Running up the steps, I pulled my pistol from the holster. The front door had been broken in. The frame had a faint black charred outline around it. Magic. Stepping inside, I swept the gun back and forth, my gaze darting around, checking to see if anyone had been left behind to wait for me. Finger tight on the trigger, I moved through the place, checking everywhere. Nothing.
Letting the gun drop to my side, I took two deep, steadying breaths. Veronica was gone. Taken when I was supposed to be the one protecting her. Yet, instead of defeat, self-pity, or anguish, I felt something different welling up inside me. Anger and rage, yes, but more than that. Purpose. A drive to do what needed to be done. The desire to burn the world down to get her back. As if a light switch had clicked in my mind, I came to the realization that I cared for her even more than I’d let myself believe. Did I love her? I thought I might, and if not, I was only a step or two away, and I would do whatever I needed to get her back safely.
In that exact instant, the horrors of the school massacre and my failings faded to the background for the first time since it happened. I could no longer be the piteous man I had been before. Now, it was time for me to be the man I’d been before that. And that man was dangerous. That man was coming for VirgilfuckingTacitus.
After shoving my gun back into its holster, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I didn’t think I’d ever need to call again.
“Hello?” a squeaky voice said on the other end.
“Toby.”
A long pause, then, “Dec?”
“It’s me,” I growled. “I need some stuff. You down to help an old friend?”
“Holy shit. Yeah. Sure. What do you need?”
“I’ll come to you. Be there in around thirty minutes. Be ready.”
I hung up before he could respond and stalked out of the house, not even bothering to shut the door behind me.
The Shadow Streets were larger than many people realized. Even among the magic users, mystical beings, and deities that walked the thin line between the human world and the paranormal world, there were still areas most didn’t know about. One such area was where men like me went for assistance, supplies, and gear.
Walking down a dark and nearly hidden alley, I passed a few ominous shadows writhing in the darkness. I spared no glance in their direction, my eyes set straight forward toward my destination, but of course, as with most things in life, shit couldn’t be easy.
“Hey there,” a wispy gurgle said. “Got anything you can spare?”
“No,” I said, continuing on.
“Well, maybe we just take what you got if you ain’t gonna be kind,” a second voice said.
That brought me up short, my vision going red with rage. Spinning around, I found the source of the threat. Two ghouls emerged from the shadows. Once they’d been vampires, but had been cursed into these unholy, zombified visages. Usually, it came from feasting on the blood of too many innocents. Unlike in fiction, real vampires requiredwillingparticipants in their blood feasting. In a pinch, they could bite and take blood from those who didn’t consent, but if you did it continually, the body turned intothis.Emaciated forms with protruding fangs, skin hanging from their bones, and long, dirty nails like talons. They looked more like gruesome animals than the vampire men they’d been before.
“Got anything hot, red, and tasty for us?” the one on the left said.
The other chuckled along, his fangs glinting in the bare light coming from the busy street beyond.
“Walk away,” I said, glaring at them.
“We will,” the one on the right said, and took a threatening step forward. “When we got what we need. Watch your mouth, or we won’t leave enough foryouto walk away.”
That was all I needed to hear. Time was ticking. Veronica needed me, and these two weren’t worthy of more time. Their very presence told me they’d probably killed dozens of innocent people.
I pulled my pistol out and fired twice. The enchanted bullets slammed into first one, then the other, taking them each in the chest. The two ghouls crumpled to the ground as shouts of panic rang out in the street. Not sparing a glance at the writhing and screaming forms, I continued on my way, cursing the delay.
Toby’s Toy Chest was at the end of the darkest and longest alley in all of The Shadow Streets. I shoved the door open, and a small bell above tinkled. No sooner had I entered than a scrawny, almost skeletal man emerged from the back. Wild, unkempt hair stuck out at all angles of his head. His bright red beard was almost as long and wild, but was streaked with gray. He wore a threadbare Ozzy Osbourne T-shirt that had once been black, but was now dark gray from hundreds of washings.
“Hey, Dec.” He looked past me. “Uhm, did you hear gunshots a second ago?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I snapped as I stomped toward the counter. “I need to find someone, and I don’t have time to do it the typical way. You got a divining or wayfinding item I can buy?”
Toby’s eyes went wide. “Are you…are you back on the job?”
I leaned over the counter and yanked him closer by the neck of his T-shirt, pressing my face so close, my nose was almost touching his.
“Toby, what part ofI don’t have timedidn’t youfuckingunderstand?”
“Sorry!” he squalled. “Be careful, bro. This is a vintage shirt.”
