Winter Rising: an Urban Fantasy Novel (Coldharbour Chronicles Book 1)

by Richard Amos

  Nice reflexes.

  It moved away by several feet.

  “You will not trick me like you did that fool,” the beast said.

  The dark blue energy fell away. There seemed to be no control from me over these bells and whistles. Again, I needed some answers, because at the moment, I felt just like a puppet.

  The creature paced back and forth. “I will destroy you and I will be rewarded. Master said I couldn’t, but where is she? She failed and now here I am.” It lowered its head, ready to charge. “All of you will—”

  A vial flew through the air and landed at the creature’s feet.

  “Have some of that,” Naomi said.

  “What is this—”

  The vial broke open, emitting a purple gas that quickly engulfed the hyena thing. Within seconds, it was laughing hysterically. It was the sound of a hyena and a murderous clown blended together to make one messed up giggle. The creature spun, a dog chasing its tail. Round and round it went. I couldn’t keep watching. As a kid, I always hated the funfair rides that spun.

  “Come,” Greg said to me. He charged forward. I ran beside him.

  Greg swung his hammer at the creature’s front legs, taking two out with an almighty crack. The thing shrieked but still couldn’t stop with the manic laughing. It clawed at the road, struggling, shrieking and laughing.

  “You fucked it up pretty good,” I said.

  “Your turn,” Greg said. “Mind the jaws.”

  Dean appeared beside it. “I’m on hand to break them if it gets tricky.”

  Deep breath. “I think I’ve got this.”

  The sparks on my hands were going crazy, desperate to do more of the work they’d performed all night. I stepped forward, reaching for its head. Yellow eyes met mine, panicked, but so full of laughter.

  I grabbed its head and was taken to the place of mist.

  Seconds later, the shards of gold were falling from my hands, the sparks fizzing out.

  The rain was coming down in buckets again. Freezing cold water splashed my cheeks and hands.

  “Done,” Naomi said.

  “What did you do to it?” I asked.

  “Basically, laughing gas. Thought it was appropriate, considering what it looked like.”

  “You carry that belt of vials everywhere you go?”

  “Not everywhere. Never to the pub.”

  “Makes sense, I guess.”

  “Let’s get back inside,” Greg said. “We seem to haven’t noticed it’s absolutely pissing it down.”

  “Oh, we noticed,” Naomi said. “My knickers are bloody soaked already.”

  ****

  Back inside the mansion, we all sat around the fire in the library. I was crashing now, really feeling the night’s intensity. A good curl up and plunge into darkness would be so sweet. But my brain was also screaming for more answers.

  “The rooms are ready,” Mr. Douglas said, striding into the room.

  Karla finished sipping her herbal tea and smiled. “Excellent. Not to sound like the bossy mother, but I wish you all to retire for the evening.”

  This big mansion of luxury was a place I didn’t want any part of it, no matter how knackered I was. Denial wasn’t an emotion I was feeling, but that didn’t mean I was ready for a sleepover.

  “Any chance someone can call me a taxi back to the hotel? I don’t have any numbers.”

  “What?” Greg said. He looked like he’d just been slapped.

  “You are safe here,” Karla said. “I can assure you of that.”

  God, I was so worn out. “This is just so weird.”

  “And it will continue to be weird tomorrow,” she added. “This is your first night, when you are so vulnerable to attack. Those who want you dead will be hunting the streets for you now that there is knowledge of you.” She sighed. “I know I cannot keep you locked in here, and nor would I. You have to be out there learning and doing the task that has been bestowed upon you. But not tonight. You’re all too tired. What good will you be to one another? I must insist.”

  “So, I’m a prisoner.” What a dick. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that.” My head needed a pillow.

  “Tomorrow you will have more answers. Until then, please accept my hospitality.”

  I needed to not be a stubborn dick about this. She was right. I couldn’t manage another kill or a fight. I really was burning out. “Okay.”

  “Wonderful. I have provided nightwear and a change of clothes for you, though I’m not sure of your size. I went for large.”

  I was medium, but that didn’t matter. I kept schtum.

  “Greg? Naomi?” she said. “Will you show Jake and Dean to the guest floor?”

  “No probs,” Naomi said. She was on her feet.

  She and Greg led us upstairs, across the landing to a door with more stairs going up. At the top of these was another landing with eight doors—four on each side of the corridor. There was another set of stairs at the end.

  “The ones on the right have the sea view,” Greg said. “On the left, a view of the ballroom.”

  “Ballroom?”

  “Technically yes, but we use it as a gym. Go for the sea view option. We also have a recreation room to hang out in. Got an awesome TV in there—great for movie nights.”

  “Any door?” I asked.

  “Yeah, they’re all the same,” he said. “We’ll be on the next floor up.” He gestured to the stairs at the end. “We live here proper now. Miss my flat a little bit.”

  “Right.”

  “I’ll show you some time. I own the garage beneath it—Stone Motors. Must put city tour on the list and having a pint.”

  “Yeah.”

  I went for the first door, pushing it open a little. I paused. “Goodnight. Thanks for not letting me die.”

  “Sorry for all the secrets,” Greg said.

  “Night, babe,” Naomi said, heading for the stairs.

  “Night,” Dean echoed, disappearing into the room next door to the one I’d picked.

  Greg stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I meant what I said about having a pint. If you’re up for it. I wish things had played out differently on our first meeting. You must’ve thought I was such a creepy bastard. No wonder you pulled that gun out.”

  Oh, bollocks. Where the hell was the gun? “You didn’t see it when you found me on the beach, did you? The gun, I mean?”

  “No, mate. Shit.”

  I ran a hand through my hair. “Damn.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll head out first light. Can’t have it fall into the wrong hands.”

  The risk was too high going out there now. I knew that. What a bloody idiot I was! If the police found it … Dean would have to work his stuff on them. I couldn’t deal with that, not right now. My head couldn’t take much more.

  “We’ll find this white eye guy too,” Greg said, “whoever he is …. whatever it is he’s done to you.”

  Shit. I wasn’t ready for this conversation. “I really need sleep.”

  “Yeah, good idea. Another problem for another day.”

  “And I will come out for that pint. It’ll be an orange juice or something, though. I don’t drink.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “See you in the morning?”

  “Yeah, mate. Sleep well.”

  “You too.” He headed off up the stairs to his room.

  I entered mine.

  The floor was wooden, mahogany, with a huge gray rug that the massive double bed rested on. There was a chest of drawers and a wardrobe. All the walls were a dark blue, the heavy curtains across the French windows matching them. I headed over for a look at the view. Yep, it was a cracking one. If it wasn’t pissing down, I’d have been on that balcony drinking it all in. But I wasn’t in the mood for more cold. It was warm, and I wanted things to stay that way.

  I went into the ensuite bathroom, immediately firing up the huge shower. It was super posh and powerful jets of water cascaded from the head. It reminded me of that time when I did my firs
t ever shoot for the cover of Vogue Magazine—the US version. I was on cloud nine, having met Anna Wintour and been showered with praise about how gorgeous a model I was by the photographer and his cronies. Shoot over and scoring some free Christian Dior swag, I’d returned to my swanky hotel in New York, buzzing from the coke I’d done, horny as hell. I’d fucked Michael, who’d been waiting for me, so good under that shower. It’d been one of the most intense sex sessions we’d ever had. The coke had helped. He hadn’t known then. I was still the golden boy, the world at my feet, modeling career mine to have. I was gonna be a superstar.

  Now, here I was, under a different hot shower, weeping for a time long gone, in a mansion with people I didn’t know, wanting nothing more than to be held by my dead husband.

  Who’d have thought my life would have ended up here?

  He cheated …

  He wanted to leave …

  He betrayed you …

  Needaline …

  I let the tears come, the sobs racked my body until it was all spent, me huddled on the floor with water pouring all over me. After about half an hour, I picked myself up, switched the shower off and wrapped a towel around my waist.

  There, I was clean and empty for a little while.

  I opened the chest of drawers to find some black pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. There were some boxer shorts and socks in there too. I slipped the night clothes on, which were a little baggy, and went to the wardrobe. There was a bottle-green jumper and black skinny jeans. I already had my boots.

  I climbed onto the bed. Holy crap, it was amazingly comfortable! I sank right into it, letting out a great big sigh of pleasure.

  The rain pounded the window. It was quite a soothing sound, especially with me being all warm and spread out on the bed.

  But I wasn’t too relaxed.

  I’m still coming for you, I said on the inside, a message put out there for the white eye guy. Man, was I ever preaching the truth. He had everything to do with all of this, knew who I was right from the moment he put that knife into Michael. Why had he saved me from that purple-haired woman? What did he want with me if not to kill me?

  I’d find out all of it, and when I did, his death would be worse than falling headfirst into the fires of Hell.

  Chapter 10

  I was dreaming. I knew this for a fact because I was standing on a beach of made up of rocks. Not pebbles like Brighton’s beach. No, actually big bloody rocks that were not fun to stand on, especially since I was barefoot and in my pajamas. The sea behind me was gray and in a really bad mood, throwing a proper tantrum at the rocky beach. The sky was chocked with rolling storm clouds, moving at a pace that’s seen on television when the time lapse is sped up. No rain or storm yet, but it was coming.

  Yeah, great dream.

  A humungous wall of rock towered above me, giving new insight into how big a cliff face could be. I couldn’t see any sign of the top.

  Where the hell was I?

  “Hello?”

  Yeah, that was clever.

  Dreaming though I was, this was still very real. Well, it felt real anyway—my feet could testify to that.

  At least I wasn’t dreaming of Michael.

  Just as I was considering a wander down the beach, taking into account I would probably ruin my feet, I lifted into the air. I wasn’t frightened. It was a dream, and it was nice to not be standing on the rocks anymore.

  Up and up I went. I turned to face the sea. It went on and on, spreading to a dark horizon. Lightning flashed in the distance. A storm was definitely ready to land.

  My ascent came to a gentle stop. I turned from the water to face a huge alcove in the cliff. There was a circle of rock in there, like a nest. In the center of it was another rock, smooth and gray and polished, not a flaw on it from what I could see from my position. I was pulled toward it, let down gently on the ground at the fringes of the rocky nest.

  This was a good, sheltered spot for sure. But what kind of bird laid rocks?

  I took a tentative step forward, waiting for something to jump out of the rock and let this whole dream become a crazy nightmare. Like a demon-possessed doll brandishing a knife with wicked eyes and loads of bloodlust. I heard the hyena thing laughing in my head, that horrible giggling and shrieking.

  “Can I wake up?” My words shut down my head.

  I took another few steps forward, the ground cool beneath my feet. It was some distance from the edge of the alcove to the nest proper. The rock didn’t have the smooth surface I’d assumed it did moments ago. The closer I got, I saw the bumps, the nodules erupting all over it, despite the gleaming shine to it. It was one of those moments where you see something in a museum you’re dying to touch, but you know you’ll get shouted at by the staff.

  I stepped over the rocks, into the circle with the lonesome rock. It was warm inside the circle, reminding me of the fire in Karla’s mansion. Proper cozy. I could just curl up and sleep … if I wasn’t already.

  I cracked my knuckles. Just one touch. So I did just that. The surface was rough and bumpy as it looked, but with a weird smoothness to it too. A good level of heat emanated from it that I pulled my hand back in shock first, before going in for round number two.

  The rock shook.

  “Shit!”

  I stumbled back, cracking my head on the rock nest wall. “Bollocks! What is this?”

  The rock shook some more, and I scrambled up onto the rocky ring, pajamas snagging on a jagged edge. I pulled it hard and the material ripped, making me lose my balance.

  I tumbled forward. Before my face could smack the ground, I woke up.

  “Blimey.”

  I sat up. It was still dark out, the rain still going for it.

  Well, that’d been interesting.

  Chapter 11

  The gray morning light pulled me from sleep. My eyes adjusted, heavy at first, then ready for another day. I sat up, wondering if I was dreaming still.

  Nope, no more creepy rocks in creepy rock nests.

  I checked my phone. It was 08:30. I’d half-expected a text from my sister, Jenny, to see if I’d fallen off the bandwagon and was dead somewhere in a ditch or some druggie den. We spoke every night. If I didn’t call or text, she went crazy. She was overprotective in a scary way.

  Yet she … she would have forgotten about me. That really hurt my heart. Was that true? How could that be true? But then, how could any of this be true? What was happening to me now was very, very real.

  Just another layer of shit to deal with in this madness I called my life.

  I really needed a cigarette.

  I went and took a piss, freshened up with toiletries I found in the bathroom cabinet, and slipped on the jumper and jeans that’d been provided.

  Now the rain had stopped, I decided to check out the balcony.

  The wind was cold and fresh and lifted my hair from my forehead. It was exhilarating. The day was gray and dull, the sea as angry as the one from my dream. The city sat in the distance to my right. I watched it, thinking of the white eye guy in there somewhere, laughing at me. Yeah, the bastard would be doing just that. He thought he was so bloody clever. I’d have my day. I just had this new problem to deal with.

  I stepped inside and closed the balcony windows.

  Problem? Was that what it was? Duty was probably the word for it, after what I’d been told. If this was my calling, if I was the only one who could kill those beast things, then I couldn’t really call it a problem. It meant something bigger than me. I hadn’t felt so important in years.

  If it did turn out I was on some drug trip, actually on a floor somewhere with a needle in my arm, I’d head-butt a wall. And if I had a needle in my arm that meant I’d fallen off the clean road and plunged straight into a lake of heroin.

  Slipping on the boots, I decided it was time to get out of this room.

  The hallway outside was silent. I didn’t fancy wandering up the stairs to the next floor, so I knocked on Dean’s door.

  He opened it s
econds later, standing there half-naked in his leather trousers. “Morning,” he said. His hair was wet and droplets of water trickled down his sculpted chest. “I’ll be down for breakfast soon. Just finishing up.”

  I dry swallowed. “Er, cool, I’ll, er, see you downstairs.” Shit, that body. I could feel the heat rising to my face. I turned and dashed downstairs, not looking back. Thank God there was no mirror to greet me on my journey—I’d have seen just how beetroot I’d become.

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  I was soon greeted by the smell of bacon and freshly baked bread. Ah, one of my favorite things. You can’t beat a good old bacon sarnie with a cuppa to start the day.

  I followed my nose to the posh dining room and was greeted by a table adorned with all the finer things in life—bacon, eggs, sausages, toast, beans, black pudding, the good old red and brown sauces, orange juice, milk, cereal, a sugar bowl, fresh coffee, and a teapot steaming at the spout.

  “Come eat,” Naomi said.

  It was just her and Karla.

  I took a pew.

  Karla was at the head of the table, to my left, sipping her beverage from that same little teacup she’d had last night. “Good morning, Jake,” she said. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Not bad, thanks,” I lied, reaching for the teapot and a cup.

  “I was concerned, what with all of the information I bombarded you with.”

  I poured out some tea. “I was knackered. Did me good.” I added a splash of milk.

  “I’m pleased to hear it.”

  “Greg’ll be back soon,” Naomi said. Her plate was decently loaded with grub. My kind of girl. “He’s out looking for the gun and having a look at the cave, setting up some rune alarms if he has to.”

  Damn. “I’m so sorry about that. It isn’t even mine. It’s the white eye guy’s. He dropped it after killing … the person I knew … and I picked it up before going after him. I’m such a dick.” I hadn’t thought about Tony making it two people I knew that the white eye guy had killed. Not that I gave a shit.

  “That person must have been close to you,” Naomi said, pausing in buttering some toast. “I can tell by the way your face changes. You look so … sad.”