With Silent Screams (The Hellequin Chronicles, Book 3) Read online

  “Nate, what did he call you for?”

  “He said people were dying and he needed my help. He told me to be here at six and he’d explain everything. That was four hours ago, which is pretty much exactly how long it took to get you and drive here. The call was cut off when he was about to tell me something else, though.”

  “Any idea what?”

  “Don’t know. The phone just went dead. There are storms in the area, so I assumed it was a problem with the phone itself. When I couldn’t call it back, I rang you.”

  “I’m going to talk to my father. I’ll see if I can get him to take the case over. I know this is human on human, and not even Avalon touches those, but I figure we can make an exception. We’ll find out who did this.”

  “I know,” I said. “And then I’m going to kill them.”

  Sky placed a hand on my shoulder and I placed my hand on top and squeezed slightly. There was a time when we had almost been more than friends, but time and personalities had ensured that it never happened.

  Sky removed her phone from her pocket as I noticed a business card that had fallen onto the carpet beside where Bill would have laid on the bed.

  I picked up the black card and found that it belonged to a hotel in Manhattan, the Scepter Hotel. A bloody mark stained both sides of one corner. At one point, I would have used my Blood magic to try and get some insight into who the blood belonged to. But those days were gone. Since my necromancy had reared its head nearly a year ago, my Blood magic had vanished. Hades had told me that necromancy and Blood magic can’t coexist, but it was a huge thing to lose, and something I still had trouble getting used to.

  “You ever heard of this?” I asked Sky, passing the card to her as she told someone on the other end of the phone to wait a moment.

  “It’s a fancy five-star place. You think this blood is Bill’s?”

  “Maybe. It’s worth looking into.”

  “I’ll bag it up,” she said and took it from me as she started talking on her phone again.

  I walked over to a nearby door and pushed it open, revealing a clean en suite bathroom. Directly in front of the door was a mirror above a white sink. Someone had written “welcome back” on the glass in blood. I noticed the small camera, positioned on top of the mirror. And then my world exploded.

  No amount of magic at my disposal could have stopped the destructive power of the explosion as it rushed toward me. A hastily assembled shield of dense air robbed it of its potency and left me alive, but the shockwave still picked me off the ground as if I were made of paper, flinging me back through the nearest window with a crash.

  I slammed into the solid earth with a crunch, tumbling backward until a large tree stopped any further movement with a definitive thud.

  I lay there, covered in blood, dirt, and brick dust as my brain tried to catch up with what had happened.

  The first port of call was pain. It washed over me, hunkering down in every conceivable place on my body. My ribs felt as if on fire, turning even the simple act of breathing into a battle. My left arm was numb, and my back felt wet, but I couldn’t move enough to find out what had happened. I coughed and the pain roared through my body until I spat bright blood onto the grass beside me. Probably a punctured lung.

  All in all, I was lucky. I might not have felt it, but if I’d been human I would have most certainly died.

  My magic had started to heal me—my ringing ears faded back to normal within a few seconds, so I just sat still as the thoughts of Sky and the officers in the house filled my head. Were they okay? Did I take the brunt of the blast? The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Unfortunately, I couldn’t move.

  A short while later, a young woman walked out of the woods beside me toward the ruins of the house. She glanced around briefly as flames leapt from the giant hole where the bedroom and bathroom used to be, then turned toward me. Her high heels and knee-length dress were an odd sight, but the smile on her face suggested she was not here to help.

  She ran her hand through her shoulder-length brown hair and stood a few feet in front of me, the smile never wavering from her beautiful face. I’d never seen her before—there wasn’t even a glimmer of recognition on my part—but from the callous grin on her face, I got the impression that she certainly knew me.

  She took a few steps toward me and breathed deeply before placing one of her heels against my shoulder and pushing down. The strength of the woman was incredible as the heel tore into my shoulder, causing me to yell in pain as she turned her foot left and right.

  “I’d love to make you my new pet,” she said and removed her foot, her heel dripping blood onto my arm. “My last one didn’t make it.”

  “You triggered the explosion,” I said. A cold rage began to fill me, but I couldn’t have fought her on rage alone—I’d have been killed. Instead, I was forced to sit still, watch, and listen, which did little to improve my mood.

  The woman made a contented sound, like a purr. “Of course. I wasn’t meant to come say hello, but I just couldn’t stay away. I wanted to see how you’d handle this…warning.” She raised her head and listened as the sounds of voices coming closer.

  She sighed and bent down in front of me. “Such a shame we have to cut our relationship short. I’d kill you, but I don’t want you to leave the fun just yet. See you soon, Mister Garrett.” She pressed one finger into the hole she’d made with her heel a moment ago. I yelled out once more until she withdrew the finger and licked it clean. “You taste good. Maybe when we meet again, I’ll be able to get my fill of you.” She kicked me in the head so hard, it would have moved a car. I blacked out.

  CHAPTER 2

  “How long was I out?” I asked as I found myself in the back of an ambulance with Sky next to me. Her brown eyes held a look of concern, along with anger at what had happened. She drummed her fingers of one hand against the metal railing beside her, a nervous habit, while running the other through her long dark hair.

  “An hour, give or take. Your wounds finished healing a few minutes ago.”

  I pushed myself upright; I felt sore and achy, but I’d live. More than that, I was really angry. “They didn’t use silver in the bomb.”

  “You were lucky.”

  “No, they wanted me to live. They wrote ‘welcome back’ on the bathroom mirror. I was standing there for a good two or three seconds. They let me read that message and notice the camera before detonating the bomb.”

  “Any idea who they are?”

  I shook my head. It hurt. “I’m gonna find out though.” I swung my legs off the bed and the blanket covering me moved. I was naked except for my boxers. “Did you take my clothes off?”

  “Nope, the human paramedics got to you first and started cutting your clothes off. They were a little surprised when your wounds started to heal in front of them.”

  “Yeah, that takes some explaining at the best of times.”

  “Fortunately, my people arrived. One of them had an ambulance, so we thought it best to get you out of there before the cops started asking questions.”

  “I need to go back and look around.”

  “You need to rest for a bit. Your magic still has some work to do.”

  As a sorcerer, my ability to heal injuries is far in excess of anything a human can hope to achieve. Magic will mend broken bones in a matter of hours, and near-death injuries in days. It all depends on how powerful the sorcerer, but our ability to survive is still quite impressive. A few years previously, my magical ability had increased, and that meant injuries which used to take hours to mend now took minutes. Along with the vast increase in power available to me, it was something I was still getting used to.

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  “How about those marks? Any more of them gone?”

  For my entire life, I’ve had six black marks on my torso. Each one about the size of a fist, and e
ach of them constantly change, making the discovery of their purpose impossible. It didn’t help that they only show up when I use magic, and that only people who also have a Blood magic curse can see them. For over a millennia they sat there, doing nothing, and then someone sacrificed themselves to save my life and they started to vanish. The first one that went increased my magical power, and the second gave me the ability to use necromancy alongside my wind and fire magic. The final four remained in place, but I’d started to see the beginnings of the third mark starting to fade.

  “Nothing yet. How are you doing? You were in the room when the bomb went off.”

  “I was just outside it, but the blast was directed away from where I was. Apart from some ringing ears, I’m fine. A few cops were in the room behind you when it went off. They were rushed to hospital with some slight injuries and a few cases of shock. But there was nothing too serious.”

  That was a relief. Although I doubted the bomb makers cared one way or the other who was going to get hurt, it was good to know the casualties were minimal. I turned to look out of the window behind me. “Where are we going?”

  “My father’s hospital. I arranged for the bodies of your friend and his wife to be sent there. My father wants to talk to you too.”

  I laid back on the gurney. “Yeah, I sort of expected he’d want to discuss how his daughter was in the vicinity of a bomb blast.”

  “He was worried, not mad.”

  “That’ll change once he sees that I’m okay.”

  “He’s not going to blame you, Nate.”

  Somehow, that didn’t make me feel better about it, but I didn’t have time to voice my concerns as the ambulance stopped and Sky opened the double doors.

  “You coming?” she asked.

  “I’m naked.”

  A sly smile crossed Sky’s lips. “Oh, is it the cold? No one will say anything, it happens to every man.”

  “You are a witty woman to mock the naked man who was just blown up. Do you go kick orphans at Christmas too?”

  Sky laughed. “Hey, Tiny Tim was asking for it. Wait there, I’ll go get you some clothes.”

  “It’s not like I can go anywhere else,” I shouted after her, which earned me a glance at her middle finger as she walked into the hospital.

  While I sat in the back of the ambulance, earning glances from people who entered and exited the hospital, my thoughts drifted back to just before the explosion. The words welcome back were meant to mean something to me, I was sure of that; otherwise, why wait until I’d read it and seen the camera before detonating?

  Sorcerers are blessed, or cursed, depending on your view, with fantastic memory recall. I can tell someone exactly what I was doing on the 17th November 1078—sleeping with the sister of a chieftain’s wife. But I can’t remember details like faces or names very easily—she’d had long red hair, green eyes, and her name began with an R…maybe. Unfortunately, messages written in blood weren’t exactly new to me; so who might have written it, and why, would have to remain mysteries until something else jogged a memory loose. But for some reason the message on the mirror bothered me a lot more than being blown up.

  I tried to get my brain to figure out a connection until Hades arrived at the front of the ambulance and threw me some clothes.

  I quickly pulled on the blue t-shirt and dark jeans, but was happier to put on some clean shoes and socks. When finally dressed, Hades passed me a cup of hot tea.

  “You’re a good man,” I told him as I inhaled the green tea and savored a quick sip.

  “Could you tell that to the people who wrote those fairy tales about me, I could use some good PR.”

  The myth of Hades kidnapping Persephone and forcing her to marry him was just that, a myth. One perpetrated by Persephone’s mother, Demeter, as she was embarrassed that her only daughter married a necromancer. In fact, Hades and Persephone probably have the strongest relationship I’ve ever known two people to have. And they’re two of the people I’m proudest to call my friends.

  “So, you got blown up,” Hades said as I stepped out of the ambulance and pulled on the black hoodie he’d given me.

  “Yeah, not my finest hour.”

  “Sky’s okay.” Hades’ comment was said very matter-of-factly, but there was a barely concealed anger in his tone. No one with half a brain would want a pissed-off Hades running after them. And hurting one of his children, adopted or otherwise, was a very quick way of ensuring your life expectancy was about to reach zero.

  “I’ll find who did this.”

  “I know.” Hades passed me a card, which turned out to be the one I’d found in Bill’s bedroom. “Sky seemed to think this was a clue to their whereabouts.”

  “It was in a blood-soaked bedroom, right next to where they tortured Bill. I’d say it was planted there. Someone wants me to follow them.”

  “I assume you want to go back to the house first and look around.”

  “I’m hoping they left something for me to work with. Did any of your men find any trace of the woman I met?”

  “She was long gone by the time they got to you. Werewolves have been sent to see if they can pick anything up. By the time you get back there, we should know more.”

  We walked into the hospital, and the people we passed said hello to Hades, who returned the greeting without pause. I was certain that if asked, he would have known the names of every single person he met. It was that kind of attention to those who worked for him that gained him devotion amongst his work force.

  The hospital itself was large enough to house a few hundred patients and staff, but not so large that you’d get lost wandering it’s identical corridors. Like all hospitals, signs pointed the right way. But unlike most hospitals, protection runes were etched onto every single door and window we walked passed. If I knew Hades, they’d be marked on the very brick and concrete that made the building. I didn’t know what they did, but I was very sure I didn’t want to find out firsthand.

  We entered the lift and Hades selected the second underground floor. I knew from experience that it contained the morgue and I felt a twinge of anger inside me at the thought of Bill and his wife lying cold and motionless while their killers roamed free.

  Once out of the lift, we rounded a corner at the end of a long corridor and found Sky in a reception area, sitting on a chair next to a Coke machine.

  “There’s a reaper in with the bodies,” she said as I sat opposite her and Hades continued to walk passed us and through a nearby door.

  I placed the heel of my palms against my forehead and shut my eyes. If I could get tension headaches, I’d have had a huge one. “Reapers?”

  “Standard protocol in situations like this, you know that. We may learn something.”

  As much as I try to keep an open mind about all the species that inhabit the world, reapers are one of the few that I absolutely hate spending time around. It’s not that they’re inherently evil or anything quite so dramatic; it’s just that they’re so damn creepy. Talking to them feels like something is inside your brain trying to get out. After they’ve gone, you’re still left with an itch in your psyche that can take hours to leave. It’s sort of like when you wake up from a horrific nightmare and for a brief moment you’re unsure if it’s real or not.

  The door that Hades had gone through opened and a tall man walked through. He wore a well-tailored dark-blue suit and a black fedora. Reapers aren’t overly skinny, even though they can’t eat or drink in the normal sense of the word. They sustain their energy by siphoning off the emotions from the spirits they talk to. Which is probably a big reason why I find them creepy. Contrary to myth, reapers do not help spirits cross the underworld or even kill people themselves. They’re a type of necromancer. One that can communicate with the recently deceased. When a person dies, their spirit, or soul, or whatever you wish to call it, is still connected to their body for seven days.
The Spirit itself can't move far from the body it was recently inhabiting, no matter where that body might be taken. So wherever the body is, reapers can find their spirit and talk to them.

  “So, how’d it go?” I asked the man.

  “Not well,” he said, his voice was barely a whisper, but for some reason his words hung around in your head after he’d said them. “I managed to connect with the woman easily enough. She told me that she let in four people, three men and a woman. Once in the house, they attacked her and her husband, dragging him off upstairs. Two men took her into the room she was found in and started searching it for information. Her memory is jumbled about the details, as she has no idea what they were talking about. When she pulled a gun on them, they killed her. Like all spirits, she doesn’t remember her death, and won’t until she’s no longer linked to her body, but I put two-and-two together.”

  “And the man?” I asked.

  “His death was prolonged and unnecessarily cruel. He was tortured very horribly. Any thoughts I have from him are fractured. Mostly just thoughts of his wife, of being unable to save her. Of knowing that he was going to die. Whatever was done to him broke his mind before he died.” There was no emotion in the reapers voice. Everything was said in an even tone. I wasn’t even sure they had emotions. Like I said, creepy.

  “Thanks for trying,” Sky said.

  “I never said there was nothing,” the reaper said, with what was almost irritation. “There were a few things he thought over and over again.” He pointed at me. “Your name was repeated a lot. As was a hotel in New York.”

  “The Scepter?” I asked.

  “Yes, that’s the one. And lastly there’s laughter.”

  “Are you sure?” Sky said. “What he went through wasn’t funny.”

  “He wasn’t laughing. He’s remembering the laughter. The person who tortured him was laughing while she did it. And yes, it was a she. There was a flash of an image of her. A youngish woman, most would consider her attractive. I don’t really have a frame of reference for how attractive, however. She had shoulder-length brown hair. There’s one sentence that his memory didn’t fracture. We’d have never found you if you hadn’t started checking again. She said it several times during his ordeal.”