The Shadow Rises: A Morgan Rook Supernatural Thriller (The Order of Shadows Book 5)

by Kit Hallows

  “You go to the bar.” Astrid handed me a pouch filled with coins. “And I’ll watch our things. Get a jug of beer and see if they have rooms available.”

  “How many?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light and innocent.

  “Well, I suppose we only need two.” She smiled. “If you're willing to share with Samuel?”

  “I’d rather share with you.”

  “So would I, but we’ve already talked about this. Get the job done, and when it is…” She reached over and placed her hand on my wrist. “it’ll be safer for all of us when you’re… you, and he’s gone.”

  “My other, or Stroud?”

  “Both.” Astrid kissed me slowly on the lips then touched the side of my face and looked as if she might say something soppy, before blurting, “now go and get the bloody beer.”

  The innkeeper had the same snowy white hair and bright red cheeks as the doctor and waddled like a pigeon as he traversed the packed bar and called out to me. “And what can I do for you, young sir?”

  “Your brother recommended the Stupified Crow, so we’ll have a jug of that please. And three rooms if you have them.”

  “Indeed, I can fulfill both requests, but I ask for payment up front from strangers. And that will be thirty two crowns in your case.” He watched as I counted out the coins and piled them on the bar. They were gold and heavy and one side was the profile of a fierce-looking man with a long nose, hooded eyes and a crown, on the other was a circled serpent, surrounded by tiny symbols.“Thank you, kindly,” Waxford said as he took the money, slipping it into his apron pocket before filling a large clay jug with dark black beer. He handed it to me along with three tankards and three keys. “Rooms two, nine, and thirteen. Breakfast’s at dawn and we ask our guests to leave by midday.”

  “We’ll be gone by then.” I thanked him, took the jug and returned to Astrid, smiling as I filled the tankards. She drank a good half before I managed to raise mine to toast her. “Cheers,” I said.

  “Cheers! Here’s to our being home, as well as Stupified Crow. It’s good stuff.”

  “And to killing shades,” I added, before taking a drink. It was good stuff, nutty and dark with a hint of spices I couldn’t name. “I like this place. It seems familiar.”

  “I came here once before,” Astrid said, “not that I remember much of it.”

  “When?”

  “A long time ago. With my father. He was a wine trader. I traveled all over with him.”

  “And your mother too?” I asked.

  “No, she wasn’t around much, but when she was she made sure to teach me how to handle myself.”

  “You remind me of her,” I said, “from what I gleaned during the short time I knew her. And not just her looks, you have her snark and fire too.”

  Astrid smiled, drained her tankard, and topped us up.

  “Where’s your father now?” I asked.

  “He died. He was cut down by brigands when I was too small and weak to do anything about it.”

  “You were there when it happened?”

  Her grin faded as she shook her head.“I didn’t want to leave him… but he forced me to flee. That was the last time I saw him alive.”

  “Were his attackers brought to justice?”

  “Yes. But it took many years to hunt them down. I got six of them, Samuel killed the seventh.” She gave a tight, hard smile and raised her tankard as if toasting someone.

  I glanced over as a young boy added logs to the hearth and stirred the embers with a long black poker. The fire swelled, illuminating Astrid’s face with a soft red and orange glow as I began to piece together why she’d been so guarded and distant when we’d first met, and so eager to mete out hard justice. I was about to ask more when a row at the table next to us grew loud and agitated. And then one of the men said a name, and the mere sound of it sent a shudder down my spine.

  Maladee De’ Nix.

  30

  My thoughts raced back to Copperwood Falls and the demon Sindaub. To the moment, in his strange homeland, where I’d found his hidden heart and slipped a blade into it. I’d entered into a blood pact as he’d died. The agreement had been simple, I’d slay the demon who’d massacred his family, should I ever cross her path, in exchange for safe passage home from his demonic lands. That was when he’d told me her name, Maladee De’ Nix… I turned to the drunken stranger holding court at the table behind us.

  “Excuse me,” I said, cutting his conversation dead and drawing suspicious glances from the people around him. He stared me down with tired, angry eyes. “What?” he slurred. His gaze strayed from me to Astrid, then back but it still held no kindness.

  “That name… Maladee De’ Nix. Where did you hear it?”

  “And you are?” he demanded. They looked like travelers from the mud stains on their clothes and their general uprooted disarray.

  “My name’s Morgan Rook, I’ve been looking for the demon you mentioned.”

  “Why? Are you consorting with her?” His huge fingers tightened on his tankard.

  “No, I just need to find her. Is she close?”

  “I don’t know you from a Japplesprat,” the man said, “ but you’ve the look of an otherworlder, which means you could be in league with those bastard demons for all I know.”

  “Do I look like I’m in league with demons?”

  He gave me a cold hard look. “You most certainly do!”

  “Thank you.” I decided to try another tack. “How much would it cost for you to tell me what I need to know?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Fifty crowns might loosen my tongue. Along with a round of drinks for the table.”

  “Right.” I turned to Astrid, who had been watching the exchange, her gaze perplexed. “I need some money.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said, “we’re here for one purpose, and one purpose only.”

  “I made a deal and I have to honor it.”

  “What deal, with who?” Astrid cast the table a wary look.

  “The demon. I told you and Samuel about him,” I whispered, hoping the big lump behind wouldn’t hear. “Please, I need to pay the man. Once I have, I’ll explain.”

  Astrid pulled a pouch from her pocket and gave it to me, before returning to her beer. I opened the drawstring, took out a handful of coins, counted fifty and placed them by the man’s tankard. I added another ten for what I hoped would cover a round of beers.

  The man counted them, his tongue poking from the side of his mouth like a child coloring in a book. When he spoke, his voice was almost a whisper. “Heathersage. It’s a village a day’s ride south from here. That’s where you’ll find your demon.”

  “You’re sure?”

  He nodded. “But I wouldn’t go there now for any amount of coins. It’s said De’ Nix and her underlings slaughtered every man woman and child they could lay their cursed hands upon. Burnt them alive and roasted their flesh.”

  “Why?”

  “How would I know? But if I was looking to wreak havoc throughout the land then Heathersage would be a good place to strike. It supplies… supplied food all around. Their river brims with fish and the bogs to the east are rich with peat. Plus the forest itself has almost boundless sustenance if you know the old ways, and the people of Heathersage did. At least before the demons came.”

  “How many are there?”

  “How should I know?”

  I shrugged. “Does anyone know what they want?”

  He looked at me as if trying to figure out if I was a simpleton or joker. “Our destruction of course. As if the shade in the south isn’t bringing that on fast enough. That’s why we’re drinking tonight, and every night we can. Feast before the maggots take us all.”

  “Indeed.” I thanked him for the information, and was about to turn away when he seized my arm.

  “Are you really hunting demons?”

  I nodded. “I’m hunting De’ Nix, and any that get in my way.”

  “Then I wish you every scrap of luck a m
an can find.” He picked up half the coins he’d taken and dropped them into my hand, then he turned back to his friends, and when they spoke again, it was in hushed, almost reverent tones.

  Astrid raised an eyebrow as I handed her back the gold. “Care to tell me what the hell that was about?”

  “Do you know how to get to Heathersage?”

  “Yes, but we’re not headed in that direction.”

  “Where are we going, exactly?”

  “You know it’s not safe for us to discuss that.”

  I assumed she was referring to my other and left it there. Instead, I told her of my fight with Sindaub, and the promise I’d made him.

  “I understand, Morgan, I really do. But Stroud’s the reason we’re here, and time's running out.” She seemed like she was about to add something further then she glanced behind me and smiled, and I turned to find Samuel making his way toward us. His limp was less pronounced, he looked like he’d had a bath, and his clothes were fresh and clean.

  “Well that was a harrowing experience,” he said, as he hoisted the remains of the pitcher and drank. “Thanks for abandoning me with that dandy witchdoctor and his little vampire.”

  “The color’s back in your cheeks and you look like you survived.” Astrid smiled.

  “Physically perhaps.” Samuel said, “Psychologically, I’m not so sure.” He glanced around the bar. “Have you eaten?”

  “No, we were waiting for you,” I told him. Which was more or less true.

  “Right.” Samuel looked into the pitcher, shook it and drank down the rest. “Well, we’re going to need a lot more of this and I’m hungry enough to eat a plow horse on nettles, but a boar might suffice.”

  “I’ll trot off to the bar, you rest.” Astrid said as she jumped up and patted him on the back.

  Samuel raised her tankard and knocked it against mine. “Welcome to Penrythe. It’s grubby and gritty, but there’s some mighty fine places to see, if we ever get the time.”

  We drank, ate and then drank some more until the crowd began to thin and the chorus of voices quietened. Finally, we headed for the stairway near the back of the bar. Astrid opened the door and Samuel bustled up one step at a time, but I hesitated as a cold, prickly sensation crept down my spine.

  Someone was watching us. Someone, or something with dark intentions.

  I could feel it as sure as I’d felt the warmth from the fire in the room below. I scanned the gaggle of patrons sitting around the bar, but none seemed to be paying us the slightest scrap of attention.

  Yet someone was watching. I had no doubt of it.

  31

  “Number thirteen. Of course,” I mumbled, closing the door to the closet-sized room behind me. My coat fell in a heap on the lumpy twin mattress as I squeezed past the bedpost and rickety dresser. Even Bastion would have declared the place unfit for a sardine. Still, it might have proven fun if Astrid was here.

  A strange smell hung in the air. It wasn’t horrible, but it was pungent and it curdled oddly with the citric perfume rising from a bowl of silvery flowers and the wood smoke from the small fire in the grate.

  I parted the woolen drapes and took a peek outside. Snow fell through the bare branches of a tree near my narrow window and whirled through the torchlight of the guards patrolling the empty streets. As one started to turn my way I let the curtain fall back into place, unwilling to risk any exchange.

  The feeling of being watched stayed with me, but it wasn’t the guards, it was something else. I tried to chalk it up to my overactive imagination, convincing myself it was in overdrive amid Penrythe’s alien yet oddly familiar charms.

  I undressed and pulled back the dingy quilted blanket. It was stuffed with feathers, most of which seemed to be poking sharply through the fabric. I pulled one out by its quill and held it between my fingers. It was fluffy, warm and a peculiar shade of purple. With a shrug I slipped into the bed. The linens were crisp and smelled fresher than they’d looked. As I lay my head on the worn pillow, I wondered how many people had stopped to rest in this place, and if any had ever come from the blinkered world, or if I was the first. Those were the thoughts that darted like fish through my mind, until I found myself in a dream.

  I was back in the Magical Quarter, standing on the corner of Nightfall and Spytwist Street, staring into a dark, empty store window. Murk and shadows shifted inside, but there was something else there too… I just couldn’t see it. I peered up at the jagged, angular shapes on the shop sign. Slowly they moved, slid together and then apart, adjusting themselves until they read;

  ‘Remember Me’

  “Remember who?” I asked as I glanced around. I could sense someone studying me intently. I cupped my hands to the window. There. A pale smudge of a face at the back of the empty shop. A pair of round black glasses, a tweed cap. A boy… no, not a boy.

  A demon in boy’s clothing.

  He skipped across the shop in a series of jump cuts. Then suddenly, he was right at the window. He leaned in and smiled, before breathing upon the glass and tracing ‘Remember Me’. And then he stepped back into the darkness.

  I woke to a long scratching sound, like claws raking old floorboards. It made me shiver as I sprang up and reached for my sword, with only the meager light from the dying embers in the grate to guide me.

  Then I heard it again, the knocking, it was coming from the window.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  I froze as shadows danced around me, and when I glanced back toward the window, I was a child again, terrified of monsters lurking under the bed.

  My heart raced and my forehead grew clammy. The sword was a dead weight in my faltering hand. I forced myself from my stupor, marched over and yanked back the curtains.

  There was nothing there, no boy, no specters perched in the tree, no menacing owls with light grey feathers and the eyes of Elsbeth Wyght, nothing. Then, as I glanced along the silent cobbled streets below, I spotted a tiny figure in the murk of a shop doorway.

  With a pang of horror, I saw his reflection in the glass. He was right behind me. The boy with the round black glasses.

  Sindaub.

  I whipped around to face him, but there was no one there. I pulled the drapes closed, making sure there wasn’t even the slightest sliver of window exposed, before laying down my sword, and climbing back into the warmth of the bed.

  It took a long time to get back to sleep. There were many false starts as I lingered somewhere between waking and dreaming. When I finally drifted off, it was to a world filled with horrors. Creeping, bulbous spiders seemed to lurk everywhere and faceless children haunted me as I wandered in a town filled with gloomy, desolate streets amid drizzling rain that turned to silverfish. And always that feeling of someone behind me, just out of reach.

  32

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  I opened my eyes expecting the pitch black of night, but daylight leaked in around the edges of the drapes. “Yeah?”

  “It’s me,” Astrid called.

  I answered the door, suddenly self-conscious about wearing nothing but boxer shorts. Astrid glanced me up and down and gave me a warm, amused smile. “And how was your first night in Penrythe? Did you sleep?”

  “Sort of.” I decided to keep my nightmares to myself, at least until I had a chance to think them over and figure out whether they’d been mere phantasms or something more. “You know, I’d kill for a shower, but I’m guessing that’s out the question,” I said, changing the subject.

  “Alone, or with company?”

  “With company, definitely. Is that the custom here?”

  “No, and in any case, you're out of luck on both counts. There’s a washroom of sorts but it would have been best to use it earlier; it looks like a mud bath now. There’s a well in the stable yard though. Warning; the water’s icy but it should revive you, and if it doesn’t then the black roast and hot buttered bread will.”

  “Black roast? Is that-”

  “It’s very much like coffee. It comes from overseas and it
’s expensive, but I think we can splurge on a pot or two before we go. Meet us in the bar when you’re ready.”

  I shivered and crossed the yard after assaulting myself with the slushy well water, glad to get back inside. The dining tables had been set for breakfast and the bar room was muted in the kind of odd morning hush that made me feel the need to whisper. Packs, sacks and bags dotted the room and a few travelers milled around. I spotted Astrid and Samuel at a small table that was close enough to the fire to bring my temperature back up to something close to normal.

  A basket of warm toasted buns sat in the center of the table along with pots of butter and a dark fruity jam that had a flowery aroma I’d never smelt before. It was good, like raspberry, elderflower and rosemary all rolled into one. The black roast was even better, silken and earthy with a punch at least twice the buzz of a standard espresso.

  “Ready to go?” Samuel asked, as he lit his pipe and took a long leisurely draw.

  “Yeah. I guess I am,” I said, “where are we heading?”

  “South,” Samuel said, “chasing the latest sighting of Stroud. But before we get prepared for battle we’ll need to take a slight detour.”

  “Are they expecting us?” Astrid asked.

  Samuel nodded. “I sent word last night before retiring.” He glanced at me. “They’ll take our money. They’ll take anyone’s money.”

  “Care to explain?” I asked.

  “Not right now,” Samuel said, “And I’m sure you know why.”

  Right, I got it. Emeric. Not even I knew what my other might be planning, but after the stunt he’d pulled when I’d first arrived, I had little doubt he’d get worse the closer we got to Stroud. I ate a second bun and downed another mug of black roast, causing my heart to flutter and my mind to light up like an overcharged bulb. Then we trudged out into the cold.