“Dense forest, rocky bluffs, a lake, and not much else,” he said.
“Typical nightwing territory,” I suggested.
He nodded. “Yeah, that could be where the lair is. It’s far enough from the trails that the nightwing could have lived there for years without being seen.”
“Not being seen is what these creatures are usually good at,” I mused, checking the distance on the map from the remote area to the highway. “So why is it taking prey thirty or forty miles from its home? And why did it put Jeanette Gautier’s body in a tree here,”—I pointed at the red circle—“if its territory is all the way over here?” I returned my finger to the remote area.
“Maybe it’s expanding its territory,” Leon suggested.
I shrugged. “That’s a pretty big territory for a nightwing. They usually stick close to their lairs.”
Jim pointed at the remote forest and small lake. “We’ll check out this area early tomorrow morning so we can make use of as much daylight as possible.”
“Agreed,” I said.
Jim folded the map and picked up the cooler of beers. “Now, come and sit on the porch and tell me how the hell you ended up getting kicked out of Chicago and sent to a small town in Maine.” He took the cooler onto the porch where three Muskoka chairs made of red cedar looked out over the dark lake. Jim sank into one and handed Leon and me another beer when we joined him.
I told him about Paris, and the fact that I’d let a satori slip through the Society’s fingers. I told him about my trip to the British Museum and the ritual that had recovered my memories, aided by the statue of the god Hapi. And I told him about the magic that had been awoken at the same time as my memories, seemingly powered by magical circles and symbols that were etched into my bones.
When I was finished, Jim asked, “What did your dad say when you confronted him about the magic powers?”
“I haven’t confronted him yet. I was waiting to see if any more memories returned.” I took a sip of the ice-cold beer. “But I remember everything now. He got the Coven to put an enchantment on me when I was just a kid.”
“That’s crazy, man,” Jim said, looking out over the dark lake and shaking his head slowly. “What kind of father would do that to his son?”
“You know what my dad’s like. The Society of Shadows is the most important thing in his life. It comes before his own family.”
Jim nodded. “Yeah, I know.” He looked over at Leon. “And what about you, my friend? What’s your story?”
Leon shrugged. “It’s kinda boring compared to you guys. I’m just an app developer and computer programmer. My story isn’t exciting.”
“Don’t let him fool you,” I told Jim. “He’s a good fighter and he’s helped me out on more than one occasion.”
“I get bored easily,” Leon said. “Fighting bad guys is the only thing that breaks the monotony.”
“So you like excitement?” Jim asked. “Well, you should get plenty of that tomorrow if we find the nightwing’s lair. Those things don’t die easily.”
“Have you ever killed one before?” Leon asked.
Jim shook his head. “No. Nightwings are rare and usually keep to themselves. There’s plenty of lore about them, though, especially from a few centuries ago when they were regarded as demons and even dragons in Europe. Maybe they got tired of being hunted and that’s why they went into hiding. How about you, Alec? You ever kill one?”
“No,” I said. “I’ve never even seen one. Like you said, they’re rare.”
“It’s a shame we have to kill it,” Jim said, looking out over the lake again, reflectively.
I knew what he meant. If the lore was correct, nightwings had been hunted extensively hundreds of years ago in Europe as demons and were now an endangered species, even though that status wasn’t official because they didn’t officially exist.
If it weren’t for the fact that it was killing people, I’d leave the creature alone. But I’d seen the remains of Michael Roland torn open in a tent and Jeanette Gautier’s eviscerated body discarded in a tree. I couldn’t let the nightwing live, knowing that it would kill more people. If I did nothing, the creature’s future victims’ blood would be on my hands.
“We don’t have a choice,” I said.
Jim nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
I finished my beer and put the empty bottle on the deck next to my chair as my phone began buzzing in my pocket. The signal wasn’t strong around Jim’s house but it was better than in the park. I checked the screen. It was Felicity. “Felicity, are you still awake?” I asked as I answered the call. “I didn’t expect you to call me until the morning.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “I couldn’t sleep anyway. I did some research. There are no recorded cases of a nightwing marking its territory like that. It’s unheard of. Nightwings don’t do that sort of thing. They spend most of their time trying to stay hidden, not attracting attention to themselves.”
“I’m going to put you on speaker,” I said. “Jim Walker and Leon are here.” I hit the speaker button and placed the phone on the arm of my chair.
“Hello, everyone,” Felicity said. After Jim and Leon had replied, she told them what she’d told me.
“We think we found where its lair might be,” I told her. “We’re going there in the morning.”
“If you bring back any information about the creature, it would be a great help for other investigators in the future,” she said. “I can apply to have it uploaded to the Society’s database.”
“We can get some photos of the lair and the creature,” Jim said. “I’ll put it all in my report.”
“Excellent.” Felicity added, “Please be careful, all of you. This nightwing is acting unpredictably, so you need be on your guard.”
“We will,” I said. “And we’re going to get plenty of rest tonight so we can go hunting early in the morning.”
“All right,” she said. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Felicity.” I ended the call and put the phone in my pocket. I would have liked to speak with her some more but she was right, we needed to get to bed if we were going to be in fighting mode tomorrow. And it sounded like she hadn’t gotten any sleep herself. I’d call her tomorrow when we’d dealt with the nightwing and have more of a conversation with her then.
“I guess we should get some sleep,” I said to Leon and Jim.
“Sounds like a good idea,” Leon said. “Traveling all day is tiring.”
“I’ll show you your room.” Jim got out of his chair and drained his beer bottle. “Alec, you might as well have your old room.”
“Sure,” I said. “See you guys in the morning.” I grabbed my suitcase and went into the house, through the kitchen, and along the corridor that led to “my” room.
Although I’d never actually lived with Jim—when I’d worked as his assistant, I’d lived in a Society-appointed apartment in Huntsville—there had been many evenings when Jim and I had spent long hours discussing cases and I’d stayed over. Eventually, the room at the end of the corridor became known as my room.
I opened the door and entered the room. It felt immediately familiar and welcoming to me even though I hadn’t been here in a while.
There was a small bookshelf by the window and on its shelves were the books I’d been reading when I’d stayed here: a book on magical orders throughout history and a couple of grimoires that detailed summoning and banishing spells. On the shelf above these was a collection of paperback novels I’d read in here or out on the deck during summers past.
I wondered if I’d been happier back then, a rookie investigator getting involved with his first cases, excited at using magic to fight evil, learning new things from Jim. Looking back, those days sure felt happier.
Sitting on the bed, I looked out of the window at the dark lake. A lot had happened since those early days of being an investigator. I’d learned about the magical inscriptions on my bones, discovered the location of the Spear of Destiny—an artifact highly
sought after by the forces of evil—and I’d found out that my mother’s death hadn’t been the accident everyone thought it had been.
The Society of Shadows, which had once seemed like a shining beacon of all that was good in the world, the last bastion against the forces of the supernatural, was now fighting inner corruption, compromised by its eternal enemy, the Midnight Cabal.
Nothing was like it used to be.
I told myself to snap out of it. Hell, I’d been traveling all day so I was probably just tired. I probably just needed to get some rest.
Undressing quickly, I slipped into the familiar bed and closed my eyes, falling asleep as if I were sliding down a long, muddy tunnel into darkness.
That night, I dreamed of Mallory. I was standing in a misty forest and I could see lights through the trees. I moved in that direction but I couldn’t feel the ground beneath my feet. Looking down, I saw only the mist. I was still able to pass between the trees toward the lights by simply willing myself to move in that direction.
I reached a clearing where a Victorian house rose out of the mist, its windows seeming like eyes regarding me as I stood before it. All the lights inside were burning and I could hear dance music emanating from inside, the bass thudding like a heartbeat.
I drifted up the steps and onto the porch. The music was louder now, the beat of the bass vibrating through the house, myself, and the surrounding woods. Two polished brass numbers on the door declared the house to be number 19 and I wondered why a house in the middle of nowhere would need a number at all.
I could hear laughter and whoops of excitement beneath the constantly thrumming music. It sounded like there was a party happening inside.
I reached for the brass doorknob and the instant I touched it, the music stopped. The lights in the house went out, plunging the clearing into total darkness. The laughter and voices inside the house died.
The door swung open, revealing a dark foyer beyond, lit by moonlight creeping in through the windows. There were bodies lying on the floor and the smell of death drifted in the air.
I was about to turn away and leave the house when I heard Mallory’s voice inside. “Alec, I’m here.”
I stepped inside instantly. “Mallory?”
“Alec.” Her voice came from upstairs. I looked up the wide, moonlit staircase that led from the foyer to the level above, flanked by ornate balustrades topped with carved gargoyle heads. There were more dead bodies on the stairs. I glanced down as I stepped over them—my ability to drift gone—and realized they were all in their late teens.
“Mallory?” I called again. “Where are you?”
I reached the top of the stairs and suddenly felt a cold, malevolent presence behind me. I whirled around. All I could see was a passageway leading into darkness but I still felt as if I was being watched by cold, unfeeling eyes.
“Alec.” The voice was faint but it was unmistakably Mallory’s. I walked along the passageway, straining my ears to hear any sound that would tell me where she was or give away the location of the malevolent presence I felt in the house. I passed closed doors on both sides, pausing to listen at each one.
I didn’t dare open any of them. A cold finger of fear had settled on the back of my neck. I wouldn’t open any door until I was sure Mallory was behind it.
“Mallory,” I called, “speak to me.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I wished I could take them back. They sounded too loud in the deserted passageway. The thing in the house was sure to hear me.
“I’m here,” Mallory said, and I was sure the words came from the door in front of me.
I opened it and entered a small, dusty room with bare boards on the floor and no furnishings except for a full-length mirror in the center of the room.
“Alec.” The voice came from the mirror.
I rubbed dust off the glass with my sleeve and gazed into it. Mallory’s face looked back at me, her dark eyes frightened. She recognized me and pressed her hands against the glass from her side. “Alec, you found me.”
“Where are you?” I asked. All I could see behind her was darkness.
“I don’t know,” she said, “but I’m glad you’re here too.”
I frowned. “I’m not there with you. I’m on the other side of this mirror. I’m dreaming.”
She looked worried. “No, you can’t be dreaming. This has to be real. It has to be real because if it’s a dream, I can’t wake up.”
The image in the mirror began to shimmer and shift until Mallory was gone and in her place was a darker-skinned woman wearing a white kalasiris, the simple sheath dress worn by women in ancient Egypt. The dress was adorned with beads and feathers.
The woman’s hair was black as midnight, worn long with the bangs held back by a simple gold headpiece. Her face was angular and pretty, her eyes outlined with kohl.
I stepped back from the mirror, surprised by the sudden transformation. What the hell had just happened? Where was Mallory?
As quickly as the woman had appeared, she disappeared and in her place stood Mallory again.
“Mallory, who was that?”
“You saw her?” she asked, her voice sounding hopeful.
I nodded. “Yeah, I saw her.”
“It’s Tia. The sorceress. She’s been with me ever since I stabbed her heart and cursed myself. She’s…inside me somehow.”
“What do you mean? What does she want?”
“Revenge. She wants to destroy Rekhmire. She’s helping me too, helping me track down Mr. Scary.” She looked at the blackness around her, at something I couldn’t see beyond the edge of the mirror. “That’s how I got here.” Looking back at me, she said, “Alec, are you still there?”
The image in the mirror began to dim, Mallory fading away and the glass merely reflecting the empty room behind me like any normal mirror.
“Mallory!”
“Alec, I can’t hear you anymore. Are you still there?”
Then she was gone. I stood back from the mirror and felt that other, malevolent, presence in the house again. Whatever it was, it was searching for me, reaching out with its senses, hunting its prey with a cold, deadly determination.
I fled back down the moonlit staircase, avoiding the bodies littered over the steps, and ran for the door. It stood open, the dark woods beyond offering a place to hide from whatever was hunting me.
A moment before I reached the threshold, I felt an icy darkness inside the house reach for me, trying to grab me and pull me back, but I leaped forward, out of the house and onto the porch. I stumbled and rolled, regaining my feet quickly and turning back to the door to face whatever was coming out of it to get me.
But the door was closed. The lights were burning inside the house again and the steady thrum of dance music vibrated through the walls and out into the clearing.
I was floating above the ground again, my feet shrouded in mist.
When I woke up, I was bathed in sweat, confused and disorientated. Everything around me seemed unfamiliar for a moment, then slowly came into focus. I was in Jim’s house, in my old room.
I’d had either a nightmare or a vision, or a combination of both.
Whether it had been just a dream or something more, one thing was for sure: I had to contact Mallory and make sure she was okay.
I picked up my phone from the nightstand and called her number. As usual, I got her voicemail. “Mallory, it’s me again. I’m really worried about you so can you please call or text me as soon as you get this? Thanks.” I hung up, wondering if someone at the Society could put a trace on Mallory’s phone and tell me where it was. If I kept getting no reply, I was going to have to look into that option.
I respected Mallory’s need for privacy but now I was afraid she wasn’t answering her phone because she was unable to for some reason. I knew her and knew that even if she didn’t want to speak to me, she’d send a text saying she was okay and telling me to stop bugging her.
Putting the phone back on the nightstand, I settled down into the bed a
gain, staring up at the ceiling. I doubted I’d get much sleep after the nightmare but soon my eyelids felt heavy and the room around me faded away.
If I dreamed again that night, I didn’t remember it.
Chapter 6
The next morning, we bumped along a narrow, rocky trail in Jim’s Jeep. Leon was in the passenger seat and I was in the back with the weapons and magical items we’d brought along.
We’d left the highway behind a couple of hours ago and Jim had navigated the Jeep alongside roads and trails, sometimes going off-road for a while before picking up another trail. Soon, this trail would end and we’d have to hike the rest of the way to the nightwing’s lair.
“It went a long way to get to those people it killed,” Leon said.
“The distance isn’t all that far for a winged creature,” Jim said. “Some sea birds can fly thousands of miles before needing to land. The nightwing would have no problem reaching its victims.”
“The weird thing,” I said, “is that it’s decided to do so in the first place.”
“This is as far as we go in the Jeep,” Jim said, skidding to a stop and killing the engine. He opened his door, got out, and came around the back. I passed him the backpacks and weapons before sliding out into the morning sunshine.
We’d packed the equipment this morning, standing around Jim’s kitchen table. Each of us had an enchanted sword and dagger. Jim had a full-size crossbow and I had a pistol crossbow. Leon had a shotgun with shells containing silver, the shells I usually called “Werewolf Stunners.” We had no reason to believe the nightwing was affected by silver but we had no reason to disbelieve it either.
We each had a faerie stone in our pocket as well as a Maglite and a compass. The backpacks contained mundane gear such as waterproof clothing, food, climbing rope, harnesses, carabiners, first-aid kits, and water. Hunting a nightwing was dangerous enough but wandering into a dense forest held its own risks. Jim’s pack also held a Nikon DSLR camera so he could document the creature and its lair for Felicity.
Dead Ground (Harbinger P.I. Book 4) Page 4
