by Al K. Line
Two ghouls were clawing at the windows to the fast food place where shoppers keen to get a head start on the day were consuming discount breakfasts. They began to bang on the glass, unable to understand why they couldn't get in. Then as I inched forward in traffic the door opened and a skinny dude wearing a tracksuit and cheap shoes, greasy hair tied in a ponytail, came out and started gesticulating wildly and shouting at them. They stared at him, then spied the open door he was holding, and made to barge past. He wasn't too happy at that and shoved them both, one after the other. They stumbled back into the pedestrianized area.
He shouted at them again and one of them spoke, although I couldn't hear what was said even with my window now down. Whatever it was, if it was even English, the guy didn't like it and he stormed over, pushed the ghoul over, and kicked him in the head, connecting with his jaw. The creature fell back and cracked its head but was up and up fast, long arms wrapping easily around the man's waist. They fell backward and the young man slammed his head down, hard. I heard the crack, and it seemed like the whole city fell silent as violence, all too common here, reared its ugly head.
Then it got freaky. The ghoul stared at the fallen man then at the mess of brains staining the new paving already covered in gum—why can't people throw it in the bin?—then bent and sniffed. It let out a primordial howl of joy and its comrade joined in, nostrils flaring.
The ghouls grabbed the spilled brains in malformed hands and licked tentatively. They wouldn't, would they?
A car beeped behind me and I glanced forward, noting that the road ahead was clear. I tore off, skidded around the corner, took a left, parked up on double yellow lines, then was out the car and back at the scene all within ten seconds.
The ghouls were bent over the dead man, smashing his body repeatedly against the ground, tearing at his skin, gouging his eyes and ripping his lips clean off. They were feeding, not glutinously but carefully, at odds with the frenzy of their attack. As I got close they both sat back on their haunches, their strange attire making the tableaux all the weirder.
People were screaming, staring in shock, nobody willing to go near them as this was too surreal, too nightmarish, too much like a movie for them to fully process what they were witnessing. Phones came out, some even made calls, while most recorded the scene with macabre detachment.
No, no, no. This couldn't get out, this couldn't happen.
Acting without thinking, I moved with all the speed of the vampire and snatched the phones from each and every one, knowing that at least the surveillance cameras were manned by our people, and as onlookers turned and accused the person next to them of stealing their phones I grabbed the remains of the man, slung him over my shoulder, and disappeared to my car. I dumped him in the back, returned and grabbed the ghouls in an instant. I had them back in the car before anyone even registered what was happening. The whole thing from start to finish had taken less than fifteen seconds.
I drove off, knowing I'd left one hell of a mess behind and the police would arrive within minutes. I could have missed a phone, or any number of things could have gone awry, so I had to make a call, and fast.
"What? It better be good news," said Dancer.
"It isn't," I panted, my car stinking to high heaven, the ghouls coming around. "Hold on." I slammed an elbow back into the face of one, turned and punched the other in the side of the head, and they slumped back, out cold at last for a minute or two.
"What happened?" asked Dancer with a sigh, sounding beaten already.
"Two ghouls just killed a dude in the city center and started eating him. I think I got all the phones but I can't be certain. And you need to erase the CTTV. I've got the bodies, all three. What shall I do with them?"
"Bring them here, I'll sort the rest. You've got thirty seconds to get well away from there, it won't be pretty." Dancer hung up. I started the car, joined the main road, jumped the central aisle, drove the wrong way through traffic, and headed out of the city in the opposite direction to everyone else.
Exactly thirty seconds after Dancer hung up my car died. All the electronics failed. He'd got one of the wizards to wipe everything within the area, no records remaining, just the word of the crowd, but no bodies to confirm what they say they saw. Sure, the guy would be reported missing at some point, but cannibals in Cardiff at 9AM? Nah.
Little did they know.
And this was just the start of a terrible morning.
Old Skool
I sat there, not knowing what to do, then a few minutes later I turned at the sound of a car horn. Luckily, I was on a small side road, with only a few other bemused drivers hanging around outside their vehicles.
I got out as the car horn sounded again. As I did, a rusty VW camper van, belching fumes but running because it was pre digital, sidled up beside my car and a familiar face peered out of the window.
"Wanna lift? Head said you got some passengers for me?"
"Boy, am I glad to see you, Gavin."
"It'll cost you," he warned, smiling evilly as he wiggled a very hairy eyebrow. His stubby nose twitched, his long, thick beard covered most of his face, but by the movement of his rosy cheeks I knew he was smiling, probably rubbing his hands together, not that I could see because he was only four feet tall.
"Don't worry, Dancer's paying. Here, help me out." I opened the back door a little so he could see in, then he whistled and nodded. He reversed the VW then pulled up at an angle, blocking the view from anyone behind us, then we wasted no time loading the bodies into the back. It was cramped, but they fitted, although Gavin managed to slam the door on a ghoul's hand, causing it to moan loudly. He opened the door, adjusted the arm, then punched them both in the face. They would be out for some time. Dwarven taxi drivers are not to be messed with.
I grabbed my things, called Dancer and told him where the car was so he could arrange a tow, then we were off and I could breathe again.
"So, how're things?" asked Gavin as he headed away from the city as police and ambulances flashed their lights, sirens blaring. Not that the traffic, halted by the electrical cut out, could get out of the way.
"Seriously?" I nodded to the bodies in back.
"You know, apart from that. What's going on, anyway?"
"Just a spot of bother with the ghouls," I said, not knowing how much he knew already.
"I heard. I always liked the Chemist, he's a fellow lost soul."
"But you like it here, don't you, same as he did? Does." I reminded myself the Chemist wasn't dead yet, but he would be when I got my hands around his scrawny throat.
"Not like I've got much choice, is it? A dwarf allergic to gold isn't exactly welcome back home. Bunch of freaks think of nothing else. It gets boring, real boring, real quick. I make the best of it, got myself this sweet gig, meet lots of interesting people, do a few jobs for the Heads as the position changes hands, it's all good."
"Sounds perfect," I said wistfully.
"It isn't. It's hard as hell. I'm not with my own kind. If I could be, if I knew a way to reconcile the differences, then I would. I am a dwarf, after all." Gavin took a sharp right and I glared at him. "Sorry, thought you were in a rush."
"Not to die I'm not. Ease up, last thing we want is to be pulled over."
Gavin slowed and focused on the road. He was another Hidden stuck here, not because he couldn't make it home like the Chemist, but because the one thing all other dwarves lived for was like poison to him. Thus, he didn't understand the attraction, didn't spend every moment either dreaming of, or mining for gold. He had interests, and dwarves don't have interests, they have obsessions. One. So he stayed here, made the most of it, but just like we all would, he pined for contact with his own kind.
It brought home exactly what it must be like for the Chemist, but none of us would go to such extremes to be surrounded by our own, would we? Maybe, if we had the know-how.
We chatted as he drove, my stomach hurt again now I had nothing to occupy my mind, and I had to loosen my belt to feel c
omfortable. I hadn't even eaten. At the thought, my stomach rumbled and I knew I had to eat, not just for my sake but for the baby's too. I had to think about such things now, to focus, to ensure I got everything I should. Would that mean no more fry-ups at Madge's? Maybe I could go to Delilah's? I missed her. We'd had a nice chat what felt like years ago, it would be nice to go visit her again. Soon, I'd go soon.
Gavin skidded to a halt at Hidden HQ, the decommissioned nuclear bunker Dancer had converted. A strange, but smart choice for the country's magical base, albeit a rather morbid one.
"Bill Dancer, and thanks," I said as Gavin dumped the bodies outside the VW like they weighed nothing.
"Don't worry, I will," he chirped happily, then tugged at his beard as his eyes darted every which way.
"Something you want to say?" I asked, wondering if I was supposed to tip him or something.
"Don't be too hard on the Chemist. We've had a few chats over the years, he's a good guy."
"He was, now I'm not so sure."
"He's just a lost soul, Kate, same as we all are. It'll all work out," he said, suddenly sounding bright again.
"I hope so."
I stood next to the corpse of a man with the back of his head missing and half his face ripped off, two ghouls prone next to him, and watched Gavin drive off. One of the ghouls stirred so I smacked him hard in the head and he was still again.
A blackbird sang from the rise above the sunken door to the bunker; the air smelled fresh as I went to knock. The blackbird took fright and flew far away.
I wish I could too.
Welcome to Hell
I approached the thick steel door, the steep descent making me feel like I was entering a dungeon as usual. The air freshened, which brought if not a smile then a grim sense of wellbeing. The sensation of feeling trapped by the high banks and the curved rise above the door set into the hillside awakening the vampire within that craved to retreat somewhere cool and dark now it was daytime.
The door opened and a frazzled looking old wizard glanced at, then ignored me, before marching stoically up the path and hammering his long staff against the ground. He turned without looking and shuffled back inside with the three bodies floating behind him. He didn't even invite me in as the door began to close, so I slipped in behind him. Wizards sure do get grumpy as they age, shorter too. Plus they seem obsessed with hooded cloaks and staffs and long beards. Guess its the perks of the job or something.
Inside was worse than anything I'd expected, certainly the smell. As the wizard led the way with my prisoners, and the corpse, I was hit full-on with the stench of ghoul times a thousand. The air purifying system in the bunker had been changed by Dancer, hiring in outside help to update it to something super high-tech so that any accidents the magic users might have wouldn't contaminate the air too severely. It wasn't doing a very good job with ghoul juice.
The air was so thick you needed a spoon to get it into your lungs. Every few feet you were confronted with a piercing roar from the overhead vents as they clattered and banged, trying to remove the contamination and replace it with scrubbed air. It hardly made a difference even breathing in directly under the vents.
People rushed past in all directions as we hurried down the corridors, turning this way and that until I had no clue where I was or how to get out again. Everyone wore masks or covered their mouths with their clothes as they barged past to run into side rooms and slam the doors. People were harried and stressed and any enforcers I met looked disheveled and exhausted. Many were covered in clinging ectoplasm or things much more visceral, probably ghoul bits or gobbets of the flesh they had been found consuming.
Finally we came to a gated area, set up exactly like a prison. Magic sparkled from every surface. There was a guard in a small booth with a control panel, a series of doors with bars that led to the prison proper where I could see ghouls of all description lunging through the bars of their cells or cowering in corners. They were rammed in and creating a dense cloud of foulness that actually formed a mist in the enclosed space. Their feet appeared to be suspended a few millimeters above ground; guess they weren't able to escape that way.
The wizard nodded to the troll guard who pressed a button. The gate slid aside and the procession continued. Curious, and holding my breath, I followed.
At the far end of the corridor, past the cells containing ten ghouls apiece, the wizard stopped. He nodded back to the guard and the last door on the left was opened. Five ghouls pressed forward but bounced back when they hit a magical forcefield that sparkled silver and crackled loudly. As they hit the far wall, the protection dropped, the wizard swished his staff, and the two ghouls shot in then crashed to the concrete floor. Okay, almost, but it had the same effect.
With a grunt of satisfaction, seemingly immune to the smell, he stepped back and the cell closed. With a grim nod to me, he waited in front of a simple steel door. When it opened he walked through, the body, and me, trailing behind.
The door slammed closed and I found myself in a room with Dancer, the wizard, a corpse, and a bloody large furnace.
Dancer turned at our entry, face blank.
"You look terrible," I gasped, taking in his sunken eyes, disheveled hair, and dirty suit. Even his tie was askew, and his white shirt stained, and Dancer would rather lose a limb than look anything but smart and professional.
"You don't look so hot yourself," he replied, turning back to the furnace. He nodded at the old man and the door to the furnace opened, a raging fire burning even hotter as the wizard worked his magic.
The corpse slid in on a cushion of air, the body began to burn, and the door shut, making me wince. Without a word, the little dude left, leaving us alone.
"Yeah, it's been a long night. Ugh, and day yesterday. Sorry, I'm all out of whack. Can't think straight about the time."
"Then let me fill you in. You disappeared yesterday around lunch time, and have been out of contact until this morning. And in that time everything has gone to shit. Where were you?"
"I went to find the Chemist, but found the Elders instead. Paid them a little visit."
Dancer spun away from the furnace. "You went to their home? How?" He seemed genuinely curious, and some of the exhaustion disappeared. He loves all this stuff.
"They tricked me, wanted to talk. They really, and I mean really, want the Chemist stopped. Said their plan is no more ghouls, that they did a bad thing and such creatures should never have been created. They don't think it's right that they should suffer the way they do, be singled out and ridiculed or scorned. They want an end to it all."
"That's a bit extreme, but I see their point. Understand the reasoning."
"And they aren't happy about the Chemist taking up the mantle and creating ghouls. But there's more. These ghouls, they aren't like others. The Chemist is creating them here, from his body, and they belong here. He's trying to create a new race, to make so many of them that they'll be on a par with humans one day. He doesn't want to be a freak, he wants to fit in."
"And these new ghouls are hungry," said Dancer with a sigh. I nodded. "They are being let loose and their veils are hardly up to the task at all. He's created them all and the power it needs is too much for him. They are aberrations, freaks of the true sort, and there isn't enough magic to keep them as true Hidden. People will see, are seeing, and the ghouls are running wild."
"And the killing has started. They want feeding." I glanced at the furnace; the guy would be nothing but ash now.
"It has," agreed Dancer. "Since yesterday we've had a handful of incidents that we've had to cover up, murders and acts of cannibalism. Luckily, they've been in out of the way places, but this one, today, right in the city center, it's the beginning of the end unless we eradicate it, and fast. We have to find the Chemist. He needs dealing with."
"You mean kill him?" I asked with anger.
Dancer whirled to face me. "Yes, I mean kill him. This isn't some jolly jape, a bit of fun and excitement for you. Being an enforcer is a
serious job, with a lot of responsibility, not a lark while you get to blast magic and freak people out with your shiny teeth."
"I… I never said it was," I stammered.
Dancer raised a hand. "Please, don't insult me. I get it, I really do. Often this life is full of immense excitement and we get to play God, fling balls of fire, smash heads, have adventures, all that good stuff. I get that we're stuck in this magical madness because we want to be, because we like it, get off on it, need it. But there's a price to pay, and I don't just mean the pain."
"I know that," I said, insulted.
"Do you? We are tasked with protecting the city, the country, and the world. If things get out of hand in my Ward it will spread, and then everyone suffers. The Councils are a joke, I admit that freely, full of pompous old wizards with their stupid power struggles and their politics, but it isn't like that here, I'm not like that. This isn't a game any longer."
"Wow! Um, sorry?"
Dancer smiled and smoothed out his hair. "Me too. It's been a trying few days, I haven't slept, and my city is being destroyed. The fun part is over, Kate, now it's back down to reality with a fucking crash. There will be death, there will be pain, and there will be heartache. I know he's your friend, but he's gone too far. You either find a way to stop this, reverse the damage he's done, and ensure it never happens again, or there's only one fate awaiting him and his ghouls." Dancer nodded at the furnace.
My stomach cramped but I kept my face passive and remained upright. "I'll deal with it."
"You better."
I moved to the door, opened it, and Dancer said, "Oh, and congratulations. You and Faz will be great parents."
"Thanks." I closed the door, wishing I could have left my doubts in that infernal room, but they tagged along, same as usual.
