Netherkind

by Greg Chapman

  Bryce followed Niles as he strolled down another corridor, passing 16th Century oil paintings of virgin sacrifices, row after row of leather-bound books emblazoned with Latin script, mirrors that didn’t reflect and even sarcophagi.

  One such coffin—a plain wooden box that would have suited a hanged man—rested on a shelf all on its own, standing out amongst the hollowed-out gold plated coffins of Egyptian emperors. The box’s sheer dullness always seemed to peck holes in Bryce’s tough-guy persona.

  “Help me get that down,” Niles said as he grabbed a step ladder.

  Bryce took hold of one end of the coffin and was surprised by its weightlessness, he feared he would drop it because he knew how valuable it was to Niles and not just in a monetary sense of the word. He and Niles carried it down from the shelf and laid it on the concrete floor like it was a baby.

  “Why the fuck can’t he just take a goddamn plane?” Bryce said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

  “Because he can’t,” Niles told him. The billionaire put the stepladder back and retrieved a crowbar from a rack of tools hanging on a nearby wall. The fluorescent lights caught the edges of an arcane inscription along its handle and Bryce instinctively took a step back as Niles checked his watch.

  “Does yours say two o’clock?” Niles said.

  Bryce looked at his own watch and nodded before taking a deep breath, he swallowed hard as Niles raised the crowbar above his head and slammed it down on the sarcophagus lid—one, two, three.

  The wood didn’t even dent under the force of the blows, but the coffin rang like a bell from the inside out, an echo confined, desperate to be free.

  Niles and Bryce stood like statues, staring at each other, pulses pounding in their throats. Bryce had been present for a number of these summoning rituals now, but it still messed with his head.

  The echo passed, fading within the simple wooden box and for a moment, there was a flicker of disappointment in Niles’s eyes.

  Until—

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  The coffin tolled and shuddered, sending a shockwave through the two men.

  “Christ, I hate it when he does that!” Niles said, looking to Bryce who had his hand on his holster.

  Bryce knew guns didn’t work on voodoo, but he couldn’t help himself. He saw Niles smirk at him and then the billionaire bent down to push the crowbar beneath the edge of the lid. Niles twisted the bar, prying at the wood until finally the lid flew open.

  Tentatively, the pair peered into the coffin’s dark maw.

  Inside the slat wood sarcophagus was a staircase that descended into nothingness. The coffin had become—or always had been—a door to nowhere and everywhere. Bryce saw it and tried to compute its existence. Only the dead would be stupid enough to go in there. Or one very whacked-in-the-fucking-head witch-doctor.

  There must have been one hundred steps going down. At the bottom presumably was Vorn ascending with his prize in tow. Vorn seemed to be able to walk into Hell and back. Bryce thought he knew Hell—the hell of war, of guts and blood and friends being blown apart and killing to survive—until he met Vorn for the first time.

  A shadow appeared on the lowest step then another. Closer and closer, step by step, the shadows came. The slow procession was agony to the soul. Then the light from Niles’s basement began to bathe the figures and Bryce was somewhat grateful to see the shadows belonged to Vorn and his captive, not something worse.

  Niles busied himself, turning away from the impossible doorway to grab two aluminium chairs, one for Vorn, the other for whatever he had managed to capture.

  The footfalls of Vorn and the other figure rang out, louder and closer and finally Vorn’s face emerged over the lip of the wooden coffin. There was a look of mischievousness on the occultist’s face, self-pride too. Bryce imagined Vorn had tasted all seven of the deadly sins at some point in his life.

  “Gentlemen,” Vorn said. “Do I have a treat for you!”

  Vorn stepped out of the coffin and leaned back in to pull his unwilling companion free. There was a black hood over the figure’s head and its hands—pale and cracked on the surface—were bound with barbed wire, no doubt from Vorn’s bag of tricks.

  “Watch your step now,” Vorn told his captive.

  “Fuck you, asshole!” the prisoner replied.

  Vorn steered the prisoner to one of the chairs and bound his hands to the arm rests.

  “Now, if I remove the hood, will you promise to behave?” Vorn was almost polite.

  “Why don’t you untie my hands and I’ll rip you to fucking pieces you cocksucker!”

  Vorn put a hand on the prisoner’s shoulder.

  “Now, please,” Vorn said. “You are a guest in Mr Niles’s home, so you need to show a bit more decorum.” Then his voice stiffened. “Or I will have to hurt you again.”

  The prisoner sat still. Bryce stared at the creature’s hands again, the skin was weeping, as if it was coming loose. Eventually the prisoner nodded in agreement and Vorn removed the hood.

  The fractures in the skin of the creature’s hands were mirrored in its face, as if its face was made of ancient clay. Its eyes were a brilliant hue of gold or amber and only slightly farther apart and larger than those of a human. Its lips were longer too and when it opened its mouth to speak, there were at least twice the number of teeth, all pointed like nails.

  It was only when it turned to glare back at him, that he realized he had been staring at it. The big bounty hunter’s demeanour was betrayed by a shudder of unease.

  “What the fuck are you looking at?” it said. “You wanna fuck or something?”

  Bryce looked to Vorn, as if the occultist was to blame for the creature’s outburst.

  “Ah, Mr Colton,” Vorn said. “It is so good to see you again!”

  “What the fuck is that thing?” Bryce said.

  Niles bent to study the creature more closely. The prisoner narrowed its eyes on the billionaire and licked at its lips.

  “Yeah, Vorn, what is it?”

  “I’m still trying to determine that Niles. I’ve never seen anything quite like it before. The only creature that might even come close would be a vampyrrhic-zombie hybrid.”

  “I ain’t no fucking vampire!” the creature said, spitting at them.

  Vorn sneered. “But what you are is rude and if you continue to behave in this manner then there will be consequences—do you understand?”

  “Go fuck yourself!” the creature said.

  Vorn sighed and turned to Bryce. “Mr Colton, I think it might be time for you to lend me some assistance.”

  The creature turned to look at Bryce, its pupils dilating, voluntarily or involuntarily, Bryce couldn’t be sure.

  “What the fuck is he supposed to do—frighten me?” the creature said. “I eat fuckers like him for breakfast!”

  Niles leaned to whisper in the occultist’s ear.

  “You expect me to keep this foul-mouthed piece of shit? If you don’t tell me what this is, I might just get Bryce to put a bullet in it.”

  Vorn patted Niles on the back. “This creature is beyond your wildest dreams, Niles,” he said. “I found it beneath the city, and I believe it is one of many. I would hazard a guess that this creature is the very definition of man’s animal nature.”

  Niles studied the creature again, he had to admit he was intrigued by its ferociousness. He put out a hand to touch it but thought better of it when it bared its teeth.

  “We’re going to have to muzzle it,” Niles said.

  “Yes, but we’ll still need it to talk,” Vorn said.

  The creature shifted in its chair. “I’m not gonna tell you jack shit!”

  Niles gripped the beast by the throat.

  “Oh, you’ll talk you bastard!”

  Vorn leaned in alongside Niles to leer at the creature, their faces a mirror image of vile determination.

  “Yes, you will talk,” Vorn added. “We’ll try Mr Colton’s way first, but if that fails to rouse you, then we�
�ll turn to mine and then you will be willing to reveal all. It’s your choice, my friend.”

  The creature’s eyes widened in fear. Bryce saw the change and pictured an animal in a cage, desperate and afraid. He knew those creatures were always the most dangerous.

  “So,” Vorn said, finally. “Why don’t you start by telling us your name?”

  13

  Thomas’ thirst for vengeance was palpable.

  When he looked upon Stephanie, he wanted to tear her apart. claw at her perfect flesh, deeper and deeper until she was an empty vessel, a hollowed-out void. There was such hatred manifest in the tremor of his heart, a throb in his loins, a crawling hunger in his gut.

  Yet all Stephanie could do was smile at him, a laceration on her face. Thomas wished he could be free of his bonds and back in that hallway, at his old home, but he wanted to be the Phagun he was now, dangerous, cunning and unafraid. He so wanted a rematch because as he stared at her, he believed he could win.

  “Let him out from under there,” Stephanie said suddenly, still staring down at him with lascivious eyes.

  Her orders were like a slap in the face—to the Skiift and Thomas alike. Glances were exchanged between the red Fleshers, but when Stephanie turned her eyes to them, they appeared mesmerised.

  “Let him go,” she said.

  “You must be mistaken,” Re-Kul said, trying to keep his voice quiet. Thomas could feel the influence Stephanie had over him. Stephanie turned and stood toe-to-toe with the Skiift leader.

  “I’m not joking—let him out from under that shit!”

  Re-Kul’s brow furrowed

  “He is our prisoner,” he said.

  “You haven’t got a damned clue who he is!” she said. “But I know and if you don’t let him go then you’ll soon come to regret it! Now let him go!”

  The other Skiift tried to reason with Re-Kul, but he kept his eyes on the Phagus female.

  “I will free him, but he remains here—in the forest.”

  Stephanie turned back to Thomas, admiring him. Thomas couldn’t believe what was happening. His chance had finally come, to rid himself of his tormentor. His grief and anguish washed away with Stephanie’s blood.

  “Fine,” Stephanie said. “But he stays with me.”

  There was a cacophony of objection, that such a mighty tribe would be forced to bow to a Phagus’ every whim, especially a female. But Thomas knew just how convincing Stephanie could be, how manipulative. Re-Kul began to argue his point to the clan again, but Stephanie silenced them.

  “Leave us!” she said, snarling.

  The Skiift stood stunned.

  “Get out!”

  Re-Kul nodded and forced his kin out. Their arguing carried up the hall for several moments, like ghosts swirling inside the chamber of earth. Eventually, the two enemies were alone, beneath the roots of the great tree.

  Thomas felt the moss atop his body begin to shift and soften. He looked down to see its lush green light wither and fade. The weight of it diminished, he could now move and when he sat up the great heap of dead moss fell to the ground as dust.

  His hateful eyes fell on Stephanie, yet still she smiled at him. The urge jerked Thomas to his feet, and he clenched his fists so tight that his skin burned.

  “Hello lover,” she said.

  “Don’t—” Thomas said, trembling, despising.

  “Don’t what?” she said, stepping closer.

  Thomas’ pores burst with desire on his skin and his claws became erect.

  “Ooh,” she said, tracing the line of cleavage beneath her wafer-thin tunic. “I can smell you. You’re on fire!”

  “Stop it!” Thomas shut his eyes, but he couldn’t block out her voice.

  “Did you miss me? I bet you did. I bet you’ve been thinking about me ever since we parted. Do you remember that day?”

  Thomas’ eyes came open and he could see motes of blood dancing across his field of vision. His view of the world flecked was with blood, as if he was looking at it through the eyes of the urge. He felt himself take tentative steps towards her.

  “Aren’t you going to say anything?” she said. “I just saved you from the Skiift.”

  “How…how can you be here?”

  Stephanie took in her surrounds. “I drop in every now and again. Re-Kul and I go way back. But I don’t want to talk about him—I want to hear more about you. All this—the tribes, the war—it must be a big culture shock for you?”

  Thomas felt light-headed, there was something crawling around inside his skull, trying to take control. His mind was torn between wanting to butcher Stephanie and make her answer his demands.

  “Are you listening to me?” Stephanie said, looking slightly annoyed, but then a realisation hit her. “Oh, you’re giving me the silent treatment. You think that if you ignore me, I’ll go away?” She sat on the ground and crossed her legs. “Well sorry lover—I’m not going anywhere. You see I’ve been waiting a long time to see you again too.”

  Thomas swayed on his feet. “Why?”

  “Like I told those Skiift, you’re important to me.”

  “Important?”

  Stephanie cocked her head to one side, her features softening momentarily.

  “Oh, you’ve not changed at all,” she said. “You’re still the same curious little boy from the apartment. Sure you’ve caught up with what the rest of us Fleshers are meant to do, but it looks like you’re still absorbing more from humans than just flesh.”

  Thomas drew in long breaths, his nostrils flaring. He was poised to strike, but Stephanie seemed nonplussed by his aggression. He remembered how aggressive she’d been back in the apartment, how she’d left him a wrecked man.

  “Or Phagun flesh…” he said.

  “What?” Stephanie said, intrigued.

  “I’m like you now—I eat Phagun flesh too.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah, and your daddy didn’t like it and kicked me out.”

  Stephanie got to her feet, the rage evident in her beautiful face.

  “You’ve met him?”

  “I can see where you get your self-loathing from.”

  Stephanie squared her shoulders at the insult. “Self-loathing—you can talk you bastard! You’re the one who still refuses to accept what he is!”

  “Oh, I know what I am—I am what you made me!”

  Thomas saw Stephanie’s eyes harden, her jaw clenching with pent up rage. It was as if it were a thunder cloud hovering in the space between them, their last encounter about to be reignited.

  “I know you hate me,” she said. “I can see it in your eyes.”

  Stephanie’s gaze pulsed with blood. There was no doubt that she had changed him, and Thomas knew she would only use him as a tool for her own gains. He was just a means to an end to her and that once she was done with him, she’d rip him to shreds.

  “So, what are you going to do now—kill me?” she said.

  Thomas bared his teeth instinct, hunger and absolute anger driving him out of his mind, pushing his very identity down to replace it with the thing he had to become. His flesh screamed for hers—his blood for her blood.

  “Tell me lover,” she said. “What are you going to do to me? Do you want to fuck because I can do that—it was nice last time and your seed kept me going for days.”

  The urge in Thomas suddenly lurched.

  Pregnant—oh, God, she told me she was pregnant.

  Thomas’ gaze fell on Stephanie’s belly. When their eyes met, he knew she realized what he was thinking and smiled.

  “Oh, yeah—I forgot about that,” she said.

  “Where is it?”

  “The baby? Oh, I ate that little bastard!”

  Thomas wanted to retch as shock slapped him in the face. “You what?”

  “I killed it,” she said, as if she was delivering a punch line. “The little freak wasn’t right for me.”

  Thomas seethed. “You’re lying!”

  “Am I?”

  “Where is the
baby?”

  “It’s fucking dead, just forget about it!”

  Thomas reached for her, but she was fast, sliding backwards, her feet scraping the ground.

  “Don’t even think about it!” she said.

  Thomas reached for her again and this time his claws snagged on her tunic. She batted his hand away.

  “I said get back!”

  Thomas snarled. “Are you afraid of me now—what I’ll do to you?”

  Stephanie halted her retreat and pushed Thomas back, the force of her hands jarring his ribs. He staggered but refused to fall.

  “Back off!” Her eyes were now bloodshot with the urge.

  “You are afraid,” Thomas said. “Or do you really want something from me? Why kill the kid then?”

  “Shut up! Shut your mouth!”

  “You didn’t kill it did you?”

  Stephanie lashed out, her talons leaving four crimson slashes across his chest. They launched themselves at each other. The room seemed to vibrate as as Thomas retaliated, jumping and forcing her onto her back. They hit the ground hard and the shockwave had the vines shaking a greenish dust into the air. Thomas leaned down to bite at Stephanie’s face and he saw fear in her eyes for the first time, but the lapse in her resolve was only momentary.

  “You think you’re going to get a piece of me?” Stephanie said as she pushed her claws into his face.

  Thomas screamed as she tore at his cheeks, but he wouldn’t falter, his desire to end her urging him to wrap his fingers around her throat. He saw her fear return in full then—a fear of death.

  “I’m going to fucking kill you, bitch!” Thomas said, hands gripping tighter.

  Stephanie writhed and slashed at his flesh, gouging his neck and arms, until his blood trickled and fell in a shower onto her face. Thomas cried out but the urge numbed any pain. He closed his fingers tighter.