Dark Game (Merikh Book 1)

by C L Walker

  I had no plan of attack. I had no backup. I had no idea what I was about to face.

  I also had no choice, really. I got out of the car, checked that I had my gear in place, and entered the woods.

  Chapter 20

  The darkness enveloped me like armor and I ran straight for the house. Claire believed that once I killed Foster his influence would end, meaning the fighting in Littleton would end, too, and people would stop dying.

  I didn’t know if the being who’d convinced me to do this would actually bring Mouse back for me, but I was prepared to risk it either way. And if it didn’t, if it had all been a lie and I died without ever seeing her again, then I could console myself that I had at least a good thing before the end.

  Branches snagged me as I ran, appearing out of the darkness and whipping away just as quickly. I kept on my feet but I was being careless, risking tripping and taking myself out of the situation via unconsciousness before even getting to the house.

  I saw the magic as a subtle glow through the trees at first. It cast a haunting light and made the dark woods dance as though on fire. As I approached the house I could see more of it; ribbons of red energy like infected flesh winding through the air and descending on the mansion. It covered the house, surrounding and filling it, a malignant tumor on the countryside.

  I broke out of the trees and kept going, forgetting that only I could see the magic. Everyone else could see me running across open ground.

  The first shot missed, but not by much. I pivoted, aiming my headlong dash at the fountain. I threw myself to the ground as another shot rang out from the house. Gravel leapt into the air near my head.

  I was being an idiot, forgetting to check my surroundings, to plan my movements. I was forgetting my training.

  I had to get to the house and I was under fire. I couldn’t even see where the attacks were coming from.

  I closed my eyes and focused, blocking out the bright world and the pounding of my heart. A picture slowly formed in my head of my surroundings, built half from memories and old blueprints, and half from the sounds I could hear.

  A plane flew overhead. Something ran across the gravel and onto the grass behind me, startled by the gunshots. An animal put a foot wrong in the woods and stepped on a fallen branch or twig, snapping it. A bird on the roof shifted position and scraped its claws across the tiles.

  No, not a bird. Too heavy for a bird. Too slow and methodical.

  I put my hand up and brought it down again a moment before another shot went off. I was up before the first echo reached me, my pistol drawn and firing at my attacker.

  I ducked, smiling as someone fell and bounced off a car I couldn’t see.

  I was up and running immediately, heading for the cover of the car and making it a half second before another shot went off. This was a smaller weapon like my pistol. I rose and fired at the front door and someone screamed in pain.

  I made it to the house on my next sprint but I had to open my eyes. The light of Foster’s magic crawled into my head, covered me, overpowering my briefly heightened senses. I hit the outside wall of the house and found myself behind the flow of energy.

  I headed for the side of the house and the servants’ entrance, ducking under windows as I went. If there was anyone inside watching for me, they wouldn’t have long to fire before I was gone. Nobody did and I made it to the door without hearing another shot.

  It was unlocked and I entered with my gun up and ready. The small kitchen was empty and I couldn’t see anyone in the corridor beyond. I moved slowly, anyway, not wanting to repeat my earlier blunder. I entered the corridor and moved toward the far end, and the entrance hall.

  A head appeared in the opening of the far doorway and I fired without thinking. A man fell back, dead before he knew it.

  Gunfire down the corridor, and I burst through a side door to avoid it. I was briefly in a laundry room before leaving via the opposite door, entering a well-appointed corridor with a plush carpet that muffled my footsteps.

  For a moment I had no idea where to go. I’d been taken to a room upstairs but that didn’t mean Foster would be completing his ritual there. Then I noticed the energy all around me, diffused within the walls of the house. It traveled as though on a breeze, and I followed it down the corridor to a small wooden door near the end. The energy flowed through it as though it wasn’t there.

  Another man entered the corridor from the laundry and I twisted in time to hit him before he could fire. He went down with a cry, wounded but not dead. I ignored him and opened the door, then took the stairs leading down.

  The basement, which certainly fit the description of a lair. There was no light but I still had the magic all around me, casting flickering shadows as I stepped into the empty stone room at the base of the stairs.

  There was no Foster, and no guards. The only thing waiting for me was a solid table and the dagger he’d used on Mouse. The energy was flowing toward it. Into it. It now gave off a soft glow and seemed to be hovering a few inches above the table.

  I approached it slowly, unsure what to do now that I’d descended into a dead end with enemies at my back. I could take the dagger, but would it matter? Was this something he needed, or just something Claire had taken a special interest in?

  There was blood on the iron blade, a fresh coating that covered older blood I hadn’t noticed before. It was so faded it almost wasn’t there, but in the light of the magic flowing into the room and into the metal I could see it now.

  I heard the footsteps on the wooden stairs before they saw me. I moved back to the staircase and slipped under it. When the first feet came into view between the stairs, I waited.

  A second set descended and I raised my pistol and fired. The bullet burst through the second man’s ankle before entering the first man in the back. They both went down at once and ended up in a tangled mess at the foot of the stairs. I stepped out of hiding and fired a shot into each of their heads. For good measure, I fired up the stairs, as well.

  Nobody followed the dead men and I returned to the dagger. If there were more people in the house, they’d get up the nerve to enter at some point, and I needed to do something, so I reached out and grabbed the hilt.

  It squirmed away from me like a snake, dropping back to the table. The movement sent a shiver through the energy flowing into the room. I tried to pick it up again only to have it fall out of my hand again. The thud as it hit the table was amplified until it sounded like thunder.

  “That’s enough from you,” I said, more to say something than because I thought the blade was going to listen to me. “You do as you’re told and we’ll get on just fine.”

  I reached out again and it avoided my grasping hand as easily as before.

  “Oh, well,” I said, as though I actually thought it would work.

  I pulled the small bag from my back and laid it on the table, then used one of my own knives to push the dagger inside. There was no squirming this time, just a static shock that traveled up my knife and into my arm.

  Someone was waiting for me at the top of the stairs, a silhouette standing in the way of the magic. The man must have thought I couldn’t see him and he made no effort to avoid my gunfire. He went down quietly.

  I pulled my Blackberry out and called Claire. The call was answered on the first ring.

  “I’ve got the stupid dagger, but I—”

  “And I’ve got your stupid god,” Foster said on the other end. “Want to trade?”

  Chapter 21

  It was so unexpected that I stood there in silence for a few seconds before replying.

  “Keep her,” I said as calmly as I was able to. “I hear they grow back if you kill them.”

  Foster laughed. “Too true, like weeds. You should have taken me up on my offer. I think we would have worked well together.”

  “Maybe, but it would have been hard not to punch you in your smug face constantly.”

  “Every job has its problems.” He laughed again but cut it o
ff unnaturally. “My men are going to come down the stairs and I expect you to cooperate with them.”

  “I expect you can bite me.”

  “I don’t think I could kill Beyahn, anyway, but I’m pretty sure I could take care of little Patty.” He stopped talking, and I had nothing to say. No comeback, no nonchalant comment. He let the silence stretch for a few seconds. “Do what I want, and do it politely. Deal?”

  I had no idea what the right course of action was. If I thought keeping the dagger from him might stop the fighting in Littleton that Claire had seen, I would have sacrificed both of them, but I knew that wasn’t the case. I had to kill him to pull that off and I didn’t know where he was. Giving him the dagger would probably let him complete whatever he was doing and summon whatever had a god scared, but it also meant I’d be in the room with him. I had a better chance of taking care of him if I could see him.

  “Deal, but I bring it to you.”

  “I expected nothing else.” He hung up and I let the hand holding my Blackberry fall to my side. I stood in silence and waited, the magic swirling around me on its way to the dagger. A minute of waiting and another silhouette appeared at the top of the stairs.

  “Hurry up,” I called out. “I’m bored with killing you people.”

  Three men descended the stairs, two with pistols and one with an automatic rifle, all pointed at me. The rifle guy stayed back while the other two approached me slowly. They didn’t look happy.

  The one on the left reached for the bag and I pulled it away just as the other one punched me in the face. I dropped to the ground in preparation for a counter, but stopped myself before taking out more of Foster’s men. He wanted me to be polite, which I took to mean take my beating and smile. So I did.

  The backpack was torn from my shoulder a moment before the kicking started. I took it as well as I could, protecting myself where possible. But they kept at it, over and over, and the pain was getting worse. Wounds that had barely healed reopened and muscles tore again. They got my face, and blood exploded from my nose as electricity tore through my brain.

  Mercifully, the world faded away after that one.

  I woke up in the back of one of Foster’s black BMWs. I’d bled all over the leather seat and the thought of his cleaning bill made me smile. Something had to.

  I pushed myself up and into the path of a silenced pistol held by the passenger in the front. An ugly man grinned at me over the barrel.

  “Stay quiet and we won’t hurt you no more,” he said. “Make a fuss and I’ll happily put a bullet in your head.”

  “As you wish, boss.” I sat up and checked where we were, then almost wished I hadn’t.

  We were passing Littleton, weaving between the cop cars whose lights were still flashing as though to illuminate the carnage. Townspeople and the new thugs who’d invaded the place lay together on the hard packed earth, blood coating everything. There were deputies mixed in with them but not many. It looked like the sheriff had arrived and opened fire on everyone equally.

  The flow of magic had come from here, and it was still coming, rising from nearly half the bodies and rushing toward the car, or toward the bag that must have been in the trunk of the car.

  The BMW took its time, allowing the dagger to soak up as much of the energy as it wanted before pulling away and leaving the result of all Foster’s work behind.

  “You like that?” the ugly goon in the front said. “That’s what we do when we want something. That’s what you tried to stop.”

  “That?” I tried to put on a brave face, but I wasn’t feeling it. “That looks a lot like the actions of people too afraid to do their own dirty work.”

  It was weak, but I was a little beat up. I had a broken rib and I could feel it scraping every time I took a breath. That kind of thing throws you off your game.

  The goon snorted and turned to check where they were going. I could have taken the gun from his hands and then taken the car and the dagger from them. Easily. I could have freed myself and run, but then I would have no idea where Foster was and no way to save Claire or Patty.

  So I stayed where I was and let them drive me, sitting in a puddle of my own drying blood.

  We followed the roads I’d driven on earlier that day, making each turn I’d made until we arrive in Midway.

  “Surprised?” the ugly goon said. “We doubled back after you were gone. Must have missed you by a minute, but we got the girls.” The way he said “girls” made me twitch with a barely controlled desire to break him.

  The town was still empty of inhabitants. It was a movie set after filming had stopped for the day, or one of those towns the army built for field exercises. A pretend place, not one where real people had lived just a few hours earlier. Now those real people were dead or arrested, all because one man wanted it to be so.

  I really wanted to see Foster dead.

  We came to a stop outside the bank, a short way from the open front doors.

  “Your target is in the basement,” the ugly goon said. It took me a moment to notice the dead expression on his face, the impression of something hiding behind his features.

  “Why don’t you just take care of this?” I asked.

  “For reasons you wouldn’t understand.” The man dropped the gun on the seat beside me. “Take care of these men and go do your job.”

  The other man turned to face me, his demeanor different to the being I’d been speaking to since it tried to pick me up on the highway. This goon was also clearly possessed, but it was equally clear it was by a different entity.

  “Remember to have fun,” the man said. “You’re going to die in there and I’d hate to think you went out without enjoying yourself.”

  “There’s two of you,” I replied, looking down at the gun. “And you still can’t muster up the courage to take care of this yourself.”

  “You don’t want us to rectify this situation,” the first one said. “It isn’t in anyone’s best interests.”

  “Nuke from orbit?”

  “Something like that.” They both turned to face forward. “It is time to escape, Merikh.”

  I took the silenced pistol and used it on the men.

  The trunk of the car had my stuff, including the backpack with the dagger. I quickly replaced everything Foster’s men had removed and slung the pack on my back before closing the trunk and turning to consider my approach.

  The bank was older than the town around it and built to withstand anything. Solid, thick, stone walls and a vault that was built to ignore dynamite. There was no rear entrance or sneaky way in, and the main room of the bank had great sightlines for any gun-wielding men waiting for an attack.

  In short, it was a building designed to keep people from getting in. Big surprise.

  Something had been added to accommodate modern sensibilities, though, something to make HR happier with the business and to stop anyone from suing. In the summer the building was great, its high ceilings and the materials used in its construction creating a cool, cave-like environment. In winter though, the place must have been a frozen hell.

  So to make everyone happy they’d tunneled through the walls and installed a central heating system. Nothing that would compromise the security of the vault, of course. But they hadn’t been able to get the condensers on the roof without going through the inside of the bank, and that had left a weakness.

  These are the kind of things you notice when you’re always working out how to kill everyone without getting caught. My head is a weird place sometimes.

  I ran around the side of the building and to the back. The outer wall had ornate ledges in bands from the ground to the roof, perfect for climbing. When the building was first put up there was never any thought given to someone cutting a giant hole in it someday, so nobody had thought to make it harder to reach the top.

  I clambered up quickly and without incident, though I was covered in sweat when I finally pulled myself over the edge and away from the fall. The broken rib was a constant, te
aring pain, but I blocked it out. I could deal with the damage later.

  The night air was humid and heavy, weighing on me with every movement. I was excited to get inside just to get out of the residual heat from the day.

  The magic streaming from Littleton had followed the dagger and I was surrounded by that organic, red light. Enough to see where I was going. It occurred to me briefly that if anyone else could see the energy I was screwed, lit up like a beacon. But, I reasoned, there was nothing I could do about it, so my subconscious should shut up and let me do my job.

  My subconscious agreed, and I made my way to the giant condensers in the middle of the flat roof. In theory, they could be used as air conditioners as well as heaters, but I didn’t think anyone had ever bothered.

  They were bolted to the roof, all their piping and electrical work hidden beneath the metal plate that covered the hole I wanted. I reached into my bag of tricks and pulled out my Sawzall. It was a cordless reciprocating saw; kind of like a large and really powerful electric meat carving knife.

  I attached the blade and found a spot where rust had eaten through the plate. I set the Sawzall in position and hit the button to turn it on.

  The sound of that small blade biting into the metal was enough to wake people up in Greenridge. I was deaf in a few seconds.

  I kept cutting for a few more seconds, then leaned the saw against one of the condensers. I wrapped a cable tie around the trigger and then used more to attach it to the condenser. The wall of sound coming from the metal plate diminished when I stopped actually cutting, but it would still be enough to get everyone’s attention inside.

  I ran to the side of the building and started to climb down, the sound of my distraction still echoing in my ears as the pain in my chest flared, as though in concert.

  Gunfire sounded from within the bank as I ran for the front doors. Someone had been stupid and tried to shoot up into the ceiling where the noise was coming from.

  I stopped when I came to the doors, took a breath, and risked a look inside.