Born of the Shade Read online

  Contents

  Also in the series

  Preface

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Also in the series

  Also in the series

  VIVENTIUM:

  Born of the Shade

  Into the Shade

  Out of the Shade

  Preface

  All spelling and grammar in this book is UK English except for proper nouns and those American terms which just don’t anglicize.

  Chapter 1

  Frigid December air frosted the windows of stationary cars and petrified the naked branches of the council-planted trees lining the West London streets.

  A dark-skinned man of intentionally inconspicuous character, dressed in a large overcoat and a shirt with a draping grey hood concealing his face, hurried down one such street.

  It was a street like any other in the area. Houses packed tightly together, most seemingly absent of life. Snow fell silently, dampening the pavement. He wasn’t sure why he was there. He couldn’t remember. In his hand was a modified iPhone; it had an antenna and was at least an inch thick. Inscribed on its back were the words, “Property of Noir”. The phone’s screen was lit with a calendar alert:

  1/12/17: Blue moon (Full) | Argyle Road 22:35

  “I'm late. Shit, I'm late,” Noir swore.

  His phone had been ringing on and off for a while and each time, a picture of a man was displayed with the name Lawrez above it. The picture was comical; the man clearly hadn’t wanted it taken as his face displayed utter annoyance.

  The picture depicted the brown-haired man in nothing but a towel, stretching his massive body builder frame as he was reaching out in frustration. Every time Lawrez called, Noir ignored it and a message was left in his voicemail box.

  It didn't matter.

  There was something much more important he had to bear witness to: a blue moon. It had been years since the last one and now another peeked through the cloud, casting an eerie cerulean glow across the city.

  Just then a loud and guttural scream startled Noir from farther down Argyle Road.

  A man lay lifeless beneath a barren tree, steam still lingering from his last breath. His eyes were wide, as black and desolate as the night sky. A bloodied tear trickled down his sunken cheek.

  The silence was broken by Noir’s footsteps, picking up their pace as a blue beam broke through the shrouded sky.

  “Oh hell! It's happening. Where is he?”

  The beam shot directly into the man’s body, raising it from the ground. His jaw stretched open, blood pouring from every orifice, flowing like a horrific crimson fountain.

  “Oh my,” whispered Noir, pulling back his hood. Every drop of blood that had once flowed through the man’s veins was now a glutinous plash beneath his levitating feet.

  Noir didn't express astonishment like most would. Instead, he felt it deep in his mind, and it annoyed him like a child annoys an elder. Luckily for Noir—an information broker—there wasn't much that surprised him. If something was a surprise to him, it meant he wasn't doing his job properly.

  He knelt to inspect the bloody pool that now soaked into his socks. “Just blood, but so much.”

  The body moaned a deep and husky death rattle. “This guy’s dead. I don't get it. This can't happen.” Noir stood and began to swipe through the applications on his enhanced iPhone. “Nope, definitely not possible.”

  As the moan became a roar, the body inhaled deeply, further stretching its jowls to elongate its jaw. Noir was worried. He didn't usually get worried, but at this point he was close to panic.

  Every hovering shadow drew towards the body, including Noir’s. The moan rumbled, low and ominous. Noir held his hands over his ears.

  “This ain't right,” he shouted as the shadows combined to flow up the body's blood-drenched legs, growing darker and gaining an almost solid form as it regained its complexion. The corpse, no longer pale, closed its elongated jaw and landed on its feet.

  Noir wracked his brain for an answer to what he was witnessing but could only find fear—another emotion Noir hated. He could usually tame his trepidations, but right now they ran unabated within his mind. An unfamiliar shiver coursed up his spine and his hair stood on end.

  Noir was frozen. Shocked.

  The body’s cheeks filled out. It now stood, revitalized, fully revived. It took a tentative, wobbly step back, then one hard step forward as its eyelids raised, revealing two pitch-black orbs.

  “Who are you?” it asked, focus snapping to Noir.

  The voice clearly reverberated with fear. The worry that caused Noir’s heart to pound heavily in his chest lessened as he watched the body display the kind of vulnerability only found in the face of a lost child. Something sparked in Noir’s mind; he remembered most of why he had set the alert on his phone. Noir was exactly where he needed to be beneath the blue moon.

  Smiling, Noir said, “My name? They call me Noir.”

  “Noir,” whispered the body to itself.

  “And yours?” asked Noir.

  In response, the thing groaned, staring into the pool of blood beneath it.

  “You don't know, do you?” Noir laughed. “I assume you don’t even know what you are?”

  The body looked back up at Noir. “Do you know?”

  “Technically...” Shaking his head with a muted snigger, Noir stopped himself; he wasn't about to divulge information freely. “Tell me. What's the last thing you remember?”

  The body wore an expression as blank as its eyes. It seemed to travel far and wide within its mind, retracing its steps until it was tired, then it looked deep into Noir’s eyes. “Nothing,” it said.

  “Not a single memory of who you were, but you know things, right?” asked Noir.

  “I know where I am,” it said. “I know where I've been. I know a lot of things but what I don't know is who or what I am.”

  Noir couldn't just hear the fury-driven frustration in its voice. He could feel it emanating from deep within the body, like the boom from a subwoofer. Noir knew he had to keep it calm. He had no idea what exactly it was capable of, though he knew these things: The body wouldn’t just have basic knowledge like how to read and write, the importance of money, or what celebrity had recently had a sex tape leaked.

  It knew things, many things.

  It probably recognized Noir, but also would know better than to allow Noir to know this. The thing the body wouldn’t know was how it came to exist.

  “Silence,” said Noir.

  The body's face transformed into a vicious snarl, reminding Noir of a savage hound. “Silence?”

  “Yeah, or would you prefer Tom?”

  The body’s anger retracted, understanding the miscommunication.

  “Silence isn't a very normal name, is it?” asked the body.

  “No, it isn't but you're not exactly a normal person now, are you?” said Noir, grinning.

  The body liked this; it had forgotten the simple fact that it had been
a person. “Silence... hmm, not a bad name, not a great name but it will do… I guess.”

  Silence smiled and patted his reflection away in the pool of blood with his foot until it became a soft ripple. “Does it really matter what I am?”

  “I've got an offer for you, mate.”

  Silence raised his head, blankly as if looking through Noir.

  Noir absently prodded the screen of his phone. The thing, now called silence, was thinking, and Noir would let him. He thought to himself that not many people truly got to choose what they did in life, most having a set of choices strategically placed before them, creating the illusion of personal achievement and setting them upon a path which was inevitably predetermined: fate.

  Noir hoped Silence would conclude to not let something as frivolous as fate determine his path.

  A moment later, Silence stepped out of the crimson puddle and closer to Noir.

  “An offer?” he queried.

  Noir slipped his phone back into the weighted pocket of his overcoat. “A job offer. That is, if you're interested?”

  Silence was interested, he needed a job, but did he really want to work for the infamous Noir? He'd heard a story prior to his current existence. This story crept from a dark place in his mind, a place he was afraid to bring light to. But the man before him was scruffy, unkempt and stout. How could this man be the black beast who bathed in the blood of French revolutionaries? The dates were all wrong, because Noir would then have to be at least three-hundred-years-old.

  “Need more time to think?” Noir asked.

  Silence remained silent, wearing the same blank expression. He shooed the story back to its dark place and listened to the rational thoughts that replaced it. “What kind of job?” he asked.

  Noir smiled, a devilish glint in his eye. “I'm in need of a personal assistant. It won't be an easy job, but it will be rewarding.”

  Silence grew tired of thinking. “Could I have a trial run to see if it suits me?”

  Noir turned and began to walk away. “You can, and it starts immediately. Do follow! We have a bus to catch.” Noir was peculiar in description. Though he looked to be well into his thirties, his dress-sense suggested he was near the end of his teen years. Hearing his voice, he was definitely a well-spoken young man, but his vernacular put his age anywhere between eighteen and ninety. He enjoyed walking and loved public places. He preferred catching a bus to riding in a cab. He liked to listen. Someone told him once that the world had a way of talking.

  The blue light of the moon faded as Silence and Noir made their way through the dimly lit streets. The two reached a busy bus stop. With Silence still drenched in blood, he instantly gained the attention of the small crowd. One old lady approached him with a pack of tissues held in her frail wrinkled hand.

  “Oh dear, look at you. Would you like a tissue?” asked the worried pensioner.

  Silence took a few sheets from out the packet. “Thank you, Ma'am,” he replied.

  “You should really clean yourself up after a nosebleed, my love. A handsome boy like you shouldn't look so rough.” The old lady smiled.

  Seeing that Silence was no one to be worried about, the crowd forgot about his bloodied appearance and continued their ignorant babble. Noir didn't worry about appearance, either. He didn't need to. Londoners had a way of seeing things and instantly accepting them as the norm. It was for this reason that so many supernatural beings called London home.

  The bus came to a sharp halt a few steps before the stop. The crowd climbed on, pressing their Oyster cards on the reader before pushing past their fellow passengers. Noir handed Silence a freedom pass as they followed the crowd.

  “Don't let the driver see the picture,” whispered Noir.

  Noir was resourceful. He didn't like paying for things that he could get for free. He wasn't poor, nor was he frugal. He simply had his ways. He didn't mind paying £20 for a juicy steak, but £1.40 to travel ten minutes down the road in an uncomfortable bus was absurd.

  The two took a seat at the back of the bus. Noir put his feet up on the seat opposite him while Silence sat stiffly and played with a wristband under his sleeve. Noir took note of the wristband, recognising it as a VIP access to an infamous nightclub.

  “Do you know where that wristband you have there came from?” asked Noir.

  “A club in Ealing. I think… I think it's called 109,” answered Silence.

  “You must remember what kind of people visit that club, then?”

  Silence entered his mind again, prodding around to see if he did know but all he could find was uncertainty. He saw visions of strange behaviour, women with droplets of blood trickling down their necks, pale men clearing their chins with red-stained handkerchiefs, groups of men and women with discoloured skin and odd growths. He retraced the steps of his body’s prior occupant and met with a large man whose complexion was as dark as the corners of his mind. Silence felt uneasy in this place, he felt as if he didn't belong.

  “I'm not sure I want to know, really,” replied Silence.

  “I'm not sure you have a choice,” said Noir.

  Chapter 2

  Lawrez waited, leaning against the black metal beam of a large bandstand in the centre of a dark and motionless park. This time, Lawrez was dressed, faded blue jeans and a white shirt that looked as though it might tear from the bulking pressure of his unnatural size. The small giant had given up calling Noir. There was no point. If Noir didn’t have time for you, there would be no reaching him.

  Frustration grew inside Lawrez, his heart racing at what would usually be considered an alarming rate, but this was normal for the man, it being the night of a full moon. There was an anger he couldn’t control, but none of his people could control it that night and that’s why he had to speak to Noir. On the night of a full moon he would take a pill. Small, white and extremely expensive. The pill helped him and his people to control the effects of the full moon, but tonight it did virtually nothing. The pill was a necessity, it maintained order and quelled the demons that lived within the people Lawrez called his pack.

  Lawrez took a receipt from his pocket and looked it over. At the foot of the bill was the name Huxley. As the head of the alchemist’s guild, Huxley’s was a name you could trust; some alchemists would get it wrong, a few accidental deaths here and there, but Huxley was a perfectionist. With his name at the foot of a bill there was no arguing quality.

  It didn’t make any sense. Why did he feel this way?

  Every year the wolves paid their taxes and every year the pills would be delivered. The full moon had never affected him this way. Sweat moistened his brow and his blood pumped hot, hotter than it ever had. A fury flooded his senses. Lawrez left the bandstand and stood upon the grassy earth. His mind encumbered with confusion, he stood staring into the black void where the moon should have rested.

  Why do I feel this way? Why would the pills suddenly stop working? Why, why, why?

  His mind twisted as the shrouding clouds shifted, revealing the light of the blue moon. The vision burned brilliantly in the luminescence of the small giant’s eyes. Every emotion he had ever felt rushed to the surface. Every muscle in his body tightened. His shirt strained from the force of his bulking body. He tried to hold it back, but that was it. The force was too much. The blue moon compelled him. The break in the clouds was only for a second, the azure light of the moon only touched his retinas for a mere second, but it was enough to destroy his inhibitions. He let out a howl, deep, masculine and louder than any canine creature could achieve.

  Fearsome and ferocious, in that moment he became a beast unabated by humanity, his eyes glowed a blue that made the moon’s light pale in comparison. If he had seen more than just a passing glance of the cyanic moon, he would have completely lost control. He would have transformed and without conscious awareness of his actions, he’d have gone on a murderous rampage, killing anything he came across, hunting anything that laid a scent of fear. He was so thankful for the control he had managed to ret
ain. Lawrez understood now, it was the blue moon that lessened the pill’s effectiveness.

  Those little white pills had saved him from himself. He imagined what would have happened if he hadn’t taken the Lycanaid. The blue moon would without a doubt have made him and his people roam the streets of London transformed in the full glory of the werewolf form.

  “Really, Lawrez? Howling at your age?” a voice said as a gauntlet rested on Lawrez’s shoulder.

  Lawrez didn’t flinch. Instead, he bowed his head in shame. “Leo, I couldn’t control myself.”

  The gauntlet belonged to Leo, one of the twelve zodiac incarnations. Well-built, tan-skinned and bald-headed, Leo was the definition of conspicuous. He wore razor-clawed platinum gauntlets, a brown leather coat with a lion’s mane collar left open over his tattooed chest, a pair of platinum greaves marked with black tribal markings, and platinum boots with steel soles. It used to be a full suit of platinum armour, but Leo loved the feel of the stale British air on his chiselled torso.

  Leo pinched Lawrez, drawing blood instantly on his platinum claw. Then, proceeding to drip the freshly-drawn claret into an oddly shaped vial, he said, “That's two infractions this month, Lawrez. One more and you’ll have to do a year's enforcing.”

  All societies adhere to laws, even supernatural societies. Most sects have their own rules, but these were laws that were set long before Earth had life. Laws set in the stars; laws of order to maintain balance, and the zodiacs were the law keepers.