Making there way downstairs, it looked as if a bomb had exploded in nearly every room, bits and pieces of furniture lay everywhere. Even the door to the living room was hanging off its hinges. Chris could see that a thick layer of ash covered everywhere.
Anvil strode out of the kitchen into the hallway, grey ash swirled around each step he took,
“Bastards put up one heck of a fight.” He shook ash from the head of his hammer.
Priest was nursing a cut over his left eye, “Agreed.” The cut healed when he mumbled a prayer.
The front room that Priest had been in looked as if a giant wrecking ball had rolled around and around several times before bursting out through the window which was not only smashed and missing its frame but several feet of brick wall.
“They sent thirty Shades and several Ghouls in through the window. I’m afraid I’ve messed the place up somewhat.” Priest was covered in ash and rotting bits of flesh.
Slash had blood dripping down from his left hand, Chris could see he had a rip in the leather sleeve high up on his right arm. “Good job I can throw with both hands.” It was a joke that fell flat.
Huntress walked over to him,” Let me see that.”
She examined the rip, “Looks bad or you’d be healing by now.”
Slash shrugged his shoulder, “You know it always takes me longer to heal than you lot. Hey how bad? I’ve only got the one bloody arm.”
She looked him in the eye, “You’ll need a new jacket.”
“Thanks a bunch.” Slash looked slightly hurt.
Huntress playfully slapped his cheek, “Joking. I think you’ll need a few of our fast dissolving stitches. It’s a deep wound, but with the stitches it should heal by morning.”
Whilst she was seeing to Slash, Hot Cross was talking to Rage, “See me fry them big boy.”
Rage cracked his knuckles,” Too busy smashing heads to look.”
Hot Cross allowed a feeble ark of blue electricity to flash from hand to hand, “I need to re-charge before they attack again.” He walked over to a power socket and held one hand over the plug holes.
Sparks flashed up and along his arm, “Ah that’s better.”
Rage looked over to Priest and the dried blood which moments ago was a two inch gash,” How you let a Shade or a Ghoul do that to you man?”
Priest touched the dried blood,” Wasn’t a Shade. I walked into the hall and some idiot threw the coffee table at me.”
Rage looked embarrassed,” Was kicking Shade, he moved into hall, I followed with table, he ducked sorry.”
Speed fluttered nervously around the room, “Saw you squash dozens against the wall Priest man. Splat! Just before the table got you.”
Chris noticed Speed’s face was flushed bright red, so did Anvil. “Speed go sit down, you’re overheating again. You know if you get to hot you only have a fit and we don’t need that right now.”
Speed sat down on the floor with his back against the wall. Chris could actually see a heat haze coming up off his head. Patch went into the kitchen and came back with a water bottle which she threw to Speed. He nodded his thanks, gulping the water down quickly, “Got too many to count.”
Anvil asked each one for a battle report. It appeared they had destroyed one hundred and eighty Shades and a dozen Ghouls before the rest suddenly broke off the attack.
Huntress was retrieving her arrows from the hallway, “First time so many Ghouls sent in as well.”
Chris asked Patch, “What the hell was a Ghoul.”
“Something Edge uses. He gets the bodies from the graveyards. They can be harder to kill than a Shade but move around in Real time, so he’s reluctant to use many.”
“But how...”
Patch shushed him and held her hand up again to get Anvils attention, explaining about Ghosts arrival. Anvil was angry she hadn’t called him.
“You were busy, just like all the rest. Besides Bulls Eye was riddling her with holes, it slowed her up some. Besides she can’t kill me yet. Wars not officially declared.”
“Why did you let her envelop you, I thought you where quicker than that.”
Her face went a deep shade of red. Chris guessed the answer straight away.
“I think she was distracted looking after me.”
Priest tut tutted,”Good job Bulls Eye drove her away.”
“I couldn’t get a shot off without hitting Patch.”
Anvil looked confused,” Then what….”
Quickly Patch explained what Chris had done to the Dark One called Ghost. Priest blessed himself again when she’s finished, “Judgement.”
Anvil nodded, “Let’s hope there won’t be any more attacks tonight. Edge will be spending most of it healing Ghost and he hates letting Shadow take charge of an attack. Did he get involved in the fighting?”
Priest shook his head, “Stayed outside, controlled the Shades. Ran off when Ghost was injured.”
He walked over to Chris and shook his hand,” Welcome to the team kid, excuse me, Judgement.”
Anvil slapped a hand on Chris’s shoulder, “Tomorrow we move to a new home and you get to see Alina and Alfredo.”
Chris looked around at Anvils people, “More members of the team. I thought you said there can only be twelve?”
Slash explained, “Not like us mate, different. They’re our blooming tailors! Now will someone please stitch up this damn cut before I bleed to death.”
Speed slid to a stop in front of Slash, his hands moved in a blur of action, when he’s finished not only was Slash’s cut stitched but also his leather jacket. He smiled and was gone in a blink of an eye.
Slash started to thank him, when he bellowed, “Speed you idiot, you’ve stitched the jacket into the wound!”
Speed was outside checking the perimeter, his reply drifted in from outside the open back door, “You never take the God damn thing off so stop griping. Now leave me alone, got to be on point duty in case they attack again.”
Priest bellowed loudly to one and all,”Will you all bloody well stop blaspheming!”
Chris ignored him as he spoke to Anvil,”Now will I get to wear Leather?”
Anvil smiled, “Like I said, it’s become our uniform. Welcome to the club.”
Chris grinned, it had been a long time since he’d worn clean clothes let alone expensive ones made just for him, “I want a Beatles style 70’s jacket, you know, single vent, thin leather, narrow lapels, two buttons. You can keep the leather trousers though, jeans will do. Pointed leather boots, not sure about the shirt, possibly a black cotton one with a round necked leather collar. No tie. I hate ties.” He was still grinning from ear to ear.
Anvil looked him up and down,”You don’t get it yet do you kid.”
Chris’s grin faded, “What do you mean?”
“What we are brings a whole new meaning to the phrase.’ It’s the clothes that maketh the man. In our case it’s the man that maketh the clothes”
Anvil left Chris to contemplate on that statement and went over to talk privately with Priest.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” Anvil asked.
Priest glanced at Chris and whispered, “Yes. The Dark get to declare war. It’s a long time coming.”
Anvil rubbed ash from the head of his weapon, “I wonder why Ghost tried to kill Patch. Until war is declared, she wouldn’t have been able to.”
Priest rubbed his many chins, “Bulls Eye told me Ghost was dragging her towards the window before Chris filled her with holes.”
“Kidnap you mean?”
Priest had no answer and kicked at a pile of ash, “They find us and try to slow us down with injuries. Because of the status quo, you kill any of them and they recruit others. Edge kills any of us and we recruit and so on and so on. I think with the arrival of Judgement, that’s all going to change. Our job was to find Shade nests and destroy as many as possible, in order to save as many souls as possible. Now when wars declared, I think it will be to find and wipe out The Dark.”
Anvil remembered a major battle at an old iron works in Newcastle in the 1650’s. The results had seen at least four hundred and eighty Shades and twenty Ghouls destroyed. But the fight had included a chance encounter with three of Edges team, Shadow, Leech and Rust Face, an iron skinned monstrosity. It had taken eight months alone for Huntress to re attach her bow arm and six for Slash’s disembowelment to heal. They had killed Rust Face by Wings lifting him from the ground and dropping them both in a Vat of sulphuric acid. A noble sacrifice indeed. Anvil remembered wings. If ever a man could resemble an angel it was wings. He could out fly anything in the air. Had small razor sharp talons and eyes that could see in the dark. It had been an upset to loose Wings but a shock to loose Steel. The man was literally made of flexible steel and Anvil thought him indestructible. Steel had destroyed Fracture, a monster that was all muscle, sinew and bone. The thing lived up to its name but was no match for Steel. Anvil could still hear Steels mighty blows crushing the creature to pulp. But Edge had managed to kill him in return. Those damn blades of his! He remembered the look of amazement on Steels face as the blades sank into his metallic heart.
So now if it means an all out war against Edge and The Dark, plus who ever his Chosen One will be. What then?
“What does the Prophesy say about the coming war?” He asked.
Priest shook his head, causing several folds of fat around his neck to wobble, “A bit hazy. Most likely come to me in my sleep tonight or tomorrow. That’s the way it happens, you know that.”
Anvil took hold of Priest by the arm and drew him in close, “You once told me that when Judgement arrives. He will be called upon to do battle unto death with The Dark. Not us but he.”
“Did I? Oh yes that was a prophesy foretold unto me some eight hundred years ago. Good memory. What is your point?”
“Priest, does it bloody well mean that Judgement has to kill those bastards all by himself?”
“Don’t blaspheme, far too much of that taking place. Look the simple answer is I don’t know.”
Priest belched again, “But it may come to me tonight. Let’s sleep on it. Now what about moving house. What about that warehouse down by the Thames?”
Anvil considered the question, realising Priest was changing the topic of conversation, “The old ship yard warehouse at the Isle of Dogs. It’s a strong solid eight floor building, easy to defend. Outside walls are five foot thick. Stair cases are all blocked off with cement and breeze block rubble. One secret fire exit built into a false wall. Only way up is via a large goods elevator, which can be operated either by mains electricity, portable generator or manual pulley. It’s one of our major fortifications. I was keeping it such an occasion. ”
Priest considered it, “Water gas?”
Anvil nodded, “It’s being guarded by the private security firm we set up with false details years ago. Surprisingly it’s one of our companies that the Government uses. It’s proved to be a very good financial provider to our war funds. Roof’s solid, as are the narrow block glass windows and four foot thick walls. I had all of the windows on the bottom floor bricked up and the walls coated with spray on holy water. Water supply and an electrical supply are present. I will have both re-connected by noon tomorrow. We can use the van (An old Ford transit used only twice over the last ten years) to transport the used furniture we will buy from the same auctioneers daily sale. “(Anvil always dealt in cash)
“Living accommodation is on the forth and fifth floors.”
Priest was always amazed by the detail Anvil knew of each property they owned, but then again, that was one of his functions, procurement and protection,” What happens if they find us?”
“Every floor leading up or down to ours, are heavily booby trapped.”
Priest slapped him on the shoulder, “Good then lets get a move on. We have three hours before dawn.”
The Dark surprised them by not attacking again that night. Came the dawn, Anvil had Hot Cross, Bulls Eye and Speed in street clothes, out in the van buying a ton of used furniture. By five pm that day, as dusk was settling, they had the warehouse ready for occupation. Rage and Priest carried up the heavy stuff, Speed moved most of the light stuff all by himself. Of course Huntress and Patch organised where everything was to go. Six pm and the house was deserted, empty and abandoned.
At eight pm, Edge stood in the deserted living room with Shadow, looking around at the empty ash covered floor. Claws scuttled down stairs to enter the room, she hissed out the single word, “Empty.”
Edge stared the ash with his foot, “It’s as our spy said.”
Then to Shadow, he commanded, “Burn it down to the ground.”
Turning he walked out the room and away from the house with Claws scuttling along besides him. Shadows flame that beat within his transparent chest grew and expanded. He turned towards the curtains on the front window and the flame spit fire across the room to ignite the material. He casually walked from room to room, setting fire to anything that would burn. Walking back through the flames that were quickly consuming the house, he left via the front door, striding out onto the street.
A passing male dog walker stopped and gawked at the ghost like figure. Shadow had allowed him to see his form and smirked. Floating across the ground he stopped directly in front of the man. The dog, a small white poodle, growled and tried to nip at his leg. Shadow reached down and pretended to pat the dog.
“Good dog.” His voice sounded like a low whisper echoing through the night sky.
“What are you?” The man whimpered.
Shadow smiled, “People used to call me the Candle of Death. Do you know why?” He whispered.
All the petrified man could do was shake his head as he clutched the dog lead tightly.
“Let me show you.”
A moment later Shadow entered the In Between place and hurried to catch up with his master. Leaving behind a screaming burning figure running wildly down the street, his poodle standing at the kerb, untouched but shaking with fright, the end of its lead blackened and burnt.
Chapter three
“Tell us again what you did to Ghost?”
The Twelve sat around a tri- sided electric fire, on various different types and different coloured leather settees, and arm chairs, in the centre of a large warehouse area on the forth floor of what Patch fondly called The Fortress. The warehouse area was of course far bigger than they needed. A large thirty foot square second hand rug lay on the bare concrete floor in the centre of the two hundred by one hundred and forty multi pillared floor space. The huge industrial electric heater rested on four flag stones, on top of the rug, with a cable running a hundred feet across the floor to a wall socket over by the lift. Various different pieces of furniture scattered around the warehouse gave the place an eclectic look. One big area down at the northern end of the floor, had a false plasterboard wall enclosing a sixty foot by a one hundred foot rectangle area, joined in a line to six iron pillars that ran across the width of the floor every twenty feet or so. The area was subdivided into twelve bedrooms with on suite bathrooms. Anvils private security company took care of the construction many years ago. This included the kitchen area and drainage. The kitchen and bedrooms were all raised up on false floors to allow for drainage pipes and electric cabling etc.
“Chris, come on tell us again what you did to Ghost?”
The person belonging to the question stood with his head buried inside the open double doors of a very large grey American fridge/freezer, over in the kitchen area at the southern end of the floor. Stepping back with a plate of spicy cold cooked chicken wings and a tin of coke in his hands, Priest looked expectantly towards Chris who was seated (as usual) next to Patch on one of the settees, together with Huntress and Slash.
Chris hadn’t been paying attention. It had been three weeks since they’d moved here. He’d helped with unloading the old battered van, but only managed to get in Rages way. He’d never seen someone carry a large double settee on each shoulder before. He used the big
old fashioned service lift, to ride up to the forth floor with strict instructions not to get off at any of the others. Bulls Eye had smiled when Chris asked why and had simply mimicked a large explosion.
Chris had insisted on a television. A nice forty inch flat screen with Free sat included. It stood in a corner near the kitchen area, with a large rug in front of it, surrounded on either side with two large bookcases, filled with very old hard backed books. It appeared the rest of team liked to read instead of watching TV. But right now he was sitting next to Patch on a three setter settee in front of the TV watching an old film starring Gary Copper. Patch was admiring his new leather outfit. Although he was staring at the film, Chris was remembering meeting the tailors who’d supplied his clothes.
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