shades. He watched the shadows grow stronger, bolder, pooling in patches around the room, growing in strength as the daylight surrendered its supremacy once again to the inevitable night.
He had switched off the lamp after Francis had departed, preferring the solitude of darkness. Carol Berg had called repeatedly, but he did not pick up. He couldn’t bear to speak with her now.
He couldn’t let her know that this was all because of him. All he could do now was sit and wait.
And do everything in his power to make things right.
Remy’s eyes fell on a deepening stain of black on the closet door. There was something about the shadow and the swiftness with which it seemed to move across the wooden surface, blotting out the slats as it flowed down to the floor like dripping ink.
Remy stood and cautiously approached the door, feeling the cold radiating from the area. This is it, he thought as he reached out for the door, not surprised to feel nothing beneath his fingertips but cool air. A passage had been opened for him, and he did as he was expected to do, stepping into the blackness.
The entrance gradually constricted and closed behind him, leaving him standing alone in a world composed entirely of shades of darkness. He turned slowly, attempting to get his bearings. Every one of his senses was alive, searching for something, anything, to take hold of. The place smelled of cool dampness, like an old basement, and that strange hollow sound he had heard over the phone was carried in the air.
He raised his hand, willing it to be filled with the divine light of Heaven, and his fingers started to glow, dispelling the shadows. Holding his burning hand aloft, he walked farther into the shadowy world. There was a bizarre landscape beneath the cover of darkness, and Remy thought he might have seen movement among the inhospitable terrain.
There was a sudden flash of brilliance, followed closely by what sounded like a clap of thunder, and Remy experienced an intense pain in his burning hand, and quickly pulled it to him.
There was no doubt about it; he’d been shot.
“Extinguish your damnable light, you fool,” boomed a voice from somewhere in the gloom.
Remy fell to his knees, clutching his bleeding hand against his chest, waves of pain coursing through his body with each beat of his heart. He could feel his rage growing, eclipsing any logical thought. The pressure of Ashley being taken coupled with the shrieking pain in his injured hand made it difficult for him to see beyond the violence that the Seraphim could unleash.
But he managed to hold it together, watching as a pair of muted green lights like cat’s eyes grew steadily closer, as did an engine’s roar. And then a vintage limousine stopped just inches from him with a squeal of brakes. Remy stood as the driver’s-side door swung open and a powerful figure unfolded itself from within, rifle by its side.
“Sorry for shooting you,” the man said. “But your fire would have drawn the beasts in droves.”
He stepped into the green light thrown by the vehicle’s headlights, and Remy could see that the pale skin of his face was adorned with swirling, patterned tattoos. He slung his weapon over his shoulder and smiled.
“Besides, what harm could a little gunshot do to an angel of Heaven?”
Remy’s anger was about to be unleashed when a horrible roar echoed through the endless night surrounding them.
“They’ve seen your light after all,” the pale man said. “We should get to the house quickly.” He turned and strode back to the car, pausing as he opened the driver’s-side door. “Are you coming, or do you plan to acquaint yourself with one of the hungry beasts that call the Shadow Lands home? It’s really up to you.”
Remy hesitated, but then the roar came again, this time much closer, and he climbed into the passenger’s side of the limousine beside the tattooed figure.
“Thought you’d change your mind,” the man said, putting the car in drive, turning it around, and stomping on the accelerator.
Remy had no idea how he could tell where he was going in the inky darkness, but it was obvious that he could.
“Shit,” the pale man hissed as he glanced into the rearview mirror.
Remy turned to look out through the back window, and was shocked to see something quickly coming up behind them, its monstrous shape faintly illuminated in the greenish glow thrown by the vehicle’s taillights. Then it fell back, once again lost in the swirling darkness. And just as he was about to look away, Remy thought he saw something else: a small humanoid figure wearing a hooded cloak and peering out from the shadows, before disappearing in the blink of an eye.
“Hold the wheel,” the driver bellowed, releasing his grip before Remy could even reach across. The car began to swerve, but Remy managed to take hold of the wheel and control of the vehicle.
The tattooed man had rolled down the window and was hanging out with his rifle, taking aim at whatever it was that pursued them.
Remy gazed up into the mirror just as the beast surged out from the darkness, its flesh blacker than the shadows surrounding it. It had no eyes, but its mouth was enormous and round and ringed with multiple rows of saw blade-like teeth. It galloped on all fours, its powerful limbs tight with muscle. It stretched its neck and was just about to take the bumper in its open maw when the rifleman fired.
The creature reared back with a pain-filled shriek. For a moment it was lost in the shadows, but it emerged at an even faster clip, enraged by its injury. The tattooed man did not hesitate, firing three more times in rapid succession. With the last of the shots, the great beast pitched forward in a tumble, and Remy caught a glimpse of other, smaller monsters of shadow pouncing on their dead pursuer before there was once again only blackness in the rear window.
The driver drew himself back inside, placing his rifle on the seat between them.
“That should distract them,” he said, relieving Remy of his steering duties. “They’d just as soon eat one of their own as chase us.”
“Good shooting,” Remy said.
“Living here in the Shadow Lands, you can’t afford to be anything but.”
Remy was about to ask some questions when he thought he saw something through the ebony pitch ahead. At first he didn’t believe his eyes, but then realized that, in fact, what he saw was real.
A mansion sat in the midst of the darkness, its every window alive with light, tinted the same unearthly green of the car’s headlights.
“Welcome to the Deacon estate,” the driver said, as he blew the car’s horn.
And the wrought-iron gates across the driveway slowly parted wide to receive them.
CHAPTER TEN
“Get out,” the tattooed man ordered, bringing the vintage car to a stop in front of the steps of the elaborate home.
Remy gave him a quick glance before doing as he was told. He had barely closed the door again before the limousine sped off around the side of house, leaving him at the bottom of the stairs, bathed in the green glow of the house lights. He briefly stared off into the pitch darkness of the shadows beyond, imagining what nightmares waited there.
The sound of someone clearing his throat startled Remy, and he turned quickly to see a shape standing in the entryway to the house.
Remy began to climb the stairs as the figure beckoned for him to enter, and then came to realize that it wasn’t a someone who had cleared his throat, but a something.
It was dressed in the classic tuxedo of a butler, but the creature appeared anything but human; in fact, it seemed to be crudely sculpted from clay. It was featureless except for the most rudimentary details-deep, shadow- filled indentations for eyes, two holes in the flat of its face for nostrils, and a crooked slash for a mouth.
Remy carefully watched the clay figure for any sign of hostility, but it remained perfectly still as he passed it and stepped inside the house.
He stopped and gazed about the foyer in amazement. Everywhere there could possibly be a source of illumination, there it was: electric lights, candelabra, candlesticks dripping thick trails of wax on just about every flat
