Midnight Falls (The Order of Shadows Book 2)

by Kit Hallows

  The day was cool, closer to winter than autumn; the leaves that crackled under my feet were dry, brown and dead. I walked for about an hour, then stopped for a rest.

  There'd been no signs of the crystal farm or anything else unusual aside from a few spirits that lurked, hidden amongst the tree trunks. I wasn't sure if they knew I was aware of their presence but I didn't bother them and they didn't bother me.

  The sun emerged from the cloud cover and golden spears of sunlight pierced through the dense branches. It must have looked quite picturesque but in that moment it had only served to emphasize just how much gloom had gathered in the woods. A murk far deeper than I'd expect to encounter at this time of day.

  I checked the map again. By my estimations I should have been close to the center of the grid I'd decided to search. There were a few subtle differences that distinguished this part of the forest from the other areas I'd seen. It was definitely older, the trees were larger and they wore heavy coats of moss. Many of the trunks were crooked or bent and the lichen on the overgrown trail was thick and springy. I felt a sense of darkness here, of things unseen. It was making me jumpy. I needed to make them visible, to know what I was dealing with. I unclipped the catch on my holster, grabbed a crystal from my pocket and absorbed its energy.

  Scattered tracks glowed amid the undergrowth.

  Wolf prints.

  Lots of wolf prints.

  As I stepped off the trail to examine them more closely, a howl echoed through the trees, low, mournful and chilling. I spun round, scanning the gloom. Eyes glinted in the shadows. They blinked slowly, then vanished, leaving only darkness behind.

  Another howl rang out, this one closer. I whirled round to try to get a fix on its direction.

  Then the sound of ragged breaths panted behind me.

  25

  My sword hummed as I pulled it from its sheath. Its steel vibrated with power, eager to be unleashed by my intent. I spun round, expecting to find a pack of stalking wolves but what I saw was the glint of watching eyes lurking in the darkness.

  The shadows in the forest were growing, lapping toward me like a black tide. A snap echoed from the murk and I sprinted toward it, leaping over fallen logs as I fought the dense tangles of bracken. The canopy overhead was thicker here, it seemed untouched by autumn, the large dark leaves blocking out the late afternoon light.

  Something thrashed through the brush just ahead of me. Something low and shifting. I ran, intent on confronting the creature. As I burst through the foliage, I teetered on the edge of a short drop into the hollow stretching out below.

  I threw a hand out and grabbed a branch to slow my momentum.

  The bottom of the hollow was thick with mud, dead leaves and broken limbs. On the opposite bank a dark twisted hole yawned open and pale bones littered the ground before it.

  I clamped a hand to my mouth as the pungent stench of death filled the air and a strange, buzzing sound echoed up from below. Then I spotted the bodies strewn at the base of the rise where I stood. There were at least ten. Several had been strewn over one another but some stared up at me with dull sightless eyes. Those that had eyes. Many were missing flesh and had limbs torn at the joints. Swarms of flies filled the air, dancing over the festering corpses in a swirling black cloud.

  I glanced at the opening as a low growl rose from within and I saw gleaming eyes staring back. Slowly, four snarling wolves stalked from the den, their teeth bared, their hackles up as they headed toward me.

  They were the same creatures I'd fended off the day before, and from this vantage point it was quite clear that wherever they might have come from, it certainly wasn't this world.

  They neared the side of the hollow, saliva dripping from their maws as they sized me up. The bracken rustled behind me. I whirled around to find two more of the beasts creeping up. They growled as I lifted my sword.

  There was no retreat.

  "Back off!" I swept my sword through the air but the pair continued their advance, slowly inching forward, driving me toward the rim of the hollow where the others had gathered in a grey line, treading slowly and patiently toward their mark.

  Steam-like vapor spilled from their mouths and they filled the forest with a chorus of snarls and growls. I backed away, parallel to the verge, my sword held firm as I waited for one to make its move. The lurking pair joined the others as they fanned out into a half circle and continued to advance patiently toward me. As they passed from the gloom into light, I singled out the pack leader. His face was a mess of scars and bites, his eyes narrow. Intelligent.

  I stepped towards him, preparing to lop his head off but he scurried back and the rest of the wolves followed suit. They fanned out again, each trying to draw my attention and distract me from the others.

  Then two of the beasts charged from either side as the pack leader padded out from the center.

  "Kill!" I swung the sword. Steel bit through fur and misted the air with blood. The wolf gave a high- pitched whine and tried to hobble back. I pursued it and swung the sword again, cleaving its head from its neck.

  The others backed away but the leader stood his ground. He stared with cold, patient loathing. I understood. He had to fight. He couldn't back down.

  I planted my feet squarely on the earth as he charged. His eyes locked onto mine, his body fast, powerful and of singular purpose. I had one chance, one swing. I brought my sword up to face him, and in that moment overlooked the wolf that had circled round behind me.

  "Shit!" Teeth clamped around the back of my leg, releasing a flood of pain and agony. I swung the sword down, driving it through the wolf's back, pinning the beast to the ground.

  As I turned, the pack leader sailed through the air, hit me full on, and we both crashed into the brush. I tried to roll away but his paws pinned my shoulders down and his gnashing teeth neared my throat.

  He growled. Fetid breath washed over my face as he stared with feral, unblinking eyes. I seized his furry throat and tried to push him away, but gravity was on his side. My arms began to ache but I fought as I scoured the air for errant magic to tap into. There was none.

  Snap. His teeth gnashed, grazing the side of my face.

  "Get..." I closed my eyes. It was do or die. The darkness inside me began to rise. It swam up to greet me like an old friend. "...the..." Cold fire burned through me, lending me enough strength to shove him back. "...fuck off!"

  Fear and surprise overrode the creature's savage confidence as it looked into my enraged eyes. Its consternation was almost palpable, and its pause was long enough for me to gather my strength. I drew back my fist and punched him hard in the snout. He whimpered and scurried away.

  I leaped to my feet as the others closed in.

  My sword gleamed silver, wet and red in their dead pack mate's carcass as their heavy footsteps thundered upon the earth. As they neared, I ran low, grabbing my sword and spinning round. "Kill!" I swung the blade, tearing a ragged bloody slice across a bristling throat.

  Two more closed in. I hacked the nearest's legs from beneath it and stabbed the other through the heart.

  The leader backed away. I stalked toward him. He persisted in his retreat but refused to turn and flee, either from pride, fear, or both.

  I strode toward him but he skittered back, far fleeter than me.

  "Fine." I dropped the sword, drew my gun and fired.

  The first bullet tore through his eye, the second his heart. He fell hard, his legs kicking out as he gave one final, mournful howl.

  One last wolf remained. It slinked into the trees, its tail low between its legs. I thought of the corpses in the hollow, the bones picked clean. It was enough to drown the feeling of mercy that had given me pause.

  I fired. The wolf fell dead in the mud and an eerie still silence filled the forest. I took a deep breath, forcing my dark other to go back to wherever it rested within me. It went without a fight, conceding my power over it. For now. My hands shook as I ran them through my hair, massaging the ache from my t
emples. I waited a moment before returning to the rise and peering over the edge.

  There far were more corpses than I'd realized. They lay sprawled amongst blood soaked, muddy, ragged cloth, their bones gleaming pale amid the blanket of black feasting flies.

  I jumped down into the hollow, clamped a handkerchief over my mouth and searched the den. Gnawed bones and a hoard of skulls littered the floor but there were no more wolves, so I fought my rising nausea and returned to the bodies.

  Some looked fresh, no more than a few days old. "I'm so sorry," I whispered, like my sorrow could do anything for them. The darkness inside had ebbed away and I replaced its power with two clean fresh crystals before closing my eyes and projecting my astral body outside of my physical form.

  I opened the eyes of my wandering soul and looked into the eddies of time that swirled around me in a riot of soft glowing colors. I found one that flowed into the past. I drifted into it and watched as the day drew back to dawn, to night, and back to day.

  Time flickered, lending life to the wolves as they surrounded the scattered corpses. Slowly, they backed away toward the cave, their eyes locked on the dead. As if they were conjuring the flesh and muscle returning to the dead bodies, making them whole once more.

  Another flash sent the corpses leaping into the air. Dryden and his lackeys stood on the rise above with quad bikes parked in the brush behind them. I glanced at the corpses, wrists and ankles bound, resting at their feet.

  Another leap back in time, bullets passed in slow-mo from the victims heads to the guns in the biker's hands. Dryden looked so nonchalant as he murdered them, like it was no more than simple housekeeping. I watched the bikers around him, how they laughed as they followed his lead, and carefully remembered each of their faces for future reference.

  Another flash of time and the quad bikes retreated into shadows, taking their tracks with them.

  "Tracks are good," I whispered, my words spilling out reversed. "Tracks can be followed."

  The setting sun bathed the forest in reddish orange light as I returned to the present. I reached into my bag for a flashlight, but the battery was weak and the insipid wash of yellow light, useless. I was low on crystals too.

  I decided to head back while there was still some daylight, re-equip and return here first thing in the morning. Then I'd follow the tracks to what I'd hoped would be Dryden's farm.

  Of course, I should have called Erland so he could appraise the situation and tell me how to proceed. But I wasn't going to do that. No, I needed to see the murdering bastards who'd left these people out here to rot, pay for this. And pay dearly.

  The forest fell silent as I made my way back to the car. No gleaming eyes, no mournful howls. Just me, the trees and the darkening sky.

  I got back to the cabin and took a hot shower to wash away the wolf blood, then I laid back on the bed, intending to shut my eyes for a moment. I awoke later to the sound of my buzzing phone. It clattered on the nightstand and flashed with light as a message appeared on its screen:

  - LE - Your fowl is black and charred now, and well beyond foul. What happened?

  LE?

  Lily Embersen.

  "Shit." It was almost nine.

  I called her. The phone rang and rang, I was about to hang up when the line clicked. "Hi," I said. "I'm really sorr-"

  "Who is this?" A man's voice. Sebastian.

  I hung up, set my alarm, and tried to get back to sleep, but it quickly became apparent that sleep wasn't going to come easy.

  26

  I thought about trekking up to the lodge for a whiskey and something to eat, but decided to skip it. The heaviness was still with me. The images of the victims. Dryden and his men. The slaughter. It continued to run through my mind. I saw the bound people over and over again, standing on the hollow. Used up, then put down like cattle. Empty, human shells with only the barest light in their eyes, tossed away as casually as dead batteries.

  The crystal farms could only extract so much life force before their victims withdrew into themselves. It was an inevitable instinctive response, a defense to preserve the last of their essence, but it was not infallible. There was still a means of extracting what remained.

  Fear.

  Inhuman levels of fear. It was this terror, combined with the last vestiges of a victim's vitality, that made the black crystals so potent. And odious. This was why I'd never conceded to using them, at least until Dryden had forced my hand. The crystals Bastion sourced were charged along ley lines. More specifically, in places where they intersected and the power was amplified by elements like hidden springs, sacred groves or standing stones. Sometimes, where no natural formation was present, rigs were used to concentrate power from this ever flowing eternal source but no harm was ever done. The result was light and pure, its after effects minimal.

  I could still feel traces of the black crystal's darkness. It felt like it would take a lifetime of psychic scrubbing to wash it away. I lay back on the bed, grabbed the remote and switched the television on in hopes of finding something mind-numbing enough to send me back to sleep.

  A bottle of whiskey rested on the bedside table and I was tempted to take a swig, to tame and numb my churning thoughts. But I didn't. Instead, I double checked my alarm, lay back and stared at the flickering screen.

  Suddenly I jolted awake.

  The TV was still on but the film I'd been watching must have ended. In its place was some kind of documentary about strange people wearing animal masks. A cat, a pig, and a fox sat around a plain wooden table facing each other. Along one wall was what appeared to be a two-way mirror.

  A narrator spoke. Her words were in a language I didn't recognize but they struck me as cold, angry and hateful. I grabbed the remote, switched it off and was about to turn the bedside lamp out when I froze.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  I shivered as I glanced to the door. Thoughts of the boy in the old fashioned suit flooded my drowsy addled mind.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  I threw on a shirt and jeans, tucked my gun in my waistband and stalked across the room. A hummed off-key childlike melody resonated in from outside. It stopped as I reached for the door handle. And then he spoke. "Open up!"

  Cold terror washed over me as I yanked the door open.

  He stood on the porch with his hands in his pockets. His black glasses reflected my own horrified expression back at me. Then the corners of his lips tugged into a slow smile that grew wider and wider, revealing each one of his tiny white teeth. "Hello, mister."

  "What are you?" I held one hand behind my back and my fingers tightened on the grip of my gun.

  "I'm a me, and you're a you. Come on," He walked away, toward the woods. Then he stopped after a moment and turned back. "Hurry up! I've got something to show you."

  "No."

  He swung his arms as he skipped back onto the porch and the toe of his shiny shoe paused before the threshold. "I really think you should come with me," he said. "Right now."

  I felt an unseen power, his power, scorching the air between us. "Get out of here."

  "Don't be like that," he said with mocking disappointment.

  "Go!"

  "I will, once I've shown you what needs to be seen. It's deep in the dark dark woods. It wants to meet you."

  His words were like the hook in a spell, strong and persuasive. I reached for the door, overwhelmed by the impulse to put a barrier between us before he could probe any further into my mind. As I swung the door with all my might, he grabbed the frame with his fingers.

  I looked away as a sickening sound of crushed flesh and bones filled my ears, but the anticipated cry of agony never came.

  "That wasn't very nice, was it?" he said as he held his hand held up to examine his bruised, broken fingers. "But don't worry, mister," he sighed. "I'll be okay. I know you didn't mean it." Reaching up with his bleeding hand he removed his glasses, and I stood paralyzed as I looked into his eyes.

  They were ancient, jaundice-yellow with brok
en blood vessels lurking at the edges. His reptilian pupils were little more than slits. He blinked, and revealed his true form. "I see you. And you see me..."

  A demon. Huge, eight or nine feet tall. Ragged wings curled behind his back and a pair of antlers crowned his head. His flesh was grey, warty and thick. It stretched tautly over muscles that looked as if they'd been hewn from stone. He lifted his hand and drummed his conspicuously unblemished fingers upon the doorframe.

  "Rook," he whispered, his voice as slow as tar.

  I tried to avert my gaze but his eyes bore into mine, revealing glimpses of the terrible things they'd seen. And done. "Follow me," he commanded. His glistening cloven hoof inched toward the threshold, testing how close he could get. In that instance I realized he was vulnerable, that he didn't have omnipotent control.

  "Get the fuck out of here," I roared.

  A rush of adrenaline flowed through my chest and up to my head as the darkness inside me stirred. It begged me to step back, recede, and let it take over. The demon blinked and a furrow spread like a crack across his heavy brow.

  In the blink of an eye he transformed back into the little boy, reached into his pocket with his wretched, twisted fingers and put his glasses back on. Then, with a smirk, he turned and strolled into the gloom, whistling as he went.

  I drew my gun and aimed it into the shadows. "Come back and I'll kill you."

  Rumbling laughter rang out from the gloom. I tried to steel my mind against the sound but its hook nearly took hold. He wanted me to follow. He wanted to terrorize me and force my hand, so that I'd have no choice but to give in to my other. He wanted to make me lose control.

  I slammed the door shut and placed a fresh binding spell over it. It was strong enough, I hoped, to hold until dawn. That was all I needed to do, to make it to sunrise. Because come hell or high water, I was determined that this would be my last night in Copperwood Falls.