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

by Kit Hallows

  “Yes,” Lampton agreed, “I believe Sykes said he stole it from a princess. What of it?”

  “So that’s why you destroyed countless lives?” I asked as my patience finally began to wear thin. “Money?” I swept my hand around the room. “Seems like your family probably had more than enough already. Or at least they did once upon a time.”

  “We still have money,” Lampton barked. “And it was never about that anyway. It was a fuck you to the Organization and their ilk. Those who tell us what we can and cannot do, enforcing ham-fisted laws dreamed up by tedious little men. Plus having a way out of this tiresome place, should I need it, was more than appealing. But yeah, I took the money.”

  “It looks to me like it’s long gone,” I said, gesturing to the faded glamor surrounding him.

  “Well, the grandson needed it more than me.” He gave me a slow, impish smile. “Destroying civilizations is a costly business, I’ll have you know. I let Hugo take whatever he needed and kept just enough to eat and be merry.” His eyes fell upon the whiskey once more. I moved it away.

  Hugo. That was the little prick’s name? I could still picture his beady eyes as he’d lectured me at the Council meeting below Eveningside Station. “Who else came through the portal?” I asked.

  “A few of his fellow knights. A dreary drunk of a man named Tom.” His eyes flitted to Astrid. “And there was a woman. Looked like her. A nasty, stuck-up bitch. Thought she was too good for me.”

  Astrid took a step toward him but I held up my hand.

  “I sent people back the other way too,” Lampton continued. “Mercenaries, idiots, moon gazers.”

  “Why?”

  “To see what treasures and knowledge they could find. I had suspicions that Sykes was holding out on me.”

  “And did any of them return?”

  Lampton shook his head. “None. Not that anyone would have noticed they were missing.”

  “Why?” I asked. “Why risk opening a door to another world? You had no idea what could come through.”

  Lampton laughed. “I was perfectly aware my salad days were over at that point. But I could see the potential for my heirs to keep the Lampton torch burning, and for Hugo to rise even higher than I had. At least once his damnable mother had passed on. I can tell you, sacrificing my son to that marriage was quite the cross to bear, but it was worth it. Once we had her in our nest, we could siphon off information from the Council. Then she went and left the door open for Hugo to replace her, so it all worked out in the end.”

  “What about Endersley?”

  “What about him?”

  “What was he doing here? Clearly the undead dogs and their master was his handiwork.”

  “I gave him shelter for a while. That was all.”

  “So what’s he got planned?” I demanded.

  “You think he told me his plans? Think he’d trust them to a frail old man like me?”

  “I think you know more than you’re telling.” I seized his dry wrinkled jaw in my fingers and stared hard into his eyes.

  Lampton tried to pull away but finally he nodded, and another slow, malevolent smile crept over his lips. “I suppose I can tell you one thing at least.” He leaned forward as if delivering a particularly salacious piece of gossip. “The city’s about to catch quite a cold.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Lampton folded his arms. “Just what I said. And that’s all I’m giving you.”

  I slapped him hard enough for his head to jerk back. “Tell me what it means, because if you don’t my friend will use her knives on you. We’ll take your fingers and your toes, one by one.” I glanced to Astrid, and she gave a solemn nod as she pulled a dagger from her belt.

  Lampton gazed from Astrid to me and I could see him sizing things up. Slowly he slumped back in his chair. “I don’t know what Endersley’s planning, just that it’s imminent. Have you ever encountered the man?” he asked as he twirled a finger at the side of his head. “He’s utterly unhinged, but he has bags of talent, and he’s proud of his work. It was his idea to turn Baxter and the hounds from living to dead and then to something in-between. Personally I think he did it to show off, but fair play, he did a good job.”

  “So he can turn blinkereds to restless now,” I said to Astrid. She glanced from me to Lampton as he continued.

  “By restless I take it you mean zombies?” Lampton asked. “If so, then the answer’s a resounding yes. But not all of them. He tried it on the kitchen maid, but she ran around like a headless chicken for nearly an hour, smashing into walls and all sorts.” He laughed. “It was quite amusing, actually.”

  “Sounds hilarious,” I said. “Maybe we can get a dose of Endersley’s virus and try it on you. See if you find that funny.”

  Lampton’s smile faded. “My point was, he can make it work on some people to full effect, but not others and the means he has of spreading it is still primitive. Which is why he wants to try his latest strain on a crowd. Hence me telling you the city’s about to catch a cold.”

  “Yes, I get it.” I grabbed his face and forced his rheumy old eyes to meet mine. “What crowd? Where?”

  “He didn’t give details. But,” Lampton raised his arm and glanced at the chunky watch on his withered wrist. “He should be conducting another test right about now. After that he’ll cast his net a lot wider.”

  I let go of him and watched as he made a big deal about fastening his blazer and smoothing his hair. I was tempted to punch the smug prick, but I might as well have punched a baby. I turned to Samuel. “Wipe his mind, once this shit’s over and order is restored, we’ll have him sent to Stardim.”

  Lampton shot me a feral glare. “Fuck you!”

  “You should be grateful, Stardim will be an improvement on this festering old pile of rubble,” I said.

  Before I could move, Lampton clambered from his chair and ran across the room with surprising dexterity. I raced after him as he emerged onto the upper landing and made for the stairs.

  “Stop struggling-” I paused as a blinding flash filled the room. “What is that?” I demanded.

  “Damned if I know,” Lampton said. “Probably something to do with the boy.”

  “Boy?”

  “Hugo. He loves all the latest spells, gadgets and whatnots. You can ask him maybe. Just before he has you eviscerated like the pathetic peasant you are.” As he spoke, his eyes drifted slightly and the air between us fizzled. He was summoning magic. Something wicked.

  I back handed him to break the spell and slapped him across the top of his head, before dragging him back down the corridor and shoving him into the room. “Wipe the old bastard’s mind. Leave him with nothing, no memories of his salad days, nothing to be proud of or to gloat over. Make him what he is, a sick old ghost haunting a sick old house.”

  “It will by my pleasure,” Samuel said as he leaned on his haunches and began to tell Lampton one of his nonsensical stories.

  It seemed Lampton’s psychic defenses had been weakened by the booze because within moments a slow grin passed over his face and he began to nod along as Samuel slowly drew out his memories and replaced them with a long doddering string of nagging nonsense.

  39

  When we emerged from the woods that surrounded the Lampton estate, and stepped back onto the main road, it felt like we’d just returned from another world entirely. I switched my phone on and it flashed, rumbled and chirped as message after message appeared.

  Missed Call: Haskins

  Over and over…

  I called him and he answered immediately. “Where the hell have you been, Rook?”

  “Good evening, Detective,” I said. Clearly something was up, but after what I’d been through tonight I wasn’t in the mood to bite.

  “There’s been another incident. Just like the one at the library, only this time there’s more of them. A lot more.”

  “Where?”

  “Downtown, outside a theater called The Playhouse, just look for the flashing lights. I
t's like a disco nightmare out here, you can’t miss it.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Our drive back to the city took the best part of an hour, and we saw the lights of the emergency vehicles long before we reached the scene There were ambulances everywhere and a line of police cars had cordoned off the street.

  “Time to make ourselves look respectable,” I said as I climbed out of the truck. Samuel cast an illusion spell as we walked, making us look like cops and I tried not to let my eyes linger on the tight folds of Astrid’s snug blue uniform.

  We crossed the barrier and nodded to any cops who looked our way. They nodded back, but a few did double-takes, as if they were trying to figure out who the hell we were. The red lights shot across the theater’s old brick walls, washing out the round white bulbs on the old marquee that spelled out its name:

  The Playhouse.

  The scene was chaos. Blood spattered the sidewalk, the box office and the front doors. There was a sickening amount of it. People staggered by, many of them helped along by medics they didn’t seem to notice.

  I stepped back as an old man snapped his head my way and growled, gritting his dentures like a particularly pissed off Rottweiler. His eyes were wild, reasonless things with one goal only; to feed. The woman beside him licked her lips and ran a bloody finger over her gums like it had been slathered with cocaine. She barely glanced up as the police manhandled them both into a van and slammed the doors.

  Yellow tape fluttered through the air near the theater’s front entrance. As we took in the scene I caught sight of one of the victims. A young girl, she couldn’t have been more than thirteen. Her head was at an oddly bent angle, her eyes glassy and the side of her throat was open and red. Then I saw the wounds on her shoulder and thigh as the pool of blood curdling around her reflected the theater’s name like a dark mirror.

  “They were chewing on her like she was drumstick,” Haskins said, as he appeared at my side. His eyes glinted, and he wiped them quickly with the back of his hand. “Twelve years old. Her whole life ahead of her,” he said, his voice breaking, “and then this shit happens.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “You’re sorry?” Haskins voice was choked with anger. His hands curled into fists and a deep flush passed through his cheeks.

  “I’m trying to stop this, Haskins,” I said, “it’s why we’re here.”

  He glanced past me to Astrid and Samuel and shot them a venomous look. “So they're part of your freak show?” he asked.

  “You can see us?” Samuel asked. He'd cast his illusion spell to deceive, but also to prod any curious or suspicious onlookers to turn away and take little notice of us.

  “Of course I can see you,” Haskins said. “And I know you ain’t real cops. So what the fuck are you doing at my crime scene?” He rounded on me. “Well?”

  “They’re helping.”

  “Really?” Haskins asked, “cause I ain't seeing a lot of progress. It’s been days since that librarian…”

  “I know, and we’re working on it.” I felt for Haskins. He was right. The pointless deaths, the blood, the slow burning destruction was coming from our side of the city. But I was trying to stop it, I was doing everything I could.

  “Those people,” Haskins nodded to the theatergoers as they were led away, some on foot, many on stretchers, “they’re headed for a hospital. They’ll run tests and it’s only a matter of time before the federal authorities are notified. And when they are there’s going to be big questions. And consequences. Mark my words.”

  “They won’t know what it is. It’s not of this world,” I said.

  “I beg your pardon?” Haskins said. “Did you just say it’s not of this world?”

  “I did. Which means they’re going to hit a dead end. But hopefully we’ll have eliminated the man responsible before he can cause any more devastation. ”

  “Hopefully?” Haskins barked, causing more than a few cops to glance our way.

  “Like I said, we’re working on it.” I looked down as my phone began to ring:

  Dauple

  “One second, Haskins” I said as I answered “I’ll have to call you back, Dauple. There’s been a-”

  “No. You have to come and see me. Right away. You know where I live.” He sounded exhausted, scared. I was about to tell him to give me some time but he hung up. I turned back to Haskins. “I’s sorry, I’ve got to go.”

  Haskins grabbed the pocket on my uniform, which in reality was the lapel of my coat. “Get this fixed, Rook, because it’s really starting to become a tale of two cities and I know which one’s going to be burned down to the ground if this shit carries on. Here’s a clue, it ain’t going to be ours.”

  “I understand.” I firmly removed his hands from my clothes. “Keep me posted and I’ll do the same.”

  Haskins continued to glare at me, but finally he gave a sharp nod and strode away.

  “We need to find a cab,” I said as we walked back down the block. Police cars had boxed in our stolen truck, and I wasn’t confident the spell I’d placed on its owner was going to hold out for much longer.

  “Where are we going?” Astrid asked.

  “To see a friend. An unusual friend.”

  Finally we flagged down a cab, Samuel called shotgun and I climbed into the back with Astrid. Half way down the block he started regaling the driver with one of his stories and soon the guy was laughing like they were the oldest of buddies.

  I glanced out the window as a streak of silver lightning split the sky and a rumble shook the city. The storm was raging again, and rain pelted the windshield in wave-like torrents. It seemed apt. The car slowed near a bar at the intersection, its soft pink and blue lights twinkled in stark contrast to the men fighting outside. Five or six drunk morons trading blows, their heads snapping back, blood and teeth flying.

  The city was on edge.

  Everything was on edge. And about to crumble away.

  40

  We pulled up outside the building that housed Dauple’s squalid basement apartment.

  “That place doesn’t look like it’s going to be standing for too much longer,” Samuel remarked as I paid the cab driver.

  “Yeah, but it’ll be okay for the next fifteen or twenty minutes. Now, I should warn you…expect the kind of squalor you’d find in a thirteen year old boy’s bedroom. In other words, try not to be shocked, don’t touch anything, and whatever you do, don’t accept anything to eat or drink. And there will be flies. Don’t swat 'em. There’s a chance they’re Dauple’s friends.”

  “Friends?” Astrid arched an eyebrow.

  “Yup.”

  “Great,” Samuel clapped his hands. “Lead on.”

  We navigated the crooked concrete steps leading to the subterranean lair, dodging the pile of splitting garbage bags as we went. There were notably fewer flies this time round and it seemed by the tiny winged corpses scattered around the stairs that the changing of the season had claimed a fair few of Dauple’s buddies. I knocked on the faded blue door. Within moments it opened a crack and Dauple’s startled eye peered out at me. “Morgan,” he said. “Oh, I am so glad to see you” He sounded drunk and looked relieved. Until he noticed Astrid and Samuel. “Who are they?”

  “Friends,” I said. “Can we come in?”

  “Sorry.” Dauple fiddled with the chain and opened the door, before waving us inside with a jerky sweep of his hand.

  The smell wasn't as bad as I’d expected and it looked like he’d cleaned the place up, a little. His old sofa still rested lopsidedly against the spotted peeling wall, although someone had thoughtfully covered the scorched hole in the cushion with a throw. Tinny music played from the vintage radio on his wonky three-legged table, bringing to mind a vintage Hollywood film score being played in a wind tunnel.

  Astrid and Samuel waited awkwardly in the middle of the room. She looked around with both horror and pity, while Samuel seemed to take it all in his stride.

  With a loud clap of his ha
nds Dauple scuttled off to the kitchen and returned with his good old dented platter. He’d loaded it up with a bottle of chocolate liqueur, a styrofoam cup, a wine glass and a pair of personalized mugs; one with a picture of himself in his top hat, the other a snapshot of his homely ex-girlfriend, the drenched chipmunk.

  He set it down on his coffee table and gestured for us to gather around and help ourselves. Then he slopped a large measure into his mug, gulped it down, topped it back up, and bolted that one down too. “Whew!” he cried, then smiled at Astrid and gave her an awkward bow, before offering his hand to Samuel, who shook it firmly and gave one of his winning smiles. I introduced everyone, then poured myself a little of the liqueur and pretended to drink it, so as to not hurt his feelings. “So, what’s all this about, Dauple?” I asked.

  He cleared his throat. “This is not an easy thing to say.”

  “You can speak freely in front of us.”

  Dauple gave me a quick, furtive glance before continuing. “I was in the Cadaver Club earlier, and-”

  “The what?”

  “It’s an underground bar that caters to people of my profession, as well as a limited number of corpse enthusiasts. It’s a cracking place actually, everything’s black; the decor, the drinks, the lights. And the music’s a treat.” He gave a brief smile. “We should go there, make a night of it.”

  “Sounds great,” I said, hoping it sounded convincing.

  “Yes,” Dauple’s smile faded as he continued, “I went there tonight because, frankly, today’s been a total and utter shit of a day and I needed to be around friends.” He poured another drink, before continuing. “And of course it wasn't long before Scaly Jackson turned up.” He looked at me like I should know who that was.

  “Scaly Jackson? Doesn’t ring a bell.”

  “Sure he does, he works in the morgue, and fronts a band called The Doomed Years of Peregrine Golightly The Third.” Dauple glanced at me, hoping for recognition. I shook my head. “Well anyway, Scaly came in, bought us all a round of Black Russians and started bragging that he had gossip that was juicier than a fresh corpse, and…”