The Veil (73 page)
Authors: Stuart Meczes
They’re retreating.
All at once the remaining Quiet Ones stopped fighting. Instead of surrendering, they all turned their weapons on themselves, slitting their own throats or pressing a gun to their temples. Spinning around on the spot, I watched as they all collapsed like robots disconnected from the central sever. In less than a minute, there was no one left to fight.
The battle was over.
Alex
The battle of Concavious already felt like a fading dream as the fleet of mercenary ships sailed across the now-calmed Dark Sea. I stood at the damaged bow of Zero’s vast warship, staring across the misty expanse of water that stretched out in front of me. The sky above was bleak, but Soren and Capis had managed to break through the thinner clouds in the distance, and the sunbeams that poured down seemed like celestial spotlights, showing us that we were heading in the right direction.
There was so much that I still didn’t know, it felt like my head was going to explode from the pressure of it all.
Are Gabriella and the others still alive? Is my father? Which colosseum are they being held in, and if we even manage to make it to the Shinroba, how can I be sure that the escaped Chosen will join me in taking the colosseum?
There was also the horrifying and very real possibility that one of my friends wasn’t who they said they were. And beyond all of that there was the mystery of what I’d seen in my visions.
What does it mean about Gabriella and me being the first, being part of the cycle? And what does the Sorrow once being a Reaper mean?
My head swam with all the questions that poured around it.
I’m going to find all of the answers, even if it kills me.
“Looking a bit troubled there, kid,” said Zero, appearing from behind me. He was carrying a glass tumbler with a double measure of strong smelling alcohol inside, and a cigarette pinched between his lips. The mercenary blew a puff of strong smelling smoke from his mouth as he limped over on his wounded leg and settled next to me. “Seems being the Sorrowslayer comes with quite a bit of baggage.”
“More than you could know.”
“Good thing I’m paid not to ask questions.”
“Bet you wish you’d never taken the job,” I said, staring out to sea.
“It would have been a hell of a lot less hassle, that’s for damn sure.” Zero gave a half-smile as he stared down at his drink. “Still, drama sorta comes with the job description.”
“But you lost men, and you lost your
home.
You can never go back to Concavious now. You killed four Lawbringers, you’d all be killed on sight. You can’t even spend the money that we’re going to give you. It only has value in the city you’ve just exiled yourself from.”
Zero shrugged. “There’s always people to trade with in this world. And like I said, sure it would’ve been less hassle if I’d never taken this job on. But truth be told, I was getting’ a bit bored of Concavious…and I don’t think I was the only one. Setting up shop in one place was the wrong thing to do…people like us don’t do well in cages. We’re nomads, always have been and always will. I think even that was the case before we all met each other, probably how most of us have managed to stay alive in such a messed up world. Well…” He paused and raised his glass up to the heavens and then proceeded to state the name of every single one of his mercenaries that he had lost in the battle. “Here’s to you guys,” he toasted and took a swig of the whisky.
“I’m really sorry about your people.”
“Thanks, kid.”
“My name’s Alex.”
“I know.”
We both gave a chuckle and then Zero offered the glass out to me. “For the fallen?”
“What is it?” I asked, taking the glass from him and smelling the rich, nutty scent of the reddish-brown liquid.
“Dalmore Sixty-Two Single Highland Malt Scotch.”
“I don’t know what that is,” I admitted, taking a sip and handing the glass back with a nod of approval. “I’ve never been much of a big drinker.”
“Give it time. You stay alive as a Chosen long enough and you’ll find some way to cope with the curse.”
I stared down into the water. “I’ve always had a feeling I’m not going to live very long, I’ve had it for as long as I can remember.” I gave a humourless laugh. “Probably even less now that I’m a Chosen.”
Zero took another swig from his drink and sighed. “Look, emotions ain’t my thing, but I will say this. I don’t see death in your future, kid. Not yet anyway. I ain’t ever seen anyone do the stuff you can do. It’s not just damn well impressive…it actually gives me hope.”
I turned towards the mercenary. “What do you mean?”
“I mean hope that there can actually be a good endin’ to all of this horrible business. Why do you think it is I never tried to go back through the Veil?”
“I just figured because you didn’t want to.”
“It was because I didn’t see the
point
. Tryin’ to run from the Ageless War is as futile as trying to stop the world from turning. It was always going to end with an invasion of Earth and we’d be right back in the thick of it. At least this way – being here – my guys and me can live our lives on
our
terms. But now…” he stared at me through narrowed eyes. “With someone with your skills fightin’ against Hades.” He gave a whistle. “Who knows what could happen?”
“Why do you think I’m trying to fight against Hades?”
“Call it an informed guess. Am I wrong?”
“Well…no. But there’s something else I need to do first.”
Zero nodded slowly. “Well shit…maybe there’s a chance you’ll even pop the bastard.”
“Why don’t you help us?” I said.
“What?”
“Stay with us once we reach Yornheim and help us with what we have to do next.” I turned to face the mercenary leader. “You’re good Zero and your mercenaries are good too. We could use you.”
“Sorry mate, I ain’t a charity case. I know you’ve got coin, but you ain’t got
that
much coin.”
“You don’t need to be a charity case. If you help us achieve our missions and get us back home in one piece, my leader will pay you whatever you want. I know he will.”
“Good old Sage Faru huh?”
I nodded. “Good old Sage Faru.”
Zero rolled the whisky tumbler around in his hand, staring down at the dark liquid. “I don’t know…we just lost a lot of good guys. Money aside, I ain’t sure the others will want to stick around with your team. You ain’t exactly brought us good fortune since you hired us.”
“You’re their leader Zero. I haven’t known you long, but I can already tell that they respect you. If you ask them to help us, they’ll follow you.”
Zero gave a chuckle. “Appealing to my ego. I like it.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Maybe.”
I could hear footsteps behind me and turned to see Delagio, Hollie and Danny approaching. They were wearing a number of bandages from the wounds they had sustained in the battle. Hollie had her arm wrapped around Danny’s waist, and he was leaning on her for support. There was a patch of gauze wrapped over his right eye; I felt a flash of guilt when I remembered how after the battle I’d been unable to transfer my gift of healing to fix his eye without Gabriella’s amplification of my powers.
If she were here then not only could I have stopped him going blind in one eye, but I could have probably saved a lot of the people who died.
Zero patted me on the shoulder and started to move away from me. “Ask me again when we reach the shores of Yornheim,” he said. “I’ll give you your answer then.”
The mercenary walked past the Guardians, giving them a nod as they crossed paths. They all came to a stop next to me, settling down against the railings and looking out into the distance.
“Hey kid?” said Zero. I turned around to look at him. “You’ve got me curious now. Let’s say I did agree to come with you. What’s next on the agenda?”
“Rescuing my friends and then destroying everything and everyone Hades cares about.”
Zero gave a chuckle. “Sounds fun.” The mercenary drained the last of his whisky and then vanished from view.
I turned to stare back out across the expansive stretch of ocean, with the fractured remains of Orion at my side.
The fate of Orion will conclude in The Rising.
Coming summer 2016.
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THE FULL LENGTH NOVEL FEATURES SCARLETT AND IS SET IN THE VICTORIAN ERA. MIXING GOTHIC HORROR, ACTION AND STEAMPUNK THE TENSE PREQUEL SHINES AN ENTIRELY NEW LIGHT ON THE WORLD OF THE HASEA:
Not much is known about the mysterious Vampire, Scarlett. Until now.
The year is 1872. A darker, more unforgiving Alliance is working in the shadows, struggling to keep order on the streets of London. Meanwhile in Ireland, a young girl is about to take up a position as scullery maid in the sinister Oakley Manor. It is a decision that will alter her life forever and send her on a path of destruction and death.
A path that leads right to the Alliance.
READ ON FOR A SAMPLE CHAPTER
A
silver-eyed man stalked across the skyline of Belfast, following his nose rather than his eyes.
The town around him seemed to breathe in unison, the calm breath of countless sleeping humans pouring from every direction.
He had no breath to call his own.
The man slipped from shadow to shadow, sweeping across the rooftops of the ramshackle houses like a fog. Somewhere nearby a clock tower chimed midnight, the clanging of its bell a harsh reminder of his delay.
Much longer and they’ll notice my absence.
He had been given an important job to do and so far that evening he had done it badly. One target left bleeding out in an alleyway, surrounded by policemen with terrible timing and not a single clue between them. Another was a drunken lout who had stumbled from a tavern to take a piss on the street, retching and burping as he released his stream. An easy target one would assume, but one who somehow had the wherewithal to slip from the silver-eyed man’s grasp when a friend had piled out the tavern to find him. The fool had run blindly through the streets, screaming at the top of his lungs, only to fall headfirst into the Lagan River. He had drowned of course, churning up water and splashing in the darkness while the silver-eyed man watched from a position of safety, unable to rescue him. Most of these people weren’t even worthy of the gift he wanted to give them, but so far he was running out of options.
He would not make a mistake the third time.
The scent he followed was a strong perfume that was almost overwhelming in its potency. It was joined by the taint of sweat that came from working long hours in a bad profession. However, neither of those things were what had drawn the silver-eyed man’s attention – he was following a darker part of the scent, one that justified his divine work. He drew closer to the source, the trail visible to him in the darkness as a silvery wave, which hovered and undulated in the air.
Soon afterwards he picked up sounds, his keen ears twitching like an animals. The sounds were words, and harsh ones at that, full of swearing and accusations. Speeding up, he hopped from rooftop to rooftop with expert precision, until he was peering over the top of the docks; the masts of the many ships stretching out in front of him like skeletal trees. Below was his target – a girl he knew worked at the bordello nearby. She was young, far too young to be in the profession she had found herself in. In the back of his mind a sensation stirred - something similar to sympathy, but far duller. The girl was pressed with her back against the wall, trapped by two men who were the source of the noise.
“Give me back mah money ya thievin’ whore.”
“I already told ya, I don’t ‘ave it!” insisted the girl, staring wildly between the two men.
One of them, tall and loaded with the muscles that came with dock labouring, shoved her hard into the wall. Her head snapped back, thudding against the stone. A rose of red bloomed from beneath her mousy hair. The big one’s friend – a short man with a stout gut formed of years of hard drinking – was scowling like a petulant child.
“You took it while we was cleanin’ ourselves up,” he barked.
“I only have what you paid me. You spent the rest on ale!”
“You stole it and we want it back.” The dockworker snatched her bag – a garish red to match the dress she barely wore. The strap snapped and the contents spilled onto the dock floor. Among the strewn items were a few pennies. Not enough money to do much of anything with, but the men snatched it from the ground regardless, stuffing it into their trousers.
“No, that’s mine!” the girl howled, attacking the men with a sudden ferocity, hitting and clawing at any part of them she could reach. Her nails raked across the face of the smaller one, drawing blood.
“Bitch!”
He responded by punching her in the stomach. Gasping, the girl collapsed to the ground, heaving and crying as the men proceeded to kick her relentlessly, all the while shouting abuse.
The silver-eyed man thought to himself for a moment.
Allow this poor wretch to die here tonight, or intervene and risk detection?
He could bear witness no more – what little left of a conscience he had would not allow it. Spilling over the rooftop like a yawning shadow, he landed without a sound behind the men. He seized the smaller one’s head at each temple and squeezed, crushing it as if it were an egg. Before the larger man could make a sound, the flesh of his throat was torn asunder, and he fell next to his friend, twitching as his life spilled out of him. The girl was screaming hysterically as the man knelt down and retrieved the coins from the dead men’s pockets. He held the blood-soaked pennies out to the cowering girl. His eyes flashed in the darkness.
“I believe these belong to you.”
The girl did not take the coins. Instead, her eyes rolled back into her head and she passed out. The silver-eyed man regarded her for a moment.
Well, at least this makes my task easier.
As gently as he could, he picked the unconscious girl up and jumped back onto the rooftops, allowing the shadows of Belfast to swallow them both.
