Visus Verus Volume 1 Read online

  “What’s there?”

  “A dwindling life and a close friend of yours and mine. Please hurry, before he bleeds out,” stressed Noir as he wandered towards Kristophe’s office.

  Silence had been sitting waiting in Kristophe’s office for over an hour while Kristophe went about his daily routine.

  “It’s been a while. Now, may I ask what you’re waiting for?” asked Kristophe.

  “The phone tells me what to do next.”

  “The phone?”

  “Yeah… well, Noir sends me my next job… I think,” said Silence, falling into his common state of reflection.

  “I just had to ask him a question,” laughed Kristophe, returning to his routine.

  The oak door creaked open and in stepped Noir, abandoning any intention of formality. Kristophe didn’t acknowledge Noir’s intrusion, nor did he care that Noir was rudely searching through his bookshelf.

  “I’m borrowing this one,” said Noir, taking a book bound in centuries old leather.

  “I didn’t think you were one for prophecies.”

  “I’m not, there’s just something I need to clear up.” Noir picked up the briefcase that had been delivered by Silence and clicked it open to check the contents. He flicked through a few wads of cash before locking the briefcase back up.

  “How long’s he been like that?” asked Noir, gesturing towards the vacant Silence.

  “I asked him what he was waiting for a minute ago and, well, I think he’s still figuring that out.”

  “I love this guy,” Noir knelt by Silence’s ear; “Oi,” pelted Noir hoping to reach the shadow-fiend.

  It must be Noir, I work for him, who else could it be? Does he have a boss? I wonder who a man like that answers to.

  “Oi.”

  Silence’s thought process broke with the sound of Noir’s voice. His eyes lit up like torches with fresh batteries.

  “I’m sure it won’t be much longer,” said Silence, as if his conversation with Kristophe had never halted. Standing behind him, Noir placed his hands on Silence’s shoulders, laughing erratically.

  “You really need to sort this thinking thing out, mate.”

  “Thinking thing?” responded Silence.

  “I’m not sure he even notices it,” laughed Kristophe.

  “I forgot to tell you. Between jobs you’re free to do as you wish. If you like, I could have the phone schedule free-time messages into its schedule. I’d hate for you to get lost trying to work out what to do,” laughed Noir, prodding his phone. Silence’s phone pinged in his pocket. He looked up as if he was about to have another painstakingly long thought.

  “No, no. It just says free-time, please don’t give it any thought till I’m gone,” said Noir, grabbing his book and briefcase. “I’ve got a lot to do. I’ll see you later, okay?”

  Noir left the office with Kristophe still working through his paperwork and Silence pondering on the true meaning of free time.

  Chapter Six

  Mie-Mie pulled a large cart of alien-like plants to the front door of a small tool shop named Ryan’s Wares. She didn’t walk in; she just popped her head through the door and yelled, “Delivery,” but no one replied. Mie-Mie grew impatient within the few seconds it took for a gangly, potbellied old man to appear from inside the tool shop.

  “For Huxley is it, ma’am?” asked the old man.

  “Yes, can I leave it here?”

  “Oh no, ma’am, you must take it round the back.”

  “What? Can’t you take it?”

  “I’m afraid not, ma’am. The alchemy lab is off limits to me.”

  Mie-Mie’s impatience grew to anger while she rode a large service elevator down to the alchemy lab beneath the tool shop. The elevator’s rusted metal gate opened into a large room filled with desks, computers, sinks, kilns and unrecognisable equipment, ranging from large to pathetically small, all made entirely of finely polished stainless steel. The blinding lights in the walls, ceilings and floors stung her eyes, while the loud and clunky whirring of the air filtration system rattled her already irate brain.

  “I hate this place,” said the witch as she struggled to pull the cart through the migraine-inducing lab. “Hello,” she bellowed, “Huxley, you fat fool?” Her words echoed through the lab. A soft fizz followed the crack of an opening beer can.

  “Mie-Mie? Is that you?” called a voice from the same direction, after a few slurping sips and a heavy gulp. “Wait there. I’ll be right over.”

  The sound of the cart’s screeching wheels was replaced with the bass thump of cumbersome footsteps as Mie-Mie stopped, and a short round figure made its way through the blinding light. Mie-Mie giggled at the sight of the scruffy haired, flush-skinned man before her eyes. She found his tight clothing and singed leather apron hilarious. He didn’t get the joke.

  “Huxley, you’re a mess,” laughed Mie-Mie as the round-shouldered brown-haired man inspected the plants in her cart.

  “Should I have made myself pretty for you?” asked Huxley in a nonchalant manner.

  “Could you just sign the paperwork?”

  “Why are you delivering these plants?”

  “Noir texted me, saying it was ‘important’ I brought them and that you would explain.”

  “Oh, right, I remember.”

  Huxley rushed back into the brightly lit distance. For a while there were clinks and clanks followed by the occasional clang. Mie-Mie’s current confusion justified her prior reclusive lifestyle. If she hadn’t left her hovel in the Caribbean, she wouldn’t be standing there waiting for one of her youngest brother’s oafish friends, she wouldn’t be dealing with a control freak boss and she definitely wouldn’t have this horrible headache.

  Before Mie-Mie could finish listing all the things that were wrong with her life, Huxley returned holding a small but thick wooden bangle in his palm.

  “What’s that?” asked the witch, whose anger had seemed to settle once more.

  “Noir asked me to make it for you days ago.”

  “An oak armlet? I guess Kristophe will like it.”

  “That’s why it’s oak, but that isn’t all it is, Mie-Mie. Go on, give it a snap.”

  Mie-Mie held the oak bangle out and snapped it. In her outstretched hands appeared a broomstick. She loved it. The witch gave it a twirl before touching the rounded tip to her wrist, returning it to its previous state, fitting comfortably around her wrist.

  “A mode of transportation reminiscent of your mother’s era,” said Huxley through a proud smile.

  “It’s great, but why’s it so important I have this?”

  “Noir said you would need it to flee a danger in the coming war.”

  “War?”

  “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that…” Huxley looked around for a way to avoid the next few questions that his slip-up must have posed.

  “What war? What do you know?”

  “Noir didn’t tell me much.”

  “That’s a lie. My brother tells you everything.”

  “I… um,” Huxley threw a pellet to the ground, creating a cloud of smoke between him and Mie-Mie.

  He ran, but before he could create any distance between them, the witch pulled a thin and pointed wand from out of her sleeve. She circled her wrist as if she were spinning the world’s smallest lasso, and as she flicked forward, Huxley felt the air around his arms, chest, and back constrict and bind around him.

  “Damn it,” he said to himself as he flew back towards Mie-Mie. The alchemist’s flight came to a crashing end by the witch’s feet. Huxley couldn’t move his arms, and as he wriggled for a moment like a worm unearthed by a starved magpie, like the worm, he looked up at his captor in acceptance of his demise.

  “I believe we were talking,” said Mie-Mie, through the devilish grin she shared with her brothers.

  Chapter Seven

  Wyll arrived at an abandoned building. Steam rose from his scarred flesh as he lifted a large steel floor panel revealing an almost vertical staircase stretch
ing deep into darkness. The half-cooked vampire closed the floor panel behind him and ran at such an astonishing speed that he had cleared almost two miles in the three minutes he had been running. A set of bronze doors stood before Wyll as he came to a steady upright stop. The doors were set in a wall made of ancient dirt, compressed by the pressure of the world above. Wyll opened the doors and strode valiantly through the ancient halls of the Vampire Nation with a brilliant grin on his face. He was happy to be able to share the events of the meeting with his king, but his pale white ears tingled at the sound of Ashel’s furious tone from down the hall.

  “WYLL, WYLL, COME HERE NOW!” echoed Ashel’s voice through the Vampire Nation halls.

  The veins on Ashel’s forehead pulsated above his fierce and fiery red eyes. His face was that of an animal, with his sharp and pointed fangs bared like a rabid dog. His fingernails had grown long and sharp and every muscle in his slim body tensed. This state of rage had earned the vampire king the name of Ashel The Furious and it was aimed directly at Wyll, who was sitting praying to Satan that his king would see past his anger and spare his life.

  “Why? How? I don’t understand. I would really like you to explain this shit,” snarled Ashel.

  “What’s happened, Sire?”

  “You don’t even know? I should end your immortality imminently.”

  “Sire, please.” Ashel couldn’t calm down. He had heard about Sho, when usually a human being harmed wouldn’t even touch his mind. After all, most of them were just sentient bags of food, but Sho was a friend and a dear one at that.

  “Why am I being informed by wolves, of all creatures?” bellowed the furious king.

  “I hired wolves to watch our properties, Sire.”

  Closing his eyes, Ashel clenched his fists tight, his nails dug deep into his palms. “They say he might not make it.”

  “Who?”

  “Sho. He was found bleeding to death with a dwarven blade in his stomach.”

  “Can’t we just heal him?” Ashel’s rage fell from his body like a blood-drenched gown as he regressed to a state of hopelessness. The blood from his palms ran down his fingers and dripped from his retracting nails. The king opened his eyes; they were a pale blue like the shallow waters of a barren lake. In seeing this, Wyll’s fear doubled, because his king had never been so fragile.

  “He has lost too much human blood. If we give him any vampire blood, he will turn.” Wyll understood the problem.

  His husband felt the same way Sho did about becoming a vampire. To them an eternity without the sun’s light was a fate worse than death. “Sire, I…”

  Ashel returned to his seat after circling it a few times. He filled a small crystal glass with thick icy blood and took a very small sip.

  “Now, just give me some good news,” demanded Ashel in a voice weary of disdain.

  “Although we have lost more than our yearly allowance of younglings, Leo is willing to let us turn seventy more younglings. He has also put a ban on the deliverance of the final demise.”

  “So, the zodiac king has ever so slightly allowed the collar that chokes our nation to relax. I said good news.”

  “I’m afraid I haven’t got any good news to give you, Sire.”

  “Then why are you still here?” Wyll stood and sheepishly bowed before rushing out of the room. The day was to be a long one and the night even longer. Wyll took his phone and dialled Noir’s number, a thing most people did before setting themselves on a path of bloodshed and vengeance.

  Chapter Eight

  A few stars twinkled in the icy void, and although the sun took its early winter’s rest, the city was very much awake. Silence had spent hours with Jaydon learning about the oddly fragranced contents of the room labelled wort-cunning. The young wizard didn't mind explaining things to Silence, he could remember getting used to his vacant moments of deep thought. The shadow-fiend had just finished concocting a recipe written by Jaydon, when his phone began to ping.

  4:25pm visit zodiac HQ for close-combat training.

  “What’s it say? Sire, what’s it say?” asked Jaydon full of hopeful excitement.

  “I’ve got to go to the zodiac H.Q.” Jaydon’s awkwardly large smile turned to a drooping frown. “For combat training?” He knew what the phone said, though he had hoped it would be different. But the path that reality had set upon was already laid out and had no chance of divergence.

  “Why do I need combat training?” asked Silence.

  “Self-defence mainly,” Jaydon smiled, “You’re not gonna like it, Sire.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “My dad’s going to give you a very hard time… I think.” The phone pinged again.

  Begin journey.

  “You’d best be off, Sire,” said Jaydon, chugging down Silence’s concoction. “This should help me forget.”

  After loyally following the destination marker on his phone, Silence found himself at an old pub. The pub reminded him of Noir’s living room. It looked as though the staff had never heard of a hoover or dust cloth, although the brass beer taps were polished to perfection. Cobwebs hung from the light fixtures like well-placed Halloween decorations. There were chairs laid atop the many tables within the pub; the lonely barman clearly didn’t expect many customers. The dusty bar, covered in little black rings that might have been sticky a time before the dust had permanently settled, had a clean spot for the limited customer base. The only part of the pub that was actually clean was behind the bar. The bottle fridges, the glass racks, even the area for the cutting of various fruits and vegetables, set aside for the rare occasion of someone ordering a Pimms, all of this was immaculate. The more Silence scanned the pub, the more he saw Noir’s living room. It even had the same musky stale air, although Noir’s house lacked the fragrant aroma of piss-flavoured ale, which seemed to cut directly through the musk and cling to your nasal hairs.

  This is just a dirty old pub, where’s the zodiac headquarters? Silence was sure he had been misled. The confused shadow-fiend drifted towards the bar, while his mind closed off his sensory system to try and reroute enough brain power to figure out what he was supposed to do.

  “You’re in the right place,” spoke the shady, gap-toothed barman.

  “What?”

  “Close your eyes.” Silence did as he was told and felt an odd tingle down his spine, reminiscent of Mie-Mie’s intrusion of his mind.

  “YOU CAN OPEN YOUR EYES NOW.”

  Silence found himself in an endless hall as wide as it was long. With no walls on the brightly lit horizon, Silence knew this couldn’t be real. It had to be another mind trick. He focused on the smell of the wort-cunning room that he had familiarised himself with. He looked around for the green rope he expected to use to return to the real world, but it wasn’t there. He couldn’t envision it like he had done. Before he could panic, Silence’s seemingly independent brain reminded him that Noir had meant for him to be there. So instead of looking for a way out, he looked for the voice that told him to open his eyes. It wasn’t the same as the barman’s; it was more dominant and had a tone of pure self-righteousness. As he felt the vibrations of the bass-laden voice, Leo appeared somewhere in the distance.

  “I’M IMPRESSED.”

  The voice was there, in front of him but also all around him. It was under his feet, above his head, behind his back and pushing on his chest. Silence didn’t like it. He could see Leo in the many distances in sight. The nervous shadow fiend-focused on all of the apparitions and imagined pulling them to him, ready to fight off whatever danger they posed.

  “HOW ARE You…?”

  Leo appeared directly in front of Silence at a comfortable distance. Silence recognised the similarities between Leo and Jaydon. Leo even had Jaydon’s awkwardly placed and over-sized ears.

  “Leo?” asked Silence, coming to a calmer state.

  “You really are a true shadow fiend. You know if you weren’t working for Noir, I’d have to personally put you down.” Beneath Leo’s larger than
life nostrils cracked a familiar grin. This confirmed his identity. Silence didn’t even have to think on the matter.

  “Could I ask where we are?” asked Silence.

  “This is the consensus, an alternate reality made up of the collective consciousness of those who belong to the zodiac order.”

  Silence went blank. Leo wasn’t sure why, but he was worried. A shadow sprouted from under Silence’s heel. Shadows didn’t exist in this reality and the sight of it startled Leo. His heartbeat rose and he could feel his palms moisten within his gauntlets.

  The shadow stretched across the room, disappearing into the horizon. Silence’s eyes closed and his jaw dropped. He moaned a noise which could not be heard, but felt, deep within Leo’s pounding heart. The shadow widened and as Leo stepped back in fear, it washed over the endless room, bringing its bright limitless space into darkness. Leo felt droplets of sweat protrude from his forehead as walls appeared around him. Silence retracted his jaw and opened his eyes. The two were standing in an empty version of the room labelled wort-cunning.

  “How did you…?” Leo was speechless.

  “You said this place was made of consciousness. I just focused on being in a place of comfort.”

  “It shouldn’t work like that. It’s… it…”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “You can do whatever you want, apparently.”

  “Where are all the people who belong to the order?”

  “I was going to take you there, but I’m not entirely sure where we are now.”

  Silence walked to the exit of the room and pulled open the door. On the other side was just an empty white void. Leo looked out onto the void and was shocked. Silence didn’t see it. Leo stepped out onto the void and touched a wall that wasn’t there. He grasped the air and pulled away his surroundings, unveiling a small room with a single door.