The Midnight Man (The Mancer Trilogy Book 2)

by Alan Scott

  Jack transferred his attention to Caldecote.

  “Oh, fuck!” muttered Caldecote as Jack’s eyes bored into him.

  ***

  “I’ve got it!” cried out Amanda as she grasped her Bible to her chest.

  “Good. Now start reading aloud from it,” said Peak.

  “What?”

  “Just do it, your Imperial Majesty!” Archbishop Peak then turned his attention to Jack Rothgal. Holding one hand out, he chanted, “In the name of our Lord, I command thee to leave this place. I command that this storm ends and your soul be returned to hell!”

  As Amanda watched the Archbishop, comprehension began to dawn on her. Taking a deep breath, she opened her Bible and, in a clear and precise voice, began to speak, “I am not afraid of evil, for my soul is protected by the love of my God. My body is protected by His might. He has liberated me from fear. Joyous is my love for my Lord.”

  ***

  “For your sister, my lord! For your sister!” gambled Caldecote as he prepared himself to be blasted apart.

  Dark Storm’s head suddenly jerked upright and he turned his attention to the stands, where Amanda Rothgal-Ackroyd and the Archbishop chanted. The words they were saying made his skin feel warm and uncomfortable. Dark Storm snarled and shook his head.

  ***

  “Keep going!” encouraged Peak to Amanda before turning to Deacon Brown. “Deacon, if you could add your voice.”

  “Certainly, Archbishop,” replied Brown. “The deviant, the unclean, and the shapeshifter cannot stand before the pure light of our Lord, for it shows them in their true form. They are creatures of the dark. LORD, SEND US YOUR LIGHT!”

  ***

  Dark Storm gave the stands one last look of hatred, then called out to Caldecote, “Get your men and follow me!”

  “You heard the big bastard - follow him and help anyone that needs it!”

  Jack powered his way to the shadow-door with his sister over his shoulder and the few remaining survivors of the Rothgal Star limping behind them.

  ***

  “Look, your Imperial Majesty,” one of Amanda’s maids shouted, “you have driven the evil one away!”

  Queen Amanda Rothgal-Ackroyd watched in wonder as Dark Storm vanished through the shadow-door along with what remained of the men of the Rothgal Star. Her wonderment soon changed to empowerment. “The Lord God is with us!” she declared to the crowd.

  A ripple of shouts sounded out.

  “Through me, He has driven off the unclean, the unbeliever, and the deviant!” Fanaticism radiated from Amanda. “I am His chosen one! Through me, His humble servant, He will protect our fair and pleasant lands from the evils of the world!”

  Confessor Vember shouted out to the crowd. “Her Imperial Majesty, Queen Amanda Rothgal-Ackroyd, defender of the Realm, and bane of the unclean and deviant - praise be that she leads us through these dark times.”

  The applause and shouts from the crowd was deafening.

  Lapping up the adulation, Amanda cast her eyes skyward. Blue skies and soft white clouds were replacing the dark and heavy rainclouds, and whilst one particularly black cloud dissipated, the sun broke through, warming her face. “Thank you, my Lord!” declared Amanda as she fell to her knees in prayer. As tears of joy and devotion blinded her eyes, she basked in the warmth of her God.

  Archbishop Peak and Deacon Brown watched as Amanda prayed.

  “Do you think she actually drove off Dark Storm?” asked Deacon Brown.

  “No, I think Dark Storm simply kept his promise to his sister.”

  “How about the men of the Rothgal Star?”

  “Oh, they played their part wonderfully,” said Peak as he prepared himself to talk to Amanda. “Rebecca had to die, but she did not need to be cut into bits. After all, she was a rather good queen. I am so glad we had that chat with Corporal Caldecote.”

  Deacon Brown nodded his head in agreement.

  “Right.” Archbishop Peak straightened himself and gave a small stretch. “Let’s go and have a word with Amanda.”

  ***

  A shadow-door opened and out stepped Dark Storm, still carrying his dead sister, and the few remaining men of the Rothgal Star.

  “Where are we?” asked Caldecote.

  “The Royal Gardens,” answered Dark Storm.

  “What?”

  “It’s only a small detour,” growled Dark Storm as he shot Caldecote a look of anger.

  “Oh, okay.”

  “Now that is what I call a proper growl,” said Big Dick.

  “True,” agreed Broadleaf. “That was some real animal undertones.”

  Caldecote turned to look at the two men. “Pricks.”

  Big Dick and Broadleaf grinned.

  Dark Storm made his way to one of the flower borders and, ignoring the thorns, ripped up three plants. Opening a new shadow-door, he shouted, “Come!”

  ***

  Dark Storm stepped from the shadow-door into a forest glade. A cabin stood off to one side and a freshly dug grave lay nearby. He slowly made his way to the grave and dropped the plants on the ground. Kneeling, he gently laid his sister down next to the grave. “Leave me!” he told the men of the Rothgal Star.

  “Come on,” said Caldecote as he led his men to the shelter of a large tree, “and let’s finally see to those wounds.”

  Tears fell unchecked from Dark Storm’s red raw eyes as he silently looked at his sister’s battered body. There he stayed for over an hour, unmoving and silent, before, finally, he spoke. “Duty is a poison.” Gently lifting Rebecca’s body, Jack stepped over the edge into the grave. He landed with barely a sound and reverently placed Rebecca on the soft dirt. Using his fingers, he combed her hair from her face, then placed her arms over her chest. The tears ceased falling, but the pained and haunted look remained as, with a final look, Jack leapt from the grave. Picking up the shovel he had used earlier in the day, he started to fill in his sister’s final resting place.

  Once finished, he dug three shallow holes in the grave - one at the top, one in the middle, and one at the end. In each hole, he planted one of the plants he had taken from the Royal Garden. Standing up and taking a step backwards, Dark Storm smiled. “You always loved the Wolverton rose, little sister. The yellow roses and their fragrant scent always brought a smile to your face.”

  Taking a deep breath, Dark Storm continued, “I suppose I had better see to my guests, especially as I am about to water in the roses. I will drop by later.” Turning, Dark Storm began to move towards the men of the Rothgal Star, just as the rain began to fall.

  Chapter Four

  From White to Gray to Black

  Moonlight flooded into the room from its only window, causing deep shadows in the far corners of the bedroom. On the large double bed, the Midnight Man sat naked, bathing in the silvery light, whilst green and purple smoke drifted from his lips and spiralled upwards into the cool air.

  In his left hand, he loosely held a pipe. In his right, he caressed the hair of a kneeling naked buxom brunette who was currently running her tongue up the shaft of his cock. Next to her was an equally buxom naked blonde doing the same thing. Both had their hands tied behind their back and leather collars around their necks with leashes attached. Occasionally, a naked small-breasted red-haired female would bring her riding crop hard across the brunette’s or blonde’s buttocks, if she thought they were not putting enough effort into pleasing the man on the bed.

  There was a knock on the door. Without waiting, Gideon Sandhu walked in and whispered into the Midnight Man’s ear, “Rebecca Rothgal is dead.”

  The Midnight Man turned his drug-addled eyes to Gideon and smiled a wide cheery grin. “Beautiful. Start the plan.”

  “Yes, my lord,” replied Gideon as he turned and walked out of the room, ignoring the sex slaves that were serving his master.

  Grasping the hair of the brunette, he thrust his cock deep down her throat until she gagged. “We need to celebrate this good news!” he declared as he let slip the p
ipe and grabbed the blonde’s hair with his left hand. Standing, he pulled both of them to their feet and flung them on the bed. “You!” he called to the blonde, “lie down on your back, head over the edge of the bed.”

  The blonde quickly did as she was told, trying to make herself as comfortable as possible with her hands still tied behind her back.

  “You!” the Midnight Man called to the brunette, “climb on top of her and put your tongue to good work on her pussy.” The brunette complied with her master’s commands.

  The Midnight Man grasped the brunette’s hips, eased himself into her, and started to slowly and deeply thrust into her. Turning to the redhead, he simply said, “Hit me.”

  The redhead smiled sadistically as she flexed the riding crop in her hands and made her way to the trio on the bed. Raising the crop, she brought it down hard on the Midnight Man’s buttocks, leaving a bright red stripe. He thrust harder into the brunette. “You on the bottom, put your tongue to work.”

  The blonde raised her head and flicked her tongue along the Midnight Man’s balls.

  Turning his attention back to the redhead, he sneered, “Is that the best you have got, bitch?”

  The redhead’s eyes flared and her mouth curled up in anger. “No, my lord, it is not.” She brought the crop down hard across the Midnight Man’s back, causing another bright red line to appear on his body.

  “Again, bitch!” he called. The redhead dutifully responded.

  “And again!” the Midnight Man shouted in ecstasy. His fingers dug into the brunette’s flesh as he grasped her hips and thrust deep and hard into her. The blonde’s mouth worked along his shaft and balls whilst the redhead thrashed him with her riding crop.

  “Oh fuccccking yesss!” he screamed out into the night as he built towards his climax.

  ***

  Lady Joanna Harris stalked the corridors outside her son’s rooms, her eyes darting to every shadow, reacting to every breeze. “I know you are there,” she hissed into the darkness, “but you shall never have him!” Joanna suddenly turned on her heel, her claws fully extended. “Stay away!” she snarled to the empty corridor. “Stay away from my little boy!” In the cold, bleak, and dark corridor, a gust of wind whistled by Joanna. To her insane mind, it whispered the dread name - it whispered the name of the man who would hurt her son. The wind whispered, “Mannnncccccerrrrr.”

  ***

  The next morning

  “More toast, darling?” asked Joanna Harris.

  “No, thank you, Mother,” replied the Midnight Man.

  “So what are you going to do today?” enquired Joanna.

  "I think I will go by the name Tom again. I like Tom,” said the Midnight Man as he took a sip of his tea.

  “That’s nice, darling. The Midnight Man was a bit of a mouthful.” Joanna took a bite from her toast. Once she had swallowed, she continued, “Anything else?”

  Tom leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Oh, yes, Mother.”

  “So tell me, Tom.”

  “Well, my armies are now on the march, so it’s time to visit the Star Mountains and claim the Draken Amulet. Then, with the Amulet in my possession, I will destroy the Chosen.”

  “That’s nice. When will you be back?” called his mum as he stood.

  “Whenever I’m back,” answered Tom as he opened a shadow-door and stepped through.

  Joanna shook her head slowly. “No respect for his mother.”

  ***

  Tom exited the shadow-door into a harsh, barren, but stunningly beautiful vista. He was on a wide ledge near the top of the highest peak in the Star Mountain range. Flurries of snowflakes danced in the air as the chilling wind blew across the exposed space. Looking down, he glimpsed the valleys far below through the breaks in the mist. Looking round, he saw the tops of mountains, their ragged and jagged summits, softened by virginal snow, which would never know the touch of man nor woman.

  “Home,” Tom said, gently.

  “Yes, you are home, Cloud Chaser,” said a voice from behind him.

  Tom did not turn around. “Do not call me Cloud Chaser.”

  “Why? Is that not your name, Cloud Chaser?”

  Feeling movement by his left hand side, Tom turned his eyes to see a Chosen, an air spirit, looking slightly down on him. “Ah, Autumn Breeze, it is you, isn’t it?” enquired Tom.

  “Yes, Cloud Chaser, it is I.”

  “You were one of my oldest friends.” Tom moved closer to Autumn Breeze.

  “Yes, that is true. That is why I am glad you have returned, Cloud Chaser.”

  Sneering at his old friend, Tom said, “I am no longer called Cloud Chaser. I go by many other names now - the Midnight Man or Tom will do.”

  Autumn Breeze moved close to Tom. “I think your entrapment within that boy may have changed you.”

  Tom’s hand was a blur as it shot out and grabbed Autumn Breeze by the throat. “You left me trapped.”

  Autumn Breeze struggled against Tom’s grip. “Let me go!”

  “It’s not nice being trapped, is it?” smiled Tom.

  “Let me go!” demanded Autumn Breeze.

  With his free hand, Tom reached behind himself for a blade he had hidden in the waistband of his trousers. Drawing the blade forth, he uttered, “You left me trapped in that body.”

  “You wanted to be trapped. Don’t you remember, Cloud Chaser?”

  “What?” snarled Tom.

  “You wanted to be left in the boy. You were bored. You wanted to experience more. You wanted to experience higher levels of pain, suffering, happiness, and joy.”

  “No, you lie!” spat out Tom. “Why would I deliberately trap myself?”

  “For the pure bliss of constant feelings.”

  “But… but to sacrifice the ability to soar between these mountain tops...” said Tom.

  “Was the price you were willing to pay. You even had a backup plan if problems arose. You were to have a daughter...”

  “Noooooooooooooooooooo!” screamed Tom.

  “Search your memories, Cloud Chaser,” insisted Autumn Breeze.

  “No, it’s not true! I was trapped by the bastard Nathaniel. I was betrayed by my people,” countered Tom.

  “And how did those pure raw emotions feel?”

  “Beyond words,” whispered Tom as he stared into space.

  “Then accept that you wanted it to happen,” urged Autumn Breeze.

  Tom let go of his old friend, dropped the knife, and grasped his head with both hands. “No, you lie.”

  Autumn Breeze flew clear and hovered a few feet above the ground. “How else did the boy manage to trap you, Cloud Chaser? Think on that. You wanted to be trapped.”

  “No. No. No!”

  “It is true, Cloud Chaser. Was the pain such that you could not blame yourself for it?”

  “No. No. Nooooooooooooooo!” howled Tom as he shook his head violently.

  “Oh, but yes, Cloud Chaser. The simple truth is this – you chose to stay within that boy, as you wanted to experience new sensations and thrills.” Autumn Breeze circled round his kneeling friend studying him intently. “Oh, I envy you, old friend. I can see emotions coursing through your body. They must feel divine.”

  Tom threw back his head and laughed. “I wanted to stay in Nathaniel’s body.”

  “Yes,” answered Autumn Breeze.

  “I wanted to stay in Nathaniel’s body.”

  “Yes,” replied Autumn Breeze, once again.

  More laughter came from Tom.

  “Are you okay, Cloud Chaser?” enquired Autumn Breeze.

  Wiping the tears away, and pushing himself upright, Tom replied with a broad smile. “Never felt better, old friend. Never felt better.”

  “Do you recall all the sensations?”

  “Oh, yes. I can feel them all.”

  “Do you recall your words?”

  “I recall my words.”

  “Glory be to the old winds.”

  “Glory be,” repeated Tom.

  �
�We must go and speak with the old ones,” declared Autumn Breeze. “We must go to the Cave.”

  “Ah, yes, the Cave,” grinned Tom. “Let us go so I can tell everyone my story.”

  “Such emotions and feelings will not have been spoken of for a thousand years.”

  “Then let us go,” said the Midnight Man as he walked through the virgin snow, defiling it with his heavy footsteps.

  ***

  Joanna Harris looked down at the cold toast which was lying on her plate. She did not need to eat toast; after all, she was a vampyre, but she needed to set a good example for her son. Joanna smiled. Her wayward son had returned home to his mum. He thought he was all grown up, but deep down, she knew he would always need her. “Boys always need their mothers,” she told the empty room.

  Standing, she started to make her way out of the room when she stopped suddenly. Her eyes darted around the room, peering into the darkest corners. Baring her teeth, she hissed, “I know you are there, but you shall not have him.” Spinning around, her eyes searched the rest of the room. “I am his mother and I shall protect him. Nothing can defeat a mother’s love!”

  Spinning around again, Joanna hissed, “But I cannot be everywhere. I cannot, no!” Turning her head, Joanna peered at the window. “No, I cannot. I need someone to help me, to be my Dark Herald. I need Maria.”

  Joanna Harris rushed for the door, opened it, and made her way down the corridor.

  ***

  Cloud Chaser, aka the Midnight Man, aka Tom, stood in the freezing wind, knee deep in snow and stared at the rugged entranceway into the mountain. “The Cave,” he whispered in awe.