The Last Line Series One

by David Elias Jenkins

  Usher took a plate and began to stack it.

  As Debruler poured him a glass of wine, a staunch figure appeared in the doorway.

  Colonel Greystone raised an eyebrow at the scene and shook his head.

  “Well, I suppose I did invite them here under the premise of a dinner party. And look how they blend in. Surprised they don’t do more undercover work.”

  Despite his exhaustion Usher suppressed a laugh.

  “So here we are sir. In our secret clubhouse away from prying eyes. Where do we stand on saving the world?”

  Greystone sat down in a big chesterfield armchair and sighed. He called out to the hallway.

  “In you come gentlemen.”

  Buller and Laz sheepishly shuffled in to the room. They seemed reluctant to meet anyone’s eye. Greystone piped up.

  “Don’t worry boys, you’re amongst friends now. This is Empire One, they’re going to keep you safe tonight during the operation.”

  Laz looked up and scanned the room. His nervous expression slowly turned to one of disbelief. Empire One were sprawled across the ornate drawing room, feet up on furniture, swigging expensive brandy from the bottles and tearing of strips of lamb with their teeth.

  “These guys? This is the spec ops team you told me about? It looks like pirates of the Caribbean.”

  Brock raised a glass to Laz.

  “Aaaaaar.”

  Laz turned heel and grabbed Buller by the collar.

  “Come on Buller we’re going. I’m not dying for this lot of madmen or their crusade.”

  Usher stepped smartly in front of them. Laz and Buller stopped in their tracks.

  “Boys, you’ve already stolen an artefact of global importance, hacked into a secure government database, traded in illegal thaumaturgy, and that’s just today’s offences. How much trouble do you think you could end up in?”

  Laz’s narrow shoulders sagged.

  “So if the monsters don’t get me the fucking suits will. You people…”

  Usher drew in close and fixed his steely eyes on Laz. The young man could not meet the gaze for more than a second.

  “You also took in one of my closest friends in and probably saved her life. And you saved my dog. That makes you a hero in my book. Thank you.”

  Laz tried to come back with some witty retort but he was so unused to be genuinely thanked that he found himself momentarily lost for words. He felt a surge of an emotion he was unfamiliar with. Pride.

  “You’re uh…you’re welcome.”

  Usher put a hand on his shoulder.

  “I know what we are asking you to do is dangerous. I can’t force you to do it and I won’t lie to you there’s a good chance that none of us will live out the night. We’re on our own, unsanctioned, unsupported and working in the dark. But if we can’t draw this enemy out into the open tonight then everything we have fought to protect over the years will be for nothing.”

  Laz looked up at the scarred soldier. He was possibly the most terrifying man Laz had ever seen, but what really scared Laz about him was the intensity of his honesty.

  “What is it that you’ve been fighting to protect?”

  Usher gave him a rueful smile.

  “You of course. You and everyone like you who doesn’t know what the hell is out there in the dark waiting to eat them. We’re the only thing standing between you and the boogeyman. If they get through us, there is no one else to stop them. We’re the last line, son. And we’re asking you to stand on it with us. Just this once.”

  Laz was not used to trusting people, perhaps because he did not often trust himself. Yet he found himself unable not to have faith in this man. He was the sort of character that Laz would follow into battle. Laz thought he was the sort that anyone would follow into battle, because he would always be on the front line himself.

  “Alright. I’ll do what you need. But please bear in mind that courage is a very finite resource for me so you can’t leave me hanging on.”

  Usher smiled and gave him a curt nod.

  “We’re all on our last reserves, son. That’s when we dig deep.”

  Laz glanced around at the group of rough battle scarred soldiers feasting like Vikings.

  “They don’t look like they’re scared of anything.”

  Usher chuckled as he walked off to join them.

  “No, they get scared, they just grab the good times while they can.”

  Greystone stood up in front of the troops.

  “So, let’s discuss where we all are. Major Usher has confirmed that Ariel is still alive and in situation unknown on the other side. Information gleaned by Debruler via our unconscious winged friend seems to confirm this.”

  Empire One tried to supress the excitement they felt that their friend was alive. They couldn’t allow too much open affection. Charlie piped up.

  “Jammy little fucker. He must be having such a geek fest over there.”

  Greystone smiled.

  “Indeed. I hope he’s sticking it to those ugly fuckers for everything he’s worth. Now, the second thing we’ve known since the Bloodmist operation that the Special Threats group was compromised.”

  The soldiers of Empire One stopped eating and looked up. They were waiting.

  Usher sighed as he remembered what the Unseelie at Marksley Willows had confessed.

  “Usher has gleaned that the source is Lord Bramley. He’s on the Unseelie payroll. So for now we really are operating on our own.”

  Brock threw his glass into the fireplace.

  “Fucking politicians. That explains a lot of the shit that’s come our way recently.”

  Greystone just calmly sipped on a brandy.

  “He was top of my list of suspects.”

  “They’re after you too, sir?”

  “They’ve been after me for a while, trying to disgrace me and take me out quietly. Leave Lord Bramley to me. We move in the same circles and I’m going to deal with him myself.”

  Jeter sat in a big armchair in the corner, straight backed and quietly smoking.

  “So we are on our own now Colonel. Without support but free from interference. Quite liberating really.”

  The colonel nodded.

  “That’s why we’re here. Because you lot are the only group in the world that I fully trust right now. “

  Usher looked at his team. They were sometimes brutish, harsh and opportunistic, but that was just the life they led. They had to have fun while they could. Right now they were the only team in the world that could deal with this Unseelie threat.

  He stood and addressed them.

  “As far as Cornelius Fortune and his ilk are concerned, The First Knife has indeed been rumoured to have turned up in the city. It is in the possession of a Mr Laszlo Mozolowski, recent hacker of the STG computer system, present here with associate. The buzz is that he plans to sell it to a local gangster named Lackland tonight at Club Thorn. A deal set up by his associate Malik, a Moroccan dabbler in such things. Of course both Malik and Lackland were found floating in the Thames outside the Standing Stone pub earlier tonight.”

  Santiago deftly cut up an apple with one of his knives.

  “So it’s a setup. Cornelius Fortune plans to ambush him to get the knife for himself.”

  “It would seem that way.”

  Usher’s voice chimed cold when he thought of Cornelius Fortune. He had a score to settle with the old necromancer.

  “And where Fortune is, the Bones of Lilith won’t be far.”

  Jeter raised a blonde brow.

  “So this may be our one chance to locate and destroy the Bones and Fortune before she is resurrected.”

  Debruler coughed and chipped in.

  “Only problem is, even if we find them and we have the knife, until one of the watch stations gets back to us and has disabled her temple, all the lore does suggest to us that she is essentially invulnerable.”

  “So whatever happens, we’re screwed.”

  A shrill ringing from Greystone’s briefcase. H
e stopped and stared at it for a moment, seeming genuinely surprised.

  “Colonel is that the phone for-”

  “The watch stations.”

  Stromberg raised his hands.

  “Timing.”

  Greystone flipped open the case and took the call. Empire One stood silent as Greystone’s brow furrowed and he listened intently.

  Greystone blinked slowly and then looked up at his soldiers with an almost childish grin.

  “Well hello Isaac. Nice to hear from you…perfect timing as always.”

  Usher felt a wash of emotion and had to clench his jaw to suppress it.

  Isaac. You’re alive. And of course it’s you that’s found the temple. No one else would be unlucky enough to stumble across it.

  21

  Isaac had never been so relieved to speak with his friends as he had a few hours ago, but now the full burden of his mission weighed heavy on his back.

  If Isaac couldn’t disable the thaumaturgic shield emanating from the temple of Lilith, his closest friends and teammates were almost certain to die. They would try to stop it happening regardless because that was just who they were.

  Isaac wasn’t about to let them go on a suicide mission.

  “You ready?”

  Isaac shouldered his Bergen and checked that his rig was in order.

  Arianna, looking thin and tired but determined, tightened her belt and sheathed her survival knife. She gave Isaac her most flippant smile. He thought she looked beautiful.

  “Am I ready to take a walk through a pathless jungle filled with demons that want to eat us?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sure, why d’you ask?”

  “Oh, you know.”

  Arianna patted herself down, adjusting the molly pockets on her tactical vest as she went.

  “We got everything?”

  Isaac racked his pistol to state one and re-holstered it. He opened his magazine pouches and checked they were full.

  “Carbines, two pistols, about eighty rounds, five litres of water, ration packs, first aid kit, mozzy repellent, forget anything?”

  Arianna glanced at the leather pouch slung on Isaac’s waist that swung with something about the size of a bowling ball.

  “Ancient thaumaturgic stone we know almost nothing about but that seems to repel demons?”

  Isaac patted his pockets and feigned surprise as he noticed the bulbous pouch.

  “Eh, hold on. Yeah, yeah I got that.”

  Edna walked over to them and squeezed both their shoulders with her plump hands.

  “It is very brave what you are both doing, Mr and Mrs Isaacs.”

  Isaac raised his brows at Arianna and she almost blushed.

  “Edna, you know we’re not actually married or anything, don’t you?”

  Edna tutted and shook her head, making her chin wobble.

  “Hey, I am your Aunt Edna, I have prophetic dreams, remember.”

  “And you’ve seen us…you know?...”

  Edna sighed as if talking to children.

  “Well I hadn’t experienced that kind of dream in a long time, Isaac, but you know, I’m old, I’m not dead.”

  Isaac stood there blushing for a moment and then shrugged.

  “Ok, it’s kinda weird that you imagined us doing it, but if it comes true, I owe you one.”

  Edna smiled and handed Isaac a small hip flask.

  “I have something for you, a present.”

  “Edna, you gave us the sacred stone that keeps everything here safe, I think you’ve given us enough.”

  Edna gestured again for Isaac to take the flask.

  “When you succeed in your task, you and your lady will need to celebrate. I’ve filled this up for you. Not the stuff I give to people round here. The good stuff, an old vintage.”

  Isaac gingerly took the flask and flipped the lid.

  “Boom boom?”

  Isaac sniffed the contents and almost had a coughing fit.

  “Of course.”

  “Stronger than that other one?”

  “Considerably.”

  Reluctantly Isaac secured the flask in an empty molly pocket. He blew out his cheeks.

  “Well if the stone doesn’t poison the temple, I’ll pour this shit down there, see what happens.”

  Edna nodded.

  “If all else fails.”

  Isaac peered behind her at the village. The inhabitants were hastily arranging fortifications as best they could but the materials on offer were woefully inadequate and would do little to stop bullets or claws.

  “Edna, are you absolutely sure you want us to do this? It’s a terrible risk.”

  “I think the option of safety is long past, Isaac.”

  Isaac drew in close. He wanted the old woman who had been so kind to him to understand the risk she was taking.

  “Edna, the Unseelie will be here by sundown at the latest. With this stone gone there is nothing to protect you or anyone else here. You can’t fight them.”

  “I have faith in you.”

  “You place a lot of faith in a stranger, old woman.”

  Edna reached up and placed her hand on Isaac’s stubbled, scarred cheek. In her sweetest voice she spoke.

  “Isaac Marlowe, I know that life has taught you to see the worst. You spend your every waking day fighting nightmares. You have so many scars and most of them I cannot see. All your closest friends, your Empire One, they are men like you. I have had dreams of you before we met, and in them all you were here to save us. It is alright to have hope.”

  Isaac slung his carbine up across his chest.

  “I can allow a little hope. But I always feel more hopeful with a loaded gun in my hand.”

  Edna gave a little chuckle and nodded.

  “I said hopeful, I didn’t say unprepared.”

  Arianna shifted from foot to foot. She was looking up at the bright sky above the trees.

  “Isaac we need to go. Daylight’s burning.”

  Isaac hugged the old woman.

  “Well I guess you’ll know if we succeed by nightfall.”

  “Oh I was planning to have an early night.”

  Isaac released her and took out his backup pistol. He cleared it and handed it to her along with a charged magazine.

  “If you have to, use this. Those spider people are tough but they go down. They go down icky, but they go down. Aim for right here, in the centre of the chest. Keep the kids safe.”

  Edna reluctantly took the firearm and nodded.

  “Alright Isaac. And you, if you see that tricksy spider Anansi, give him my regards.”

  Isaac turned and trudged off towards the vague overgrown path through the jungle at the edge of the village.

  “Oh I’ll give him a message.”

  Edna waved, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes.

  “See you soon.”

  Isaac waved.

  “You will.”

  Within moments Isaac and Arianna were lost to view in the tangled trees.

  22

  Usher ground his motorbike to a halt in the alley. He sat there astride the saddle for a few moments, staring at the nondescript metal door situated between the overflowing bins of a Chinese restaurant. A fizzing neon sign above the door flickered in burning red.

  Club Thorn.

  The rain battered down onto the visor of his helmet. He felt the pre-fight adrenaline begin to flow.

  Empire One had decided to infiltrate the club covertly in small staggered teams to evade both the living and thaumaturgic security. None of them truly knew what level of force waited for them inside. They knew that their chances of success were slim. They always had been.

  So this is where it all ends. For better or for worse. I kind of knew when it came down to it that it would just be me and Empire One against them all.

  He swung his leg off the bike and flicked up his visor.

  Suits me just fine.

  He walked up to the door and gave it a firm rap with his gloved fist. The
n he stood back and waited. In his black leathers, Usher knew he could fit in to the club’s aesthetic. He just hoped he wasn’t physically searched. Twin suppressed Sig Sauers dug into his ribs beneath the thick leather biker jacket, and his Soulblade sat neatly down the back of his thigh. He had magazines dotted about his person, loaded with as many different kinds of experimental ammunition as he could muster. The mini transmitter in his ear was invisible to anything but the closest inspection. Greystone had salvaged whatever he could for the team when he left headquarters, whatever would not attract attention. There was no control room on the other side of the earpiece. The only voices that Empire One would hear would be each other’s.

  A panel slid open and black eyes peered out at him. Usher produced a ticket from his pocket and held it up. The black eyes narrowed and scanned him from head to toe. Then a hollow metallic clunk and the door swung open onto a red hallway lit with flickering candles and hung with deep purple drapes.

  A huge man stood there in an evening suit. His skull was pockmarked with a hundred scars and his face and hands were a map of tattoos. The untrained eye might think that they were obscure Russian mafia symbols but Usher recognized thaumaturgic sigils when he saw them. This man was obviously a human acolyte of the Unseelie, a sick worshipper willing to commit any heinous act he was ordered to perform in exchange for a dark blessing or two. Usher didn’t know what was worse, them or the Unseelie. The man grinned and Usher noticed that his rotten teeth had been filed to brown points. In a harsh whisper he spoke.

  “Evening sir. You realize that tonight is a private function?”

  Usher held out the thaumaturgic ticket. It glimmered with a dim glamour. Sigils swirled across the engraved card, dancing in a whirlpool as they passed beneath the boundary mark on the doorframe. The swirling symbols turned from red to green and the sharp toothed bouncer gave Usher a hearty grin that brimmed with threat.

  It was an ingenious Unseelie way to make the establishment easily the most exclusive nightspot in London. Tickets floated around the black market, traded in the dark underbelly of the internet, swapped under tables in pubs like the Standing Stone or exchanged for thaumaturgic items found at defunct Thinspots.