Henry blinked, uncertain what was happening. The creature seemed to be stuck between its two forms, alternating between monster features and human features. Relief flooded Henry’s body. It was too late for the dead men around them, but it wasn’t too late for Henry.
The jaw softened and shortened and finally Geoffrey’s face emerged. “Help,” the creature said, although the word sounded slightly garbled to Henry’s ears. There was no shine left in the eyes. They fixed on Henry, dull and flat.
Henry observed the carnage around him, feeling rattled and confused. Help him? He’d just slaughtered a dozen men.
And yet Henry felt a wave of compassion wash over him. He peeled himself away from the wall, deliberating.
Geoffrey dropped to his knees. Henry winced at the sound of bones cracking. Geoffrey’s clothes were in tatters and Henry could still see tufts of fur dotting his exposed skin. He seized and collapsed on his side.
Henry inched toward him. Nearby was a large rock that someone had thrown in vain during the height of the monster’s tirade. Geoffrey had no wife or children. Henry could stop this now. With one eye trained on the twitching creature, Henry retrieved the rock. He raised it over his head and brought it down on the creature’s head with as much force as he could muster. He wasn’t ashamed to say—when he told the story later—that he closed his eyes, unable to witness his own actions. The monster had been part of Geoffrey somehow and Henry had liked the man.
Except he wasn’t a man at all.
Geoffrey stopped moving and grew quiet. Henry waited a few minutes to see if the creature stirred again, pretending not to see the blood that pooled beneath the creature’s head. Henry was aware when his heartbeat slowed to normal. He looked back at the house and wondered what he would tell the owner. There would be delays. It couldn’t be helped. He hoped the house didn’t gain a reputation for being cursed. The owner might decide to abandon the work and Henry would be out of a job.
His gaze shifted to the body at his feet. At least the worst part was over now. He’d gotten to Geoffrey in time.
There would be no more monsters.
1
The view from Hampstead Heath was deceptive. Lights blazed in the distance. They signaled security. Safety.
Like I said—deceptive.
“Avoid the water,” I advised. “There might be a parasitic demon in it.”
Kami cast a glance at the pond. “If there isn’t a demon, there’s definitely some other kind of parasite I don’t want any part of. Can you believe people actually used to swim in that mud hole?”
Once upon a time Hampstead Heath was the largest park in Britannia City. That was before the Great Eruption when ten of the world’s supervolcanoes threw a party at the same time. They invited all the monsters they’d been hiding and triggered the Eternal Night because sunlight couldn’t penetrate the thick layer of volcanic ash in the atmosphere. Vampires eventually seized power and Hampstead Heath was overrun by creatures great and small. Residents avoided the area if they could help it. Whereas Hyde Park and Regent’s Park adapted to the changes, Hampstead Heath succumbed to it like the Titanic to an iceberg.
“Seems quiet here. What exactly are we looking for?” I asked.
“The complaint wasn’t very specific. That’s why I said to load up on weapons.” Kami inclined her head in my direction. “And you apparently chose to ignore the directive. I only see Babe.”
I sliced the air with my beloved axe. “I thought you just wanted an excuse to test out the new crossbow.”
Kamikaze Marwin loved weapons the way vampires loved blood. The stocky blonde relished the way they felt in her hand, their sound when they made contact with their intended target, and the damage they could inflict. I discovered this fact about her very early in our friendship when we were two frightened teenaged orphans fighting to survive in the tunnels of Britannia City. If there was a discarded piece of metal or a scrap of rubber, rest assured Kami found a way to weaponize it. Now she acted as the banner’s resident expert. If there was a new weapon making the rounds, she’d hunt it down and master it before the rest of the knights managed to learn its name.
She patted the strap of the new crossbow. “That may have been an added incentive.”
I peered at the expanse of darkness. “If they’d invest in more lights in the park, they might reduce the number of threats.”
“Or they could try a ward.”
“That’s too tricky. They’d end up keeping everybody out.”
Kami shrugged. “Seems like that’s the end result anyway.”
A flash of movement close to the ground caught my eye. “On your left.”
“Saw it.” Kami’s voice dropped to a whisper. “What are you thinking?”
“Not sure. Too small to be anything significant.”
She cast me a sidelong glance. “Can you win it over?”
I reached out with my mind and tried to latch on to the nearest creature.
“Anything?” Kami prompted.
“Nothing noteworthy. Pretty sure it’s a rat.” And you couldn’t swing a cat in this city without hitting a rat the size of a feral hog. Vampires and rats were the clear winners of the Eternal Night.
“Let’s talk to the client,” Kami suggested. “Maybe he can give us more details.”
Gerald Latham lived nearby, hence his cry for help. According to Gerald, he’d requested help from his landlord, but the plea was summarily dismissed. Mitchell Dansker owned half the buildings between Hampstead Heath and Hampstead Village, as well as a smattering of other buildings gifted to the vampire by House Lewis as a show of gratitude for helping the royal vampire family secure the city during the Battle of Britannia. It seemed that Dansker liked owning properties more than he liked caring for those who resided in them. Thanks to a community fund request, Gerald scraped together enough money to pay our fee. Given the lengths he went to, I wanted to take his complaint seriously, but I was beginning to wonder whether Dansker was right to ignore the request. Just because the vampire had a reputation for callousness didn’t mean his decision was a bad one. Even a stopped clock was right twice a day.
The avenue of houses between the Heath and the Village were once grand historic homes worth millions of pounds when the city was still known as London. Gerald Latham lived in a ground-floor flat of one such house—a detached Edwardian—and the rest of the 7500-square-foot house was occupied by two other families. It was the kind of house my mother would’ve stopped to admire and then regaled me with facts about its construction and likely inhabitants prior to the Eternal Night.
Looking at the red brick facade, I felt a pang of loss. My mother had been a bright spark whose light still managed to influence my daily life.
Kami rang the buzzer for Gerald’s flat. Minutes stretched as we awaited a response. Finally the front door opened and a craggy face appeared.
“I didn’t hire you to fight the critters here. You’re supposed to be out there.” He jerked his chin toward the park.
Kami simply smiled. “Gerald Latham, I presume?”