by Steve McHugh
Layla nodded. “I know. He was butchering people. He was hunting and slaughtering them, and he wasn’t going to stop. He wasn’t going to get better. He’d been turned into a werewolf, but he chose to behave like a monster. And so I killed him. It’s been sixteen months, and I’ve killed more during that time. Always in battle; always because it was them or me, or my friends. Or for someone else who didn’t deserve to die.”
“But the werewolf was different.”
Layla nodded, remembering when she’d refused to kill him at first, refused to take a life. The werewolf had escaped and killed three more innocents before she’d caught him again. Three lives she could have saved if she hadn’t hesitated. She dreamed about them more than she did of her father. She dreamed about her own failure. “I took his life because there was no one else to do it. I had to make a choice, and it wasn’t an easy one. But I dealt with it: I’m not him. I see that. I understand that. Nevertheless, somewhere inside of me, I still wonder if I’m going down a road that I can’t turn back from. And that scares me.”
“I’ve killed countless people,” Rosa said. “I don’t even remember their names. Not all of them, anyway. I remember those who died because I wasn’t quick enough to save them, and I remember those who died because I didn’t do the right thing. Those ones lay heavy on your soul, as they should. They show us that we need to do better. That we have to constantly strive to be better.”
“At killing people,” Layla said.
“Sometimes, yes. The others you killed, you don’t think about them. You don’t dream about them.”
Layla stared out of the car window, looking into the distance as she spoke. “You probably already know, but I was in a firefight about a year ago. Thirty men and women were shooting assault rifles at the six of us. I killed two of them, because I was unwilling to let the bastards hurt my friends: people like Tommy, Diana, Remy, and Chloe. They’ve killed for the cause, too. I think Terhal helps my mind deal with what I need to do. I think she allows me to, if not outright accept, at least digest the actions I’ve had to take to keep my friends and innocent people alive.
“We are at war with Avalon. With Arthur and anyone who would crush those who dare oppose them. It’s a war with no end in sight, and I’m a criminal to those people. The LOA want us found and arrested. Or killed. I doubt they care much one way or the other. It feels like everything has been flipped around since Arthur declared open season on his enemies. Since he woke up, took charge of Avalon, and began massacring anyone who opposed him. How many thousands died in those early days? How many humans and non-humans alike?
“I doubt I’ve killed for the last time. But I don’t want to reach the point where I kill and feel nothing for it. Taking a life should mean something. I’m only twenty-three and I’ve become a soldier in a war I didn’t want any part of. One that I never asked to be a part of, but a war I will fight to the bitter end to keep people safe. Arthur brought this fight into our lives, and we will end it.”
Rosa stared at Layla for several seconds. “You were a bit all over the place there. You feel better?”
Layla nodded. “If I’m right, and Terhal is helping me deal with the other lives I’ve taken, that’s probably for the best. I don’t have the luxury of freezing or second-guessing myself. These people aren’t human, and they will destroy or take whatever they want. It’s our job to stop them. Like I said, a lot has happened in the last two years.”
“You know you can talk to me, right? I mean, I know you do, but about anything.”
Layla smiled. “I know. And I’m happy to talk to you, but you chose to kill people for a living. I find that idea . . .”
“Abhorrent?”
“I was going to say alien.”
“That too. I was trained from a young age to take life. That was my destiny. I was good at it. And I didn’t mind doing it. At least not until I actually sat down and thought about it, but by then I was in far too deep and had already become an umbra. I hadn’t completely grasped what my life was going to change into once I’d agreed to kill for Queen and Country. Although I agree that it sounds like I had a choice.
“You’re not like me, Layla. You’re not cold. You’re not capable of ignoring your emotions enough to kill a man in his bathtub while his family are eating in the room next door. You don’t want to become that person, and you won’t, I promise you. You’re a good person. Better than I ever was. Better than Servius, and better even than Gyda, who was never the goodie-two-shoes her judgmental arse likes to believe she was. She forgets we all know one another’s sordid little life stories. You’re a good person, Layla. But sometimes, good people have to do bad things. Just look at Chloe. She’s a good person, but she’s more than capable of pushing that aside to get the job done. You want to know the real difference between you and your father?”
“He was insane?”
“Apart from that.”
Layla nodded.
“He enjoyed taking life. He loved it. I’ve the same memories of his interviews and information that you do.” Rosa tapped the side of her head. “You know it’s true. You know that you don’t like hurting people, but that sometimes you have to do what you need to do. You’re not him, Layla. Don’t ever think you are.”
“Do you regret anything?” Layla asked, wanting to move away from the topic of her father.
“Lots of things,” Rosa said. “But mostly that I never got to go to all of these amazing places for anything other than to remove a stain on humanity; that I didn’t get to enjoy my visits. I just did my job and left. Even when I stopped working for Queen Victoria and essentially vanished, I was always looking over my shoulder. I wish I’d have just taken some time to enjoy the world.”
“Damn it, I thought you were going to say something frivolous, and then I was going to mock you. I can’t mock you for sounding so heartfelt,” Layla said with a smirk.
“Would you prefer that I said I wish I’d eaten more cake? Do you want to tell me what quip you had ready?”
“Not now. You ruined it with your words of bitter, bitter honesty.”
Rosa laughed. “I’m clearly a monster.”
Layla was about to say more when Diana’s voice entered her ear. “I’m close to the mansion. I’ll keep the irritating little thing on for now.”
“You’re not talking about Remy, are you?”
Diana chuckled as Chloe’s voice started in Layla’s ear. “You there?”
“What’s up?” Layla asked, her attention immediately focused.
“Our contact is in the house. He’s in a building near the one where we’re being kept. I saw them dragging him outside. My cell has a small window that looks out onto the back garden. It’s barred, but I heard them talking about him as some sort of traitor to his kind. I think they’re going to kill him.”
“You need help?”
“I’m not talking to anyone,” Chloe said, followed by the muffled sounds of someone talking to her.
“Chloe, what’s going on?”
Layla heard Chloe’s heavy breathing, and a minute later her friend’s earpiece went dead.
“Chloe’s in trouble,” Layla said.
“I heard,” Diana said in her ear. “We’re approaching the house now. Meet us as soon as you can.”
Layla switched on the Mustang’s ignition and sped away. She wasn’t going to lose another friend. Not here, not now, and certainly not to people who would help abduct innocents for Nergal and his cronies to experiment on.
2
Layla stopped the Mustang on the side of the main road and began jogging through the darkness up the dirt path toward the mansion. Large gates barred her entrance to the property, and the white stone wall that surrounded it was at least fifteen feet high and topped with razor wire. She needed to find another way inside. Or fight her way through her enemies inside. She wasn’t sure she could do that and get people out alive, so she looked to the side of the building to try to find a way around it.
The pathway was diffic
ult to spot at first, and Layla only discovered it after pushing aside several thin branches, which gave way and tore down some of the overgrown vines that covered it.
Layla ducked under the remaining branches and followed the trail around to the side of the mansion. She glanced back through the thick deterrent of thorny bushes that separated her from the main road where she’d parked the car. There was no way anyone could get straight through it without a machete. Either the estate had become the creepiest place on Earth by sheer accident, or someone had purposefully made sure it looked that way.
The path turned into a slope, and Layla was careful not to slip on the muddy ground. By the time she reached the bottom, the skies had begun to open and rain quickly slicked the ground around her.
“Guess I’m not getting out that way without some luck,” she said to herself, removing a hairband from her pocket and tying up her long hair in a ponytail. When she’d first gained her abilities as an umbra, Layla’s hair had been dark blue, but once she’d finally come to accept what she’d become, she decided to change it slightly, so her hair was now dark blue on top and lighter blue the further down it went, ending in a more aqua color.
“We’ll just have to use the front door then,” Diana said as she stepped out of the undergrowth, the razor-sharp claws on her fingers retracting. Some people were lucky enough that they came with their own set of machetes.
Layla sighed with relief. Diana was over six feet tall, with olive skin and dark hair. She was a warrior through and through and had spent the last two years training Layla to fight and defend herself. Their friend Harry once suggested that she would make a great Wonder Woman, which was fitting since Diana had once been considered the goddess of the hunt, the moon, and nature by the Romans.
“Where’s Remy?” Layla asked when it was apparent that Diana was alone.
“He went around the other side of the building. Don’t worry, if he’d been captured the building would be on fire. There would be screams, and panic; generally, he’s a liability who shouldn’t be allowed out.”
Layla smiled. That sounded par for the course where Remy was concerned.
“Chloe still in there?” Diana asked. “I thought about just going through the wall, but there’s no telling who, or what, is waiting for us. This forest does not make for easy navigation in human form. Nor does the fact that we’re pretty close to a swamp. The mansion’s grounds begin fairly close to the water, so we’re going to have to figure out a way to get through it if we want to get around to the rear of the grounds.”
Layla sighed. “This was meant to be an easy mission: track the spirit scrolls and get them out of circulation. Then we find kidnapped people, and who knows what else. It’s turning shitty, just like everything else Nergal has his grubby fingers in.”
“Let’s shut this all down then,” Diana said.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Layla told her.
“Me too. You know Chloe is good, though, right? There’s no way she’s anything more than mildly irritated at the moment.”
Layla nodded, despite her uncertainty. “Even so, we can’t let her have all the fun.”
“Oh, heavens no,” Diana agreed. “That’s just rude.”
Despite their jovial tones, it was obvious that Layla and Diana were concerned for Chloe, and they were soon on their way again, moving further and further around the property and finding that it bordered more and more swampland dense with cypress trees.
“What’s that?” Layla asked as they turned a corner and found the remains of what appeared to be an old hut. The door was no longer attached, and most of the front wall looked as though it might collapse at any moment.
Diana walked over to a hole in the wall and looked in. “Shit.”
Before Layla could ask what was wrong, Diana tore huge chunks out of the wood, tossing them aside and ignoring the falling roof as it landed all around her.
Layla stepped back and let Diana work. It was easier than trying to interfere and getting hit with flying pieces of wood.
A few seconds later, the front wall of the hut, along with the roof, was all but demolished, revealing a blue Ford SUV.
“That looks new,” Layla said.
Diana stepped over a pile of debris and peered into the Ford’s rear window. “Looks new inside, too. There are rucksacks in here.” Diana’s fingernails grew several inches and became razor sharp. She tapped them against the glass of the rear window, which behaved as though it had been hit with a safety hammer. Diana reached in and pulled out one of the rucksacks, throwing it to Layla.
Layla emptied the contents onto the ground and found several forms of identification for a young woman by the name of Samantha Daze. “She’s nineteen,” Layla said.
Diana joined her with four more bags, dumping their contents beside Layla. “Five kids out driving. Looks like these people grabbed them. Wasn’t long ago, either. There are tire tracks leading away from the hut. I think the hut was staged to look decrepit. Looks like someone didn’t expect visitors here. Maybe they stashed the vehicle until they could dispose of it?”
“Why not put it in the compound?”
Diana shrugged. “Maybe this was done not long ago, and there are police out looking for the occupants. If it’s on the land and law enforcement or snooping people turn up, it could jeopardize whatever is happening here.”
“You think the occupants of the SUV are the captives Chloe mentioned?”
“I hope so,” Diana said.
“It’s a big risk to just take people from the road.”
“Maybe five lost kids were too good an opportunity to pass up. They come to the house, ask for directions, and before they know it, they’re permanent residents of the place.”
Layla stared at the smiling face of Samantha Daze; her big blue eyes and blonde hair, the easy-going expression she wore, the fact that she had her whole life before her. Layla was only a few years older than Samantha, but it felt like there was a lifetime between them. “We need to get in there,” she said without looking up from the girl’s picture.
“There has to be a back way in,” Diana said. “The car tracks go through that path over there.” Diana sniffed the air. “No one has been this way for a few days, maybe longer. It’s rained since then, too. Difficult for me to pick up scents.”
“Follow the trail it is then,” Layla said, getting back to her feet and pocketing the I.D. She was going to ask the smugglers where the young people were, and if she didn’t like their answers, then she was going to do everything in her power to find them. Layla wasn’t sure what else she was going to do if she didn’t get answers she liked.
The pair continued to follow the increasingly inhospitable path around the mansion until it became more swamp than dry land. Large trees grew out of the water, alongside damaged and broken stumps that jutted out from the surface of the swamp, as if coming up for breath. Green ferns—overgrown and wild—spilled over the banks of land. It was impossible to know what lay just beneath the surface of the murky water.
“You think there are alligators in there?” Layla asked. “Because I’d rather not get eaten today.”
Diana pointed across the swamp to a small jetty. “That’s where we need to be. It looks like it leads into a boathouse at the rear of the property.”
“Why not use this place to drop off any illicit cargo?”
“My guess is that it’s too dangerous to get it from the sea to here.” Diana picked up a fist-sized rock and hurled it into the swamp. “No alligators,” she said after a few seconds of watching the water ripple.
“No alligators in that spot,” Layla said. “Lots of other spots.”
“They’re not like crocs,” Diana said. “Not as aggressive.”
“Doesn’t mean they won’t try to eat us if we go swimming with them.”
Diana picked up another rock and threw it into a separate part of the swamp. Yet again, nothing stirred. “It’s fifty feet to the jetty. Do you have a better idea?”
Lay
la reached out with her power, hoping to find something useful. Layla’s umbra ability allowed her to manipulate metal. She could melt it, change its shape, move it around, and one of the other tricks she’d learned over the last few years was the ability to sense large enough amounts of it from a distance. She focused her efforts around the jetty and the small building beside it and got a hit of metal almost immediately.
“There’s a boat in there,” she said, pointing to the boathouse. “Not a big boat—it’s only large enough for two or three people—but it’s better than swimming.”
“You think you can pull it over here?”
Layla reached out again, this time wrapping her power around the metal in the boat, and immediately began to drag it out from where it was moored. But after a few feet, the boat stopped moving. Layla concentrated as she moved her power to try to find the source of the resistance. If there was a rope attached, then it would mean swimming was their best option, but as she searched she discovered the metal chain that moored the boat.
With a quick flare of power, Layla tore the boat free and felt the surge of movement as she navigated the small vessel out of the hut and into the swamp. It wasn’t easy to do when she couldn’t see the boat, and it took a lot of physical effort, but soon it became visible and easier to manipulate.
“Nice going,” Diana said when the boat had reached the shore and she climbed in.
“Thanks,” Layla said, also stepping in and sitting down, glad to take a breather.
The boat’s metal hull was painted white. It had an outboard motor and two wooden benches and that was it. It was only about eight feet long, and Layla was almost certain that it would be of zero help if the waters became choppy, but using the two wooden paddles also resting inside, it was good enough for a short voyage.
About halfway across the swamp, the boat was hit by something that quickly swam away, leaving the wake of a large tail as it vanished into the gloomy water. Layla continued to paddle without a word.
“Okay,” Diana said. “You were right.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
