by J. E. Cammon
Where Shadows Lie:
Bay City
By
J. E. Cammon
Eternal Press
A division of Damnation Books, LLC.
P.O. Box 3931
Santa Rosa, CA 95402-9998
www.eternalpress.biz
Where Shadows Lie: Bay City
by J. E. Cammon
Digital ISBN: 978-1-61572-304-1
Print ISBN: 978-1-61572-305-8
Cover art by: Amanda Kelsey
Edited by: Sonia Lenardon
Copyedited by: Michelle Ganter
Copyright 2011 J. E. Cammon
Printed in the United States of America
Worldwide Electronic & Digital Rights
1st North American and UK Print Rights
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any form, including digital and electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes for use in reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Dedicated to friends
Acknowledgements:
The Vall-llobera clan, the Nakaharas, and the Novitski family
Prologue
Inciting moments were so much more rare back then, the professor remembered. The fire in the expensively appointed mantle warmed the room, but its heat didn’t touch him. In one hand, he held a crystal stopper, which he rolled about his palm lazily. In the other hand he held a glass tumbler whose surface reflected the light of the flame.
Everything about the man screamed indifference. Except for his eyes, whose gaze appeared to be lost in the fire’s colors but was fixed upon memories of a different evening in a different time.
* * * *
Bay City seemed like the perfect place for him even before he decided on his profession. It was an old city lined with brownstones, and it had bitter, unforgiving weather. History was etched into it by the ebb and flow of the waters slicing into the port. Bay City saw the birth of one nation, a violent forging quenched by the blood of fighting men. It would see the spawning of another still, the man realized.
The evenings stretched that winter. His work always preceded the late dawn and ended after an early dusk. The city lived for the night, even then. Walking home among the unknowing sometimes made him sad; other times he felt empowered by what he knew, by the secrets he promised to keep. On occasion though—and these moments were brief—his faith would slip just so, like a loose garment. Staring into the faces of his contemporaries and hearing the stilted lectures of his superiors brought back memories of his upbringing in a different citadel, among a different flock. Surely, he questioned, there was something more to this. Something more tangible, more believable.
Unlike the last time, his prayers were answered by terrible angels. He never told the story, but it was carefully rehearsed in his mind. He liked to think what made him look up into the rainstorm that night was something else, rather than the sense of dread which permeated him. In any case, a lightning flash obliterated any doubt he held onto—silhouetted in flight against the irrepressible darkness was a figure of legend. A cloak flapped behind it and flowed about in the wind like dark wings. Of course, the creature wasn’t really flying. It simply leaped across the confined width of his vision restricted by the smothering buildings.
He made his way through the streets after the impossible beings; there were two of them. For the first time, he conceived of climbing a ladder skyward. He felt the odd sensation of gravity snatching at him, as if he didn’t belong. The sounds he heard egged him on; things echoing in the night that everyone else heard but rationalized away.
It took forever, and at the end he was too much in awe to be thankful or terrified upon reaching the summit. There they stood, soaked. They were sleek with a different, unfettered way of standing, of being. Small clouds of breath fogged the scene at even intervals as his breathing labored after the chase. Nothing so inelegant as the need to breathe gripped either creature, even as they fought with each other. The damp weight of their clothes did not impede their movements, which were at times difficult to make out. The victor had his back turned; he seemed cloaked by night itself. When the lightning woke the sky, all of the creature was exposed. He looked like an Adonis of dark power.
It made him literally sick to see the both of them. He was attacked by a crushing migraine and was violently ill on the spot. He knew this was the moment when a man had the opportunity to shrug off the shackles of the mundane and accept the yoke of the extraordinary. He stayed, and watched the two become one. The loser fell, discarded and headless, the trappings of possession ebbing away in rapid decay. The body set back to decomposing as it should have so long ago.
It made him even more ill to see how quickly a man could be undone.
* * * *
That thought brought him back to his present. Somewhere in the flame he found the dead eyes of the giant, the storm god who owned that night and all the others in Bay City since. The professor rose from his chair. How long ago had it been? He pretended for a moment as if he could not recall the exact day, the exact year. He pretended as if he had not assumed the lexicon of one who knows in every way, shape, and form since that rainy evening.
It always happened at night, most often with the promise of dawn’s light just beyond the next hill. The man flattened his hand and looked down at his palm. The firelight exposed the red ridges of bruised tissue. The stopper rolled across his palm, and sunk neatly into the grooves as if his hands were made with the object in mind.
The omen happened just an hour before. It rocked him so fully that he twitched in an uncontrollable spasm. It hurt, but the pain was not new, nor was it unexpected. It was he who set things in place to be forewarned of great import, after all. Ill omen was here now. What it was exactly would have to be uncovered and, of course, why it came but he knew, with all the power of one blessed with knowing, that it had arrived. Whatever it was, it would change things, and change was the most dangerous thing of all. The man glanced over to the complement of the crystal stopper, the matching container filled with brandy. It contained much more before that evening. That container, with its mirrored stand, matching top, and glass tumblers, witnessed the forming of many plans. The man knew for a fact the fates didn’t care. He drank the rest of the amber liquid.
The fates didn’t care, but that never stopped a man from plotting. These moments used to be so rare, he thought. He was not jubilant; he’d grown wise enough not to look for such dangerous, inciting things. As the fire swayed, chiding, there was a moment of evident fear in the man’s features. Then it was gone as the moorings of the mask were willed back into place.
Chapter One
What to do with forever? It’s too cumbersome, too unwieldy for the average mind to accept and for the average spirit to shoulder. The smart man would probably spend all the days trying to learn everything which could be learned. The same went for the strong man; he would try to master every strength.
David considered Jarvis’ broad back and upraised head. He secretly wondered at the vampire’s age and why he chose to spend his free moments stargazing.
Bay City wasn’t a New York by any means; the buildings might have aspired once to great heights, but something came along and repressed the might-have-been skyscrapers, yielding a medio
cre skyline to a major U.S. eastern seaport. Still, with enough experimentation, a restless soul would be amazed at how many roofs were accessible in the dead of night—David surely was. Except for the occasional air conditioning or venting unit, the roofs of Bay City were mostly an empty playground under a very high ceiling of stars.
David adjusted the backpack over his shoulders, holding in a sigh. It was a long day, but they scheduled the meeting long ago. Admittedly, he was curious about what Jarvis considered to be a fun time, and he ended up being a little disappointed to discover the vampire’s idea of fun was to go to a rooftop and stare into the heavens. It only really served to show how restless David was, how in need of action, movement, and direction. Jarvis just stood there, his neck crooked upwards, like he didn’t feel fatigue or boredom. David, on the other hand, walked the perimeter of the roof at least half a dozen times.
“We can go,” Jarvis said, in that hollow baritone of his.
David shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I just didn’t realize it’d be this…” he fished around for a nicer word, but couldn’t find one, “…boring. You really just stand around looking at the stars? I mean, really?” Jarvis moved closer. He didn’t answer, which was an answer in itself. “Right. Well, I should be getting home, it’s late.” David looked at his watch for confirmation. “Christ, it’s only ten?” He wiped his face with both hands in a way he considered to be apologetic. Through his fingers, he saw a flash in the sky. They both stood still as the streak of light of a falling star passed across the sky. David pointed. “Okay, now that was cool. How often does that happen?” he asked, looking out over the sea of uneven roofs as if he could still see it.
“Not often.” Jarvis moved towards the stairs.
“I didn’t mean it was super boring, just sort of boring…like straddling the line between boring and…slow.” All things considered, David felt pretty bad. He pondered on how difficult it was to insult the dead.
“I have other things to do, regardless,” Jarvis said, opening the door for David, even though they were fifteen feet apart. It was an odd gesture.
“Other things?” David paused after he got close enough to study the expression on Jarvis’ face. It was barely noticeable. Jarvis’ flesh did not animate unless he willed it to, and in death he forgot how to use the hundred different tiny muscles of his face to convey emotions. With enough concentration, one could still detect a slightly quirked eyebrow or the lip twitch of a smirk. “Oh. Right,” David said. “That.”
“It would be best to put it out of your mind,” Jarvis said, following the other man through the door.
“Yeah.” David felt the hard edges of the stairs under his feet. Other violent images occurred to him as the apprehension built and threatened to transform into something else. The strangeness in his stomach and in his nostrils never went away, even after he learned of Jarvis’ generally benign intent. They were the same, and yet not the same.
“Never mind.” He suddenly decided to drop it. “I’ll catch you tomorrow night.” With some anxiety, David sped down the stairs. He could almost feel the big man’s smile. The creepy bastard.
David met Jarvis just over three years ago, and he couldn’t figure out if all vampires made his heckles rise and his stomach twist or if it was just Jarvis. He was the only one he ever met; they seemed not to cloister together like popular culture and the movies David was fond of watching suggested. He once spoke to his father about it and found out that officially speaking, they all fell under a mythical subset of mystically cursed beings. His father told him to run, should he ever meet one, and wouldn’t say why. They were dangerous to be sure, but the superstition in the man’s voice alluded to there being some mysterious, uninvestigated reason to stay away from them. David discovered there were more similarities than differences, though; people still screamed the same whenever they found out, and ran just as fast. It was a big reason why the two of them became friends. To him, the superstition didn’t make a whole lot of sense, but there wasn’t a library or anything a person could reference. Once David got past Jarvis’ dead exterior, the vampire proved to be a nice person, just extremely old; it suffocated his overall mood and dulled his personality. He’d make a good straight man in a comedy duo.
David took a direct route home at a brisk jog. Standing around in one place for so long, he felt confined, restrained. He needed a good sweat. He set a pace where he could hear his own heartbeat drumming in his ears. The streets were empty, and although with somewhat of a dearth of tall buildings, Bay City did have lots of alleyways to cut through. A left here, two rights there, and David forgot about that direct route home. He skidded to a stop, trying to force straight the smile on his face. His arms and legs felt active and strong, and he took a moment to calm down. He wanted little else but to cut loose and scream but that wouldn’t have ended well.
He took in deep, slow breaths. That was when he heard the footsteps. No, not really footsteps—the person was sprinting. David looked around and realized he didn’t know where he was. He kicked himself mentally and walked slowly around the intersection he found himself in. If he smelled the air he could ascertain where he came from, but that was about it. Eventually, he found which direction the person was going and moved that way. He didn’t know of anyone else crazy enough to run through Bay City alleys at night. Besides, this person sounded like they were unused to it. There was pain in the haggard breathing, and moaning.
As he got closer, David smelled the fear, and once he got close enough that he was on the next street over, he heard the steps of the pursuer. Whatever it was, it was heavy, yet it moved silently at times; it plodded on two legs, sometimes four. Something chasing someone, and it was gaining. An ancient riddle echoed in David’s mind. He was faster than both pursued and pursuer, which placed him helpfully in front of the prey, who was faltering.
David heard the man smack painfully into a garbage can and stumble. He grabbed the stranger on his third step and spun him around a corner, out of sight. He clamped a hand over the man’s mouth and pinned his arms so he wouldn’t make any noise flailing. David whispered to him to be quiet, and thankfully, the man thought that was a fine idea. David couldn’t help himself and peeked around the corner to get an eye on whatever was chasing the guy. As he hoped, it moved into the intersection. As David looked on, he saw horns, a face with shifting, wavering features and red eyes. Claws sprouted from the ends of darkness-shrouded members. Shadows followed and cloaked the creature as it moved. It had furry hooves, which explained the almost soundless trait of its steps. For all its strangeness, however, the creature possessed human-shaped ears. It peered around for a moment and then sprinted off. David leaned back and removed his hand from the stranger’s mouth.
“What the—” the man rasped, and David quickly covered his mouth again.
David spied around the corner. He shook his head and removed the hand.
“You must want to be eaten,” David whispered, standing back and helping the man up. The stranger stood awkwardly, groaning. “What was that? Who are you?”
“You…I…” the man stammered, exhausted. Then his mind caught up with him. “You saved my life. Thank you. I, uh, have to go.” He stepped around his rescuer and backwards up the alley.
David watched him go, more than a little surprised. “Suit yourself,” he replied, and walked away. He smirked to himself when the stranger followed, but tried to look exasperated when he turned around. “Yes?” he asked.
“What?” the man replied. “I’m headed this way.”
David guessed that was valid, shrugged again and strode on. He felt less confident when he remembered he was still lost. The other man didn’t seem to want to say anything.
“So,” David jabbed at him, “those sorts of things usually chase you around dark alleys?”
“No,” the stranger replied. “I’m not at liberty to discuss it, but no.”
Da
vid nodded thoughtfully. “Are you some sort of government guy?” he asked, walking by a suspiciously familiar looking refuse bin. He sniffed at the air, like he was developing a cold.
“What?” the stranger sounded shocked. “No, I…I’m in grad school.”
David frowned in the darkness at that thought. To give himself a moment to think, he stopped and inhaled strongly—and again. He discovered that he went up and down most of these alleys and considered the ones left would probably result in an exit. He confidently turned right and checked his watch.
“Man, it’s getting late,” he grumbled.
“So what were you doing out here?” the stranger asked.
David smiled in the darkness; he explained himself away to a thousand different people in a thousand different situations. Lying became easy when one did it over breakfast.
“Walking home, cut through the wrong alley.” It was actually sort of the truth, which he discovered was the key to convincing deception.
“You weren’t afraid?” The other man stepped closer to him.
“My family’s really big on self defense,” David replied, turning left and picking up his pace. Eventually, they got to a real street; from there, David determined he wasn’t but a few blocks from his apartment building. He turned around to face the stranger, finally able to study him in decent light. He certainly looked like a grad student, or at least an educated man in his late twenties, probably with low income. His appearance implied that whatever money he had, he didn’t spend on clothes; he wore a worn t-shirt and off brand wind breaker, worn jeans and sensible shoes.
“Well, nice to have saved you. Good luck with whatever that was,” David said, and began walking across the street. He crossed two lanes of the four before the stranger called out to him.
It wasn’t anything beyond the ordinary, given the immediate context, but overall, it was a significant decision for David to turn around and acknowledge the fact that the man was in trouble and needed help, but was too proud to ask. He would prefer to be too tired, or in too much of a hurry, or anything, to help, but he wasn’t. On the contrary, he itched for something to happen.