…the Shadow
slipped into the Waking Lands as silently as it could. For the second cycle
in succession it had the need to leave the Darqlands when the Waking Lands
were not bathed in the concealing blanket of the night. The soul trapped
in the Heart of the Darqlands was progressing, but not fast enough. It needed
more Despair, it needed something powerful the fuel the hate. Then the Shadow
could make its grand entrance, attract as much attention as it liked, but
for now stealth was its most useful ally. Stealing along the back streets
it picked up minor souls, destitutes and derelicts, too far gone to be a
choice source of Despair, but a source nevertheless. Then into the Underground,
the oppressive subteranian haven for Despair carved by the sweat and labour
mankind. Miles of dank tunnels burrowed beneath the city connecting small
caverns of harsh light crammed with people, desperate to be somewhere else.
And there, suicide. Sweet suicide, the final solution for the Despairing
Soul, the instant release. Not easy pickings, even for the most skillful
hunter, to catch the soul before it jumps into oblivion. The Shadow slipped
along in the dark gap between glinting silver track and the platform edge,
the place where normal travellers never look for fear of being sucked in
along with the litter and dust, dead cells shed by the thousands of commuters
that stood waiting for a train each day. Jumpers always looked there, longing
to be engulfed in the blackness as the unsuspecting train thundered in, and
there the Shadow would see them, see the depth of Despair behind their lifeless
eyes as the leapt, and there it would wait. In the distance, along the
inpenitrable black of the tunnel, the distinct rumble of an approaching
west-bound train… …"brother?"…
…the Shadow knew that voice (go
away)…
…"old tricks brother?"…
…that voice was dead, long ago (leave me
alone)…
…"and in the day-light too?"…
…the Shadow scanned along the line of people poised
on the edge of the platform (I'm busy)…
…"the surprise is as much mine as yours I believe,
I thought you long dead"…
…there! A tall figure, thin, insectoid frame,
wrapped in a long dark coat, only vaguely unfamiliar, but oozing conceit
from its predatory face. The same hawk-face, the same hooded eyes, the same
smug grin. The clammer of steel wheels on steel tracks was getting louder
and the tunnel flashed with electric sparks, illuminating the dark with fleeting
flares of lightning…
…"there's no point in hiding down there,
come, let us greet like long lost brothers"… …the Shadow flowed up over the concave lip of platform
and slithered between the feet of the waiting passengers like spilt ink filmed
in reverse. It slunk into protection of a darkened corner, away from curious
eyes and un-poured itself into the semblance of a human form. A violent wind
tore along the platform, a vast column of air driven in front of the approaching
train. As the beams of the train lights punctured the hole of the tunnel,
the Shadow stepped forward, into the light…
…"ho-ho, it's a while since you last did
that! I think you need more practice. Nevermind, none of these mortals can
see you, those that can, I have convinced
otherwise"…
…there was a scream, the Shadow shrunk back in fear of being seen, its
near-humanlike eyes darting left and right, scanning the platform. A jumper!
Too late! the Shadow lamented the waste. The Angel was smiling…
…"opps! Missed! C'est la guérè,
there will be others, I'm sure. Now, well then, its not like you to venture
out in the day-light, things must be tough, or are you just getting
bolder?"…
…the Shadow shrugged…
…"as talkative as ever I see. I guess I'll be
doing the talking for both of us then, just like old times hey? So, what
have you been up to? No, I don't suppose you care for small-talk either.
Well, I admit I never expected to find you here, I was after different prey.
Of a different sort, err, Well, yes. Seen anything of the
others?"…
…the Shadow grimaced, as if in great pain, struggling
to gain control of its unused voice "Hecate -" It rasped, a guttural tone
that sounded like a slab of pig iron being dragged across the concrete floor
of a vast empty warehouse…
…"that old crone! What's the witch up to now? Frightening little
children?"…
…"c-atzzz"… …"ah, that's were she got to, ran off with
her familiars to play Queen of the Castle. I thought as much. And what brought
her to your attention… …"killzzz ... Darqnezzz"…
…look, it would be a lot easier of we connected
minds…
…FUCKOFFOUTOFMYFUCKINGMINDYOUFUCKINGVAMPYRE!… …"okay, okay, calm down, I'm out. Whoa, touchy
ain't yar! Let me see. The witch is killing your darkness, and I presume
you intend to kill her in return. Therefore, I surmise that you are constructing
a little nemesis of your very own to defeat her and the hungry little bugger
is eating you out of house and home, so you are out now collecting despairing
souls to feed it. Am I right, or am I?… …"yessz"…
…"give me a break! Monosyllabic conversation is
bad enough, but one word at a time. I promise not to do anything once I'm
in there, just let me in so we can at least have a proper
conversation"… …"no!" the Shadow started to sublimate, the
fabrication of form it created simultaneously vanishing in all four dimensions,
not shrinking, just going away into the distance without moving. And then
it was back in the solitude of the Darqlands, the Angel left standing on
the Underground platform, starring at the space the Shadow
vacated…
…"well, it's been ... really ... Yar, Gotta go,
places to see, people to go. We must do this again sometime, no really. Lunch,
let's lunch. Say in another five millennia." The Angel called out to the
departing Shadow, mockingly. He turned round, the Station was in turmoil,
huge crowds had gathered around the Jumper, the emergency services fighting
their way through, more people cutting across from the east-bound platform
to see the morbid side-show. 'Time I was going too.' He thought to himself,
calmly walking against the grain, up flights of escalators and into the packed
city street. 'Hecate... Attacking the Darqness, taking on my shadowy brother?
No, this is not her way.' He walked, as he mused over the possibilities and
likelihoods of his siblings and their actions, without realising where he
was going. He strolling across a wide busy road as if it were an open field.
Taxi's blared their horns, their drivers hailing abuse out of their windows,
cyclists swerved to avoid him, raining down more verbal battery. There was
a squeal of rubber on Tarmac and a deafening blast of air-horns, he looked
up in time to see the horror on the drivers' face as the gleaming gold
forty-tonne bus impacted his tall insectoidal
body…
…the Shadow
slipped into the Waking Lands as silently as it could. For the second cycle
in succession it had the need to leave the Darqlands when the Waking Lands
were not bathed in the concealing blanket of the night. The soul trapped
in the Heart of the Darqlands was progressing, but not fast enough. It needed
more Despair, it needed something powerful the fuel the hate. Then the Shadow
could make its grand entrance, attract as much attention as it liked, but
for now stealth was its most useful ally. Stealing along the back streets
it picked up minor souls, destitutes and derelicts, too far gone to be a
choice source of Despair, but a source nevertheless. Then into the Underground,
the oppressive subteranian haven for Despair carved by the sweat and labour
mankind. Miles of dank tunnels burrowed beneath the city connecting small
caverns of harsh light crammed with people, desperate to be somewhere else.
And there, suicide. Sweet suicide, the final solution for the Despairing
Soul, the instant release. Not easy pickings, even for the most skillful
hunter, to catch the soul before it jumps into oblivion. The Shadow slipped
along in the dark gap between glinting silver track and the platform edge,
the place where normal travellers never look for fear of being sucked in
along with the litter and dust, dead cells shed by the thousands of commuters
that stood waiting for a train each day. Jumpers always looked there, longing
to be engulfed in the blackness as the unsuspecting train thundered in, and
there the Shadow would see them, see the depth of Despair behind their lifeless
eyes as the leapt, and there it would wait. In the distance, along the
inpenitrable black of the tunnel, the distinct rumble of an approaching
west-bound train…
…the Shadow flowed up over the concave lip of platform
and slithered between the feet of the waiting passengers like spilt ink filmed
in reverse. It slunk into protection of a darkened corner, away from curious
eyes and un-poured itself into the semblance of a human form. A violent wind
tore along the platform, a vast column of air driven in front of the approaching
train. As the beams of the train lights punctured the hole of the tunnel,
the Shadow stepped forward, into the light…