The Haunted Hero: an adult urban fantasy (The Aria Fae Series Book 4)

by H. D. Gordon

  Through teeth gritted tight enough to crack, he said, “They took him. Dragged him out of the house by his legs, ripped him out of my arms and took off into the night. He screamed the whole way. He screamed my name and I couldn’t help him.”

  I was terrified to ask, and every hair on my body felt as though it were standing on end. My heart was at a standstill in my chest, but I had to know.

  “Who?” I asked. “Who took him?”

  “Not who,” said Dr. Cross. “What.” He cleared his throat. “I believe they’re called Hellhounds.”

  “And it’s your goddamn fault, you little hussie!” Chris roared.

  He lunged toward me as if to wrap his fingers around my throat and squeeze with all his strength, but even in my weakened state I was faster than him. I stood and scooted out of his reach with the agility of a feline. He stumbled and spun around to face me again, as if preparing another charge.

  I held my hands up, palms out in my lion-tamer gesture, pouring a little persuasion on the pie.

  “I’d think twice there, buddy,” I told Caleb’s older brother. “I’ve got a helluva right hook. Put you out for the night.”

  Chris looked pleadingly at his father. “I say we just shoot this bitch. If it wasn’t for her, none of this would’ve happened.”

  “Actually,” I said, “pretty sure you guys were responsible for creating the Blue Beast, and the Blue Beast killed the wife and daughter of the madman who sent the Hellhounds here to take Caleb.” My hands clenched into fists. “So I’m pretty sure that makes this your fault. All I’ve been doing is cleaning up your messes.”

  Chris reached into the waistband of his slacks and produced a black handgun. He cocked it audibly and pointed the barrel at me. “Let me kill her, dad. Just let me kill her.”

  “Put the gun away, son,” Dr. Cross said. “At the moment, we need her.”

  As if to accentuate his point, a bold bolt of lightning stole across the sky, lighting up the windows that made up the west wall, temporarily throwing the study into sharp relief. Heartbeats later, a terrific roar of thunder clapped as if just over our heads. Rain began to pour in sheets, tapping against the glass like countless insistent fingers.

  “Why?” Chris snapped. “She’s caused nothing but problems. She broke Caleb’s heart!”

  “Don’t be so shortsighted,” replied the doctor, still perched casually on the edge of his over-compensating desk. He looked at me again, fixing me with that cold, blue gaze. “Blame whomever you like for the things you believe got us here, Miss Fae, but believe me when I say Caleb is innocent, and he doesn’t deserve to die.”

  I spread my hands. “Perhaps the only thing in the world we agree on,” I said.

  “Then you agree that this man, this Leonard Boyce, needs to be stopped, and you’ll do whatever it takes to stop him from hurting the ones you love? You’ve heard the saying, ‘the enemy of my enemy,’ no?”

  Dr. Cross was no stupid man. I was not surprised that he knew about Boyce, as Caleb had told me that I wasn’t the only one who watched closely the going-ons in Grant City. Also, we both knew my answers to these questions. I only looked at him, standing my ground and watching the lightning flash in the windows at his back with nervous eyes.

  The clock was ticking.

  “How do I find him?” I asked. “Where is Boyce? Where has he taken them?”

  Dr. Cross looked at me over the rims of his glasses and said, “He’s got your friends, and my boy, and the power of Zeus at his fingertips. You understand that you need to kill him, right?”

  My eyes narrowed. I swallowed a bit of blood and a cough.

  “I won’t let him hurt them,” I said.

  Dr. Cross pushed off from his desk and came to stand a little too close to me for comfort. “That’s not good enough,” he said in a calm, but fierce voice. “He’s sold his soul to make this deal, and he’s going to kill everyone you love while you watch if you don’t take him out. I need you to tell me you won’t hesitate. You need to kill Leonard Boyce.”

  Rage stole over me like something possessed, and I grabbed the doctor by his collar and lifted him off his feet into the air. I gave him a rough shake as I held him above me. His head bobbed around his neck in a most amusing manner, though all I could feel was the fury.

  “I don’t owe you shit,” I growled.

  From the corner of my eye I saw Chris running toward me, and threw the doctor against the wall with enough force to rattle his bones. I shifted my body to the side so that Chris would fly past me, but caught him by the back of his shirt as he did so, and tossed his punk ass into the opposite wall I’d tossed his father. Books fell from the shelves and hit the Cross men atop the head.

  Outside, the lighting struck and the thunder rolled.

  I coughed into my jacket and licked the blood from my lips. “Where?” I said. “We don’t have time for this. Caleb doesn’t have time for this.”

  Dr. Cross pulled himself to his feet and straightened out his attire. Limping and bleeding from the forehead, he grabbed a remote from the desktop and aimed it at a flat screen that hung inconspicuously amongst the bookshelves. To my surprise, the device actually powered on.

  “The power is back?” I asked, looking at the doctor in confusion.

  “Just the television,” answered Dr. Cross, “and it’s only broadcasting this.”

  I looked back at the television screen to see a message of black letters on a stark white background. The message read: To the Masked Maiden of Grant City, your most precious will perish in the same place as did mine. Come bear witness, as I have done.

  I turned on my heels, my destination finally clear, the end of this suffering finally near. Dr. Cross called out to me as I reached the door, and I paused without looking back.

  “You’re going to have to kill him, Aria,” the doctor said. “He’s behind some kind of barrier my men can’t get past. It’s up to you to take him out. You’re putting all of their lives in danger if you don’t think so.”

  The very last thing in the world that I needed at that moment was advice from a rich, evil scientist, so I kept on walking.

  It was time for the hero to face the monster, but as the ghosts of Leonard Boyce’s wife and daughter hovered near the edges of my vision, I wasn’t sure which of us was which.

  I supposed it depended on which one of us ended this night alive, whoever survived to tell the tale.

  CHAPTER 31

  The rain drenched me as if to born me anew. It felt in thick sheets from the sky, slanting in the wind as if the world were tilted. The roar of the thunder resounded in my bones, the lightning striking as though to rip the atmosphere.

  My hood was pulled tightly over my head, but it was soaked through and sticking to my wet hair beneath. I moved as swiftly as I could, needing to make one quick stop before I went to face my fate.

  When I got to the lair, climbing in through the second story office window and leaving a puddle on the floor where I landed, the place was dark and silent. I tried not to let the panic I was feeling overcome me, but I was shaking as I removed the wet clothing and replaced it with the Masked Maiden suit, complete with cape and the bulletproof jumpsuit Matt had custom made me.

  Once I was all suited up, I wasted no time in heading back out. The storm had only kicked up in intensity during my short absence, and traveling by rooftop was made all the more difficult because of the now slippery surfaces.

  The bastard was on the Grant City Bridge. I knew this because it was the place where he’d lost his wife and daughter, and he wanted it to be the place where I lost the ones I loved.

  As I drew closer, a new ghost began to blink in and out on the edges of my blurry vision. It took me a moment to place the boy for all the rain and the fuzziness in my head. Then, it hit me, and the memories connected to the image flooded over me like the storm through which I was travelling.

  It was the ghost of the Blue Beast, or rather, the ghost of the Halfling boy who’d been turned into the Blue Beast.
I knew I needed to keep going, that there were places to be and people to see, but I couldn’t help but pause a moment and take him in.

  He’d been just a child, and I’d watched him die. I had held him in my arms as he drew his last breath. He floated alongside me now, hovering like a holographic memory, tugging at my mind like all the others.

  I pressed onward. I would make it to that bridge and end this thing once and for all.

  Or so I thought…

  On one of the leaps over a fifteen-foot gap between buildings, I underestimated the distance and sucked in a gulp of air that promptly led to a disgusting coughing fit. This coughing fit caused me to misjudge my footing, and I felt my body being pulled by gravity toward the pavement.

  My limbs flailed as the ground rushed up toward me, my stomach rising all the way up to my throat. In the moments before I smashed to pieces, I thought that it was absolutely nutty that after everything, the thing that would take me out would be a botched leap between buildings.

  Just before I was destroyed by impact, I was scooped up like a pile of jacks and a rubber ball. I was lifted back into the sky as strong arms wrapped about me. It was such a close call, and I was in such shock that it took me a long, heart-stalling moment to realize who had caught me.

  Rain dripping down the handsome edges of his face, Remy grinned down at me from the shadows of his Night Rider hood.

  “You almost bit it, little Halfling,” said the demi-God, cradling me in his arms as if I weighed no more than a cup of sugar, speaking loudly as to be heard over the roaring skies.

  “How did you find me?” I asked. “Your timing couldn’t have been more perfect.”

  Remy carried us through the storm as though it was as natural as breathing, but I could see the tension riding in his shoulders.

  “I have some business I had to attend to,” he said. “I returned to Grant City an hour ago and couldn’t reach Raven. Or you. Or any of your sidekicks.”

  “They’re not my sidekicks,” I snapped. “They’re my friends.”

  Remy shrugged this away, dodging swiftly to the left to avoid a bolt of electricity that tore through the night. “Whatever they are,” he said. “They’re in trouble, so I’m here to help.”

  “The bridge,” I said. “They’re at the bridge. That’s where you have to take me.”

  That was the end of conversation as Remy guided us through the night. Moments later, my feet were touching down on the road just off of the Grant City Bridge, where the few people who’d ventured out in the storm were stopped up in their cars, trapped in a scene that was terribly familiar.

  In the middle of the bridge there was a line of people—not just any people, my people. The ones I loved most in this world. Beside them stood Leonard Boyce, identifiable from afar by his aura. Beside Boyce was a pair of Hellhounds, their glowing eyes staring unblinkingly back at me with unabashed hunger.

  My feet were moving before receiving a conscious command from my brain. I paused when I heard Remy call out from behind me. I turned to see that he was pressed up against what seemed an invisible barrier; likely the same one Dr. Cross had mentioned his men were unable to penetrate.

  I kept walking toward the center of the bridge, because the barrier clearly didn’t apply to me. I was the guest of honor to this party, an anticipated and welcome arrival.

  As I drew closer, the rain slowed, as if the magical barrier that was keeping everyone else out was also somehow stifling the downpour. With my approach, the Hellhounds shifted on their paws, low growls emitting from their thick throats and their lips pulling back to reveal flesh-shredding teeth.

  The whole gang was here. Thomas, Sam, Matt, Raven, and Caleb. All of them bound by thick, black bands that appeared to have the consistency of smoke, but clearly were much more impermeable. These black bands were wound about their hands, their waists and ankles, and snaked through their mouths like magical gags. We were in our own little world here, our own little bubble. Even the ghosts that had been haunting me since the beginning of this wretched Curse were left behind the barrier with the others.

  “You came,” Boyce said. His stark-white hair was lying atop his head in wet patches. Electricity sparked between his fingers as he raised his hands into the air, looking at me with murderous glee in his eyes.

  ***

  “Of course I came,” I said, having to swallow back another round of coughs in order to get the words out. “Let them go and let’s settle this. They have nothing to do with any of it.”

  “They have everything to do with this!” Boyce roared so abruptly that I actually took a step back. His jowls jiggled as he did so, and spittle flew from his lips. The effort it took to calm himself was evident.

  “It took me some time to pick out all the ones closest to you,” he continued, and spread his hands as if in display, “but I think I did a decent job of rounding them all up. Tell me, am I missing anyone?”

  “You can end this thing now,” I said in a last ditch effort. “Let them go and end it.”

  Boyce looked at me as though I was the one who was insane.

  “Do you know what I traded to orchestrate this whole thing?” he asked. “Do you know what I sacrificed to make sure you get what’s coming to you?”

  “You traded your soul. Not the most ingenious move on your part.”

  The electricity sparking between Boyce’s fingers increased in intensity, and lightning flashed in the whites of his eyes. Around us, the world beyond the magical barrier blocking the bridge ceased to matter. There was only me, this man who felt I’d wronged him, and the people he was willing to sacrifice in the name of my suffering.

  “What good is a soul when it has lost the ones it loves more than anything?” Boyce asked. “I’ve been dead inside from the moment I watched that Blue Beast smash my family into pancakes! Hell will only be a reprieve from the hell I’ve lived here without them. Now you’ll watch as everything you love is destroyed before you.”

  He turned toward my little group of loved ones, the lightning sparking from his fingers flickering brighter still, as bright as the madness swirling through his aura. I reached into my jacket and removed my magical staff, whispering the incantation that made the weapon grow to its full size. Above us, black clouds dominated the sky, the angry heavens frighteningly visible in the darkness that still plagued the city.

  “I can’t allow you to hurt them,” I said. “I won’t allow it.”

  “Ah, there she is!” Boyce cried. “Grant City’s favorite masked hero! Come to kill the man whose family she already finished off! We should praise her name in the streets!”

  I spat some blood onto the pavement, adjusted my stance, and readied myself for what was to come. Leonard Boyce finally ceased his chattering and charged himself up with the power for which he’d traded his eternal soul.

  His right hand shot out toward me, and from the end of it a wicked bolt of lightning struck the spot where I’d been standing only moments ago. Clearly surprised at my swift action, he fired off another bolt. Again, this met empty space and continued on past me, through the magical barrier on the bridge and onto the cliff that led down to the bay, to finally strike a tree that was growing there. As the bolt hit the tree’s thick trunk there was a terrific cracking sound. The robust top half of the tree came crashing down, like the head of a man beneath a scaffold. Smoke rose into the air and the smell of burning timber floated on the breeze.

  “You’re fast,” said Boyce. “Let’s see if you’re fast enough.”

  He raised his hands high into the air, the stark white hair on his head standing up in every direction. Above him, the heavens lit up in an angry orchestra of dazzling light and growling rumbles. The bridge atop which our little group was standing quivered with the amount of energy being drawn to a single spot. Somehow, without needing to test the theory, I knew that being struck by a bolt of lightning from Boyce’s fingertips would not be an event I could walk away from.

  With the amount of power he was now wielding, bei
ng struck again now would kill me.

  I rolled to the side to avoid another blast, the hair on my neck standing up with the closeness of the electricity, like something alive and crawling over my skin. Behind us, witness to the final battle between Boyce and I, were Sam, Thomas, Matt, Raven, and Caleb. Still bound by the black magic straps, their eyes were wide and pleading and all of their auras were doused in fear.

  All of them, save for Thomas, who was standing as still as a snake poised to strike. His hazel eyes were narrowed, and his dark hair was black under the moonlight, his skin glistening with the fallen rain. His aura was filled with anticipation, determination, and something else that I thought just might be faith.

  Faith in me, I thought.

  Faith that was dreadfully misplaced.

  CHAPTER 32

  The staff was magical, and therefore capable of breaking magical bonds if I could just get close enough. This task was easier said than done—in fact, felt Herculean in nature at the moment. Worse than the pain my body was feeling from both the beatings it had undergone recently and the Demon’s Curse it was currently under, was my unreliable vision.

  Though the magical barrier was working in a dome-like fashion to keep people off the bridge and the majority of the rain out, it was still a chore to see in the dark while a crazy guy flashed lightning at me like brilliant clicks of a deadly camera, and a fine mist of fog held the atmosphere.

  In short, the conditions were less than optimal for a full on battle with a friggin’ white-haired Raiden from Mortal Kombat. Any moment now, I was almost sure the words FINISH HIM would float in the air between us.

  I needed to focus so I could disable Boyce, but how could I do that if I couldn’t even get close to him? So far, I’d done nothing but manage to evade his attacks, and his last shot had been way too close for comfort. I was out of breath and exhausted, and God help me, but part of me just wanted to give up.

  I wanted it all to be over.

  It was the steady, comforting pulse of Thomas’s aura that I hung onto, for there were no other grips that might provide stabilization. I’m not too proud to admit that I was crumbling under all the pressure, that I was scared and tired, sad and through. It seemed to me that I’d spent most all of my life fighting in one capacity or another, one trial and then the next, and I was just done.