by E M Lacey
“But Adiran wants us to gather the witches. They’re crucial to his plan.”
“We will collect the witches.” Dietrich paused to call for the guard. He waited silently as the guard opened the door. It closed behind them. Warding flared in its wake.
“We need to consult the sorcerer.”
Valera gave Dietrich the stink eye. She despised him but Adiran went nowhere without him. Dietrich was the one who delivered the ring, the envelopes, and the plan to the firm. He arranged contact with him through the ring. He was the only one who knew where he was. Valera needed Adiran’s plan to succeed. It would mean not only wealth and power, but immortality. Besides, she’d already found the perfect outfit to inaugurate the new world order.
Epilogue
The last thing Aurora expected to find in the Nether was a club. The cobblestone trail ended at a large metal door complete with real world graffiti. The vibration from the music tickled her feet and shook the door. She looked behind her. The light in the stones dimmed.
Aurora squared her shoulders, walked up to the door and knocked. The light in the cobblestones had gone dark except for a small patch behind her. She moved closer to the door, leaning in with the insane hope that she would hear someone approach.
The Nether had grown noisy since the Indentured and the Broken had returned. She learned quickly that the Broken didn’t like to sleep. They fought it with grunts and growls, but so far, none of them were awake.
The flickering lights she saw in the distance had died in the trees surrounding the club upon her arrival, now it was dying in the stones beneath her feet. She shifted on the balls of her feet, hoping the movement would revive them. She checked the cobblestones again. The only light from them was under her feet, and that was beginning to fade too. Something skittered off to the right. Her head jerked in its direction. She strained her eyes as she scanned the long shadows.
A not too distant growl drowned out the skittering. One of the Broken was awake and moving in her direction.
Aurora banged on the door in earnest. The music played on and the door remained shut.
“You said I’d find you at the end of the trail!” Aurora screamed at the door.
Heavy footsteps punctuated by a putrid odor turned her around. She searched for something to defend herself with. The area was bare.
The footsteps slowed to a trot. Aurora watched a sizable Broken emerge from the shadows, its bulbous yellow eyes fixed on her. She was powerful in the Nether. It required blood, though she wasn’t sure she’d be able to shed any, considering what she had spilled already.
The Broken’s lip curled, revealing extremely large and very sharp teeth. It dropped down on all fours, its limbs tense as it prepared to attack. She noticed something that made her heart constrict. The tether which bound it to the membranous tree was broken. It was worn, shriveled at the end.
Would she be able to influence it?
Aurora shook her head. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was master to all the Indentured. The thought died when it charged. She spun, banged on the door, and screamed at the top of her lungs.
“Move left,” the voice instructed and Aurora obeyed. In her haste, she tripped over her own two feet, landing in the muck that was the floor of the Nether.
The Broken hit the door hard, sliding down into a heap. It didn’t stay there. It shook itself and targeted her again. It was then the door opened and a man in black slacks, white dress shirt under a blood red vest, and black jacket emerged from the club’s interior. He wore a black hat with an array of bones on it. His face was painted to look like a skull. Black paint surrounded his eyes and nose like the empty craters of a skull. The whites of his eyes seemed to float in the center of the black paint. The white paint ended above his full lips. Between those lips hung a cigar.
A gleam of silver cut through the gloom and the Broken. Aurora stared openmouthed as the strange man pulled the sword from the corpse of the fallen creature. As soon as the blade was free, the Broken burst into a cloud of black ash.
“You!”
The man turned around and graced her with a brilliant smile. He offered her a hand. She took it and he pulled her up.
“Why did it wake up?” She gaped at the pile of black ash.
The man threw his left arm around her shoulder. He lay the ichor stained sword against his right shoulder and steered them toward the club.
“It’s Broken, which means it’s unpredictable.” He stopped just as they crossed the threshold. “What’s broken can’t truly be controlled.” He pointed at his head, tapping his hat. “If da mind ain’t right, it can’t follow.”
He removed his arm and walked ahead of her. Aurora remained in the club’s threshold. The man noticed, stopped, and faced her with a question in his eyes.
“Who are you?”
He grinned big. “I’m yo’ papa.”
“What?”
He held out a hand for her. After a few seconds she took it. He pulled her inside. He threw his arm over her shoulder again, this time he offered her the ichor-soaked sword.
“I don’t want that.”
He persisted, so she took it. She nearly fell over from the sheer weight of it. “You are going to need it.”
“How are you my father?”
The man looked shocked. “Dey don’t teach ya ‘bout the birds and the bees in the human world?”
Aurora made a face. “You know what I mean. Why all the secrecy?”
“Have a drink with me. It gone take a while to fill in all ‘da gaps.” He moved toward a large, gyrating crowd. The music was louder than she liked, but she could hear the man clearly.
“Can I at least get your name?”
The man spun, took off his hat, and bowed deep. “Aurora Dixon, I am Baron LaCroix.” The Baron rose, placing his hat back on his head. He pivoted and moved deeper into the club. Aurora followed.
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About the Author
E.M. Lacey is a Chicago based author of paranormal, horror, and fantasy. She is a big nerd who frequents ComicCons, AnimeCons, binge watches Korean zombie movies and all things horror and sci-fi. She has been writing since the age of ten.
Although she had many interests, writing is her passion. Being exposed to authors like Tananarive Due, Octavia Butler, L.A. Banks, and cutting her teeth on horror greats Stephen King and Dean Koontz fueled her love of horror and all things paranormal.
Ms. Lacey’s writing has been described as delicious, out-of-the-box, and fun. Ms. Lacey hails from Homestead, Florida but resides in Chicago, Illinois. She is working on her next piece.