Dance of Ashes and Smoke (Age of Monsters Book 1)

by Harley Gordon

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 Harley Gordon

  Cover photos: Bigstockphoto/contributor/prometeus

  Bigstockphoto/contributor/Sergey Nivens

  Bigstockphoto/contributor/bondsza

  Bigstockphoto/contributor/Zdanchuk Svetlana

  Cover art by Madeline Oliver and Harley Gordon

  Interior Formatting by Caitlin Greer

  Editing by Tamara Mataya

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews.

  for my soldier

  It had been over a year since the monsters crawled out from under our beds. Eight months since the war ended. TS Eliot was full of it. The world didn’t end with a whimper, it clashed with the bangs of death, screams, blood, teeth.

  The whimper came long after, followed by a terrible hush, like the entire world held its breath.

  I’d held my breath since my parents died, in their fight against the sorceress who led the charge against our town. Since they ripped us from our homes and turned us into slaves for the monster’s amusement and food. I’d breathe again when they were banished back to hell, every single one.

  I was more of a Dylan Thomas girl anyway, full of rage against the night, against the dying light.

  With a yank on the hem of my too-short cream dress and a quick whispered prayer, I stepped out onto the stage, and waited for the curtain to rise. Olivia sat in the corner, her cello tucked between her legs, bow poised and ready to rake it across the strings. Roxy huddled in the shadows seated at her drum kit.

  The curtain rose, the spotlight blinded me, seared my corneas. Olivia began the song, and I tried to lose myself in the music as my body responded to each note. The horrors of our lives fell away and left only the soft beat of the bass drum pulsing through me and the song bursting through in each movement of my feet, each arch of my arms. It was almost like I floated above the stage, wrapped in the smoke pumping from the machines behind me.

  I was glad the spotlight blinded me from seeing the crowd.

  But the whimpers and screams and begs for mercy still reached me. The crunch of bone, the cackling laughter, the jeers. Maybe the world hadn’t ended, maybe I’d died and this is hell.

  The song came to an end, segueing with fluidity into the next. We had four more dances before the singer took over as the next act. Olivia and I were lucky to get performance jobs. It was better than being a bloodbag or personal servant to a monster. At least we were doing something we loved as much as we hated sharing our gifts with them.

  We’d lived this nightmare so long, I’d forgotten what life was like before. What fun was, what freedom was, what hope was.

  At the end of the last song, the curtain fell, giving us one precious moment alone to stare at each other in helplessness as the music faded away and left us empty.

  Olivia and I hurried to the closet we used as a dressing room, wanting out of there as soon as possible. If we lingered after a show, we could get caught up in blood and magic, regardless of the stamp on our papers.

  I slid on my green leggings underneath the dress and yanked on my leather jacket and fingerless gloves. Before she replaced her cello back inside the case, Olivia lifted the top of the hidden compartment and pulled out our weapons.

  It was our night to hunt monsters.

  To try and keep the other humans safe until dawn.

  To continue taking them down, one by one.

  I slid my short sword into the scabbard Olivia had rigged up for me inside my jacket. My knife already hung between my breasts from a long necklace. The bows and arrows we left inside the cello case, nowhere to hide them, the bows a last resort.

  Armed and properly clothed, we waded into the pulsing beat and bodies, trying to keep our eyes and heads down. The monsters had turned one of the churches into a club, swirling with dark magic and flowing with blood. They left a few of the pews, but ripped them from the floor and placed them into sections. The light of the full moon streamed through the stained glass, fracturing and turning everything the colors of raspberries and wine with streaks of lilac.

  In one of the sections, a small brood of vampires lounged on the pillow-lined pews, fangs sunk into the wrists and necks of their human bloodbags. Anyone without a useful skill was forced to feed the monsters; anyone who wanted special favors offered themselves up. We were careful not to meet the eyes of any of them as we slid by humans who spun, caught in the web of a spell soaking them. Dancers gyrated against each other, shifters changed between their false human bodies and the monsters lying beneath the surface.

  Blood and wine sloshed in goblets on top of silver platters passed through the crowd by human waiters, the glasses rattling against the metal trays, showcasing their nervousness. My heart skittered as well, every night we pushed our way through, praying to make it unmolested and unhindered. So far, they’d enjoyed our performances enough to leave us alone, but we walked a blade’s edge. Constantly.

  The vampire who ran the Nightmare Council wasn’t in attendance, which smoothed a little tension from my shoulders. Those of us who were part of the Uprising had nicknamed them. A mix of vampires, shifters, and magics ruled over every city still standing.

  At last, we made it to the relative safety outside. I took deep gulps of air, relieved to be away from the thick cloying smoke of the club. It always reeked of burnt Crème brûlée.

  The streets whistled with wind slicing through the empty streets, the sidewalks damp and glistening with the melting snow we’d gotten two days before. Streets that once teemed with people bustling from shop to shop now danced with shadows and whistling wind, a majestic city brought to ruins. The moonlight reflected off the wet streets, and I shivered at the big, beautiful full moon.

  This night belonged to the wolves.

  And it was our night to patrol our sector, keeping everyone safe.

  The whole city was beaten and broken down, and few remained who still resisted. We were part of the few. Our lives nothing but work, training, and patrol.

  No more school, no more homes, no more life at Juilliard.

  It was late enough by then, most of the monsters headed to bed, the sky lightening the slightest bit, heralding dawn. But werewolves had no control at the peak of the full moon, no logic or reason, and I refused to be dog meat.

  We didn’t chat as we started the trek to the outer perimeter, wishing for the motorcycles that were locked up and hidden in an abandoned parking garage. Humans weren’t allowed transport, we had to walk everywhere even if it was several miles. The shops were closing down, most humans on the same schedules as the monsters, sleeping through the day, awake through the night.

  Inside the park, the hair rose on the back of my neck at the way there were no noises scattering through the trees or bushes. Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. I snickered to myself at the random and rather inappropriate thought. We walked as far as we could to the sizzling fence trapping us inside the city. I sent longing glances towards the world outside.

  We only got news from there through hidden message boards set up by the cells of the Uprising across the country. And it was as bad and worse for those still left alive outside our city.

  As we
stayed along the perimeter, we took out our crossbows and continued through the park. Our boots squelched in mud, leaves, and pine needles, and prickly vines grasped at us with sharp black fingers. The snow had made a mess of the ground.

  A scream and ripping, snarling growls shattered the silence.

  Olivia hid her cello in some brush, and after retrieving the arrows, we took off towards the sound. My heart pounded in time with my racing steps, my body vibrated and pulsed with each footfall. A chilled, misty rain began, soaking us through.

  If the Council caught us fighting monsters, we’d be executed. At best. “We leave no survivors.”

  Olivia puffed out short breaths. “I know.”

  We broke through the trees into a clearing and skidded to a stop at the sight. A ring of werewolves circled a guy about our age who shielded a young girl from the monsters, her shrieks loud in the cold night.

  Fire raced through my veins, warming me as I raced right at them. The wolves wheeled towards us, growling and snarling, drool dripping from their teeth.

  I leapt onto a boulder, flying high in the air, and brought my sword down on the wolf snapping at heels. My blade cut through fur, skin, and flesh down to the bone. I grinned at its scream.

  Blood, rain, and wind flowed free as I twirled and spun, my blade slicing into the flanks and throats of the massive mongrels. Olivia remained at the edge of the fray, picking them off with her bow.

  All at once, I was alone, left with a heaving chest, my hands and face slick with blood and rain. As I caught my breath, I heard only the trickle of rain and rustling leaves. I stared down at the carnage surrounding me, my trembling arms lowered my sword.

  For months and months, I’d forced myself through training and this was my first true fight on such a level. It had been too easy.

  I turned my attention to the guy and the child. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded as he clutched the sobbing child. “Yes. We’re fine. Thank you.”

  Olivia jogged over as she ripped her arrows from the carcasses. They were too precious of a commodity to leave behind. Before I opened my mouth to threaten the guy to ensure his silence, flapping wings overhead stopped me.

  I tilted my head to peer into the sky and bit back a scream of rage at the Jersey Devil who circled above us. My body ached, and I wanted to go to sleep, not deal with another monster.

  The guy put the child on her feet and pushed her in the direction of the city. “Run home. Stop for nothing.”

  The smart kid obeyed without argument or question and darted away from the trees.

  I speared him with a sharp glance. “Stay out of our way. Or go after her.” I didn’t wait for a response, instead I jumped past the dead dogs and brought my sword up, readying myself for a bigger fight.

  The monster let out a piercing shriek as it dove for us, his thin eggplant-colored wings flapped, keeping his skeletal body alight.

  I breathed out slowly and readied my sword as Olivia took aim and fired. The monster screamed at the new hole in his wing, screaming more as he spiraled towards the ground and hit it with slap.

  I’ve always hated eggplants.

  I raced towards it, trusting Olivia to cover me. We’d run drills like this dozens of times, but I didn’t make it in time to keep it down.

  It rose to its feet, shrieking at me in fury. Olivia’s shot went wide, missing it. I was too close to get a shot off, so I threw the crossbow at the guy from my back, hoping he didn’t shoot me for my trouble.

  I grimaced as the devil and I circled each other. His injured wing hung useless as his other one flapped, desperately trying to pull himself back into the air. He sure was an ugly sucker—hooked horns grew from his head, a greasy mullet hung down his neck, claws extended from his gray fingers. I waited for him to make the first move, keeping my grip on the sword light and easy.

  It signaled its attack with yet another painful screech, but I was ready for it with a slice of my blade, enjoying its whimper of shocked pain. It brought its hooves up and landed a lucky hit across my jaw, but my sword swiped across the back of its leg, snipping its tendons. Its cries and moans of pain fueled me, tempted me to keep playing with it. It tried to whip me with its long jagged tail, but I grabbed it, using the momentum to swing up onto its back, holding on for dear life as it jerked about, trying to knock me off.

  Our screams joined as the spikes on the back of its neck cut into my hands. The guy was right under its hooves, but the crossbow hung at his side, the idiot. I couldn’t get a line of sight on Olivia.

  “Shoot him!” The guy didn’t seem to realize I was yelling at him. Wincing with pain as blood streamed from my hands, I hauled myself up farther along its back, the handle of the sword slippery with my blood.

  An arrow sliced through its other wing and the devil bucked and jerked beneath me as I clung to its leathery skin. I continued my centimeter by centimeter climb, hoping Olivia got a better shot off next time. This wasn’t as easy as the movies always made it look and my hands had a million tiny daggers of fire sinking into them.

  Tears streamed from my eyes when I reached the top of its neck, getting one arm wrapped around it as the blasted monster tried even harder to buck me off, its hooves punching the air. I whipped my other hand around to slice its neck, but with once last ferocious buck, the sword flew from my hand to the ground and I fell off, only hanging by one bloody hand.

  Olivia appeared below us, hair flying as she stood her ground and pointed the crossbow right at me.

  She fired and it went wide. Again.

  I screamed in rage and pain, my shoulder probably out of joint.

  She ripped my crossbow from the useless guy’s hand and fired. This time it went straight to the monster’s heart, and we crashed to the ground. I rolled away to keep from getting impaled by its horns, dazed, unable to do more than lie there breathing through the pain radiating up and down my spine and out through my limbs.

  Olivia shot it once more just to be safe before she raced over.

  She squatted beside me, her muddy, red combat boots almost trampling over my face. “Are you okay?”

  I groaned, sitting up with her help. “I think so. That was pretty badass shooting.”

  She snorted. “Sure. After missing twice.”

  I shoved her worried hands away, tired of the inspection. “You saved my life.”

  She tutted like a worried mother hen. “Not fast enough. Your poor hands.”

  “Perhaps I can help with that.” The guy we saved approached us, blinding me with a charming smile and eyes the color of my favorite forest. Dark brown curls tumbled around his face, falling from a man bun.

  I must have hit my head in the fall. “Oh, you want to help now? You sure were plenty of help standing there with a weapon and doing absolutely nothing with it.”

  He raised a brow. “Well, I’ve never shot a bow before, so it didn’t seem like the best idea with you in the line of fire riding on his back like some sort of cowgirl.”

  Scowling, I snorted. “In this world I’d say it was time for you to learn.”

  “I’m not big on weapons.”

  “Which is why you needed two girls to save your ass, eh?”

  He shrugged and flashed his charming smile again. “I guess I should stick with the two of you then. To keep me safe.”

  “And why would we want you around?”

  He took my hands in one of his while his other reached into the pocket on his jacket, pulling out what looked like a bag of weed. I tried to pull away, but he held on tight. “Relax. I’m a fairly good healer.”

  “I have no interest in any magical herbs.”

  He scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s nothing magical about these herbs. They grow in most gardens and you could buy them at Walmart.”

  I huffed a dramatic sigh when Olivia poked me in the back. “Fine.”

  His lips quirked into a smirk I had a hard time looking away from. He was older than us, but not by much, cheekbones and jaw so sharp they’d cut gla
ss.

  The searing pain as he peeled off my shredded gloves from my equally shredded hands shut me up, the adrenaline from the fight melted away and left me gasping.

  My heartbeat pounded in my palms, pushed more blood out. I held back a scream when he unearthed a bottle of vodka and poured it across my wounds. It was like he’d ripped four layers of skin off. I tried to fight the tears pooling in my eyes, but a few escaped.

  He murmured a couple words in a foreign language, his eyes warm with sympathy, the color lightening. “My name is Jackson Colt by the way.”

  “Monet Black. And that’s Olivia Carmine.” I jerked my head toward where she paced back and forth, refusing to look at us. “She doesn’t do well with injuries.”

  “All the more reason to keep me around.”

  The pain was too strong for me to respond with anything other than a hiss.

  He kept chatting, his foreign accent wrapping around me like a warm blanket. I’d always been a sucker for accents. I looked away from whatever he did to my hands, worried about how I would explain injured hands when I showed up at my performance the next day. A strange numbing sensation spread from my fingers to my elbows, washing most of the pain away.

  Able to focus again, I jerked my head around, fear we’d get caught shivering through me. “We need to get out of here. The fight will have drawn attention and if we’re caught, we’re dead.”

  He grabbed my chin and turned my face to his. “I’m done. And don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

  Shoving away my scattered thoughts, I shot him my evilest grin. “It better be.”

  He helped me to my feet and Olivia took my arm, but I shrugged away from both of them. “I’m fine. I didn’t hurt my legs.”

  I still had an Uprising meeting to host tonight.

  I should have taken a shot of the vodka when I’d had the chance.

  Alcott was already at the apartment when we returned. His eyes narrowed immediately at my bandaged hands and soaked, muddy clothes.