by Al K. Line
We watched the blood pool around his leg for a moment before he coughed up dark lumps of jelly and died.
I removed my hat and brushed her down then settled Grace back into place. I did as best I could to clean myself up, Vicky patting my back and shoulders to help, and then when I was as clean as I'd ever be without a change of clothes and a nice long shower, I said, "Help me drag him over there." Nodding toward the wall, I grabbed one of The Accountant's arms. Vicky took the other, studiously ignoring the mangled bodies.
Time to get answers.
Out From the Darkness
It was with inordinate thanks that we emerged from the gloom of the icy building into bright late afternoon sunshine. I lifted my head to the lowering sun and let its warmth soak through my skin and sear away the bad deeds imprinted on my eyes. I watched floaters trace across the inside of my eyelids, a strange orange glow from the sun brightening my world where my head and heart were full of darkness.
The Accountant was still inside, what was left of him. He'd live, but it would take many months for him to recover, and he certainly wouldn't be writing anything in his books for a long time.
Sometimes I'm not a nice guy.
I opened my eyes and stared around at the scrub before turning back to the building, amazed the world was still here, that it was bright and glorious and birds were singing when such horrors had just taken place in the chilly half-light. The Hat was a different person in that dark room filled with the raw emotions of so many men fighting each other, hatred etched into the framework of the building like two fingers given to places of worship. Yet this was a place of worship too, devoted to violence and the base nature we all have inside.
And, for my sins, I'd added some of my own cruelty to the vibrations of the place, making it darker and angrier, crueler and more inhumane than it had been before we arrived.
Vicky stood beside me, mute, looking scared and apprehensive. She'd stayed and watched, even though I told her not to, that it was a terrible idea. I didn't want her to witness my cruelty, knew it would change how she saw me forever. She insisted, said she could handle it, even knowing what I had in mind wouldn't be pretty. I looked at her, my eyes still hard, face impassive, but she cast her eyes downward and fiddled with her hands.
"It's okay," she whispered, smiling weakly.
"No, it's not. I do bad things, Vicky."
"Maybe, but we got the answers we needed." She shuddered at the thought of what I'd done, but there was a hardness in her too, an acceptance of it all. That, more than anything, broke my heart. Was nobody pure? Was there nobody that saw how wrong this all was? That what I'd done, torture, had no excuse, no vindication? It was inexcusable and it's all very well saying it was for the greater good, that a cruel man was now out of action and we had the information we needed, but that didn't cut it. The ends don't always justify the means.
We were as bad as they were, maybe worse. For we knew, knew in our hearts that what we did, what I did and she observed wasn't who we were, that we hated it, knew it was wrong and did it anyway. That made us worse than them for at least the truly cruel, or those that absolutely don't care, are merely following their natures. When I acted this way it tore through me, made my soul ache and weep, yet still I refused to budge from the path I'd chosen.
Well, it was done, and I had my answers. I knew where the real fights took place, and if we were going to find Avisha it would be at such a place or at least the men running these things would know of her whereabouts. Actually one man, and it may not have been easy to find him but he never missed these full moon fights, the biggest and baddest of the month.
The Fat Man.
Vicky shook almost uncontrollably now, and it was only then I realized she was still in her underwear. "Get dressed. You brought a change of clothes, right?"
Vicky glanced down at her stained body, her flesh covered in goosebumps. "Oh, I'm dirty." She busied herself at the car in a daze while I went back in to get her phone and even her ruined clothes—you don't leave such obvious clues behind, and knowing Vicky she'd have her name written on the labels.
I didn't glance at The Accountant, and he didn't call out, not that he could.
Calm Before the Storm
We drove to a generic restaurant chain whose name eludes me—such things have come and gone over the years, thank God—and sat eating uninspiring burgers from chemical-laden paper and sipped on drinks that made my head swim and my leg twitch.
Neither of us said more than a few words. Too much had happened since we came north, none of it good. The fight had been one thing, watching shifters come close to tearing each other apart; Vicky had been entranced by the violence. But when it got up close and personal, when I made The Accountant talk, that was different. That was real.
Now we were both as flat as the lettuce in our burgers, me almost out of magic, Vicky almost asleep and with too many things to worry about. She had to consider her own part in all of this, and then there were the marital problems back home, a home that felt an awful long way away right now.
There was no turning back now though. I'd see this through to the end no matter what. Vicky too. Maybe this was why we were so drawn to each other, this need to push things, to carry on even when the odds and even life itself were against us. Yeah, there was something wrong with us both, no doubt about it.
It was with a heavy cloud hanging over us that we left the restaurant, where families and friends sat around the tables ignoring each other and staring at their gadgets. We walked the city for a while, finding ourselves at a canal. We sat on a bench and watched as the sky darkened and the moon rose. Full moon, bright and powerful, casting a frosty light over the dirty water, highlighting the ripples as rats swam past or scampered in the mud, picking through the detritus of the city.
The moon reflected in a broken orb on the water, an omen of the night to come. This would be when the action was at its peak, when shifters were strongest and therianthropes could make the monthly change if they so wished or events conspired to release the hidden animal within. I knew some of them found the urges almost impossible to resist, while others could either choose to change or not, the pull of the moon hardly noticeable but powering them to extraordinary things if they so chose. Others never found out what they were until faced with extreme circumstances, and I wondered how many there were who never had to discover they had such a creature inside.
Would Ivan right now be running wild somewhere, the animal unfettered? Or would it be business as usual, him dealing with the gangsters and the lowlifes, running his empire and all to help serve the spreading vampire population that grew stronger by the day?
Did it matter?
No, I was here for Ivan. To help him put his past behind him, but mainly because I owed him, and what was a man without his word? I don't mean lying if someone asks if you nicked their book of magic, I mean making a promise, when someone does something that puts you in their debt. Then it's a matter of honor and pride to do your damnedest to repay the favor. A man is nothing if he fails to try to fulfill a promise with his entire being.
I felt I was giving it my best shot, and would keep on pushing, but something inside me, or maybe it was the strange subdued atmosphere, told me that this day would not reveal itself in the way I expected. There was something off about it, something I was missing, but I'd be damned if I knew what it was.
Yet I knew, could feel it. This night would change the course of my life forever, that if I went through with what I absolutely intended to go through with I'd never be the same person again, Vicky either. We were involved in something neither of us understood. How it would play out was anyone's guess.
Only thing I was certain of? It wouldn't be good.
Total Mind Melt
Vicky was shaky, and looking worse by the minute. I seriously considered taking her to a hospital. Her tiny body looked like it was folding in on itself, as if she was shutting down or in some form of shock.
She was slick with sweat and ke
pt clenching her jaw, making the muscles bulge like a hamster with its cheeks stuffed. I parked up a few minutes walk from where the evening entertainment was to be held and we got out of the car. We were in a bad part of the city but there was no one around, not here. There were numerous abandoned factories from the days when the north was the center of so much industry. Some of the old textile factories were still untouched, stripped of machinery, the bare bones standing up well to the test of time.
Sooner or later they'd all be converted to homes, many already had been, but there were still parts of the city like this that had yet to be touched by the regeneration that swept across the nation once enterprising people or local councils realized that it was actually quite nice to live in a high-ceilinged, large space with views over the canals or rivers used by the old factories.
"What's wrong with you? Are you ill?" I asked, at a loss.
"I don't think so. I don't feel sick or anything, just odd. Do I look okay?" Vicky asked, peering at me with hope in her eyes.
"Just tired," I said, thinking it best not to mention the darkness under her eyes and the sheen across her forehead.
"My body aches, and my head hurts. Arthur, I think it was what happened with The Accountant."
"What I did, you mean?" I couldn't think about that, not now.
"No, just them attacking. I was scared, really scared. I thought maybe they were going to kill me, then I was sure they were going to kill you. It's just shock, I'll be fine."
"Shock can be very nasty," I said, knowing it could. "It can lay you up like the flu, make you act weird. You kind of run on auto and aren't even aware of what's happening half the time. You need to relax, let it pass you by."
"I can't," Vicky moaned, shaking her head. Even her ponytail seemed to have lost its usual zest for life, hanging limp rather than doing its usual jolly swishing about like it was powered by sunshine and cute puppy dogs.
"Yes, you can."
"Arthur, I can't!" Vicky put a hand to her mouth like someone would jump out at us because of the noise.
"Don't worry, nobody's here."
"How do you know?" she asked like an accusation.
"Because I'm a fucking wizard, that's why." I was getting cross and that was stupid. She was genuinely upset, or something was going on anyway. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap."
"It's okay."
I thought for a minute, cleared my mind and let ideas flow naturally, watching them to see what the best course of action was. I had my doubts, but I told myself this would work.
"Okay," I said seriously, "I'm going to show you something that will allow you to get yourself under control. Better than in control, it will shunt a little magic into your system."
"Ooh." Vicky's eyes sparkled and the old her surfaced just thinking about it.
I continued before she got carried away with visions of becoming a powerful magic user. "Don't get too excited, it won't allow you to use it, won't suddenly mean you can do spells or anything like that. But it will change you, show you the potential. Let you have a taste of how I feel, how I do what I do."
"I didn't think that was allowed. Can you really show me?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't I be able to?"
"You know, the Alliance, the Laws. Or the Code, whatever you call it."
"There's nothing saying you can't teach someone. How do you think we learn?"
"But you said you weren't allowed to show me magic, how to access the Quiet Place," she said squinting at me suspiciously.
"I did? Oh, er, um, must have meant something else." Damn, there were so many things I'd said to Vicky over the years to get her off my case, it was impossible to keep track. I'd made up countless Laws so she'd stop pestering me; a guy couldn't keep all that straight.
"Don't think so."
"Anyway, don't worry about that. Come on, over here." I led Vicky to the side of the building and we sat on the grass and leaned our backs against the warm brick facing west where the sun had set.
"Now, the first thing you do is..."
A Surprise
An hour later Vicky and I were in another crappy building, this time a factory that used to make all kinds of chocolate-based goodies. Even after all these years the place still smelled utterly delightful. It was one of the most bizarre experiences of my life, that and what came later. Being down on the factory floor amid a large array of weird and wonderful machines and conveyor belts and all manner of esoteric contraptions, with the whole place alive with the buzz of excited men, their stink not even overpowering the chocolate smell so strong I could taste it, well, it was damn peculiar.
We were also buzzing with the ritual we'd performed, almost giddy with magic and the high of connecting to the Quiet Place and emerging as something different, something better. For Vicky it was a revelation. She'd gasped as we first entered the trance-state, under my guidance and by helping her along with what little magic I'd had left. When I connected, I topped up as fast as I could, knowing it was far from enough to make me as strong as I wanted to be, but also knowing what I had could be used with full force, just that it wouldn't last long.
Vicky felt it the moment she connected, a link between us made by my magic, tethering us to each other, me passing the magic to her like mouth to mouth resuscitation but without it getting weird.
When it was over she was not only back to normal, the shaking and the deathly pallor gone, she was like Vicky but with extra Vickyness. I had done, I knew, a terrible thing. Vicky in full Vicky mode was a whirlwind of manic energy exhausting to watch, Vicky supercharged was like having a houseful of three-year-olds, covering every surface in sugar, and telling them to lick the building clean.
We had no issues getting inside, same as last time—if you knew where to come then you were invited. The Fat Man would be here, and I'd have to deal with him, but there were lots of other people attending who would have information, and if there was a better way of finding Avisha than dealing with the Fat Man I'd take it. So the plan was to stay and mingle. We'd listen to as many conversations as possible, see what they talked about, the fighters they spoke of, and hope for a mention of Avisha. If we came up with nothing, no leads, then it would be time to crack some blubbery heads.
The thought of more interrogations filled me with dread and loathing but I was resolute. These motherfuckers deserved everything I could do to them, and a whole lot more, so I'd do whatever I could stomach and just have to live with the consequences.
It still made me feel sick, though.
Then the cage fights began and all thought of my own pathetic actions, the hurt I could inflict, was put into perspective as human beings morphed into animals and seemed to voluntarily fight each other to the death.
I knew that wasn't the real story, that not all those who took part were doing so of their own free will, not in any meaningful sense. It wasn't like the gladiatorial arenas of old, this wasn't slavery in that sense, but in another it was.
It was a massacre.
Creatures were evenly matched, early rounds involving animals of roughly equivalent size. Some of the fighters were all pomp and posturing as they stepped into the ring, the crowd going wild at their favorites. And then there would be the other guy, maybe someone wanting to make a name for himself in what was a very lucrative sport if you stayed alive. Men paid their fighters a fortune to get into the cage, and the prize money was startling, but some of the contestants were clearly fighting because they had nothing to lose or had been coerced.
Owe a gangster money? Fight to pay it off. Behind on payments? Fight. Want your kids back? Fight. Or maybe just the threat of being killed. You either took your chances in the ring or you'd be dead anyway. It was disgusting, the filthiest of what humanity was capable of, but the shifters themselves were as much to blame as anyone.
Many were wild, loved the thrill of battle and to bear witness to the bloodshed. A large number of the crowd were shifters, some of them in animal form, others changing as the tension mounted and the bloodlust t
ook hold. It made just being there dangerous as hell, and endless fights broke out, quenched quickly by numerous well-armed goons, dealing with the outbreaks with cattle prods or stun guns to shock the troublemakers back into human form.
Other animals merely watched with utter focus, howling and barking and crying and squealing as bout after bout came and went. The floor in the cage, and the cage itself, was soaked with blood and gore, the wounds inflicted horrendous and the true stuff of nightmares.
Vicky kept hold of my hand when a particularly nasty fight finished and two bodies were dragged off, the winner barely clinging to life. She took a breath and sighed as the ringmaster entered the cage and spoke through a handheld mike.
"It seems we have a very special guest for you this evening. A man who needs no introduction, who may not be a shifter but who will, nonetheless, fight to the death. The one, the only, The Hat."
The lights went out, then a spotlight searched the crowd of confused faces for a moment before shining right in my face, blinding me.
"Bugger."
Caged and Dangerous
If you ever find yourself in a room full of shifters and violent, despicable men high on death then my recommendation is first of all don't, second, you'll have to go with the flow until you get a chance to run away screaming loudly.
As multiple hands secured my arms and shoulders and my legs were pulled out from under me, I knew better than to summon magic to blast the hell out of the molesters. The spotlight came back on and I found myself held high by several very large, very serious looking shifter goons. There was no way I could escape now. If I even tried, something very, very bad would happen. To me.
