Bullets were whistling past his head but Lionel Makanda felt no more fear. He took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. The nearest soldier jerked on his feet and a spray of yellow mist puffed up behind his head. Before the first soldier fell Lionel had drawn a bead on the next, and put another bullet through his cheek and out the back of his skull.
As they got closer, Lionel could see the black eyes of the warriors, the sharp mandibles at the corners of their mouths and the long rattling black tongues. Even as their brethren fell, the soldiers of Anansi’s Web showed no fear at all. They ran whooping towards any terrified villagers who had not found a good enough hiding place. People were sprayed with bullets or hacked with machete in a haphazard and random manner as if they were not people at all.
Lionel fired off another shot but this time he missed and caught the rebel in the hand. Three fingers flew off in a glut of yellow blood but the soldier just looked at with detached curiosity and then continued his attack on the woman at his feet.
Lionel suddenly noticed one attacker that was quite different from the rest. For a start, he was white. He had the same black eyes as the rest of the cult but he moved differently, with more precision. It was as if even under the black sleep, his muscle memory moved his body as it had always been taught. Lionel could instantly see that this man had been a professional soldier.
Suddenly a shadow blocked his view and he flinched, his bullet just grazing the white soldier’s arm. As Lionel drew back from his sights he saw a wiry rebel had leapt over the truck bonnet and was holding a machete above his head.
Suddenly the Anansi’s Web soldier had a hole in the centre of his forehead. A moment later a loud bang registered in Lionel’s ears and he gaped as the soldier crumpled at his feet. Lionel twisted and over his shoulder he saw old Edna holding a rifle in her bony hands. She smiled down at Lionel and beckoned him into the store.
“Quickly Lionel. Come inside with the others. We need you to protect the children.”
Lionel struggled to his feet and limped over to the old woman.
“Thank you Edna.”
The old woman smiled but was already looking past him. Despite the screams and the blood and the flying bullets, her attention was focussed utterly on the Caucasian warrior now hacking his way like a dervish through the villagers. The man was crimson with blood and he grinned like a madman as he worked his blade.
She suddenly knew that what her dreams had been telling her was true.
Without the slightest fear or hesitation, she put down her rifle and strode out into the main street, walking between the murderous soldiers as if they were enthusiastic shoppers in a busy mall during sales.
As she drew closer to the white soldier, he looked up from his butchery and peered at her with his shark eyes.
Once-Isaac was caught in the glory of the blood dream. He was so excited as the jeep drew closer to the village he could hardly contain it, and began to whoop and holler. He could actually smell the fear and blood on the wind as they approached and it filled him with joy.
He had never felt such brotherhood, such singularity of purpose. He had some vague recollections of his time before the black sleep, a human soldier running with other humans. How shallow and weak his bonds of brotherhood with those soldiers seemed now. The conflict of the mind and confusion of the soul that he used to feel on a daily basis troubled him no more. The removal of compassion, conscience and empathy had left him a distilled and purified vessel. There was nothing left in him but hate and it tasted divine.
Once-Isaac leapt from the jeep, his black-eyed brothers on either side. He was connected to them, could feel their rage and bloodlust and it fuelled his own. He laughed at the thoughts he had once had. The very notion that humanity could ever defeat the Unseelie was absurd to him now. Human thoughts were messy and their emotions complex. They would always hesitate, always doubt their own behaviour. The Unseelie mind was distilled to perfection. He hated humanity with every fibre of his being. He was defined by it until he was no more than a reflection of it. There was no more fear of death because the King of the Deep would consume his black soul when he died and become stronger for it. The destruction of this human village was a glorious and holy act, and his deep god would bless him for it. Once their work was done here, general Anansi would be much pleased and give them all a blessing.
Once-Isaac extended his black tongue and it rattled in unison with his brethren. Then he ran at the pathetic villagers and began his divine work.
A young man cowered in a doorway, his hands up in surrender. Once-Isaac grinned at him and brought his Soulblade down into the side of the man’s neck. Hot salty blood sprayed out and across Once-Isaac’s face. His rattling tongue flicked out and lapped it up. He watched the young man in detached fascination as he grabbed his own neck and sank down the wall with a look of shock on his face. Once-Isaac bent down and forced the man’s hand away, revelling as the blood flowed free.
Suddenly bored, Once-Isaac turned from the dying villager and strode out into the dusty main street. A middle aged man with a patchy beard panicked and ran out from behind a car but Once-Isaac caught his calf with a kick and he sprawled onto his face in the dirt. He calmly walked over and stood on the man’s back as he tried to stand. A dusty face turned to look up and Once-Isaac let him struggle and twist for a few terrified moments before slicing his thigh open. The man let out a high pitched wail and shook his head as the hot blood flowed out to turn the dust red. Once-Isaac took in the metallic scent with a smile and then brought down his blade and opened the other thigh, this time catching the femoral artery. The blood sprayed up eight feet into the air and Once-Isaac spread his hand and enjoyed the feeling of it showering back down upon him.
Oh this is glorious.
He heard the other Unseelie warriors all around him, felt their minds and hearts. Over all that he could feel the mind of General Anansi, urging them on and sculpting their wills. How liberating it was to give up such control to another, how free from responsibility and conscience. There was nothing required of him but obedience and in return he belonged and was rewarded with the darkest thaumaturgy.
Once-Isaac spun, grinning and soaked in blood.
There was an old woman walking towards him.
Once-Isaac readied his blade and crouched, swaying like a snake about to strike. Some primitive cunning deep within told him that this woman was a threat yet he could see no evidence of it. She strode amongst the Unseelie soldiers and terrified villagers without a care in the world, hardly flinching as machete and bullets whizzed past her.
The woman walked up and stood before him, giving him a benign smile and clasping her hands in front of her. She was simply dressed with her hair in a bun and no adornments except for a necklace with a shard of red stone hanging from it. She nodded to him and spoke in a calm voice.
“I have dreamt of you. I was sent here to find you.”
Once-Isaac cocked his head and stared at her with his inky eyes. She was a little plump and he imagined how much fun it would be to hack away at her until she was just a pile of parts. He grinned and raised the blade above his head.
The old woman just shook her head and tutted.
“Wake up you silly spider. Old Anansi has put your soul to sleep. It is a bright morning and it is time to awake.”
Once-Isaac brought the blade down in a sweeping arc towards her neck. Like a magnet his blade was drawn to the red stone around her neck and the shard shattered with a clap like thunder. His blade flew from his hand as if from electric shock and Isaac was lifted off his feet and thrown backwards into the dusty road.
For a few moments he just laid there, the sounds of the world far above him as if he lay in the cool water of a deep well.
Then he sat up in a fit of coughing and his blue eyes stared at the old woman in shock.
“What…who are…you?”
“I’m Edna. Welcome back. My dream told me that you are Mr Isaacs. Are you Mr Isaacs?”
Isaac looked abo
ut him at the fighting and then saw the blood coating his hands and arms.
“I’m…yes. Yes my name is Isaac…Oh God, what was I doing? What the hell was I doing?”
Edna reached out a dry old hand and smiled.
“It was not you Mr Isaac’s, it was tricksy old Anansi working through you. Now come, we must go.”
Isaac slowly got to his feet. His head was throbbing but at least he was the only one in it. His mind was reeling at what he had done. The frenzy and hate. He wanted to vomit.
Those poor innocent people, what did I do?
“I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t. The Unseelie. They’re just pure hate.”
Edna nodded. “They are. Silly souls. There is a place we can go to be safe from them for now.”
“Where?”
“My village. It is on no maps so you must follow me there. I think you are supposed to be there.”
Isaac shook the cobwebs from his brain and raised an eyebrow.
“Supposed to…says who?”
“The Unseelie are not the only things in the spirit world Mr Isaacs. There is more in the jungle than just naughty spiders.”
An Anansi’s Web soldier suddenly leapt across the street waving his machete and hissing. He ran at the old woman with his blade raised. Isaac swiftly kicked the soldier in the ribs, lifting him off the ground and folding him in two. As the creature tried to rise, Isaac picked up his Soulblade and lopped off his head in one smooth stroke. Mustard blood boiled out into the sandy road.
Now that he understood the true nature of what lurked in these creature’s souls, he hated them more than ever. His disgust at them was disgust with himself from being under their spell. Isaac knew he had a lot of work to do to find redemption for what he had done under that dark spell.
Old Edna never moved an inch, just stood there regarding Isaac with clever eyes. Isaac stood up and stared at her, breathing hard. She offered him a happy smile. Isaac wiped the slimy yellow blood from his blade and shook his head at her.
“When you decide to roll the next joint of whatever jungle herb you are on, I want first puff.”
“Agreed. Now come, we must go.”
Isaac glanced around the village at the running skirmish.
“We can’t yet. There’s someone else we have to wake up.”
“The woman you were with? I saw you in the jungle with her. She is not here. She passed by my village, deep in the jungle yesterday.”
“You saw her? We need to save her. Whatever you did to me you need to do again.”
Edna looked to her chest and shook her plump head.
“My stone is broken Mr Isaacs. I can wake no one else up here.”
Isaac held her arms and gazed into her eyes.
“But you can, you can wake her up?”
Edna nodded and Isaac let her arms go, ashamed.
“In my village yes. That was but a tiny piece of a larger stone. If we can get her there, I can save her.”
Isaac peered over at one of the empty jeeps at the edge of the village. A lone soldier was guarding it. Isaac felt his mouth go dry and his hand tighten on his Soulblade.
“You say I’m supposed to go there? That she was seen close to your village?
“You are. And she was. My dreams do not lie. You have work there.”
After everything that he had seen, all the darkness he had experienced in Jakanna, Isaac was suddenly willing to take a few things on faith.
There has to be more than Unseelie magic in the world. For every curse, there has to be a blessing. There needs to be.
“Then that’s where we go.”
Isaac put an arm around Edna’s shoulder and led her through the shadowed porches towards the vehicle. The old woman was surprisingly spry and moved with a vigour Isaac would never have guessed at. His blood soaked hands stained her floral dress and once again he felt the pangs of shame at his actions under the black sleep. There was no time for regrets now however, so he channelled it all into determination and rage against the Unseelie.
Isaac crouched in the shadows of the porch closest to the vehicle. He turned to Edna.
“Wait here.”
A few moments later the Unseelie sentry peered down as a blade cracked out through his chest. He prodded the point with the tip of his finger and what looked like thick pus dripped from it. Isaac twisted the blade then withdrew it and the Unseelie fell without a sound. He turned around and beckoned to Edna, who trotted jauntily up and sat herself comfortably in the passenger seat.
Isaac threw himself into the driver’s side and turned the key. As the engine rumbled he stopped and turned to Edna. She was primping her hair in the wing mirror.
Why is this old lady less scared than I am right now?
“Your village. Lively place?”
“Oh no, Mr Isaacs, nothing ever happens in our village. It’s a peace and quiet sort of place.”
Isaac glanced past her and saw a few Unseelie soldiers flick their heads up from slaughter and stare over at them. The attention spread as the rest of the killers heard one another’s thoughts. They stood up and began to advance on the jeep.
Isaac shifted it into gear and revved the engine.
“How far is it from here?”
“You passed it the other day, on your way back from the jungle temple.”
“I didn’t pass any village.”
“You didn’t see any village. You did pass it.”
“Ok, so I head east. You good at giving directions?”
“I can point the way.”
Isaac saw the Anansi’s Web soldiers start to run, bringing their guns up to aim and heading for the other jeeps.
“You good at giving directions under pressure?”
Edna just smiled at him and put a hand on his gore-caked sleeve.
“I’m sure it will be an exciting journey, Mr Isaacs.”
Isaac gritted his teeth and cranked off the handbrake. The jeep took off in a cloud of dust.
“I guarantee it.”
The first shots whizzed past them as they accelerated out of the village. Isaac flinched and glanced at Edna who sat there like a jovial Aunt on her way to church.
“You let me try whatever you’re smoking, you promised that?”
Edna smiled and nodded. Isaac stepped up a gear and swerved the car off road as he heard the shouts and rattling tongues behind him.
Don’t worry Arianna. I’m coming for you, girl.
13
Malik was pouring himself a drink from the bottle of bourbon next to the unwashed dishes, when the door opened. It was after hours and even the cleaners had gone home from the restaurant.
His bodyguard Akim was standing there, as broad as a bear with his shaved head. He had an odd expression on his face that Malik was unused to seeing.
Fear.
Malik took a step towards him then instinctively stopped.
“Akim? You alright?”
The big Turk stepped into the room. He moved like he had a gun pressed to his back. There were two shadowy figured behind him.
“A couple of people here to see you Mr Malik.”
Malik felt the warning prickle of fear in his stomach but shrugged and took a slug of bourbon. It was against his beliefs to drink alcohol, but it was against his beliefs to believe in half the things he saw every day. The circles he moved in, the items he dealt in, he knew it was only a matter of time before something like this happened.
“I don’t have any appointments today. See them off.”
Akim was sweating profusely.
“They are insisting.”
Akim stepped forward and Malik noticed that something was sticking in his neck, like a black syringe. A tall slim African man stood close to his shoulder and Malik squinted as he saw that the thorny spike was protruding from this man’s wrist into Akim.
“Akim, what the fuck-”
Another man stepped out from behind. At least Akim thought it was a man at first. As his eyes adjusted he realized that no man could look
like that much of a corpse and still be walking. He was old, his bloodshot eyes lit with the fire of a preacher. His skeletal body was all angles beneath his dusty black clothes. His voice was dry old bones.
“This is more of a drop in than an actual appointment. I heard that you were the go to fella in town for all matters relating to unusual antiques of a special nature.”
Malik knew they were Unseelie because every fibre in his being was afraid. He tried to keep his hand steady as he slugged back the rest of his bourbon.
“We’re closed, and we don’t do business this way. We negotiate we don’t use violence.”
The filthy old preacher leaned in and ran his long nose across Akim’s stubbled neck.
“Big man here does. He loves it. I can smell it off him.”
“Who are you?”
“You know who we are.”
Malik fought to maintain an air of controlled negotiator. He felt the vein throbbing in his neck as he looked across at Akim. The big man had tears in the corners of his eyes.
“I mean what do I call you? If we’re doing business.”
“I’m Cornelius Fortune. This is Mr Xzaza. He has travelled here from Jakanna to visit our beautiful city. This is more than business.”
Malik pulled out a chair and gestured for everyone to sit down. His hand was still shaking.
“Look he’s just here to show a bit of muscle ok, he’s my brother in law. Let’s just… shall we just all sit down at the table here and have a drink and talk about what it is you’re looking for.”
The old man calling himself Cornelius held the palms of his hands apart to indicate length.
“I am looking for something about yay big, wavy up front. Definitely foreign. Cold to the touch.”
Oh no, Laszlo. Please still have it please still have it.
“The...the knife? I don’t have it here.”
Cornelius gave Malik a game show host grin.
“Well that’s bad news for Akim.”
The tall elegant black man clenched his fist and the barb in Akim’s neck pulsed and twitched like a wasp’s stinger. Akim’s skin began to smoke and bubble and his eyes rolled back white.
The Last Line Series One Page 70