Ink and Shadows

by Rhys Ford

  “How did you know I traded something?” Mal wondered if he should attempt to pull the man free from the wraith’s attention. A large section of the hydrant’s base rocked on its edge near the man’s head, blood beginning to pool from the slashes across his throat. Mal watched as the redcap furtively shuffled from behind a nearby shrub to the dubious safety of a column, the redcap’s tongue working hungrily at his lips.

  “They don’t give anything away for free and usually give you something you can find out yourself.” Ari fixed a pointed glare at Mal. “I’m asking you again, what did you trade? Nothing from my car, right?”

  “No, he was happy with the towel I used to sop up the blood I was going to get all over your precious carpet,” Mal snapped back. “I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

  “You fucking idiot.” Ari’s fist clenched, and he told himself not to crack open Mal’s skull. Death warned him off the last time he’d struck Mal into unconsciousness. “You gave him your blood?”

  “Seemed like a good idea at the time. I wasn’t using it anymore. I was done bleeding out. Didn’t have any plans to put it back in me, being dried and all.” Mal got up onto his knees, feeling each pebble under his shins. “It wasn’t a lot of blood. How much could he have gotten from it?”

  “A dried towel can be soaked with water to bring the blood back up, and there was a lot of your blood on that rag.” Ari cursed the younger Horseman’s foolishness. “Shit, why didn’t you just stab a seraphim, pull out its wings, and give him those as well?”

  “You know, I’m getting kind of tired of you thinking I know everything.” A hedge went flying, sections of sidewalk being ripped up by the creature’s claws, the water pipes below bursting as the shadow came into contact with the cold iron. The sirens drew nearer, and the shadow fed off the chaotic emotions streaming from the frightened crowd. “Besides, how much power do I have? I’m Pestilence, remember? You’re always telling me I’m the least of the Horsemen.”

  “Quit your whining, Pest. That thing is tearing this place and those humans apart.” Ari spotted the wraith. “Come on. Guess you’re better than nothing.”

  Stepping into the main parking lot, the wraith crouched down and inhaled deeply, tracking something on the ground. The creature turned its massive head, following the scent, then with a sharp jolt, scrambled past the crowds and broke into a full run. Ari swore as the wraith tore past them. “Come on, it’s moving. Let’s follow it.”

  “Do you think that’s smart?” Mal protested as Ari manhandled him into the Mustang. “Okay, so it’s probably what Death would want us to do, but—”

  “Shut up!” Ari cut him off, gunning the engine and pulling out of the space, barely dropping the transmission into drive before barreling out of the driveway. He handled the drifting end of the Mustang with a skilled ease, strong hands gripping the steering wheel. One of the back tires jumped the curb, giving the car a little bump as they hit the pavement and roared onto the street.

  “Again, thinking this isn’t the wisest thing to do.” Mal grabbed at the molded armrest. “You think you can keep up with that wraith in this?”

  “If I can’t keep up with a wraith in this Mustang, I’ll eat Death’s Vanquish.”

  “You might be doing that anyway when he sees what happened to his car,” Mal retorted, closing his eyes as they squealed around a slow-moving minivan. “You’re going to kill us. Sometimes I think you like seeing how far you can take things just to see if you can kill me and blame it on something else.”

  “You know, for someone who is immortal, you sure spend a lot of time complaining that you’re going to die.” A motorcycle cut in front of the careening Ford. Ari slammed on his brakes and downshifted, zipping through a tiny space between two lumbering trucks. “Now let me drive. Unless you see that thing, then tell me where the hell it went.”

  “I think it went down that street.” Mal pointed down a tight, curvy bend, lawn signs spotting the grass ponds bravely growing between lengths of sidewalk. “Either that or they’re making VWs a lot uglier these days.”

  “Let’s see if we can catch up with it.” Ari pressed down on the gas, cutting the corner sharply. “It might lead us to where the Veil started thinning.”

  “How much thinner can it get? That thing came through it,” Mal squeaked, slamming against the passenger door as Ari made another tight turn. “It just closes back up, right? Doesn’t a tear just close back up?”

  “It’s supposed to. Sometimes it doesn’t. Then shit happens.” Ari slowed down, eyes scanning the area for the wraith. Spotting a quick-moving shadow cast on a building’s exterior, he hurried the Mustang along. “One of the crazies behind the store—”

  “Don’t call them that, Ari,” Mal muttered.

  “So the crazy guy I ran into told me he’s been seeing things walk through. Small things like spirits and bogeys, but still, that’s not a good thing.” Ari swore as another car cut in front of his path. “Where small things can come through, eventually bigger things can. That’s never been a good thing in the past. Don’t see that changing anytime soon. I’m worried that one over there came through uninvited. If it did, then we’re fucked.”

  “You think a wraith that big came through without being summoned?” Mal’s throat suddenly felt dry.

  “No. Shit, maybe,” Ari replied, jerking the wheel to the side to avoid a trash can lying in the street. “I think the Veil weakening isn’t what someone wanted. If someone wanted to bring something over, something big over, it would be stretched in one spot just long enough for that something to cross over. Then it would snap back. A summoning is just a breach. It wouldn’t thin the Veil. This is wrong.”

  “Someone bringing a wraith over isn’t wrong?” Mal shouted as he spotted the canine-like creature pawing at the base of a streetlamp, canting its head as it tracked a scent. “What can be much more wrong than that?’

  “A lot of things can be called from the Veil, but they can be controlled. Maybe not by us but controlled by someone,” Ari said. “If nasty, big things can just walk through, this place is going to go to shit and fast. Those things don’t kill easy when they’re behind the Veil. Nearly impossible if they’ve crossed over.”

  He’d half listened to Death and Ari talk about the past, of enormous creatures formed from the shadows and feeding off entire towns before they could be killed. “This isn’t anything but bad, then?”

  “Very bad,” Ari agreed. “Now let’s find out where that damned monster is going.”

  THE CREATURE plunged for him, curving past his shoulder and slamming into the wood paneling behind him. Chilled, he shivered, a frost pouring over his right arm where the form touched him. His shoulder ached where its minute nails dug into his skin. Pulling up the sleeve of his shirt, he blew on the welts bubbling up, furrows of blisters running from his chest and over his forearm.

  All around him, the room churned, once pitch-black shadows now separating into distinct shades of blue and gray amid swirls of dusky red. Eyes formed in the crevices of the walls, following the lines of the paneling, painted sienna highways for blinking orbs. Sometimes a nose would push outward, bending the fake wood around the protuberance, nostrils flaring as they sniffed at the air. Just the hint of a face, the side of a jaw or a cheekbone, dimpled with gouges that leaked more shadow. Fingers started to press at the cracks, forcing sharpened talons into the room, then snapping back, not quite strong enough to push through.

  Kismet hooked his hands over the edge of the uneven mattress and stared at the blossoming world in his room. Thin shades of people carried on through the walls, some glancing his way and marking his presence before disappearing. He almost fell from the bed, found his balance, then headed to the door.

  The cold air outside made him shiver, chilling the moistness of his sweat under his thin T-shirt. Wrapping his arms tight about his thin chest, Kismet stood still, drinking in the changes in the world he saw laid out in front of him.

  The moon hung low over the far-off hills, poking
in and out of a string of clouds. The neighbors were still on the walkway, their voices a scream of noise under a curtain. Kismet could no longer make out what they were saying or if they were doing any talking at all, their mouths moving in a rapid shushed whisper. Luis, a man Kismet knew rarely raised his voice, screamed soundlessly at his girlfriend. The heat of her anger was tempered only slightly by the irrational craziness set into the lines of her face, and she faced Luis to give him a piece of her mind.

  “Hey!” Kismet rubbed at his arms, trying to get the chill out of his skin. “You guys okay? Luis, maybe you guys need to take a walk.”

  The woman struck at her boyfriend’s face, the silent slap leaving an angry red mark over his whiskered cheek. Luis’s mouth turned ugly, shouting back in a silent roar. She responded, eyes filling with fear when Luis stepped closer, body tense with fury. Her hands raised, a gold bracelet glittering on her wrist, she tried to push Luis away. Stronger and heavier, he didn’t budge and shoved her back into the cinder-block wall.

  Kismet moved forward a step, then stopped. A child-shaped curling smoke floated between the couple, growing brighter with each second, its face visible as it turned about in the air. Almond-shaped black eyes, lacking whites, wrapped about its triangular face, its features growing stronger with each breath that buffeted its body. Sharp teeth curled over its lips, a thin slash of menace above a pointed chin. The thing spotted Kismet, alarm widening its mouth into an O. It moved forward, as if to intercept him, then skidded to a stop, its spindly arms flailing back hastily as a shadow loomed behind the young man.

  Luis grabbed at the woman, digging into her arms with his hands and yanking her against the building’s side. Her mouth contorted in a noiseless scream, she tore at his face, burned red-painted fingernails raking into his cheek. They took no notice of the pale young man standing near them.

  A hot wind burst on Kismet’s shoulders, warming the chill from his body. It carried with it a faint odor of decay. While the heat was strangely welcome, Kismet had a strong suspicion that he wouldn’t like what was behind him. The smoky wraith took one last inhalation of the argument and plunged down into the shadows at Luis’s feet, disappearing into the black.

  “God, what the hell is going on?” He wanted to turn around. To be honest with himself, he wanted to walk back into his room and shut the door behind him. “Look behind you, Kiz. Can’t be anything worse than what’s in front of you.”

  The heat was growing, and Kismet reluctantly twisted around, then immediately regretted it.

  A doglike creature stood a few feet from him, massive feet spread apart to support its wide body. Panting, it ducked its head and sniffed hard at him, drool foaming along its folded-over lips.

  Its head was nearly as big as Kismet’s, a thick fur spottily spread over its skull, pointed ears flopping down to the sides. Kismet could make out its shoulders rising up behind it, its body sloping down to its narrow hips. Its nails clicked and caught on the artificial turf laid out along the walkway’s edge, making a soft snicking noise as it walked.

  “Oh, fuck me,” he whispered under his breath, his panic rising in short bursts along his torso. The monster swallowed, its throat working its neck’s strong muscles, its chest rippling with the effort.

  Wrinkled brindle skin, spotted and flaking, covered its flanks, strands of wispy hair clustered on its hip bones. Its eyes glowed as it approached, and its rank smell assaulted Kismet’s nose.

  When the creature came closer, Kismet stepped back, his foot hitting the walkway and catching on the turf. Caught on the uneven edge, he went down to his knees, the plastic faux grass skinning his palms. The violent motion wrenched his already touchy stomach, and he retched, choking on his own vomit as he tried to get back up onto his feet to run. Wanting to disappear like the smoke thing he’d seen, Kismet twisted onto his back, prepared to kick out at the monster.

  A spindly thread of drool clung to its muzzle, stretching down to drag along the cement sidewalk. The rough walk crackled under the spit, small chunks of rock pocked where the end struck. One chip struck Kismet’s face, searing a line across his cheek. Another step brought the monster even closer, its eyes fixed firmly on the artist sprawled out before it. Taking a deep breath, Kismet drew his legs up, waiting for the monster to come near.

  Sound returned. Suddenly and overwhelming.

  It was too loud. Everything flared to a brilliant volume, shrieking and mingled. Amid the cacophony, he strained to filter out what was immediately around him. He could hear the monster’s heavy breathing, a deep, growling pant in its chest as it stepped closer. Behind him, the couple continued their intense, violent argument, Luis’s fists flying across his girlfriend’s face.

  The woman’s screams were loud and pleading, as were the heavy wet thumps of Luis’s hands striking her pummeled flesh. Kismet stared in horror, caught between the descending menace of the growling creature and the woman’s death.

  He cried out when her screams suddenly stopped, the rest of the world’s noises continuing on as if nothing had happened.

  Her blood splattered on the faded ivory motel walls, a vivid splash of red that dripped onto the sidewalk. Luis’s sweatpants soaked up the blood, red trails creeping up to his knees. He ignored that as well, his knuckles now torn from continuously striking hard bone and muscle. The woman’s corpse began to bleed out, pools of fluids creeping down the slanted walkway.

  Nose twitching, the monster stopped in its tracks, drawn by the scent of death nearly as much as by the young man it identified as its prey. Kismet tried to work his legs free from the lethargy of his brain, hoping to be able to reach his room door before the creature caught him.

  The monster saw the movement and pounced, its jaws open and its giant paws slamming down beside Kismet’s head.

  A rumbling sound drew the creature’s ears back, the points swiveling around. A growl threatened to break apart its rib cage, nostrils flaring as it sniffed at the air. The growl deepened, jaws closing down over Kismet’s neck. The young man tried to scream, but nothing came, his air supply cut off by the canine’s fangs sinking through his throat. Choking on his own blood, Kismet thrashed about, convulsing around the wraith’s powerful mouth.

  His hands pushed uselessly at the immovable weight straddling his chest, unable to budge the heavy monster. White pain coursed through his body, his mind overloaded by the aching waves. His blood pooled on the fake grass, a small bog filled with miniature green plastic clusters. Where the monster’s teeth broke through his skin, he burned from the acidic dribbles of the wraith’s saliva, a faint popping sound as he cooked around the monster’s hold.

  The monster released him, only to bite back down again, firming its grip. As the feeling left his face, he laughed, a chuckle wheezing through his punctured throat when an all too familiar numbness stole into his body. If he’d only been willing to die, the pleasant scary feeling of nothingness that he chased with pills and needles could have been his.

  Kismet made a trail behind him, a wetness darkening the cement where he bled. The monster’s legs surged, dragging its prey down the walkway and toward the parking lot. Panting, he struggled, refusing to be carried off like a chicken. The monster growled and shook him, hard.

  “Not dying like this.” Kismet fought, his weakening hands nearly useless against the creature’s greater strength.

  Checkerboard squares swam in front of his eyes, and his stomach clenched at the pain. Every breath became torture, a struggle to pull in air. He vaguely heard the roar of an engine behind him and then nothing as his body began to shut down. Balling his fist, he struck at the monster’s muzzle.

  “Fuck you, bitch.” Each word was a torture to mutter, and his hand throbbed where he’d struck against the creature’s hard skull. Pulling his fist back, he was determined to take out at least a tooth before he died.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ARI PULLED himself free of the car, going for his weapon. The hilt slid into his palm, settling against the ridges when his fing
ers closed over them. Ari moved swiftly. He noticed a ghost watching him through a part in the curtains. She faded when spotted, leaving the imprint of her face against the glass.

  The huge wraith snarled, an ominous sound close to Kismet’s numb hearing. He could barely feel his fingers or anything below his waist. The wraith shook him, tossing Kismet’s limp body back and forth on the turf. Clamping down further on Kismet’s neck, it continued to drag him, unmindful of the Horsemen coming its way.

  “He’s got that kid,” Mal shouted at Ari, circling around the wraith to its right. The monster’s gleaming eyes tracked Mal, keeping the Horseman in sight. Stopping in its tracks, it sniffed at the air, then dismissed Mal as a threat. It jerked against its prey’s weight, pulling Kismet along another foot.

  “I can see he’s got the kid. It shouldn’t even be able to get a hold on him,” Ari yelled back, grabbing at the Veil with his mind to pull it over the wraith. Shadows around them thickened, enveloping the wraith. It shivered from a brush of cold over its body, then adjusted its mouth around the boy’s throat. The air shimmered again before falling back into place.

  Ari stood there for a moment, slack-mouthed with surprise. The wraith should have let the boy go, the Veil’s touch overwhelming the creature. He glanced at a sobbing Hispanic man curled up over the bloody body of a dead woman. “Nothing. Shit, this thing is fully Veiled. Let’s see if we can get it to drop the boy.”

  To Ari’s experienced eyes, the woman looked recently dead, her limbs still softened with slack muscles. There was too much blood for Ari to tell what happened. Either the monster somehow attacked all three and was only now finishing up with the boy, or other things were at play.

  “See if you can get around to the front of it,” Ari directed Mal. “I’ll take it from the back. They’re more vulnerable from the back. Less pointy teeth. You can be bait.”