“We both know there’s no pack dynamic, no connections. It’s why Conor panicked, thinking you could fix it.” Bishop straightened, and Sam stiffened as a darkened figure emerged from behind him. The hound sniffed at the air, growling low as it moved forward into the room.
The hound was more horrifying than he remembered, the harsh artificial lighting above showing every angle and strange feature. It was smaller than the one he’d faced in the alley, with a gaping hole at the end of its snout, the bottom jaw missing to leave a row of sharp teeth and a floppy tongue. Vapour wafted out, curling to drift around its side where it danced between the exposed ribs, a flash of white against blackened fur. The hound flickered, disappearing into the shadows before re-appearing closer.
The lights above sputtered, seeming to whine before going out one by one, allowing the hound to pass between the spots of darkness. Each step Sam felt his lungs tighten until hot breath brushed against his arm. He knew the hound was there, yet his eyes saw nothing but empty space.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Bishop said, watching intently as he remained in the single remaining stream of light. “But they’re nothing but feral animals, barely able to follow basic instructions.”
Sam let out a hiss as he felt a tongue lick against his skin, lapping at the blood only to leave a dull burn. Carrion and death, that’s what its breath smelt like, so heavy it was suffocating.
“They were gifted to us,” Bishop said with a shrug. “Creatures spliced together by Hadriel back when he had the power. He’s a god in his realm, but now the fallen angel is stuck down in Hell, while we’re up here no longer imprisoned.”
Sam kept his voice placid. “I don’t know who Hadriel is.”
“Sure you do,” Bishop chuckled. “The fallen angel who cursed the Guardians? The same one who created the fucking Nether, also known as Hell where my kind have been kept chained for millennia. Ring any bells?”
Sam swallowed his panic. “I haven’t heard of any Guardians.” He slowly lifted his arm, blood dripping down to his elbow before a phantom tongue struck that too. “How will I help the pack if you let him eat me?” he asked, trying to change the subject.
Fuck. What had Axel and his brothers got to do with this?
“We’ve been through this, they’re not a pack.” Bishop let out a low whistle, and the tongue stopped, but the hound never reappeared. “And we both know you’re aware of the fucking pricks who have been a thorn in my Breed’s side for years. You work for their leader, after all.”
“Leader?” Sam frowned, hoping his face mirrored disbelief. “Look, I’m just a bartender.”
Bishop took a step forward. “If that were true, I would have killed you already. So you’re really going to want to be more than just the bartender.” Reaching into his back pocket he pulled out a single metal canister, rolling it between his fingers.
Sam stared at the drug, jaw taut.
“Don’t worry,” Bishop said with an amused smile. “You’re going to enjoy this.”
Chapter28
Axel
“You could have said we were going to the market,” Axel said as he walked past the obscured, unkept graves. “Do you even have a token?”
Lennon shot him a frown over his shoulder, lips opening to reveal his blackened chunk of tongue.
“Yeah, yeah,” Axel grunted. “Speaking isn’t the only way to communicate, you know.”
Lennon snapped his mouth closed, bouncing from one foot to the other. His eyes ping-ponged around the surrounding tombs, never settling on a single object for too long. With a meaty finger he pointed to a large headstone with three concentric circles, but Axel shook his head.
The Troll Market was an underground bazaar frequented by the meaner dredges of the Undercity, a place to buy anything from illegal charms, specialised weapons, organs to trafficking of all kinds. Humans, Fae, shifters, whatever you wanted you could buy with the right amount of money. Only those with tokens had access, and the tokens themselves were difficult to come by. There was a certain amount available at one time, and the only exceptions were those that held stalls, or if you offered up certain services to the two Fae Lords who ran the market.
Axel didn’t have a token, only ever visiting when on Guardian duty. Without a token he couldn’t gain access, not without going through the Gatekeeper.
As they stepped closer to the gates, Lennon made a sound from the back of his throat. His fingers trembled when he pointed once again at the other entrance, stamping his foot when Axel shrugged.
“We don’t have a fucking coin token. What else do you want me to do?”
The stone mausoleum was just beyond the tall, sharp fence, the metal oxidised as he reached over to rattle the locked gate.
“Run, and I’ll hunt you down,” Axel warned before he turned his back. “Gatekeeper!” he called through the gaps, ignoring the flickers of white in his peripheral. Cemeteries were the one place some of the stronger spooks could become corporal, but only if you acknowledged them for more than a few seconds. “I need entrance.”
Lennon crouched behind a large grave, knuckles white as sweat glistened off his forehead. Mewling sounds echoed from his open mouth, but Axel ignored him as he waited.
“Ya lost?” a strange, detached voice echoed. “Or you out ‘ere taking the Mick?”
Axel felt fingers brushing his shoulder, followed by pins and needles as he spun, only to find nothing but empty air.
