by Bali Rai
Despite my arms feeling like lead, I increased the speed of my attack, even though I knew we were in serious trouble. With the demon at our backs we were trapped, and the cannibals were beginning to get a foothold. I could see Aron begin to falter, and then he caught a fist in the face. He stumbled backwards and his attacker managed to break free and enter the room. I swung my sword, slicing through the cannibal’s jaw, but in that split second two more broke in and Aron and I were forced backwards.
‘Shit!’ I heard myself say, just before there was an almighty crash and the ceiling caved in above us.
I fell backwards, dazed, as a lump of concrete smacked into my right temple. Aron fell on top of me, putting his arms round me he rolled us to the left. I tried to see what Prior was doing, but with Aron’s weight on me I was unable to move. Ignoring my attempts to push him off, Aron stayed put and I screamed at him to move.
Suddenly the screaming of dying cannibals flooded my senses and I felt myself begin to drift. The blow to my head was worse than I’d thought and I was moments away from passing out. I tried to shift Aron again, but I was too weak, and then I caught Jonah’s unmistakable scent in the room. I calmed a little, thinking that if Jonah was with us, we might just survive . . .
Aron looked into my eyes, whispered something I didn’t understand and then, out of nothing, tried to kiss me. Horrified, I turned my head and his lips caught the left side of my neck. I screamed at him, shocked at what he was doing. He tried to turn my head back towards him and I fought against it. I wanted him off me, and despite myself I began to cry. Then, in an instant, his weight was gone and I saw Jonah looking down at me.
‘Come on,’ he said gently as he lifted me onto his shoulder.
Before I faded into unconsciousness, I caught sight of Prior, hacking up lumps of phlegm. In another corner sat Aron, glowering at me. I wanted to yell at him, to slap his face, but I didn’t have the strength. Instead, I felt myself pass out . . .
12
THE MAYOR STOOD looking out of his living-room window. One of his servants, a plump girl called Louisa, was weeding his garden, her rounded rump facing him as she worked on all fours. The view cheered him; the girl had shown previously that she was willing to take some extra credits in return for services rendered.
Behind him, on a walnut table, stood an open bottle of wine and a half-empty glass. The Mayor sighed to himself and looked at his watch. ‘Better draw yourself a nice, cleansing bath,’ he said out loud.
‘You do carry an unsavoury odour,’ he heard Valefor hiss.
Startled, the Mayor felt his heart contract as he turned to find the demon lord sitting on a leather couch that had been empty five seconds earlier.
‘Sire, I—’
Valefor raised a hand, silencing the Mayor instantly. ‘DO NOT SPEAK!’ he ordered.
The Mayor nodded, his trembling legs carrying him towards an armchair. He sat down, his eyes never leaving Valefor’s, his bowels barely under control.
‘My legion report more Resistance activity from last night,’ said the demon lord.
The Mayor was about to open his mouth but stopped short, annoying Valefor, who was as happy to kill him as let him live.
‘There is a stranger with them,’ continued the demon lord. ‘An individual with weapons he should not have. Last night he is said to have wreaked havoc. So I will ask you a question, wretched man, and you will consider your answer carefully. If I am satisfied, you shall live. If, however, your answer displeases me, I will order my patrollers to tie ropes to your arms and legs and to pull your feeble little body apart. Is that clear?’
The Mayor nodded.
‘Good,’ said Valefor with a sneer. ‘Can you find this stranger and bring him to me?’
The Mayor took his time as a single bead of sweat crept down the right side of his face. Eventually, as the bead dripped from his jowl onto his grey shirt collar, he spoke.
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘Are you sure?’
The Mayor nodded again. ‘Yes, my lord.’
Valefor stood, his huge wings curled up and over his head in a sign of aggression. ‘I do not believe you,’ he whispered menacingly.
The Mayor flinched, even though Valefor had made no move to attack him. The single bead of perspiration was joined by many more until he was dripping. The stench of it amused the demon lord.
‘I sense that we have an understanding,’ he told the Mayor. ‘Do what you must to find out whatever you can. I want to know who this stranger is. I want to know why he is here. Is that clear?’
‘Absolutely, my lord.’
Valefor relented and his wings returned to their normal position. His purple eyes mocked the Mayor. ‘Now go and take your bath,’ he told the pathetic little human. ‘Although why you’d want to rut with that creature outside confuses me. Kill her and eat her, Mayor – you’d find the taste of her flesh divine. I could show you, if you’d like—’
‘No!’ yelped the Mayor.
‘Such a shame,’ the demon lord teased. He closed his eyes, smiled, and then vanished before the Mayor could blink.
‘Bastard,’ mumbled the Mayor as he stared at the space in which Valefor had been standing.
13
THE FOLLOWING EVENING Stone looked on as Martha polished the mahogany bar with a dry cloth. A couple of male customers sat on battered wooden stools, nursing their drinks, avoiding conversation or eye contact with each other. Like most of the population of Fire City, both men had sallow, parched skin and sunken cheeks. Their clothes were basic: denim trousers and loose, badly sewn shirts made from thick cloth, one grey, the other black. Each wore cheap work shoes without socks, in keeping with their fellow citizens. The older of the two had maybe one more year of use left in him, if that, thought Stone, before he’d join the prey at a Hunt, the younger not much longer. Until then they’d work for the Wanted, doing whatever menial job they were given. Stone, whenever he considered his lot in life, thanked the stars. Life for society’s dregs was tough. They were nothing but poorly paid slaves.
Martha interrupted his thoughts by dropping and breaking her third glass of the afternoon.
‘You’re not having a good day, are you?’ joked Stone.
Martha scowled at him as she took hold of a broom. ‘Unless you want me to shove these splinters up your arse,’ she snapped, ‘keep your thoughts to yourself. No one asked you to be here.’
Stone smiled. Despite her bravado, he knew that she was scared of him. The thought of it made him happy.
‘Your father asked me,’ he said, knowing that she’d react with rage. A fourth glass smashed against the wall behind Stone, barely an inch from his head.
‘He’s not my father,’ Martha replied through gritted teeth.
‘Of course he is,’ teased Stone. ‘You live in his building. He puts up with your tantrums. He used to have sex with your mother . . .’
Martha picked up another tumbler with her free hand.
‘OK, OK!’ said Stone, holding up his hands and grinning. ‘You win!’
Martha shook her head.
‘You look tired,’ said Stone, attempting to placate her. She was a fiery beauty, he thought for the hundredth time. Her eyes, impossibly silvery, sparkled with light. High cheekbones flanked her perfectly symmetrical nose. Her Cupid’s-bow lips were full and naturally scarlet. He even admired her athletic build despite usually liking his women with a little more meat on their bones.
‘And you’re a perverted old man with a scavenger’s gaze,’ she told him, looking sickened at his too-obvious gawping.
Stone cursed wordlessly, anticipating the day when Martha’s stepfather wouldn’t be around to shield the girl. He’d tamed plenty of wild animals – she wouldn’t be the last.
‘Have you heard any rumours?’ he asked her in a less friendly tone.
Martha, for her part, swept the broken shards into a corner, just across from where Stone was standing. So close that she could smell his body odour. She answered with her back to
him. ‘What rumours?’
‘About a newcomer,’ Stone told her. ‘An outsider, talking treason.’
‘Er . . . no,’ she said, failing to disguise the hesitancy in her reply.
Stone noticed immediately. ‘You don’t sound too certain,’ he said.
Martha thought rapidly as she turned to face him. Her involvement with the Resistance was a secret. If she were discovered, Valefor would have her killed, regardless of her guardian. The same was true of Jonah. No matter how easily he killed Valefor’s lieutenants, he stood little chance against the demon lord himself. One week in his presence had convinced Martha of the outsider’s worth. The last thing she wanted was for him to get caught.
‘It’s a bar,’ she said to Stone, praying that Mace, who was with Jonah, wouldn’t pick that exact moment to walk in with him. ‘People come and go. Am I supposed to remember everyone?’
Stone shook his head. His ice-blue eyes were piercing. He hadn’t blinked once – he hardly ever did. The veins in his neck were fat, his jaw muscles twitching. He scared Martha almost as much as the demons did. She was damned if she was going to show it, however.
‘No – not everyone,’ he told her. ‘Just strangers.’
Martha shrugged. ‘Isn’t that your job?’ she asked. ‘You’re the mercenary.’
‘Security consultant,’ replied Stone. ‘Security.’
‘Whatever,’ Martha said. ‘Is there anything else? Only I’ve got work to do.’
Stone smiled. ‘Go ahead,’ he said. ‘I’m enjoying the view.’
‘I’ve met scab-infested demons with more appeal than you,’ she sniped.
‘Soon,’ he said with a wink. ‘We’ll see how noisy you are then, shall we?’
Martha shuddered as she walked away. Ten minutes later, as Stone disappeared up to his living quarters, she approached the two customers Stone had been watching. One of them was Raj, the other Prior. The elder began to nod before she’d stopped moving.
‘I heard everything,’ he said in a whisper.
‘Go now, then,’ advised Martha. ‘If Stone’s looking for a newcomer, Mace can’t bring Jonah in here.’
Prior gave a smile, revealing missing teeth and rotten, inflamed gums.
Martha smiled back. ‘Hurry!’ she added.
In his office, Stone removed a framed print of fading sunflowers from the wall above his desk. Behind it lay a combination safe which he unlocked. The heavy, vaulted door fell open and he reached inside for a phone. After the War the mobile networks had been taken over by the new government and all communications were now strictly controlled, with only the upper echelons allowed to converse with handsets outside of the citadels. The Unwanted had nothing – no media, no print, nothing with which they could correspond easily with others in the same situation. Rumours were the only news currency out here, unless you were one of the fortunate, like Stone.
He placed the phone on his desk and opened a small, square locket that hung on the chain round his neck with his dog tags. Inside was a sim card, which he inserted into the device before switching it on. As he waited for the covert network to kick in, he walked over to the door and listened for any sounds. Only the person who had supplied it knew about the phone. No one else – not even the Mayor – knew that it existed, and Stone was under strict orders to keep it that way. A hired gun named Pearson had seen it accidentally, some months back. To preserve its secrecy, Stone had broken Pearson’s neck with his bare hands, dismembered him and fed each part to the giant rats that plagued the city.
Satisfied that no one was listening, Stone sent a text message. Within seconds the phone vibrated in his hand. He answered quickly.
‘You have news?’ the caller asked.
‘Yes, master,’ replied Stone. ‘I think he’s here.’
‘You think? I don’t pay you to think, Stone. I pay you for answers.’
Stone felt his face flush with nervous energy. He was thankful that the phone was an old, pre-war model. A newer, face-to-face device would have shown up his emotions.
‘I’m trying to find out,’ he told the caller.
‘Is Valefor aware of him?’
‘Yes – the order to find him came directly from Valefor, via the human slug I’m working for. Word is that a stranger is in town, killing demons.’
The caller chuckled. ‘The Mayor is a tedious little man, isn’t he?’
Stone agreed. ‘I want to tear out his eyeballs and feed them to him,’ he admitted.
‘That would be . . . inopportune,’ replied the caller. ‘The Mayor has his uses. However, the very moment he has served his purpose you may kill him. You have my word.’
‘I’m going to hold you to that, master.’
‘Please do, Stone,’ said the caller.
‘What about Valefor and his lieutenants?’ asked Stone. ‘They want the stranger for themselves.’
‘Absolutely out of the question!’ snapped the caller. ‘They cannot be allowed to take him. Is that completely understood?’
Stone told him that it was.
‘Do whatever it takes, Stone,’ ordered the caller.
‘Carte blanche?’
The caller chuckled once more. ‘A mercenary with an education,’ he said. ‘One of your many admirable qualities, my friend. Yes – carte blanche, and that includes the demons.’
‘Understood. I’ll call again when I have more news, master.’
‘I look forward to it, Stone. Good day.’
14
TWO HOURS AFTER my run-in with Stone, Prior was back in the bar, but he shook his head when I asked if he’d found Mace and Jonah at the Haven.
‘They weren’t there,’ he told me in a low voice. I looked around, searching for anyone taking too much interest in what we were saying. Then I cursed, wondering where they were. The thought of them walking in and being discovered by Stone set my nerves on edge.
‘At least they haven’t come in here,’ I said.
The bar was now half full and noisy. Outside, the sky had darkened, the day shifts were over and the Hunt was barely hours away. I needed to sleep before it began and time was getting on.
‘Do you want me to ask around some more?’ asked Prior, wheezing and rubbing his chest.
‘No point,’ I replied. ‘They could be anywhere.’
‘What about that idiot Aron?’ Prior asked.
‘What about him?’
Prior smiled and made a kissing sound and I realized he was making fun.
‘Stop it,’ I told him in annoyance. ‘He’s just confused, that’s all. He’s one of us, Prior. One of the family.’
‘Pah!’ spat Prior. ‘Aron might be your friend but he has the heart of a gnat. Look at what happened to Samuel!’
‘Aron’s as brave as any of us, Prior!’ I heard myself snap.
I was more surprised at my reaction than Prior. After everything Aron had done, especially attempting to kiss me in the heat of a fight, I should have been much angrier with him. Only . . . what was the point? Aron had problems that couldn’t be dealt with by being mean to him. And, deep inside, I still felt a little of the warmth I’d always had for him. It wasn’t about to die completely just because Aron was acting odd. There was always hope that he’d move on from what had happened, and we’d go back to how things were. At least, I hoped so.
‘Samuel’s death wasn’t his fault – we’ve all watched someone die!’ I added, defending Aron some more.
Prior shrugged slowly and apologized. I said nothing, poured the man a drink and watched him down it with a single swallow. Samuel’s death still seemed unreal. So many of us had died fighting the demons that dealing with loss should have been second nature. Only it wasn’t – not really. I knew that some people had lost that kernel of empathy that made them human, often without even realizing it. People who’d become so worn, so defeated, that they just shrugged and moved on, hoping to stay alive for another day. With them, the demons had won the mental war as much as the physical, and that made me hate the Hell-kin a
ll the more. Well, they’d never defeat me mentally, I told myself. Not ever . . .
A sudden commotion at the door made me look up. A group of men were shouting and watching something happening on the street. Curious, I stepped away from the bar, sliding past a drunken woman sleeping with her head on a table, and approached the men. Tyrell, who’d been chatting to Faith by the staircase, appeared at my side, his ebony-coloured head shining, his shoulders threatening to tear the fabric of his hooded, once-red top.
‘Let me deal with it,’ he demanded, doing his usual big brother thing.
‘You don’t work here,’ I reminded him.
‘Don’t care,’ he said, making me smile. ‘I protect my sister, no matter what.’
I felt safe and warm whenever Tyrell was around, like nothing could harm me. We’d been friends ever since we’d met, and grown even closer over the years since. Tyrell, alongside Oscar, was the most loyal ally I’d ever had. Once I’d have said the same thing about Aron too, but I couldn’t any more.
‘Clear the doorway, then,’ I said to him as we approached the entrance.
The men at the door stepped aside when they saw Tyrell, watching over his shoulder as he looked out into the street. I could hear a commotion so I followed Tyrell outside, with Prior right behind me. Across the road some patrollers had cornered two homeless youths, neither more than thirteen years old. The youths, barefoot, with grime-covered faces, trembled in fear as the demons moved in, growling.
‘Don’t get involved!’ whispered Prior. ‘It’s too dangerous.’
Tyrell shook his head. ‘What – I should stand here and watch instead?’ he asked. ‘Never!’
I felt my stomach twist and turn with dread. Like Tyrell, I wanted to rescue the boys, but I also understood Prior’s warning. There would be another patrol close by, and another after that. Taking them on without weapons and in full view of everyone was suicide. With Stone asking questions about Jonah too, the last thing we needed was to draw attention to ourselves. I knew what Mace would say in our shoes so I backed Prior’s warning.
‘Wait!’ I said to Tyrell. ‘Let’s just see what happens.’
