Two smart, black cars parked side-by-side outside an abandoned
building. Years of bombing had ruined it and left it haunted. One smart
car had already arrived and was also perfectly parked. As one, the
doors of the two new arrivals opened and out-stepped Scythe from one
and a slightly older man from the other. He had short hair of shocking
blonde, navy eye-shadow and red lipstick. He chose to wear a black
shirt with frills for a collar with tight black trousers of leather. If
one looked closely, it was possible to see dagger sheaths on his legs.
What was unusual about this sight was that two well-dressed men were stepping out of driver’s seats.
Scythe turned to the other. “She found one rather quickly.”
“The Bloodknife Gang are everywhere,”
reminded the other man without facing Scythe, in a surprisingly deep
voice. He walked towards the bombed building as if ignoring his
companion.
Scythe followed this man, who somehow bears a better
resemblance to Kiyor than he does, through a blasted-through arch
created decades ago. They easily walked into a hall, empty of
everything except littered rubble.
Scythe grunted. The older man quickly grabbed his
collar. The younger one was slightly surprised at the dagger against
his throat and the angry eyes boring into his. “I know what
you’re thinking!” he hissed. “You can’t
honestly carry the belief that our sister plays us like pawns.
We’re siblings!”
“As if that means anything in the Dark Kingdom,” the hostage chanted quietly.
“It means something to us, or have your
forgotten, baby brother?” The older shoved his brother away, his
dagger disappearing and meeting cold, threatening eyes. “You
always forget that your eyes strike no fear into your closest
kin.”
“Call it a habit,” retorted Scythe, just as quietly and delicately.
The brothers stared at each other in challenge.
A woman walked through an empty doorway several feet
ahead of them. Her make-up was dark purple, her thick hair was chest
length and honey-coloured. She wore a long, black, shoulder-less dress
of leather and a golden ornate chain surrounding the base of her neck.
She stared ahead of her.
“Cadell? Scythe?” she called out. Her brothers approached.
“Failing eyesight, Sassaren?” asked Scythe casually, however he adorned a grin.
Coming closer, they could see one of her blood-smeared hands holding a bloody knife.
“Old age will affect you too, baby
brother,” she stated formally. She stepped forward to meet them.
“You two missed the fun,” she lightly taunted with a faint
smile.
“Did he provide a lead?” asked Cadell.
Sassaren looked at her brother questioningly.
“No. The gang only tracked Rowan because they were paid to kill
her by another family.”
“A lesser family afraid of the Kirilians then,” realised the elder of the brothers.
“Probably even more now that they’ve
learned Dorania has possible Vilkon support,” added Scythe.
A man who was possibly Hawk’s father appeared
behind Sassaren, dragging a groaning mass of ripped clothes and bloody
carvings.
“Kill him and dump him somewhere,” she ordered without turning.
Kiyor and Rowan walked along the streets. They were led by a slouching,
dark blue Demon who appeared to be made out of leather. He was quite
lanky and seemed too tall for himself, which explained the long tail.
He had claws, no hair, no rags, but small horns lined his head. His
eyes were corn-yellow.
“Can’t you sense anything Barracha-hachi?” asked Rowan.
“Nothing,” the Demon answered. His voice was inhumanly deep.
“It seems more likely that the Coven is somewhere underground,” she perceived.
Without turning his head and speaking in his neutral
tone, Kiyor asked: “And how’d you figure that out?”
“In my experiences of dealing and negotiating,
I find people are often under-ground or protected to avoid exposure to
unwanted visitors. This is achieved by either setting up another
institution behind a front or hiding underground, inaccessible unless
you have the correct knowledge.”
“There is truth to what she says,”
confirmed the Demon with his deep voice. “Spells are often cast
within walls, so many Sorcerers and Warlocks conduct magic in buildings
or underground crypts.”
“Can you sense magic underground from here?” asked Kiyor calculatingly.
“Yes.”
“Tell us when you detect even a dot of
magic,” the Vilkon ordered, almost threatening. They continued
walking.
“It seems odd that there has been no attempt
to find or capture me,” reported the Kirilian, after a few
minutes.
“I sense magic,” reported the Demon. “Some is faint, some is very close.”
“What spells do they involve?” enquired Rowan.
“Mmm…they are often moving. The magic is stronger nearer here.”
Kiyor commanded quietly. “Keep it quiet, tell us when we’re very close to the magic.”
The three passed about 5 alleys before the Demon
gave a warning in a rumbling whisper: “We are very close.”
“Head to the left alley,” ordered Kiyor in a whisper. “Quickly.”
They rushed into the alley and went far inside it. The dead end was in a form of a fence.
“Where is it?” asked Rowan in a whisper
to the Demon. He pointed to the fence. She gently stepped away from it,
her face showing no fear but calculation.
Voices could be heard on the other side. “The target is close.”
“Too bad we can’t tell where she is.”
“I guess we’ll have to search all over.”
“It’ll take a while; she can move too you know.”
“We’ll just have to be quick then.”
Footsteps and gravel scrapes could be heard in
variety. A lot of them were quiet, but they gradually became louder.
Kiyor turned away from the fence. “Is there
any magic in that direction?” he asked in a whisper, also
pointing roughly in front of him.
“About a mile away,” the Demon rumbled in a whisper.
“Then we go that way,” Kiyor whispered,
then he ordered: “Go! Quickly.” They rushed out of the
alley.
The two humans ended up in front of the Demon. At
Rowan’s signal, they slowed from a run, then walked. They
travelled some distance, then the Demon once more warned of magic in
close proximity. They reached a neighbourhood of family-sized houses
with gardens. In this area, all the lights were off. A small group of
people appeared in the distance, carrying something lightly glowing.
The three dashed into an alley on their right. Kiyor peeked from the
corner. The group of people stepped to the left: away from where they
should be looking.
He jumped up the fence, scrambled up, swung his legs over and tenderly seated himself.
“Lift her up,” he quietly ordered the Demon.
He obliged by lifting Rowan up, where both pairs of
male hands guided her to the top of the fence. She found herself
sitting awkwardly on the thin ridge. She kept her balance as she
carefully swung her legs over the top.
“When you land, crouch down,” advised Kiyor quietly.
Rowan jumped off, she landed in a crouch but the
landing was made awkward by her high-heels, causing her to topple to
her side. She had landed a slight distance away from the fence. Kiyor
quickly jumped down, crouched, then easily stood up. The Demon lightly
jumped up-high-and held the top of the fence with straight arms and his
upper body above the fence. He easily lifted his legs up and moved so
that he crouched on the top of the fence. He bounced down as a child
sprung down a step; he landed standing.
Rowan stood up. They were in a well-kept garden.
Kiyor inspected the houses. There was no reaction to their movement. He
faced his companions.
“This is what we’ll do,” he told
them quietly. “We’re going to keep looking for the Coven,
but we’ll also avoid the people with the amulets.” He
looked at the Demon. “You tell us if any magic is nearby.”
Kiyor walked to a small gate at the end of the
garden. Behind it was a walkway that had an even taller fence on the
other side. To the left, from the garden but in the walkway, was a tall
gate of wood. He opened the small gate and walked into the walkway. The
others followed him. The Demon took care to quietly close the gate
behind him.
The three walked along the odd corridor; fence on
the left and gardens on the right. The space was narrow so only one
person at a time could occupy the space. It was when they could see
another corridor, between two buildings, across an alley and in the
distance that the Demon warned of more magic coming.
“Lift me up slightly,” Rowan whispered.
The Demon lifted Rowan so that her feet didn’t
touch the ground. They quietly and carefully walked along. When they
heard a voice, they did not halt their steps.
“It’s glowing real strong,” said one. “She must be really close.”
“I can’t see her anywhere.”
“Can’t it grow stronger?”
“I doubt it, it’s too blinding.”
“She must be hiding.”
“And someplace rather close.”
“She’s on the other side of this fence.”
“Where’s the entrance?”
As the voices bickered, Kiyor quietly opened the
gate that led into the alley. He held it open as the Demon quickly
carried Rowan across to the other corridor, where she was put down.
Kiyor quickly closed the gate, only letting a small tap escape as
sound, then he dashed across to the corridor. He beckoned the others
forward. As footsteps faded in the corridor, the group with the shining
amulet appeared at an end of the alley and searched.
For several metres, the corridor was made up of
brick buildings. Then on each side appeared gardens with gates, all
behind terraced houses. The group jogged along here, until Kiyor said
to take the first right. A small corridor turned off the one they were
on and went between two houses. They went along here and appeared at a
neighbourhood of terraces on their side and smaller blocks of flats
opposite them, across the road. There were a few groups of lower-class
Dark Citizens along this road, revealed so by their patched, slashed or
badly kept clothing.
“Magic is near,” the Demon warned in a rumbling whisper.
“Run straight ahead Rowan,” whispered Kiyor.
They ran into the middle of the neighbourhood and
entered an alley between two blocks. Not many paid attention to them
but some cast suspicious looks at the Demon.
They hurried along the alleys and corridors. The
buildings increased in size. Corridors changed from brick, to fence, to
brick walls or buildings again.
“Many magics are very close,” rumbled the whispering Demon, now quite breathless.
Rowan stopped. “We should catch our breath,” she suggested in a panting whisper.
The three took a few minutes to catch their breath.
They were standing between large Skyscrapers, dominated by windows but
reinforced by hidden steel and exterior concrete. At the sides were the
usual metal steps providing swift exit in emergency. Every seven
stories or so, there was a locked door, double-glazed and of white
plastic. The first was on ground floor. At the very top of both
buildings were 4 white statues of fairies, standing on each of the four
corners. In the darkness, they seemed nothing more than dark
silhouettes.
“Barracha-hachi,” addressed Kiyor in a
whisper. “We won’t search any more. You go back home, but
avoid the people with magic. If you find another group, tell them that
Rowan and I are in the Secret Place. Understand?” The Demon
nodded. He hurried away without a word.
Kiyor took out a set of keys, went to the door on
his right and used one of the keys to open it. He beckoned Rowan
inside. Once inside, he went in and locked the door. They were in a
corridor, not of the most spacious however. The moonlight clearly
highlighted the other door so far away at the other end. In the middle
was darkness.
Kiyor ignored the unused lift on the right and led Rowan into the dark middle.
“Where are we going?” enquired Rowan quietly.
“We’re going to my parent’s
apartment, it’s a few levels up,” Kiyor explained
mechanically.
“Why didn’t you take the lift we passed?”
“It might cause movement and attract attention.”
“So the lights remain off for the same reason,” worked out Rowan.
“You haven’t been in many apartment buildings, have you?” realised Kiyor.
They stopped. This was the middle of the corridor
but large windows on a side, in between flats and behind sitting space,
shone light on the two lifts. Kiyor pressed a button next to one,
causing an arrow to light up. With the usual sounds, doors opened
immediately. They stepped in. He pressed a button marked
‘11’, causing the doors to close and the lift to ascend.
There were mirrors on the sides and the light seemed to shine a golden
light. Rowan stood and stared straight ahead. Her companion found a key
within his keys.
The doors opened and Kiyor led Rowan to the right,
leading her to a door at the far end of the corridor. At this last
door, Kiyor opened it and beckoned Rowan inside. The flat seemed
metallic, the effect perhaps amplified by the moonlight. Directly in
front was a kitchen, with a table and chairs. Behind that was a wall
with an embedded closed door; this wall dominated a fraction of the
apartment and shaped a cuboid. On the right were sofas. In this part of
the flat, was a wall made completely of glass. On one side was a black
sofa designed to be lain on, with half of it partially raised.
Kiyor dropped his keys on a small table and closed
the door. “You can stay here tonight. Beyond that door in the
wall is my Parents’ Room.” He guided her to the side of the
cuboid wall, where there was another door. He flicked a switch.
“You can wash up in there.”
Rowan opened the door, which revealed a bathroom
(without a bath). “Thankyou,” she said without gratitude or
facing Kiyor.
She closed the door behind her. She rinsed her
unmade face, then took the cup available, filled it with water and
gurgled. When she had finished, she stared at herself in the mirror;
for the longest time. She was pale, stony, but a little flushed from
tonight’s sudden exercise. She glanced at the door on her left:
the one she didn’t enter by. She opened it and peeked through.
The bedroom was neat. The king-sized bed was against the wall, two
wardrobes were at the side, a window was above the bed. The bed cover
appeared to be coloured a bright lilac. On one wall hung a framed photo
of Kiyor’s parents in their younger days, another one was of the
entire family; Kiyor was a very small boy. She was unable to see their
faces in the dark. She closed the door.
She went out of the bathroom and looked along the
wall for a switch. She found it and flicked it. She closed the door and
turned around. The sight she beheld stunned her.
Kiyor was lying on the raised sofa. He seemed to be
sleeping but was so still, such a statue. The moonlight outlined his
perfectly formed body, the upper covered by no clothing. He seemed so
pale, like marble. So still. No emotion.
The stillness kept Rowan fixed. Out of intense
curiosity, she walked towards him. Him being so still; her steps, slow,
loud, echoing. After an eternity, she stood by him, looking down at
him. He did not move. She carefully sat down on the side of what he lay
on. He was not disturbed. Slowly, she brought her hand to his face;
tenderly, she stroked his scars.
He opened his eyes. His dark brown eyes locked her
dark blue ones. He thought that she had never looked so beautiful,
being lined by the moonlight like marble. She drew her hand away,
moving to stand but he grabbed her arm. She stopped.
He sat up, eyes always locked. He kissed her, on the
lips, ever so tenderly. She gave in to this sign of sweetness. Quite
soon, their arms were locked in a loving embrace. The effect seemed
like ice melting: at first there were merely trickles of water,
trailing along the ice. But as their lovemaking became more passionate,
pools of water appeared, engulfing the ice. The water that flowed, made
the air seem so much warmer and welcome…and loving.