City of Ruin

T HIRTY-FIVE

'I can't stay, Malum. I'm sorry. No matter how much money you throw at me, I want to go.' Beami was standing with her back to the window, daylight hazing around her, a few bags heaped at her feet. Her emotions were evident in her pained expression.

A morning snowstorm rattled outside, as the city was becoming smothered yet again with white. Now and then people would walk by the window behind her, but they seemed completely unreal. He was utterly detached from this moment. Surely this was no way to start the day, was it, with the smell of bacon hanging in the air being ruined for him by his wife walking out.

'Fine.' Malum glanced down at the table, clutching his mask, playing with the red ribbons. Seething.

'I'm sorry.' Beami picked up her bags and began moving towards the door for the final time. 'I haven't taken much. I've got so many precious relics but I can't carry too many of them. It might be easier for me to fetch the rest when there's only one of us in the house… Malum, I really am sorry.'

'Fuck you are,' he breathed, unable to face her – this woman daring to stand up to him.

Beami closed the front door gently behind her, leaving him alone amidst a remarkable stillness.

Her departure from his life was as simple as that.

Shortly after she left, he put on his mask again in an effort to contain the emotions that overwhelmed him.

When you can have anything you want, it's the things you don't have that will get to you.

A trilobite lurched awkwardly into his path, so Malum kicked it. The creature screeched, collapsed awkwardly into a bank of snow, then eventually scampered away towards the docks, antennae bristling in the air. Malum was feeling bellicose, and in no mood to step around anyone or anything, let alone a giant fucking insect. He had spent much of that day in the company of expensive whores who were under his protection. He had ordered them to kiss and fondle each other, wearing corsets and thigh-length boots, while he watched, waiting for something to happen inside himself. But nothing did. Later he had taken out his aggression on minor gangs that had borrowed heavily from him and couldn't repay the interest. He killed two other young men, used them for their blood, then afterwards he berated himself in the darkness of his room, smashing his fist against the wall.

Now he needed help.

She lived at the other side of the Ancient Quarter, the witch, some distance away from the Onyx Wings, in a street that was perhaps the very oldest in the original city. A chilling sea mist had rolled in for the evening, smothering the streets, allowing every corner even more anonymity. Flares of torchlight punctured it occasionally, providing enough guidance for him, though he knew the route by instinct – after all, he had been born and brought up around here. Up ahead someone had abandoned a box of wasted biolumes, their impotent glow revealing only their inevitable death.

The witch had helped him with so many things. After he had been bitten, and he discovered he could not bear to be in sunlight any more, his reaction was one of a violent allergy – but the witch had concocted one of her treatments and healed him, so that he could face sunlight again, and maintain a normal existence.

He found her door, a squat panel of wood set in a damp corner, lichen and moss caking the surrounding stonework, and he knocked twice and stood waiting, his hands buried deep in his pockets. The door opened with a creak, showing it was darker inside than out.

'Sycoraxe,' he greeted her.

The old woman stood there hunched in her shawls, holding a thick wooden staff with a lizard's face carved on the top. Her hair was white and straggly, her face broad yet clearly undernourished. Two blue eyes examined him with ferocity from amid sagging flesh.

'Another potion this time?'

'I'm after something more potent.'

Sycoraxe grunted and let him in, leading him through the cold darkness of her hallway and into the kitchen.

'She left me. The bitch has left me.' He explained his predicament, and the witch watched him, just like she always did, saying nothing, reading between his words for any extra meaning.

'Take off your mask. I'll return presently.' Sycoraxe set off through the house, shifting back and forth, humming to herself between rooms. All the while he sat in a chair feeling miserable.

Eventually she returned, carrying an open book in her hands. She gaped at its pages as she spoke to him. 'You wish for her to be deleted, I take it?'

He pondered for a moment about the chances of renewal, about rebuilding something. He couldn't have this sort of thing happen to him, couldn't let the lads find out, because he'd then be a joke to them, wouldn't he, a man whose wife fucked off.

'Of course I bloody do,' he mumbled finally.

'You can't do this yourself?'

'I don't know where she's gone.'

'As you wish,' she replied. 'I have a little something I've been working on for some time, but never found an opportunity to use it. I'll need some of her belongings, of course. Particularly, get some of those execrable relics, if you can.'

'Fuck are you going to do?'

'Just fetch some of her belongings, and one or two things of your own, while you're at it.'

*

Malum skulked off into the night, wondering what the hell Sycoraxas planning. More than once he had called upon her to find her busy with some unnatural thing contorting in spasms, but he had known better than to ask about it. She was a legend throughout the underground, a being from another time entirely, and her name was whispered with fear.

No doubt she would be overjoyed to have this opportunity to try out some new-fangled evil.

He hacked his way through chill winds, reaching his home through a dank sea mist. Beami hadn't yet taken much, not that he knew precisely what had gone – just a sense of something missing from the house. The bedroom first, where he gathered a pair of her breeches, and a long skirt she hadn't worn since the ice had taken a firm grip. He then proceeded downstairs, still drunk with frustration, into her workroom. Oddly, he couldn't remember the last time he had actually been there. This had always been her space. Papers lined the walls, drenched in esoteric scribblings and sketches. Charts of territories that were, on closer inspection, layers of the known world in other dimensions. Detailed anatomical diagrams of a rumel body. Equations with symbols he could barely identify let alone understand Just get some of her shit and go.

There was a relic standing nearby, some cone-like piece of equipment with wires leaking from the top end. At first he touched it with reverence, as if it was some cherished and holy item… or as if it might explode in his hands. But it didn't, it simply remained cold and inert, and so he picked it up and left.

*

'Good. Very good.' Sycoraxe turned the item this way and that, beforpitting on the ground to indicate her distaste.

He observed her, half amused, half curious. She reeked of strange incense.

'I may need two or three hours to prepare for the operation,' she said. 'I would meanwhile prefer it if you didn't watch.'

'You want me to go, I'll go.'

'You can stay if you wish. Your mind is exceedingly vexed tonight. You might do something rash that could jeopardize your followers, or your own life.'

You hag! I'm more than capable of looking after myself. 'Your concern for my well-being brings a tear to my eye.'

*

He had fallen asleep, but remembered weeping before he had drifteff. Through bleary eyes he watched Sycoraxe close the door behiner, a macabre smile on her lips, flecks of blood splashed on her cheeks.

'I have finished my preparations,' she announced. 'Three hours it has taken me. Three hours! And during that time, my books and theories have proven correct.'

'What d'you mean?' he eyed her with caution. Faintly, he heard a growl coming from somewhere. In triplicate? It was too dark to fathom much of what was going on.

'Come, let me show you what has been created.'

It took an effort to pick himself off the chair and follow her upstairs. He felt he was still involved in some weird nightmare as she pushed open the door to her workspace.

Smoke burst out, and some smell he couldn't place, then a strong musk followed a deeply animal aroma. The rumbles grew intense, then he saw the eyes first, three pairs of them. Dirty yellow, they were focused right on him. A momentary fear paralysed any movement.

'What… the fuck… is this?'

'Cerberus, that's what it is. Three heads denoting the past, present and future. You look concerned.'

Too right I am. The creature stood slightly taller than himself, with a shiny fur coat and jaws that looked capable of shattering stone. There was something almost human about each head, and when he squinted, he could make out anthropoid features shifting beneath the flesh of the skull as if trying painfully to push free. The three necks were pulled taut, tendons flaring with a deep aggression. They acted independently of one another, as if three creatures were inhabiting a single entity, then suddenly they would become as one, something completely at accord with its own evil.

'What does it… do?' A vague question, and one more concerned with his own safety than its true purpose.

'It knows her scent. It knows yours, too. It will hunt her through the streets of this city and fetch her back. When it does so, it will consume her.'

'As in… eat?'

'There are souls trapped within it. When it takes hers, it will join them, and thus any traces of her influence on your mind will be erased. Her soul will go to the hell realm, or so I believe.'

Cerberus lumbered up to him, each of its three heads shifting independently. Muscles rippled beneath its fur, strongly noticeable even in this dreary light. Malum could smell the creature's rank breath and pondered at the cause of that. A head came looming down towards him, till it was almost up against his face, baring its canine jaws. But Malum stood firm, not wanting to give ground despite the threat, almost wanting to growl back. The other two heads began to sniff at him, analysing his scent as if to confirm something they already knew.

'I'm not scared of you,' Malum breathed. He narrowed his eyes, and could sense that the old crone was eager with anticipation. 'How does it know who to kill? Will it go around ripping to pieces every person it encounters in the streets?'

'No more than you would do.'

'I select my targets,' he snapped, returning his gaze to Cerberus. 'I'm no random killing machine.'

'Hmm. Well, in answer to your question, it already knows her scent.'

'Then send it off, and let's get this business over with.'

Sycoraxe hobbled up to the creature and breathed something into Cerberus's nearest ear. She then led it downstairs and Malum followed, watching it descend with its awkward gait.

The mass of black paused in the street as snow spiralled about it. Both moons glowed diffusely beneath a thin layer of cloud hanging low in the west, but above the city itself there hovered the remnants of a sudden blizzard. Cressets and oil lamps glowed from inside neighbouring houses. Cerberus was kicking plumes of snow around, curious and disturbingly ludic, then with a word from Sycoraxe's mouth it ceased, and came to attention.

She uttered another order, and the gargantuan beast lumbered off into the night.

*

'Are you happy now?'

'Yes, of course I am,' Beami replied. 'Relieved too, and happier once I collect the rest of my things. I suspect I'll miss him for a while.'

'Really?'

'It's from habit more than anything else, I guess. Any new routine makes me feel unsettled. I know instinctively I've made the right decision; it doesn't stop me from feeling like a shit.'

Lupus seemed to half expect some thanks from her, and tried to probe her mind further. 'Do you reckon that my staying here, you know, in Villiren, helped things along?'

'I'd taken other lovers after you,' Beami interrupted, and the sudden disappointment in his eyes forced her to continue quickly. Men and their egos… 'They just helped me through when I needed a little help. When I wanted to feel something, before I met him. This isn't only about you. It never was – much as I adore you. It is about getting away from… him. I suppose I could have gone and stayed with Zizi or someone, but I wanted to make a clean break.'

'I'm fine with that, really,' Lupus replied.

He had helped move her into a safe apartment half a mile from the Ancient Quarter, near one of the major stairwells that led down to the escape tunnels, ever concerned for her safety during any forthcoming fighting. It was a plain room, with unattractive furniture, but at least it was her own. He had asked her if she wanted to invite some of her friends from the Symbolist, in fact was hoping to meet them himself, but she declined, preferring something altogether calmer tonight. So while she unpacked he purchased coloured lanterns and cheap food and made a fire. He rustled up a traditional slave dish from the ore-mining days, and they were able to make a night of things. She drank beer from the bottle faster than he could, like they used to.

Later, after several quick alcohol-tinged kisses, they lay on the bed feeling quite separated from everyday life, listening to the sounds of the city nearby, louder than her old home, more sporadic, more unsettling. She didn't like living near two bordellos situated on the south side of the street. He couldn't resist some cheap jokes, and within the minute her hands were moving down towards his breeches.

*

Later, she joined Lupus in peering out of the window. It overlookene of the rare crooked streets that curved away from the Ancient Quarter. The original gothic architectures had been preserved anere well lit by torches and storm lanterns. Two teenagers wearinarish masks shuffled by drunkenly, their arms around each other, anhey walked right past the man sheltering in a doorway without givinim a second glance. Their raucous laughter could be heard echoinrom a nearby alleyway.

Suddenly something lumbered briefly across the periphery of his vision.

Beami must have noticed his reaction because she said, 'What's wrong?'

He glanced instinctively over to his compound bow resting in the corner, then to the quiverful of arrows slung from her bedpost.

'There's something out there,' he said, trying to see where it had gone. 'There it is again, something black and bulky, a sharp contrast against the snow.'

'It's probably nothing, I wouldn't worry.'

There was a scream, followed by 'Oh no… no please shit no-'

'The homeless man's gone.'

There was a noise she couldn't place, like a dog growling.

'Would Malum have come after us?' he asked nervously.

'Possibly.'

'Look down there.' Lupus pointed to where the snow was stained by flecks of blood.

'Maybe this area is rougher than we thought,' Beami said uneasily.

He moved to the bed, slung the quiver over his shoulder, picked up his bow, then checked there was still a backup knife in his boot. He handed his short-sword to Beami. Wordlessly she accepted it and nodded, before turning to the corner, to her leather satchel full of relics.

There was an immense thud.

'The door of the building,' Beami gasped.

'Whatever it is, it's trying to get in,' Lupus confirmed. 'Shit.'

The door was struck again, and she heard it give way.

Beami pulled out a set of Logi chains from her satchel, and began to swirl the ultra-light metal artefact around until it began to emit light, and soon she was carving out shapes that separated from nothingness, bordered with a bright lilac light at first, but then becoming more solid.

A lumbering noise approaching up the stairs.

Lupus nocked an arrow and aimed it at the doorway, stepping instinctively in front of Beami.

Oh, please. Men!

Something threw its full weight against the door, making the wood shudder, and immediately it tried again, sending a thick splinter to cough back and rattle around their feet. Through the gap exposed, something with fur could be seen moving.

Lupus loosed an arrow.

It screamed – no, howled. He nocked another, fired, nocked again, fired and eventually whatever it was moved away, leaving a deep silence.

Then the door burst completely as the creature came exploding through it, and three grotesque heads were biting at everything, saliva slopping to the floor in pools. Blood seeped from the arrow wounds, but they didn't seem to impede the thing's movements.

'Get out of the way,' Beami ordered, but Lupus ignored her.

He drew his blade and assumed a fighting stance, crouching and ready, relaxing back his vision to concentrate on all three heads, and when two of them attacked simultaneously he sliced his weapon horizontally, cutting one in the cheek, then ducked beneath the other set of jaws and punched one of the creature's throats. It reeled back, winded.

Using the Logi, Beami whipped and cracked three bright liquid-lines out to one side of Lupus, where they slapped into the monster repeatedly, leaving a staggered row of burning light-scars in its hide.

The floorboards almost buckled as it collapsed on them, dust motes drifting around it. There was now an overwhelming stillness.

'I think I'm going to lose my deposit on this place,' Beami said eventually.

Lupus stared breathlessly at his lover, at the thin metal rods in each of her hands, and the two trailing chains that had now lost their light. 'What the hell did you do to it?'

'These things shoot concentrated energy, distilled elements – a bit like lightning. I just stunned the brute, that's all.'

'Couldn't you put enough whatever energy in it to kill the damn thing?'

'No, it came after us specifically, so I wanted to get a better look at it. You can slash its throats afterwards if you want. Anyway, do it outside. I've only just got everything unpacked here and I'm pissed off that I already need to clean up.'

Together they extended the heap of fallen body out till it nearly covered the length of the room. The light-line wounds were still glowing, between the parted fur, and there was a stench of burnt flesh as if it had been branded with a red-hot iron. This was clearly some form of dog, although Beami observed that no cultist had produced this. It was too perfect a specimen – cultists could only splice, creating awkward and macabre hybrids. She felt sorry for it, realizing it wasn't its fault that it had been sent here to hunt them down. The thing began to regain consciousness slowly, and Lupus was forced to kill it.

With all three of its throats slit, it bled slowly to death.

*

And in a distant, unremarkable house, far from the scene of the carnage, an old woman sat staring at her runes, screeching a torrent of abuse against the beast's destroyers.

'Fat lot of good your magic is, if the damn thing's dead,' Malum complained.

'She is evil, with her relics!'

'I suppose I'll get the lads to hunt her down after all, if there's no quicker option.'

'How will you know where to find her? Magic is the best-'

'You've tried and failed, so leave this to my lot.'

'You didn't see what I saw, through its eyes!'

'And what, dare I ask, did you see?' As if it could possibly be anything either natural or sane.

'Another man. A soldier. You have seen him, maybe? One of the Night Guard.'

He stormed out of the room. Fuck this, it was bad enough being abandoned by your wife, but to find she was running around with another man… He had never felt so humiliated. They both had to die, immediately.

He grabbed the relic he'd given to the witch, determined to sell all Beami's crap in the market tomorrow.

'He looks like a wolf!' the witch wailed after him, as he strode out into the cold. Her words followed him down the street, either as an echo, or in his head, he couldn't tell which.

But on his way back, he did something unexpected. With the relic – that extension of Beami – in his hands, he meandered along the lanes where he had once gone walking with her. He headed past the boarded-up stores where he had bought her presents, past bars and bistros where they had shared intimate conversations. Whenever one of his gang members approached, he ignored them, keeping his head down and his hands in his pockets, and tried to identify the moment where he had let things reach the point of no return.

Most of all he was bothered at why he had become so concerned over someone else. How was it that he, a leader of men, a half-vampyr, who could get anything he wanted, now found himself with his wife walking out of his life, and with only emptiness in her place?

Tonight he was a hollow man.