Keeping as flush as I could against the row of buildings on the other side of the water, I reached the building the doll master was on top of.
It was a café, full of people. A doll landed on my shoulder, smaller than the others. The terracotta critter went to bite my ear. I grabbed it and crushed it in my hand.
I held my PIA identification up at the window and I was let inside. Voices met me, pleading for me to make it stop, that the way to the roof was locked because the dolls were trying to get in.
I could hear the banging.
“Don’t worry. I’ll fix this.”
I hurried up steep, narrow stairs until I reached the top floor three storeys up. It was a small landing, with nothing but the door to the roof. The banging was louder, the force of it rattling the closed bolt locked across the dark wood.
Even if I’m out doing something as simple as visiting the post office, I always pack a potion or two. Exploders are always good to have to hand.
I placed one of the vials with white liquid in front of the door and stepped back. I took out a pale blue potion and threw it at the exploder as I ran back down the stairs.
BOOM!
Direct hit! I was at a safe distance so the door, blown off its hinges, didn’t crash into me. Half of it slid the stairs past me, along with a stream of water. I kept myself pinned to the wall. Clay dolls were caught up in the water, struggling, moistening. Not good for clay. I stamped on some of them, but left others as I went back up.
The other half of the door was on the landing, crushing some smaller dolls. I made a point to stomp heavily across the broken panel to mush them up.
Beyond the door, on the small stairwell to the roof was the epicentre of the water, a raging ball of liquid that trapped dolls inside, thrashing them around as if they were in a washing machine’s spin cycle. Those that weren’t inside were caught up in the water pouring out of it, or were lingering beyond, waiting.
I manoeuvred past the water ball and charged up the stairs.
The roof was dusted with snow and angry dolls. I kicked and stomped as the doll master ran across the rooftops, trying to get inside each building and failing. He’d gotten three buildings over, surrounded by his dolls.
I ran after him and he screamed.
“You will never defeat me!”
I really liked the effect that potion Mila had used on the Ricci twins. I’d made sure to buy some off her. Another good potion to have on you for these situations.
I didn’t want to blow the doll master up, just stop him and get him off the streets before he actually hurt someone.
He sent some dolls after me, and I leapt over them, crushed them, delivered kicks and punches in a blaze of need to kick arse.
I let the amber potion fly as I got close enough. It smashed and released its cloud all over the doll master.
As soon as it took hold, it was done. The boils erupted over his pale face, and the dolls dropped dead into the inanimate clay figures they were. He ripped off his coat and jumper, exposing his skinny frame, scratching at the boils and wailing for mercy.
“Stopped you,” I said.
He wailed some more.
THIRTY
JAKE
The day after the clay doll crap, I opened a letter as I sat at my desk. Dean had just come back from checking out the fae door with the Gaelic writing on it. Still closed, still giving nothing away about itself.
The damn drilling of the workmen had been driving me crazy all morning, but not now. All noise had been blocked out. My cuppa was helping to soothe me.
I read the handwritten letter.
Dear Jake,
I hope you’re well. I just wanted to say how pleased I was to see that you listened to me about the necromancer and his invisible lover. Spectacular, wasn’t it?
I want to help you out again, because things are getting interesting. I want to up the stakes. You’re right to think there are two of us, me being Parker, and Elijah the other. I’ll let you figure the rest of that out. Hey! Can’t have all the details! I want to leave you a little something to investigate.
It was a shame you weren’t the one to find the dead goblins. That was coming next, but never mind. I’m not disappointed. You can tell Rebus it was me. I killed them. Roberto was going to ruin everything by escaping and heading to tell you everything—how I’d used the trace of your DNA you’d left on my hand when we shook on our first meeting to break your wards, which I know you knew anyway, how I’d wanted to see how you dealt with that exploding man, how I used the goblins to harvest more of you for me to use later, then locked them up to shut them up. I’d had to kill Roberto after he’d fled, then the other prisoners. But that made things more fun. I so wanted you to find them. It wasn’t the same with Dean. Never mind. It was still a fun night d
umping Roberto’s body on your doorstep only to have Thomas show up and murder Sander on your doorstep too! Talk about amazing! I loved watching your reaction in the snow.
Anyway, I’m telling you this because I want to move onto the next stage. There is so much to see from you, and I can’t wait to go on this adventure with you.
You fascinate me, Jake Winter. You have the blood of a goddess.
What else do you have for me to see?
Bye for now,
Parker Smith.
What. The. Fuck.
I wanted to hurl. It was him. He’d killed the goblins. That bastard! That fucking piece of shit! And now…
I wanted to hurl.
“What’s wrong?” Dean asked.
With a trembling hand, I handed him the letter.
His chair scraped back, and he was on his feet. “I’m calling the police right now.”
“He…he’s playing with me. He had…more of me. Fuck. Fuck! What the fuck is he gonna do?”
Dean came by my side. My head rested against his stomach. “We’ll get him, baby. We’ll get both of them.”
Parker Smith. Elijah Hart. Twins after all. No, not quite. He wanted me to figure the rest of that out. What did it mean?
I fascinated him.
What the fuck?
What the fuck!
He’d killed those goblins, had traces of me to do God knew what with.
“It’s all here,” Dean said into his phone, his hand on my head as I wrapped my arms around his waist. “A solid confession.”
Why would he give himself up like that? For fun? All this was one big game?
Dean finished his call and crouched down. “Lars is coming over now.” He cupped my face in his hands. “We’ll get him, baby. I promise.”
“I…he…”
“Jake…”
“I don’t know what to do.”
I really didn’t. Not with the shock pounding me over and over again. I stood and held my fiancé tight, lost in his embrace, taking the knocks of revelation until I could function again. I would think better when the dust settled, and I’d bring a storm to whatever dark corner that fucking prick was lurking in.