King Of Flames (The Masks of Under Book 1)

by Kathryn Ann Kingsley

  It had always been his opinion that human society grew too slowly. Although now, perhaps he must amend his previous beliefs.

  The human world had changed so dramatically in such a seemingly short period of time. Buildings were taller, made of glass and steel and not mounds of brick. Such construction still remained, lingering in the architecture of a previous time, mixing with the buildings of all the generations that stretched back into its lineage.

  This was a young city, as this world went, merely a few hundred years old. It had not yet resorted so fully to ransacking its own footprint to rebuild as many others had turned to in their time. In his home, they could build on and on, spread outward into the void, and expand to their heart’s content.

  Or at least…it had once been possible.

  Those days were dead and gone. Lying in the lake with all the rest.

  But Edu had not come to this fledgling city to reminisce and philosophize upon human nature and his own shrinking world. He had come, for it was time for the Fall, and he would not miss it for all the glory of Under. There were few things he relished so keenly as the hunt.

  For when the Ceremony of the Fall began…there was prey to be gathered.

  Chapter Three

  Even if it made her feel vaguely like she was going to throw up, Lydia was happy for the food in her stomach. And the alcohol. Mostly, it was probably the alcohol that was making her a little queasy. But hell if it wasn’t worth it. The slight hum she got from the booze made the whole day so much more tolerable.

  Lydia had told Nick about the marks on the corpse’s face, the walking cadaver with the sharp, far-too-long canines. Nick had, of course, said the thing that she was refusing to even speak silently in her mind.

  “Wait. The guy was a vampire?”

  “No. No, that shit isn’t real,” Lydia insisted. “Vampires aren’t real.”

  “But he was a corpse. He was dead. And then he wasn’t. And he had fangs,” Nick argued. “We both have tattoos we don’t remember getting. Ones that matched the ones you say this guy had on his face. I’m willing to go on a little suspension of disbelief here.”

  “I’m not.” Lydia put her head in her hands. “If he did have the same style marks on his face, what the hell does that mean? What’re we now, under attack by some weird supernatural cult?”

  “I don’t know,” Nick said with a sigh. “But it’s gotta be connected. It’s gotta be. It’s too impossible for it to be a coincidence.”

  Nick was right. The idea that somehow the two events were not connected was even dumber. Somehow the mark on her arm and the one on Nick’s neck were related to the undead it-was-totally-not-a-vampire vampire she wound up with on her slab.

  After dinner and drinks, and not wanting to Uber back after the last T stopped running, they paid up and went to the closest stop to head home. Nick, even if he didn’t admit it, was starting to look more and more worried as the night went on. He had asked to crash on her sofa, and she was more than happy to say yes. It was that or sleep with the lights on. Hell, she might sleep with the lights on anyway.

  It was about halfway there that Nick abruptly stopped walking. “Nick?” she asked, turning to face him. But he didn’t move. He was looking over her shoulder at something, and his eyes were wide. His face was somehow paler than it had been a minute before. “Nick?” she asked again, but no dice. He was frozen.

  Some significant part of her desperately didn’t want to turn to see what had locked Nick as solid as a statue. Once Lydia did, her regret was realized. She shouldn’t have looked. She should have just run.

  A man was standing in the middle of the road.

  Well, she assumed it was a man.

  It also might have been a bus, if his size was any indication.

  Whoever it was, he was in full armor. Full, honest-to-god plate armor. Like something out of a movie, it covered every inch of his body from head to toe. Unlike museum pieces, the sections and plates looked like they had been made out of hunks of weird stone or maybe black lava rock, not steel or metal. The plates connected in a nonsensical way that mimicked how plates on an insect’s exoskeleton might join together.

  The armor was pointed, vicious, and was clearly designed to intimidate, not just to protect whoever wore it. And it looked incredibly successful on both counts.

  The man was huge. He wore a full-face helmet that obscured his features entirely. The helm stretched up over his head and tapered off into two great horns that looked like they belonged to a dragon, twisted and cruel. The horns and the thickness of his armor obscured his actual height, but from the pavement to the top, he might have been eight feet total.

  Even without the armor, he was broad and had to be more than a little muscular with how much that armor must weigh. The man was carrying a sword that looked like it might be four feet in length with one hand. The gauntlet that grasped it was clawed and pointed like everything else about him.

  Etched into every surface of his armor seemed to be writing. It was identical to the kind of writing they had on them now as tattoos.

  “Master Edu bids you good evening. He wishes you well. We mean you no harm, and we ask you to come with us.”

  He wasn’t alone.

  Standing behind him and to the side was a woman. Lydia hadn’t noticed her at first, as she was too busy gaping at the giant man in the plate mail. The woman who had spoken had long black hair that reached to her waist. She wore a crimson dress that draped around her like layers of silk. It was split down the front to her navel and wouldn’t have been accepted anywhere as real clothing. But it didn’t seem to bother her at all. The dress wasn’t the weirdest thing about her.

  Over the top half of her face was a solid crimson mask. There were no holes for the eyes, and it obscured everything from her nose up. Across one section of it was a jagged-edged spiral, etched into the surface and inked gold that glinted in the streetlights.

  She was the one who had spoken, and her full red lips were curved in a gentle smile as she stood there, hands folded peacefully in front of her. She was a stark contrast to the armored monolith she was standing next to. Her expression—what Lydia could see of it anyway—wasn’t mean. Just passive and almost piteous.

  The few people who had been on the street were quick to turn around and go the other way. The two bizarre figures seemed not to care about anybody else. They were talking only to her and Nick.

  “Nick…” Lydia said quietly and backed into her friend, who had been locked solid and unmoving at what they saw.

  The impact seemed to shake him out of it, and he grabbed her hand.

  “We need to go,” she said, barely above a whisper.

  “Master Edu insists that running is not advisable,” the woman said, her red lips twisting up in a slightly broader smile. Even with what she was saying, her tone was gentle. “Although it is enjoyable.”

  That was the last straw.

  Nick and Lydia turned, and for the second time in one day, Lydia ran for her life. Nick had to let go of her hand so they didn’t drag each other down over themselves. They tore down the street as fast as they could. Lydia wasn’t a trained runner. She went to the gym twice a week to not be a lump, sure, but she mostly did weight machines. Lydia hated running. Now, she scolded herself for not having stuck to it. It certainly would come in handy right now. It felt like her lungs were going to explode out of her chest, and she might pass out. Blame it on the fear. Yeah. That was why. That was clearly why.

  How far they went, she couldn’t say, before Nick took a sharp right down an alley. Lydia missed the turn and skidded to a halt. She quickly turned back up the way they had come to catch up with her friend.

  No. Not possible.

  How could something that big move that fast?

  There he was—the man in the armor—barely twenty feet away. He was standing stock still, watching her with his head tilted slightly to the side as if curious. But he did not look the worse for the chase at all. Meanwhile, she was a sweaty, out-of-b
reath mess.

  The man in the armor was looking at her with the empty, black, and jagged eye sockets of its helm fixed straight on her. Its mask was sculpted to look like a dragon—or a skull. Or both, maybe. Nothing was visible underneath, like there might not be anyone inside.

  If it was supposed to be terrifying, it worked. Lydia screamed and turned to run again. She made it about three steps before something massive snatched her arm. The sudden stopping of her momentum would have knocked her to the ground if whatever grabbed her hadn’t picked her up off her feet and set her back down like she was a child’s toy.

  It was like being stuck in a vise, but she thrashed and struggled anyway. The armored man had crossed twenty feet of distance inhumanly fast. Worse, it moved almost silently for something wearing what amounted to a tank. A heavy gauntlet had wrapped around her upper arm and was keeping her from escaping.

  “Let me go!” Lydia screamed.

  It just looked down at Lydia, silent and foreboding. It tilted its head the other direction, like a German shepherd, trying to figure her out. No amount of thrashing on her part was even budging the man. She kicked at his leg with her boot, but she felt like she was kicking a rock. He didn’t move. All she got in response was a stab of pain that shot up her leg.

  The creature lifted its other hand, to do what, she didn’t know, but stopped as someone shouted from behind him.

  “Hey, asshole!”

  The monolithic creature turned its head back up the street. There stood Nick, the source of the interruption. He had his gun raised. “Let her go.”

  The creature didn’t. In fact, the man didn’t move. Just looked at Nick, still as a statue.

  “Second chance,” Nick warned.

  The creature turned toward Nick, dragging Lydia with him. It reached its free hand out in front of him and down, palm tilted forward, as if to grasp something. A strange red light crackled between the fingers of his gauntleted hand. It almost looked like electricity, arcing between the creature’s claws. Lydia couldn’t help but whimper in fear as the power grew, and the sword she had seen him carrying earlier appeared in the monster’s hand. One second, his hand was empty, and the next, the wicked and vicious blade was in his grasp.

  To anyone else, it would have been a two-handed weapon. For this creature, he held it with one like it was nothing. And he had summoned it from thin air. The monster tightened its grasp around the hilt of the sword and held it pointed toward Nick. The answer to his challenge.

  If Nick wanted to fight, this guy was game.

  “Oh, fuck,” Nick moaned in fear, but it didn’t stop him from taking aim and firing. Lydia would have been afraid Nick might hit her except for the fact that he really was an excellent shot. The monster in armor was also the size of a small truck so would be hard to miss. That, and Lydia was about at or exceeding her shit-to-be-afraid-of quota for the day.

  Nick fired off several shots. The monster stood there unflinching as each one seemed to bounce off harmlessly. As if nothing had happened.

  Lydia ducked reflexively as she heard the bullets ricochet off the armor and bounce into nearby buildings. The window of a nearby parked car shattered. It hadn’t been Nick who had missed; this thing was literally bulletproof.

  “Run, Nick!” she screamed. “Just go!” Maybe he had time to escape.

  The armored monster let out a low growl, the first sound she had heard from him. It hadn’t been keen on Nick opening fire, apparently. Suddenly, she was on the ground. It had tossed her to the floor like a ragdoll. She let out an umph as she impacted the pavement.

  The armored man was now walking toward Nick. If her friend hadn’t managed to hurt the man, at least he managed to annoy it. Nick quickly realized the predicament he was now in, and he took a step back. “Uh, hey, let’s talk this through, okay? Who are you? What do you want?”

  The creature did not answer and instead kept walking toward Nick. Stalking him. The armored man was in no hurry, as if the monolith was so sure of his success. And so far, Nick and Lydia posed him no threat. Not even a gun did any damage or even seemed to slow him down.

  In a sudden blur of motion, the creature dashed forward faster than should have been possible. Faster than Lydia could track. He swiped a claw at Nick and slapped the gun out of his hand, sending it skittering down the sidewalk.

  Nick screamed and staggered backward. “Run, Lyd!” he yelled over his shoulder as he took off down the alleyway he had disappeared down the first time.

  It was that or give up. There weren’t any other options. Lydia scrambled to her feet and ran for the gun and grabbed it. Maybe if they split up, they could confuse it and get away. At least one of them would escape, right? Lydia took off running in the other direction.

  She made it about two blocks before she had to stop and catch her breath. Lydia leaned against the wall of the alleyway she had ducked down and bent over to rest her arms on her knees. She tried to keep her dinner down and take air in. Shit, Lydia needed air. Holy hell…what should she do? Call the cops? Even if they didn’t believe her, it couldn’t hurt. Either the monster would vanish, and she’d be safe—or they’d take one look at it and call the SWAT team. Or the Army.

  A shadow fell over Lydia. Something tall enough to blot out the streetlamp about thirty feet away. Lydia knew with dread that it wasn’t going to be Nick and looked up to answer the question of which one of them the armored man had chased.

  Her. It had chased her.

  It walked up to her, still taking its time. When she turned to run, it dashed at her and was suddenly standing right in front of her. It was almost like it could teleport, it moved so fast. She added that to the list of crazy impossible shit she’d seen today. One massive gauntlet closed around her arm again and squeezed, just hard enough to hurt.

  It was clear it could break her arm in two if it clenched down. It wouldn’t even need to try to snap her like a twig. The message was clear. If she ran again, he would make her regret it.

  It pulled her away from the wall, and she looked up at it, getting her first up-close view of the monster. The man underneath was easily seven feet tall, judging by where his shoulders were. Where the mask had a gap in it, she could see his neck, clothed in black.

  Hey, at least it wasn’t empty armor running around trying to kill her. That was a plus. Somehow that made it less spooky, that he wasn’t just some empty piece of furniture stomping around. If he had a neck with black clothing, there was somebody inside.

  His neck.

  Somewhere, all those years watching horror movies finally served some kind of purpose. Somewhere, Lydia summoned from fear, or adrenaline, or simply the raw need to survive, the strength to do something smart for once.

  Lydia lifted Nick’s gun that she had picked up from the ground before running and put the end of it, point-blank, against the gap in his armor where his mask ended and his shoulder armor began. She angled it up under his chin, which was easy to do since she was so much shorter than he was. Before the man could react, she pulled the trigger.

  Lydia had seen a lot of gore in her days.

  Really, there was a lot of gore in her life. From the horror movies she watched willingly, to the dead bodies that wound up on her slab, to her years as an EMT and her continued service as a first responder.

  She’d seen a lot of gross, torn-up people, including that guy who had disrespected an industrial lathe when she had been an EMT. She’d seen a lot of disgusting things, period. But the spray of blood that hit her was enough to send her dinner right back up to her throat. This was different. This was fresh. This was real. And this was her fault.

  Lydia stood stock still, unsure of what to do or even to think, as she felt the warmth of the blood against the skin of her hand and face.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the man collapsed to his knees, his grip on her arm slackening as he fell. He lingered there for a moment before falling to his side with a thud and the rattle of armor.

  Lydia backed up slowly against the
wall and swallowed hard, trying to keep herself from losing her dinner all over the ground as she felt the warm liquid on her start to ooze. She wiped away at it frantically and realized her hands were shaking violently.

  I just shot a man. I just shot a man. I just shot a man.

  The words kept going over in her head like a skipping record player. It was in self-defense. It didn’t matter; she shot him. He had been chasing her. He didn’t seem human. He had summoned a sword from thin air. Didn’t matter; she shot him. He was dead. He had bled. Therefore, she shot a man. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess as she tried to make sense of what had just happened.

  All Lydia wanted in the world was to be away from here. To be home and in bed. To let this all be fake, a fever dream. Maybe she was in a coma, and this was summoned forth out of her cancer-ridden brain.

  Lydia punched herself in the thigh, trying to wake herself up. Nope. That had just hurt, and she was still here. I just shot a man. The thought kept going in her head, threatening to drive everything else away and push her into a straight-up, all-out breakdown.

  No, idiot! No! Panic later. Solve the problem first. Panic later. Some part of her EMT training was kicking in. Panic later. She could panic later.

  Lydia flipped the safety on the gun and tucked it into her bag. She rummaged around and found a napkin from her breakfast coffee that she had shoved in there. Desperately, she tried to wipe away the splatter that must still be on her face and her arms. She had to get home. She couldn’t take the T like this, couldn’t call a cab. That left only one option.

  Walking home, it was. At least it was late and dark. Maybe she could go unseen. Lydia walked hurriedly out of the alley and toward home. It’d take her an hour or two to make the long trek, but it wasn’t like she had a choice.

  Yanking her phone out of her pocket, she called Nick. It rang a few times then went to voicemail. She didn’t bother leaving him one. Instead, she hung up and dialed again.