by Kit Hallows
The Shadow Rises
Kit Hallows
THE SHADOW RISES
By Kit Hallows
Copyright © 2018 by Kit Hallows. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.
Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.
Dark Covenant
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To Dennis, a great friend whose spirit was so much larger than life. And to everyone who has followed Morgan on his adventures this far, thank you.
1
Snowflakes swirled like volcanic ash through the dark evening sky. They looked grey and intricate as they drifted down in the late November moonlight. It seemed winter had arrived early.
I fastened my coat and blew a warming breath into my hands as I glanced from the slow, frigid lapping waves along the shoreline to the silent, empty dockyard. “Where are you Dauple?” I muttered, wincing as the breeze stirred up another fetid whiff of fermenting seaweed and dead fish.
It had been less than an hour since he'd called, pleading with me urgently to meet him in this forlorn corner of the city. I’d already had important plans but I’d never known him to ask for help, not if it wasn't truly serious. His voice had been riddled with fear and desperation yet something in the way he’d spoken had almost made each word sound as if he’d been reading it from a script. “What’s the problem?” I’d asked. He’d muttered something about a demon and the phone went dead.
As I stood alone, waiting in the dark along the eerie, desolate beach, I wished I’d taken Samuel up on his offer to come with me.
We’d been planning on meeting Astrid as she left the care of the witches. Then I got the call. Making sure at least one of us was there for her had seemed far more important, and if I could have figured out a way to have been there myself, that one of us would have been me. But at least I'd been able to speak with her for a few moments the night before. It had been great to hear her voice and she’d assured me she’d fully recovered from Stroud’s vicious curse, much to my relief.
A growl issued from the gloom, breaking my thoughts, followed by a clatter like falling tin cans. As I walked toward the din, a starved, mangy dog ran past me and vanished into the murk. A false alarm.
I trusted Dauple implicitly, but something about this situation was beginning to feel very wrong. Like I’d walked into a trap… I shivered and blew another fleetingly warm breath into my hands. A slow wave broke upon the shore and I turned back to regard the old pier where Dauple had told me he’d be. I’d already checked it for signs of him, but there’d been nothing definitive. No bodies, no signs of a struggle, just the slow, relentless lap of the tide and a nagging sense that Dauple had gotten himself into some serious trouble. I pulled my gun and checked the chamber, as if the round might have somehow magically vanished since I’d last looked. It hadn’t, it was locked and loaded, and my sword was still secured under my coat.
So why did I feel so strangely vulnerable?
“Come on, Dauple,” I whispered as I turned back and headed toward the dry dock. As I made my way up the beach, the rusted remains of a fishing boat towered overhead and I took care to avoid the tangled nets strewn among the abandoned anchor and engine parts.
Thud.
The echoing din came from the vast gloomy structure in the boatyard ahead, and was followed by a rattle of chains, and a voice crying out, its tone high and strained.
I dashed through the narrow path between the rows of dilapidated vessels stowed in the dry dock, moving as silently as I could.
When I’d checked the tall hangar-like structure earlier, it had clearly been locked down for the winter, but I paused as a flash of light came through the high barred windows on one side of the building.
Someone was in there.
I tried to call Dauple but his phone went straight to voicemail.
Clunk.
Something shifted behind me and I spun around, my breath frosting the night air and obscuring my view.
Was someone lurking by the skeletal remains of the old trawler? No, just a trick of the shadows and snowfall.
I turned back to the building and checked the doors. They were still locked. I pulled a crystal from my bag and dissolved the locks to rust. Pushing the door open, I swept my gun to the corners before stepping inside. The place was crammed full of boats, their silhouettes gave the place the air of a maritime graveyard, adding to the already sinister atmosphere.
“No!”
I glanced up, and followed the voice until it was abruptly cut off.
A gleam flashed in the murk above, like a small pair of flashlights held close together, but it was far too intense to have been powered by any battery. I inched forward, checking the floor for obstacles, my gun held before me. Then I paused as another muffled cry rang out, followed by a groan that very much sounded like Dauple.
Someone whispered, their voice a low, insidious hiss. It put me in mind of… rattlesnakes.
A metal staircase at the end of the hangar led up to a narrow platform that ran around the circumference of the place and there… two silhouettes, one crooked and hunched over, the other tall with fiery glowing eyes…
Rhymes.
I swept my gun up but eased my finger away from the trigger. I couldn’t shoot, not without the risk of hitting Dauple. I had to lead Rhymes away from him.
“You've kidnapped the mortician, Rhymes? What are you after?” I called, my voice echoing in the emptiness as I glanced back to make sure there weren’t any other agents concealed in the darkness.
“Just you, Morgan,” Rhymes called with a soft hiss. He sounded at ease, happy even, as if he was about to tell me some good news. “Show yourself.”
“No. Not until you let Dauple go.”
“Why would I give him up?” Rhymes asked, his voice almost playful.
“Because he’s one of us.”
“Is that so?” Rhymes asked. His voice was worryingly close, even though he hadn’t moved. “Do you know, I’m not so certain he is. You see there’s been a bit of a shake-up within the Organization. New blood to replace the old after our cull of those who were loyal to compromised elements, like your friend Erland Underwood. And of course rogue agents, such as yourself. You do realize you’re still wanted for the murder of that poor old man, don’t you?”
I kept my silence as I moved through the gloom and ducked behind the ruins of a trawler for cover.
“Why have you gone so quiet, Rook?” Rhymes asked, “Are you trying to sneak up on me?” He laughed. “I’d advise against it if you want to see your friend again.”
Dauple’s scream was unhindered now. “Please…” he cried, and then his voice was cut off.
“I asked you politely, Morgan,” Rhymes called. “Don’t test my patience.”
“Come on down, I'm happy to talk,” I said. I was close enough to the stairway to see the obscured glow of Rhymes’ eyes from below his customary shades and wide-brimmed hat. He chuckled and lifted his glasses to shed some light on Dauple’s bruised and bloodied face.
“Run, Morgan!” Dauple cried. “Go!” Then he whimpered as Rhymes poked a black gloved finger into his throat.
“Hush, you silly
little corpse disturber,” Rhymes hissed. As he turned back toward me shadows danced across his face, unaffected by the blazing light of his eyes. He smiled, revealing stark white teeth. “This was fun, but I’m beginning to find myself growing irritable, Morgan. Reveal yourself before I bite off your friend’s hooked nose and force him to eat it.”
I stepped out from behind the trawler and Rhymes reached into his long coat faster than a striking snake, sweeping his revolver my way. With a flash, gunfire roared in the gloom and I heard the bullet’s piercing whine just before it hit me.
2
I stumbled back into the boat as the round struck my chest. My coat absorbed most of the impact, but it still hurt like hell. Then Rhymes’ gun roared again as I dove behind another boat.
Bright light from a handful of crystals filled the gloom as I consumed their power and fragments of wood flew past my face as another bullet splintered the hull.
I forced myself to slow my breath and focus. In one swift motion I swept around the bow, zeroed in on the light of Rhymes’ eyes and took aim. My bullet clipped his arm. He cried out, dropping his gun. It clanked along the metal landing and fell to the ground with a thud. Rhymes recovered fast and loped toward Dauple who was trying to shuffle away.
“No, no, no,” Rhymes said as he snatched Dauple up, spun him around and stepped behind him, using him as a shield. The light of his eyes lit Dauple’s harried face as Rhymes grinned down at me. “Another shot, Morgan? Go on. Who knows, you might get lucky.”
I shook my head and ran across the hangar, scooping up Rhymes’ gun as I went. I realized my error as the temperature dropped and the world around me darkened far more than it should have. The gloom rumbled and darkness crawled at the edge of my vision. I spun around.
Rhymes loomed, right before my eyes, his teeth blazing in a sick white, psychotic grin. He swept a gloved hand toward me and a flash of silver caught me off guard.
I jumped away as his flick-knife caught the fabric of my coat, causing it to crackle and flash with blue light.
“Ah,” Rhymes said, as he stepped back and tensed to pounce again. “I’ve heard tell of your magical coat. What a wondrous gift!” He removed his sunglasses, dousing me in a blinding glare as he prepared to strike. I fired, but the bullet ricocheted in the distance.
I threw a punch. It connected with cold, taut flesh. Rhymes groaned, and I heard the scuffle of his shoes as he leaped toward me. I clasped my hand over my face, shielding myself from the glow and fired again. This time he cried out and his eyes flickered like bulbs on a faulty circuit. Before I could shoot again, he grabbed my hand and twisted. My gun clattered to the floor. I stumbled back, pulled the sword of intention and held it between us.
Rhymes clasped a hand to his side, his fingers slick with green-grey ichor.
I leaped forward, taking a stab at his heart but he evaded me and seized my wrist. He lunged fast, trying to bite my face. I head-butted him, wriggled free and hobbled out of reach.
Rhymes’ eyes grew brighter. He stared, his gaze loitering at my chest.
A whiff of smoke filled my nostrils. I looked down. The smoldering glow of his eyes was focused, right where my heart was. I brought my blade up flat and gave it a refining twist, reflecting the fiery light right back at him.
Rhymes howled and blundered back. I closed the distance between us and lunged. The sword tore through his chest. He grabbed my hand and held the blade steady. His eyes were dimmer now, and instead of flinching away from his gaze I began to absorb the powers he had hidden within.
Snapshots of his life appeared in my mind…
The squalid apartment in which he’d been brought up, as a stranger in an alien world. The cry of his mother’s voice. She was a bent, broken blinkered woman, and his father a demon, scales and all. I caught glimpses of the abuse Rhymes had endured as a child, spurred by his father’s refusal to accept his half blinkered bloodline. The cruel games, the casual sadism, the beatings so routine and consistent they almost became mundane.
Until the night his demonic father had gone too far and finally broke whatever humanity Rhymes had had left within him. And after the torrent of mad fiery fury had consumed Rhymes’ soul, it had burst forth from his eyes as he’d slaughtered his parents, daubing the walls with their remains.
I broke his gaze as I continued to drain away his powers.
“You’re stealing my essence,” Rhymes said. His eyes flickered again. “How?”
“It’s my new party trick,” I said. “Like it?”
“No one does that,” Rhymes stepped away and retreated to the shadows. “No one.”
“Seems I do,” I said. A flash of sadism surged through me as his eldritch power coursed through my veins, teeming alongside the darkness I’d stolen from Stroud and Talamos Gin. I felt my other shiver. The sensation was exquisite, I almost enjoyed his discomfort as much as the growing terror on Rhymes’ face. And to think, I'd actually feared this demon once, not so long ago.
The gloom began to build around Rhymes. It was a darkness that could not legitimately exist, not in this world. I summoned the magic racing through me and cast it, forming black flames that danced upon my palms, drawing Rhymes’ gaze. “That’s right,” I said. “I’m going to show you some real power.”
The darkness surrounding him drew in, swaddling his form like a blanket. He was about to move, and fast.
I hurled the fireballs.
One raced by his head, roaring into the yawning gloom. The other streamed toward his face. He threw up a hand and screamed as the flames struck his gloved palm and caught the side of his face alight.
He cried out, uttering words of power as he began to fade into the darkness that drew around him, spinning faster and faster, like a whirlwind. It formed a shadowy column, still alight with black flames, as it rose up and settled upon the platform above. Right next to Dauple.
Dauple’s eyes grew wide as he watched the spinning black pillar spit out Rhymes.
He staggered along the platform, as the devil clutched one hand to the wound in his side and fumbled inside his coat with the other.
I ran, taking the stairs two at a time, reaching the platform as Rhymes lurched toward Dauple, knife in hand. Before I could close the gap, he seized Dauple and held the blade to his throat. “Stop, Rook,” Rhymes growled, “stay back.”
“You hurt him, and I’ll eviscerate you and everything you hold dear,” I promised. “Let him go. Now!”
Before I could move, Dauple began to squirm. Rhymes clasped him harder, but Dauple’s hand struck the wound in his side, causing the half-demon to scream with agony. He released Dauple and his pointed white teeth gritted in pain, but as Dauple staggered across the platform, Rhymes brought up the glinting knife clutched in his black gloved fingers.
Before I could move he threw it, and I could only watch as the blade spun around and around, handle to tip, tip to handle in a grim shimmering circle.
Thunk!
It hit Dauple square in the back. He froze before he fell, and gave a strangled gasp that vanished into the gloom.
3
Rhymes grinned at me as he clutched his wound and shuffled back toward the wall. Then the darkness enveloped him, and he was gone.
I ran to where Dauple lay, the bloody knife protruding from his back. His hands were sprawled before him, gripping the platform as if it were dear life itself.
“Hold still.” I clasped the hilt and carefully, slowly, drew it out. I examined the blade for inscriptions, runes or hexes. It seemed to be a normal weapon, except for a slight discoloration of the metal, which suggested it could have been tainted with some kind of toxin.
I set the weapon down, pulled back Dauple’s coat and ripped open the hole in his shirt, revealing the wound. My medical knowledge was limited but it seemed clear, by the spasms passing through his body, that his injury was serious. Very serious.
He groaned as I delved into my bag and pulled out a vial of healing water. I poured it over the wound and tried to bandage
him up. He cried out as the cloth touched his flesh and his fingers gripped the metal struts. “No good,” he said. He grimaced and turned onto his side before I could stop him. “Poisoned. Maybe Cyamorth. The wound's mortal.” His teeth were stained with blood as he added, “I’ve seen it before.”
“I’m not going to let this happen…”
Dauple shook then convulsed with such force he flipped onto his back. His eyes grew wide as he stared up at the ceiling. “Not long,” he said.
“I…” I gripped his hand and fought back my tears. Despite his strangeness and grotesquerie, he’d been one of the few people in the Organization who had been loyal. And while he was mildly insane and undeniably odd, he was my friend. I wasn’t going to give up on him.
He was dying. That was as clear as day, and I didn’t have a cure but a thought, a memory, shot through my mind. The dealer from Copperwood Falls, the one I’d pursued into death’s domain. “I saved someone before,” I said. “I can do it again. But… I don’t have any black crystals.”
Dauple gave a bittersweet smile. “I do.”
“Really?” I asked. “You said you were addicted. I thought you’d quit?”
“Yeah. I… carry one to remind myself that I have power over it. That they don’t rule me.”
“Where?”
“Chest pocket. Close to my heart.” Dauple grinned but his eyes were beginning to roll back. He was fading fast.
I reached into my bag and grabbed a handful of crystals and used their energy to cast a protective spell around, in case Rhymes returned. Motes of golden light shimmered in the surrounding air as the shield manifested. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do.
My hands were shaking. I took a slow, deep breath as my prior, nightmarish experience with the black crystals leapt to the forefront of my mind. Forcing my apprehension aside I reached into Dauple’s shirt pocket. He shuddered, coughed and squirmed but I found it; a small leather pouch, bound with an enchantment to seal in the dark magic. Its embroidered inscription read: