The Shadow Revolution
Page 28
These were no vagrants. They were well fed and muscular, all with beefy shoulders and ham-sized fists. Guards of some sort, apparently meant to make sure no one disturbed whatever was happening inside the church.
That wouldn’t do. Not werewolves, but suspicious enough for Malcolm to work off a bit of frustration on. These men were probably hired in a local pub for a couple hours’ work. There was no need for the use of firearms. Malcolm stepped out of the shadows and strode up to the men. They started, as he was sure he looked like a wraith coming out of the mists in his black garb.
“Waiting for services?” he asked them in a friendly manner.
“None of yer business, Angus,” snarled the man with the cigar, noting Malcolm’s brogue. He was a big man with square shoulders with a noggin to match. “Best you head back where you come from.”
“Nothing interesting happening there.” Malcolm looked past him to the side door. “Seems like something interesting here though.”
The second man pulled a bludgeon from his ragged wool coat. “Does this make you change your mind? You’re no match for all of us.”
“You’re mistaken,” was Malcolm’s answer, flinging back his own black coat to show the twin Lancaster pistols.
“Hellfire!” said the man as he pointed at the weapons with his measly club. “What are you hunting? Bear?”
The big fellow laughed. “All’s quiet here, Angus. Just move along.”
“Is it?” Malcolm asked. “Or is there something going on inside that church you don’t want me to see?
“Folks need to stay out for a few hours. Why don’t you come back at dawn?” A third man drew a thin, wicked blade.
“Step aside.” Malcolm had to give them credit. Just the sight of his weapons was usually enough to cow most men, even a werewolf once or twice. These men were obviously paid very well for their bravado.
The two men who were armed came at Malcolm quickly, thinking they would catch him off guard before he could pull his weapon. They were wrong. The pistol rose in a blur and he shot one man, shattering his forearm, and the knife dropped with a scream. Twisting about, Malcolm slammed the gun across the face of the man who had raised his cudgel.
Malcolm rammed his shoulder into the big man’s chest. So fast did the Scotsman move that the man could do little more than cry out in surprise. They went down in a tumble and he lost his grip on the pistol. Malcolm rolled away as a meaty fist drove into the ground where his neck would have been. He had to be quick and keep his opponents off balance. The big man was dangerous and needed to be disabled fast. Malcolm made it to his feet first.
Two new arrivals came running, and a red-bearded brute jumped into the fray. His chin lifted as he raised a wooden club. Malcolm swung a fast left jab into the man’s jaw. Red Beard’s head snapped around and Malcolm planted a right cross on the man’s temple. He dropped.
As Malcolm whirled back to the big brute, Red Beard’s partner grabbed him around the chest from behind. Malcolm used him as a brace and brought a boot into the brute’s midsection. The man fell back with a grunt of pain. Then the Scotsman threw his head back and connected with the nose of the man holding him. Restraining arms dropped and Malcolm spun about with a wild look.
His opponent gave a wicked swipe with a razor, but it caught in the folds of Malcolm’s grey scarf instead of his jugular. He grabbed the man’s arm and shoved his palm under the elbow and pushed up. The arm cracked and the man flopped to the ground with shrieks of pain.
The big thug, shaking himself like a bear, rose from the ground. He plunged again at the man in black with fists flailing, and the hunter let him come, slipping under to land a power blow of his own. It crushed the man’s lips and sent teeth flying. Malcolm’s fist darted out again, but this time it merely glanced off as his opponent shifted his head. Malcolm stumbled a step beyond the big man. The brute took advantage of the off-balance Scotsman and landed a hard blow on Malcolm’s ribs. It took the breath out of him.
Malcolm ducked just in time to avoid the thug’s next bone-crushing blow. He felt the wind as it passed over his head. He also heard the splintering of the wooden planks along the wall. Spinning on his heel, Malcolm locked both his hands together and brought them down onto the big man’s unprotected back. The behemoth shuddered and fell to his hands and knees.
Malcolm turned to face the thug with the cudgel, who had gotten up finally. The man came in swinging madly. Malcolm dodged under the first two swings, then stood up quickly, smashing his elbow under the brute’s chin. The man’s jaw shut hard and his head jerked back. He staggered and allowed Malcolm to deliver a hard right cross. This time the man went down and didn’t move.
Malcolm didn’t turn around fast enough before the behemoth struck him hard in the side of the face. The sheer impact rattled his bones to the core. Malcolm fell into the dirt, a cloud of dust rising beneath him, his breath going with it. He struggled to stand and got a boot in his face for the effort. The world went black for a second, and when his vision returned, he found himself in the grip of the huge man. Iron arms were wrapped around his chest so tightly that breathing was no longer a possibility. Malcolm groaned with the agony that spread across his ribs.
He struggled to shake off the darkness and get his feet beneath him, but not before the big man whirled around, slamming the hunter against a wall. His right shoulder took the brunt of it and his arm erupted in agony. He didn’t have much time. There was a roar in his ears. His numbing mind tried desperately to find a way out of the bear hold.
Malcolm pulled a pistol from across his hip. He couldn’t lift the weapon up, but he could point it down. Praying the leg he was shooting wasn’t his, he fired. The bullet blew through the big man’s knee. The scream that came almost brought a smile to Malcolm’s lips except that he was too busy trying to breathe and stay conscious.
The big man bellowed in agony and dropped Malcolm to clutch his shattered knee. Slumping to the ground, the Scotsman rolled to the side, sucking in a great lungful of sweet air. Letting go of his bleeding leg, the man came unsteadily at Malcolm once more. Malcolm slipped under a clumsy blow and brought his hand up, and with the heel of it caught the brute full in the face, snapping his head back. Then a series of strikes forced the man’s head side to side. They were short and quick, flicking in so fast they were just a blur of movement. The man’s big frame shuddered before momentum carried him past Malcolm, thudding to his knees. He cried out in more agony, clutching his injured leg.
Malcolm’s hand brushed across the blood dripping into his eye. His strength was rapidly running out. Amazingly, the lame man strained one more time to rise, fear in his eyes as Malcolm took one step toward him. Using his bloody left fist like a club now, and putting the weight of his whole body behind it, he struck the man on the neck below and behind the ear. It made a sickening, dull sound and the big brute’s eyes rolled white. He slumped into the dirt with a groan and did not move again.
The sudden relief of victory swept through Malcolm. He stared down at his lame and bloody attackers. Not one of them was conscious. The hunter was straight and deadly and utterly still yet every line of him was eager and alive.
“Done, are ya?” he spat out anyway. “Because I can keep going.”
There was no answer so he limped back to the steps and shoved open the door of the church. Inside, a faint glow beckoned from the right. All else was cast into deep shadows. He stepped through the pews and saw, in a ring of light on the floor, a distant shape, as pale as the cold tile it lay upon. Malcolm’s jaw tightened. The splayed figure was female. Her chest was a bloody mess. She had been flayed open to expose the organs inside.
Malcolm was too late.
Table of Contents
By Clay Griffith and Susan Griffith
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
C
hapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Excerpt from The Undying Legion
Chapter One