Born of Shadow (Shadow Walkers Book 1)

by Richard Murray

  It had said that it could smell me, smell some difference that marked me out as not quite human. Perhaps, when it touched me, that distortion was my way of seeing its difference. I glanced over to Abe and decided I’d ask him about it.

  “We’re here,” he said before I could speak and as he slowed the van, I glanced through the window.

  Fields, trees and rising hills all around us were all I could see. We were on a winding road, wide enough for one vehicle at a time with moss covered walls and overgrown bushes running alongside. A short distance along the road, a wide gate of wrought iron was set into the wall.

  It opened as we approached, sliding to one side silently by means of some hidden mechanism and the van turned smoothly into a wide driveway. Wider than the road we’d just been on.

  At the end of the driveway was a house, more of a mansion in fact. It was certainly larger than any house I’d ever called home and I was pretty sure that my current home was smaller than the entranceway.

  The van pulled to a stop on the gravelled drive and Abe gestured for me to get out as he turned off the engine and climbed out himself.

  My feet crunched on the gravel as I dropped down and as I wondered where the hell we were, the front doors of the mansion opened wide. A heavyset woman in a purple cardigan and ankle length, floral skirt waved me forward.

  She had a wide, welcoming smile and round face with a hawk-like nose that seemed totally at odds. Her hair, swept up in a bun, was fading to grey and she wore enough jewellery to be assured of imminent robbery if she ever walked down the street near my bedsit.

  “Abraham,” she said in a voice that was so smooth as to be almost sensual. It was the type of voice you could listen to as you sank into a comfortable and relaxing slumber. “It’s been too long.”

  “Marie,” he greeted with a nod.

  “Is this the young lady you spoke to me about?” she asked and I blinked. He’d spoken to someone about me?

  “Aye, best get inside,” he said. “Things have become awkward.”

  “Of course. Come on in, Peter is waiting.”

  She moved to the side, one hand on the door to hold it open as she ushered us inside. I followed after Abe and tried not to gawp at the house.

  Everything seemed so clean, in a way that I knew my place never would. The hardwood floors positively gleamed while the brass fittings around the lights, even those over the framed art, appeared golden, they were that polished.

  A patterned carpet in red and gold rose up the centre of the stairs that led up to the next floor and once again, I was fairly certain that any one piece of the delicate looking furniture would cost more than I paid in rent for the year.

  It was the sort of furniture and decorative art that would be handed down for generations. Expensive as hell and made to last forever, unlike the stuff I bought. I was at once jealous and at the same time, terrified of touching anything lest I leave a mark or god forbid, break something.

  Marie led us along a side hallway and into a room that I guessed to be some sort of study. The walls were all wood paneled and mahogany bookcases filled all available space. An elaborately carved fireplace was set into the center of the far wall, while several leather upholstered chairs were placed around the room.

  A man sat behind a desk, his back to a window that rose all the way to the ceiling. The view through the window was breath-taking, rolling hills and fields beyond the immaculate garden with all manner of brightly coloured flowers.

  The man, I assumed was Peter, looked up as we entered. Watery eyes stared out from behind thick glasses. His skin was blotchy and hung loose as though he’d lost a great deal of weight lately. The top of his head seemed to rise through his hair, rather than his hair receding.

  He studied us as Marie closed the door quietly behind us and with a quick, almost abrupt gesture, he indicated we take a seat before him.

  “Been a long time Abraham,” the old man said in a voice that quavered with age.

  “Nearly twenty years,” Abe agreed.

  “Should have been longer,” Peter said with a sneer. “What do you want?”

  “This girl,” he said and indicated me. “She’s different.”

  “Different how?”

  “She’s Shadowborn.”

  I looked at Abe and my surprise must have been plain to see because the old man let out a guffaw and snorted.

  “Didn’t tell her?” Peter said. “Typical of you and your need for secrets.”

  Abe shrugged, not at all repentant and said, “I’d have told her today but a ghoul noticed her.”

  “Pfah, dirty creatures. I take it you saw it off?”

  “She did.”

  The old man turned his attention to me fully and a crease appeared on his brow. He rapped the desk with the knuckles of his right hand and nodded slowly.

  “How?” he asked.

  I opened my mouth to answer, but he’d already turned his gaze back to Abe and I shut it as I crossed my arms beneath my breasts and sank further down into the chair with a pout.

  “Darkness flowed from her hands,” Abe said softly and the old man flicked his glance back towards me, appraising. “Burnt out the ghoul’s eyes, filled its throat and wrapped it tight. Then she threw it across several metres of concrete.”

  “Powerful,” Peter muttered. “A long time since one of her type has been seen.”

  “One of what kind?” I asked and both men turned to me.

  “Your father was a demon, girl,” the old man said with a cackle.

  “A demon?” I asked. “Really? Does that mean I’m evil? Am I the only one?”

  “Not that uncommon,” he said with a wave. “You’re no evil now than you were five minutes ago, so if you weren’t then, you aren’t now.”

  “Yeah, but a demon? My dad was a demon… from hell?”

  “There are different types of demon,” Abe said. “Most, when they claw their way out of hell, need a body. They possess someone and go on a rampage of rape, murder and the rest.”

  “My dad didn’t do that…”

  “Your dad wasn’t your father,” Peter said dismissively. “He raised you, but a demon sired you on your mother.”

  “You’re saying one of these… things, possessed someone and…”

  “Not necessarily,” Abe interrupted. “Not all demons go wild, some of the older ones come to this reality for a specific purpose. They’re summoned and are usually much more controlled.”

  “Older,” the old man added. “Think, before the Fall, type of older.”

  “The Fall?”

  “The war in heaven girl! Do you know nothing?”

  “Careful,” Abe said to him warningly before turning back to me. “It took me a while because I wasn’t sure of your powers.”

  “Powers?”

  “Yes.” He sighed and ran one hand through his hair before scratching at his chin and looking to the old man for support. He got none. “Anyone born of a union between human and demon will be born with some gifts. Occasionally useful, usually destructive.”

  “The sort of gift that gets you noticed by Hunters,” the old man added.

  “Indeed,” Abe said. “Those sired by demons usually have some problems associated with their origin. It can lead to some lack of control.”

  “You’ve been having nightmares?” The old man asked and I nodded.

  “For years though.”

  “Worse now, heh?”

  “Yes,” I admitted.

  “From what I’ve seen of your gifts,” Abe continued. “The demon that sired you must have been incredibly ancient.”

  “Which means what?”

  “That it had enough control and a purpose, that your mother wasn’t raped,” he said. “The demon may have possessed your dad, or someone else, but the union was probably consensual.”

  “Okay,” I said. “You’re trying to make me feel a little better, I get it.”

  “Not just that,�
�� the old man said and cackled loudly. “It means that you won’t have that same infectious chaos of the wilder demons. You’re less likely to go out on a killing spree like they would be.”

  “Oh.”

  It was a great deal to take in and I knew I’d need some time to fully process it. One thing I did need to know was what it meant for me in the immediate future.

  “The hunters will have no need to come for you,” Abe said as though reading my mind. “Even we acknowledge that the Shadowborn can be useful.”

  “You’ve said that before,” I said. “Shadowborn, what does it mean?”

  “Demons are creatures of the chaos realms,” the old man said. “When they come to this reality, they lose their physical bodies and become little more than malevolent shadows. That’s why they need to possess humans to make their mischief. Anyone birthed by them are called Shadowborn in reference to their sire’s form.”

  “So what now? How are Shadowborn useful?”

  “Many of the monsters out there can pass for human,” Abe said. “Some of them, like the ghoul you met, have means of detecting other supernatural creatures. Shadowborn have something similar.”

  “Like when it touched me and I saw its face change?”

  “Eh?” Peter said. “What’s this?”

  I explained about the change I had seen and how I thought it was because it was touching me that I could see it. He listened intently and nodded several times, finally speaking as I finished.

  “Yes, yes, that’s it alright. With time and practice, you might be able to see the difference without needing to touch them.”

  “But for now,” Abe said. “If you’re close enough to touch them, they’re close enough to harm you.”

  “So I need to improve, get stronger?” I asked as I looked from one man to the other. “But why? To defend myself?”

  “Not all hunters follow the same creed,” the old man said. “Some will just see your difference and try to kill you anyway. Other supernaturals will see your power and want to use it or destroy it. Either way, just by reaching a certain age you become a target.”

  “Certain age?”

  “Twenty-one,” Abe said. “Most of the Shadowborn fully come into their power between eighteen and twenty-one. You’re almost there aren’t you?”

  “Next month,” I agreed. “I turn twenty-one next month.”

  “There’s another reason too,” Abe said softly as the door opened behind us and Marie came in with a tray bearing a tea service and cups. “The creature that killed your parents is out there. Most who survive such an attack tend to gravitate towards hunting. Usually for revenge.”

  “About that,” I said. “I remembered the name.”

  “What was it?” Abe asked as he leaned toward me. There was an eagerness there that I hadn’t seen before and a desperation that even the old man picked up judging by the strange look he was giving the other man.

  “Sephtis,” I said and saw the colour drain from Abe’s face as the crash of a tray being dropped echoed around the room.

  Chapter 6

  They were still arguing several hours later as the sun dropped low in the sky and evening fast approached. At least I assumed they were still arguing, there was plenty of shouting going on but I had been unceremoniously banished to another part of the great house. To say I was annoyed was a vast understatement.

  Sephtis, a name that seemingly inspired strong feelings in the three of them. I had no idea why, but I would find out. That was for certain. Of course, I had no real plan of how I would find out, but determination to do something was always a good place to start or so I had found.

  I sank further into the upholstered armchair, my foot tapping an absent beat on the polished floor. It wasn’t the most comfortable chair I had ever sat in, but I’d decided that staying in it meant that I wouldn’t wander around the room and break something that I couldn’t possibly afford to replace.

  The room I’d been banished to was absolutely filled to the brim with expensive objects that seemed to complement each other in an aesthetically pleasing way, even though they were all different. Whoever had decorated obviously had great taste and an eye for detail.

  When I thought back to my little bedsit with the beginnings of damp showing in the corners of the walls. The clothes bunched up and tossed to one side until I could visit Evie and use her washing machine, rather than the launderette which cost money, and the general dinginess it held. I was a little embarrassed, to say the least.

  Since no one seemed to be coming to check on me anytime soon, I pulled out my mobile and after several minutes of debate with myself. I turned it on. A short wait for it to come to life fully and it began to beep as message after message was delivered to the inbox.

  Most of them were from Evie of course. The earliest ones asking why I wasn’t going to meet her, why I wasn’t responding, why I wasn’t at my bedsit. The tone changed then to, why were the police knocking on my door, why were the police looking for me and so on. Repeated requests to call her back as soon as possible and then finally a text from work.

  I snapped off a quick text to Evie promising to call later and explain, then set my phone down and sighed. It wasn’t like I needed the job anyway. Except to pay my rent, buy the occasional meal and the booze that helped me drown out the nightmares. Crap!

  “Sorry,” Marie said as the door opened and she stepped through. “Those two will be arguing for a while yet.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked, pulling myself up so that I wasn’t looking quite so slovenly.

  “It’s a long story and not mine to tell,” she said with a pensive look towards the far room where the two men argued still. “All I can say is that you gave them the last possible name they would have wanted to hear.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Not your fault dear,” she said and plastered on the bright smile of a woman who had long practice in putting on a brave face in front of guests.

  “Not sure what I’m supposed to be doing,” I said with a wave at my phone. “Seems I have some trouble back home that I need to sort out but I’ve no idea where I am.”

  “Oh don’t worry about that,” she said as she waved her hand before her as though swatting at flies or swatting away my problems. “You can stay the night here and listen to them argue or you can come with me and visit some people.”

  “What people?” It was hard to keep the suspicion from my tone and from the way her smile tightened, I guess I’d failed. It’s just someone had tried to kill me once already today and that was the second attempt in two weeks, which was two more than I’d had since that night all those years ago. I felt slightly justified in feeling suspicious.

  “Why, people like you,” she said and clasped her hands together before her. “Shadowborn.

  “Sure,” I said with undisguised eagerness and Marie beamed. To meet others like myself, to not feel so freakishly out of place. Well, that would be a rather pleasant turn of events.

  I followed her out to the driveway. A silver BMW had been parked beside Abe’s ratty old van and Marie gestured for me to get in. It smelt almost brand new inside and I had a sudden realisation of what people meant when they talked about that new car smell.

  The other woman smiled as she pulled on her seatbelt and started the car. She looked pointedly at me until I reached for my own seatbelt and then with a nod, she set off.

  “Where are we anyway?” I asked as drove along the driveway and turned left out of the gate. The opposite direction to the one we’d come earlier.

  “Near Ilkley,” she said as she kept her eyes fixed firmly on the road.

  “Oh, I know that place,” I said. “It’s a spa town isn’t it?”

  “Yes, lots of tourists visit us,” she agreed. “Peter and me, we tend to avoid it these days. Too many strangers.”

  “He doesn’t seem to like people,” I said and she let out a bright peal of laughter.

  “Oh no, he certainly do
es not,” she said. “Most old hunters are like that.”

  “Hunter! Like Abe?” I asked as I thought back to the scrawny old man. He’d looked barely strong enough to hold himself upright, let alone fight monsters.

  “Of course dear. We both were once upon a time, not for many years now though.”

  I appraised the older woman as I digested that. Without sounding like a total bitch, she didn’t look the type to have been fighting monsters either. She saw me watching her and her smile became a grin.

  “It isn’t hard to know what you’re thinking young lady,” she said and heat coloured my cheeks.

  “Sorry.”

  “Not to worry,” she said. “I was much like you once. Young, brash and unable to see past the ‘now.’ That changes though.”

  “It does?”

  “Sometimes events happen that make you realise what’s important and when you lose that… well, that changes you too.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. The pain in her voice was unmistakable and no matter how curious I was as to what had happened in her life, what tragedy had befallen her, I wasn’t going to press.

  “Nothing to be sorry for, dear,” she said but didn’t elaborate and we spent the rest of the car journey in silence.

  It was fully dark by the time we were back in the city. Not Leeds, the city I called home, but Manchester. With a population of half a million people, it was an easy place to get lost in. I’d considered it myself many times over my troubled teenage years.

  Marie drove through the streets with confidence. She obviously knew them well and had travelled them many times. I settled back and stared out the window, watching the people walking by.

  Friday night in the city was a raucous time. Students from the university in short dresses that barely covered their ass would be out looking for a good time. Drinks with friends, dancing and maybe meet a guy to exchange hot, fevered kisses and maybe a little something more.

  Men and women, freed from the daily grind of their working week, perhaps with a babysitter at home to watch the kids, they’d be out too. Stop for a meal with friends or maybe just date night together. A night free from kids and responsibility where they could have a drink and watch the younger people around them as they reminisced about the fun they had when they were that young and stupid.