Dark Seduction (19 page)

He couldn't begin to comprehend what it took to go through so much pain. And for what? Revenge? Family honour? Zen suspected she must be a little unhinged. No one in their right mind allowed someone to mutilate them as much as she had.

Although having walked through a door in a house in the dead end alley, he now found himself standing in a street. Nothing was what it seemed. The houses were portals within portals, doors that led nowhere and everywhere, offering endless possibilities, ultimate nightmares, impossible dreams.

The houses lining the street were like towering cliffs, crumbling weatherworn edifices pockmarked with dark windows.

Zen still found the Shadowland overwhelming; a conundrum, built layer upon layer like a wedding cake rotten at the core.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“Somewhere within the lighthouse.”

Zen frowned. “But this is a street.”

“No, it
looks
like a street. This is a big place and it all depends where you look from. Here, light refracts differently. The Shadowland is a law unto itself.”

Zen flinched, his hand burning up.

“Does it hurt?”

“Do you need to ask?” He sucked air through his teeth.

“How did it happen?”

“The undertaker attacked me. But I imagine you already know that.” Even though he didn't want to risk angering Melantha, he couldn't let the incident go unspoken.

Melantha shrugged. “That which doesn't kill me makes me stronger.”

Zen gritted his teeth. Bullshit. That which doesn't kill me will just try harder next time. He’d wanted to hear her deny it, wanted to hear the shock in her voice that someone tried to kill her son, wanted her to beg for his forgiveness, but she remained stoically detached; uninterested; not how he expected a mother to react. He wanted to see tears. Remorse. Christ, the woman gave him to a couple of drugged up hippies who had trouble even knowing what day it was, never mind anything else. At least she could show a bit of regret. A bit of emotion. Anything; especially as she rated honour so highly.

He stared at his mother, trying to fathom her thoughts. She pursed her lips, the emotion he wanted to see developing like a photograph from an instant camera.

Unfortunately, it wasn't the emotion he hoped for.

Zen took a step back. Had he upset her with his questions?

Melantha opened her mouth, a gash in the mask of scars. She let out a thin snarl.

Zen started shaking; watched as his mother reached into her skirt and pulled out a small knife.

The emotion on her face was anger.

CHAPTER 29

Verity wandered the lighthouse parapets as though in a dream.

Sounds of pain and ecstasy emanated from the buildings lining the walls, one blurring into the other.

Bridges spanned the lighthouse, ranging from spindly narrow walkways to large brick structures. Some led to the other side of the lighthouse, while others didn't seem to lead anywhere. Some went up, some went down. A spiral staircase wound its way around the wall; in places, only a few feet wide, in others, closer to fifty. The buildings also varied in size. Some were the size of a dog kennel, others the size of a mansion.

She peered over the edge of the stairs and saw she was still very high, and it made her feel quite dizzy.

A series of loud bangs emanated from outside, the sound so distant as to be almost unnoticeable. Curious, she crawled on her hands and knees to a small, circular window set deep into the thick wall. The walls felt cold and slimy, and she had the strangest notion of crawling through an artery.

She unfastened the latch, pushed the window open, and shuffled to the edge to peer down. She felt a lot safer lying prone in the narrow gap than she did on the staircase. Wispy black clouds obscured a lot of the view, and the buffeting wind took her breath away, but in the breaks in the cloud, she spotted flashes of fire far below; orange flares and blue explosions that sizzled and crackled on the wind.

Melantha and her army were here. The thought quickened her heart.

She quickly shuffled back out and hurried down the steps. Her thighs ached, but the descent proved easier than climbing.

Strange winged creatures spiralled in the air, rising on curious whirlwinds that possessed a life of their own.

The stairs narrowed to only a few feet in width, and Verity leaned against the wall and shuffled sideways. She held her breath and looked straight out in front, pressing her hands to the wall to anchor herself.

One of the devilish whirlwinds spun perilously close, flaying her with grit that stung her eyes. She watched as the pillar of wind danced away, only to dart back seconds later with renewed vigour. It tugged at her hair and clothes, almost taking on human form, reaching out with numerous malformed limbs that wanted to pluck her from the ledge.

Verity let out a little squeal, the sound instantly stolen by the wind.

One of the flying creatures winged towards her. About a foot in length, it had a saw-shaped beak and independent eyes that rolled in their sockets.

Verity swatted the creature away, which only aggravated it.

A strange rasping sound originated from the creature as it moved its beak.

 Panicked, Verity moved faster, but the ledge narrowed too much to allow her to run so she shuffled sideways. The creature swooped towards her, and she raised her hands to ward it off. Grit covered the uneven ground, and she felt her feet start to slide. She tried to grab the wall, but it proved too smooth.

She flailed her arms in the air as she started to fall. Heart in her throat, Verity gazed into the chasm below and realised she could do little to stop her momentum.

She heard the creature emit a victorious cry; heard the ghostly wind cheering.

With one last attempt at stopping her descent, she reached out, grabbed the edge of the stairs, and just managed to get one hand up in time. Her fingers scratched to find a purchase and pain flared along her arm as the single limb arrested her fall. For a second, she thought her arm was going to be wrenched from its socket, and then she grabbed the ledge with her other hand, evenly distributing the weight.

The flying creature winged perilously close.

Verity dangled precariously over the abyss; felt sick.

She couldn't hold on much longer, and she tried to pull herself up, but she wasn't strong enough. Pain flared from the cuts on her body as the wounds reopened and her muscles screamed in agony.

It couldn't end like this, surely. She hadn't gone through all that pain to fall to her death.

Summoning every ounce of strength, she hoisted herself up, her chest scraping against sharp bricks. When high enough, she put one elbow on the ledge, then the other, her feet scrabbling against the wall to procure a foothold.

Once up, she rolled onto the ledge and lay on her back, trying to catch her breath. Her limbs burned, but she was alive.

The creature gave a loud cry and then wheeled away, soaring into the shadows higher up.

When her heart slowed its frantic beat, she sat up, wincing at the pain the movement elicited.

The quicker she reached the ground, the safer she would feel, so she picked herself up and continued descending, her legs shaking uncontrollably.

She didn't know how long it took to reach the bottom of the lighthouse. Time seemed like an abstract concept in the Shadowland, but she gave a relieved sigh when she stepped onto level ground. She glanced back up, couldn't believe how far she had come.

Her previous life now seemed hazy, a distant memory or a dream, this the only reality she had ever known.

She wondered whether the painful wounds fuelled her disparaging thoughts. Perhaps the pain created ephemeral, illusory realities. Perhaps it induced this place. On the other hand, it could have created the other place, the one she remembered before this where there were no monsters. Was this a hallucination? Or was her previous life the hallucination? Which was the dream, and which the reality?

She wondered whether she might be suffering from a form of shock. Even worse, that she might be going mad. It only confused her more; distorting reality.

But she didn't have time to ponder her situation as there were more pressing matters to deal with. Screams and shouts rang out, but she couldn't tell whether they were sounds of battle, or just the general background patter.

A confusing warren of buildings stretched before her; a small citadel within the safety of the lighthouse, and she stood deliberating which way to proceed.

Eventually, she decided to make for the source of the noise.

The streets appeared deserted, abandoned like a surreal ghost town. If it wasn't for the screams, she could imagine she was all alone.

She rounded a corner, the agonising cries now louder than ever, and stared in horror at the sight of Melantha's army flailing on tall wooden stakes. Those that weren't already dead soon would be as a hoard of creatures on overlooking balconies slashed at them, tearing away strips of flesh and hanging it like grotesque bunting from the eaves.

The creatures looked like small imps with four arms and bluish skin.

Entrails hung like grotesque ropes from some of the bodies, and the imps played with them, enacting what looked like a bizarre dance around a Maypole. Verity covered her mouth with her hand in the hope of stopping herself from being sick. They were toying with them, playing a grotesque game of cat and mouse.

She looked away and noticed something glinting on the ground and she walked over and squatted down, frowning.

A set of teeth.

Leo's teeth.

She picked them up, holding them in the palm of her hand like a precious jewel. He wouldn't have just left them lying around.

A low rumble rang out and she turned on her heels, a graceful pirouette to see Melantha’s dog come skulking out of the shadows, its teeth bared and bloody.

The dog's growl got progressively louder as it closed the gap between them, its eyes sparkling with killer lust.

It stood on its hind legs and started to transform, long, sharp claws growing from hand-like appendages.

Then it pounced, all gnashing teeth and fierce claws.

CHAPTER 30

Zen stood frozen to the spot, terrified.

Melantha raised the knife, her expression furious.

“Wait,” Zen shrieked, bringing his hands up to protect himself.

But Melantha didn't wait. She leapt through the air and Zen prepared himself to die. He flinched in anticipation of the pain the knife would induce, but Melantha continued past and he wheeled in surprise to watch his mother spear the gecko creature that had pursued him through the alley.

The creature flicked its long tongue out and drummed its tail on the ground, but it offered no resistance as Melantha drove the knife home. It almost seemed to welcome death, its face adopting a smile before it fell to the ground.

 Melantha composed herself and turned towards Zen and said, “It's you and me, son.
Kon del tut o nai shai dela tut wi o vast.
He who willingly gives you a finger will also give you the whole hand. Will you give me your hand?” She looked at him, her face conveying enthusiasm that verged on madness.