Red Rain (The Circle Book 3)

by Lee Isserow

  Despite trying not to think about it, he still thought about it. And even though he was consumed by the anguish of ending a life, of cannibalising his kin, he tried to remind himself there was no other way to sustain his body in the abyss. This was what was done there, the strong prayed on the weak, there was no judgement, and there were no laws. . . .

  Still, he prayed once again that the Fates would forgive him for what he had done. . . But could only assume that they would never be able to overlook such a gross perversion.

  He, most certainly, would never forgive himself.

  13

  More firepower

  EPICENTRE, THE CIRCLE

  Light tore across the main floor of the Epicentre, and as it cleared, Raven and Shana found themselves safe from harm. The smell of the sewers followed them as they marched to Faith's door―but he was already on his feet and coming out to meet them.

  “What the bloody hell happened?”

  “A 'thulu,” Raven growled. She was barely containing the rage at not having been given another go at attempting to kill the damn thing.

  “Not a 'thulu,” Shana corrected. “A tenticular beast, that appeared to have taken quadruped form. Immune to fire, or at least a single bolt of fire, and it was not perturbed by having its flesh cut by solidified smoke.”

  “Alright. . .” He mulled for barely a fraction of a second. “Head back with a five man―person―team. Can't let this thing get out and start chowing down on mundies.”

  “Yes sir!” Raven barked, turning on her heel to Tali's desk to pick her troops.

  “I do not believe this is wise, sir,” Shana objected. “It will most likely be waiting for us. . . ready for our return, expecting an attack.”

  “That may be,” he said, glancing over to Raven, who looked thrilled at the impending action. “But as much as it'll be ready for us―we'll be ready for it. . . And I'd wager we have a hell of a lot more firepower than one little 'thulu.”

  14

  Overkill

  NEW YORK, UNITED STATES

  Five black, glossy doors pushed themselves out of the old brickwork of the sewer walls. Using doors for such an offensive was not common procedure, but teleporting back in would have alerted the creature to their presence, and as much as five operatives seemed like overkill for such a modestly-sized foe, they did not wish to let it have any kind of advantage.

  Raven slammed her fists together, activating the enchantments on the knuckle dusters she wore. Fire licked across their surface, illuminating a wicked grin on her lips.

  “We are not expecting to get close to this beast,” Shana reminded her.

  “You might not be, but I want to have some bloody fun. . .” She cackled, taking the lead.

  Shana rolled her eyes and glanced over to the others. Jacobian and Leopold shrugged, and followed her into the darkness, whilst Sabre gestured for her to step ahead. She was going to hold the rear, and began to prepare a casting on her fingers, letting it go unsealed until it was definitely required.

  Raven continued to step into the shadows, much to Shana's disdain, and she took hold of the embers that still clung to the ceiling, sending them ahead to scout out for any signs of their foe. The light shot through the tunnel, and did not seem to find any sign of it, travelling close to a mile in barely a few seconds.

  “This is worrying,” Shana muttered, as Tali watched through her eyes. “There is the chance that it has already made it above ground. . .”

  *

  At her desk, Tali pulled out of her view of the tunnels, and waited for her vision to clear, irises returning to their natural hue.

  She spun through news feeds coming out of New York, desperately searching for any mention for a sign of something otherworldly stalking the mundane streets. There was no evidence of anything matching the description of the creature.

  There was a flurry of activity in her periphery, and she dialled back in to view through Shana's eyes.

  Fire was shooting through the tunnel, shadows were tearing themselves from the walls, arrows of smoke were ripping through dark flesh, and slimy blood was splattering against the old brickwork. They were under attack. And as far as she could tell, the attack was coming from two angles.

  *

  “They've got us surrounded!” Shana shouted, as she threw up a barrier to their rear.

  “Did you see how many there were?” Tali asked, as she watched Leopold attend to Sabre's wounds.

  “Two, maybe? One on each side. . . No idea where they came from. . .”

  Raven punched the beast ahead of them in what she though was its gut. Fire erupted around the impact zone, sending the smell of cooking seafood into the air. She ducked a tentacle that came for her face and hit it again―this time the creature was ready for her, and whipped her legs from underneath her.

  Its teeth bore down on top of Raven, and she tried to roll out of the way, but was held still by its muscular appendages. Even staring down the massive, shiny teeth, her smile didn't even budge. Her arms were still free, and she slammed a fist into the fiend's teeth. They didn't even crack, but the impact was enough to send a torrent of fire down the damn thing's gullet.

  It roared in agony, and let go of Raven's legs, the tentacles darting to its mouth to feel the wounds she had dealt.

  “Jac'!” she shouted. He leaped into the air, launching over her and landing straight into an attack, two short swords at the ready, electricity darting across their tips. He sliced into the slimy beast's gut, then whipped around it, coming from behind and pirouetting to slice through the tentacles it sent after him. Raven returned to her feet and slammed fist after fist into its bulk, sending the thing ablaze, over and over.

  Shana's barrier was under constant assault, and sweat was pouring down her brow as she struggled to hold it in place.

  “Does Sabre still have her casting waiting to be sealed?”

  Shana glanced down. Despite her injuries, Sabre was still holding her casting, just one small gesture until it was to be sealed.

  “Sabre? You with us?” Shana asked.

  She nodded, coughing as Leopold's healing glyphs did their work putting her broken ribs back into place.

  “Ready on my mark?”

  Another nod. With Leopold's help, she turned to face the creature, and prepared to seal her sigil.

  “Three. . . Two. . . One. . .” Shana let the barrier fall, and with the most subtle of movements, Sabre's casting was sealed. An arrow of light cut through the beast, leaving a trail of liquid fire behind it, that seared through the damn thing from the inside out. It roared an agonising cry, a wail that was mimicked by its brother on the other side of the magickians.

  Both monsters collapsed into the shallow stream of effluence, as the last glimmers of life left their bodies.

  The team of five waited in silence, cautious in case both deaths were a subterfuge, each finding their simultaneous defeat all too coincidental. When they were certain they had been victorious, they finally caught their breath.

  “When you're all healed up, can you guys do a quick sweep of the sewer system?”

  None of the team were in the mood to respond, but she could feel the reluctant nods sent through on the call

  “Thanks guys, just being cautious. Can't risk any more of these bastards being out there. . .”

  *

  Tali pulled out of Shana's point of view once again, and resumed observing the scene through the scrying pool on her desk. As she watched the team glyph one another, she couldn't help but notice a tingle at the back of her mind. A thought came to the surface, but it was not a thought that felt like it belonged to her. It was saturated with concern, fear that this was not the only place that these things might be. Erring on the side of caution, Tali sent through one last request to the operatives on the ground.

  “Get the bodies back here as soon as you can, with as much blood still in them as possible. . .”

  If this was not an isolated incident, then they'd need to track the damn things, and
their blood would be the best way to do that. . . But as good as the trackers at the Circle were, they had likely never had to find this kind of 'thulu before. If there were more of these creatures, they'd need a more experienced tracker, an older one, one that had seen things that her generation could only imagine. . . And she had just the tracker in mind, but was almost certain that Faith would not like her unconventional suggestion.

  15

  The time of man was over

  Around the world, under the streets of man, cries were held back, and screams were muffled.

  Each had seen what had befallen their kindred, each had felt every cut and every burn, they had experienced the life being drained from their bodies, and had suffered an impossible grief in the aftermath.

  Their master could feel their anguish, and reached out with psychic arms, holding them close, reassuring them with unspoken words that their brothers had not died in vain. Their pain was not for naught, every single one of them would learn from the experience of those that had passed on. And the slaughter would not go unpunished.

  These words calmed them, the embrace soothed them, and as soon as they appeared to have recovered from the shock of the events in New York, their master gave a rallying call. The message was sent far and wide.

  The time for subtlety was soon to be over. They were expanding their presence across the globe, they were already under most cities, and close to the others. And now that they had witnessed the brutality of these hairless apes with their kin's eyes, felt every blow, and seen how they smiled as they mercilessly took life for no reason but to take a life. . . There was no reason to object to the forthcoming destruction of these vile creatures.

  Their master reiterated that by the time the dust settled, and all the blood had been shed, and the last violent act had been dealt, they would turn the place above into a paradise. It would be a world free from violence, from pain, from suffering. It was to be a utopia. And it would be made in memory of those they lost.

  That was a fitting tribute to their kin, who sacrificed themselves so that the collective could live.

  There were murmurs between them, but nothing close to a disagreement. Each of them agreed that the time of man was over. Soon it would be time for them to rise up, and take the land as their own.

  16

  Very old, very weird

  LONDON, ENGLAND

  Raven and Shana had spent close to five minutes knocking on the door that Tali had directed them to, and had still not got a response from the occupant.

  “I'm getting bored,” Raven grunted.

  “Patience is a virtue,” Shana replied trying her best to hold back a judgemental sigh.

  “Yeah? Well blowing a bloody door up is a virtue in my book. . .”

  “I do not think you understand what a virtue is,” Shana said, knocking once again on the door. The latch clicked, and it swung open of its own accord.

  The two operatives shot a glance to each other, and Raven took the lead, entering into the dimly lit apartment. Following her in, Shana couldn't help but find the open plan room a little curious, and certainly an unconventional venue for the level of magick that Tali had implied resided within. The walls were covered in wooden cabinets, each with glass windows, behind which rows upon rows of ornate tea cups sat on equally ornate saucers, no two the same.

  “Wipe your feet!” shouted an old cockney voice from somewhere deeper in the apartment.

  Raven rolled her eyes and stomped back to the mat by the door, theatrically slapping the soles of her boots back and forth like a disgruntled child. Shana considered saying something, but decided it was neither the time nor the place to attempt to teach Raven manners, let alone give her a lecture on following the rules of another person's house.

  After she too wiped her feet, she continued to observe the location they had been sent to. At the centre of the room was a wide wooden coffee table, with four couches around it that appeared to have been placed intentionally equidistant from the centre of the table they surrounded. To the far left was a kitchen, and beyond that a door to the bedroom.

  “Miss Lang?” Shana inquired. “We are here from the Circle, I believe Talika Rei mentioned we would be coming by?”

  There was no response. At least no verbal response. A series of grunts and smacking sounds echoed out from the bedroom. Raven started making her way towards the source of the noises, only to find herself held back by Shana.

  “It is not polite to enter someone's bedroom without permission. . .”

  “It's not polite to keep someone waiting on your doorstep, then invite them into your house to keep them bloody waiting all over again!”

  “Sorry,” said a deep, tuneful voice from the door.

  The two operatives looked over, and caught sight of large, black eyes, that seemed genuinely apologetic. “She will be out shortly. . .” It was after the second statement that they noticed the ears that dangled down, close to five feet long, and the mounds of sagging flesh, flaps and folds over the top of one another around his face, down his neck, and likely across the entire body he hid behind the door.

  “You are a panotti?” Shana asked.

  The man nodded sheepishly, and a polite smile hung on his fleshy lips.

  Raven did not try very hard to hold in a scoff as she watched the man's flesh ripple and swing frantically to even the smallest of movements.

  “Kleebert!” grunted a female voice from deeper in the room. “Don't just stare at out guests, put the bloody kettle on!”

  The panotti shot a look back into the bedroom, appeared to mumble an apology to the woman inside, then emerged into the kitchen with his long, fleshy ears wrapped around his naked body to preserve his modesty.

  “We are rather in a hurry,” Shana said.

  The panotti shot her another apologetic glance. “She won't be long,” he lilted. “Tea will be ready in a moment.”

  “We don't want bloody tea,” Raven grunted. “We want a bloody tracking casting. . .”

  “Everyone bloody wants something. . .” growled Reva Lang, as the door swung open ahead of her to announce her entrance into the room. She looked to be in her late seventies, not that it was that easy to tell a magickian's age by how they looked. . . She wore a black skirt, and white tunic, had a pale pallor and a mountain of uniformly grey hair immaculately piled atop her head. The monochrome of her appearance was offset by lipstick of the brightest red, and she wore a deep scowl upon her brow that looked as though it had been carved by someone long ago. “How's the tea coming?”

  “Almost ready,” the panotti said, pouring the boiling water into a teapot.

  “We are not here for tea, we are desperately attempting to track down creatures that were living in the New York sewers.”

  Reva raised an eyebrow.

  “They're not bloody alligators,” Raven grunted, throwing a slimy severed tentacle across the room.

  The old woman caught it with lightning-fast reactions and gave the thing a long, good sniff.

  “Oh, this is interesting. . .”

  Raven glared. “Interesting or not, just track the buggers already!”

  “Your friend is very rude,” Reva observed, as she gestured for a large pot to come towards her from the other end of the kitchen. She dropped the tentacle in it, and placed it upon the stove. “This is going to take a little while, tea should be ready though. Kleebert, if you will.”

  The floppy-skinned man nodded sheepishly, found two mismatching cups and saucers, and poured tea into each of them. He carried them to the table at the centre of the room, and gestured for the two Circle operatives to sit.

  With nowhere else to be, and no other paths for investigation to pursue, they reluctantly took seats around the table. Raven sniffed at the tea, and brought the cup to her lips, only to find a barrier between her and the liquid. She shot a look over to Shana, who was stopping her from consuming it.

  “Bloody what? Is it rude to drink tea you've been bloody offered?”

  Shana point
ed to the cups and saucers in the cabinets that lined the room. “I believe Miss Lang is collecting magickian DNA. And if you drink, you will be added to her collection. . .”

  Raven put the cup back on the table, and took to her feet, slipping past Kleebert to sidle up behind Reva. “Why the hell would you want my DNA?”

  “You never know when one of you will go missing. . . or when someone will come knocking looking for one of you. . .”

  Raven glared, and was not satisfied with the answer, but Shana convinced her to retake a seat and wait for the casting to be complete. After all, their purpose there was to discover if there were any more of the creatures they had faced in the sewers―and if there were more, perhaps they could work out how many there might be and how far they had spread. Despite the company, and the location in which they were to learn such things, the task at hand was more important than the incredibly odd proclivities of one very old, very weird woman. . .

  17

  Something unearthly

  High above cities across the world, clouds began to coalesce. It mattered not whether they were forecast, or even whether there was enough moisture in the air for them to be created. Something called them forth, the ether in the atmosphere was compelled to gather and form a portentous rain to fall upon the places where something unearthly was to occur.

  It was isolated, and that was the curious thing that reporters would note, that the clouds only seemed to fall on areas that were tens of metres square. But the reporters did not investigate, they simply smirked at how 'odd' it was. None of them stepped foot anywhere near the isolated rain, and they certainly did not venture to the focal points of the heavy showers.