Austerley & Kirgordon Adventures Box Set

by G R Jordan

  “Only for a word, darling. If you mean to ravage me, you’ll have to fight a duel. But I warn you, this stallion won last time.”

  It felt like being in a really poor B-movie. The dialogue tripped off her tongue with the alacrity of a gazelle, but her sincerity cut him cold to the core as he realized she wasn’t joking. What on earth was Indy’s past life like? pondered Kirkgordon. Part of his brain held up a large placard saying: We don’t want to know! A leg whipped across his lap and that heaving cleavage brought him abruptly back to his purpose.

  “The man across from us, Calandra. Tell me, do you know him? Has he been in here before?”

  The voluptuous temptress glanced quickly before running a hand around the back of Kirkgordon’s neck. She drew close to him, gently breathing into his ear, and whispered a quiet “No, and no.” Her breath and the touch of her hand were both as icy as Kirkgordon had ever felt. Calandra broke off and scanned the man sat across. She began to turn back to Kirkgordon but then sharply checked her eyes back on to the man. When she looked again at Kirkgordon her eyes were vacant for her mind was elsewhere, wandering through time and space searching for what she had just seen. After a minute she seemed to arrive at a place and she smiled lusciously, even licking her lips just a touch.

  “Well, well. I know those eyes. Not the face, never seen the face, but those eyes. I remember the music. He was such a player. The rise and fall of the bow, the exhilaration in your soul, the places he touched. Oh, and when he played the other music… I see it all again in his eyes. Every last detail. Every note and grace note. Every tone that no one else could produce. It is Zahn. Stake me down, but it’s Zahn.” Her face was lost in wonder such as Kirkgordon had never seen. It was almost like she was experiencing a sexual high, so involved was her body in the memory.

  “Are you telling me that’s Zahn? He’s been dead for years. How is he here?”

  “No, darling. You young thing, you. Not Zahn himself. Zahn’s eyes. That is a descendant of Zahn.”

  Kirkgordon nearly asked if she was sure but the ecstasy across her face was confirmation enough. He thought long and hard, trying to piece the puzzle together. Why? Why is he here? Why do the FSB want to be in on this? Who is Farthington, really? And why does he need our help? Calandra’s cold touch on his cheek brought Kirkgordon back to his senses.

  “Darling, he’s leaving.”

  Oh hell, thought Kirkgordon. In all the drama of Calandra’s arrival he hadn’t noticed the passing of time. It was going down now and Zahn’s offspring was clearly in on it.

  “Calandra, it’s about to get messy. Myself and Indy here,” he pointed at Austerley, “are going to get up and leave and at least two men will try to stop us. They are both likely to be quite proficient in using their fists or some concealed weapons on their persons. I apologize if I break anything in preventing them from impeding us.”

  “Darling, they won’t stop you. Leave it to Calandra. After seven hundred years I know how to handle men.”

  Kirkgordon couldn’t stop himself asking.

  “Are you a vampire?”

  “You little child,” laughed Calandra aloud, “I am so much more!” A vision of black clothing and white flesh shrieked across the room. She unfolded wings with an enormous span, and Kirkgordon saw Farthington and the supposed FSB man fall back from their seats beneath the aged wonder.

  “She did that, but without the gown, when we…” Austerley’s brief reminiscence was curtailed by an all-too-familiar hand grabbing him by the collar and hauling him out of the restaurant. Struggling for breath, Austerley could hear the screams of two men meeting the darker side of his former lover. And then he heard one very pointed comment in his right ear.

  “Never, ever, tell me about your sex life with that woman!”

  Street Knowledge

  Zahn’s descendant was calmly walking down the alley adjacent to the restaurant. He had clearly not heard the shrieks from inside, or he had chosen to ignore them. The foreigner was a little over five foot six inches with thick black hair and a wiry figure which seemed to waddle as it strolled down the side street, hips rising and falling like he was on a catwalk. At least he’s not too big to handle, thought Kirkgordon, but then he dismissed that thought as he remembered Calandra’s attack on Farthington and the FSB man. Clearly this shadowy world he was operating in was not one to be trifled with or estimated in normal proportions.

  Austerley was recovering alongside. Part of him, mainly his body, was tired of this charging about and constant commotion. It was also regretting leaving his old lover for this rather different scenario. The other part of him, the part that had first found his lover and all the other weird and wonderful things in his life, was bursting to rise to the surface. Like a school kid at the sweet stall, his lips were salivating. Only the lack of breath stopped his body from fully embracing his wonderment.

  Kirkgordon, holding himself and Austerley against the shadows, watched closely as Zahn junior continued along the alley. Another few steps, he thought, and they could continue a little further while keeping far enough away to not attract attention. Kirkgordon blinked. The foreigner was gone. Kirkgordon scanned the surroundings, desperately hoping to see some sign of the man. Nothing. Austerley was dumbstruck and could offer no help. Dammit. There was no other option.

  Hauling Austerley to his feet, Kirkgordon swiftly, but with eyes systematically scanning the alley, raced down to the spot where the man had disappeared. On reaching it he probed the floor, searching for some sort of false pavement or covered hole. Then he raced to the walls at the side, seeking crevices. Nothing, just nothing. Blast it. There had to be some sort of passage into this street. Methodically, one brick at a time, he worked the wall, pushing and jabbing at the obstruction, but nothing gave. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Austerley just standing there, looking straight ahead, beyond where the foreigner had disappeared.

  “Indy, stop standing around, you lazy swine, and help me check these walls.” He had covered all of the wall now and was rechecking desperately. Nothing at all. Not even a hint of something giving way. And, dammit, look at him!

  “Austerley, come on.” But Austerley continued in his forward stare, totally motionless. He didn’t flinch until his heavy eyelids suddenly flicked up with a lightness that spoke of inspiration. Austerley walked forward calmly and slowly and then… vanished.

  Kirkgordon’s mind was racing. He realized the solution to the foreigner’s disappearance was now before him even though he didn’t understand it. He swore at Austerley for being so damn foolish as to just charge on ahead. But the survivalist part of him was registering awareness of the cries of people exiting a restaurant just around the corner. By the sounds of it, they hadn’t enjoyed their meal. Kirkgordon never liked the unknown, never relished going into a situation blind, and now he was not only about to do that but he was going to vanish into a place that moved around and was clearly not of this world. Bugger!

  Farthington came racing round the corner, blood pouring from beside his right ear. He paid no attention to the deep gouge that had been ripped into his skin, instead scanning the alley ahead of him. He stopped dead in his tracks, squinting into the alley, disbelieving what he saw. Or rather the lack of what he saw. Nothing had changed from his earlier scouting. From the far end of the alley he saw a man dressed in a heavy blue parka jacket walk towards him accompanied by a large Alsatian dog. The man eyed him suspiciously as he strolled by with the dog. Farthington didn’t mind the look that asked what he was doing here, but he noticed that the man never looked back up the alley. After grunting an under-the-breath rebuke at himself, Farthington exited the area. He knew the FSB man could not be far behind.

  Presently, an FSB man did come round that corner. Like Farthington, he scanned the alley, and wandered round a little before calling his backup to pick him up. A minute later he drove off in a service car. And the alley fell silent.

  But someone else was watching. After a minute’s silence she stepped out from
the shadows, her pale face undeterred by the cold of a Moscow night. Her heels clipped as she strode up the alley and the tight black leather outfit squeaked occasionally as her curvaceous figure eased along. She looked around, surveying the alley. Then she looked dead ahead and strode straight through the vanishing point.

  Kirkgordon’s senses were on edge and his comfort zone was last seen checking onto a fast jet going in the opposite direction. Focus man, dammit, focus. Where is Indy? Where’s the stupid clown gone now? Then it struck Kirkgordon: was he still in the same alley? The walls looked like a continuation, a perfect join, but they were not a match to the outlook he had had just a moment ago. The alley had previously had only another two hundred yards to run and yet now he could see another five hundred yards of alley. Also, the buildings were getting taller for the remainder of the alley whereas before they had been getting smaller. Without making a sound, he glided to the end of the alley and was confronted by a sign. Улица на пороге. So he was here. Right place, right time. But where was Austerley?

  He heard a faint noise. A door closing. Soundlessly, Kirkgordon rounded the corner to enter the street fully and was amazed to see how narrow and tall it was. Still in the same style as the area of Moscow they were in… or had been in. The street was getting steeper and some of the buildings seemed to overhang and nearly touch each other. Part of him was shaking now, down in his core, and he struggled to control it. He listened carefully. Further up on the left. That noise again. A door closing for the second time. Kirkgordon sprinted up the street, defying the slope.

  Racing up the hill, Kirkgordon was aware of the end of this street approaching. There was a wall that loomed over, looking down the street. As he got closer to this goal he slowed his pace, looking for the elusive door he had twice heard closing. Where was it? His mind focused on trying to remember the direction, the level of the noise, had it echoed? No. There was nothing definitive that could guide him further. He would have to search each house one by one. Blast! Then he heard the shrieks.

  They were definitely shrieks, that is, more than one source. One was that of a frightened man, wild and unashamed, terror screaming from every pore. But there were also shrieks of wild things, beasts of some sort. Despite the echoing along the street, he was able to distinguish the sound as coming from the third house from the end on his left-hand side. He raced up to the front door only to find it locked. Without hesitating, Kirkgordon kicked viciously at the handle, knocking the knob off before smashing the flimsy lock apart with the sole of his foot. The shrieks continued, coming from higher floors. Vaulting two stairs at a time, Kirkgordon drove himself up at pace until he reached the top floor. Catching his breath momentarily, he surveyed the area and saw a door at the far end of the landing. The door was bulging like it was about to explode, and loud bangs and thumps could be heard from beyond it. The shrieks were definitely coming from inside.

  “Arghhhhhh! No! Of all that’s holy, noooooooo!”

  That was Austerley’s voice. Kirkgordon reacted by racing at the door and hitting it with all the might of his right shoulder. The door was taken clean off its hinges and continued, along with Kirkgordon, until they both hit the opposite wall. Pain racked his shoulder as he crumpled to the ground but, as he rolled briefly on the floor, his scan of the room was already assimilating everything. A creature stood in the middle of the room, holding in one hand some sheet music and in the other, Austerley, by the throat. The horror of a creature’s face having no eyes or mouth makes quite an impact on your mind. Two small horns adorned a head that seemed almost human, but minus the redeeming facial features. Its skin was like beaten black leather and its ears were pointed. It had two large wings folded across its back and four fingers with cruel barbed nails that held Austerley tight. A tail with a sharp-looking point was waving out behind the beast and it stood on two feet, each with four sharp talons. A surge of dread welled up inside Kirkgordon; he knew of only one way to deal with it.

  The creature was so caught up in its prize that it ignored Kirkgordon until he broke an occasional table off its back. The force of the blow caused it to drop Austerley, who fell like a sack of potatoes to the floor, and the creature turned on Kirkgordon, extending its talon-tipped wings and moving into a semi-crouch. The crouch lasted all of a second. The creature sprung at Kirkgordon, who flung himself backward but failed to evade the flailing talons. His sides screamed as the points drove deep into his skin; he grunted, trying to suppress the surprise and panic inside. Years of training drove him back to his feet and forced his mind to think, and think fast.

  Austerley was breathing but Kirkgordon doubted his awareness of the situation given that he was barely moving on the floor. The creature started to crouch again, still holding the sheet music in its hand, but then another figure in the distant corner of the room caught Kirkgordon’s eye. In that glance, he recognized the foreigner, cowering. Further details would have to wait as the creature pounced. This time Kirkgordon was ready and had grabbed a broken piece of table off the floor. As the creature dropped down onto him, he drove this makeshift stake up at its throat, allowing the creature’s considerable weight to force the impalement. With one hand extended and the target met, Kirkgordon had turned his back to the creature, a mistake punished by a ripping from its talons. It did not die immediately and continued to thrash at Kirkgordon’s rear, causing him multiple extra lacerations. Eventually, the creature succumbed and Kirkgordon was able to half roll, half slither out from under the carcass. His torso was on fire from the pain but his training enabled him to pick himself up and assess the situation.

  Austerley was prone on the floor and some blood could be seen seeping from his neck. Weakness was starting to overcome Kirkgordon’s body and he was worried he would be unable to carry his partner from the building. The foreigner was still tucked up tight in the corner, shaking. The music manuscript was lying on the floor beside the creature’s corpse, and Kirkgordon grabbed it, stuffing it inside his top. His head was starting to spin when he heard the voice.

  “You… you ha… you have to destroy it. Now. Burn it, don’t rip it up, just burn it… they need it… they won’t stop… not ’til they have it.” It was the foreigner. His voice was cracking, the fear in his eyes blazed for all to see, and yet Kirkgordon sensed an earnestness grounded in some sort of rationale.

  “Why? Who wants it? What does it do?” Kirkgordon’s eyes were starting to blur and he felt unsteady on his feet. The blood loss from his wounds was beginning to tell.

  “The music will call him. My forefather was meant to do it but he was interrupted. So they killed him. And now I have the hands to play. They came in my dreams. Haunted me. Led me to this place. But I had the truth of it. He left letters to the family. So I came to destroy it. It must not be used. Burn it! Now, I implore you. For the sake of all humanity, burn it!”

  He was half weeping, half shouting these instructions. Despite this noise, Kirkgordon could hear a faint beating in the background. Faint, but slowly increasing. A beating… no, a flapping, like wings. But not one wing. Many. Oh, hell!

  They burst through the windows, the glass exploding into the room, causing shards to rip across Kirkgordon’s face and body. If he had turned his back to avoid them he would have been unable to block the talons trying to rip out his throat. Instead, he managed to get a shielding arm up and was merely knocked off his feet into the wall. He tried to react as his training dictated but failed, only managing to raise his head so that he could see his enemy. The picture he saw invoked a terror which tore into his soul.

  At least ten creatures similar to the one he had killed were now in the room. One was searching for something, ripping the clothes off Zahn’s descendant in a wild search. This took a matter of seconds before the creature picked the foreigner up and tossed him out of the window. Kirkgordon assumed the man was already dead as he heard no scream on the descent, just a sickening thud as the fall was broken by the street below.

  The other creatures were securing th
e room, one standing over Austerley and several coming to encircle Kirkgordon. The searcher now turned his attention to Austerley and quickly rifled through his victim’s garb in a clumsy fashion. Watching, Kirkgordon tried to rise up to defend his partner but all his strength was gone. As the search would prove fruitless, he feared the worst for Indy but was mentally poleaxed when one of the other creatures picked up Austerley and flew out of the room with him. If he had had any energy left, Kirkgordon would have panicked as the searcher now turned to him. Instead, a sense of finality and dread overcame him and he prepared for the end. He felt the first rough searchings of the creature but then something quite unexpected happened.

  A black shadow erupted into the room. Visually it was difficult to comprehend as there was so little contrast between it and the creatures. What Kirkgordon’s brain could discern was the thudding of creature parts hitting the floor, the howls of pain and panic from these beasts and something else so sublime that his deteriorated senses nearly missed it. It was the smell of someone perspiring. Female, he thought, someone he recognized. As the last moments of consciousness were about to leave him, he thought to himself: Who is she? What is she? And thank you God, she’s here!

  Chilled Flesh

  Sunlight glimmered off the slightly rippling surface of the water, providing a backdrop of sublime beauty eclipsed only by the young family rolling around in friendly play on the nearest bank. A small toddler was lifting his top up and exposing his bare belly, causing ruptures of laughter from the baby lying on its back. The nineteen-seventies hairstyle, long and draped over the ears, so like the rock stars of that age, gave a cuteness to the toddler surpassed only by his beaming smile. The baby girl was delicate and yet also so secure, lying before her doting mother. The mother lifted her head and Kirkgordon stared into a memory all too distant.