Seed of Sin (An Urban Fantasy Horror): The Edge of Reflection Book 3

by Carver Pike

  They ran, dodging fire arrows and fallen gypsies. When they reached the spot where they’d parked the wagons, they found one of them on fire and the other missing. All of their belongings were gone. Wherever their journey led, they’d be doing it on foot.

  Gabe’s heart thundered in his chest. Would this journey be as doomed as his last? He couldn’t imagine losing the friends he had now. They were his family.

  Everything was silent around him. He stared out at the fighting all around, but it was as if he were in a dream. Nothing seemed real.

  “Gabe!” Lisa yelled.

  He heard her, but it sounded muffled, as if she were speaking to him under water. All he saw was fire, everywhere, and smoke.

  “Gabe!” Lisa yelled again.

  It wasn’t until she slapped him across the face that Gabe finally snapped back to reality.

  “Look!” She pointed toward the tree line.

  There on the hill, in front of the trees, the Wraithen army sat, preparing to attack. The gypsies were firing arrows and bullets in their direction, but they were too far away to be hit with anything really threatening.

  ***

  At the treeline, Traven scanned the burning camp in front of him. He hadn’t expected to come across a gypsy camp. He’d fought gypsies before and knew of their ferocity, their never-give-up spirit. He’d broken that spirit before, though, and planned to do it again.

  The Shriek Kava had attacked on their own, following their previous orders of “attack anything moving.” If given the choice, Traven would have scoped out the camp first to see if it were worth attacking, but he’d been plunged into this war whether he liked it or not.

  Through the binoculars he surveyed the damage done by his pets. They’d destroyed everything. Next time he’d have to keep this attack in mind and make sure he kept them on a tighter leash.

  At least it meant less fighting for his troops. The more gypsies the Kavas killed, the better. As he scanned the body-riddled ground, his sight settled on Gabe and his band.

  “Cutter,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “You see him?” Growler asked.

  Traven smiled. This would be sweet. He’d always hated Cutter, but the boss had liked the man. Finally, when Cutter sold diseased slaves to Colossus that led to the destruction of half the stock, the boss finally saw Cutter for the piece of shit he was, and Traven knew he’d get the chance to kill the son of a bitch. But he didn’t get that chance. Instead, the boss sent Cloak, who’d apparently botched the mission. Now it was his time to shine and he was going to enjoy splitting Cutter in two.

  “He’s there,” Traven informed Growler, “and the babies must be with him.”

  “Shall we give the order?” Growler asked.

  Traven checked to see how many of his Shriek Kavas were still alive. He counted only three. Sending his men in would mean they’d fall prey to the remaining three beasts, but with so few of them on the battle field, it was a chance he was willing to take.

  “Yes, give the order,” Traven said.

  Growler smiled and turned to the rest of the army lined up behind them.

  “Attack!” he screamed.

  ***

  Hawks was convinced they should high-tail it out of there and even more so when he saw the road warriors barreling right for them. Then he noticed her, the warrior dancer, the one he’d been infatuated with, hunched down behind a smashed up car, using the hood as a shield as she rose, fired an arrow, and then ducked back down, over and over again with machine-like consistency. She was bad ass, and an excellent shot, picking off members of the Wraithen army one by one.

  Nearby, Tact was holding off several soldiers on his own. Tact had lost one of his hunting knives, but wielded the other with animal-like rage, taking down a soldier on horseback with ease. As Hawks watched the brute in battle, in awe at his tenacity, Tact wiped the blood from his knife onto his pants, turned toward Hawks, and gave him a thumbs-up.

  “Sorry this is taking so long, Groucho!” he yelled. “Be with ya in a sec!”

  Hawks shook his head in disbelief, then stood stunned as a Shriek Kava came barreling from around one of the fiery tents straight at the mysterious, arrow-flinging warrior. The Shriek Kava dodged left and right, avoiding each of the arrows the woman sent its way.

  Hawks ran.

  She pulled an arrow, set it, and was about to release when the Shriek Kava pounced, leaping through the air, right at her.

  Hawks jumped at the same time the beast did. He met the monster in midair, slamming his shoulder into its side, like a football open field tackle. With both hands gripping the handle of his knife, he shoved the blade upward into the Shriek Kava’s belly. They fell to the ground and the heavy beast pinned him down. Hawks roared as he rolled it over, yanked his knife out, and shoved it in again. Hawks rested against the fur of the dead animal and closed his eyes for a moment. He opened his eyes to find her standing over him.

  “You risked your life for me,” she said. “Thank you. My name is Ayana.”

  “I’m Hawks. I would do it a million times,” he said. “I don’t know you, but I want to…and I couldn’t bear to see anything happen to you.”

  He stood and took her by the hand. Her eyes locked on his and Hawks could tell she was trying to read him.

  “Come with us,” he added.

  “I belong here,” Ayana said, a sad tone in her voice.

  “No, you belong with me,” Hawks replied. “I don’t know how, but I feel it.”

  She didn’t respond. She only smiled, her fangs poking out, touching her bottom lip.

  ***

  Lisa and Emma hid behind a battered jeep frame and watched Sasha on the battlefield. Seeing him fight was like witnessing a choreographed dance. The sashes floated through the air and twirled around like wisps of magic. Each cut was fantastic. He moved with such grace and fluidity. His face was calm, like an athlete before a competition instead of berserk warrior fighting for his life. Lisa thought it seemed like a game to him, a game he couldn’t lose.

  “He is beautiful when he fights,” Emma said. “That was what attracted me to him in the first place. He’s a smug, cocky asshole most of the time, but when he dances with his swords it’s like sitting next to a calm river, watching the water move around the rocks. If it weren’t for all the blood, it would be almost lovely.”

  With no warning at all, Emma pulled a small dagger from somewhere in her clothes, and stabbed behind Lisa, sticking her blade into the neck of a Wraithen soldier. He fell to the ground, choking on his blood.

  Emma winced and wiped the blade and her hand on the ground. The blood didn’t come off right away so she used her pants.

  “Dammit,” she swore under her breath before looking up at Lisa. “What? I said Sasha is a graceful dancer. Well,I dance too.”

  ***

  Gabe and Bronc were busy shooting at the attacking soldiers.

  “We must go,” Bronc said.

  “I don’t feel right leaving these people,” Gabe argued.

  “Does not matter,” Bronc said. “We no leave home to fight with gypsies. Only babies matter. Trust me, brother. Gypsies take care of selves.”

  “Bronc’s right,” Emma agreed as she moved to her husband’s side, with Lisa right beside her.

  She forced a smile and wiped tears from her eyes.

  “In many ways, these are my people. But right now, the babies are all that matters,” she added.

  Gabe turned to look at Lisa, who scrunched up her face and nodded. She was right. They all were. They needed to run, again.

  Sasha made his way over to Gabe and the others.

  “I don’t know this army,” he said, “but they fight with great ferocity and are willing to die. You should get the babies out of here. We will hold them off as long as we can. Should buy you some time.”

  “Yes, take them and go,” Tact agreed.

  “Tact, you too,” Sasha said. “Go. Get them out of here. Protect the babies.”

  Tact sho
ok his head at his leader.

  “I’m not leaving you. We can win this fight. We always do,” he said.

  “Of course we will,” Sasha assured him. “Without you. Hurry, they’re after the babies. If this army wants them so bad, they must be worth something.”

  Tact hesitated but then looked over and saw the rest of the army headed their way. He nodded his head and hugged Sasha.

  “I will see you soon, brother,” Sasha announced. “Now, I must go and dance with these demons. Ha!”

  He ran back into the battle.

  ***

  Ayana started to follow Sasha when Hawks grabbed her arm and spun her back around to face him.

  “Come with me!” he yelled.

  “These people are my family,” she said.

  Hawks bit his lip. He understood but he didn’t want to let her go. He knew that if he were in this same situation, he wouldn’t leave his people, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was the pain in his gut that told him to hold on to her.

  As she turned to leave, he spun her around once more, and grabbed the back of her head. He yanked her into his embrace and kissed her hard. It was rougher than he’d planned, but they were in the heat of battle, and he hungered for her. She squealed under her breath and then pulled away. She stared at him with her mouth open, fangs revealed. She didn’t say a word. She raised her eyebrows and ran her tongue over one of her fangs.

  “I needed to do that,” Hawks said. “In case I never see you again.”

  He left her and ran after his friends. When he stopped to look back at her one more time, he saw her glance at Sasha, who nodded his head and gestured with a wave of his hand for her to go. She nodded, then turned back to Hawks, smiled, and ran after him.

  ***

  Traven led his small force of eight men, including himself and Growler, toward a group of gypsies. One man stood off to the side, looking colorful and calm, and Traven could only assume he was the leader of these people.

  “Sasha, go!” the man on stilts yelled as he turned his attention toward Traven.

  The leader called Sasha only laughed and walked forward, ready to fight. Traven liked the man instantly. A leader who will not leave his people, even when all hope is lost, is a real man, even if he dresses like a woman.

  “Makita!” Sasha yelled. “Your assistance, my friend?”

  An athletically built Asian man, wearing an acrobat’s jump suit, looked up from where he was beating a fallen soldier with a tall staff. Makita hopped twice into the air as if limbering up, then charged.

  It wasn’t the smartest thing to do, Traven thought, but he was brave, that was for sure. Only thirty feet from he and his men, the short Asian man called Makita shoved one end of his staff down into the ground and pole vaulted, launching himself high into the air.

  “Growler, catch him!” Traven ordered as Makita sailed through the sky with his knees raised up, like a leaping tree frog.

  With both hands the flying man reached to the toes of his boots and pulled out two daggers. Traven watched as Growler yanked a strand of razor wire from his satchel and stretched it out as Makita was about to land on him. He wrapped it around Makita’s neck at the same time the little warrior planted both daggers into Growler’s shoulders. Both men fell from the horse and onto the ground.

  “Hmm,” Traven thought aloud. “That didn’t go down exactly as I wanted.”

  Makita died choking on his own blood while Growler lived long enough to climb to his knees. Bleeding from both shoulders, the scent of Growler’s blood drew the Shriek Kava his way. As one of the beasts raced around the corner of the burning purple tent, Traven saw Growler’s eyes grow wide with terror, and he found it ironic that what brought the man so much joy was about to be unleashed on him. Traven considered saving him, but knew he’d bleed out and die even if he did, so why deny the beast its snack?

  “Wait! Halt!” Growler cried out just before the beast chomped down on his face.

  Traven looked over at Sasha, who was smiling. The pretty man passed him a wink.

  Traven climbed down from his horse to face his colorful opponent, who was approaching with his strange swords held out at his sides.

  “What a pretty man you are, like a rainbow of poor fortune,” Traven said. “Your colors will make interesting puddles on the ground.”

  “You dare attack the gypsies?” Sasha asked.

  Traven cackled a sinister laugh and held his free hand out, pointing at the burning tent to the left of them.

  “Attack? I’d say I decimated the gypsies.”

  Sasha didn’t respond, and Traven liked him even more. He let his swords do the talking. He spun around with them and started his next dance, inviting Traven to join him.

  The Wraithen leader was fast and easily raised his sword up to block Sasha’s. They slid backward and forward across the gravel, kicking up dust as they dodged and spun. Steel collided again and again in a shower of sparks. Traven attacked, but Sasha fluidly avoided. Then Sasha chopped downward with both swords, but Traven raised his long sword up above his head to block Sasha’s blades.

  In a good fight, one loses sense of time. To try and recount every move is nearly impossible as it all seems to happen at once, and this was the situation Traven found himself in. Somehow, at some point, the two men held a conversation amidst the clanging of swords and sparks flying off metal.

  “Why do you protect the babies?” Traven asked. “What can they possibly mean to you?”

  “Has nothing to do with protecting them!” Sasha yelled.

  They both swung their swords around and smashed them together.

  “Then why do you fight?” Traven asked.

  “For the slaves of Colossus!” Sasha replied.

  “They’re nothing!” Traven yelled.

  Sasha spun and ducked, cutting Traven’s thigh. Traven slid back and looked down at his leg. Surprisingly, it hurt very little. He felt more anger than pain. It was astonishing. It should have hurt like hell.

  “I was a slave,” Sasha said calmly.

  “Then you die a slave’s death,” Traven growled as he raised his sword.

  Sasha met him, blade for blade, sparks in the air, but as their swords collided, Sasha suddenly gasped, and Traven saw that three crossbow bolts had sunk into the colorful man’s side.

  “The fuck?” Traven asked, confused.

  Sasha fell to the ground, dropping one of his swords and clutching his side. Traven angrily turned and located the soldier with the crossbow. He jumped and swung his sword out to the side, catching his neck. The soldier looked shocked as his throat split open and his blood spilled out.

  “Did I ask for your help?” Traven asked. “We were having a great battle!”

  Explosions sounded off around them, and the world was covered in smoke. He brought his hand to his eyes, and when the smoke finally cleared, Sasha was gone. Traven swatted an open hand at the smoke-filled air.

  “Where is he?” he asked.

  “I can’t see anything,” one of his soldiers replied.

  The smoke dissipated and Traven was left alone with his soldiers. The Shriek Kavas were all dead. Any gypsy that hadn’t already been taken captive had fled.

  “Tell me someone killed Cutter and got the babies!” Traven yelled.

  His soldiers stood silent. Gabe and his gang were long gone.

  Chapter 10 Darkness from Within

  Ripples formed across the water as Haylay quietly raised his head up out of the river. Breathing through his nose, trying to make as little noise as possible, he looked back to see Tania struggling to keep her head above water.

  It was clear from her downturned lips and squinted eyes that she was fighting through much more than simple fatigue. The cramps were still plaguing her. Treading water in the river was no place to lend her a hand, so Haylay scanned the terrain around them.

  Both riverbanks were clear, as were the cliffs above. Somehow, they’d managed to float far enough away and the Shriek Kavas had lost their sc
ent.

  Haylay swam to shore and grabbed a vine that was dangling from the elevated ground above. He reached a hand out to Tania and helped her make her way to the vines.

  “I don’t think I can go any farther,” she complained.

  Haylay scanned the quiet darkness.

  “Yeah, I think we done swam far enough. We oughtta be safe.”

  He helped Tania navigate the vines and move to shallower water. Finally, they reached a low dip in the shoreline, low enough for Haylay to pull himself up out of the water. Assisting Tania with the climb was exhausting. She was completely out of steam and unable to put even an ounce of strength into it, leaving Haylay to do all the work.