Necrophobia (24 page)

With sunset approaching the city was bathed in an orange-red glow. Curfew would be in a few hours and already the city was beginning to wind down. The sunlight glittered off the nearby sea as waves sprayed upwards across the docks. The streets were thinning as the factories closed in accordance with the new curfew laws and the workers filed out. Each of them caked in filth and exhausted from the long hours. Besides the seagulls flocking overhead and the distance guardsman patrolling the area was still and almost peaceful. Claire took up position next to Hayley her face hidden beneath the silver masks of the Night Guard. They were each awaiting a signal from Inspector Thorn’s team before they moved into the building. The Greywell trading company warehouse was a large complex of storage units surrounded by smaller auxiliary buildings. One of the largest warehouses within the city limits it contained a small dock built inside it where a ship named
The Watchman
was currently docked. Built from bland brickwork and coated in sheets of corrugated iron to shield it from the sea-spray and constant rainfall it was an eyesore to behold.

“Our informant reckons she’s holed up in the basements below the warehouse getting ready.” Hayley whispered. “Thorn’s team will deal with most of the guards. We’ll be playing a supporting role today.”

“I understand.” Claire kept a watchful eye on the open courtyard. Seagulls picked through the litter and perched atop storage crates kept outside.

“It’s not glamorous but you’re new and Niklaus and I don’t always see eye to eye.”

Claire was glad the Night Guard helmet covered her face. “I’d noticed, yeah.”

“He has his reasons.” Hayley shrugged. “Doesn’t help I’ve been given special privileges either. He otherwise outranks me.”

“How long have you worked for the Night Guard?”

Shielding her eyes from the sun she stared out to sea watching another ship coming into a nearby dock. Her mask was almost blinding in its reflective sheen. “Sixteen years give or take.”

It seemed unusual to Claire that after sixteen years Hayley remained a constable. Perhaps she found a niche as a detective-constable and enjoyed it. She withheld her questions and remained alert and watched for anything suspicious.

Beside her Hayley placed a hand to one side of her helmet and nodded. Seconds later Claire heard a voice inside her own head.

<
They’re in.
>

Isobel’s voice sounded strange; it possessed an ethereal quality to it of being both point blank range and yet somehow distant and strained.

Understood.
Claire thought in response. She wasn’t sure how Isobel expected her to reply given her own lack of psychic abilities but she assumed there might be some mind-reading involved at the very least. It was both comforting and disquieting to think Isobel was watching over their progress. Invisible and intangible yet she could feel her presence. A ghost drifting throughout the complex scanning minds and barking instructions.

Hayley remained silent and waved Claire towards her as they entered the warehouse through a side door. In the distance Claire could hear the sounds of a fight as Thorn and his officers engaged warehouse security. Their job was to prevent any stragglers escaping and support the Night Guard when possible. It was an unusual yet exciting experience. As a hunter she often worked alone with only her skill and wits to keep her alive; having backup made a pleasant change.

<
Natascha is not on the ship. Nothing has gotten out, the place is surrounded. She must be below. It’s shielded so I can’t see down there just yet. Watch your back in there.>

Detective-Constable Rosenfeld nodded once again. Claire surmised Isobel’s message reached them simultaneously and kept quiet. The hunter stood guard with her short-bow drawn and ready as Hayley locked the door behind them and removed the key. Inside the warehouse the air was cool and with a slight chill in the air. Motes of dust drifted lazily through the beams of light coming in through the high windows. The warehouse was cavernous on the inside and filled with storage crates stacked upon each other blocking their view of the area. Above them chains and hooks swung in a mild breeze coming in through cracks in a glass window. The metal clinking and rattling overhead whenever a stronger wind hit. Hayley lead the way through the maze of storage crates and lumber, sweeping each corner and nook with her crossbow. For all her friendly demeanour she possessed the same cold and ruthless professionalism in her work the other Night Guard did. They encountered no-one as they progressed through the warehouse; either the place was manned by a skeleton crew or Thorn’s direct approach had caught all of their attention.

“Where’s our informant?” Claire almost slipped on the floor and narrowly avoided crashing into Hayley.

“Below. He’ll be staying out of trouble.”

Claire looked at her feet and saw a fresh pool of blood she’d slipped upon. Nearby a faint but unmistakable bloody hand-print was smeared down a crate marked ‘Elixir’.

“That’s not our handiwork.” Hayley remarked tracking the blood trail. It was clear someone had been injured and stumbled through the warehouse but the other officers hadn’t been anywhere near them. “Something else is going on here.”

One of the metal crates nearby was severely dented and damaged in a struggle and another lay torn open. Phials of plague elixirs inside were shattered and leaking out of the crate in a yellow-brown puddle. The protective padding lining the box shredded and soaked.

“No crossbow, sword or axe did this.” The detective-constable stroked her hand across the huge gash in the crates of elixir. “Isobel?”

They waited several moments surveying the area with a watchful eye as paranoia crept up on them.

“Must be busy.” Claire offered with a levity she didn’t quite feel.

“Or perhaps she’s blocked by whatever anti-psychic measures they’ve employed here.”

“Is that a common practice here?”

“For a warehouse? No.”

“They must have something to hide then.” Despite her fear Claire felt excitement bubble up inside her. She lived for the hunt, for another challenge to overcome.

Hayley nodded and they continued following the trail of devastation and drips of blood.

“How do you make a psy-shield?” Claire whispered after they investigated a side-room as empty and lifeless as the main hall. The break room for the guards showed no sign of a fight or anyone using it in the past hour or so. “Is it an artefact?”

“Can be.”

“If we find and destroy it would that dispel the shield?”

“Let’s hope so—” A slam behind them made them almost jump out of their skin. Weapons drawn they advanced and circled around the nearest stack of crates covering each other’s approach. Her hand trembling as she kept the bowstring tight she was relieved to see one of the crates had fallen over. Between the battle within the warehouse and the sloppy stacking it was inevitable she supposed. She listened out trying to hear for anything else but the warehouse was silent and empty, only the distant sounds of the sea crashing against the port and their heavy breathing muffled by their masks. On the one hand she cursed the masks. They were stifling warm and unpleasantly sweaty. Though designed to preserve as much of her peripheral vision as possible she still felt enclosed and her senses dulled. On the other hand the beating Hayley’s sustained without her dying or suffering any long-term injury was reassuring. They retraced their footsteps with great caution, never lowering their weapons for a second.

“We’ll either find answers in the basement or someway to disable that psy-shield.” Hayley tugged at some of the utility straps holding her equipment in place. “With any luck we’ll be able to regroup with Thorn and his team.”

“Does this happen often?”

She’d expected more fighting and shouting when Inspector Thorn had kicked his way in and neutralised any resistance but they’d heard very little. A battle had been fought through the warehouse but with no bodies or sign of the Night Guard it was difficult to say what happened. Working on the assumption Isobel was blocked by a psy-shield they’d wandered into range of they worked their way towards the basement. Neither of them wanted to give voice to the alternative that she was unable to astral-project due to exhaustion or injury. Her support had been fleeting yet comforting and now they were cut off its absence was more palpable.

“No.”

Below the streets of Kriegsfeld an abomination stalked the forgotten maintenance tunnels and sewer access ways. Reiner, Cynthia and Locke followed the trail slick with unidentifiable fluids and the scent of corruption high in the air. Even over the hum of fluorescent lamps installed beneath the surface and the drips of accumulated moisture pooling on the murky floor they could hear it in the distance. Guttural groans reverberated throughout the winding tunnels; each strangled cry an inhuman lamentation of despair and suffering. Chains rattled and scraped across the ground as the beast shuffled away, leaving deep gouges in its wake.

Locke hurried forwards keeping his crossbow drawn and at the ready before waving his Caelite allies with silent hand-movements. They caught sight of a towering misshapen form lurching ahead of them, blocked in shadow as the white glow flickered. Wrapped in chains with two handlers cloaked in hoods at either side they dragged the beast along; heedless of the armoured group behind them.

Reiner couldn’t take his eyes off the chained figure, it was hunched and almost twice as tall as him. Each reluctant footstep heavy and without grace, the creature was powerfully built and gave the impression of a deformed mass of muscle. Strange spikes jutted at odd angles from the creature distorting its silhouette and scraping into walls as it resisted it captors. Though cloaked in shadows, an eerie yet familiar green glow emanated from the abomination casting a foul light upon the two cloaked figures ahead of it.

“That’s no Vamprey!” Locke whispered as loud as he dared.

Cynthia offered no response, instead her eyes never left the shambling horror and her knuckles whitened around her spear.

“Whatever it is we can’t allow it to exist.” Reiner hissed and moved closer to support Locke.

Their folly had taken them into a larger series of more spacious chambers lit by torch light casting flickering shadows across the room. The roof held up by archways throughout the chamber. The scattered coffins lent it the look of an undercroft. In the corners they could see crude wooden benches laden with hacksaws and other tools. Stacks of crates and barrels littered the edges of the chamber. Locke took up position behind one of the archways and peered around at the three figures. The cultists paused to investigate one of the benches whilst the blasphemy in chains twitched and became anxious. Reiner and Cynthia fanned out around the chamber, hoping to surround the unholy congregation. With a mutual nod they counted down from three with hand signals before leaping out of cover. Locke’s crossbow discharged a silver bolt directly into the back of one of the cloaked figures with a wet thud. The cultist flew forwards and smashed into the bench before sliding towards the floor. As he died the chain holding the abomination fell to the floor with a clatter. Seeing the death of his companion the other cultist threw his chains to the ground and ran. Cynthia’s bolt of lightning missed him by inches as he ducked and weaved through the archways and pillars. The blinding flash of blue light forced them to shield their eyes. Cynthia ran towards the fleeing cultist cursing between breaths as he scurried up a flight of stone steps.

“Forget him!” Locke shouted as he took cover behind another thick pillar and hurried to reload his crossbow.

Reiner saw the beast for the first time as it turned to survey its liberators. It was an abomination like nothing he’d ever seen; a blasphemy formed from stolen flesh and bones. Even hunched forwards, its broad rippling shoulders almost reached the ceiling. To call the creature humanoid was an insult. Its foul body sewn together without concern for aesthetics. The blasphemy’s gigantic arms were thicker than Reiner’s torso, the flesh discoloured and seeping with ichor. Bands of stolen muscle coiled around it like snakes and pulsated with each movement. Each of its limbs assembled from a different donor and fused with blasphemous magic and ragged stitching. Spikes of bone erupted out of the creature at odd angles, its back resembled an inverted and open ribcage of jutting bone and tissue.

“Great gods!” Reiner shouted in disbelief. He stepped back involuntarily before unleashing his own lightning magic directly into the horror. Tendrils of electrical energy snaked down the monster’s twitching arms and muscles. The creature’s eyeless and indistinct head watched Reiner’s movements with unerring accuracy. Green flames billowed and erupted out of the abominations mouth as it thundered towards him. Its face little more than a misshapen cavernous maw of mismatched teeth and bones. Two great mandibles of sharp bone lined the corners of its top and bottom jaw that clacked and rattled together. It roared in protest as Reiner’s magic surged through it. Reiner stumbled backwards and shielded his face from the hot foetid air and deafening sound.