London Underground: An Unofficial Legend of The Secret World (Unofficial Legends of The Secret World Book 2)

by Blodwedd Mallory

  Bile rose up in my throat. This was different than killing familiars back at Innsmouth Academy, which, while they had a body, had never been truly alive. Well, at least not in their incarnation as familiars. These people had families, jobs, children, siblings, and parents that loved them. I stood in stunned silence at the scene. Dream or not, this felt real.

  Mei wiped the sweat off her forehead with her arm, gauging my reaction. “We’re gonna need to use some heavier powers,” she cautioned me, then turned to the group. “Don’t hold back, all right?”

  Alex ran a hand through his hair. “I was pacing myself.”

  She shook her head at him. In the distance, we heard raw hissing screams coming from deep within the subway tunnels, echoing on the tiles of the platform. Alex and Mei looked at each other in alarm.

  “Listen, Sarah,” Rose said urgently, grabbing me on the shoulder, as Alex and Mei faced the direction the sound was coming from. “You have to find Zuberi. We'll hold them here. Make a stand.”

  My heart skipped a beat and fear welled up within me. I didn’t know anything about this place, where to go or how to even survive, and Rose was asking me to leave the group? Moreover, I didn’t know who Zuberi was or what he even looked like. The screams within the tunnel were getting closer, and the noise tore at my ears.

  I looked once again across the platform at the maimed bodies that had been twisted and torn by the Filth and realized there was no choice. If I stayed here and we were all overwhelmed, it would be over. If I moved forward, just maybe I could find Zuberi and locate a way out for us.

  Pumping my shotgun, I looked gravely at Rose and nodded. Stepping around the bodies, I hurried across the length of the passenger platform away from growls and screams of the incoming attackers. I made my way up to the far end and looked over to where the tracks lay.

  Across the tracks, a chain-link fence with a gate closed off the other side of the platform. If I could just get through that gate, there might be a way up and out of here for us all. Maybe their friend Zuberi was somewhere in that area. I hoped he wouldn’t think I was infected and shoot me when I found him.

  I jumped down onto the tracks as Alex, Mei, and Rose began to fight the next wave of Filth-infected and ran over to the chain-link fence. I started to fiddle with the lock on the chain when suddenly a massive Filth-infected hulk—it looked like a bodybuilder on steroids only pitch black, its eyes glowing red in the dim light—charged the gate from the other side, bursting through. I jumped back and ran to the bottom of the platform from where I’d come, as far out of its reach as I could get, before opening fire with my shotgun.

  It roared and ran toward me, pounding the ground with an enormous swipe. Filth flew up from the tracks where its gigantic fists landed. I scrambled back and fired again, aiming for its chest. It was a big target, and I was at uncomfortably close range. I hit it full on, but it didn’t drop. Instead, it swung a fist at me, clipping my left arm.

  My mouth dropped open in shock at the intensity of the pain that burned up my arm, turning it numb, as I cried out in pain and shock.

  Run! My brain screamed at me as the hulk lunged forward again.

  I turned in terror and ran full out back across the tracks, tossing my shotgun up on the platform I’d come from. I scrambled up, pushing with all my might against the tile ledge with both hands and kicking my left leg up to gain purchase. I grabbed the shotgun and turned around to face the filthy hulk once again. It roared in frustration and jumped straight up to pound the ground. Dirt and Filth splashed up like an evil wave.

  My left arm still ached from the force of its indirect blow. Needles of pain tingled in my hand as the feeling returned to my limb. I shook it out. I couldn’t afford to let this thing get close to me at all. A direct hit from it would be disastrous.

  Putting the shotgun to my shoulder, I aimed carefully, and the gun barked, hitting the monster with a raging shot in the chest. The impact of the shell knocked the hulk back slightly, a fountain of black goo splashing from the wound. It roared in anger and stalked toward me across the tracks.

  Not good. That was a massive, direct shot, and it hadn’t really hurt it at all. Definitely not good. I pumped the shotgun and the chamber clicked dry.

  Really not good. I panicked. I had no idea how to reload this thing!

  Fumbling in the pockets of Sarah’s jacket, I found more shells, but I still didn’t know how to load the gun. I looked up. The filthy hulk had turned and was headed toward the end of the platform about 10 feet away to a pile of wreckage. As I stared at the monster in disbelief, it began to climb up the rubble to reach me. It was still coming!

  I looked down at the shotgun, panting in fear.

  Come on, come on! Think, Wedd. How do you load this thing?

  On the body of the shotgun I spied something that looked like a place to put in a shell—there was a knob on the right side with a slide that opened to expose a chamber. I looked at the cartridge in my right hand. It was a kind of orangeish-red plastic on one end and metal on the other end. Brass, my brain supplied. Putting shells in the wrong way was probably bad.

  Oh shit. What was the right direction? What if I put them in the wrong way? Was it possible to die in a dream? What if this wasn’t a dream?

  Crossing my mental fingers that I was loading them correctly, I inserted five shells with the brass ends toward the grip of the shotgun, then pulled the slide closed.

  The filthy hulk monster jumped up onto the platform just as I slid it shut, and I pumped the shotgun. Yes! That seemed to work, but now the hulk was less than five feet from me. It was too close for me to avoid another blow from its fists while I aimed. I jumped down on the tracks and backed away trying to create some distance again. The hulk roared with anger, and to my right, I could hear the Filth-infected people scream in response from the other end of the platform. My heart beat wildly in a primal reaction to the noise. I hoped Mei, Rose, and Alex were all right.

  I pulled the shotgun up to my shoulder, aimed at the filthy hulk, and fired over and over at its chest until there was a gaping cavity there, oozing black filth. It toppled dead to the floor of the platform, dissolving into a puddle of sludge.

  Relief filled my body, and I bent over at the waist, panting, to recover.

  Once I’d caught my breath, I counted the empty shells on the ground in front of me. I’d used every shot. I reached in my pocket and paused to reload a second time. My hands shook as I loaded five new shells into the slot.

  Glancing back over my shoulder, I tried to see how Alex, Rose, and Mei were faring, but I couldn’t see them through the swarm of tentacled, Filth-encrusted bodies covering the platform.

  I needed to get help! I picked my way back across the tracks and moved through the broken gate of the chain-link fence to assess my path forward. Access to the platform on the other side was completely cut off by the train car pulled up on the tracks. I looked into the black of the subway tunnel. That wasn’t an option. There was no telling what horrors were hidden in the darkness there.

  Looking at the train cars visible from the lights of the platform, I saw a pile of rubble that just about reached the sliding doors on one of the cars. The entrance to the car was standing open, so I ran down the tracks, scrambled up the wreckage and pulled myself into the subway car.

  At the front of the car, a dark-skinned man with round spectacles, long gray dreadlocks, and a tan leather jacket crouched to the left of a wounded man—a soldier?—leaning up against the front of the compartment. The soldier was wearing a black-and-white uniform with a stylized “O” on the chest and was slumped over in pain.

  The black man stood up from where he was crouched and looked at me.

  “Ah, the cavalry has arrived.”

  I awoke on the cobblestones of the square to a young black woman shaking my shoulder. I jumped with a start and scooted back on my heels against the wall. She crouched beside me, dressed in a green army jacket with dog tags around her neck, but she looked friendly, once I calmed do
wn enough to take her in.

  “You look like you’ve just seen the end of the cosmos, mate,” she said.

  That was an understatement! My brow furrowed. I didn’t know what had just happened. Had I actually been in Tokyo or was I just dreaming? I shook my head in confusion. Why did I keep ending up there? What was that Filth stuff?

  The young woman offered me a hand and yanked me to my feet. “I know the feeling. We’re on the edge of it, and it’s time to play your part, seen?”

  My mouth opened and closed as I struggled for the words to answer her. I found I didn’t have any, so I shrugged.

  She nodded sagely, then smiled at me. “Me and you, we’re blood now, yeah? Templars for the win and that.”

  I stared at her like a deer in the headlights as thoughts continued to swirl around in my head about what I’d witnessed. Nausea pooled in my stomach. I felt a deep uneasiness and a burgeoning conviction that I hadn’t actually been dreaming, that that the events I had witnessed were happening in Tokyo right now.

  Gaia help us if they were.

  “Never mind. Looks like you’ve got some training to do before you’re ready for your first kill.”

  Memories of killing the Filth-infected and the hulk flashed in my brain, and I blinked at her in confusion.

  She put her hands on her hips and looked at me sternly. “Look, when you get your wits about you, you’ll want to do what your letter says. Go speak with Sonnac at the Templars gaff. Not far. Can’t miss it. Honest. It’s unmissable.”

  Richard Sonnac! That’s right. I was headed to Temple Hall. My heart raced with excitement, and I rubbed my hands. I was on my way to Temple Hall.

  She shook her head at me with exasperation and walked away before I could get her name. Belatedly, I realized I hadn’t ever even responded to her with words. I called out my thanks, but she didn’t turn around.

  I watched her go with a sigh. A missed opportunity there. She knew about my letter, she looked about my age, and she was a Templar, too. It would be good to have someone of whom to ask questions. I promised myself that I’d try to find her later when I wasn’t so discombobulated from the Tokyo experience.

  I spied a coffee shop on the corner called Moca Loco and swung inside, giving a short prayer of thanks to Ms. Usher and the £20 she’d given me when I left Innsmouth Academy. I desperately needed a shot of caffeine to finish clearing my head. I ordered the shop’s namesake drink and stepped back out on the street, cup in hand. I continued north half a block, before turning left on Ealdwic Square, which eventually turned into the start of Redcrosse Circus. I wasn’t far now from my destination, but I could also see armed guards in front of Bartleby & Daughters bank on the left. Although I wanted to take the young Templar’s advice and head straight for Temple Hall, I figured I better swing into the bank before it closed and get some money exchanged.

  After speaking with the teller and exchanging my currency, I headed back out to the curving street, walking past a large clothing store called Pangea and some sort of government building on the right. A variety of tall, narrow old buildings stacked in a neat curve formed the circus on the left. They appeared to be under construction and scaffolding covered several of them. One even had a double-decker bus parked out front. In the distance, I could still hear police sirens and noted that the day was cooler from the earlier storm.

  Suddenly it was real. I was in London, and I was finally headed to Temple Hall. I felt a thrill of pride that I’d made it here myself, despite that crabby Sevenoir who left me at the Agartha portal without a clue. As I rounded the curve, Temple Hall stood before me, with an arched gateway enclosing the front of the Temple courtyard.

  The sun split through the fluffy gray clouds in the sky above the rotunda of the white stone hall like an omen. The building itself looked like a fortress, emphasized by the neatly uniformed guards standing at the arched gateway. Cordons had been erected blocking vehicular access to the Temple Court. The guards were talking to a couple of police officers. Beyond the gateway, I could see the front of the hall adorned with long red banners bearing white shields with red crosses hanging to either side of the entrance. A large public fountain shimmered in the foreground. I looked around for a rubbish bin and found one near a guard on the left side of the arched gateway.

  “State your business,” he challenged me.

  “I’m here to see Richard Sonnac,” I answered.

  “Ah, new blood I see. I suppose you look like the best of the new batch,” the guard said, eyeing my outfit. I looked down at my wrinkled blouse doubtfully. “Right then. Show us your letter.”

  I reached in my backpack and pulled out the vellum envelope, stamped in red wax with the Templar seal. I closed the bag hastily as I realized my picture of Richard Sonnac was visible in the opening.

  The guard gave me a nod and a wry smile, then stood back to let me pass. I walked through the gates and goggled at the sheer size of Temple Court. Ornate stone buildings stood on either side of the road. A fountain splashed and roared in the center of a cross-shaped pond. I walked along the walkway to the right of the pond toward the main entrance. Two more guards stood to either side, wearing red pants, black boots, and ornately trimmed uniform jackets in red, black, and white.

  I stepped through the inner doors into a large foyer. Before me, up another three steps, were three open stone doorways, the largest in the middle, with two smaller to either side. Two more guards, a man and a woman, stood at attention there, next to tall cauldrons burning with flames. Beyond them, I could see a large open courtroom, with a Templar cross embedded in the floor. The floor of the foyer I stood in was made of tightly seamed slabs of white marble, and there were tall red wooden doors to the left and right sides. Thankfully, the door on the right stood open.

  I turned and walked toward it and into what appeared to be an office, the floor covered by a red carpet with a gilded four-armed cross. The Templars certainly did not want anyone to miss the theme around here.

  A small ornate fireplace sat on the far wall with an enormous painting of Saint George slaying the dragon above it. Similarly large oil paintings adorned the other walls I could see. The scale of the room was ridiculous for a single office, but tall floor lamps stood along the walls, adding a warmth to the light of the place, which primarily came from a crystal chandelier hanging down from the 20-foot ceiling. There were chairs and end tables, and even a wooden globe, filling the space.

  My eyes were drawn to the desk, finely made, but small in comparison to the room, which sat along the west wall. A handsome black man, with closely cropped hair, in a tailored brown pinstripe suit sat at the desk reviewing some paperwork. My heart skipped a beat. At last, here was Richard Sonnac.

  He looked up and spied me standing there. “Come in. Come in.”

  I approached his desk.

  “I’m very pleased you can follow directions on the back of a card. It is the basis for us getting along famously,” as he said with a dry smile. I was thrilled by his lovely English accent and grinned like an idiot.

  He stood up and walked toward me, gesturing at the room. “Of course, with an establishment like this, we’re practically in the Yellow Pages under ‘Crusaders.’”

  He reached out and shook my hand. “Richard Sonnac.”

  “Wedd…uh, Blodwedd Mallory,” I responded, stumbling over my name and cursing myself for my nerves. Were my hands cold and clammy? Oh, Gaia, I hoped my hands weren’t cold and clammy.

  “So,” he continued. “You heeded our call to arms.”

  “Yes, sir.” Annoyance filled me at my shaking voice. I had waited so long for this that I was incredibly nervous.

  “And what do you want?” He looked at me expectantly.

  What did I want? What did he mean, what did I want? I gave him the only answer I had.

  “I’d like to become a Templar, sir.”

  A smile spread across his face, and he nodded. “Very good. It’s critical that the candidate asks. It’s a requirement of your initiation
. Only the first test, but you’ve passed with flying colors.”

  He spread his arms wide. “This organization will require much of you, I’m afraid. It’s important that you understand what you’re getting into. You have questions. I can furnish you with answers. Some answers.”

  Sonnac pursed his lips and looked at me. “To begin with, you haven’t strayed into some atrocious Dan Brown airport paperback. We are not the ‘Knights Templar.’ That particular appellation went out in the 1300s, along with pageboy haircuts and burnings at the stake.”

  He turned away from me and paced a bit around the room as I ran my hands surreptitiously down my skirt to dry them. “No, we run a 21st century—well, let’s say a ‘forward-facing’ organization, but one with its strength in the ancient bonds of tradition. In loyalty. In blood. And, to be perfectly frank, in a sizable private army.”

  Sonnac turned back toward me, gesturing as if to demand my understanding. “Our firm guidance is needed to save the world from itself. We are at war. Might will make right, and it will fall upon us to judge the correct application of might. It falls upon you as a soldier of the Templars. Show me that you have the will, and we can teach you the way.”

  I felt a fierce pride fill me at his words. I definitely had the will!

  “Your invitation to join us is for two key reasons. First, your family has a history of serving us. That in itself makes you a candidate worthy of consideration.” Sonnac continued, moving back to his desk. “But more importantly, you, like some others you will meet here at Temple Hall, were chosen by Gaia. That has given you remarkable powers. Powers that need to be honed and controlled.”

  Looking down at a paper on his desk, he quirked an eyebrow, and then looked back at me, adding, “At least, to a less disastrous effect on property values.”

  My face went red. I hadn’t ruined anything at Innsmouth Academy permanently that I was aware of. Although it did take a lot of wax to get the scorch marks and cracks out of the wooden floor of the Media Room.