The Veil: Corruption (HASEA CHRONICLES BOOK 2)
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THE VEIL
CORRUPTION
Stuart Meczes
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
THE VEIL: CORRUPTION
Copyright © 2013 by Stuart Meczes
Cover art by Claudia McKinney
All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher or author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that which it is published and without similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Stuart Meczes asserts the moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
Published in 2013 by FeedARead Publishing.
British Library C.I.P. A CIP catalogue record of this title is available from the British Library.
Table of Contents
Prologue
PART I
WHISPERS
1
Gabriella
2
Alex
3
Gabriella
4
Alex
5
Gabriella
6
Alex
7
Alex
8
Gabriella
9
Alex
10
Alex
11
Gabriella
PART II
TRIALS
12
Alex
13
Gabriella
14
Gabriella
15
Danny
16
Danny
17
Danny
18
Danny
19
Alex
20
Gabriella
21
Alex
22
Gabriella
23
Alex
24
Gabriella
PART III
CONTROL
25
Gabriella
26
Alex
27
Gabriella
28
Alex
29
Alex
30
Alex
31
Gabriella
32
Alex
33
Gabriella
34
Alex
35
Alex
36
Alex
37
Alex
38
Gabriella
39
Alex
40
Alex
Epilogue
Gabriella
About the author
To my sister Claire,
For helping me become the person I am today and for showing me that life is there to be lived.
It is a man’s own mind, not his enemy or foe, that lures him to evil ways.
-Buddha
Prologue
The Guardian ran faster than he had ever run before. It had been a long time since he’d known genuine terror, but he felt it now. Heart screaming inside his chest, sweat pouring from his brow, down his face.
But the pursuer never slowed.
It thundered behind him, tearing through the dark backstreets like a streak of lightning. It ran on paws bigger than dinner plates, and its colossal jaws salivated with greedy desire.
The Guardian had never seen one like this before. He’d encountered dozens, but this was something more. The creature was twice the normal size. And its eyes burned as if they contained hell itself. He turned, firing silver bullets from his gun, but the beast barely registered as they thudded into its dense flesh. It just ran faster and harder, never giving up the chase.
The area was a maze. Every grey warehouse looked the same; every road seemed to lead deeper into the industrial complex. He had lost all sense of direction. The Guardian cursed his stupidity. He had investigated this place by himself – no one knew he was here. He couldn’t even call for backup; his Biomote was a smashed pile of circuitry in the central warehouse. If somehow he did manage to escape, what difference would it make? He would never reach the Warren in time.
No one could help.
What the Guardian had discovered in the warehouses had shocked him to the core. And now he was paying the price for his curiosity. He had been spotted and the chase had begun.
He fired his last round. It buried into the space between the beast’s eyes. But the creature didn’t stop. It simply shook its head and growled. And sped up.
Fear became desperation, and for the first time the Guardian shouted for help. The sound echoed around the desolate estate, and the only reply was the howl of the wind and the panting of his relentless pursuer. Knowing he was lost and alone, he took his only remaining option.
Fight.
The Guardian turned and squared. The beast hit with the force of a truck, sending them both sprawling onto the tarmac. Then it pounced. Through gritted teeth, the Guardian fought with everything he had, pistol whipping and punching, biting and kicking. But the beast was stronger than anything he had ever encountered. He’d never stood a chance.
As its jaws clamped around his throat and drained the life out of him, he watched as it slowly began to alter its shape. There were a series of nauseating cracks and pops as the body shrank and the fur shed. In its place crouched a naked figure covered in blood. The Guardians eyes went wide in fear when he saw the face that stared back at him. With a dying breath he managed to gurgle his final words.
“Who are you?”
The naked figure smiled back at him, eyes brimming with menace.
“I am you.”
PART I
WHISPERS
1
Gabriella
I sprinted down the high street, footsteps drumming against the pavement. Alex followed close behind. We snaked through the crowds of pacing commuters and meandering shoppers.
None of them could see or hear us.
We had our Kapre belts activated, which meant we were completely invisible to humans. There was a buzzing sound and Grey’s voice – Orion’s newest recruit – filled my ear.
“Huntmaster, you guys need to hurry the hell up. The train is about to leave, and I’m the only Guardian on it!”
I squeezed the communication bracelet on my wrist. “We’ll be there, don’t worry.”
“Gotcha.”
We pushed harder until the streets became nothing but streaks of colour. We reached Chapter Hill train station and, without slowing, vaulted over the ticket barriers and onto the main platform. The train we needed to be on was pulling away. Alex glanced at me and I nodded. We broke into a sprint again. The train was gathering speed quickly; I wasn’t sure we could make it.
No choice.
Together, we charged down the platform, all the way to the very end.
And jumped.
I hit the side of the train first, denting the metal with my shoulder and knocking the air from my lungs. I slipped and managed to get a foot onto the lip of the metal door just in time.
Smash!
Alex’s hand shattered a window as he landed. Luckily, no one in the carriage was below it. A torrent of confused gasps rushed through the opening. Alex cl
ung to the edge with white knuckles, pressing his feet against the side of the train like a cat burglar.
“Landings need some work,” he said with a grin.
“I’ll let you off given the circumstances. You ready?”
“It’d better not be a Devil. That’s all I’m saying.” He flashed a smile and slipped through the window. I followed him.
Once inside, I scanned with my Biomote. Green light rolled the length of the train in a matter of seconds. The unit beeped and I read the display.
Commuter bullet train LD6732. Active from March 2013. Aimed at short distances at speed. Only stops at major London stations. Six carriages. 176 passengers on board.
The aisles were wide and bordered by twin strips of LED lights. The seats were sleek black, rather than the normal psychedelic art sneeze. They ran in pairs for six rows, switched to tabled booths of four, and then switched back again. The sizeable carriage had four external exits and two internal, two baggage racks and overhead storage rails. Emergency break handles were evenly placed along the walls.
The carriage was busy. Large groups of college kids dominated the booth seats, most of them talking in unnerved voices and frowning over at the broken window. On a two seater, a mother cradled her young daughter. The woman looked concerned, but the child was blissfully unaware, grabbing at a silver chain that hung around her mother’s neck. Businessmen huddled like oversized penguins near the doors. Seeing no real danger apart from a randomly smashed window, they’d resumed a discussion on how England could rescue itself from economic decline.
I squeezed the coms bracelet. “Grey, we’re on the train. Where are you?”
“I’m right at the front. Got a visual on our boy. No problems as yet.”
“Okay, we’re on our way.” I clicked off.
We swept through the train, steadying ourselves as the carriages swayed from side to side. We passed teenagers our age, nodding their heads to music blaring from earphones, and hassled commuters barking orders into mobile phones or firing off last-minute emails. We moved through quiet booths, where people were staring blankly out the windows or dozing on makeshift pillows fashioned from jackets and bags. We paced through a bar section, where a makeup-plastered attendant was selling overpriced sandwiches and drinks. I stabbed the button for the final carriage and the doors slid open with a hiss. Grey was hunkered down by the first set of external doors. He was wearing the same uniform as Alex and me: black leather with the HASEA emblem positioned to the left, above the heart. It depicted a knight crossing ceremonial blades with a hybrid wolf/bat – an allegorical symbol that stood for the alliance between Chosen and Pandemonians.
At least the ones that were still on our side.
Grey gave a nod as we crouched down next to him. His real name was Paul Garrison. He was only twenty-nine, but the trauma of his Awakening a few months ago had turned his hair into a shock of grey so pale it bordered on white. Delagio had called him Grey as a joke, and the name had stuck.
“Where’s the target?” I asked.
Grey nodded his head. “At the front there.”
I rose up a little and stared down the aisle. The carriage had the same exact layout as the previous, except that the door at the end led to the driver’s compartment. Our target was sitting in a booth at the end, facing towards us. He matched the image stored on my Biomote. Mixed race with short brown hair and dark eyes. Twenty-one years old. Oblivious to our existence, he was focused on tapping away at his mobile phone.
I glanced up at the wall. It had an electronic display looping through stations on the train route. There were only two left, Clapham Junction and Waterloo.
“Do we know what we’re dealing with?” asked Grey.
Alex shook his head. “Selene’s premonition didn’t show. Only that something was going to attack him.”
I lowered my hands down to my Kapre belt and unsheathed my twin daggers, which Alex had affectionately nicknamed the Blood Brothers. They’d been created by Eldore – the extremely talented Dwarf Forgemaster of the Warren Armoury. They were formed from the remains of a Crimson Twin, one of the deadly identical swords that The Sorrow had shattered. Eldore had sculpted hilts that resembled Dragons with curved tails. The blood-red blades had been sharpened into curved points and still had the untranslatable ancient symbols etched on them.
“Okay, nobody move until I say. Let’s see what happens.”
Alex and Grey agreed. So we crouched down and waited for something to happen. Exactly nine minutes and eleven seconds later, something did.
The train rolled to a stop at Clapham Junction, and the doors slid open. A group of three skaters got on. They looked in their early teens and all wore high-tops and brightly-coloured jeans adorned with chains and belts, which hung low, exposing boxers. The doors closed and the train set off again.
I did a final scan with the Biomote. 180 passengers.
Or 180 potential fatalities if things go wrong.
The skaters shuffled over to a booth and hunched over the table, sniggering at a video that a stocky one with ginger dreadlocks was playing on his phone.
Then it happened.
One of the skaters – thin with dyed-black hair that covered one eye – snapped back into his seat. His body went ridged, as if he had touched a live wire. His hands locked on his knees like claws, bunching up his jeans and digging into his skin. The tendons in his neck grew thick and strained as if they were about to rip.
Merda, that looks familiar.
The ginger skater looked up from his phone and nudged his friend, frowning. “Yo Moose, check out JP.”
Moose – who wore large, fresh plugs in both ears – turned to look at his friend. He gave a nervous laugh. “Hey bud, you having a stroke or sumthin?”
JP said nothing.
Moose jerked an elbow into JP’s ribs. “Bruv, snap out of it. You’re freakin’ me out.” JP continued to say nothing.
Then his eyes turned black.
Yeah, thought so.
“What the hell? L-look at his eyes!” shouted Moose, recoiling into his seat.
The skaters scrambled away from JP as if he’d just been infected with a deadly pathogen – which wasn’t too far from the truth. They huddled together at the exterior doors, sharing horrified glances between themselves and their possessed friend. JP stood up in a movement that was like one giant twitch. He walked down the carriage, moving in unnatural jerks. The rest of the carriage erupted into a cacophony of gasps and fearful yells as they noticed him.
I sighed, sheathing the Blood Brothers.
“Lamiae?” Alex asked.
I nodded.
“Brilliant.” He tapped the strap of the sheath that held his Crimson Twin. “This is useless then.”
“Until we get it out of the host it is, yeah.”
“A frigging Lamiae. That’s all we need,” muttered Grey.
Lamiae were Umbra. Specifically, they were a subspecies of Demon that couldn’t physically travel between Pandemonia and Earth, but they could send their ethereal form through and take possession of animals or humans, gaining complete control of the host until they vacated or were expelled. They were rare. They were also a royal pain in the ass.
The possessed JP reached the target and curled both hands over the luggage rack above his head. He glared down at the target.
“Okay, I’ve seen enough. Let’s do this,” I said.
We all sprang to our feet. Several passengers had climbed out of their seats, unnerved by JP’s movements and his friends’ fearful reaction. They seemed unsure of what to do, as if they half expected a D-list celebrity to jump out and reveal it was all a TV stunt. I had no choice but to barge through. Commuters spiralled out of the way, collapsing onto tables and seats, and then began to scream about ghosts.
The Lamiae leaned close to the target, studying his face.
“You are Daniel Jackson,” it stated in a voice similar to leaking gas. “You must die.”
Daniel’s eyes went wide with alarm. He kicke
d both feet into the Lamie’s chest. As it reeled backwards, he followed up with a hook that sent it sprawling into the seat opposite.
“Wow, our boy can fight,” said Grey as he shoved past a group of commuters.
Daniel tried to run away from the recovering Umbra, but it grabbed him by the jacket. The Lamiae spun him around so his back was pressed against JP’s chest. He struggled to break free, but the creature held tight. Then it cupped one hand under his chin and the other on top of his head.
And prepared to snap his neck.
No!
I vaulted onto a table and dived over the remaining passengers. Colliding hard with the Lamiae, I sent us both careering into the driver’s door. It buckled inwards from the impact. We landed awkwardly on the twisted metal and scrambled to get up.
“What the bloody hell is going on?” demanded the train driver. A multiple- chinned face appeared over me. He took one look at JP’s eyes and disappeared back into the cab with a squeak. I shoved the Lamiae away from me and sprang to my feet.
Daniel looked shell-shocked. Because he hadn’t finished his Awakening and I hadn’t spoken to him directly, he still couldn’t see through the Kapre belt’s magic. As far as he was concerned – as well as the rest of the passengers – a boy with jet black eyes was being attacked by something invisible. Bit of a mind fu—
The Lamiae kicked me in the back. I pitched forwards and was saved by Alex, who set me back on my feet. We formed a triangle in the aisle with Alex in front, Grey and me behind – ready for a fight.