Message Bearer (The Auran Chronicles Book 1)

by Dobing, M. S.

  ‘Calm down you stupid shit, you’re not going to die, okay?’ Paul said, pinning Moss down and ripping open the flailing man’s shirt.

  ‘It still fucking hurts. Damn I wanna go back, I wanna stick that bastard for what he did.’

  ‘Shut up, both of you! We’re out of here. We’ve drawn too much attention to ourselves already.’ Luchar said, eyeing the rear view mirror. They’d left survivors at the scene. At least eight dead. The response would be immediate. They had to get off-site before reinforcements arrived.

  ‘What about Sylph?’ Paul said.

  ‘She can take care of herself.’ Luchar said, swallowing down the sick feeling in his stomach. Marek would not be pleased, regardless of the fact they were only following orders.

  ‘We’re not waiting for her?’

  Luchar whipped the van round a bend at high speed as another car crossed their path. The three men in the back slammed against the door. Paul grunted. Moss screamed.

  Just make it back.

  ‘Stay still! Don’t move!’

  Sylph obeyed the order, remaining as still as stone. The nearest police officer circled to one side, aiming a firearm at her head. She sensed another one coming up behind her, reaching for one of her wrists above her head. Behind him were two more, both on edge, both with weapons trained on her. She sensed something else too, a feral sheol, very close, Drawn to death and violence like sharks to blood.

  She had no choice now. She waited until the officer’s fingers alighted upon her wrist, and acted.

  Using the Weave in full force was not an option; their Consensus would not allow a sudden change in reality, so she used it subtly, as she’d been trained to. She channelled it to her arms and legs, increasing strength and speed. She funnelled it to her mind, enhancing synaptic function to the point that time slowed down compared to those around her.

  She gripped the officer’s wrist, twisting it hard, breaking bone, forcing him back as he howled in pain. Without looking, she lashed out sideways with her other hand, the one that held the knife in a reverse grip in her sleeve. The weapon flew like a dart, embedding itself to the hilt in the other officer’s neck. The man sagged to his knees choking on his own blood.

  The other two officers raised their weapons, their minds sending instructions to their muscles to pull the trigger, but they were slow, so slow, compared to her. She ripped the pistol from the still falling officer’s holster, flicking off the safety and bringing it to bear in one smooth action. She snapped off two shots, each hitting their targets. The men were dead before they hit the ground.

  She rounded on the one remaining officer. He kneeled before her, clutching his broken arm. He stared at her through his visor, tear-filled eyes begging for mercy.

  ‘Please, don’t,’ he said.

  A shriek. A screech of nightmares. It howled in her ears, making her wince. The wraith coalesced behind the man, black eyes glinting across the Void.

  She aimed the gun at the man.

  ‘No. Please, no!’

  ‘I’m sorry. I truly am.’ Her hand shook. The pistol wobbled.

  Confusion flashed across his eyes. Then the change began, the sheol diving into a mind paralysed by fear. His veins bulged as his hands raked against his helmet, nails breaking, smearing the visor in blood. The man’s eyes scrunched shut as he let out a howl that was part human, part daemon. His eye reopened. Pools of black stared back at her.

  ‘Back you go,’ she said, and fired.

  She shoved the pistol into the back of her pants and retrieved her knife from its last known location in the other officer’s throat. She wiped it on his shirt before shoving it back into the sheath on her arm. She took a quick scan of the room, feeling no satisfaction in the kills, trying to seek assurance in the fact that the fate she’d given them was much better than the alternative.

  Without a second look, her purpose served, Sylph left the mortuary, heading for home.

  Chapter 4

  Consciousness came slowly to Seb, in random fits and starts. It started with vague noises and half-formed words. Not quite understandable, but there nonetheless. He heard the words condition and chances several times. They never sounded positive.

  One day, he opened his eyes. Only fleetingly. Unconsciousness wasn’t quite ready to let him go just yet. A white room. A bed with metal bars at the end. Something large and grey by his side. A mask covered his mouth, pumping his chest with a cold and metallic-tasting gas.

  He drifted back into unconsciousness.

  Over time, the periods of wakefulness became more frequent. His memory returned, allowing him to add context to the sight before him. The room was in a hospital. Something large, scary and no doubt keeping him alive was hooked into his body at various entry points. The machine bleeped and whirred with reassuring frequency.

  The memory of that night was never far from his mind. The girl – Sarah, was that her name? That thing. That terrifying horror that killed her and gutted him. How he’d survived was beyond him. Had someone called the police? Someone on the road it must’ve been, although that was a surprise in itself. The people of that neighbourhood hated authority in all its guises, the police being the top of the pile. Still, whatever had happened, he owed someone his life, he was grateful for that.

  One morning, apparently seven days after he was brought in, he awoke to find the mask had gone. The machine was still there, but most of the sensors and tubes were now detached. A drip hung high to his left, trickling god-knows-what chemicals into his body. He tried to sit up, but yelped and winced when he felt the stabbing pain in his side. He looked down at the thick bandage that covered his abdomen. The dressing had clearly been dressed that day, but already a faint patch of claret was staining the underneath.

  ‘Good, you’re awake.’

  He looked up. A middle-aged Asian doctor was hovering at the edge of his head. His eyes peered over the tablet he held in his right hand.

  ‘Am I in the Vic?’ Seb said. Easing himself upright.

  ‘Good, at least your memory is intact,’ the doctor said with a professional smile. ‘You had quite a rough ride there.’

  ‘Will I live?’

  The doctor smiled again, an obviously well-practiced manoeuvre designed to put patients at ease. Seb found it was working and he didn’t complain.

  ‘I’d hope so, barring a meteorite striking the hospital from the heavens. You’ve received a deep wound to your side, but luckily it passed right through without hitting anything too valuable, purely tissue damage.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, and meant it. ‘Thanks, Doctor?’

  ‘Khan. And you’re welcome. There’s too much of these kinds of attacks going on in our streets. I’m just glad I’m able to help, not everyone is as lucky as you were.’

  Doctor Khan smiled again, but the warmth had left his face. He seemed to remember himself after a moment. He keyed something into the tablet.

  ‘Now you’re awake, I was wondering if we could get some details from you. You had no ID on you, and we haven’t been able to inform a next of kin.’

  It was then that Seb noticed the two figures just outside the door. Great. Police.

  Doctor Khan noticed his change in mood. He glanced at the door before stepping in front of the door, obscuring Seb’s view of the two figures.

  ‘The police,’ he said. They have their own questions for you.’ He looked down at him. ‘When you’re ready.’

  Seb nodded. ‘What do you need to know?’

  ‘Let’s start with your name, shall we?’

  ‘Seb.’

  ‘Seb?’

  He paused. Doctor Khan looked again.

  ‘Seb Wilkinson.’

  ‘Age?’

  ‘Twenty.’

  ‘Address?’

  ‘No fixed abode.’

  ‘Nowhere? Not a hostel or shelter?’

  ‘Nope,’ he said, before adding, ‘I like the streets.’

  Doctor Khan nodded, that sad smile making another appearance.

&
nbsp; ‘Is there someone we can notify that you’re here?’

  ‘No. No one.’

  Seb gave him his best no further comment look. Doctor Khan seemed to get the message. He closed the cover on the tablet.

  ‘That’s all I need for now. But listen, Seb,’ he said, lowering the tablet and resting his hands at the edge of the bed. Here it comes. ‘I don’t want to preach. Everyone has the right to live their life the way they want, but there are people you know, people who can listen, who can help. You don’t have to do this alone.’

  It was the same speech he’d heard time and again. He didn’t get angry anymore, what was the point? At least Khan seemed sincere rather than some of the box-ticking do-gooders he’d met so many times before. He gave him his best, most thankful smile, ‘Thanks, appreciate that,’ he said.

  Khan sighed, not convinced. ‘Okay, Seb, a nurse will come to change your dressing shortly.’ He looked back at the door. ‘How do you feel about the police coming in? I can send them on their way if you want, until you’re ready?’

  ‘Thanks, Doctor, but send them in, I’ll get it over with.’

  ‘As long as you’re sure?’

  ‘I am.’

  Doctor Khan opened the door and nodded to the officers outside. The two men stepped in. The first one, a tall man – although not as tall as that thing – spoke first.

  ‘Hello…’ He looked down at his own tablet. ‘…Seb. I’m Detective Inspector Woodbridge, this is Detective Sergeant Darnton,’ he said, nodding to the younger man behind him.

  ‘Hello, officers,’ Seb said.

  ‘I guess you know why we’re here. Care to tell us about it?’

  He told them pretty much everything. There was no point in holding back. He’d seen movies where people held back the truth, fearing that it made them look crazy, but that wasn’t real life. He knew what he saw. He wasn’t going to try and explain it away with rationalities. That was their job.

  He told them of the thing. The fiend. He told them how it oozed out of the shadows from nowhere. He told them of the black eyes, the terrifying, distended jaw. He told them of the blade that Sarah stuck in its chest. The one it plucked out like it was nothing more than a toothpick. He told them all of it. He had to. Not for him. He didn’t matter, he knew that. He was just another statistic in this town. He did it for her. For Sarah. He didn’t know her from Adam, but somehow he just knew that she wasn’t just another stray that had fallen through the cracks. She’d died protecting him and she deserved whatever he could give her.

  The whole tale took barely ten minutes, but it felt like five times that. When he’d finished he collapsed back into the bed. His back was awash with sweat and a slight tremble had taken his hands.

  The officers, to their credit, listened. They asked the right questions at the right time, nodded and murmured at logical pauses. They didn’t crack a joke, raise an eyebrow or challenge his testimony. They qualified his description of the thing, right down to the dagger-teeth and massive oval eyes. They took it all down, noting it on their little pads.

  ‘Thank you for this information, you’ve told us a great deal.’

  Darnton slid the tablet back into his jacket. The officers exchanged a troubled look.

  ‘What is it?’ Seb said.

  Darnton looked at his superior. Woodbridge nodded. Approval granted.

  ‘Seb,’ Darnton continued, ‘other things have been happening, things that don’t make sense at this time. Most of these we don’t need to speak to you about, but one thing you should be aware of is that yesterday evening the mortuary where Sarah’s body is being held was broken into.’

  ‘What? Why is that relevant?’

  ‘We would say it probably isn’t, aside from the fact that whoever broke in seemed to have an interest in Sarah’s corpse.

  Darnton shook his head, reading the expression that crossed Seb’s face. ‘No, not like that, but she was disturbed nonetheless. I know you don’t have any prior associations with Sarah, but we feel it is best that a guard is placed by your room, just to be sure.’

  Seb nodded. Nothing he’d heard made sense, and why should it? He was just the unlucky sod who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Yet why did he feel uneasy? There was something else, something he’d forgotten in his recollection that nagged at the back of his mind.

  ‘Something the matter?’

  ‘No. No, sorry, just taking it in.’

  Woodbridge nodded, seemingly satisfied. He gave Darnton a we’re-getting-out-of-here look before turning back.

  ‘That will be all for now, Mr Wilkinson. We may have some follow on questions, if that’s ok?’

  ‘It’s not like I’ll be jogging a marathon anytime soon,’ he said, putting on his best insincere smile.

  Woodbridge glanced at the growing blood patch. ‘Quite,’ he said, before turning towards the door, Darnton in tow.

  Seb stared after them for a while, watching their silhouettes vanish out of sight beyond the window. Another shadow replaced them. Uniformed. His guard, he assumed. The officer took up position outside his room as the detectives’ footsteps echoed down the corridor, fading away into silence. A chill took him, and he pulled the sheets up, although he knew it wasn’t related to the temperature. The sun was setting, casting long shadows in the room. Previously, he’d welcomed the night. It was his domain, his sanctuary. All that had changed now though. With the night, this first night of awareness since he woke, he was acutely aware that it was out there, that thing of nightmares. He wondered if he would ever sleep again.

  Chapter 5

  At some point he fell asleep. It was a restless slumber, his dreams haunted by images of that night. The shame of his inability to act was the worst. He didn’t consider himself brave, but never before had he thought himself a coward. Yet, the girl had died, not giving up until the very end. He had whimpered. He had cried, and then he had nearly died himself.

  He woke with a jolt, the image of those malice-filled eyes fading from his mind. His heart thumped like a jack hammer. He sat up straight and reached for the water by his bed. His mouth was parched and his head throbbed.

  A noise outside caused him to pause, jug in mid pour. Had he imagined it? A trick of an overexcited mind? He forced the feeling down with a shake of his head. It was probably nothing, but he noted the location of the alarm by the bed all the same. He continued to pour.

  Another noise. The squeak of trainers on the tiled floor. A voice sounded, first out of curiosity before rising into a shrill, brief scream that ended as quickly as it started.

  Oh God, not again!

  He grasped at the panic button. He pressed it once. Twice. Come on, come on. He pressed it a third time, dropping it to the floor as a shadow appeared at the window. He let out a groan, barely a whimper, as the shadow shuffled towards the door. The handle turned with a squeak, the door drifting open.

  A woman in a nurse’s uniform ambled in, her stoop so severe she was almost bent double. That instinct flared again, the same sensation of dread as that night, not that he needed a sixth sense to recognise that this was another inhuman aberration. What the hell did they want with him? The woman ambled to a halt as the door closed shut behind her. She faced him side on, her head suddenly snapping in his direction with a sickening crack.

  He hammered at the alarm in his hand. Where the hell were they?

  ‘Well, well. Look what we have here,’ the woman cackled. Her hands were raised up to her chest, fingers bent forwards, wicked-looking nails curled down towards the ground. She turned to face him fully, her movement jerky, her head twisting on her neck at almost impossible angles.

  Then he saw the eyes. Black as oil.

  ‘Oh god!’ Hot tears stung his cheeks. His mind seemed to retreat, trying to send him somewhere far away.

  ‘Who are you trying to call?’ The woman croaked, shuffling forwards. ‘The nurse?’ She stopped, holding up the badge on her tunic. ‘Me?’ she said, laughing, the noise like razor blades scraping st
one.

  He shook his head. This wasn’t happening! This wasn’t happening! He tried to back up in his bed but the pain screamed through him, pinning him in place. White spots exploded in his vision.

  ‘Please, don’t...’ he managed to whimper.

  ‘Oh don’t worry, Dear,’ she said, shuffling ever closer. ‘I only need your heart. I don’t know what’s been given to you, but it will taste divine.’

  She was almost on him when he noticed the shimmering in the air behind the woman. Something crackled. The shimmer behind the woman rippled outwards, like a pebble dropping in a pond. Another figure appeared, a shadow with two striking yellow eyes which stared at him from the dark.

  The woman didn’t seem to feel the arrival behind her, but she noticed the change in Seb’s focus. She began to turn just as the shadow leapt, a dark blade flashing in the light as a gloved hand gripped her jaw, forcing it upright. The blade drew a line across her throat, black blood spewing forth. The woman looked simply bemused as she collapsed into a heap.

  The shadow stepped forwards, entering the light of the lamp. It was a he, a young man, not far from his own age. The man’s skin was pale, almost a translucent shade of grey. His lips were dark, the colour of ruby. It was the eyes that held him transfixed, though. They stalked him, taking in the scene like a wolf stalking its prey.

  ‘Are you okay?’ The voice was slight, barely audible, a faint accent it.

  Seb nodded, words beyond him.

  ‘We need to go, there will be others.’ The man glanced at the bandages covering Seb’s stomach, at the ever growing patch of claret.

  ‘I can’t move, it’s too much. The pain. I just can’t.’ He slumped back, dejected.

  ‘Lay back. This won’t take a moment.’

  Before Seb could even react, the man took his blade and sliced up the bandage, cutting cleanly, the material falling to one side. A gauze covered the stitched wound. The man sheathed the dagger somewhere inside his tunic and took off his gloves. He took a small pouch from inside his sleeve and emptied the contents - a thick, black paste - into the palm of one hand. He clasped his hands together, rubbing them vigorously, the paste turning his skin a dull brown colour. He raised his hands up, palms facing downwards.