Shadow Eater, page 4
part #2 of Shadowlands Series
“Mummy?” Phillip’s voice trembled with uncertainty.
The stones continued to turn, the white becoming a terrific bright glow.
“What is this?” the woman asked. Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Mummy, the stones are white. Where is the red and blue? Mummy? Mummy?”
“I don’t know, darling.” Her voice was still low.
“It hurts my eyes.”
“I don’t know…”
Clay was baffled by what he was seeing, but he wasn’t unaware of the relinquished grip on his arm.
With the wide eyes of his captors focused on the bowl, he started backing away. He had no idea what the stones were doing, and he didn’t really care. The creature shook her head. “This isn’t right. There is only red and blue.”
“Mummy?”
“Only red—”
“Mummy?”
“Shut up, Phillip!”
Phillip cowered from her, his arms bending up over his chest in a passive act.
She looked up from the bowl. “I’m sorry my darling. Mummy is just very puzzled by the—”
Her black eyes locked onto Clay almost at the door. His heart almost leapt out of his chest and his brain screamed at his legs to move.
“You!”
He darted out into the hallway of dirty blue tiles and flickering lights.
Left or right? Left or bloody right! He was trying to get his bearings, get back to the roof.
“Get him, Phillip! We can’t let him get away! Call your brothers and sisters!”
Clay chose left.
He ran down the corridor, the closed doors rattling as he passed. With his shoulder he shoved the door at the end open and took to the stairwell.
Not looking back, he took the stairs two at a time. A figure appeared before him and he stopped, almost tripping over his feet. “Where do you think you’re going?” the horned man asked.
He was in a particularly bad state of rot, his skin dripping off bones.
“Get out of my way,” Clay said.
Footsteps behind him. “There you are,” Phillip said. “Nice one, William.”
Shit! “Let me go.”
“Let you go?” William said. “Why would we let you go? You’re ours now, our own special dinner.”
“No,” Phillip said. “We can’t eat him.”
William folded his arms and a flap of skin fell to the floor. “Poison?”
“Stones are white.”
“White?”
“Yep.”
“Interesting. What did mummy say?”
“Mummy is sad we can’t eat him, but said she will hurt him a hundred times more now that he tried to run.”
“White stones?” William said. His white eyes considered Clay. “But what if he is something else; not poison, but a cure.”
Phillip gasped. “Do you think?”
“It could be,” William said. “What would it hurt to try?”
“But how?”
“I need to talk to mummy.”
The crack of a whip.
“Come with me, then.”
Clay yelped as the whip took hold of him by the neck once more.
***
He didn’t want to ponder how much time he had left. He didn’t want to think on what fate they had in store for him. Time was slipping through his fingers and he needed to focus.
Phillip, the creature with the whip, had dragged him down four more flights of stairs into what looked like a boiler room. The place stank of death and it was no wonder why. The ground was littered with the remains of these monster’s victims. Fingers and toes mainly, and the odd ear.
Clay swallowed the bile that rose in his throat and tugged at his restraints. Phillip had handcuffed him to a bracket that held one of the pipes that ran along the stone wall. His right hand was now uselessly pressed to the cool pipe of a boiler that probably hadn’t worked in some time.
He scanned the dimly lit room. Two caged bulbs were set into the wall to his left—so they had some kind of generator then. There was some power. His brain began to whirr as an idea formed. A vent high up on the wall to the left, with an extractor fan that sat dead and useless... yes, his plan could work. But first he needed to get the hell out of these restraints.
He reached into his back pocket for his penknife and tucked it between his thighs, carefully flipping it open until he found the right tool—a spanner.
I hope it’s the right size…
He leaned across to test the size against the bolts that held the pipe to the wall. If he could undo them then he could slip the cuff off the bracket. Perspiration popped up on his brow as he carefully pushed the spanner against the bolt.
A perfect fit.
Thank the Mother.
Gritting his teeth, he began to loosen the bolt. Long seconds ticked by, filled only with the sound of his shallow breath and the beat of his heart, and then the bolt hit the ground with a tinny tinkle.
Time to get free. He wriggled the cuff off the bracket and got to his feet.
The vent was his next port of call. Problem was it was too high, even for him.
Shit!
No boxes, nothing he could stand on; what kind of boiler room was this? Phillip would be back soon. Clay’s time was almost up. His eyes snagged on the boiler, an ancient thing made of copper with a huge grated door that opened to be filled with fuel.
His lips curved in a smile. If he couldn’t get out of the room, then maybe he would trick them into thinking he had.
***
The door clicked open and Phillip’s horned shadow spread across the wall as he made his way down the steps, cracking his whip.
“Ready for judgement, human?”
Clay held his breath, watching through the gaps in the grate as Phillip came to a stunned standstill in the centre of the room.
“What the fucking fuck?”
Clay pressed his lips together.
Phillip moved toward the vent where Clay had deliberately dropped his cuff. He picked up the metal restraint and turned it over in his hand before looking up at the still bolted vent.
The fool was flummoxed, just as Clay had hoped he’d be. Philip shook his head and strode back toward the steps.
That’s it, just go. Go and leave the door unlocked.
Phillip placed one foot on the step and paused, his eyes snagging on the boiler. Clay pressed himself back into the shadows.
Please just go!
But his prayers weren’t to be answered as Phillip moved closer to the boiler.
Clay exhaled slowly.
Time for plan B.
He slammed open the grate, bursting from his hiding place and tackling Phillip at the waist.
They both went down and Clay wasted no time in grabbing his opponent’s head and slamming it against the concrete as hard as he could.
Phillip’s eyes rolled and he went completely limp.
Chest heaving, Clay pulled himself to his feet and ran for the exit.
He burst out onto the ground floor and faltered. Getting back to the roof was not an option, too much chance of getting caught, but if he made it outside then maybe he had a chance. His fire-breathing friend would hopefully see him and give him a lift.
Decision made, he hoisted his backpack higher on his shoulders and made a run for the exit ahead. The doors were wide open, an invitation to the unsuspecting passers-by no doubt. Bad for them, but good for him.
Almost there.
A horned shadow stepped in front of him. He tried to skid to a halt, but his momentum was too much. All he could do was raise his hands to defend his head as the baseball bat came swinging toward him.
***
His chest burned with impotent rage—rage at himself for getting caught. He’d been so close, so fucking close. He watched, powerless, as the scene that would decide his fate played out.
The glowing bowl was still in the woman’s lap. “Are you sure you wish to take this risk?”
“I believe this could be what we have been looking for,” William said. He crouched down, taking his mother’s fleshy hands in his mottled ones. “Mummy, look at me—look at what I am becoming. I am so much more far gone than any of the others. I’m almost wasted. There isn’t enough flesh coming in to the tower to sustain us. Soon all of your children will be as me.”
She started to weep. “My starving boy. My poor, starving boy.”
“This human could be special. His blood could be the key to our resurrection. And, mummy, how amazing we will be! We will rise up again and take Enchansa, let her rivers run with the blood of the vile folk who breathe her air. Then we will claim all of the Tri-realms, spread across the world like wildfire. We’ll show them all, mummy!” He stood up. “But first we must unbind ourselves from this predicament. I will be the sacrifice needed to see.”
“William…”
Phillip, alive despite the hit he’d taken to his head, was snuffling behind Clay, his hand clutching the whip, which was once again locked around Clay’s throat.
Who were these Shadowlanders? They were crazy! And there was that word again—Enchansa.
“It has to be me, mummy. I’m the next one to be lost. It doesn’t matter what happens to me.”
“Yes it would,” she said. “Yes it would! Oh, my heart. Don’t ever think you don’t matter, my darling.”
William smiled. “If this is to be the end of me here, then I will meet whatever awaits me bathed in your love. It is you that is everything, our life giver, and our life force.”
Clay wanted to be sick.
“Oh, darling.” She shuffled on the sofa, every part of her wobbling. “You are so very brave.”
“I’m so proud of you, brother,” Phillip said.
The mistake Phillip had made, and one that the other two hadn’t seemed to notice, was not binding Clay’s hands or feet. Maybe that bump to his head had dislodged his rotting brain.
“Thank you, brother,” William said.
None of them were looking at Clay, all caught up in their gushing words. Slowly, Clay reached into his right pocket for the penknife.
“I have never doubted our bond as a family,” the woman said. “My heart is bursting with love.”
He unfolded the blade.
“So we will do this, mummy?” William asked.
“Yes, we will do this.”
Clay closed his eyes and drove the knife into Phillip’s belly. The rotting man squealed and let go of the whip. With his free hand, Clay unwrapped the coiled leather from his neck while pushing the blade deeper into the Phillip’s soft abdomen.
“No!” the woman shrieked.
William turned and hissed, his white eyes blazing in his head.
Clay pulled the blade free and held it up, pointing it between them all. Phillip held his belly, falling to the floor in a foetal position, whimpering, and whispering for his mother.
“You vile creature!” the woman cried. “Yet again you come and hurt my own!”
“I-I-I’m okay, mummy.” Phillip was still curled up. “I just n-need to…rest.”
“Just let me go and this ends,” Clay said. He hated the audible tremor in his voice.
She laughed. “Let you go?” Her black eyes were full of murderous glee. “No one has ever come to the tower and seen the outside again. Let you go; how funny. You with your tiny blade and shaking hands.” She licked her lips with a slug-like tongue. “My children will never let you get free. They are everywhere. You’ve seen this place, the size of it, haven’t you? So many homes and rooms above your head. Foolish human. This is not a happy story with a happy ending for you. Nor are you the brave blond boy who gets to free himself from the shadow of despair. I don’t know what you are, but as my son said, you could be the cure to all of my children’s woes. Are you from Enchansa?”
“I’m no cure,” Clay said. “I don’t even know what Enchansa is.”
“But then you would say that, wouldn’t you?” She moved forward so she was sitting on the edge of the sofa. “Did you know the ghastly thing that came here and spread his poison?”
“I’m not who you think I am.”
“He was so tasty, my children tell me his flesh was sweet and salty—a perfect combination. I was ready for my share when the curse fell upon this tower, when my babies became walking corpses.” She scratched at the sofa with her talon nails. “I want to see their beautiful faces again, and maybe you will be the key to unlock it.”
“I’m not,” Clay said.
“So you keep saying.” She chuckled. “William, take the first bite.”
Clay swung the penknife at an advancing William, but was to slow. Phillip grabbed his ankle, allowing William to grab him and pin his hands painfully behind his back. For a dead thing, he was incredibly strong.
The knife fell to the floor with a useless thud.
“You smell good,” William said. He licked Clay’s neck and Clay tried use the back of his head as a weapon, but failed.
William chuckled and tightened his grip. “You’re not like the other food. You are special. I can taste it on your skin. I’m looking forward to eating your delicious flesh.”
No! No! No! No! No! He had to get away, had to get back to the creature. Why did he have to come to this cursed place? Why couldn’t they have just flown past? He should’ve known Ash wouldn’t have been here. He should have known! Now he’d failed and he was going to be eaten and it was gonna hurt!
“We will feast on the beast, should this thing make you better,” she said. “Go on, son. Bite down into him, let his blood pour down your throat.”
Hot breath tickled the skin on Clay’s neck. He closed his eyes. This was it... Oh, godmother, this was it!
No! It doesn’t have to be! Fight, dammit! Fight back!
His eyes snapped open and he thrust his head back and missed again.
Shit!
“Stay still.”
Fuck that! Clay slammed his foot down on William’s and spun free as William released him with a yelp of surprise. He brought his knee up to deliver a solid blow to the corpse’s groin. It worked like a charm, shattering pelvic bones and eliciting an eerie squeal that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention.
William collapsed to the carpet, legs akimbo. “My baby!”
Clay went to run, but something grabbed his ankle and pulled him down onto his back.
“Not so fast,” Phillip said, sitting cross-legged, and holding him tight. “I’m going to break your ankles.”
Clay kicked with his other leg, the impact snapping Phillip’s wrist. How did bones that held so tight break so easily?
Phillip shrieked and released his grip. Clay scrambled to his feet, throwing a quick glance at the floor for his knife. He couldn’t see it.
You can get me another as an apology present, Ash!
“Looking for this?”
He froze and looked over to the woman. She was standing on wide legs, penknife twirling between her fingers.
“Aw, what a sweet inscription,” she said.
Shit! This was becoming a cycle. Get away a bit, get caught, and then get away a bit. There was nowhere to run. She was right about that. He’d be caught in no time by more of the corpses.
As if reading his thoughts, she said, “Oh dear, what a shame. Failure seems to be your affliction.”
“Same for you,” Clay said. “I think they call this a stalemate.”
“No, I don’t think so. The odds are more in my favour. You’re just a particularly wriggly worm.” She took a step forward, glancing down at her sons whimpering over their injuries. They looked pretty pathetic, but Clay knew better than to underestimate them. They were dangerous—end of.
“When will you embrace your fate?”
“This isn’t my fate,” Clay said.
“But it is. I can’t understand why you deny it. You know you’re not getting away. So why fight? Isn’t fighting exhausting? Do you not want sweet release? I can give you that.” A sickly-sweet smile came to her plump lips. “I can forget everything, show you some mercy. I know I said I would make it hurt, but what if I didn’t? What if I let it be quick? Seeing as you’re a potential cure, you would be doing some good for my family. What else do you have in your life? Think of the gift you would be giving, the sacrifice you’d be making. We’re not bad folk, jade-eyed boy. We’re desperate. Have you never felt desperation?”
He had, of course he had.
“There is only so much running a person can do,” she continued. “Listen, there is such a thing as destiny. Well, I think there is. Think of this as your destiny. Greatness comes from sacrifice. What about that? Do you want greatness, to become more than a simple worm? I know you do. I can see it all over your handsome face. Your blood can bring happiness back to a broken family.” She held the penknife up. “Family is obviously important to you. If you do this, your sister would be so proud of you.”
Clay didn’t say anything as he watched the woman and her children, prepared for them to strike again. His skin prickled. The door was at his back. He had visions of another creeping behind him on light feet, getting closer as the thoughts swam around in his head.
“If you love the sister that left you these lovely words inscribed here, then you know the love I have for my own blood. And if you do love her, you would leave her with memories of greatness, rather than ones of you being just another victim.”
As a flower opens, so did Clay’s anger. “I love my sister and I’m gonna find her when I get out of here.” He was shaking. “What sort of idiot do you think I am?”
She chuckled. “Not a dumb little worm to be seduced by sweet words, then?”
“You’ve got too many sweet words to toss around,” Clay said.
“Well, be that as it may, you soon won’t have to hear them. Run, go on. Give my babies the thrill of the chase. Why not? It’ll get your blood pumping.” She licked her lips. “I cannot wait to see the light die in your eyes.” She swallowed the penknife as if it were nothing more than water. “There, now you can forget all about that.”
The window behind her back! There was a balcony, he remembered. He could use that. The big woman was slow and he could make it. He had no idea how high he was, but maybe he could get out and scream his lungs out for the creature to come pick him up.
