Dark Seduction (15 page)

“Why haven’t you stopped her yourself? You seem to have a trick or two up your sleeve. And it’s not as if you couldn’t raise an army of your own,” Zen said.

“We don’t need to raise an army, not when we have you. It’s so much more satisfying to pit son against mother, don’t you think?”

Zen saw something in the albino’s expression that implied he wasn’t telling the whole story. “You’re lying,” he said.

The albino man glared at Zen, making him step back. “We may not have many rules here, but one that we do have is not to create a disturbance in the infrastructure, the glue that binds the worlds. If we unleash an army into your world, there would be no telling the repercussions. It could threaten the equilibrium.”

“Well why not just wait until she arrives and then take her out?”

The albino didn’t answer.

“You’re scared aren’t you?” Zen felt like laughing. “You’re afraid she might succeed.”

The albino shook his head. “No, we’re afraid that you might fail.”

Zen frowned. “So how did you find me? And why, if you can open doors anywhere, did I have to bloody make my own way here?”

The albino man narrowed his eyes. “We know about everyone that’s been to this place. However, you were born here, so you’re linked in a way you wouldn’t understand – let’s just say you carry a little piece of the darkness in your heart. To make you understand; to make you see the importance of what you have to do, you had to make the journey.”

“Well, why don't you give me some special power to use?”

“Because
you
don't need one.”

Zen was about to protest, but the room started to spin, becoming a fractal photograph that spun away in a grey and black swirl.

“Remember, Zen. Last chance,” the albino man whispered menacingly in his ear.

Zen's stomach lurched. It felt like riding on a waltzer, spinning round and round and up and down. He vaguely registered that Verity still held onto his hand and he tried to concentrate on her touch, trying to use her as an anchor.

The whirlwind of shapes began to slow, and a picture started to form, gaining in clarity. Zen blinked. He’d never liked fairground rides, now he liked them even less. Buildings became visible; honest to goodness buildings that didn't look out of place. Still raining, Zen felt the drops hit his face; they felt wonderful, real and refreshing. He breathed deeply and exhaled, trying to rid his lungs of the smell of death and decay. Where the clouds dispersed on the horizon, the sun peeked over like a baleful eye.

“Home sweet home,” Leo said.

Zen looked behind him to see Leo swaying slightly, his face strangely pale. Then he turned to look at Verity, to check that she was okay, but there was no one there. He could still feel her hand in his, and he looked down, only it wasn't Verity's hand he had hold of, but a knife, the handle of which nestled in his palm. He held it up, studying it. He had never seen a knife like it. The blade looked like white bone, about eight inches long, and curved in a wicked sneer. There were serrations in the blade, but they weren't regular and they looked like sharp incisors. The handle of the knife wrapped around the back of his hand to stop his fingers slipping onto the cutting edge. Small blades protruded either side of the main one.

“Where's Verity?” Leo asked.

Zen shrugged and held up the knife. “She was holding my hand, next thing I know, I'm holding this instead.” His expression turned sour and he went pale. “The money ...” He held aloft his other, empty hand. “Those bastards.” He spat on the ground.

Leo clenched his fists. “Fool, you left her there.”

Zen didn't appreciate Leo's patronising tone, especially not after losing so much money. “Look, pal. I didn't leave her anywhere.”

“Then where is she?”

Zen didn't know, but he could hazard a guess.

“So you want to help Zen?” the albino man said.

Verity shivered. She’d watched Zen and Leo disappear right before her eyes, and despite trying to keep hold of Zen, like everyone else in her life, he’d slipped through her fingers like water.

“I said I did, didn't I,” she replied, trying to sound braver than she felt. “Melantha wants to kill me. I can’t stand by and do nothing.”

A door opened on her left and a figure appeared. Although hard to make out any features in the feeble red light, she thought she saw the glint of long, sharp teeth and the sheen of sweat on naked breasts before the figure disappeared into the shadows. Whatever or wherever this place was, it was like something created in a nightmare. She couldn't believe people came here of their own free will. A noise overhead drew her attention and she looked up to see a procession of figures walking the steps, but they looked unnatural, their shapes distorted as though viewed through water. Some of them appeared to have wings, others looked ethereal like shadows; some were naked, others were clothed.

Whatever happened when this was all over, she knew her life would never be the same. How could it be? She had looked into the bowels of hell and she couldn't expect to come out unscathed; not when she knew the monsters were real, and that they made nightmares look tame.

“Are you willing to pay the price?” the albino asked.

Verity swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat. “What do you mean, price? I thought I was helping you.”

“Yes, but unlike Zen, you need endowing with something extra.” He grinned, his teeth ominously white and sharp.

“Endowing with what?”

The albino man smiled. “Armour.”

CHAPTER 21

Melantha watched the sunrise, mesmerised as though seeing it for the first time.

She hadn't slept all night, choosing to tend the fire, a beacon. Her people arrived in dribs and drabs, and now a small enclave of caravans and vehicles surrounded her.

A palpable air of trepidation filled the camp.

As she contemplated the fire, Barrabas approached, gulping tea from a mug. A couple of young men accompanied him, their faces eager, but also afraid.

“So, are you going to tell us the plan?” he asked, throwing the dregs of his tea onto the fire which spat out a tongue of flame and hissed as if in anger.

“The plan’s simple. I’ll take you to the Shadowland. From there, it’s up to each of you to acquire whatever you can, however you can.”

“That doesn't seem like much of a plan,” Barrabas spat, his lips pursed and his eyes narrowed in consternation.

“What would you suggest?”

“For a start, it took you years to acquire your power,” Barrabas said.

“That's because my power’s bound by the flesh. But there are things that don’t need a magical invocation: perfumes from other worlds that make people go crazy. Then there are weapons from far-flung places that you wouldn’t believe.”

“And have you seen these things?” one of the other men asked.

“I don’t have to have seen them to know they exist. It's a place of dreams.”

“But ... but I've heard—”

“Heard what? That it's the home of
bengikano
. The devil's place. Well, everything you've heard is true, but more so. I won't lie to you. You’ll see things that’ll chill your blood, sights that’ll give you waking nightmares. It's a place you’ll wish you’d never seen.” She looked into the flames, remembering her own experience of the place, and she knew they were right to be scared. The scars she carried were not just physical. She hadn't just looked into the abyss, she had fallen in. “It's up to each individual to choose the path he treads. I won't force you to come, but let me tell you now, no matter how distasteful that place is, if we don’t take from it what we need, then our ancestors will have died for nothing. How much longer are you prepared to suffer at the hands of ignorant people? There are things there that will help us strike our enemies down. This is our time. Our time to rise up and fight.”

“So how can we expect just to take what we want?” the timid man asked, twiddling his thumbs. “If these people are as bad as you say ... We can’t defeat
bengs
.”

Melantha looked towards her caravan and motioned with her hands. The dog got to its feet and trotted towards her, grinning, its maw a mantrap of razor-sharp teeth.

“This is your adversary,” she said as the dog sat at her side, cocking its head so she could tickle it behind its ear. “Does it scare you?”

“But that’s just a dog,” the young man said, puzzled.

“Appearances can be deceptive.” To prove her point, the dog's maw shrank; its head became almost human and its paws turned into something resembling clawed hands.

She heard muffled gasps from the men and she smiled.

“I brought this creature back from that place with me. If I can bewitch one, I can bewitch them all. Now you have to trust me. It’s time to go. Are you with me?”

The men nodded and then dispersed to gather their arsenal.

Melantha clambered aboard her caravan and looked at the faces hidden in its design, faces she recognised, family members whose spirits would accompany her on the dark path she chose to tread.

She took the reins and urged the horse on. The army marched at her rear; destination Trinity, gateway to the Shadowland.

CHAPTER 22

“She's coming.” Leo raised the brim of his trilby and looked along the high street at the approaching caravan.

“Shit.” Zen shivered. His hands shook. He couldn't kill his mother.

Up ahead, he saw Melantha grin, the gruesome scars making her flesh mutate into something even more hideous.

He remembered the last words she said to him,
if I ever see you again, I will kill you
.

He didn't know whether she meant it, but she had said it as though she did. Not that he could blame her. After all, he was meant to kill her.
She would just be getting in a pre-emptive
strike. Kill or be killed.

He hoped she hadn't noticed the knife he slipped behind his back. Wished he had never got involved with any of this. He didn't know what to do. On the one hand, he had to kill a relative he never knew he had. On the other, he would die.

He headed towards the caravan. He needed to save his own neck. He couldn't die. There were too many things he wanted to do with his life. Besides, he didn't know the woman, but with all the anger she seemed to have bottled up, it might be doing everyone a favour. Especially her. Yes, that's what it would be, a favour. He gripped the knife and gritted his teeth.

He tried to convince himself it would be easy, but he knew it wouldn’t. Knew it would be hard, very hard. Only a cold-blooded killer wouldn't feel anything. 

She wouldn't go quietly, he just hoped it was swift. He didn't want her to suffer; couldn’t live with the guilt.

A few local residents peered out of their doors and windows, watching the bizarre carnival procession. Zen wondered if they even realised the importance of the events about to unfold.

He only hoped Melantha's followers would be too shocked to react.

A flock of carrion birds circled overhead, squawking eagerly as if they sensed the impending bloodshed.

The undertaker stood at the window of his shop, frowning. The gold lettering in the window read, Pain & Son, Undertakers. Zen walked past, absently heard the undertaker's door open with a jangle of bells.