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

by Kit Hallows

  De’ Nix nodded to the jackal demon and he swung his sword in a fast arc. The blade struck my back with enough force to send me crashing to the floor.

  I barely had time to stagger to my feet as the golden demon took a wide swing that missed me. Just.

  The two began to pace around me, just as they had Miller. I glanced toward the poor bastard as he watched from the side of the makeshift arena. He was hanging on by a thinning thread that wasn’t going to last long.

  I took a deep breath and focused on my opponents. They were accomplished killers, I could see that by their stance and the way they handled their weapons. But clearly they worked as a pair, which meant if I could take one down…

  The jackal sprang and almost buried his sword in my groin. He laughed as he leaped away and my defensive swipe missed. Before I could move, the golden demon rushed me, swinging his sword as he came.

  Block! I barely stopped the blow. Our swords clashed and a deep burning pain ran up my arm. I staggered back as the two demons circled; the jackal inching behind me as the golden demon positioned himself so the firelight gleamed off his armor-flesh, temporarily blinding me.

  I needed magic, and fast. I spun around, parrying the jackal’s stab at my back. He spat in my face and I walked away fast, wiping it off, mindful his partner was about to attack.

  The golden demon's sword reflected the firelight as it hurtled toward me. I smashed it out of my path, but before I could bring my sword back up, the bastard charged.

  He hit me hard. I landed on my back with his huge eye boring into mine, his bloody mouth wide, his teeth as cruel as shards of glass. He lifted his great golden fist to pummel my head, but I seized his wrist and stayed his arm for a moment as I twisted out of its path.

  The jackal ran at us from the side, twirling his sword like a cane, his laugher animalistic and hard as he watched his partner fight to pin my arms to the ground and nod for him to make the kill.

  I watched in frozen horror as the jackal steadied the blade over my face and prepared to bring it down…

  … his eyes widened in shock as a shard of metal glinted through his chest. Blood sprayed in a steady stream, dousing us in gore. The jackal wheeled around as the blade vanished and I saw Thomas standing behind him, his face harried, his gaze wild.

  The golden demon roared, his glare on Thomas. I snatched my right hand from his grip and punched him fast in the eye. He cried out, the sound like wrenched, squealing machinery, and blinked rapidly. I head butted him and shoved him back, before stumbling to my feet.

  I ran to recover the sword of intention as the wounded jackal lurched after Thomas and the golden demon leaped to his feet, still blinking. Before he could recover, I drove the sword through his eye. He yowled and gnashed his teeth as blood and goo spilt from the wound. Then he crashed to his knees and I seized his hand, leeching the essence that remained inside him.

  The dark magic overwhelmed my senses like a drug as it coursed through my veins, filling me with its potent force. I caught glimpses of the demon’s past, but disregarded them. I had no interest in his life, just his death.

  I stood in the middle of the makeshift arena as he fell, staring up at Maladee De’ Nix. She drank from her goblet as nonchalantly as possible, but I saw the flicker of apprehension in her eyes.

  Thomas shouted as the jackal demon rained blows down, and he desperately tried to block them. I watched, and for a moment, I couldn’t have cared if he’d lived or died. He was just a man, a weak man, I owed him nothing… then… I glanced back to De’ Nix. She’d promised to fight if I could kill her demons.

  I summoned the black fire and sent it flying. It struck the jackal and engulfed his tangled, bloody fur as Thomas leaped away. The jackal howled, dropped his sword, and fell to all fours as he raced toward me. I watched with the same dispassion I’d felt for Thomas, and waited for him to spring.

  Time slowed as the demon hurtled through the air, claws outstretched and teeth flashing, his wild eyes fixed on mine. My heart beat slow and steady as the power I’d stolen overrode every instinct but one; kill.

  I dropped my blade, side stepped and grabbed the demon by the shoulder, smashing him to the ground. He writhed below me as I dug my fingers into his flesh, and began to draw out his animating force, adding to the black reservoir churning within me.

  The creature howled and gibbered as his fury became fear and then despair. My fingers leaped up to his raw fleshy neck and I squeezed, choking the life out of him and delighting in his agony.

  His feet kicked out and the light left his eyes. I glanced at Thomas while he watched. “You wanted to kill demons,” I said, “this is how you kill demons. You get your hands dirty.” I flicked the blood from my fingers and seized my sword.

  For a moment I wasn’t sure who to go after next; De’ Nix, or Thomas. I'd transformed, part man, part beast, my lust for blood never keener.

  Thomas backed away. I let him go and met De’ Nix’s eye as she rose from her makeshift throne.

  I loped toward her, drinking in her barely disguised horror. “You’ve killed countless,” I said, “but you’ve grown old and weak through letting others do your job. Let’s see how you fare without your protectors.”

  Her surprise turned to outright fury. She stood tall, her shadow falling over me, her antlers shimmering. She reached into the air and a serrated blue steel sword appeared in her hand. The demonic runes glowing along the length of the blade held me transfixed as she adjusted her grip, and then her barbed tail swept from behind her back, striking me in the side of the head.

  I stumbled back, my skull seething with pain. She swung again and I ducked as it swept toward me like a scaly serpent, and rolled away as her sword came down, slicing through the wooden floor like it was cardboard.

  “Old and weak, aye?” De’ Nix cried as I fought to recover my stance. The dark power still surged through me but its ire was threatening to steal my focus, and lessen my advantage.

  Her mouth split into a wild, frenzied grin as she swung again. I parried the blade, ignoring the bolt of pain in my arm, and stepped away as she plunged in close. Before she could turn, I kneed her hard in the gut and as she bent over, I sliced off the tip of her right antler.

  De’ Nix howled, the sound deep and horrific as she stumbled back and placed a hand to her antlers. Her sword was steady before her, a steel barrier, her tail poised to strike. I studied her, and recalled my battle with Sindaub, and how he’d hidden his heart, his most vulnerable point. I’d noticed she’d kept her left leg back, favoring the knot of flesh above her bony ankle. Was that where she'd hidden hers?

  I let her ready her charge, then rolled away at the last moment and as she thundered past I swung the sword of intention up, hacking off the tip of her other antler. She spun around with a scream and rained down blow after blow upon me. I parried them but my arms began to weaken under the pain. I had to finish her and fast.

  The demonic power raging through me stoked my temper. I ignored it. Temper would do nothing. My other tried to guide me, screaming tactics as he tried to push through, but I barely heard him over the thump of blood in my ears.

  De’ Nix’s tail swept like a whip to my throat. I stood my ground, swinging the sword and lopping the end off. The long stump swung back hard, lashing the back of my hand. I dropped the blade and staggered away. De’ Nix did the same. We were both injured and losing strength. One of us was about to fall.

  De’ Nix lifted her hand and the sword of intention rose from the ground, turned in the air, and flew toward me. I arched back, and it sailed over my chest like a flaming spear, dimming as it sank into the shadows and stopped. Miller, the man her demons had savaged, stood there, my sword embedded in his bony chest. He fell dead to the floor.

  Fuck.

  De’ Nix laughed, the sound hoarse and sadistic. “Time to sleep.” She licked her lips. “And when you wake, you’ll be red and raw, your skin will be your blanket and your balls will be where your eyes once lived.” A tremor of what loo
ked like anticipation passed through her.

  I walked counter to her circling approach. I had no weapon.

  She charged and swept her blade at my head. I ducked and fell back, rolling across the floor as her sword sunk through the boards.

  “See,” I said, hoping to urge her into another rash attack, “you’re old, decrepit.”

  It worked. She leaped at me.

  I dived across the floor, seized the tip of her antler and thrust it into the knot of tissue by her ankle.

  De’ Nix spun my way with a leering grin as I stumbled away. Her heart wasn’t there. It was a decoy, evident by the delighted gleam in her eyes.

  I backed away, scouring the shadows for my sword. I yanked it out of Miller’s corpse and swung hard as her cloven hoofs clattered toward me.

  “Block!” I cried as our swords clashed. Sparks blazed. Summoning every scrap of power I had left, I forced her back, turned the sword and thrust it through her chest, right where a heart should be.

  De’ Nix’s eyes widened in shock. She dropped her sword and fell to her knees as my hilt slid up to her chest and her blood ran yellow like yolk. “F… fucking…” Her words vanished as a gasp stole them away.

  “Don’t die just yet,” I said, as I strode to her chair and seized the bucket of blood. I set it before her, pulled my sword from her chest and hacked off the stumps of her antlers. Then I grabbed her head. “Now, for my blood pact.”

  I shoved her head into the bucket. Bubbles broke upon the bloody surface and her body began to twitch and spasm. She swiped her claws through the air, but soon they fell by her sides. I pushed her over and the bucket spilt across the floor.

  Her death brought a thrill of dark happiness, but as I glanced over at Thomas, the horror in his eyes jolted me from my sinister glee.

  It was as if he was looking at the very devil himself.

  40

  As I glanced away from Thomas’s horror-struck face, I caught sight of myself in the reflection of my sword. It was like a punch to the gut.

  My eyes were as hard as stone, the shadows beneath them dark and heavy. If they really were windows to the soul, then I was screwed. What I saw wasn’t me, it was a demon wearing human flesh. Blood spattered the side of my face and a deep black bruise bloomed where De’ Nix’s tail had whipped me.

  “I…” None of the words forming in my mind seemed adequate, or even my own, for that matter. I sheathed my sword. “It isn’t me.”

  Thomas nodded, but it wasn’t an agreeable gesture; it was a fear-filled one. The life force of the demons still rushed like poison through my system, insidious and insinuating, whispering for me to cut the human down, and inflict as much as agony as I could.

  Something flashed in the gloom at the back of the hall. For a moment it made me think of firelight reflected in glasses. Was that a child watching from the darkness? Sindaub? I took a step forward but it vanished, like it had never been there.

  “I have to go.” I said. I had to get out of this cursed place, find Astrid and Samuel and see if anything could be done to remedy my condition. They’d warned me of course, over and over, but I’d needed the energy, needed to fight fire with fire. I hoped they’d understand, that they could help me. Because if they couldn’t, I was screwed.

  “Can you ride?” he asked.

  I nodded, thinking of Willow and the jaunts we’d taken in the park on weekends. It seemed like a thousand years had passed since then.

  “I’ll see if I can find you a horse.” Thomas forced a glance my way and his hand remained close to his sword. “Thank you…” he nodded to De’ Nix’s corpse.

  There was blood spattered everywhere. It mixed red, yellow, black and orange, like some crazed serial killer had tried to recreate a Pollack painting.

  Thomas looked shaken, almost as stricken as Miller, the poor bastard De’ Nix had enchanted with her herbs had. The thought of him gave me an idea and I leaned down to examine her body, and did my best to ignore the pungent curdling blood. I found a hidden pocket in her sodden dress and inside was a pouch of herbs, green and sticky like weed, but carrying the scent of death, dusty graves, and rot.

  I looked up as Thomas headed for the doorway, giving me a wide berth. Poor bastard. His home, his village was a gory desolate wreck. I hoped it would be full of people again someday and restored to how it had been in better times. But how could it be after the demons had so violently salted the land with innocent blood. And all at Stroud’s behest. I strode from the hall, eager to rid my senses of the stench of burning flesh. The night air was icy, the red torches still burned across the village and corpses still hung grimacing from the trees. I glanced up as the mournful clop of hooves on cobbles broke the eerie silence.

  “Morgan,” Thomas called as he led a muddy brown horse toward me, its breath frosting the air. “They spared a few of the poor animals.” He gave a bittersweet smile but tears welled in his eyes as he glanced to the corpses hanging above. He gave them a quick wipe with the back of his sleeve.

  I wanted to mount the horse and gallop away from the blighted place. Leave it behind like a bad memory waiting to be buried. But as I looked at Thomas, and the effort he was making to remain resolute, despite the horror around him, my humanity quashed the hateful demonic chatter. “Tie her up over there,” I said. He looked like he was about to protest, and I couldn’t blame him. I held a hand out. “I want to help you before I go.”

  “You’ve already helped.”

  “Fetch blankets and spades. We’ll lay some of these poor souls to rest.”

  Thomas stared at me for a moment, and then gave a slight nod, led the horse to a tree and tethered her to the thin trunk.

  We worked until the sun painted the sky in a slow blue wash, and we didn’t speak once during the hours of gruesome toil. I cut the ropes and lowered the dead to the ground as gently as I could, covering them with blankets before I set out to collect the bodies from the houses and shops. It wasn’t an easy task and many body parts were missing, or gnawed upon.

  Thomas spent the hours digging and now and then I heard his choked cries. The sound brought with it a compassion that diluted the last of the demonic energy polluting my body and mind.

  Finally, one by one I pulled the corpses from the hall, and laid them out in the market square. It would take days to bury the dead and I didn’t envy Thomas his lot.

  “Thank you,” he said, as I covered the last with a tattered blanket.

  “I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  “So am I.”

  “Will you stay?” I asked.

  “I will. And maybe some of the others who got away will return after they find out what happened tonight. When they hear tell of what you managed to do.”

  “What we managed to do. You saved my life in there,” I said. Even though a sick, diseased part of me had wanted to end yours. I untethered the horse and swung up into the saddle. She snorted, but stayed where she was. “Can you tell me where I’m going?” I asked. I realized after the words had left my lips that there were at least two interpretations to the question and I needed the answers for both.

  41

  Thomas directed me to the woodland path that led to Gallowmorn. It was wide and worn but the horse knew it well and even at such an early hour the forest was alive with skittering chirps and howls. I spotted figures trudging through the distant snow, their eyes glowing. Were they restless? Or worse? I drew back the stirrups, coaxing the horse to gallop on.

  Now and then narrow trails joined the path but the signposts only pointed in two directions. One was back to Heathersage and the other to the place where I hoped I'd find Astrid and Samuel, alive, well and rested.

  The demonic energy still churned inside me, and from time to time I got a strong compulsion to tear and rend anything that stood in my way. When it got overwhelming I’d pause and do my best to subdue it before continuing on. Slowly the urges lessened, but the lurking sense of darkness within me didn’t diminish.

  By late m
orning I emerged on the King’s road, and recognized the hamlet across the fields as the one I’d seen from the window of the coach. The rest of the morning passed quickly as I rode, and gradually the miles to Gallowmorn grew less and less, even with the cautious detours I took into the woods every time I spotted people on the road.

  It was easy to spot the soldiers in their blue cloaks and glistening wolf helmets but sometimes my fellow travelers were harder to see until I came upon them. Most people I encountered stared, perhaps because I was a stranger, or maybe because of the shadows around my eyes and the darkness I felt burning within my gaze.

  The road twisted and turned and the clouds grew heavy, then shifted, revealing the great jagged black slopes of the mountain range in the distance. I’d known them once, I’d lingered in their shadow and wondered at their majesty. Or at least my other had. I was getting close to where I’d been born, or, according to my father, to where I’d been conjured as an imaginary friend, summoned to soothe a little boy’s fears. I had no idea whether what he’d said was true, but it scarcely mattered, because I was me and he was him, and we’d lived a life there once, before waking in the asylum in the blinkered world. I was real and my future and past seemed to lie in the shadow of those mountains. I had no idea how I knew this, but I did.

  Hunger began to prod me and night was drawing in when I spotted a cluster of wagons. They formed a rough circle, and a campfire burned at the center. The people hunched around it were lost to silhouettes but they appeared to be at peace and totally unaware of the three figures stumbling through the snow toward them. Restless, by their chaotic shambling.

  I shouted warnings as my horse galloped toward them and one by one the people rose. Moments later they began to flee with the restless at their backs. I galloped past them, pulling my sword and dodged through the wagons, hacking and slashing the restless.

  A tall zombie with battered leather armor lurched out at my horse. It reared up, kicked the air and bucked me off. I hit the ground hard, and before I could jump up and grab the reins the horse bolted across the snow.