‘Call them off, Bram,’ shouted Waylian, grabbing him by the lapels of his robe and slamming him back to the tiled roof. ‘Call them off!’
He slammed Bram down again, smashing his head against the rooftop.
‘Fuck you,’ Bram answered, punching out with his manacled hands and catching Waylian under the chin.
Blood spurted into his mouth as Waylian was thrust backwards, falling from Bram and splashing in a puddle on the roof. As he foundered, Bram stood up, glaring down with black eyes.
‘I’ll destroy this fucking city,’ Bram said, black smoke emanating from his hands as they began to elongate, talons springing from their tips. ‘But first I’ll destroy you like I should have done last time.’
Waylian could taste the copper tang of blood on his lips, his head spun, but still he managed to focus on Bram. In the air his former friend was tracing a sigil with those black talons, magicks of the most dark and evil nature. Waylian could feel something stirring from beyond the Veil, could sense whatever it was would consume him utterly, perhaps even eat his soul.
It would not happen. He would not let it.
He slapped a hand on the shallow wall that ran around the roof, staring through his muddled sight as he dragged himself to his feet. Bram opened his mouth to speak, to unleash all the hells, but he was not quick enough.
Waylian uttered a word.
In that instant he understood it all. He tapped the Veil, feeling the planes of magick that hid in the shadow of the plane of men. It was terrifying and beautiful all at once, birth and death, elation and agony. And Waylian Grimm embraced it; let himself flow beyond and within it like he had been born to the task.
A voice from deep within issued forth, a command he could not comprehend, and Bram screamed, high-pitched and deafening, as his left eye exploded from his head in a shower of crimson gore. He clapped a clawed hand to his face and, still whining, he staggered to the edge of the rooftop, the backs of his knees catching on the wall behind him. Bram reached out, but with manacled hands he could not stop himself as he was tipped back off the roof of the chapel.
Waylian didn’t rush to see what had happened. There was no time left to check if Bram was dead. He half stumbled, half crawled to the centre of the rooftop where lay the sacrificial dagger. Grasping it in both hands, feeling the iron unnaturally cold to his touch, he closed his eyes, gritting his teeth …
The beast had a thousand eyes. With them he could see every street and alley in the city, could see the dead as they lay amidst the carnage, see the fleeing masses as they were hunted down and slain. The beast lay fat over the land, spreading its girth from the apex where Waylian stood. From the prison whence it had been released. Unleashed to hunt and kill as it had done so many aeons ago.
No more.
Waylian drew it in. Breathing deep and pulling back the beast.
It protested — it mewled and it whined and it clawed at the ground, desperate to remain free.
He could not allow that …
Waylian knelt atop the Chapel of Ghouls, gripping tight to that dagger, his lips moving silently as he recited ancient and forbidden litanies he would never remember in any waking moment, nor would ever want to.
Monsters that should never have been allowed to roam the lands of men were dragged back to their eternal prison.
And the city screamed.
FIFTY-ONE
The tunnels seemed like they’d collapse at any minute. And the howling. Rag almost felt the need to press her hands over her ears as she sprinted through the darkness but she couldn’t, she daren’t let go of Tidge’s hand for an instant in case she lost him in the black.
Despite the rumbling from above and the screaming that seemed to echo down every passage, she could still hear them coming after her. Shouting for her to stop, and telling her what a bitch and a little whore she was. Rag had never understood that — how blokes would always demand you stopped by shouting insults. Surely if they wanted her to stop they should try being fucking nice.
They ran out into a massive cavern, crates and caskets piled high along one side with all sorts of other dusty crap. There didn’t look like there was a tunnel leading out.
‘What the fuck do we do now?’ asked Tidge in his bravest shit scared voice.
‘I’m thinking,’ said Rag, glancing round the cavern just as there was a rumble that dislodged a load of dirt from the ceiling.
You need to think harder, girl, or you’re both gonna die down here.
There was the scrape of a boot on the floor behind her. Rag spun to see that Greencoat standing there in the entryway, knife in hand.
‘Enough bloody running. Now you both get cut,’ said the Greencoat, taking a step forward.
Rag shoved Tidge behind her, backing off further into the cavern, but she knew there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.
‘You don’t have to do this,’ she said, having run out of sensible stuff to say. ‘You could just let us go. City’s gone to shit anyway, what does it matter now?’
‘It matters to me,’ said the Greencoat, as a massive clod of earth hit the ground behind him. ‘And it matters to Bastian. You fucked things up for him and now you’re gonna pay for it.’
Rag backed up further, feeling Tidge tighten his grip on her hand. Behind the Greencoat another clump of earth fell down from the ceiling, splattering on the damp floor.
He’d walked out into the lantern light now and Rag could see a big old smile on his face. The blade of that knife glinted and she knew this wouldn’t be quick. Rag had known men like this all her life, men who took pleasure in other people’s pain. She’d known to avoid them at all costs, but it didn’t seem like she had that option now. Maybe if she gave herself up willingly it’d give Tidge enough time to escape …
There was another thud behind the Greencoat, but this time it weren’t no sod of earth that came from the ceiling. It was huge, limbs impossibly thin, head impossibly big. Rag opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out.
The Greencoat was almost on her, but the thing came on faster, moving across the cavern floor like a gigantic spider. Tidge made a noise, a strangled gasp in his throat, and the Greencoat’s smile widened — thinking it was him that was doing the scaring. By the time he realised his mistake it was too late.
The creature snapped its head forward, jaws closing on the Greencoat’s shoulder. He had time to open his eyes all wide-eyed and shocked before blood spurted out all over his face and jacket.
Rag weren’t about to hang around and see what happened next. She grabbed onto Tidge’s hand and ran like fuck, past where the feeding was going on and back down the tunnel. The Greencoat had the notion to scream as she ran off, but it was doubtful it would do him any good. There was a tearing sound just as Rag dragged Tidge out of that room and the screaming stopped.
Her heart was pounding now, her breath coming short and sharp as her feet clapped down the tunnel. To his credit Tidge didn’t make a fuss nor ask no questions — he ran right alongside her like his life depended on it. And there weren’t much fucking doubt his life did depend on it.
She was running blind now. Any chance she’d had of remembering which tunnel led where was gone. Best they could do was try and avoid the howling, especially since she’d just seen what was on the other end of it.
So desperate was she to escape that she didn’t give a shit what waited for them down the tunnels or in the little caves they came out in. Didn’t slow as she ran out into a bright-lit chamber. Didn’t see Bastian waiting for her or the big old blade in his hand.
Luckily her reactions were still quick enough, so she ducked in time before he could cut her head off.
Rag stumbled, falling to the floor, skinning her knees and her palms. Tidge tried his best to pull her to her feet as Bastian came at them.