The doors swung open; made of gold, they were twenty feet tall and just as wide, had to weigh tons, he was glad he wasn’t there to be punished. Those who were in the doghouse were punished in a variety of creative ways—two of the fae had collars around their necks attached to the pulley’s on the doors. Damn, had to give you a real pain in the neck opening his damned doors all day.
None of their powers worked in the realm, you could dematerialize in but once there, Dayne had to give you permission to leave, it always made him twitchy when summoned; worried he’d be in the shite and stuck there for decades or centuries while the god had his latest hissy fit.
Striding quickly into the room, wasn’t good to linger in the hallways, there were all manner of nasty supernatural creatures wandering around, all having sworn loyalty to Dayne. The goblins were the worst, they would eat you as soon as speak to you. Not to mention, their skin was like pebbled gray leather, with horns and yellow-slitted goat eyes. Oh yeah, and they were about two feet tall. Don’t let the height fool you, these guys could destroy an army—they were ferocious.
Sitting on an ostentatious gold throne carved with more sun symbols and inlaid with enough gems to make a pirate fall to his knees weeping, Dayne looked every inch the haughty god, sprawled across his throne as if he didn’t have a care in the world. To his left another imprisoned fae, knelt, his white hair shorn off, chained in submission. On his right, a three-headed midnight black hound sat at attention, taking away a bit of the studied nonchalance.
The hound was legend. Came from one of the deep circles of the Nether realm; loved to tear humans, Walkers, and other creatures to pieces, playing with them before devouring them, preferably with wasabi sauce. Was said the beast had the power to keep you alive so you knew you were being consumed. Even worse, the beast actually talked.
“Captain Rawlins Huntington, how goes the battle?” Idly, Dayne kicked the fae, watching him shield his face, waiting for the next blow.
“Milord, ‘tis always a pleasure. I’ve sent Alexander after Robert, and I have men tracking Colin along with the woman traveling with him,” Rawlins said as he bowed.
Having been imprisoned in the Nether realm for eons as punishment for murdering the ancient sun god, no one knew who had freed Dayne.
At six foot six, with short red-spiked hair, midnight black eyes, and golden skin covered with black and purple tattoos which shifted and changed in the light, depending on his mood, he was a fearsome sight to behold.
It was difficult to look at him; he was frighteningly beautiful, with a sculpted face and broad shoulders. He favored black Armani suits and wraparound mirrored sunglasses. Sometimes he hid his skin color and let the tattoos show, others, he hid all of it. With the gift of eloquence, spoken in a rough Greek accent, women fell all over themselves to get close to him and bed him when he visited the human realms.
“Ah, good, Alexander is one of my better fighters. He’s crafty enough to trick Robert into letting his guard down. I’d prefer him alive if possible; Fury”—he said this as he patted one of the dog’s heads—“got indigestion after he ate the last Shadow Walker.”
“Seriously, dude, needed to be oven-roasted first next time, stringy, very stringy.” The middle head finished, looking over Rawlins. “You look tastier.”
Grimacing in distaste, Rawlins told the demon, “I’ll send over a case of wasabi sauce, if I remember you like a particular brand from New Orleans.”
Fury nodded, pleased, and went back to watching the room. He was a three-headed dog who also took form of a raven or of a man though in reality he was a very nasty demon in service to the bitchy god.
“Why are you bothering with the woman? I’m sure there are plenty of willing or unwilling women as the case may be, to bed and eat or just eat, what’s so special about this one? If you’re wasting my time, maybe a few decades wandering the maze would teach you some manners.” He narrowed his gaze on Rawlins.
Rawlins cleared his throat, feeling the fae looking up at him from his kneeling position. That damned three-headed dog, Fury was watching him intently, waiting for him to cock it up.
“The woman’s name is Emily; she can see us.” Rawlins paused, letting his words sink in, seeing the realization of what that meant, cross Dayne’s face.
“She’s been to Shadow and back then.”
“There’s more, we believe she might be able to break the curse he’s under.”
“Don’t you find it rather humorous the ‘good guys’ are cursed while all of you simply serve me? Much easier and no chance of getting out of the agreement.”
“Yes, milord. The woman is traveling with him. He’s taking her up the coast, probably to a safe house. We’ll find them and kill her just in case she can break the curse.” Standing his ground but ready to jump out of the way, Rawlins watched Dayne closely to determine the jerk’s mood. Argh, these gods were bitchy little girls and more vindictive than a PMSing, pissed-off, high school mean girl.
“I’m not even going to ask why she isn’t dead already. I don’t want to hear her name again until it’s done. If I have to waste my time getting involved, you’ll be spending the next millennium in my maze of fun,” Dayne sneered.
“Have Alexander take his men, I want Thorne’s pets destroyed, every blasted one of them. On the upside, once we destroy the last Shadow Walker, the walls between the human realm and our realm will open; we can take back power and rule the worlds.
Don’t make me unleash Fury. I will if you fail. After he was done feasting and wreaking havoc on the humans, I’d have enough dead humans to create thousands of armies—not to mention, we can always use more workers down here. I have lots of projects to complete.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Rawlins told him. Fury looked pleased at this information but wisely kept his yap shut. He might have three heads, but Rawlins was willing to chop them all off, he could only take so much smart mouthitis in one day.
He was thinking about keeping Emily alive, farming her out to the minions. She’d be able to spot the Shadow Walkers when the minions couldn’t. They lost a lot of workers; Shadow Walkers catching them unaware. She could warn them, and if she behaved, he might keep her for himself instead of killing or imprisoning her. Bowing, he tried to dematerialize back to the human realm and found he was unable. Eyebrow arched in inquiry, he started to ask ‘what the hell?’ as Dayne nonchalantly waved a hand, “Oh, right, you’re free to go.”
Bastard. He was all for power and ruling but wasn’t so sure about these human “farms” Dayne was setting up. The big bright idea was to enslave humans, keeping them alive to take their energy, bit by bit until they died. All around the world, Dayne had started farms, set up in abandoned warehouses, buildings, underground bunkers, and farms, where he had Day Walkers stealing humans.
Mostly those who wouldn’t be missed anyway—the homeless, runaways, druggies, hookers, the forgotten. They were taken to heavily guarded locations where the humans’ only purpose was to provide sustenance and an extra energy boost to the Day Walkers. Dayne didn’t need the energy; he was a god, came with plenty of juice.
The newest plan was to take over adoption agencies and orphanages—take the kids, they had a bigger energy signature—ever see a three-year-old running around at full speed? This way there’d be more slaves to keep providing energy, until such time as humanity could be destroyed.
Was rather humorous when you thought about it—people eating animals, now turned into “cows” themselves to feed the power hungry Day Walkers.
Some of the other creatures, like the goblins, would be brought over to guard the humans though Rawlins thought it was a bit like the fox guarding the henhouse. Oh well, whatevs, Dayne would do what he bloody well wanted to. He made a mental note to check in on the two farms in Inverness. If the goblins were eating the stock, he’d be blamed, better to make sure all was well.
Chapter 15
Robert bid them farewell. After picking up his next cargo load, he was sailing back to Edinburg
h. Colin dragged Emily into the closest store to purchase clothing. The clerk gaped at them, well at Emily, wearing a man’s linen shirt without a bra and men’s linen pants with ill-fitting slippers. It was either the men’s clothing or some questionable attire left behind by some floozy of Robert’s. Of course the female clerk was staring at Colin in a different manner–like she wanted to lick him from head to toe. If that hussy didn’t knock if off, Emily was going to scratch her eyes out.
“Obviously she can see you just fine,” she huffed.
“It would look a bit strange if you were here by yourself talking to the air, they’d think you were daft. We can choose to allow people to see us. Don’t worry lass, she’s not my type—seems I like prickly Yanks.” The corner of Colin’s mouth quirked up.
The clerk simpered over to Colin, fussing over him, asking what she could do for him, anything at all. The bitch—batting her lashes, tugging her neckline down to show off her considerable cleavage, puckering her overblown lips. She had a lot to show, looked like one of those women who thought they could get ahead in life or at work by showing the girls. As a mark in Colin’s favor, he seemed not to notice; telling the simpering idiot Emily needed assistance. He told the clerk some bald-faced lie of how they’d been mugged and lost the luggage while putting his arm around Emily to show the clerk he was taken.
Momentarily appeased, she let the girl lead her off to the dressing room.
“I’ll pick up a few things ye’ll need while you’re trying on your wee clothes.” Colin picked up a change of socks, gloves, a scarf, hat, a coat in soft dove gray to match her eyes, and a duffel bag to put it all in. The temperature was dropping fast. Changes in temperature didn’t bother Walkers, one of the bennies but it looked strange if they were visible and people saw them walking around in a tee shirt in the snow.
He usually went invisi—what no one told you, you found out the hard way, going invisible took energy, not very much but you didn’t want to be caught after a long day slaying Walkers, close to dark, at your lowest power by a pack of those miserable bastards. They healed and recharged at night, right before sunset was their weakest time. For Day Walkers, was the opposite—right before sunrise was their weakest time. During the short time of sunrise and sunset, all Walkers were powerless, a sort of leveling of the playing field—you had only your skills to rely on, which he didn’t mind as he liked kicking ass, was damn good at it.
Course being seen on purpose, you had to stop and think sometimes when a lovely lady gave you the eye or were in a bar, picking up company for the night, to remember you had willed it, not get all girly thinking she might be a cursebreaker.
It was supposed to start snowing, earlier this year than the last…he’d seen firsthand the changes from global warming. Colin wanted to make sure they were prepared in case they had to hole up at Ravensmore for a few days.
There would be food there, his staff needing to eat. Didn’t need clothes for him, normally used energy to manifest clothing as needed. Emily came out dressed in jeans and a heavy white fisherman’s sweater. The thick wool socks and warm boots he picked out looked nice on her.
Handing his credit card over to the sales clerk, he hurried her along, “Are you finally done trying on clothes? We need to grab lunch and hit the road.”
“Okay grouchy gus. It takes women longer. I didn’t expect you to pay for this stuff. I have my own money. The bank is wiring funds to the hotel for me.”
He cut her off, “Emily, that’s the problem with you modern-day women, always wanting to show you can pay your own way. I know you can, I want to do this for you…so say ‘thanks’ and let’s move on, shall we?”
“Thank you, Colin.”
Stopping in a pub for lunch, they were seated by the fire as they looked over the menu. Their waitress, an older stout woman with gray hair and kind eyes took their orders. “It’s cold outside, lass, ye need to fortify yourself, best to have a nip o’whisky with your tea to keep ye warm.”
Laughing she agreed and ordered the fish and chips. Colin had two burgers with fries and ale. A fire was crackling in the large fireplace; he watched Emily warm her hands, letting the heat work its way through her bones. “How are your legs not cold in that kilt? It’s so cold outside I swear icicles are forming on the ends of my hair.”
“We don’t feel cold or hot, temperature doesn’t bother us. I grew up wearing kilts, my legs never did get cold,” he shrugged.
“Did you notice all the missing persons flyers posted around town? I saw them in Edinburgh as well. I know there’s usually more crime in bigger cities but seems like an extraordinary amount of people missing. Know what else is really weird? There doesn’t seem to be the same homeless problem here that I’ve seen in other cities.”
“Aye, we’ve been talking about it. It’s happening all over—Scotland, England, Ireland, Wales, Greece, France, and Italy. There’s bound to be more we haven’t heard of yet.” He frowned, thinking of the missing—not only the ones on the flyers but the street people. Didn’t seem to be a corresponding increase in Day Walkers so he wasn’t sure what was going on but he’d planned to ask Thorne the next time he saw him. The god appeared whenever it pleased him, off doing god stuff he supposed.
Finishing lunch, they came outside to snow falling. Emily laughed, twirling around. Colin shook his head—she found joy in the simplest of things, it was refreshing, like the crisp smell of evergreens in a wooded snowy forest.
“What? We don’t get snow in Charleston. I’ll meet you at the rental car place, I want to fill our thermos with hot chocolate and pick up snacks for the drive.” He laughed, she had to have road trip food and drink, looked at him in horror when he’d asked why. She told him it was fun to take a road trip to a planned or unplanned destination, singing to the radio, eating junk, and enjoying the scenery.
Nodding to her, he handed her a wad of cash and strode off to rent the car.
Emily had seen a bakery and convenience store down a side street they’d passed on their walk from the harbor. Pulling the cash Colin had given her out of the deep coat pockets, she had a pang of sadness—even her Lilly Pulitzer purse and wallet had been destroyed in the tunnel. She hit the mom and pop convenience store first, stocking up on all kinds of road trip goodies. It was tragic Colin hadn’t taken road trips for fun; he was so serious, always fighting evil, saving the day, the man needed to have a bit of silliness and fun. She’d show him there were good parts of the world, you simply had to look a bit harder nowadays. The bakery had some scrumptious-looking cake, tarts, potato pies, and cookies. Not knowing what he preferred, she bought some of each. The proprietor was happy to fill the thermos with hot chocolate; they wouldn’t fill your own container in the states, very strict rules regarding sanitation and all that crud. Here in Scotland, safety seemed to be “use commonsense,” and they were a bit more laid-back, nice change from home.
Walking towards the rental place, she wondered how her brother was doing. She made a quick call on her disposable phone and left a message letting him know she was fine, having a great time on vacation. He was away on a deep sea fishing tournament, and they hadn’t talked in a couple of weeks. It wasn’t unusual for them to go a few weeks at a time without touching base, but they always knew they were there for each other and both always made sure to leave some way to get in touch if any kind of emergency cropped up.
Spotting Colin, her mouth hit the snowy ground…she’d expected your average rental or maybe an SUV, but this…not only was it totally impractical, but it couldn’t be great to drive in the snow, could it?…boys and their toys. She rolled her eyes. It was a midnight-blue Porsche. Well, this was certainly discreet…not. He seemed so pleased, she didn’t have the heart to tell him how crazy she thought he was, vowing not to say “I told you so” when they got stuck. Emily wondered if she should buy more snacks and beverages, heck maybe a down comforter…on second thought, they’d be lucky to fit in what they had with them, into the small trunk of this machine…it was beautiful, imp
ractical, but oh yes, gorgeous, she thought opening the door, smelling the leather interior.
Loading up the car, they headed towards Ravensmore. “Hmmrph, do you think you bought enough ‘road trip snacks’? Granted we won’t arrive until after dinner, but I don’t think we’ll starve by then, lass. I may be powerless and require food but I think we could feed half of Scotland on what you purchased.”
Smacking his arm, she sniffed, “You’ll be happy when your stomach rumbles in an hour or so. Anyway, it’s snowing harder. We could get stuck and then you’ll be grateful I have plenty of snacks. One should always be prepared on a road trip. So not only do we have snacks, we have bottled water, hot chocolate, potato pies, sandwiches, and a wool blanket. Don’t look at me like that, the blanket is a gift for my brother, but if we get stuck, I hate to be cold.”
“Lass, I dinna know whether to be offended or laugh…do ye really think I’d let us be stranded? But if it makes you happy to have provisions, by all means. Cars and horses aren’t so very different.”
“I didn’t know you could rent a Porsche, especially in this weather. It looks and smells brand new. I love the smell of a new car.” She groaned, sinking back into the leather seats, which by the way, were heated, hello.
Looking over at her, he came clean. “Well, that’s because it is new, it’s not a rental—Gus keeps a car for me at his place in case I need it.”
“Um, exactly how many cars do you have that you can leave them waiting at various ports of call? And why do you need cars, can’t you just ‘pop’ wherever you want?”
Chuckling, he shifted, picking up speed, navigating the roads with ease. She didn’t cover her eyes but snow made her nervous. Weren’t the weather people always telling everyone to stay home when it snowed?
“Don’t be nervous. I’ve been driving on snow covered roads since cars were invented. To answer your question, a lot…I have a lot of cars. I used to have lots of horses, the finest breeds, now it’s cars. I like the high-performance ones best. And no, I don’t ‘need’ them, but I have quite a fondness for them. While I dematerialize frequently, sometimes I like to drive, enjoy the feel of the road, the sound of the engine.” Seeing her expression, he told her, “Don’t worry, I won’t talk about cars the entire way. I need to make one quick stop before dark.”
Lost in Shadow (A Shadow Walkers Ghost Novel) Page 15
