Ender of Worlds: A Morgan Rook Supernatural Thriller (The Order of Shadows Book 4)

by Kit Hallows

  The old trucks in the lot served as good cover as I ran toward the building. Sprinting low, I made my way to the rusted ladder that ran up to the roof, shivering as my fingers brushed the wall behind it. It buzzed with the ghosts from the past, echoes of the animals that had been slaughtered here. The place was steeped in their panic and terror as well as the slow descent into decay and despair that arose after a new corporate-backed operation set up shop just two blocks away, putting Fink and Sons out of business.

  It was little wonder the vampires had been drawn to this mournful place, and soon after they’d moved in the terror and blood ran anew, but the slaughter was focused on an entirely different species now.

  I climbed the ladder slowly, to prevent my sword from rattling against the rungs. The vampire’s senses were far more acute than mine and even the slightest mistake could catch their attention.

  An icy breeze stirred as I stepped out onto the roof and heavy clouds obscured the sliver of moon. The vampires hadn’t budged since I’d spotted them from the street.

  I crept toward the one in the chair. He was short, stocky and the scars and bruises on the back of his neck told me he’d been in plenty of scrapes. It would be easy to run him through with my sword, but such cowardice wasn’t in my blood. I pulled a cosh from my bag, lined with fragments of silver and iron to knock him out and take care of any magical protection he’d placed over himself before nap time.

  Before I struck, I glanced back into the darkness below. There was no sign of Astrid, Samuel or Feist. I hoped that was a good thing, and that Samuel was watching as I brought the cosh down over the back of the vampire’s head. He gave a short hiss and sank deeper into his chair.

  His friend gazed up from his phone and growled. The bloodsucker’s eyes flashed as he pulled a knife from his belt and took aim to throw it, when an arrow whizzed by its head. Samuel’s arrow.

  He’d missed.

  Shit.

  The vampire lunged and slashed his knife at my chest. My coat repelled the blade but I staggered as I brought my cosh down on the side of his face. He tottered back and opened his mouth to call out a warning, but the only thing that slipped past his fangs was a strangled gasp as a glistening arrow pierced his throat. I lowered the dead creature to the ground quietly and waited.

  Moments later Samuel appeared silently at my side. “Astrid and the old freak found the door to the warehouse around the back,” he said. “They’ll wait for us to clear any hostiles from the upper levels, then we’ll strike the heart of the lair together. There’s a large gathering in an open space on the ground level. They seem preoccupied with drinking and smoking from what I could tell, so they should be easy to take out.”

  “Providing your arrows fly true,” I said, smiling to show I was joking.

  “Sorry about that,” Samuel said. “It’s pretty dark, and I think I may have sobered up too. Which never helps.”

  We made our way to the access door. It was unlocked and moments later we crept down a flight of wooden steps.

  Music blared as I glanced down over the landing to the ground floor. Ramshackle tables had been arranged into a rough square and eight or so vampires were sitting around drinking beer, wine and what may have been absinthe, while the pungent scent of weed wafted through the air. It seemed they weren’t as disciplined as Astrid had initially thought or, more worryingly, they were damned confident. I hoped it was the former.

  I glanced to the head of the table where a woman with silvery hair leaned back in her chair reading a paperback. A long scar ran down the side of her cold, pretty face. “I take it she’s the one you ran into last time?” I asked.

  “Yup. How do you want to proceed?” Samuel whispered.

  I nodded to the second floor landing just below us. It was a large open plan office and, except for the elderly vampire watching an old-fashioned television at one of the desks, it appeared to be empty. “I’ll get rid of him,” I said. “Take a position and get ready to thin out the group below. Except for her of course,” I glanced toward Castle as she turned another page of her book.

  “Got it.” Samuel vanished into the shadows as I made my way down the flight of steps and slipped through the office. The vampire didn’t notice. He was engrossed in a documentary about the Galápagos Islands, which seemed like a bizarre point of interest for a vampire considering all the sunshine. I ducked through the room as he marveled at the salt-sneezing iguanas and bashed him over the head. Once I was certain he wasn’t going to be getting up any time soon, I returned to the landing.

  I had a better vantage point of the room below, and a bird’s eye view of the greasy haired vampire below me. He was stooped over a teenage girl sprawled out on a butcher’s block and her glassy eyes stared up at me as he fed.

  Rage roared through me and I felt my other stir, as if drawn to my fury. “Fuck it,” I whispered as I grabbed a knuckleduster from my bag and strapped it on. I climbed onto the rail and crouched to steady myself.

  I dropped, smashing my fist into the back of the vampire’s skull as I hit the ground. The crack that rang out was sickening, but he deserved every bit of the pain. I placed my gloved hand over his mouth as he collapsed to the ground and yanked his head to the side until his neck cracked.

  The girl on the chopping block lay still, her eyes lifeless. I pulled a dusty old sheet from the floor and draped it over her as I glanced to the landing above to find Samuel poised in the shadows. He had an arrow notched and aimed at the table below and he nodded to me. I scoured the rest of the packing room until I spotted a glint of steel. It was the dagger, clutched in Astrid’s hand. She began to mouth something to me but stopped as Feist strode past her and stepped boldly into the room.

  Brilliant.

  Tables and chairs squealed as the vampires jumped to their feet.

  “Fuck you vermin,” Feist shouted, his voice echoing around the room. He shook his meat cleaver toward Castle as she set her book down. “I told you I’d be back. And here I am you filthy bastards.”

  “Didn’t we make things clear enough for you last time?” The vampire beside Castle asked. He raised his beer bottle to throw it at Feist but an arrow pierced his chest and the bottle shattered on the table as he collapsed to the floor.

  “You see!” Feist called, as Castle and the others peered up at the landing, searching for the archer. “I didn’t come alone. Now I have army!”

  Idiot.

  Feist slapped the flat of the cleaver against his breast and for a moment his mask slipped, revealing the repulsive creature beneath, his preternatural flesh glowing grotesquely in the gloom.

  “Perfect,” I muttered as I stepped from the shadows and called to Castle. “We just want some information, that’s all.” I glanced at Feist. “We're not interested in your vendettas, just answers.”

  All eyes turned to me, but I ignored their hypnotic pull and kept my focus on Castle as she said, “Morgan Rook.”

  I’d never heard of her prior to Samuel and Astrid’s encounter, but it seemed she’d heard of me.

  “You’re with Feist?” she asked.

  “No. Like I said, I’m just here for answers.”

  “I heard about your tangle with Tudor,” Castle said, and gave me a crooked smile. “A lot of people are upset about that. Personally, I think you did us a favor. The Crimson Eye has long been a thorn in our side. But, it seems you’ve set your sights on us now.” she stared as she pulled a small ax from the table, “You’re crazy if you think you can waltz into my place with that doddering old husk, demand answers, and expect to walk out alive.”

  “I told you they wouldn’t talk!” Feist sounded elated, and then he lunged for the closest vampire and grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt. With a grimace, Feist hacked the cleaver into the vampire’s throat, adding a fine spray of blood to the gruesome stains on his shirt. “Come!” he cried. “Let’s finish this!”

  I pulled my sword as a vampire charged me, bottle in hand. Before I could strike, the blood sucker broke apart, the
n reassembled by my side and cracked the bottle over my head. I stumbled back and swung my blade, lopping its hand off before it could shank me with the broken glass.

  A violent uproar filled the place and everything around me became a whir of motion.

  I glanced back as another vampire lunged but before it could raise the bonesaw in its hand, it fell with an arrow quivering from its back.

  Bang!

  The round ricocheted off my magical armor. The vampire that shot at me looked confused, then she raised her gun to my head and tightened her finger on the trigger.

  7

  I leaped aside as the gun roared. The bullet shot past my head and struck the wall behind me. Before I could get my bearings the vampire’s eyes went wide and Astrid was standing behind her, her brow creased with effort. The vampire convulsed as blood painted her lips, and then she fell to her knees and slumped to the floor.

  “Astrid!” I shouted as another vampire swept toward her in a cloud of motes. He slashed at her with his knife but I fired, taking him down before he reached her.

  Astrid vanished into the gloom but I could see the silvery flash of a throwing dagger as she pulled it from the sheath near her ankle.

  I turned back as Feist roared and charged into the fray, his meat cleaver hoisted high over his head like a demented knight of old. Helena Castle was hot on his heels, ax in hand. She moved toward Feist with quick, purposeful steps.

  I ran to cross the room to impede her attack, but before I could reach them Castle swung the ax. Then she dropped it, an arrow protruding from the back of her hand.

  The dark green fletching quivered as she glanced up to where Samuel stood perched on the railing, notching another arrow.

  I spun round as a huge vampire with leathery wings swooped in toward Astrid who was fighting off one of its brethren. I fired, taking it down, while she dispatched the other with her blades. She nodded to me and a slow, silent calm began to fall over the place.

  Castle’s face grew somber as she took in the scene. Her entire brood was either dead, or dying. Feist stepped triumphantly over the writhing bodies, pausing only long enough to finish them off. “Let’s talk Helena,” I said, pulling out a chair for her.

  “Coward,” she replied. She winced, gritting her teeth as she pulled the arrow from her hand. “You’re all cowards. Attacking from the shadows-”

  “Are you suggesting that you gave all of your victims a sporting chance,” I said, nodding to the teenage girl slumped over the butcher block. “That doesn’t look like a fair fight to me.”

  “Go fuck yourself, Rook. You and your Organization. You don’t run things, not anymore.”

  “I’ll crack her head open if you like,” Feist said, “and you can scoop out her secrets like sweet golden yolk.”

  “I might just have to take you up on the offer, Mr. Feist,” I shoved Castle and she fell into the chair behind her. “Or she could just tell me about Endersley.”

  A flicker passed through her eyes. Fear? Maybe. But within moments her contempt resurfaced. “Do whatever you want, Morgan Rook, let’s see how tough you really are.”

  “I’m not one for torture.” I nodded to Feist. “But I’m pretty sure he is. Please, Mr. Feist, do what needs to be done. But keep her conscious, no yolk scooping.”

  I joined Samuel and Astrid at the far side of the room. As they conferred a series of short, brutal screams rang out behind me and I saw Samuel wince, then Astrid glanced my way with disapproval in her eyes. I shared it. This wasn’t something I condoned, but the clock was ticking.

  “Okay!” Castle finally shouted, her voice hoarse with agony. I turned back to find Feist holding her wrist to his mouth, his chin slick with blood. Castle’s eyes were rolling and she was almost as colorless as her hair.

  “Enough, Mr. Feist,” I said. “For now.”

  He dropped her hand and shot me a furious glance. And then he backed away, licking his fingers as he hunkered down beside the last twitching vampire and began to feed on it instead.

  “Endersley,” I said to Castle. “Why are you protecting him?”

  “That's what he hired us to do. He tracked us down, said he’d heard we could get things done,” Castle said. “I didn't exactly take him seriously at first but he had a flask of blood with him, blood the likes of which I’d never tasted before.” She gave a slight, ecstatic shiver. “It was not of this Earth. It was so pure! Like it had been drained from a fresh born.” She gave me a rueful smile. “And just like any other dealer, he was aiming to get us hooked. A sample and a promise of more if we provided him with protection and safe harbor while he conducted his experiments. So we agreed and whisked him away to one of our more discreet lairs.” She glanced at Astrid and Samuel. “Then they turned up and Endersley fled.”

  “To where?” I asked.

  “Who knows?” Castle shrugged, “But he said he’d be back, and that we’d be paid handsomely for looking after his keepsake.”

  “Keepsake?”

  She seemed as if she was about to respond, then her eyes were drawn to the gaze of the dead vampire slumped over the table across from her. She trembled and as I glanced over it was as if someone had thrown a bucket of iced water over me.

  The eyes that gazed back at us did not belong to the vampire. No, those cold, bright green watchful eyes belonged to someone else. They flitted from Castle to me and as they did, I felt my other stir.

  “Emeric?” The sound spilled as slow as tar from the dead vampire’s mouth, and as I heard it I knew where I’d seen those eyes before. They’d peered out from a painting as I’d investigated the crime scene of the Hexling’s first victim, and I’d run into them again in Galloway Asylum. They were Stroud’s eyes and it seemed I wasn’t the only one to recognize them, and that my other knew them too. And seemingly, much better than I did…

  “No!” Astrid cried.

  I broke Stroud’s gaze and glanced back to find Castle gripping a shard of brown glass so tightly her fingers ran red with blood.

  8

  Before I could move, Helena Castle slit her own throat and a fountain of blood streamed from her neck.

  I clamped my sleeve over the wound, but the cut was too deep. Her mind was fixed to some far off place but her eyes were locked onto the dead vampire’s as her entire body began to spasm. There was nothing I could do but hold on as her feet kicked out in shuttering jerks, and then she finally fell still in my arms.

  When I glanced back to the vampire’s corpse, its eyes were lifeless once more, Stroud was gone, his grim plan apparently accomplished.

  “What happened?” Astrid asked. She looked as shocked as I felt.

  “Stroud,” I said. “He was here, watching us through that dead vampire’s eyes.”

  “That would have taken a lot of power. He's growing stronger,” Astrid said.

  “Clearly he didn’t want us finding out what Endersley’s keepsake is.” Samuel said as he covered the vampire’s face with a coat he’d whisked off the back of a chair.

  “Which means we’ll have to search every inch of this place. Hopefully, whatever they were keeping for him is still here,” I said.

  I combed the offices above while Samuel and Astrid covered the ground floor. All I found was files and ledger books that extended back decades, and it seemed anything of value had long since been removed. Finally, I heard Astrid shout, “Here!”

  She was standing in a back room filled with rusting equipment, holding a tarp in her hands. Under it was a trapdoor, and I caught the glimmer of magic. Some kind of hexed barrier or deterrent. She held her hand in the air above it and there was a bright flash followed by a muffled crack. “Move aside,” Astrid said as she pulled a dagger and used the pommel to batter the padlock.

  “I could have picked that open with my magic fingers,” Samuel said.

  “I know,” Astrid said, “but where's the fun in that?” She tossed the broken padlock aside as she bent over to lift the hatch. It creaked open onto a flight of stairs that plunged into the
darkness below. The place reeked of mildew, damp and… terror. As we descended I shone my flashlight into the corners and almost jumped as the beam illuminated a man chained to a wall. He looked like someone that had been living out on the streets for decades and his eyes flashed with panic as they met mine.

  He began to shriek, his words unintelligible as they emerged in a long hoarse stream. Sweat gleamed on his forehead and it looked like most of his mousey grey hair had been ripped from his scalp.

  “Good gods.” Samuel shook his head. “Should I turn him loose, or do you want to check him over first?” He seemed genuinely unsettled.

  The man’s voice slowed as he repeated a single word, over and over again. “Please!”

  I carefully placed my hand on the side of his face as I attempted to read him and find out how he’d ended up in this horrendous place.

  There was nothing. Literally nothing at all. Where I’d usually get glimpses of a blinkered life, all I saw was endless empty darkness. “He’s…dead,” I said. I was about to pull my hand away when the man screamed, “Please!” and with that cry came a vivid snapshot of his life.

  Harold had been perfectly content bundled up his blanket in his regular spot beneath the overpass, at least until that man had found him. The man in the long dark coat. The man with the crazy salt and pepper hair and the drawn, ratty face… and those eyes… God how they’d bulged with fire, madness and festering insanity. Harold had seen plenty of mania over the years but nothing quite like that.

  He’d watched, frozen with panic and indecision, as the man had dug into the bag at his feet. It looked like a doctor’s bag to Harold, one of those old fashioned ones… the kind they had in the old Jack the Ripper movies. “Shhh,” the man had whispered as he held out a tiny ornate bottle of golden amber liquid. “Open it,” he’d said.

  Harold unscrewed the cap and the scent! Like honey. No, mead, and… something he didn’t recognize. But whatever it might have been, he knew it was potent. A clear promise of oblivion lurked within the scent, an oblivion he hadn’t reveled in since his good and terrible old days of meth and sweet hateful crack.