Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Any light will reveal in a being’s shadow whether it is human, vestige, or some other state of being. Living flame, however, which is to say real fire, reveals emotion, health, and even wounds of the soul.
—Catalyst Folio
I raced around the corner onto Manette Street, my head and chest pounding, the adrenaline or whatever it was I had brought back from the field of stones still surging hot inside me.
I sprinted for the Iron Horse door, braced myself, hit it full speed, and tumbled onto the floor. Then I scrambled around, shoved the door shut, and threw the bolt from my knees. When I turned to face the pub, Church, Lady, and Chuey were gaping at me slack-jawed.
Chuey stood. “Jack?”
“Henry!” I shouted. “Is he here? Is he okay?”
I jumped up and rushed past the curtain into the venue side. Empty. He could be in the rear office. I ducked back into the pub. My friends were all on their feet now, still staring my way.
“Easy, my boy,” said Church around his cigar. “We thought Henry was with you.”
“Something happened,” I said. “Right outside Henry’s flat. I think he was shot. Then I think maybe I got shot. Whatever happened, I blacked out.
And when I woke, I ran into a guy dressed like a Roman centurion.” I stopped at the absurdity of what I was saying. My blood still seemed to be on fire, and the whole night kept jumbling in my head.
Lady tucked her needle into her hair bun. “Slow down, Jack.”
“I helped him. This crazy guy in the centurion getup said I’d bound him.” I looked up at Lady. “Like his soul to his body or something. I thought I saw . . .”
“Jack, man,” Chuey said, starting toward me, “were you really shot?”
I felt my chest—hole in my shirt but no wound. “I’m okay. But something came after me. Like a Rottweiler, but bigger and all torn up.”
Church and Lady shared a look.
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Why are you guys looking at each other?
What do you know?”
Church raised his hands. “Try to calm yourself, Jack.” “Seriously? I was just almost killed. Or maybe I was killed!”
“Ese?” Chuey only called me that when he was angry or scared or trying to sympathize. “There’s blood on your shirt.”
Lady came over and put a hand on my arm. “You’re safe now. So slow down and tell us about Henry.”
I clasped my hands to stop them from shaking. “When I came to, he was gone. I searched his flat, but he wasn’t there . . . I found blood in the alley where he fell.”
“And this creature you saw,” said Church, pulling his phone from his jacket pocket, “where is it now?”
I shook my head. “The centurion slowed it down but it still came after me. Almost got me, too, but it hit something—like an invisible wall. I felt it, too, but got through somehow. Church, what if Henry’s out there with that thing right now?”
Church jabbed a finger at his cell. “Pray God he answers.”
Even without the phone on speaker we could hear it ring. Eight times, then it went to voicemail. Church hung up.
He reached back into the booth for his leather satchel, pulled a fistful of papers out, and riffled them like a deck of cards before shoving them back in and slinging the satchel over his shoulder like a bandolier.
I’d never seen a bag filled with documents look so menacing, so weapon-like.
Lady dashed behind the bar and pulled out two cots, which she quickly unfolded and set against the far wall of the pub.
Like Church, she slung her bag over her head, then pulled out a police-style baton and snapped it open with a flick of her wrist.
Church picked up his cane and pulled the hook handle from the length, revealing a long, shining doubled-edged blade. “Let’s go,” he said. “Henry may need our help.”
Chuey rushed into the kitchen, returned with a butcher’s cleaver and a chef ’s knife, and handed me the knife. Church and Lady started moving toward the door.
“Church!” I screamed. “Tell me what’s going on!”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Jack. There’ll be time for that later. But right now, please, take us where you last saw Henry.”
Right, Henry. I hurried to the door, and we stepped out into the quiet dark of Manette Street.
“If we encounter this creature that chased Jack,” whispered Church, “guard yourselves against sudden feelings of anger and despair.”
“How do you propose we do that?” Chuey asked. “Go to our Zen place?” “Close,” Lady said. “Happy memories.”
Chuey cocked his head to the side. “You do remember where we’re from, right?”
“Easy, Chuey.” I recalled the feeling when the beast had attacked Cassius and me. “What is this thing, Church?”
“I can’t be sure,” he said, “but proximity to some Strata entities can influence the mind.”
“The centurion mentioned the Strata, too.” I flipped my knife around. “Once we find Henry, I’m going to need some answers.”
I then led them back across Charing Cross Road and onto Flitcroft Street.
We passed my place and headed toward the T-section at Stacey, where I’d last seen the beast .
. . and Cassius. Ten feet from the alley’s end, we bumped into that strange barrier, but there was no sign of either the creature or the centurion.
Church and Lady each extended a hand and probed the barrier like mimes.
Church removed his stogie and put it in the inner pocket of his tweed jacket. “It’s receded, but feels as durable as ever.”
“Agreed,” said Lady.
I reached out and touched it. “What are we talking about?”
“The Iron Horse ward,” said Church. “It’s a barrier that extends several city streets in every direction around the Horse, affording protection to those on the inside.”
“Without it,” Lady added, “there are thanatists who would bring violence here, or worse. But so long as it lasts, it will keep us safe.”
Chuey reached out, too, waving his hand around in the air. “Nothing there, man. What the hell you guys talking about?”
Wards and necromancers. I didn’t want to believe it, but the details were piling up. I turned to Lady and Church. “If this is all real, how could you not tell us? We’ve been hanging with you both for five years.”
“Later, Jack,” Church said again.
I shook my head and started to push through the barrier, when Lady laid a hand on my arm and nodded toward Stacey Street. Maybe thirty feet from us, a man and woman walked into the light of the streetlamp and stood talking, motioning toward Henry’s flat.
The woman was middle-aged, and wore a black corset under an open jacket with short sleeves that flared in white lace past the elbows.
A tricornered hat sat tilted rakishly on her head.
And in one hand she held a lantern, in the other what looked like a violin bow.
To her left stood a tall, thin older man wearing a flowing chocolate coat over a white shirt with flared cuffs.
He sported a high, bushy mane of red hair and also carried a lantern and bow.
To her right, a giant of a man sauntered up in nothing but a loincloth, holding a huge spear.
Chuey whispered, “Anybody else getting a bad Renaissance faire vibe?” Behind the man and woman, at the edge of the light, a young woman in black, form-fitting clothes—like an athlete might wear—stood half-turned toward Henry’s place, surveying the alley on the other side of Stacey.
She had two swords strapped to her back. And past her, two figures walked the alley bent over, as though searching the ground.
“Maybe they’re looking for Henry,” I whispered.
“Maybe they can help us.” Before anyone could answer, loud voices rolled up from farther down Stacey Street.
I stepped to the edge of the ward and peered right.
Two swordsmen and a woman with a staff were hauling Cassius from behind the dumpsters.
His neck and plate were a mess of blood, but he was moving, dragging his sword in one hand.
“Over here,” the taller of the swordsmen shouted. He was wearing knee-high leather boots and a long cloak.
The man with the wild red hair, the woman with the tricornered hat, the spearman, and the searchers from the alley all started toward Cassius. Lady whispered in my ear, “I assume this is the centurion you bound.”
They will kill me for this, Cassius had said.
“He saved me from whatever that beast was,” I whispered back. “We have to help him.”
“Jack”—Lady pulled me around—“you’ve gone through a great change tonight, and there’s much to explain, but trust me, helping this centurion would risk the kind of exposure you should be trying to avoid—making enemies you don’t want to have.”
“More than that,” said Church, “he’s beyond the ward, and we don’t have the numbers to fight this crew.”
I certainly knew the value of keeping a low profile in proximity to attempted murder, as well as the prudence of not making new enemies.
And if this was all connected to that dark plain and the creature that had chased me, I’d be a fool to draw attention to myself.
But you don’t let someone who helped you escape a near-fatal attack go down without trying to help. Basic street etiquette.
And I had a plan.
“Nah, man, a fight would be crazy at these odds.” I scanned the ground and picked up a rock. “I’ll lob this up the alley behind them. When they turn toward it, go. Push the three who have Cassius out of the way. I’ll help him back here inside the ward before anyone gets hurt.”
“We better hurry,” Chuey said, pointing his meat cleaver. “Or I’m afraid your buddy’s going to get a beatdown.”
Church and Lady nodded. So, I heaved the rock. It sailed into the dark and clattered down near Henry’s flat. The costumed crew spun and rushed toward the sound, raising swords and bows and lanterns.
We dashed through the barrier, the air sweeping in cold around us. We were nearly to Cassius when someone in the shadows beyond the streetlamp shouted, “Stop them!”
I looked up the street. The man with the bushy red mane was hurrying back our way. “Stop them!” he cried again.
The three people dragging Cassius spun to face us.
Lady kicked the woman with the staff. Church and Chuey shoved the swordsmen, who spun away, trying to keep their feet. I ducked in and pulled Cassius’s free arm around my neck and hauled him to his feet. Guy weighed a ton.
“Go!” I shouted.
We rushed back toward Flitcroft, Cassius mostly dragging his feet as his would-be captors gave chase. I glanced back and saw the young woman swinging her staff. Light from the streetlamps glinted off the swords of the two men. My friends trailed me, their weapons up.
Just before we reached the alley, a brassy tone rang out with a flash of light. The woman with the tricornered hat was pulling her bow across her lantern. The two searchers—one with a long hammer, the other with a net—and the giant spearman surged after us, joining the chase.
I pushed ahead, but Cassius was so heavy.
Steel clashed behind me—my friends defending my back.
I was only a couple of yards from the barrier but gassing out.
As I was about to collapse, Cassius got his feet under him, taking his weight off me.
He put a massive arm around my back, pulled me forward, and we shot through the ward barrier.
That thin force, like reversed magnets, and the sudden warmth felt awfully damned good this time.
Church, Lady, and Chuey rushed through behind us, and we all whirled around, ready to meet our pursuers.
The alley quickly filled with the swordsmen, the staff woman, the searchers, and the giant spearman.
I could see the glow of threaded bindings at their wrists, and tattoos in the shape of an inverted Y at their necks just beneath their left ears.
On the asphalt beside them, their shadows lay pale and soft—like Cassius’s.
They congregated a step beyond the barrier and stared at us.
I still thought they would charge us—I’d only seen the barrier work on the beast—but instead they parted, giving way to the hat-wearing woman and the man with bushy red hair.
These two stood there, still holding their lanterns and violin bows.
The woman pressed a hand on the barrier, then she nodded to the man and they both stepped through.