The Ghost and the Darkness Volume 1 (The Fallocaust Series Book 2) (57 page)

The sprint towards the small cluster of houses was quiet, the silence only broken up by the occasional update from Reaver who was, now more than ever, climbing anything that would give him a better view. There was little to update though, the plane had landed and there it had stayed.

We followed the road now, passing cars that sat where they had died, just shells of red corrosion sometimes stuffed with fabric and dried grass from abandoned radrat nests. They lined the streets like planted coffins, houses on either side doomed to tend these graves until time ceased going forward.

I looked behind me as Reaver and Perish both broke off into different houses. Killian was beside me with a fast heartbeat and a throat that swallowed his fear every several minutes.

With eyes that barely blinked Killian watched the city in the distance, keeping close to the telephone booth Reaver had told us to stay beside. I knew his fears were not for himself, but for his black-eyed boyfriend and the king that stalked him. I wondered if he truly grasped the reality of what would happen if Silas ever got Reaver.

We walked into the small town, still keeping dead silent, but as we diverted from the main road I felt a change in Reaver’s dark aura, a fluxuation of unease that was suddenly matched with Killian’s. My eyes swept the small suburban structures around us, single-storey ranchers both standing and fallen, all surrounded by twists of metal and thick barked trees; some trees acting as such solid barriers they enclosed the front yard like a thicket.

“This town isn’t abandoned...” Reaver said under his breath. He gave Killian a sideways glance before he walked closer to the boy, shielding him as much as he could without making it obvious.

I smelled the air and tried to tune my hearing, the nervousness starting to claw up my stomach and into my throat. It was faint, so faint only a chimera could smell it, but it was there: smoke, and the vague aroma of dried sweat and dirt.

The deeper we got into the town the more obvious it became, animal bones stashed in corners and tire rims charred black from use. Every sign we saw brought another surge of nerves to the group, until finally it was enough for Reaver.

We were all holding guns by now, and with a quick check to make sure Killian had enough ammo he brought us to a small two-storey house. “Perish, stay with Killian... Jade, you’re coming with me.”

Me? He usually stashed me with the mortal boy. I resisted the urge to show pride in being trusted to scout with him and gave him a serious nod, fingering the handgun on my side and making sure my combat knife was snugly beside it. Though with the pride came the fear. This wasn’t Moros and in no way my element, but it was a hell of a lot better than being hidden in the house with Killian like I was a lion cub.

“Perish... if anyone comes near this house shoot them no matter what Killian says, alright?” Reaver whispered.

Killian normally would’ve given him a look for that comment but the boy was too worried. Perish didn’t speak, only nodded, before putting a hand on Killian’s back and directing him into the house.

When they were gone we started down a road with deep fissures that separated pavement from ash, splitting the road open like fresh wounds. Like Reaver I tried to follow my nose towards the burning fire, but the faint smell of smoke seemed to have combined itself with the usual musty smell of decaying houses. It sank in everywhere, imbedding itself in every porous location, muddling my sense of smell making it almost impossible to pinpoint its source.

“We’ll stay here for tonight and move on tomorrow.” This made my head jerk towards Reaver, his tone suddenly switching from a hushed whisper to a normal even tone.

“If there are people here, we’ll tell them we don’t mean them any harm.”

Then I heard it, a slight shuffling in one of the buildings, and out of the corner of my eye a movement in one of the windows that disappeared like a silverfish in daylight. I realized then we were being followed; Reaver had probably known since we had entered the town.

“Well, we have lots of food to share either way... and booze.” I shrugged, feeling an itch in my fingers to just bring out my assault rifle and start shooting. But by now I knew Reaver, I had known Reaver since we were young teenagers; he didn’t need prompting to open fire on people. I had to trust his cues and follow his lead.

The tension radiated off of us, Reaver was rigid, his black eyes fixed beams of dark energy. I knew what he was waiting for, for them to make the first move. We had to play human, with human ears and human senses, even though the both of us could hear the people shifting around the houses, like cannons going off in an open auditorium.

We rounded a corner, hugging the far corner to give us as much visibility of the next road as we could. I was glad he did too, when we crossed a two-lane intersection we were greeted with two people holding guns.

Two men, dressed in dark greasy clothes mismatched and sewn together in a half-assed fashion. Immediately they drew their guns, just as the people behind us made themselves known. A weak attempt to ambush, with one whistle the dog would be here, and Killian and Perish.

“Now looky what we have here,” one of them said, pointing his scuffed assault rifle right at my face. “Funny how fate just ends up working out, eh? We could get a lot of money for you two.”

Reaver stared at him, before glancing behind his shoulder at another man coming out of a house. “Well, we’re not rats, so I am assuming you’re slavers. Is this your base or are you migrating?”

The man pointing the gun in my face chuckled; he was missing one of his incisors and his tongue had a thick scar on it like someone had once tried to cut it out.

“Brash one, isn’t he? We’re slavers, and who are you?”

Who
were
we? Reaver would sort that out, and he did, without missing a beat. “My name is Merrik; this is my personal slave Mikey. We also have a deacon dog which helps protect us from people who would do us harm, and two others with better looking guns than the ones you’re carrying. We intend to spend the night here and carry on in the morning, unless you have a problem with that? Which I am half-hoping you do.”

Fucking hell, please do not have a problem with this... I didn’t want to be in the middle of a gun fight.

“Merrik, eh? Merrik with a slave, interesting.” I saw the one pointing his gun at Reaver lower it slightly, but the one on me didn’t budge. “You look rather well-groomed for a traveller, Merrik. Are you a legion deserter?”

“No.” Reaver looked over at me; I was still staring at the gun. “Lower your guns and I can tell you over a drink. I am not hostile yet, but keep pointing a gun at my pet’s face and I will become a problem quickly.”

“You need to watch your mouth boy or –” Suddenly there was a sharp laugh, both Reaver and I turned around to see a man leaning up against the warped patio deck.

He looked at us over the rim of a black dust-stained panama hat, and smiled a smile that I was immediately wary of. It was a natural smile, not forced or brought on to enforce a false sense of calm. It was a natural grin. And since there was, to us anyways, nothing to smile about... I didn’t like it.

“Stop sticking guns in people’s faces, does that mother fucker look like a face you wanna fuck with?” The man, probably in his thirties, sauntered up to Reaver and me, as he did the other two lowered their guns. “They’re healthy, and they have Skyfall eyes. The last thing I want is a legion bug up my ass... who the fuck are you two?”

Reaver didn’t take his eyes off of him, and like the man had Reaver looked him up and down. He had brown hair hidden under that rimmed hat, and a faded brown leather jacket unzipped over several layers of shirts.

Though his observation of this man was only physical, mine could be more. I tuned my aura and brought up the colours surrounding him.

Grey and orange, an interesting combination and deceptively heavy though most greywaster auras were. For a slaver he wasn’t necessarily bad, but as slave-driving arians went he wasn’t a thick cloud of shit either. I didn’t trust him, obviously, but I also had the reassurance that he wasn’t going to kill us, at least not before Reaver’s mouth gave him a reason to.

“I already said as much as I want... I am Merrik and this is Mikey. We –”

I cut in; I didn’t need any more reminders that Reaver had no social skills, not to mention he now didn’t fear death.

“We were chased out of Kreig by those lizard things. We’re tired and we need to rest before we bugger off. None of us give a shit that you’re slavers. We just need a night or two to crash.”

The man tilted his head up as he gave me the once over. “Yellow eyes. You two are Skyfallers, eh?”

“I am not a –”

“We’re defectors and the two others are greywasters,” I answered before Reaver could finish his sentence. “Just travellers, that’s all. Are you going to let us crash in one of these houses are not?”

“You mentioned booze?” The man eyed us with a certain glint that any man who lacked good swill had. I had the same glint whenever the drugs came out.

Reaver put his bag down, and with that gesture everyone raised their guns. He didn’t care though; he opened the bag and took out two bottles of vodka. “There, that’s all you’re getting. Deal or not?”

I never understood how greywasters communicated; it wasn’t a way I was used to.

Sometimes I swear they could stare at each other and grunt and by that gesture alone they could figure one another out.

Either way, the man, who I now assumed was the leader, nodded towards Reaver and picked up the booze. “We’re clearing out once we fix a few malfunctioning collars anyways. We don’t own this shithole, we’re just squatting. Sure, Merrik, you camp in a house for a few nights.” He handed the bottles to the man who had been pointing the gun at me, and held out a hand towards Reaver. Reaver stared at it for a moment before his social skills kicked in. He took the slaver’s hand and shook it.

The man grinned; his light green eyes alight with curiosities over these two newcomers and their vodka “My name is Hopper, and I won’t bring you any trouble if you bring none to me.”

“And if you step a foot inside our house or think you’re quick enough to take us as slaves... you will find more trouble than you could ever imagine,” Reaver growled, grabbing the slavers hand so hard he flinched.

Hopper laughed and all I could do was shake my head.

Killian needed to teach this boy some social skills.

Chapter 20

Jack

The previous night

Jack ran his gloved fingers over the smooth polished wood, braided in such a beautiful way over the banister of King Silas’s bed. He had always loved this bedroom, though a few of his chimera brothers have come to dread their summons from the Ghost King.

Well, only Elish and Jade. Everyone else quite enjoyed it.

Satisfied and content Jack looked over at the king, sleeping soundly after more than a handful of hours in each other’s embrace. He would be asleep for the next five hours and as always Jack was free to go when he was ready. His summons from King Silas were no out of the ordinary thing, like Garrett, Artemis, and Apollo (which he loved requesting together) or the younger generations, usually two weeks didn’t go by without that phone call.

“Oh, doesn’t he just look so adorable while he sleeps.” Jack glanced up to see his brother Sanguine casually saunter into the room.

The sengil-chimera, with black hair that brushed his jaw line, a thin face and two blood-red eyes strolled up to the bed holding two glasses of wine. When Jack made eye contact with him he smiled, revealing two rows of pointed teeth.

Jack returned the smile showing his own. They were some of the only chimeras to be born with such an enhancement. Chimera Ds as they had been labelled, though most of the time they were called as they referred to themselves as: the demon-chimeras.

“Yes, our king who killed the world... I swear if he wouldn’t rip off my face I would hold him like the little darling he is while he naps.” Jack brushed away a loose strand of wavy blond hair from the king’s face and took the glass of wine. Then, as he took a drink of the coppery liquid, he rose to a sitting position in the bed and drew the flannel sheet over his slender naked body. “He has been a rather rough customer as of late. I can tell he is wanting our greywaster chimera in his bed. I suppose besides you and Nero I am the best candidate for giving him the rough fuck he needs. God knows Elish is dodging every invitation he can right now,” Jack replied.

Sanguine seemed amused by this; he swirled the blood wine in his cup and took a long drink. “Well, since Elish’s pet is recovering in the greyrifts it’s no wonder his mood is soured. He –”

Both of them paused as a quick pulse of beeps could be heard, a noise Jack had been hearing since he had been given the job of Grim Reaper, or Grim as they called him.

“Drake? Juni was tossing the ball for him on the roof; perhaps he chased it off the edge again?” Sanguine said bemused, tilting his head towards Jack.

Jack looked over at the sleeping Silas before raising the wristwatch-type device on his hand.