by Phil Maxey
Contents
Title page
Copyright
Disclaimer
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Thank you
DESCENT
Sebastian Hell-Lock Book 1
by
P.M. Cole
Copyright © 2020 by Philip Maxey
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
First Printing, 2020.
http://pmcoleauthor.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is purely coincidental.
CHAPTER ONE
Date: Now.
Location: A forgotten part of New York City.
I looked at the remains of the rat and still felt hungry. How many of the little bastards does it take to satisfy a vampire I wondered. I swigged on the small glass bottle of bourbon, hoping the warm sensation would swamp my senses even further and threw it into the group of plastic bags against the wall of the alley.
A carton of chow mien fell out and scattered across the rain soaked concrete. From the stench, only two nights old. Things were looking up.
I went to reach for it when screams came from the opposite end of the narrow space. Ignoring the pleas I stood up and staggered across to the cardboard container and picked it up. I could hear the accelerated heart rate of three individuals about fifty feet away. Two men and a young woman. Telling the age and gender from the speed of blood flow was a little skill that I had picked up over the previous few months. One of the men was looking at me.
Shit.
“He’s just a drunk bum, he probably don’t even know we’re here,” said the smaller asshole.
I poked around in the strings of pasta seeing if there were any mushrooms. I love mushrooms. I grabbed a heap and started chewing, then promptly spat them all out. They tasted like… nothing, another ‘gift’ from my—
The air pressure changed. Something large and heavy was traveling at roughly sixty miles per hour at my head, giving me a tenth of a second to stop it? I was never good at math, that was my father’s game.
My hand flicked up and grabbed the metal pipe, stopping it dead. The asshole attached to it howled in pain, then tried to free his weapon. I looked at him and raised my eyebrows.
“Was I bothering you?” I pulled the pipe from his grip and flung it to the side in one movement. It promptly lodged itself in the wall.
The girl was screaming again. Asshole number one was trying to pull her clothes from her. I leaned to the side so I could be seen around the man mountain as he was pulling his arm back to throw a haymaker.
I made eye contact with the blonde and pointed between my legs. “Knee him there…” I shouted, then ducked as the man threw his clenched fist forward then tripped and fell, rolling completely over the top of me and landing awkwardly on the other side.
I smiled as the blonde girl, student by the look of her ID moved swiftly forward, held the other man by his arm and planted her knee where instructed. I winced on seeing the impact. No man likes to see that, but when she looked back at me I nodded. She turned and ran back out to horns and neon lights.
The big guy was getting back to his feet. I sighed. “Can you just leave me to my…”
He charged forward, almost connecting with my back but of course missing and with a little push careened into a mound of plastic containers. Then I heard it. A click about ten feet away.
“Kung fu eh?” said the forty something thug half my size. A barrel wavered in my direction.
I looked at the man-kid. “Pick up your dad over there and get the hell out of my alley.”
“No one’s gonna miss a bum,” he said.
The artery on the side of his neck throbbed. A beat that I desperately wanted to dance to. I went to dive forward, when the air grew cooler. There was something behind me and whites of the small guy’s eyes confirmed it. I swung around.
Nothing…
“Noo… no!”
I turned back just in time to see a shadow sweep forward, grab the guy as if he was a rag doll then cover him in a dark cape.
I stepped back.
The other guy watched, then turned and ran for his life.
The bloodless body fell to the ground and the thing responsible flicked its hood back.
“You!” I shouted at the woman who ruined my life.
CHAPTER TWO
Date: Then (Three months ago).
Location: Monaco. Twenty feet under the grand Hotel. Roulette table fifteen to be precise.
It had been a boring night. I had spent the last two hours trying to lose money to make it interesting, but instead I was fifty thousand up. That was my life, always up despite my best efforts to send things in the opposite direction. I spent my teens stealing, even though I had a bank balance greater than most’s annual incomes, was given a Porsche at fifteen which I wrecked on the specialist track built for me, then as if I didn’t have enough money, inherited my parents’ Dow Jones company at the age of eighteen due to their untimely passing. When you don’t have to work for anything, life gets uninteresting real quick.
I looked at the dealer. She had been flirting with me for the past hour, leaning back so her tight shirt left an imprint on my mind. “All of it on black,” I said. Fifty-fifty chance of losing all of it.
The old guy next to me, who had been on a losing streak since I came to the table almost choked on his whiskey and ice.
“You sure you want to do that,” came a velvety voice from behind me.
I didn’t bother turning around. No doubt another twenty something trying to sniff out the hedge fund guys. “Yup.” I looked at the dealer and nodded. She grabbed the plastic coins with the chip rake and slid them to the appropriate square, then spun the wheel.
I felt a presence to my right and despite the wheel slowing was more curious who was wearing the apple blossom perfume. A brunette, with hair draped across one shoulder and eyes that momentarily made me forget where I was smiled back at me.
“And the winner is black!” said the dealer.
I frowned. “Fuck.” I looked at the young woman behind the table, clearly disturbed by the competition to my side. “Give half of it to this guy—” I gestured to the old man, who choked again. “— and you can keep the rest.”
Her lower lip dropped. “Err… it’s against the rules.”
“Then give it to charity, whatever you want.”
She looked at the chips while I turned back to who I was really interested in, but she was gone. I looked across the fru
strated desperation of those in the large room, but none of the flushed faces were hers.
Great. Another night of euro porn it is then.
“Hey, if you want, when I get off I can come back to your—”
I walked away from the table, letting the dealer’s proposition meld with the shouts, screams and anguished howls around the other tables and made my way to the exit. The doorman handed me my blazer, which I slung over one shoulder.
“Do you wish me to have the Lamborghini called to the front, sir?”
I shook my head. “I think I’ll take a walk.”
After climbing two sets of marble stairs I stepped out into the eighty-seven degree summer heat of the French Mediterranean coastline and looked at the twinkling lights of the harbor. Parties were raging on the multi-million dollar yachts, while catwalk models swung their hips to constant beats. One waved to me. I returned the gesture but I had no intention of joining them. Instead I just wanted to take in the night and enjoy the last few minutes of my twenties. I looked at my grandfather’s Swiss made watch. 12:03 a.m.
“Shit. Too late.” I took a moment to see if I felt any different. I didn’t. “So this is what it feels like to be old,” I said under my breath. “The same.” Even being old was boring.
I turned back to the sidewalk. A large man blocked the light from the street lamp. I went to move around him, but he took a step in the same direction.
“Give me the watch!” he growled.
“Seriously?”
A blade glistened in his right hand. “And any cash you got on you!”
“It’s my birthday. I’m meant to get things, not have them taken from me.” I hoped humor would lighten the moment, but when I felt the burning sensation in my stomach I knew I had failed. I looked down at the growing red patch on my peach colored shirt. Then back to the man with the stubbly chin and boxer’s nose. “You stabbed me!”
The idea was straight out of a tabloid. ‘Billionaire heir to the Hell-Lock fortune, dies on his thirtieth birthday!’
He grabbed my wrist as I collapsed to one knee. I went to shout for help, but instead blood filled my mouth and exploded across the sidewalk including my would be murderer. Somewhere nearby I heard a thud on the smooth slabs and he pulled back. As he fled back into the shadows I completed my journey to the ground and laid looking up at the few stars visible, trying to work out what constellation they belonged too. I didn’t want to die, but equally I wasn’t that bothered about living.
New pain.
This was worse, much worse. An explosion of needles each with fiery tips were digging into my skin then muscle, spreading from my neck, across my shoulders and into my spine, then higher into my mind. I looked up at a hooded figure. At first I thought my attacker had returned to finish the job but then a scent of apple wafted to my nose mingling with the metallic odor emanating from my shirt. With all the effort I could muster, I turned my head slightly to see the same beauty from ten minutes earlier. Emerald green eyes sparkled in the night.
“You…”
CHAPTER THREE
I opened my eyes to a crab walking across my hand. Above, seagulls screeched and the sound of an ocean came from somewhere behind me. A wave splashed over the lower half, jolting my brain into more activity and I spat out the sand that was lodged in my teeth.
Where… Stabbed…
I scrambled, pivoting in the sand and sat up, then looked down at my lower half. The red stain had mostly dried. I pulled my shirt up not really wanting to see what was below, and sat there confused. I smeared my rough hands across my toned stomach, then turned and looked around my waist. There wasn’t a wound in sight.
Did I dream it?
I’m sure I was sober when I left the casino, but maybe I wandered into a bar and downed too many cocktails. Wouldn’t be the first time and it was my birthday after all.
Yeah, had to be it.
I looked at my wrist to check the time, when a shudder moved through me and I remembered the sensation of a large hand trying to rip my grandfather’s watch away. Obviously that never happened as the ornate time piece was still there. I examined it. Part of the leather was scuffed but apart from that it looked the same. It had been in the family generations. One of the few material things I valued.
My skin felt warm. I tried to look up but the sun was especially bright, so instead I squinted at the sea. Mist was rolling across the waves outside the harbor.
A growling came from a few feet away. I looked to my right immediately regretting the movement from my stiff neck. A small set of canines and a wet nose looked back at me. A dog which would fit into most handbags was scrunching its face up, its paws sweeping sand away as if it was about to charge.
“Easy…”
What…
I coughed and tried to talk again. The first attempt sounding like someone else. “Hey you…” More coughing and attempting to reclaim my actual voice. The dog’s head tilted to one side. “Ah… grrr…. Why the hell do I sound different…” The tiny animal looked just as confused as I was. I touched my throat, which felt swollen and when my hand reached the side, sore. I looked at my fingertips as flakes of blood fell from them into the seaweed I was sitting on.
One of the crabs must have bitten me. I sensed a faint beating upon the sand combined with heavy breathing.
“Cream! Get away from that unfortunate man!” said an elderly woman trekking across the beach higher up.
The fact that she saw me as unfortunate I completely missed as I felt sorry for the dog being called ‘cream.’
The small creature turned and scampered away, making hard work of the slope.
I coughed again and got to my feet, feeling a little dizzy, then in a moment of clarity plunged my hand into my pants pocket and sighed. My wallet was just as missing as my blazer.
My head throbbed as sounds rushed in. Horns, angry voices and the incessant sounds of the birds above were threatening to overwhelm my thoughts. I turned and followed the paw prints up the beach.
I need a drink to cure this hangover.
That usually worked, and I had plenty of the good stuff back at my penthouse suite. I looked up at the concrete blocks made up of twenty or more floors looming over the beach, then spotted the one that was home from home.
Not far.
That was good as I felt as if I had been run over by a truck. I walked past the beach umbrellas being erected and up to the road. A gleaming red sports car roared past, with a ten year younger version of myself at the wheel.
“Asshole,” I murmured, still trying to clear my throat.
I wondered if I should trouble the local police about the wallet, or maybe try and find it myself. Flash some more money around, throw some blood in the water, let the sharks find it for me. Might make for a more interesting birthday than usual.
I jogged across the road, up a wide set of steps and past the doorman, who for some reason ignored my glance. The cool lobby felt like sanctuary as I walked up to the counter, and the concierge behind it. His face reflected my appearance.
“Hey Frank.” I coughed to try and clear whatever it was that had lowered my voice half an octave.
“Can I help you?” he said in a French accent.
Hmm, not even a ‘sir.’
I took a step back and opened my arms. “Despite how I look, I wasn’t out partying last night… at least I don’t think I was. Anyway, someone stole my stuff. Wallet’s gone.”
The sinewy man with the pencil-thin mustache nodded. “That is most unfortunate for you, but how is that any of the Grand hotel’s business?”
“Frank… It’s me Sebastian… Sebastian Hell-Lock…”
Frank’s expression remained resolute. “You are not Mr. Hell-Lock, although you do appear to be wearing a similar umm attire to when I last saw him… Anyway I am not able to help you so please leave.”
“Uh? Frank?”
I felt a weight on my shoulder and instinctively flicked my hand around to remove it. Arnold the doorman who also doub
led as a security guard flew across the room, landing on the plush white sofa twelve feet away.
“What the f…” I turned back to Frank. “I didn’t mean too…” He was on the phone. “You’re calling the police? Great, I really do need—” I caught my reflection in a metal plaque on the wall, proudly announcing they had won ‘Hotel of the year.’ The view was slightly distorted but there was no doubting it, a stranger was looking back at me.
I stared in horror. “I… was attacked by a plastic surgeon,” I said with no real strength. I threw my hands up to feel a nose, cheeks and chin that belonged to someone else.
Frank’s voice grew hushed and he turned away, but I could hear all of his comments clearly, including the French words for ‘insane’ and ‘drugs.’ More noises were now imposing themselves on my senses. Repeated thuds and voices. I spun around expecting to see a room full of people except the only occupants were the concierge and doorman rubbing his shoulder.
“What the hell is happening to me…” I staggered forward holding onto the counter, while Frank took a step back. He had a long metal pole in his hand, ready to strike if I made it closer. “Look, this is serious. Something has happened to me, my face. I’m not me.” As I fought with the sensations that were having a party in my brain, I knew how crazy I was sounding. I leaned forward and grabbed the small flask of whiskey he kept hidden for the quiet moments. He went to hit me, but I moved so quick and had the cap unscrewed and was taking a mouthful before he even knew my intention.
“How you know that was there?” enquired Frank, bemused. Before I could reply he continued. “It does not matter, the police are on their way. I suggest you leave before they arrive!”
The buzzing of people started to quieten as the golden liquid settled in my stomach. I briefly turned around. Arnold had an onyx statue in his hand, but was keeping his distance. “Frank, it’s Sebastian. I have the penthouse. The same one I have had since my eighteenth birthday, when my father Michael Hell-Lock rented it from the owner for the next sixty years. If I’m not… me, how would I know that?”
