Ways of Darkness (Wolves of the Apocalypse Book 2)

by LC Champlin

  BOOM! Direct hit on—the iconic, idiotic heart statue in Union Square. As the smoke cleared, nothing remained of it or the cluster of cannibals around it.

  “Heart attack from Hell,” Nathan mumbled, his own heart chill. In a tsunami of chaos like this, the government would rule with a rod of iron and break their people like potshards, all in the name of security.

  “They want us farther back, preferably two miles,” Marc informed them as he reversed direction.

  Josephine held her camera on the Apache. “Make it slow.”

  Albin pushed from his seat. “I am opening the door,” he informed Marc. From the attorney’s hand dangled his ankle monitor. Not surprising. Bracing himself before the door and ignoring Jo’s protest, he hauled the slider aside. Wind, smog, and clamor stormed the cabin.

  “What are you doing?” the reporter yelped, grabbing him by the arm.

  Nathan put a restraining hand on the reporter’s shoulder.

  With gusts whipping his hair and clothes, Albin stood firm. A flick of the wrist, and the black tracking device plummeted through the spotlights to vanish in the roiling sea of inhumanity. Slam! The door slid shut, locking.

  The protectors died to him, and he died to them.

  He turned and looked to Nathan, who gave a wolf smile, fierce and triumphant. Brothers in battle, they would fight together like Odin’s legendary wolves Hati and Skoll, the sons of Fenrir the world-devouring arch-wolf. Just as Hati chased the sun’s chariot to keep the day on course, Nathan would guide a new day. Skoll chased the moon to bring the day, a fitting role for Albin.

  The amarok evolved.

  Jo recovered with, “I suppose that’s why we wear seat belts.”

  “We gotta pull back,” Marc warned. “You still want to go to the Armory, Jo?”

  “It’s as good a place as any.”

  Wrong. Nathan’s stomach clenched with his jaw. In theory he could find a generator, probably on the back of a hippie wagon, and liberate the required hardware from a computer repair shop. They could hole up in a vacant building. Blast, no, he required a more permanent solution.

  Idly he slipped his ankle monitor into a pocket.

  “This was supposed to be a safe zone!” Marvin spat. Face haggard, he stared at the warzone below. “The crap we risked our asses for at Birk’s house doesn’t make any sense either. What are we supposed to do with horror stories and game cards? What does a Mad God Oni and a Gutclencher Oni card mean?” He held up the two in question. Demons leered in their card windows. “There are newspaper clippings with them, too.”

  Nathan snatched them from Bridges. No headline on the first, only a paragraph about a prototype augmented reality app that would complement a virtual reality game system slated for release next year. The second contained a snippet about graphene for use in medical treatment, namely neural stimulators. Nothing earth shattering or even new, so he returned them.

  The night would only deepen as time went by. He needed a pillar of fire or at least a few arc lamps to keep the dark at bay while he figured out how to use the night.

  Albin adjusted the AR sling around his neck. “The government is losing control. It is beyond my ken why anyone trusted it this far.”

  Wait. Oni, augmented reality, ken. They fell into place like tumblers in a lock. “That’s it, Albin!” Thumping the blond on the shoulder in congratulations, Nathan grinned. “Genius.”

  “At times. But in what way, pray tell?”

  “Ken.”

  Pause. “You are referring to Kenichi Oshiro.”

  “His residence and headquarters in Silicon Valley, to be precise. It’s a long shot, but perhaps we’ll stumble across Badal and Mikhail while we’re there, assuming they’ve been trapped in the area.” Neither of Arete’s chief engineers would survive long in the wild.

  Albin rubbed his temples, eyes closed. “It is plausible they remained with him after their soirée.”

  “Highly, considering Mikhail used to work with Kenny. Ken’s not the type to evacuate anyway.” The inventor rarely left the comfort of his self-sufficient compound.

  “One can hardly blame him. He is well situated. The question, however, is if he will be amenable to accepting us as guests.”

  “He’ll be thrilled to have his rival in his debt.” The slippery bastard.

  Bracing his ribs, Nathan leaned forward to engage the pilot. “Marc, what’s the situation in Silicon Valley?”

  “Do we have a reporter down there?” Josephine asked. “I know the viewers will want to know how the ‘rich and famous’”—air quotes—“are handling this.”

  Marc glanced over his shoulder at her, pursing his lips below his helmet visor. “Look, you get one free cab ride only. I’m not your personal chauffeur.”

  “No, you’re my personal flight to get me to the news.”

  Marvin pried half his attention from the window, where the second Apache opened fire with its Gatling. “Let’s go before the black helicopters shoot us out of the sky.”

  The Eurocopter banked right and proceeded south in no rush. Below, headlights glowed in the streets like cracks in the earth’s crust, revealing magma beneath.

  “Look,” Marc began, “I’ll try to get clearance, but we’re lucky they let us fly at all after this shit-nami.”

  Nathan eased his phone out. Into the GPS went Ken’s address. “Our destination.” He handed it to the copilot.

  With a sigh, Nathan sank into the rotor hum. A spotlight from the ground slashed across the passengers’ faces, turned them lifeless as corpses—or cannibals. He jerked forward. The harness caught him, burying hot daggers in his ribs.

  Chapter 28

  Valley of the Shadow

  Walk on Water - Basshunter

  The chopper banked in a wide circle over Woodside, one of the most affluent neighborhoods in already-affluent Silicon Valley.

  “It looks pretty deserted down there,” Marc commented. Below, the Valley that brought the light of technology now lay in an expanse of darkness.

  ABC 7 Action News Josephine Behrmann began her report, statements of the obvious to the demigods in the news control room.

  Fires glowed here and there, tributes to the original long-distance communication method. The only non-fire light came from solar sidewalk lamps that glowed like bioluminescent sea life.

  When would the looters reach the valley of the shadow? Perhaps they had come and gone already.

  As for the residents, they’d either evacuated, or vacated their mansions earlier for a weekend trip to their retreats. A few would hole up in their panic rooms and bunkers. Ken did this every day, so unless Hell’s chief export had become ice, they would find him inside.

  “Anything on night vision?” Nathan asked.

  “Multimillion-dollar mansions, but nothing exciting.”

  “This is your stop,” Marc announced.

  A circle of light appeared—the chopper spotlight—illuminating a section of yard. The beam licked across shrubs, over an outbuilding, into a resort-size swimming pool, then along the roof of Ken’s mansion: three stories above ground, with an unknown number below. The compound enclosed ten acres, with the compound covering five in the center.

  “I’m going to set you in his yard,” Marc related.

  Nathan allowed a smile. At his side, Albin shared it. Electricity, water, and real beds. Beautiful.

  “Jo,” the pilot continued, his tone doubtful as the craft settled to earth, “are you coming back with us?”

  She reached over to play-punch him in the shoulder. “I said I need to see what’s going on in the Valley.” Smile—like a fisherman’s when he catches The Big One—back at the three men and the dog. “I want to see how far down the rabbit hole this is going to go.”

  Nathan matched her smile. “Do you want the red pill or the blue pill?”

  “I prefer to find out what reality is on my own.”

  With a snort, Marvin gave Judge a last pat. “I ju
st don’t wanna wake up in a tunnel with robots trying to kill me.”

  Retrieving the backpack, Albin remarked, “That may be preferable to what awaits us.” Ever the optimist.

  Belts clicked off, headphones snapped back into clips, gear shifted. Nathan deployed his semi-auto. Wait . . . Low-altitude transportation out of here. Satellite phone—and Internet. If he put the handgun against Marc’s helmet and ordered him out of the bird, or ordered him to take them farther—

  “Sir?”

  Weight on Nathan’s shoulder with a slight backward pressure. Albin. Nathan locked gazes with the blond. “Thank you . . . Marc.”

  “Yes.” Albin held the stare. “Thank you, sir.”

  They piled out, Albin on point with the AR up.

  So ended chopper ride number three since the cluster had begun. “Third time’s the charm,” Nathan breathed as he raised the .45 and P2X Surefire. The beam slipped across shrubs and cherry trees.

  Once clear of the chopper’s footprint, they paused to watch the aircraft lift into the night. Landing lights illuminated its belly as the silhouette blocked the stars. Flying a stolen chopper would no doubt bring more headaches than he anticipated anyway. Deep in his mind, Hati snarled, savaging the temptation to say screw it and flee.

  “Josephine, Marvin, follow our lead. Let me do the talking. Why aren’t your weapons up?”

  The pair fumbled said weapons into ready positions.

  “Let’s go. Ken knows we’re here.”

  “A chopper landing is hardly low key.” This from Albin.

  They started forward, knees bent, centers of gravity low.

  “You don’t seem confident of a warm welcome,” Josephine observed as they followed the driveway curve toward the front door.

  “Ken is . . .” Not a recluse, not anti-social, just . . . “He’s cautious.”

  “Ken Oshiro,” Josephine murmured as she swept the side bushes with her Sig Sauer. “That’s why he sounds familiar! He’s a pioneer in virtual and augmented reality.”

  Marvin piped up: “He’s a hell of a genius. I’ve played some of the games he helped create. Faithful Dark was a real mind bender.”

  A smile tugged at Nathan’s lips. Faithful Dark’s storyline had emerged from a series of conversations he’d had with the inventor. Ken could look into the abyss and see the light at the other end. He could also look into the sun and see the night.

  “But he’s supposed to be a nut,” the economist added. “I guess eccentric is the word, since he’s rich.”

  “He’s crazy like a fox,” Nathan corrected.

  “That’s reassuring.” Josephine gave the mansion a doubtful once-over.

  Ksssht-snap.

  About face. Sights hovered over a cannibal thirty yards away, beyond Ken’s ten-foot iron gate. Bloody hell, they reached this far already? A second monster emerged into the light, its white face snarling.

  Ssssssaaahhh!

  Their heads fell back as rhythmic contractions seized their torsos. Black projectile vomit blasted through the bars.

  Judge snarled, ears flattening and teeth flashing.

  “Sir, shall I engage?” Engaging meant gunfire in a quie—No, not the Q word. In a still neighborhood.

  “No.”

  Sidling, training the XD-S on the hostiles, Nathan took rear guard. The mansion lay thirty yards off. Josephine hovered in his periphery, her handgun covering the right flank.

  The cannibals gripped the bars and began attempting to climb. They made no headway.

  Hssst!

  Sparks crackled in the chest of each cannibal, then the monsters froze, still clinging to the fence.

  Chapter 29

  Yellow Springs

  This is Not a Test - TobyMac

  Tasers? Nathan’s flashlight beam traced the glinting wires back to the bushes. Ken fused feng shui with firepower.

  Josephine laughed in disbelief. “It’s booby trapped? Are you serious?”

  “Keep moving.” The cannibals’ incapacitation lasted only as long as the current.

  Rounding the last curve in the drive, Nathan hissed for them to stop. Their flashlight beams played over the structure ahead. The walls appeared even darker red than their usual arterial-blood hue. Black supports crisscrossed the structure to meet at the pagoda roof, which divided, mutating into three spikes. The pattern repeated for the structures that jutted from either side to embrace visitors.

  In the Oshiro mansion, Tao shrine met postmodern influences. And screwed, spawning—“Yomi-no-Kuni Oshiro.” Oshiro for short.

  “Gesundheit. What’s all that mean?” Josephine asked from behind.

  Coming abreast of Nathan, Marvin whispered, “I always wanted to see the Yellow Springs Fortress, but not during a real-life survival-horror event.”

  That sound, like water flowing. Then hearing took a backseat to smell. Rotten-egg stench powerful enough to taste climbed into Nathan’s nose.

  Muzzle up, Judge sniffed the air and whined.

  “Is that sewage?” Josephine gagged.

  “Sulfur,” Albin grunted as he advanced.

  Marvin padded past.

  “Marvin—”

  The economist flashed his light to the left, around the wall of shrubs. “Holy nightmare fuel, Batman.” The groups’ beams washed over a ten-foot-tall mound of yellow rocks glittering in the water that gurgled down them. Faces peered out amid the stones, visages of suffering, wrath, fear. Others barely looked human.

  Josephine stifled a gasp “They’re carved!”

  Nathan cocked his head at the tribute to Ken’s love of the underworld. “Oni and their victims. Let’s go before we have more guests.”

  With a snort, Albin turned back toward the mansion entrance.

  Face contorted in disgust and confusion, the reporter trotted to his side. “Why on Earth—”

  Marvin cut her off. “One guess what place the sulfur and monster faces represent. And it’s not the Metro.”

  “That was my first guess. So . . . Hell?”

  Marvin chuckled. “You should play Faithful Dark. In the game, we would find the kami, the dark gods, inside the ‘great fortress,’ the Oshiro.”

  “Well then.” Stepping toward the Oshiro’s door, Nathan reached for the oni-headed knocker. “Time to greet the gods.” A hand on his shoulder stopped him. Marvin?

  “If that rotten-egg tower is from the game, and if Ken is as odd as the rumors say, hold on a minute. When the gods locked down the fortress in Faithful Dark, you didn’t just walk up and ring the doorbell. You had to be humble.”

  The knocker grinned but revealed nothing. “You have a point.”

  “Hold on.” Jo. Again. “This is a double of some computer game?”

  Ignoring her, Nathan eased down to his knees on the doorstep. Humble.

  “There!” The economist’s flashlight pointed to the right lower corner of the door, to a kanji character the size of a quarter. “It means light.”

  “Let’s hope so.” Nathan pressed the symbol.

  Floodlights blazed from the mansion’s flanking wings. Squinting, he struggled to his feet as the door swung open. A bright entry hall with a polished crimson granite floor stretched before them. Above, a steel chandelier whose branches intertwined poured light like ice water over the empty room. From an alcove in each wall watched the masks of Samurai warriors atop their armor torsos. Usually blank, these masks’ eyes glowed blue.

  “Kenichi Oshiro!” Nathan called, .45 in hand. “It’s Nathan Serebus. Albin Conrad and two friends are with me. I have something you want to see.”

  “The floor!” Marvin caught Nathan’s shoulder again.

  “I’m aware.” Ken had mentioned that trap before. “Ken, I hate to see you waste power electrifying the floor.” The mask eyes continued to glow, ghosts of Ken’s ancestors ready to defend the Oshiros—both human and architectural.

  “This place is booby trapped?” Jo whispered, thunderstruck.
>
  Marvin cleared his throat. “In the game, the whole Oshiro was booby trapped. But I had a cheat code.”

  “Humble . . .” Ken demanded that people approach him with humility when asking for favors. “We need your help, Ken-san. I can’t do this without you.” Pause. Nothing. “What do you want me to say? That Arete isn’t fit to lick the sandals of ONI? Fine. This situation is bigger than anything either of us has ever faced. Truce?”

  “The cannibals are inside the fence!”

  Jo’s whisper jerked Nathan toward the driveway like a physical force. Up the driveway crept the two Dalits. They threw their heads back. Ssssssaaaahhh!

  His XD-S rose. “Take them down.”

  Bang-bang! Then two thuds as meat hit concrete. Black blood spread from the cannibals’ skulls, flowed downhill. Neither shot had come from him, Albin, or the others. They sounded suppressed.

  Inside, the mask eyes went dark. Muscles tense, Nathan stepped onto the blood-red granite. Nothing happened, other than that his Nikes squeaked when he took another step.

  The door swung shut behind the pack of invaders. Click. On the right wall, a panel the size of a double door slid open. A receiving room waited.

  Pistol close and ready, Nathan raised a hand. “Marvin, Jo, stay back.” Albin at his right, he entered.

  White walls. White floor. The room’s center hosted a bonsai tree on a traditional Japanese table, which came just past ankle height.

  “Skulls.” Albin twitched the AR barrel toward the tree. Tiny skulls of various species decorated the bonsai’s base.

  “Is it safe?” Josephine waited an inch away from the threshold.

  “Nathan-san!”

  Nathan flinched at the . . . tree’s exclamation?

  Chapter 30

  Oshiro

  Wolves at the Door - Bad Seed Rising

  “You look terrible!” Amusement in the bonsai’s tone.