Ender of Worlds: A Morgan Rook Supernatural Thriller (The Order of Shadows Book 4)

by Kit Hallows

  “And what?”

  Dauple glanced up at me then his gaze sank to the floor. “He said one of our agents screwed up big time and was due for the chopping block, literally. He was talking about you, Morgan.”

  “Really? What are they pinning on me now?” I did my best to ignore the low sinking feeling that was reaching through me with cold, lingering fingers.

  Dauple poured another shot, gulped it down and blurted the words out so fast I almost missed them. “The murder of Franklin Lampton.”

  41

  “Look, I’ll show you.” Dauple pulled a pricy phone with a sleek black case out of his pocket, tapped the screen and brought up a site with a flaming nine-pointed star enclosed in a circle. The official logo of The Hidden Times; a scurrilous tabloid that was big in the magical quarter. Its headline read:

  ‘Slain In His Own Home By The Bloodied Hand Of The Law!’

  I recognized the accompanying image immediately; Franklin Lampton’s house. It must have been taken in better days because its lawn was clipped, its fountain gushed crystal clear water, and there, in the foreground stood Lampton impeccably dressed in a smart grey suit.

  Dauple played the accompanying video, which consisted of hastily shot footage of an attractive, yet vacuous reporter standing outside Franklin’s estate. I glanced at my watch. We’d been in the exact same place no less than two hours ago, which meant whoever had murdered him must have called the press before they’d even committed the crime.

  “… slaughtered in his home, surrounded by portraits and pictures of his loved ones.” The reporter paused to look solemn and then the video cut to an image of Franklin Lampton lying on the floor of his drawing room with his ashen face encircled by a heavy pool of blood.

  “It’s too early to say exactly what occurred at the Lampton Estate,” the reporter continued, raising her painted eyebrow, “but the authorities have named a person of interest who is wanted for questioning in relation to the crime; Morgan Rook, a rogue agent formerly with the Organization.”

  The video made a jump-cut to grainy footage of me on the landing above Lampton’s staircase as he tried to run from me. They’d got me shouting in his face and back handing him before slapping him over the top of the head. Another cut, and they had me dragging him back down the corridor and shoving him into the drawing room. And then a somber, fade to black.

  My head was reeling; this had to be Hugo Lampton’s doing. My thoughts jumped to the flash of light we’d seen when we’d first entered the house. Presumably some sort of device had notified Hugo Lampton of our arrival. I pictured him scrambling from the city, his plan already cooked. Perhaps he’d been looking to off his grandfather for a while. I couldn’t imagine the old man would have served much use to Hugo once he’d handed over the family fortune, and Hugo didn’t exactly strike me as a sentimental kind of guy.

  Dauple looked at me like he desperately needed some reassurance, and I couldn't blame him. “It looks really bad,” I said, “but I didn’t do it. You know that, right?”

  Dauple nodded. “Of course.”

  “It was a set up. Plain and simple. And-” I glanced up as a loud boom echoed outside and the lights flickered.

  “What the heck was that?” Dauple asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said as I walked over to the window. “But it didn’t sound good.”

  42

  I pulled back the damp curtain and looked outside. All I could see was rain, gloom and the grey, chipped stairs leading up to the driveway. Another distant boom rang out. “I think it’s time to go,” I said, “We need to find out what in the hell’s going on.”

  “You want to take my car?” Dauple offered. He pulled his keys from his pocket and held them out to me.

  “Sure,” I said, “but you better stay here. Keep out of it. I’ll text you, to let you know where I’ve left the car.”

  “Rightio,” Dauple said. “I think I’ll go and have a little nightcap and lie down.” His smile was watery and wretched as I shook his hand. Like he’d had enough of the darkness and chaos raging through the city and I knew exactly how he felt.

  “Thanks, Dauple” I called as I followed Astrid and Samuel out.

  The hearse was parked on the street, wedged between two sleek cars that made it look even more like a long dark metallic beetle. I opened the back door for Astrid and Samuel before climbing into the driver’s seat and fastening the clammy seatbelt into place.

  “This car…” Samuel began, his voice trailing off.

  “It’s used for transporting the dearly departed.”

  “Delightful. I thought it smelt a bit dead. Now I know why.”

  I had my phone in hand and was about to call Haskins, but he beat me to it. “What’s the situation?” I asked.

  “There’s several situations,” Haskins shouted as sirens whined and blared around him.

  “What was the boom? It sounded big.”

  “A car blew up on Sixth, then another one went off on the same block. The bomb squad’s on the way, but right now I’ve got another problem. As in a really frigging urgent problem. Meet me at that burger joint on Fourth Street. Fast.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “The place is full of kids that went there for a birthday party. And now there’s a bunch of fucking zombies outside looking to make a meal of ‘em. I got backup on the way but I don’t how long they’re going to take, not with all the other shit that’s happening right now.”

  “I’m on it.” I gunned the engine. The car rattled, a cloud of bitter blue smoke drifted past the windows, and we were off speeding down the dark, empty streets. Now and then I caught sight of a few blinkereds milling around, looking dazed, as if the world was falling down around them. It seemed like it was.

  As we approached the heart of the city, cop cars and ambulances tore past us, each of them heading in the same direction.

  “This is chaos,” Astrid said.

  “It sure is,” I agreed. “And it reeks of orchestrated chaos.” I pulled up on Fourth Street beside a burst hydrant and took a soaking as I ran to the median. The burger place was across the street and a huge crowd had gathered around it. Their hospital gowns fluttered in the breeze as they lumbered toward the window, their snarls and moans filling the air.

  “Get ready.” I turned to Astrid and Samuel. They were already armed.

  As we crossed the street I spotted Haskins’ car. He was crouched behind it, his gun aimed at the horde. I nodded to him and as we got closer, I saw the tags around their ankles. They'd all come from the morgue. The living dead. It seemed Endersley had perfected at least one aspect of his virus.

  The restaurant windows were shot through with web-like cracks and spotted with blood. Kids stood huddled behind them, their faces wracked with horror as they watched one of the restless run into the window and began to hammer his fists upon the shattered glass.

  “Hey!” I called, drawing the attention of a few of the restless from the restaurant. They shuffled toward us, gurgling and growling as they approached.

  “What are we supposed to do?” Samuel asked. “They’re blinkereds.”

  “They’re reanimated blinkereds,” I said. “This is Enderley’s handiwork and we have to do whatever it takes to stop them or we're going to have a massacre on our hands.” I grabbed a crystal, soaked up its magic and pushed through the shuffling throng.

  The kids stared wide eyed as I laid my palm on the window, turning the glass as black as ebony to shield them from the imminent melee. Then I pulled my sword and we set to work, moving as one.

  I swung my blade, striking heads from zombies as Astrid threw daggers in flashing, deliberate arcs. Above the moans and screams was the roar of Haskins’ gun as he took out the creepers closest to the restaurant while Samuel covered us all with his bow, eliminating the restless shambling up behind us, his piercing arrows bringing them down with ruthless efficiency.

  I glanced up as two more of the wretches came toward me. My sword blazed as I shouted, “
End!” Their heads struck the ground with a thud, like flat basketballs and their eyes twitched and blinked. It was a sickening sight. These monsters were mothers, fathers, aunts and uncles, grandparents, and kids whose lives had been snatched away, only to find themselves subjected to this final, grotesque humiliation. Anger flared through me and I swore to visit this very same torment on Endersley.

  We continued to fight until we were down to the last few restless and that was when I felt him, my other, stirring in the depths of my soul like a piranha drawn to the scent of blood. Look what you’ve done, he said. A tinge of gallows humor laced his words. Corpses everywhere and you, as ever, right there in the middle of it.

  I forced him away from my consciousness. He went without a fight, but still the encounter had unsettled me. We’d fought together to destroy Elsbeth Wyght, but ever since that had been accomplished, we’d been more divided than ever.

  “Done,” Astrid said, as she downed the last shuffling zombie.

  “Interesting choice of weapons,” Haskins said. He looked Astrid and Samuel up and down as he walked over and barely suppressed his scowl as he turned to me. “I might say good going, if I was ignorant to the reason why all this shit's going down.”

  “Give it a rest,” I said. “I’m trying to get this fixed.”

  “My guys have been out here all night risking their lives, and this,” he swept a hand toward the bodies in the road, ‘this mess is on you.” A line of police cars sped by us, lighting up the scene as Haskins’ phone rang. He answered and placed a finger in his other ear. Slowly his face grew paler and paler. “Perfect,” he said as he hung up.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Now there’s a hostage situation.”

  “Where?”

  “Meadow Street. At some swanky fundraiser.”

  “Who’s there?”

  “Oh,” Haskins shrugged, “All the city’s big shots. You know, the cream of the fucking crop.”

  “Looks like they were the primary target tonight, and all of this out here was just bread and circuses,” I said. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Haskins called in ambulances and police officers to secure the area while I went inside and reassured the families, telling them to sit tight and that help was on the way. As soon as they seemed reasonably under control, we all headed to Haskins’ car.

  The city was little more than a neon blur as we sped toward the scene.

  “This is it," Haskins barked as he abruptly pulled over in the middle of a block lined with old brick buildings. Black limos and expensive cars of every make associated with this class of unbridled affluence littered the street and I noticed several prestigious law offices and private clinics scattered amid the upmarket galleries and design studios that surrounded the auction house. Any paparazzi that might have been there were long gone but the red carpet and rope cordons were still set up outside the mirrored glass entrance.

  I glanced up as a window in the auction house shattered and glass rained down. A figure appeared, staff in hand. He gazed at us for a moment, before casting a fireball that streamed across the night sky, lighting us in its wake.

  “God, I hate this freaky shit,” Haskins said. “Is that the prick from the bank?" He gave me another accusatory glare and ran low toward the limos. I was about to follow when Samuel cocked his head like a hound on the trail of bloody and succulent prey, then he leaped forward and shoved me hard.

  A violent whine whizzed through the air and shattered the car window behind me. “Run!” Samuel grabbed my arm and yanked me up.

  We raced across the street, zigzagging as another round hit the pavement with a loud ping.

  I knew the sound well.

  Sniper fire.

  43

  Ebomee? The magician had used a blinkered sniper in the bank. But this shot had had a quality that was beyond deadly accurate, and I’d have been lying in the road with half my skull missing if it hadn’t have been for Samuel.

  I ran low, past Haskins’ car, using it for cover as another bullet zinged off the asphalt, and I met Astrid’s gaze as she took cover in a doorway and pointed up and left.

  “Where’s it coming from?” Samuel shouted as he crouched beside me, carefully pulling his bow from his shoulder and setting it down.

  “Astrid reckons up there.” I nodded to the end of the street. “The top of that multilevel parking garage. I’ll see if I can get a better look.” I pulled a telescope from my bag and swept it toward the upper floors. Its magical lens revealed a steady red heart beating slow and calm through a heavy wall. Right on the level she'd pointed out. I snatched my head down as a bullet split the air and pinged off the brick doorway beside me.

  Another upper window of the auction house shattered and a body fell to the ground. A man in a tuxedo, his quiet descent indicating he’d been killed before he’d been tossed from the building. I looked back up to find the magician. He raised his staff to the sky and released a stream of fire that coiled, spiraled and bloomed with red and yellow embers as it formed into a wyvern. Only it wasn’t an illusion this time, but a sentient creature of fire. The beast pulled back its wings and soared, dipping its head as it spotted us, and swept down.

  Whumph!

  It shot over the street, passing within a few feet of us, and then roared back up into the air, circling as it kept us within its blazing, watchful gaze.

  “Great.” I turned back to the auction house where Haskins was hidden behind one of the limos, gun in hand. He glanced my way and I pointed to myself and then to the end of the street. Haskins nodded. I turned to Samuel, “We need to eliminate the sniper. Fast. You ready?”

  “Always.”

  “Cover me as I move in. Haskins is going to do the same.”

  Samuel nodded as he notched an arrow.

  “Go!” I shouted. Haskins leaped up and fired at the garage as Samuel aimed and loosed an arrow. I ran down the street. Astrid’s footfalls rang out behind me and I ducked into a doorway. She squeezed in behind me as Haskins’ gunfire ceased and all of a sudden we were stuck there, up close and locked tightly together.

  I peered round the wall, but it was hard to see the top floors of the garage in the darkness, then the wyvern soared by lighting the street up like a Christmas tree.

  I pulled Astrid in as a bullet whistled into the wall beside the doorway and tore off a chunk of concrete. “Shit!” I peered out but could only see Haskins. I held up my hand, five fingers, four, three. “Get ready” I said to Astrid. Two fingers, one. “Go!”

  We ran as Haskins’ gun cracked and whined. Then a long arrow pierced cleanly through the fiery wyvern and its shaft burst with light as it continued on its trajectory towards the garage. A chime rang out as it hit a large metal sign and illuminated the silhouette of a small, powerful-looking figure poised with a rifle.

  I fired at the garage as Haskins’ shots rang out behind us and the wyvern roared at our backs. “Take cover!” I cried as I leaped over a car. I turned back as Astrid tumbled over its hood and landed beside me.

  We dived into the garage before the sniper could get off another shot and scuttled aside as a huge, feral roar boomed behind us and the ground lit up. The wyvern flashed by, the intensity of its heat scorching the side of my face. And then it blazed through the lot and began to wheel back toward us.

  “This way!” I ran for the stairwell. Astrid passed me before I could reach it. She shoved the door open with her shoulder and held it for me as the bright orange beast snapped at my shoulders and its incandescent flames glowed vivid red in the polished finish on the cars.

  I burst through the opening and Astrid slammed the heavy door shut behind me. Fire leapt through the cracks as the wyvern crashed into the steel with a roar. I heard the beat of its wings as it soared away.

  We headed up the stairwell, slowly, carefully, checking for signs of the sniper in the darkness. Gunfire rang out from the street. Presumably Haskins was keeping the sniper busy. If I was right and it was Ebomee it meant two things. First, I’d
better be at the top of my game. Second, this was a set up and we’d been expected here, so there was a fair chance there could be other agents around.

  “I’ll scout ahead,” Astrid whispered, and before I could say a word she ran up the stairs.

  Finally I cleared the top step and reached for the door when it opened of its own accord, admitting a faint wash of moonlight. Astrid appeared and nodded for me to follow. We ducked behind an SUV and she whispered in my ear, her breath warm and sweet. “At the end of the next row.”

  I glanced round the car to see Ebomee leaning casually against the wall at the end of the lot. She wore one of her trademark suits and she might have looked approachable if it wasn’t for the sniper rifle leaning on the wall beside her. She picked it up and peered over the parapet to take aim when she suddenly cried out and doubled over, clutching her arm. It took a moment to spot the arrow embedded near her elbow. She gritted her teeth as she wrenched it out.

  “Can you get close to her?” I whispered to Astrid.

  She nodded. “Do you want me to eliminate her?”

  “No. Move in and wait for me.”

  Astrid slipped into the darkness. Ebomee winced as she seized the rifle back up. I waited for her to lean over the wall, before moving in, treading as lightly as I could, my gun trained on her.

  She fired and before I could call out to her to drop the rifle an arrow whistled past her head and thudded into the darkness. As Ebomee turned toward it she met my gaze and swept her rifle toward me. She looked me in the eye, and I knew she was committed to pulling the trigger. Until Astrid emerged from the shadows and placed a knife against her throat. “Drop it,” Astrid demanded.

  Ebomee smiled. “I'm losing my touch.”

  “It was four against one,” I said as I kept my gun on her. “Although you did have the advantage, initially. Now like the lady said, drop it.”