Necrophobia (34 page)

“What of Mia and her team? Have they found anything since? I imagine they’d be pushing for results after the failure to stop the Brinestone breakout.” Hayley exchanged a dark look with Isobel.

“Inquisitor Pietas remains tight-lipped. She’s playing this one close to her chest so I’ve no idea what they’re planning but I’ve informed them nonetheless.” The bitterness in Isobel’s voice was clear as day. The retired Inquisitor clearly longed to stay in the loop regarding the Inquisition’s actions. Claire supposed the lower-key nature of the Night Guard paled in comparison with the Empire-spanning policing of the Inquisition.

After a pregnant pause Isobel waved them off with her free hand, the other clutching her walking cane white-knuckled. “Come on get yourselves ready. Time is of the essence.”

High above the city Sergeant Louise Blackburn shivered as another chilling wind washed over her. The watchtowers overlooked key parts of the Kriegsfeld were open to the elements. Overhead storm clouds circled and swirled over the city carried by the strong ocean winds. Caught between the Endless Ocean and a mountain range warm air from the south clashed with the colder winds of the seas and mountains. Kriegsfeld experienced near constant rain and frequent storms as a result. So much so in fact that every watchtower, spire and high-rising building featured at least one lightning rod to avoid damage. The city was an intricate web of storm drains and sewer systems to drain excess water from flash floods. The farmlands to the south contained a network of drainage ditches feeding into Tolulu river as a result. It was a city built to resist the weather as much as it was military and vampiric assault. As the sun set and the clouds overhead darkened visibility was poor. Hour after hour of watching over the city day in day out was an exercise in soul-numbing boredom. Louise often made note of the weather in a spare logbook for local scholars and meteorologists as a pseudo-hobby in exchange for small amounts of money and something to do. Generations of Night Guard amused themselves on watch with card games or extended bouts of ‘I spy’ just to keep themselves sane. The mounted search light hummed even over the sounds of the wind. The portable lanterns were next to useless. It was difficult to see anything at all other than a blur of motion below. The other officers present said little, electing to shield themselves from the wind and rain instead. In an hour or less their shift would be over and they could retreat to the spartan comforts or poorly insulated apartments. Let the night-shift worry about the weather she couldn’t be out of it soon enough. Louise wiped rain from the lenses of her binoculars and peered over the railing.

“You see something?” Constable Theodore Hancock asked. The tedium of day after day trapped on a small tower staring at nothing got to him after a while. She couldn’t blame him for that.

She sighed and handed him the binoculars. “Just another hour and a half of tedium.”

This wasn’t where she saw herself in life. Night Guard recruitment made it sound all fun and games upholding the law and tracking down bloodthirsty creatures of the night. Until you make a mistake and next thing you know you’re stuck on a Watchtower wishing you were dead.

“I don’t know. Sometimes you see things that make it worthwhile.” Even beneath the mask she could sense his grin. His binoculars focused on some of the apartment windows rather than the streets.

“We’re better than that.” She lied pulling the binoculars from his hands. A fresh sheet of rain swept across the balcony splashing across her journals. With a defeated sigh she scooped them up and held them close to her chest. “Keep an eye out whilst I dry these off.”

“Will do Sarge.” He replied resuming his vigil on the streets below.

Shielding herself from the rain she yanked open the door to the watchtower with her free hand. The hinges rusted with age and damp, though stubborn they yielded after enough attempts and slammed shut as she walked through. It was petty like that. The room itself was spartan and contained little in the way of amenities, a small table and some forlorn chairs scattered around the room. Before she could relish what little warmth lingered in the rest room a devastating impact struck the side of the tower behind her. She spun around, her journals flying out of her hands. The impact felt like a ballistae misfiring or a cannon assault. Outside she heard a muffled shout and a crossbow discharge before a large shadow fell across the narrow slit windows. Whatever it was it was larger than a creature had any right to be. A primordial mass of black scales from which green flame flickered and spiralled out of it. A dragon.

She shouted his name and tried to open the door to little avail. The gigantic wyrm landed with a crash on the balcony and wrapped itself around the tower. Trapped and with nowhere to run Theodore cried out for help and fumbled with his crossbow. Louise saw the dead eyes of the dragon wreathed in green flame glimmer with malice as it opened its mouth. Green and yellow flame gathered in the back of its cavernous maw as it inhaled.

“Get away!” It was useless. Terror paralysed him right up until the moment the creature’s head snapped forward and searing flame reduced him to ash in a single shrieking instant.

Hearing her scream the black dragon turned its head and stared at the stone walls keeping it at bay with interest. As terror overtook her she couldn’t help but notice the wounds and scars across its crocodilian head. Deep gashes and gouges covered it face, scales torn lose and dried blood caked its rough skin. It was with grim certainty she realised this might be the last thing she’d ever see and she turned and ran. She ran towards the stairwell kicking past a chair and stumbling forwards awkwardly. Behind her the wall exploded and a serrated tail burst through the dust and debris. The spearlike tail smashed apart the wooden desk with ease and slashed across her armoured back. Hardened scales tore deep into her ill-fitting uncomfortable twice-damned breastplate drawing blood. The impact alone sent her flying down the steps with bone-breaking force. She landed bad, the helmet taking the brunt of the impact as she slammed against the wall and rolled down the stairs. Pain flared all over her and she could feel blood dripping from her mouth and head. Above her she could hear the dragon’s tail smashing apart the tiny chamber splintering wood and reducing stonework to dust. Its spear-tipped tail felt the air around it to find her. Each jab tearing deeper into the crumbling tower as it struggled to find its prey. Despite feeling light-headed from blood loss she managed to keep moving down the steps. The dragon roared behind her. The sonic force of the roar shook the tower around her; a god’s fury condescended into sound.

What did I ever do to deserve this!

Brickwork and dust rained down upon her as the serrated tail drew closer. Pebbles bounced off her helmet and clouded her vision as she dragged herself with single-minded determination further down the tower. Desperately calling out for anyone around to help her. Anyone still upstairs was dead, there was no doubt about that.

Poor Theodore.

With tremendous effort she crawled on. Her hands numbing with pain and shock. She screamed as the tail spiked in front of her smashing the steps ahead driving deep into the stone before withdrawing. Rain poured into the tower, the entire roof had collapsed, almost crushing her. The dragon growled with interest and the tail disappeared. The entire tower shook again and as the dragon drew closer its massive claws scraping across the floor. She looked back and wished to any god that would listen that she hadn’t. Those green flaming eyes stared at her from above as the dragon’s head drew nearer. She met its gaze dread welling inside her as it exposed the yellowing putrid teeth and flames danced at the back of its throat. Soaked to the bone by rainwater and bleeding heavily she could feel the rancid heat of fire building within its mouth. She closed her eyes and waited. Seconds stretched by before she dared to open her bloodied eyes. The dragon’s head stared out of the shattered tower heeding some silent call, it’s prey forgotten. With a snort of flame it flexed its impossibly huge wings levelling the remains of the tower’s peak and threw itself upwards into the air. Great clouds of dust mingled with rainwater sloshed down upon the falling Night Guard sergeant and she swore in relief. Whatever attracted the attention of that beast saved her life and she didn’t envy whomever or whatever that was. Louise tried to free herself from the debris but her hands were weak and her vision fading fast. She lay on her back in the ruins of the watchtower with a strange sense of regret before everything went black.

Lord Strigoi’s mansion stood high above the city, with its thick walls and spartan architecture it resembled a castle or a fortress more than a place of residence. Barbed wire and ancient stakes lined the high walls and gates surrounding the premises. Like the headquarters of the Night Guard these stakes were conspicuously empty. Four watchtowers inside the mansion grounds loomed over the castle-mansion and their search lines combed the streets. Hayley was quick to explain the lesser known function of these towers — to project a dome of magical protection around the manor. Designed to repel against siege weaponry and magical assault. The barrier was invisible to the eye yet as she neared the limits she could sense a disturbance in the air and rainwater crackled against it. She pressed a hand against the edges of the shield expecting resistance but her hand passed right through. Feeling stupid she withdrew her hand but not before Hayley saw what she’d been doing.

“There’s a detection threshold.” She said as though that explained everything. “It’ll stop cannon fire, trebuchets that sort of thing. Doesn’t affect people.”

“Ah.” As if to prove a point a flock of birds flew overhead through the shield. Or where she presumed it extended anyway. The ability to sense magic in any real capacity took practice and study; study that she often regretted not doing more of. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“They don’t have a shield like this in Caelumons?”

“Not that I know of.” Claire offered an apologetic shrug. “It’s a quiet island.”

Rainfall poured down harder with each passing minute much to Claire’s vexation. Adrian’s prediction was right on the money and his knowing grin said it all. He leaned against the wall in the meagre protection offered by the parapets with his arms folded and his axe by his side.

At least my outfit is waterproof.
She smiled back, her expression hidden beneath the Night Guard mask.

“Never been.” Hayley shook her head. “Sounds pleasant.”

“How much do you like snow?” Adrian’s eyes stared at a couple hurrying home before curfew shielding themselves from the rain.

“It beats this.” She held out her open palm as if to catch the rain.

“I like the rain.” Adrian replied stepping out into the deluge and closing his eyes. “It’s our best defence against vampires. Besides yourself of course.”

“True enough.” Hayley nodded. “You know the vampire hunters and Night Guard of old used to protect themselves against bites by eating small doses of silver? They believed it would make their blood poisonous to vampires.”

“Did it work?” Claire asked.

The officer shrugged. “Turned your skin blue. I guess it did. Still not much good to you if your throat’s ripped out is it? Glad we don’t do that anymore.”

“It’s almost curfew soon.” Adrian remarked staring at the darkening sky. With his bushy hair and beard dripping with rain and clumping together he looked like a shaggy dog after a bath. She half expected him to shake himself off in the rain.

The streets surrounding the noble district were deserted except for the Night Guard patrols picking through the winding cobbled roads. In the distance Claire could see Reiner, Alvar and Sevaur deep in discussion yet just out of earshot. Cynthia remained too injured to assist in their search. It was a testament to the losses the Night Guard had suffered this past week that they drafted Claire into a patrol around the Strigoi mansion at all. Between the prison raid, the destruction of two ships and the losses incurred during the raids on the warehouse trained officers were in short supply. As the plague continued to ravage the poorer districts and spread further into the heart of the city the Night Guard were struggling on all fronts. Claire stretched and paced around the street, her muscles already stiff from the cold and poor posture from standing around. The waiting was almost unbearable. Isobel remained busy securing different parts of the city and Veronica’s hands were full dealing with internal strife within the mansion.