Fire City

by Bali Rai

  ‘Where does the energy come from?’ asked Mace.

  Jonah shook his head and lied again. ‘No idea,’ he said. ‘Whatever it is, the power has faded but it’s still worth carrying. Coupled with your other weapons, it will help.’

  ‘Are we guaranteed to meet enemies on the road?’ Mace added.

  ‘Yes,’ Jonah replied as he wondered whether he could energize a spear that wasn’t connected to him. They would find out soon enough.

  ‘When Aron said that you’re not normal, he wasn’t lying, was he?’ said Mace.

  Jonah eyed the giant and nodded. ‘There’s plenty to tell,’ he admitted, ‘but not now. We need to get moving.’

  ‘Tell me something,’ Mace insisted. ‘One thing.’

  Jonah looked away, his thoughts blurred into one, his heart racing. He’d known that their trip into the wastelands would lead to this moment, and partly he’d welcomed it. Mace was an elder, and wiser than many of the other humans. He would see much on this trip that would be hard for Jonah to explain. Perhaps the best course of action was telling the truth? Yet to do that Jonah would have to do something he’d never fully done with anyone, not since his family had been torn apart. He’d have to trust Mace completely.

  ‘Things aren’t always black and white,’ Jonah said cryptically as he searched for the right words.

  ‘I guess not,’ Mace told him in reply. ‘All I ever see is grey. Your answer doesn’t tell me much though.’

  ‘Sometimes things happen, and consequences occur, and there is no helping the outcome.’

  Mace asked Jonah to face him. The younger man turned, his eyes still downcast and half closed.

  ‘Jonah . . .?’

  ‘You must try to understand,’ Jonah whispered. ‘You have to understand. I didn’t have any control over what happened.’

  ‘Understand what?’ demanded Mace. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Jonah opened his eyes and looked up. Mace gasped. He stumbled backwards, holding the spear between himself and Jonah.

  ‘My mother wasn’t human,’ Jonah declared, orange and red flames dancing around his irises. ‘She was a demon.’

  29

  THE MAYOR DEMANDED to know what Stone was up to.

  ‘You think you can belittle me?’ he yelled, his face almost purple with rage and rivulets of sweat running down his jowls.

  Stone held up a hand, attempting to pacify his boss before he had a coronary. ‘I was helping you out,’ he insisted. ‘Valefor was after blood.’

  ‘Valefor is no concern of yours!’ the Mayor spat. ‘You seem to have forgotten your position.’

  Stone was glad of the privacy that his apartment afforded. The thought of being chastised in public was too much. Stone doubted that he’d have been able to control his actions in full view.

  ‘I know my position,’ he countered. ‘It’s to protect you. Suppose I’d stood there and let Valefor humiliate you further? In front of my men . . .’

  ‘So you humiliated me instead?’

  Stone fingered the paperweight on his desk, a smooth glass block, hard and heavy. In another world, he took the weight and smashed the Mayor’s head in until all that remained was a mess of pulped brain, blood and fragments of bone. Back in this one, he smiled.

  ‘Don’t be so paranoid. All I did was offer to solve Valefor’s problem, and by extension yours too.’

  The Mayor, who’d been standing by the windows, walked across the room, sitting down in a threadbare armchair. He faced Stone. ‘Tell me about your plan,’ he said. ‘You know – the one you forgot to mention.’

  Stone sighed. ‘I didn’t really forget,’ he explained. ‘That’s just what I told Valefor – not that it matters. When he’s that close to any human, he can read everything they think and feel.’

  ‘That’s even better,’ the Mayor replied with sarcasm. ‘He knows you lied to him.’

  Stone wondered how much more stupid the Mayor could be. ‘Of course he knows, sir,’ he replied, trying to hide his exasperation. ‘And he doesn’t care. All he wants is this stranger . . .’

  ‘The stranger that I told you to find,’ the Mayor reminded him.

  Stone nodded.

  ‘And the plan?’

  ‘You won’t like it,’ Stone warned. ‘It involves your stepdaughter.’

  ‘Martha?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  The Mayor shook his head. ‘I don’t understand, Stone,’ he admitted. ‘Explain.’

  ‘She’s a member of the Resistance and she knows the stranger. And before you begin to doubt my words, listen. This isn’t second-hand information, sir. I saw the evidence for myself. I saw her.’

  The Mayor considered what he’d been told for a while. Stone got up and poured them both a drink. The Mayor took his glass and drank half of the amber-coloured liquid quickly. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked, his voice quieter, his tone less arrogant.

  ‘Completely sure,’ Stone insisted. ‘You may think I’ve done nothing for the last few days but that’s not true. I’m one conversation away from finding their HQ.’

  The Mayor finished his drink, stood and walked back to the windows, looking down to the street below. At nearly two a.m. a few people still walked the streets, mostly drunken men and the odd homeless scavenger. Across the far side of the city, east of his mansion, he knew that the Hunt would normally be in full swing.

  He’d heard about the Resistance and how some of the prey had been rescued, and had long wondered what happened to the liberated. It made sense that they had some secret location, a hideaway to which they could take people. Valefor’s powers, as Stone had said during their meeting with the demons, extended to the edges of the protected zone, and no further. That covered only several square kilometres, and beyond lay the outskirts of the city and the wastelands. It was very probable that the Resistance secreted the saved outside the protected zone.

  It was also more than likely that his stepdaughter was involved. Physically and emotionally, she was the same as her mother, and the Mayor had tried for years to make her see sense. But Martha was headstrong and arrogant and she hated him, despite everything he’d done for her. The death of her mother was self-induced; no one had forced the woman to become a traitor. The Mayor had tried his best to help. Blinded by a foolish love, he’d gone cap in hand to his superiors, begged Valefor to intercede, all for nothing. And now Martha was following in her mother’s footsteps. It would be a shame to lose her; in the correct situation, with the right amount of moulding, she would have made a fine substitute in his affections. However, it was not to be, and there were plenty of other girls desperate to rise above their sorry lives.

  He turned to Stone and shrugged, relieved that giving up on her was a choice that had been taken out of his hands. ‘Is she downstairs?’ he asked.

  ‘Martha?’

  The Mayor nodded.

  ‘No. Her shift finished at midnight. Who knows where she is?’

  ‘She’s not in her room here?’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ Stone admitted. ‘You want me to check?’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ the Mayor told him. ‘Leave her to me.’

  ‘You’re the chief,’ replied Stone. ‘Do you want me to give her a pass when the time comes?’

  The Mayor shook his head. ‘No point,’ he explained. ‘If we protect her, Valefor will kill us. No, when the time comes, you must kill her. But make sure it’s quick. Despite everything, Stone, I’m not an animal. I loved that girl and her mother once, and no matter what, I don’t want her to suffer.’

  Outwardly Stone agreed, but inside he felt another wave of revulsion for the Mayor. Stone had no family, none that he was aware of anyway, and was a mercenary with the blood of hundreds on his conscience, yet even he was appalled at the Mayor’s appetite for self-preservation. The stories about the Mayor’s former wife, Maria, were rife in Fire City. Stone pondered the worth of a world in which spineless slugs like the Mayor prospered, and valiant women – even misguided ones such as Maria – were
killed.

  ‘Who is your mole, Stone?’ the Mayor enquired.

  ‘Aron – one of the boys Martha is friends with,’ Stone admitted. There was no mileage in hiding the truth. ‘I’ve already spoken to him and I’ll find him tomorrow, set things up.’

  ‘I know who the boy is,’ said the Mayor. ‘But why tomorrow? Why not right now?’

  Stone gave the Mayor a hard look, making him flinch. ‘Because I’m tired and I’m going to sleep,’ he snapped. ‘I’ll deal with it tomorrow.’

  The Mayor asked who’d be driving him home.

  ‘Ask one of my men,’ Stone told him. ‘They’re downstairs.’

  Stone waited for the Mayor to leave before taking out his mobile phone. His handler answered on the second ring, despite the hour.

  ‘I’ve been waiting up for you,’ he told Stone.

  ‘I thought you might,’ replied Stone. ‘I’ve had another idea.’

  Across the city, Valefor stood on the roof of a deserted apartment block and looked over his domain, Mias at his side. With the Hunt cancelled, Mias had set the patrollers a new task, searching door to door for the stranger and rounding up anyone who got in their way.

  ‘Any sign of the Resistance?’ asked Valefor.

  ‘No, my lord.’

  ‘And no news of the stranger?’

  ‘No,’ admitted Mias. ‘My legion searches for him but no word as yet.’

  ‘I cannot sense his presence either,’ Valefor revealed. ‘Perhaps your rampage taught them a lesson?’

  Mias smiled. ‘I’ve always said that these animals need a firm hand,’ he gloated. ‘We are too soft on them.’

  ‘Perhaps that is true,’ replied Valefor.

  ‘Do you trust the human soldier to find them?’ asked Mias.

  ‘Stone?’ said the demon lord. ‘I think he will do his job.’

  ‘And then . . .?’

  Valefor’s wings flapped behind him, his jaw muscles flexed. ‘Once we have what we need, you may dispose of him. The Mayor too.’

  ‘But what of the council, my lord?’

  Valefor shook his giant head, his eyes on fire. ‘I care not what they say,’ he confessed. ‘I am an ancient and my will shall be done. If the council wish to inform Asmodeus of my actions, so be it. I was feasting on souls with the Great Lord before most of the council existed. We are kin, the Great Lord and I.’

  Mention of Asmodeus, the most powerful of all demons, caused Mias to drop to one knee and bow his head. Rarely seen or heard from, the Great Lord was ruler of everything on Earth. Through his majesty had the reign of the demons been re-established, returning them to their rightful place at the top of the food chain.

  ‘I shall follow your lead, brother Valefor.’

  ‘And for that, you shall have great reward,’ Valefor replied.

  ‘Do you wish to feed?’ asked Mias, rising to his feet.

  ‘Yes,’ Valefor told him. ‘This stranger is powerful. I shall build up my strength for our meeting. I shall tear the meat from his bones and torture his soul until it screams. Until then, have your patrollers bring me some sustenance.’

  ‘At once, sire,’ said Mias. ‘Should I resume my search?’

  ‘Not tonight,’ Valefor replied. ‘They are not here. Tomorrow, go into the city and question the people. You have my permission to use whatever force you require. If anyone stands in your way, brother, kill them.’

  ‘So we do not wait for Stone to deliver?’

  Valefor looked into Mias’ scarlet eyes. ‘I grow tired of waiting,’ he replied.

  30

  IN THE HALF-HOUR since Jonah’s revelation, Mace had spoken only once. The word he’d uttered, as his mind performed cartwheels and his heart almost entered his throat, was ‘shit’. Since then, he’d followed Jonah’s lead as they moved quickly through the night, along deserted streets and out into what had once been called the countryside. He wanted to ask questions but couldn’t think of the correct ones. What were you supposed to ask? The usual stuff just didn’t seem to apply. It was only as they entered another village – roads filled with derelict houses – that Mace finally gave up and let his mouth take over.

  ‘It’s not possible,’ he blurted as Jonah held up a hand, the signal for Mace to stop.

  ‘Movement,’ Jonah warned, ignoring Mace’s remark. ‘Up ahead, to the left.’

  Mace failed to see anything. Despite having grown used to the darkness, his eyes weren’t that attuned. Heavy cloud obscured the stars, and the moon was absent.

  ‘Is that one of your demon powers?’ he asked, hoping to sound jovial rather than inquisitive, and failing.

  ‘Yes,’ Jonah replied, without elaborating further.

  ‘What can you see?’

  Jonah approached a car and crouched, beckoning to Mace to do the same. He peered into the night, looking beyond the thirty metres that Mace’s human eyes could just about decipher. Possible shapes in Mace’s vision became heat signatures to Jonah’s eyes. There were several of them, all human judging by their scent.

  ‘Humans,’ Jonah eventually revealed. ‘Keep quiet and follow my lead.’

  He waited a few seconds before scampering to the cover of a building, keeping low. Mace did the same moments later, with difficulty. Running whilst doubled over wasn’t something his giant frame managed easily.

  ‘Something’s happening,’ Jonah whispered. ‘One of the human forms is on the ground.’

  He moved again, forward by twenty metres this time, keeping to the shadows. Mace waited before following, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. The possible shapes were real now and he could hear them too – shrieking and snarling.

  ‘Cannibals,’ said Jonah.

  Suddenly the scene became clear to Mace. A group of flesh-eaters surrounded a vehicle in the middle of the street. They held clubs and used them to beat their victim, who lay motionless on the ground beside it.

  ‘We’ve got to help him!’ Mace insisted.

  Jonah didn’t wait to agree. He sprinted forward, drawing his blade, and into the mêlée. Mace, despite having seen him in action, was again amazed at his speed. It took only seconds for Jonah to despatch the flesh-eaters, gutting every single one of them. By the time Mace had joined him, the fight was over and Jonah was busy checking the pulse of their victim – a soldier, his face flecked with blood and gore, his eyes impossibly wide and black.

  ‘He’s dead.’

  Mace looked down at the corpse. The left side of the soldier’s face was a bloody mess, the skull split open, eye socket caved in and jaw bone smashed. He lay at an awkward angle, one of his legs hanging by a thread of skin beneath the knee. The other leg and both arms lay a few feet away, the flesh gnawed. The cannibals had obviously been at their attack for a while. The question that arose, once the horror of the incident evaporated, was why the victim had been there at all. Mace said as much.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Jonah admitted, ‘but it doesn’t look good.’

  ‘Did he get lost?’

  Jonah shook his head and pointed to the army-issue jeep. ‘Each vehicle has satellite navigation,’ he explained.

  ‘I haven’t seen one of those in years,’ replied Mace, recalling a small black box that he’d bought as a teenager. It had plugged into his car’s cigarette lighter, and never kept its signal. He’d stamped on it in the end as it tried to direct him down a one-way street, against the flow of traffic.

  ‘If the soldiers were searching the village, the whole unit have got to be close,’ Jonah added. ‘They wouldn’t have left someone behind though. He was probably bringing up the rear. But that also means they missed the cannibals, and I don’t understand how.’

  He turned to study the street, noting the redbrick semi-detached houses on both sides, each with a small front garden. A few cars still stood in the driveways, most beyond repair, and each building was silent and dark. He could smell something in the air, but the thick walls of each abode blocked his other senses.

  ‘What do we do?’ asked Mace.
r />   ‘Take the jeep,’ Jonah told him. ‘Make use of our luck.’

  Mace walked round to the driver’s side and saw keys dangling from the ignition. He leaned in, ready to start the engine.

  ‘Help!’ came a cry from the deserted houses.

  ‘That was a kid!’ Mace declared, turning round.

  ‘Don’t move!’ Jonah ordered, scanning the darkness once more.

  ‘Jonah – that was a little girl. We’ve got to help her!’

  From the right, a metal dustbin rattled and glass broke. A bare-footed figure about five feet tall ran into view. It was a female, maybe ten years old, with long dark hair and wearing an adult’s shirt. She ran to a hedge and hid behind it, whimpering.

  ‘Wait!’ Jonah demanded. ‘It smells like a trap!’

  Mace shook his head. ‘I don’t care!’ he roared. ‘I’m going to get her.’

  He ran towards the girl, his heart pumping overtime. There was no way he was watching her become someone else’s dinner. He’d seen too many humans end up as food for the flesh-eaters. He got to within less than a metre when the girl sprang at him, her mouth open and teeth sharp.

  ‘Shit!’

  She clamped her jaws round Mace’s left forearm and tore into it. The giant swung her away from his body, trying to ignore the pain, but the girl held on like a rabid dog with a side of beef, yet almost weightless. Her legs swung through the air, her arms flailing for some kind of purchase as though she were drowning.

  ‘Gerroff!’

  An ear-splitting cry pierced the night and more cannibals streamed from their cover. The bait had worked. Mace thought quickly, deciding to use the girl’s slight form as a weapon, despite how sick it made him feel. He threw out his arm, the girl still attached, and her legs deflected the first attacker. The cannibal, a tall, gangling male, fell to the ground, allowing Mace to stamp on his face, knocking him out cold. Two more males, both bigger and heavier, emerged, their eyes blazing.

  ‘Great!’ Mace groaned, cursing his luck. He was in trouble now. One attacker was easy, but if they both jumped at the same time . . .