I left his office with a grin on my face and a lighter heart because leaving would be easy now that I knew that Cora was in charge. Cora would do the job justice.
Necro was the city of buses and underground trains. Before the event, the city had been the capital of the country, a tourist attraction and home to a beloved monarchy. But the monarchy relocated, and the city was left to the tourists and those of us who worked to run it. Driving in Necro was a bitch, but the underground rail network covered the whole city. There was no need to run a car, although at three in the morning, the roads were practically empty on this side of the city. The crisp night air was almost silent, and the world was truly asleep.
The tube station I needed was a seven-minute walk from the office, a walk that took me past one of the entrances to Deadside. There were three in total, but this was the main one, and every time I passed it, my feet slowed at the wrought iron gates that rose up into the night.
The iron fencing ran all the way around Deadside, reinforced by wards we didn’t understand. Once the largest cemetery in the center of the city, it was now home to a small percentage of the dead. Why these souls were chosen wasn’t common knowledge. But once I was on the other side of those gates, I’d know.
Moonlit headstones and tombs complete with spooky vibes were visible through the gates. They stretched as far as the eye could see. The spirits of the dead laid here had moved on decades ago; now this hallowed ground was home to new spirits. I caught a glimpse of a face, a body moving swiftly. It was all that was visible from this side of the gates. The wards on this place were underworld-issue. The only way to see what truly lay beyond was to be authorized admission. The gates wouldn’t open otherwise.
They’d open to me on the date specified on my transfer memo. After that, I’d be permitted to come and go at will.
A shiver of apprehension ran through me. Not long now.
With a final look at the forbidding gates and the moonlit gravestones beyond, I hoisted my box of stuff higher on my hip and headed toward the tube station.
The empty streets didn’t usually bother me; neither did the silence. It was soothing. But for some reason, there was an edgy feeling in the pit of my stomach this morning. But I wasn’t the only person out and about at this time. A man walked ahead of me, suitcase in hand, steps hurried. He turned down Pembroke Street—technically more of a wide alley—which connected two main streets. It was my regular shortcut to the station. I reached the mouth of the alley just as a surprised bellow hit the night air.
“What? Argh!” the man cried.
The lights were out down the alley, and with the moon stuck behind cloud cover, the route was dark and forbidding. A large, lumpy shadow writhed on the ground, grunting and gurgling.
The man was being attacked. Probably mugged.
“Hey! Hey, stop!” I dropped my box and ran toward the huddle. “Leave him alone.”
I was almost on them, handbag at the ready to hit the attacker, when the moon came out, lighting up the scene.
The man lay on the ground, head twisted at an odd angle, eyes wide with shock, and a thing sat astride him. Thing. Not person. Fucking thing. Naked and twisted with corded arms and legs. Its head was pressed to the man’s chest, and sounds—awful, wet, munching, crunching sounds—drifted up into the air.
Every hair on my in-need-of-a-wax body stood up in salute.
Monster.
The word filled my head even as my mind rebelled.
Monsters weren’t real. Monsters were confined to books and video games, but here it was. Eating a man. Blood pounding in my head, bladder squeezing painfully with the need to release. I took a careful step back.
Run. My muscles ached to flee. Oh, God. I wasn’t a fast runner. My ass and thighs loved gravity way too much, but I needed to turn and run. I needed to do it now.
I took another step back, preparing to turn on my heel and make a break for it.
The monster stopped feeding, and I stopped breathing. It slowly raised its bulbous head to look at me with its scream-worthy, empty-your-bladder grotesque face. My scream locked in my throat as its gaping, circular maw pulsed in my direction as if eager to latch on to something else.
Latch on to me.
Run, dammit. Feet, what the fuck?
But my body was in meltdown, unable to move, unable to save itself. The thing inched closer in a jerky marionette way that made my insides curdle. A spine-numbing chittering sound filled the air. My heart pounded so loud in my chest it was ready to smash some ribs because I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this thing, whatever it was, meant to eat me too. It intended to put its pulsing, teeth-infested mouth onto my flesh and chomp.
It was going to kill me.
I didn’t want to die.
My paralysis snapped just as it lunged. I smacked it in the head with my bag and then ran. The mouth of the alley grew closer. Almost there. Almost out.
A weight slammed into my back, pitching me forward. No. Fuck this. No. I twisted beneath the monster and brought my fist up to connect with the side of its head, knocking its mouth away.
Fight.
I had to fight.
The heat of rage burned away my terror as I bucked and lashed out at the monster. Its hand landed on my throat, pinning me. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t fucking move. Its stinky breath wafted into my face. No, no, no. Tears of impotence leaked from the corners of my eyes. Fuck you, monster. I hope you bloody choke on me.
The monster’s mouth came at my face, and the scream locked in my throat finally broke free, but the bite of teeth never came.
The weight on me was gone. I was free.
I scrambled to my feet.
The monster was several feet away, and a man—tall, broad-shouldered with a tapered waist, dressed in wicked black leather—stood between us. His hair was golden, gleaming in the moonlight. I wanted to see his face. I needed to see it. Forgetting the danger, I took a step closer to him.
His shoulders rippled with tension, but he didn’t turn to me. And why would he, for fuck’s sake? There was a bloody monster to deal with.
“Hello, mouth,” the man said in a smooth chocolate voice.
Mouth? Was he addressing the monster? Apt name, if he was.
“Out of my way, demon,” the monster said in a sibilant rasp. “Unless you wish to be my meal. You’re no match for me.”
“Seems like the human managed to get in a few good punches,” golden boy said. “I don’t think you’re as tough as you make out.”
“That?” the mouth hissed. “I was playing with it. The fear and adrenaline make the flesh taste so much sweeter.” Its maw pulsed eagerly. “You, I won’t play with.”
“What about me?” another male voice said.
A figure floated down into the alley. This man was all long dark locks, dark eyes, and angry brows low over an aquiline nose. But the thing that had my attention was the huge black wings rising behind him. They vanished as his boots touched the ground. The moon slipped behind a cloud again, and his face was hidden by shadows.
The word reaper blazed in my mind.
“How do you want to do this, Peiter?” the golden-haired dude asked the one with dark locks.
Peiter reached over his shoulder and drew a huge fuck-off silver sword. “Painfully.”
The mouth let out a warbling scream that was cut short as the golden-haired dude and the reaper rushed him.