Necrophobia (23 page)

“Well how about that.” Cynthia gave a low whistle as she peered down the staircase leading below. “Didn’t think I’d ever see one of these in real life.”

Locke eased himself past his fellow officers mindful of the close quarters and aimed his crossbow down the stairs. “Stay focused.”

A faint breeze whistled up the hidden stairwell as they descended one by one into the darkness. Locke’s flaming torch served both to illuminate their surroundings and deny them any night vision. The faint trail of smoke and the dust floating through the air irritating Reiner’s nose.

Clad in a makeshift Night Guard outfit Claire bristled as the ill-fitting long-coat chafed against her skin. The silver breastplate had been a difficult fit but the neckguard and pauldrons refused to strap into position. Hayley sighed in defeat as she removed some of the leather straps and returned the pauldrons to the shelf of the armoury.

“Close enough.” She fumbled with another set of straps before admiring her handy work.
“I’ve got to say this isn’t really me.” Claire held her arms out; feeling very much like a scarecrow. “I don’t know how you manage.”

With a dry smile Hayley tapped the ravaged neckguard; her fingers circling the nearest ring of punctures. “It’ll grow on you.”

Claire wasn’t so convinced given the comfort, protection and freedom of her hunting outfit but vampires were a whole different game. She fastened her quiver over the back of her armour and tightened the straps holding both a set of stakes to her thigh and her scabbard.

“Veronica seems to have taken a liking to you.” Hayley flexed her hands as she pulled her leather gloves over them one at a time. “I’m surprised you know her personally. She’s Lord Strigoi’s right hand at present.”

“We were friends once, for a brief time before she left.” The hunter pulled back her long hair and tied it into a low ponytail. “More acquaintances if I’m honest.”

“She’s come a long way since I knew her. How long have you worked for her?”

“A few months.” Hayley busied herself with checking her crossbow’s mechanism. “I’ve known Isobel for longer.”

Satisfied with her crossbow she opened a drawer and fumbled around inside it with a clinking of glassware. “You’ll need these.” She continued handing Claire a handful of small liquid-filled vials.

“Water?”

“
Holy
water.” She smiled. “I’m assuming you can’t do this.” She raised her right hand and it began to shimmer as a transparent dome of swirling water levitated across her open palm. She closed her eyes in focus as the dome of water expanded encompassing most of her forearm before regressing into a compact sphere. Her arm and clothing remained dry despite their submersion. She dismissed the sphere with a snap of her fingers; the water vanishing into nothingness.

“Thought we were just capturing a noble?” She fastened the holy water vials into one of her pouches. “Doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”

The armoury door opened and a tall Night Guard officer stepped in.

“Rosenfeld.” He gave a curt nod towards Hayley and surveyed Claire with suspicion. “One of the new recruits?”

Claire locked eyes with him, he was tall and powerfully built. The light reflected off his smooth head; his skin a deep taupe with cold undertones. With his square jaw and lifeless expression he resembled nothing so much as a stone bust.

“That’s right. Isobel brought her in.”

“Right.” He held out a hand and she shook it. “Inspector Niklaus Thorn.”

“Claire Acestes.”

Inspector Thorn glowered towards Hayley. “We leave soon. No more screw ups this time.”

Without another word the Inspector removed a spare crossbow off the wall-mounted rack and left.

Hayley watched him leave. The indifference on her face giving way to a resolute grimace.

“He’s not the most friendly but he’ll treat you with fairness.” She replied catching Claire’s eye. “And in case you’re wondering — no he never smiles.”

“I know the type.”

She watched the Night Guard double-check their equipment and preparations. She could almost visualise the checklist in Hayley’s head as she ticked off each item.

“We’ll be going in with support from the amiable Inspector Thorn and his team. Isobel will be keeping an eye on us remotely.”

Claire bit her lip. “Is she capable of that? She looked near-death earlier from exhaustion.”

Hayley ran her fingers through her hair and let out a sigh. “Believe me I’ve had this discussion already. She says she can do it and that’s the end of it apparently. There’s no stopping that woman sometimes — she’ll keep going till she drops dead.”

That seemed to be the way with these people — Razakel was the same. On the verge of death and fighting harder than ever.

“Any sign of your friend?”

The hunter paused. He had been gone a while now. “I’m sure he’s caught arguing with his brother.” She replied with a conviction she didn’t feel.
I hope he is okay. Adrian should be with him.

Hayley pat her on the back and guided her towards the door. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. Stick with me and this should go smooth.”

Should.

The tunnels deep beneath Lychgate cemetery split into three paths veering into the darkness. With little indication which way was the right way the group split into three. Reiner, Cynthia and Locke took the middle path; the rest of the Night Guard divided amongst themselves. Their footsteps fading in the distance as each group advanced weapons at the ready. Reiner cursed beneath his breath as he smacked his exposed head against the low-hanging ceiling once again. He towered over Cynthia and Locke and often preferred not to wear his helmet — a decision which he soon regret. They continued on in single file; the tunnel narrow and claustrophobic. The walls slick with moisture and grime yet otherwise featureless rock. The sheen reflected the torch light erratically and conjured phantom lights further ahead that left them on edge. Whatever function these tunnels once served they lay buried beneath the city; forgotten and damp with mould and disuse. Their path twisted and turned as they crept under the thriving streets above. Any side rooms they encountered were locked and rusted shut with no signs of recent use.

“Hope the others are having more luck than us.” Cynthia wiped her brow with the back of her arm. The air was still and warm; the humidity almost unbearable in their plated mail.
What I wouldn’t give to be back home where it’s nice and cold.
Reiner grimaced as he ducked underneath another low-hanging arch.

In front of him Locke grunted. “We’re all reduced to glorified rat-catchers at present.”

“Any idea where we are?”

Sergeant Locke kept walking without saying anything for a while. The protracted silence seemed like he had ignored the question but he shook his head. “Could be anywhere. Under the mansions, heading out of the city limits or towards the sewerage plant. Couldn’t say.”

Reiner paused and pressed a finger to his lips. Over the constant dripping echoing throughout the underground tunnels he could hear a distant banging.

“Kill the light.” He whispered.

Locke complied, extinguishing the torch with his hand engulfed in water magic. They waited with bated breath as their eyes adjusted to the pervasive gloom. The distant noise started and stopped without warning. It didn’t sound like fighting to Reiner’s ears or the sounds of their Night Guard fellows. He squinted as his night vision returned, ahead of them they could make out a faint glow in the distance. An emerald glittered and faded.

“We’ve stumbled upon the rat’s nest.” Reiner checked his equipment and followed Locke’s lead. At the end of the passage the tunnel widened considerably allowing Reiner to stand tall for the first time in what felt like an age. Lamplight flickered through a wooden door left ajar and they tensed as they approached. Crossbow and spears at the ready they waited as Locke cautiously pushed the door open. The rusted hinge screamed in protest, the echo carrying the sound on for far longer. Nothing happened. No guards arrived. No sign of movement. No sign of notice. They crept into the room trying to salvage what little stealth they had left and swept for anything hostile. His heartbeat overwhelmingly loud in his ears he struggled to make out anything else. By some minor miracle their entry had gone unnoticed; perhaps the gods were on his side today.

The room itself was a large chamber divided almost in two by a series of shelves and storage crates. Lining each shelf were rusted chains, boxes of nails and broken tools. Were it not for the flickering flame lamp mounted on a desk the Caelite captain would have believed it abandoned and forgotten. One of the metal-grated doors on the farthest wall refused to budge and the key was nowhere to be found. He peered through the metal bars and saw more steps descending further below the city and a faint shimmer of light reflected by water.
Probably a sewer access tunnel.

He spun around spear poised upon hearing a clunk behind him. Locke had found an unlocked door leading into another series of storage rooms. Whomever was responsible for the light and noises must have gone through there. The flickering lamplight catching his silver-mask made it seem almost aflame itself. The effect was more unnerving than Reiner wished to admit.

They swept through room after room without any opposition until they reached a large chamber filled with stacks of empty coffins. A flickering fluorescent light bathed the room in a cold white light. Each coffin was either damaged or torn open. Nearby crowbars and wooden splinters left plenty of room for imagination. Wherever the remains were, their absence was notable, only the faint smell of decay lingered. Remnants emanating from their empty coffins. Instead Reiner could smell an unpleasant acrid odour that reeked of ash and smoke.

“We must be underneath the charnel house.” The taciturn sergeant shook his head. “I’d know that stench anywhere.”

Reiner nodded. His search throughout the city had mercifully avoided the charnel house and the factory district but there was no mistaking the smell of cremation and charred remains. The memory fresh from the pyres constructed following the undead attack on Caelumons. Cynthia gripped the metal bars blocking entrance to a decrepit lift. The metal cage dormant and locked on the bottom floor.

“Don’t think this has been used in a while.” She glanced up the elevator shaft and recoiled from the ashen smell. The cables dangling overhead were covered with cobwebs and remained stationary. “Seems they’ve found another source of bodies to desecrate.”

“Worse.” Locke strode towards some of the coffins and tapped the lid. “The charnel house disposes of any vampires we kill, suspected or otherwise. Plague victims too.” He raised a finger tinged with a viscous grey ooze.

“That’s disgusting.” Cynthia turned up her nose. “Keep that away from me I don’t want the plague.”

Locke smeared his finger across the faded velvet inside the coffin. “That ain’t the plague. You’d know if it were. Rots the flesh right off your bones.”

“How lovely.”

“Vamprey.” The sergeant paused to inspect the stakes strapped to his chest and the vials of holy water stored in a pouch around his waist. “Now we’re in familiar territory. Take one of these.” He handed them both a spare vial of holy water.

Great. So now it’s not just undead thralls and insane necromancers but we may have feral vampires on the loose.

“Seems you’re right sergeant.” Cynthia pointed towards the dust-covered floor. Overlapping drag marks were visible across the stone floor. Unpleasant brown smears visible across some of the rougher patches of stonework. Perhaps worst of all was the grey slime coating some of the floor.

Locke swore and hurried across the chamber following the marks in the dust. “You two ever fought a feral vamp before?”

They both shook their heads and followed him.

“Then I hope you’re a fast learner.”