by C Bilici
“Aww, come on. He’s pretty.”
Fenton scowled. “Well, hopefully you won’t object if we let him take the vanguard?”
“Someone has to be cannon fodder,” Stacey said as she stared at the blond man’s rear openly, biting her lip.
Komi chuckled. “She reminds me of you, Fenton.”
“I’ll let you know later if I feel insulted or complimented,” Stacey said, her tone dry.
The Scandinavian and two other enforcers disappeared from sight one by one. “See you on the other side,” Komi said, following after them with a sad smile.
Fenton offered Stacey his hand and told her to lead. She took them to the Nexus, then visualised the club, as he’d taught her. She extended her senses, feeling for the presence of the other Wards and the surroundings so she wouldn’t materialise them within anything, instantly killing them. They flipped from the Nexus, straight into hell.
* * *
Stacey tried to find her bearings, but all she saw was destruction, blood and viscera.
It took her a few moments to realise they had arrived exactly where she had pictured, the reception area of the club. The clue that led her to the realisation was the uptight receptionist’s scalped hair sitting on what remained of her padded desk. Her hair was still neat and tidy, despite that the rest of her seemed to be missing. The padding of her station was in tatters. She quickly looked away from the hair and its makeshift bust of debris, only to find patches of red latex caked in gore wherever her eyes seemed to fall.
Stacey’s stomach spasmed. Her oesophagus tightened in an attempt to hold its contents, but her gut contracted regardless. She ran for the doorway. As she fell through the door, she realised her error. In her panic she entered the inner sanctum of the club rather than exiting. Her mistake didn’t hold her attention for long, another sight commanding her full attention as she crossed the threshold.
A fat, naked man in his fifties was strapped on a bondage frame. It looked like it had been put in the hall for aesthetic rather than functional purposes. Someone had put it to use, though. They’d decorated frame and man with his own guts, hung like streamers.
Stacey decorated the corner with the contents of hers.
Even the Enforcers that entered after her seemed to have trouble with the disembowelled man. Everyone but Fenton.
He walked calmly into the corridor. He held his nose from the stench when it became too bad but that was the extent of it. He patted her on the back as he passed by her.
Was he checking on her? She didn’t hear him say anything, but her ears were still ringing from the shock and pressure of violent vomiting. It was all she could do to hold her thumb up to him to indicate she’d be okay, then swap that for one finger to say she may need a minute as more bile rose.
She was really getting tired of throwing up.
When she could finally look, she saw Fenton inspecting the body of the man on the frame above her. Stacey attempted to regain her composure, but the sight made it hard. She focused on what was important and pushed thoughts of sickness to the back of her mind. She had to see him — it — for what it was. Dead meat. But also possible clues.
Fenton looked over the flap of his stomach, hung outward as if he’d been ripped open from the inside, she thought. His blood soaked penis hung flaccid, framed by the folds of his abdomen, which in life had probably served to hide the thing due to his substantial weight.
Fenton moved on along the hall, and she rose to follow, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. The ceiling above was made of black cloth, shifting from a draft. In essence, the place was a converted factory, all concrete construction and metal roof. The decor masked it all, or in the case of the first room Fenton entered, exposed it, setting an industrial mood.
The room was bare concrete and steel fixtures, but Stacey hardly saw it as she stepped into the room behind Fenton.
The scene was much the same as outside, but here there were two bodies. A man and woman, posed like dolls.
“I don’t know him,” Fenton’s voice croaked. “Her, however…” He shook his head. “One of Ianka’s mistresses, Nancy. She like to go by Mistress Nastya.”
There was nothing at all dominating in the grim tableau or demeaning way in which they had been set, or the simulated act on her. Stacey saw Fenton’s mouth turn down in anger and distaste. There was nothing else for him to see here apparently so he moved on, much to Stacey’s short lived relief.
The horror only escalated in the next room.
Another woman and man. Fenton said he couldn’t tell who she was, and Stacey couldn’t blame him. Her face was so badly mutilated she doubted anyone would. The man was muscular, attractive and young.
“He’s one of Ianka’s. Harry. He was quite popular, apparently, since the rise in interest through popular fiction. Ianka called him her slap and tickler.” Fenton gave a sad snort of a laugh.
Stacey swallowed around what felt like sand in her throat but still couldn’t talk.
Harry’s hands and feet had been severed, the stumps stripped back to expose bone, which penetrated the woman’s flesh in ways which never could have in life. The appendages, the real tools of his trade, were nowhere in sight.
The next room was a massacre, a number of bodies pinned to the walls like splayed butterflies, their skin and organs peeled out to emulate those displays. Stacey thought she knew what had happened to Harry’s missing parts as there seemed to be an abundance of hands and feet around her.
Fenton couldn’t recognise a single one of the people within.
They left the room. Stacey knew exactly where they would find Ianka, but they searched the last room anyway. It was a slaughterhouse, literally. There was no pretence at any sort, just simple and horrific butchery, as if the Shadow Man had been having a tantrum. Or perhaps that was the theme, each room a sick canvas of varying styles.
Fenton paused at the office door at the end of the hall, fists clenched. Once the door was open, he moved aside after a moment and allowed Stacey in.
Serene in her high back chair, Ianka’s body was clean, almost poised. Stacey assumed it would normally be quite a difficult task to accomplish without a head, and wondered if the woman died the same way.
Despite her decapitation, there was no blood on her clothing or the surrounding area. The Umbra, being what they were, Stacey imagined the Shadow Man had thought up a way to accomplish the feat.
Ianka’s head was another story entirely.
It sat on the edge of the desk close to its body, facing forward. Her mouth was open, eyes wide in terror. Blood flecked the pale skin of her face, her lips. Paper covered the surface of the desk, a red scrawl across it that looked to have been finger painted. Stacey knew the style well.
Fenton’s body tightened and shook in rage as he read.
Dear Fenton,
I thought you might like a headjob to go.
♥ The Shadow Man.
The message was signed with an actual heart atop the stylised symbol. Stacey knew it was Ianka’s. There would be no point to the display if it wasn’t, though there was no outward sign of its extraction.
With a growl, Fenton scooped up a handful of the paper and squeezed it in his fist.
The message was personal. Meant to hurt and anger him. Throw him off balance. From everything he’d told her, the Umbra weren’t capable of such things. Copying was one thing, but this went far beyond that. This was…
She couldn’t think of any other word but human.
The Shadow Man was that after all. A man, of a sort.
He wasn’t some simple creature copying human actions, like the Japanese hot spring monkeys she’d seen on TV once. This was spiteful. An all too human trait.
Fenton moved to close Ianka’s vacant stare. As his hand neared, they rolled about in the sockets in his direction. Her lips quivered into a jagged facsimile of a smile.
Stacey watched as her ears bled, and spidery legs pushed from the canals with a sickening crunch and squelching as fle
sh and bone stretched and tore. Ianka’s tongue lolled from those spasming lips to lick at them as they fattened and spread apart. The eyelids batted coquettishly at him out of synchronisation.
Ianka’s head was a sickening, out of control puppet.
Fenton stepped back in disgust as the thing rocked about on the desk, the chitinous legs clicking on the hard surface. The soaked paper shifted and ripped in ragged patches as the thing lurched forward.
Stacey let out a yelp and blasted at the thing with an outstretched hand in panic. The shot was well wide, and far too close to Fenton, but he seemed to angry to notice or care. It had also missed the target, but took a chunk out of the desk.
“Get out.”
It was all Stacey heard before Fenton released his still clenched fist, fingers springing forward. Flames leapt from his palm to engulf the thing, desk, body and all.
The intense heat seared Stacey’s skin as she backed out of the room, watching intently until even he could no longer remain.
As they retreated, Stacey saw the burning head still moving on the table.
Fenton shoved the fistful of paper into a pocket, balled both hands, and rained fiery darts on it.
The head danced on legs that melted as it went. It recoiled from the attack, keening and screeching. The legs dropped off one by one until the thing rolled over and teetered off the desk. It hit the floor with a thud.
Walking ahead of him, Stacey watched as Fenton went room to room and set them ablaze. High-pitched animal cries of Umbra followed. She backed into the reception area as he doused the fat man on the frame, watched as the loose skin on his stomach shrunk and burned, lumps of fat melting. The taste and stench of burnt flesh clogged the back of her throat, but she stood fast.
Someone at her back held her shoulder.
“We must go before he comes in here,” Komi told her softly. The other enforcers seemed to be long gone.
Before she could protest, he whisked her to the Nexus, the smell of burnt wood, plastic and rendered fat following them. She turned on the enforcer, stopping dead as she saw his avatar next to hers. The half spider, half man was every bit a nightmare creature as Fenton had hinted at, though it seemed to look on them benevolently. She spun again as she felt a movement behind her and caught a stronger source of the same scent.
Fenton was covered in scorch marks and soot. Godfrey had appeared with him, eyes and mouth still blazing.
Fenton didn’t say a word and the knight, fires now diminished, stood with head bowed, sword tip to the ground, hands on the cross guard in what seemed to be respect for the fallen.
“Fenton…” Stacey said, but didn’t know how to finish. She sighed and closed her mouth.
“I know what they’re after,” he said, looking not at her but through her. “It’s not you. They were never after you.” He sounded harsh, blaming himself by the sound of his voice.
“What do you mean? They came after me, followed me.” She shook her head in confusion.
Fenton pulled out the blood soiled paper from his pocket and shoved it into her hands. Stacey smoothed out the wad, then flipped through the pages in a confused panic.
“This is Jasper’s notebook.”
“He took it. That’s why I couldn’t find it.”
“Wait. You’re saying he’s after Jasper, not me? But why? And why would he come here?”
“Because you were with her. It wasn’t your scent they tracked. It was hers on you.” He looked away angrily. “On us.”
“Wait, what?” Stacey shook her head.
“Ianka came with me when I was retrieving that.” He waved his hand at the pages. “We used her bed. And the Shadow Man tracked Ianka to her club.”
“That still doesn’t explain why.”
“I don’t know why!” Fenton yelled. “I just know he did.”
Stacey looked over her shoulder as the spider avatar made a chittering noise.
“Anansi is right. I know this writing.” Komi screwed his eyes in concentration. “I just can’t put my finger on it.” Anansi spoke again and Komi’s eyes widened. “No. It can not be.”
“What?” Stacey said, getting more alarmed and annoyed by the moment. “What can’t it be?”
“It is Mhyrr.”
“That’s not possible.” Fenton said, his voice hoarse with anger.
“Nevertheless, my friend, it is Mhyrr.”
“Damn it all!” Fenton walked away, running at his hair.
“I get that you’re pissed and everything, but nothing the two of you are saying makes any fucking sense.” Stacey looked back and forth between them. “A mere what?”
He looked to Stacey angrily. “Your girlfriend’s a bloody Mhyrr!”
They returned to the Enclave temple and the pages lay stretched out on the table, the Cardinals gathered over them. The enforcers milled about in a corner, eyeing Fenton strangely and giving him a wide berth.
Meanwhile Fenton was in silent contemplation. All Stacey could do was watch and listen, fidgeting until she could hold on no longer. “Is someone going to tell me what the fuck’s going on?” she rasped in an angry whisper. “You both keep saying the same shit but it means nothing to me. Jasper’s a mere what?”
“Note mere, as in less than,” Fenton barked.
“What’s he going on about,” she said to Komi, hoping for a sane answer.
“Mhyrr is one of the five realms.”
“OK. So?”
Komi thought on it a moment before continuing. “Another name for female from old English is maid.”
He was prompting her she could tell, but she wasn’t making the connection.
“And?” she sneered. Then frowned.
Komi nodded in response.
“Fuck off.” Stacey snorted. “Jasper’s a mermaid?”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE OLD WARD Leigh clapped several times for silence, the slap of skin echoing around the chamber. The Cardinals stood from their chairs. Each leant forward and placed their hands on the table either side of the compass point carved into it.
Stacey watched in confusion, still reeling from the revelation dumped on her. “What’s going on?”
Komi held a finger to his lips and she fell silent.
Black liquid pooled beneath each of the Cardinals hands, running along the compass points to overflowing. Stacey was sure it was Umbra ink, but she couldn’t see how it was being done, let alone why. Perhaps it was something only a Cardinal could do, or it was part of the table itself.
Whatever the cause, the effect was striking as the etchings in the stone surface came into stark detail. Finer markings she hadn’t seen were also revealed as the stuff spread, creeping out until all four sources joined. When the black lines touched and the circuit completed, a pressure wave released outward like a shockwave, felt but not seen.
Stacey gasped as it passed through her body. She watched in awe as the ink glowed. Additional sets of compass points faded into view, overlaid on the table in line with the smaller marks between the Cardinal points. Ghostly visages followed, standing spread out between the Cardinals..
The Cardinals, Stacey realised, had just opened an intergalactic conference call.
She studied the alien Cardinals as the images took greater form, but was disappointed as they appeared. They were all practically human. Only subtle differences separated them from her own kind, mostly in skin tone and features, but still not as alien as she had hoped.
One group of four were tinged red and sported multiple horn like protrusions in patterns running from the bridges of the noses upwards. Not true horns like a goats, the bumps were more reptilian, squat and almost geometric diamond shapes.
Another group did look reptilian, their eyes gold and yellow, skin cool blue-green, hair thick strands of dark greens and browns, but still not that different from human.
Another group looked indistinguishable from human. They had to be the Mhyrr. Like Jasper, if Komi and Fenton were right.
The last group were the mo
st apart. At first she couldn’t quite put her finger on how. Their eyes were large and dark, much like movie aliens, but the similarity ended there. Some had long strands of sparse, shiny hair, others a furry down on their heads. Skin colour varied among the group, but all were greys and browns. They shared similar traits but she would have sworn they were of different species. Despite their weirdness they still weren’t as freaky as Komi’s half-man-spider avatar.
Then she knew. They were insect or arachnoid — perhaps a mix of both.
She also now knew why the table had to be so big. Twenty Cardinals gathered around, physically present or not, it took a lot of space.
The American Cardinal, who had addressed the enforcer’s before their horrific trip to Ianka’s, broke the silence. Stacey guessed that made him the head honcho of Earth.
“I welcome you all, brothers and sisters, to this emergency session of the five.”
One of the red-skinned Cardinals, a female, spoke up. “What is the emergency, Gary?”
Stacey choked down a chuckle. “Gary.” He did not look like a Gary, and the name had always amused her, making her think of cartoon snails. Her laughter urned to confusion once more. She looked to Fenton, who was staring over the twenty figures. “They all speak English?”
He waved his hand in her general direction without looking and pointed at the table.
Every Cardinal, including the newcomers, had their hands on the stone. Clearly there was some sort of Ward magic at work providing translation.
They had been filled in at a high level of detail, Stacey only half listening already knowing the story.
“You’ve proof of this?” someone at the table said.
“Yes.” Despina’s voice rang out. “The Mhyrr sent an unsanctioned agent to Earth, and the Umbra tracked that agent and caused several deaths, including that of Wards from my region.”
“This is quite unprecedented,” one of the reptilians said. She looked to each of the Mhyrr. “What have you to say?”
The Mhyrr looked uncomfortably at one another before their appointed spokesperson, an attractive older man, spoke up. Stacey realised all the Mhyrr were very attractive. Like Jasper.
