The Last Line Series One

by David Elias Jenkins

  “Wait! Stop. Oh God.”

  Xzaza released the big man and he fell to the floor, fitting and frothing at the mouth. His skin began to split as if acid coursed through his veins. After a few moments he lay spasming on the floor. Malik tried to step forward to help him but a sharp look from Xzaza’s black eyes stopped him in his tracks.

  Cornelius calmly turned back to Malik and cocked his head.

  “You were saying you don’t have what I’m looking for. Carry on.”

  Malik raised his hands and stepped back behind the table. His voice was wavering.

  “Look I don’t have it on me, I gave it to a guy who does work for me, he’s good at shifting artefacts, finding buyers, he was in a spot, needed money so I gave it to him to see what he could do.”

  “But it doesn’t belong to him.”

  The madness of the statement caught Malik off guard.

  “What?”

  “It’s not his.”

  Malik looked at the inhuman calm in the old man’s eyes. He knew he wasn’t getting out of the room alive, but his eyes searched for an escape anyway.

  “I know, I didn’t think it belonged to anyone, like most of the stuff we sell, it’s salvage, it’s scrap, defunct artefacts we find at old closed thin spots. I thought it was a dud.”

  “A dud?”

  “Yeah a dud, like its magic was spent, it didn’t seem to do anything.”

  “What were you expecting it to do?”

  “I...I don’t know, glow in the dark or something, I didn’t know it was important to the Unseelie or I would have-”

  “You would have what? Called us?”

  Malik just stood there staring at the two beings for a few moments, breathing hard.

  “I have connections, I could have…look I can get in touch with this guy, arrange a meeting, he’s looking for a buyer. He doesn’t know what he’s got.”

  “He trusts you?”

  God I hope so.

  “Laz? Yeah we know each other well.”

  “You could give me his electronic mail address?”

  Cornelius pointed a long bony finger at Malik’s open laptop.

  “On your…computer?”

  “Yes. Yes it’s on my computer. Just let’s all calm down, sit down and I’ll get in touch with him.”

  As Malik desperately opened his browser, Cornelius stared down at him.

  “Do you know what it does?”

  Malik tried to make his shaking fingers type in his password.

  “My computer?”

  “The knife.”

  Malik tried to think of the right answer and then shook his head.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  Cornelius leaned over Malik and drew a finger across his throat.

  “Regicide. The killing of monarchy. In this case a Queen.”

  “What queen?”

  “Your Queen. Your real queen.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “That means what you have committed here today, by not approaching us with this dangerous artefact, is treason.”

  Malik felt the end approaching.

  “Treason? That’s insane, I don’t have a queen, I’m Moroccan.”

  “Yes you do. You all do. And you will all bow to her.”

  “I’ll bow, I’ll bow all you want, let’s just stay calm and talk.”

  Cornelius nodded. “Ready to send your message?”

  “Yes.”

  “You confess to your crime?”

  My crime?

  “Treason.”

  Malik knew madness when he saw it. He couldn’t talk his way out of this any more than he could negotiate with a shark. Yet he would still try to negotiate the least gruesome death for himself.

  “If I do?”

  “The penalty for treason is death. Always has been.”

  “Then if I don’t confess?”

  “We will extract a confession.”

  Oh Laz, you poor fool. Whatever you do, don’t let these things get that knife. Whatever it does, they need it. So don’t let them get it.

  “I’m not confessing to anything.”

  Cornelius brought a long scalpel-like instrument from his jacket.

  “Wonderful. I was really hoping that’s what you would say.”

  14

  Isaac crouched low in the foliage, hidden behind a rotting log by the roadside. Deep purple flowers that stank of rancid meat studded the sodden old trunk.

  Isaac’s eyes shone out from the makeshift camouflage paint he had fashioned from mud and moss. His Soulblade was impaled into the damp wood, ready to be drawn fast if they were discovered.

  He heard the approach of the vehicles and placed his hand on Edna’s shoulder. Despite her portly frame, she seemed less fatigued than him. Her dark skin shone with sweat that she dabbed with a floral handkerchief. Isaac was still bemused by her calm demeanour in the face of such horrendous danger.

  “Did they see us Mr Isaacs?”

  Isaac fought to control his heartbeat and breathing. They had been running for over two hours, playing a deadly game of cat and mouse through the thick jungle since their vehicle had given up the ghost. Isaac’s beige shirt was soaked dark with sweat. His exposed hands and forearms were peppered with insect bites. He was aware of his own salty stench and wondered how acute the Anansi rebel’s sense of smell was. He heard the jeeps draw closer down the bumpy jungle track and the blood- lusty whoops of their pursuers. He shook his head.

  “I don’t know.”

  The jeeps suddenly trundled into view, black eyed soldiers hanging from them with rifles scanning the forest. One of them called out and the lead jeep ground to a halt. Two soldiers dismounted and peered out into the trees only a few metres from where they hid.

  Isaac held his breath. The tension was unbearable. As he waited those long moments, Isaac became aware of something soft and furry crawling along the back of his hand. Slowly moving his eyes, he sat staring as the tarantula tentatively negotiated its way up his arm. The hairs prickled on Isaac’s neck. Then the spider opted for a change of direction and crawled nonchalantly into a hollow branch.

  The nearest Anansi soldier took a step forward to the edge of the jungle. His glossy black eyes showed nothing but the two small mandibles extended at the corners of his mouth and twitched.

  Very slowly, Isaac reached for the handle of his Soulblade, still embedded in the trunk. Then a call came from the lead jeep and the soldier shouldered his weapon and leapt back into the vehicle before speeding off out of earshot down the track.

  Isaac sagged and breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Finally.”

  Edna sat back and took a small silver hipflask from her bra. She snapped the lid and took a glug. Isaac raised an eyebrow.

  “Wait a minute, what is that?”

  Edna smacked her lips and held out the flask.

  “Boom-boom.”

  Isaac laughed despite his exhaustion.

  “You had booze all this time and kept it hidden. You either don’t know me at all, or you know me way too well, Miss Edna.”

  She smiled.

  “Try it. Put some hairs on that white chest.”

  “Home-made?”

  “Of course. You afraid? “

  “Hah. I’ve spent years building up immunity to hard liquor. Gimme.”

  Isaac took the flask and knocked back a healthy mouthful. A second later he slapped his hand across his mouth to stifle the coughing fit.

  “Jesus Sidney Christ girl! Now I know why monsters don’t bother you.”

  Edna reclaimed the flask and popped it back in her dress.

  “That’s just an aperitif where I come from.”

  Isaac pulled his blade from the tree and sheathed it. He took a measure of the thick jungle around them.

  “And where exactly is it you’re from? I passed through this way with Arianna only a few days ago. I didn’t see any village. How much farther to go?”

  Edna s
tood up, stretching out her knees and rubbing her lower back.

  “No further Mr Isaacs. We are already here.”

  Isaac turned slowly on the spot, surveying the terrain.

  “Please tell me you’re not just the village alcoholic Edna. And please tell me that this clearing in the jungle is not your village.”

  Edna chuckled at him.

  “No silly boy. My dreams told me you were a doubting Thomas. In them the Loa told me you would come to save us, and here you are.”

  “That’s all very well Edna, but I’m not exactly sure where here is. What I do know is that we are dangerously close to the temple Arianna and I found. I don’t think anyone would choose to live near there. You know the place I mean?”

  Edna suddenly looked gravely concerned.

  “The temple has been asleep for a thousand years. But my village has been here for a long time too. Our task is to watch that temple and make sure it stays asleep.”

  Isaac saw the worry in the old woman’s face, the serious nature beneath her jovial exterior.

  “But it’s not asleep anymore, is it Edna?”

  She shook her head.

  “Follow me Mr Isaacs.”

  The old woman turned and started off at a nimble pace through the thick foliage. The terrain began to steeply climb and ahead Isaac could see moss covered walls of rock jutting up from the jungle floor. Just up ahead, away from the road and partially concealed by trailing vines was a fissure in the rocky hillside. The thick roots of an overhanging tree draped down over the entrance like a clawed hand. As he got closer Isaac could see mossy carvings on either side of the entrance. The crumbling heads of various Unseelie beings regarded him as he passed. Other creatures he had never seen before peered out at him with stony eyes.

  Suddenly the foliage parted and they walked from the tunnel into a lively village. Children ran about in the dusty clearing as an exasperated school master tried to rally them back to their books.

  A group of men were repairing the schoolhouse roof, laying strips of wood and painting it with weatherproof sealant. Another group sat around a small table next to a thatched hut playing dominoes and drinking from a bottle of spirits.

  Isaac thought they seemed to be remarkably relaxed for people living in a tiny hamlet only a mile or two from a site of pure Unseelie power.

  A group of women were huddled around a central fire, laughing and gossiping. In a black pot hung over the fire a stew bubbled. As soon as the smell hit Isaac his belly began to rumble.

  “Whoa that smells good.”

  Edna led him over by the hand to sit amongst the women. They smiled and greeted Isaac warmly as if he had lived there for years. A few of the younger women giggled and eyed him coyly. Edna wagged a finger at them and they continued chopping vegetables.

  “Sit down Mr Isaacs. When was the last time you ate?”

  Isaac suddenly realized how faint he felt.

  “I honestly don’t remember. Two days? Three?”

  “You have woken up from a terrible dream. You need to nourish yourself.”

  Isaac gratefully accepted a wooden bowl of stew. It was rich with yams and curried goat. He tried to restrain himself from just slapping his face down into the mixture and swilling like a pig. He raised the bowl and smiled at the women.

  “That’s amazing. Thank you.”

  The women grinned back at him like he was an idiot.

  Isaac was suddenly acutely aware of being able to rest for the first time in days, even if only for the duration of a meal. He almost felt tears well up but he checked himself.

  “I’m not exactly dressed for dinner. Edna please apologise to these ladies for my appearance.”

  Edna smiled. “Apologize? You’ve already had three marriage proposals.”

  Two of the younger women in the group burst out laughing and starting chatting feverishly amongst themselves. Isaac just nodded and smiled. He looked around him. The village was small and basic but it had all the necessities of life. A small chapel, a schoolhouse, a grain store, a pen of livestock were dotted about the clearing. It was well secluded by natural rocky walls except for the cleft through the hillside that he arrived through.

  “What is this place?”

  “It’s my village.”

  Isaac tried to use the sun to get his bearings.

  “Arianna and me passed right by here only a few days ago. We didn’t see any fire smoke or see any people.”

  Edna smiled at him.

  “There is a blessing here. We are kept hidden from the evil Loa that creep through these trees.”

  “From the temple? Why can’t the Unseelie find you here?”

  Edna poured him a cup of water.

  “Finish your stew. Then I will show you.”

  Isaac stood in the low stone building. There were hammocks and bunk beds lined up along the walls and a small food preparation area in the far corner. Edna stood next to an alcove in the back of the building. Arranged around it on the floor were candle stubs, flowers and small carved clay statues of various village spirits. Standing on a plinth in the alcove was a large translucent stone, like a huge piece of amber the size of a bowling ball. It was rough-hewn and chipped in places.

  “This is where your talisman came from? A piece of this stone?”

  “It is.”

  Isaac studied it closely. It wasn’t any stone he recognized. It was times like this he needed the expertise of one of the geek squad, like Ariel or Arianna.

  You’d know what this was, wouldn’t you Ariel?

  “What is it? Where did it come from?”

  Edna just laughed.

  “We don’t really know. It has been in the village as long as anyone can remember. The old stories say that it came from the temple hundreds of years ago. That it destroyed the Queen of the underworld.”

  Isaac stood taller.

  The Queen of the Underworld.

  “Is that what they say?”

  Edna shrugged and busied herself tidying the shrine.

  “It is just old stories. But Anansi and his spiders cannot look at it or come near it. The stone is like a poison to the things that you call Unseelie.”

  Isaac reached out and gingerly touched the surface of the stone. His fingers tingled as if from electricity.

  “A shard of this stone, will it wake Arianna up the way it did me?”

  “It should, if we can get to her before she is fully turned.”

  A man suddenly ran into the hut and stooped, breathing hard. Sweat glistened on his balding head.

  “Edna, some of the children have gone missing!”

  Edna’s hands rose to cover her mouth.

  “Oh dear Lord. How?”

  “The pastor was returning from the town with them. They were receiving inoculations at the hospital. But he lost his shard of Stone Edna. The Unseelie killed him and took the children.”

  Isaac gritted his teeth and stood up. He felt a little bit of his strength returning from the food he had eaten. It wouldn’t keep him going long so he had to act now.

  “Where are they now?”

  The man turned to him with tears welling in his eyes.

  “They have set up a camp a couple of miles from here, by the river. There is a woman with them. A white woman.”

  “Do you have a map?”

  “Yes.”

  The man ruffled amongst papers in the corner of the room and produced a tattered old folded map.

  “Show me. Show me where this camp is.”

  Edna put a chubby hand on Isaac’s arm.

  “Mr Isaacs, what are you going to do?”

  “Edna, chip me off a piece of that stone.”

  “Mr Isaacs, there is more than just the Anansi soldiers in this jungle. There are unspeakable things that eat people alive.”

  “They eat kids too?”

  Edna had a terrible fear in her eyes.

  “I’m afraid that they do.”

  Isaac turned to the man.

  “Bring me any weapo
ns you have in the village.”

  Edna nodded to the man, who ran off double time across the village. Then she stroked Isaac’s stubbled face like a kindly aunt.

  “You are going out there? Alone?”

  “I’ve got to get those children back Edna. And there’s a girl out there I promised I’d take to dinner.”

  “My dreams were not wrong about you Mr Isaacs.”

  Isaac unsheathed his Soulblade and took a whetstone from his belt. He began to sharpen it, sparks dancing from the charmed edge.

  Time for a bit of guerrilla warfare, Marlowe.

  “I hope not.”

  15

  London is a city of catacombs and secret tunnels.

  For centuries the scattered Unseelie of the city had scuttled around in the deep places, diminished and furtive as the strength of humanity grew. Their fear of technology drove them deeper. The great mechanical trains that began to hurtle through the silent tunnels from the 1860’s rattled their unnatural bones and they retreated ever further into nook and cranny.

  In the dark their anger festered.

  Whatever mischief or mission had originally brought them through the dangerous and unstable thin spots had long been forgotten. Some of them had been summoned by druids or warlocks over the centuries for one nefarious task or another. Some were exiles from their own realm, sent to earth as punishment. A few were still active and in touch with others of their kind in the world. They plotted and planned against the vast weight of people above them. Sometimes they would drag an isolated Londoner down into the dark to eat or torment. Occasionally London Underground workers would vanish while carrying out maintenance in the lesser known tunnels.

  London had been promised to them by the King of the Deep in ancient times. It was meant as a glorious Unseelie city beneath the moon, with humans in chains and worked to the bone as slaves.

  Where had it all gone wrong, they wondered? How had they ended up so outnumbered and divided?

  In their loneliness and bitterness, over the centuries they had come to believe that a Messiah would one day come to the city. That their Queen of old would return to drive out the humans and claim for the ragged Unseelie what had been promised so long ago.

  In the last few weeks, a thrum of excitement had shivered through the dark tunnels. One of their kind, a respected and powerful necromancer not seen for centuries, had returned and brought with him glorious news. More than news, he was spreading a gospel to all of them.