Nightmare City: Book 1 Of The Nightmare City Series (Urban Fantasy)

by P. S. Newman

"I didn't expect you to take it so calmly," I admitted.

  "That the hellhounds were your shades?"

  I nodded.

  He suddenly had a sheepish look on his face. "I already knew. I read the file on your call to the hotline that night. You told them your name, remember?"

  That was how Ganner had known it was me, too. I had to squash the automatic impulse to give them my name next time. If there was a next time. "You seemed... upset when I told you. You didn't speak to me afterward."

  "We had a job to do," he explained with a shrug. "Discussing blame wasn't part of it. Plus, I was surprised you told me yourself. Few people admit to dreaming of fire-wielding hellspawn and handsome blond shade hunters out of a comic book."

  So he'd figured that part out, too. Not surprising, after the incident with the pictures at David’s place. "I didn't tell the hotline about my dream’s origins.”

  "Bobby, your filer friend at the Order, figured it out. I had no clue what he was going on about at first. Apparently, this comic series is one of his favorites. Took me a moment to realize it’s the same one you were telling me about a few days ago. And from what I could gather, Bobby’s favorite character isn't the Legolas wannabe, but his smoking hot girlfriend with the witchy eyes.” He winked, indicating he’d put two and two together and realized Bobby had been talking about my comic lookalike. “His words, not mine."

  Her eyes, not mine. I had to steer the conversation away from this subject, pronto. It was riddled with landmines of the incriminating persuasion and the doppelgänger had already fed Taylor enough clues to make him suspicious.

  "I like them both," I said with a shrug that hopefully came across as more noncommittal than I felt. "I just wish the whole banishing-shades-to-the-dreamscape thing worked in real life. It would make our job so much easier."

  He narrowed his eyes at me, though his lips did the twitchy almost-smile-of-amusement thing again. "Banishing?"

  "Never mind. No need to bore you with geek trivia while we're on duty. Wouldn't want to put you to sleep."

  "Good thinking, seeing as you'd be lost without me." He said it with a straight face, but there was a twinkle in his eyes. Was he having a good time?

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted David leading Cecelia off the dance floor. My pulse spiked when he left her with a group of other people and disappeared behind the stages.

  "What's going on?" Taylor asked. “Where’s he off to?”

  "Bathroom break?" I suggested, even though I didn't believe it was. This had to be it. Showtime.

  I suddenly had a hard time suppressing the nervous tremors running through me. I couldn't let Taylor feel them or he'd know as soon as they showed that video that I'd been aware of what was coming. Luckily, the band saved me by announcing a break between sets and leaving the stage. Both Taylor and I let go of each other at the same time.

  "Time to get back to work," he said, that smile still lurking in the corners of his mouth. I hated that it would soon be wiped off his face. I took a mental shot of it and stored it away in my memories, to remind myself later that he did have a humorous, almost playful side.

  "This was nice," I said. "Thanks for going easy on me."

  He shrugged. “You made it easy. I should be thanking you. I had fun tonight, which was… unexpected."

  I'd been talking about him being understanding about my hellhound shades, but I wasn't going to correct him. Instead, I focused on what was happening on the stage. A white screen was being lowered from the ceiling above the stage. The band's instruments disappeared behind it.

  "What are they up to?” I asked, hoping my voice didn't sound as tremulous as I heard it. I clasped my fingers together to stop my hands from shaking too visibly. God, I was a wreck.

  David stepped around the screen, a microphone in his hand. A spotlight found him. The crowd cheered, louder than they had for any of the other speakers earlier. The few reporters who’d been granted access flashed their cameras. No doubt about it: David was SHAID’s rock star.

  He smiled and spoke into the microphone. "Thank you all. I hope everyone is having fun tonight. I promise, I won't interrupt it for long, but I have something for you that is in the spirit of this evening's event." He held up a tape. The tape. "This was sent to me two days ago. It appears to have been made and sent by a shade who has made the news in a favorable way in the past week. I promise I will turn it over to the LAPD as soon as I have shown it - sorry for holding it back at all, Detective Perez."

  A few cameras snapped in Cecelia's direction at the mention of her name. She frowned up at David from the crowd, playing the part of no-longer-amused cop perfectly. Nobody looking at her would think she had known about this video beforehand. David was shouldering the blame that would arise.

  "This shade has a request and an offer for us," he continued. A technician came onto the stage, took the tape from David and disappeared again. "I ask you to hear him out. I won't deny that what he is asking is illegal - something we of SHAID have been working for years to rectify. Maybe, with his help, we will get more support from the rest of the world. Maybe we'll finally be able to change things."

  The crowd cheered, albeit more restrained than before. I dared a glance at Taylor. He had his arms crossed in front of his chest, anger deepening the frown lines on his forehead. An explosion waiting to happen.

  "Roll it," David called toward the technician in the back of the room and hopped off the stage. The screen lit up, first in white, then switching to black. The hall went so quiet, you could have heard a feather hit the ground.

  Greyson appeared, larger-than-life, at the side of the screen. He walked into the shot as if from behind the camera he'd just switched on. The background was entirely black. There were no discerning features anywhere. His steps were muffled, the only noise in the entire hall.

  He turned around to face the camera. The crowd gasped.

  "It's the warrior who's been saving peoples' lives," someone whispered, clearly audible in the dead quiet. A murmur ran through the crowd, cut off when Greyson opened his mouth.

  "My name is Greyson Deynar," he said. "I am a shade." He looked down at his hands and took a deep breath. "I ask you to hear me out to the end. I know that being in contact with me and helping me is illegal, so I promise to never put you in such a compromising position. It would be counter-productive to my goals, since I'm going to need your help to achieve them. But maybe I can help you in return.”

  He spread his arms and slowly turned once around. "As you can see, I appear fully human. I feel human. I’m a shade, yes, but I have a name. I have thoughts and opinions of my own. I manifested in this world with a purpose and a profession - to hunt down those shades that threaten innocents. I am not that threat. If I were allowed, I could help lessen it. I have helped lessen it. You have proof enough of that."

  He stepped closer to the camera until I could see both the gray and the brown in his eyes. It felt like he was staring right at me.

  “My offer is this,” he carried on. "I will continue to save people's lives. I will do this, either until I'm caught or until SHAID reaches its ultimate goal - the right for benevolent shades to live in freedom. I want you to use me as an example of how shades can benefit society in your fight for shade rights."

  He paused, gathering his thoughts. A pleading, hopeful smile hit everybody in the hall. "I'm a good person. I want to help. I can help. I want to be a part of this society, this world. Let me be a part of it. Let me help keep you safe." He took a deep breath. "Thank you for listening." He came towards us, his face disappearing above the screen. A giant hand swooped over the camera. The video cut off, the screen turning white once again.

  Dead silence reigned in the hall. People threw each other glances, their faces frozen. A soft murmur started up, people whispering to each other.

  Taylor leaned down to me. "Tell me this is a joke."

  I shook my head, feigning surprise. "I don't think so."

  "You don't think so?" he mimicked, his tone i
ncredulous. "That was your fucking shade giving a speech for shade equality up there."

  There wasn't anything I could say that would take his blame off me. My silence, as well as my assurances of innocence, would damn me in his eyes.

  "This is bullshit," Taylor ground out. "Shades are evil."

  And there it was. The divide we would never overcome. A hundred dances wouldn't change how he felt about shades. About people like me.

  "Not all of them," I said.

  The spotlight found David as he strode back on stage. The murmurs died down. "I know this is a bit of a shock," he said into the microphone. "Believe me, when I saw it for the first time, I thought I was dreaming. But, for what it's worth, I think it's a good idea. All he's asking is that we try harder to reach our goal. To that extent, he has given us permission to use him as our poster child. Poster shade, as it were. As long as nobody stands in direct or indirect contact with him, we have nothing to lose. In fact... " He scanned the crowd as if waiting for someone. "Where's that tape, Tommy? I promised to hand it over to the cops. I can even lend them our VCR if the department doesn’t have one. I had to dig deep in my attic to find this one."

  The beginning laughter was interrupted by Taylor, who stepped toward the stage, hand held up in an unmistakable demand to pass the tape on to him. "I'll take it, Mr. Baptiste," he called out. "This matter concerns a shade, meaning it’s under the Somni Order's jurisdiction. The tape goes to the Order. I'm the only Order representative present tonight, so that means me. The LAPD can fight me on that if it wants to.”

  He looked around and found Cecelia in the crowd. She frowned at him. This was not what we'd had in mind. The tape was supposed to go to Cecelia, who would have it tested for fingerprints and the usual, but not excessively so. If Taylor got his hands on that tape, he would tear it apart until it told him its entire life story. But if the Order demanded the tape, Cecelia couldn't keep it from them. When it came to shades, responsibilities between the LAPD and the Order were clear.

  "He's right," she said with a nod to David, "it's the Order's business."

  David handed the tape down to Taylor, who snatched it out of his hand and turned to the crowd. He held the tape up for all to see. "If anybody is found to be in contact with this shade, the Order will take action against you. Harboring shades is a felony that can end in prison, and there is a reason. These things are volatile, unstable. They can blow up in our faces. They are dangerous. They are monsters, no matter what package they come in. The Order is the only thing that stands between you and them and we will take action against anyone who tries to make our mission difficult for us."

  The silence was deafening. SHAID members stared at him, open-mouthed, fear in their eyes. Exactly what he wanted.

  I wanted to strangle him.

  A tiny, elderly lady wearing a blue dress and a pale pink hat on her head limped forward on a cane. She looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't remember where I'd seen her before. She stopped in front of Taylor. He towered three feet above her, but she peered up at him, unimpressed.

  "I don't know what shades ever did to you to make you so full of hate, young man," she said, stabbing the business end of her cane in his direction. "But I recognize you. You were there that day. You're that hunter that almost shot me to get to Mr. Deynar.” She waved her cane in the direction of the screen on which Greyson had been projected moments before. “He had just risked his life to save mine. You think about that for a moment and then you tell me who the real monster is."

  A gasp went through the crowd as they recognized her. It was Mrs. O'Leary, the lady with the grocery bags whom Greyson had rescued from the hellhounds.

  "Take your evidence," she said to Taylor with a wave of her hand. "It won't help your cause. I, for one, support this proposition." She shook her head, suddenly smiling. "And to think I wasn't even a member of SHAID until a couple of days ago."

  That prompted titters throughout the crowd, and the tension in the hall disintegrated.

  "Let's do this," someone called from the back. Another person whooped. A chant rose from the crowd. "Shade rights, shade rights, shade rights." Cameras flashed.

  I pressed my lips together and fought both the smile and tears threatening to explode. I resisted the urge to run up to Taylor and thank him. His shade-bashing had brought the people to Greyson's side faster and stronger than any subtle cajoling could have.

  Taylor knew a lost cause when it sneered in his face. With one last glare at the crowd, he tucked the tape under his arm, turned on his heel and stalked out, chased by cheers.

  Once he was gone, the reporters focused on David and Mrs. O'Leary, who were introducing themselves to each other. Cecelia's gaze found mine through the crowd and she winked. I grinned back, barely able to contain the whoop of joy that wanted to be let loose from deep in my belly. I scanned the crowd for Bella but couldn't find her. Neither did I spot Sean. Guilt nibbled at me. I should have somehow let them know that the big moment was coming. Bella had wanted to see it, to be involved.

  I pulled my phone from my belt and dialed Bella's number. It rang. And rang and rang, until her mailbox answered.

  "Hi, this is Bellabong, leave your message at the..."

  I hung up before the ‘gong’ and looked for Cecelia. Maybe she knew where Bella was roaming around.

  My phone rang in my hand. Before I could answer, a deafening roar shook the building.

  For the second time that night, the entire SHAID congregation froze where they stood.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  It was Johnson on the phone. "My men on the roof say we have a chimera incoming from the West. Looks like one of those mutated hounds you told us about."

  "Start the evacuation," I said. "I'll be right out."

  When I hung up, I found the entire gathering looking at me. "Sorry folks, party's over. We have a chimera crashing this shindig. Ironic, huh?" A few titters and smiles all around. Cameras flashed, blinding me. Great; I was the motif of the moment. "It's coming from the direction of the courtyard out back. Please evacuate through the front exits. You know the drill, people. Stay calm, help each other, follow the security team's instructions. My partner and I will take care of this."

  If only I had a clue where said partner had gone. For all I knew, he'd left to get tests on the tape started right away. Ugh!

  "You heard the lady," Johnson called, jogging up from the other end of the hall with four of his men in tow. "There are three exits you can take. Please split up evenly as you follow my men. They will take you to those exits. Calm and easy. No running!"

  People began to move towards the Eastern exits. Paces were brisk, but nobody ran or screamed - regular mandatory evac training working its magic.

  David, Cecelia, Johnson, and I met at the edge of the stage.

  "Where's Bella?" Cecelia asked. She had her phone against her ear.

  "I was hoping you knew," I said. "She must still be off with Sean."

  "I have men sweeping the upper floors to track down anybody who might have wandered into the restricted areas," Johnson said. "They'll find them."

  "Mailbox. Damn it, Bella.” Cecelia hung up. She looked at us as if daring to contradict her next words. "I'm not leaving without her."

  "Then I'm staying, too," David announced.

  "No," Johnson and I said at the same time.

  “This chimera could be after you, David.” I looked both at him and Cecelia. "You two and your bodyguards are leaving in the armored Suburban, like we discussed."

  "No," Cecelia said. "Not without Bella."

  I took hold of her arm. "I will find her and keep her safe. That's why I'm here." And not just here at this gala. "You won't help me if I have to worry about you, too." As a cop, she knew the truth in what I was saying.

  Cecelia's eyes searched mine. "I know you're right," she whispered. "But I can't just leave her..."

  "I will find her," I said, with a conviction in my voice I didn't quite feel.

  "Promise?"

&n
bsp; "I promise."

  She nodded and pecked a quick kiss on my cheek. "Give that chimera hell."

  David turned to look at me as they hurried away. "Thank you," he mouthed. They disappeared through the front door, two of Johnson’s men in tow.

  Johnson and I jogged to the Western exit. I dialed Taylor's number, but the call went straight to voice mail. "Taylor, we have an incoming chimera at the gala. Get your ass back here, partner."

  "What can we do to help?" Johnson asked. “My men tell me it’s bulletproof, as expected.”

  "Find Bella and Sean, and get them out of here. Also, we’ll need the fire extinguishers.” Taylor and I had stashed four fire extinguishers in a back room, just in case. “Don’t engage unless it’s threatening people."

  "Copy that." He relayed the information to his men through their in-ear walkie-talkies.

  We reached the west exit that led to the loggias and the courtyard just in time to see the chimera shouldering its way through the pillars at the opposite end beyond the fountain. This beast was even larger than the one at the factory. Its sides touched the pillars and it had to beneath the loggia roof to enter the courtyard. White-yellow bolts of electricity crackled over its black hide, zapping the marble as it passed. I remembered this one from my dream. We'd gone up close and personal. It had set me on fire and melted the flesh off my bones. Electro-Hound.

  "I wouldn't stick my sword in that," Johnson said, thinking along similar lines. "Unless you want to become a conduit for all that electric energy."

  Yep, no slicing and dicing with this one. Or touching. I’d been hoping I could figure out how the doppelgänger was linked to it by touching it with my power. No explosive grenades, either, if I wanted to keep the building and its priceless collection intact. "I'll try to keep it as far from the main building as possible."

  "How?"

  "I’ll improvise. I need those fire extinguishers, now. And if there's a hose somewhere to water all those plants in the courtyard, get it functioning and spray the shade with it. If there's a sprinkler system, turn it on. Anything that will put out a fire might kill this shade or at least bring its power and size down a notch.” I wished we’d thought of using hoses and sprinklers earlier. I’d just never expected the damn thing to be the size of a fudging semi. “And my net gun might come in handy if the chimera shrinks a bit. It's in my van. Have someone get it and try to catch the chimera from the roof."