Dark City (The Order of Shadows Book 1) Read Online Free
Author: Kit Hallows
helped her into the back, where she rested on a pile of thick black bags, oblivious to their intended purpose.
I gently closed the door and lay back on the hood of the car while I waited for Dauple to finish up.
The moon hung red and full, its sickly light shining off the windows as a cool breeze stirred the weeds in the gardens. I closed my eyes and did my best to put the evening's events from my mind. I was glad Tudor had been dealt with, but frustrated too. I was certain he'd had information on Elsbeth Wyght. Tudor had been exactly the kind of creature that evil piece of shit would associate with. Now anything he might have told me would be taken to his grave and I was back to square one.
When Dauple finally came out of the house, I helped him stow the bodies in the hearse and climbed into the passenger seat.
The drive to the hospital was mercifully quiet, aside from the excitable tap of Dauple's finger on the steering wheel. It was that odd time of year when the last fiery throes of summer were tempered by the imminent arrival of fall. A time of shadows and winds that seemed to hail from somewhere else entirely.
Dauple pulled into the bay outside the emergency room. A tired-looking security guard knocked on his window. I climbed out and gave him the look. A you're wishing you were somewhere else and your gonna forget you ever saw me look. It took a few seconds to sink in. Most human minds are shockingly easy to manipulate. I suppose it's because we're all so desperate to live in blissful unawareness, especially when it comes to the nightmares that shift and stalk around us. Given the choice, we'll cling to business as usual, whatever the hell that is.
I unlocked the passenger door and helped the girl out. She looked less haggard now but the black bags under her eyes were still prominent. As were the welts and scratches where she'd attacked the imaginary itch that plagued her wrists.
The hospital receptionist's attractive brown eyes flitted from me to the girl, then back to me with a flicker of disgust. Clearly she thought I was responsible for the girl's state and as I glanced into the large mirror behind her, I saw why.
I looked like shit, my dark clothes ragged and frayed, spatters of blood on my sweater. I pulled my trench coat around me and secured two of the buttons, but it was too late. My throat and face were a map of purple bruises and I looked far older than my thirty something years. I smoothed my long dark hair back but the pomade just looked like filthy grease beneath all that overhead lighting.
"What happened to her?" the receptionist asked. The nurse beside her glanced at me, his brow furrowing. He walked towards another security guard; this one seemed more attentive than the one posted outside.
"Someone spiked her drink," I said. I hoped it would stop the conversation, but knew it wouldn't. "You need to get her help."
"I need to get some details-"
I picked up a pen from the clipboard on the top of the desk. The hospital was brimming with magic, most of it weak, but with the sheer volume of people inside, quantity over quality.
I charged the pen with a simple spell and passed it to the receptionist. Her pupils dilated, her mouth softened and she gazed up at me, awaiting instructions. "Her drink was spiked," I repeated. "She needs urgent attention. You don't need any more details."
The receptionist nodded and called for the nurse. He came over and took the girl's shaking hand. I waited until he led her down the corridor, then I turned on my heels so fast my shoes squeaked on the polished floor. I had to get away from the harsh buzzing lights and the swell of nausea, anguish and pain surging along the corridors.
Dauple was gone by the time I emerged. That suited me. I didn't want the crazy bastard knowing where I was going.
I hailed a cab and slumped in the back. The city passed by in a blur of dark towers and garish lights, and above everything that red swollen moon casting its devilish
I gently closed the door and lay back on the hood of the car while I waited for Dauple to finish up.
The moon hung red and full, its sickly light shining off the windows as a cool breeze stirred the weeds in the gardens. I closed my eyes and did my best to put the evening's events from my mind. I was glad Tudor had been dealt with, but frustrated too. I was certain he'd had information on Elsbeth Wyght. Tudor had been exactly the kind of creature that evil piece of shit would associate with. Now anything he might have told me would be taken to his grave and I was back to square one.
When Dauple finally came out of the house, I helped him stow the bodies in the hearse and climbed into the passenger seat.
The drive to the hospital was mercifully quiet, aside from the excitable tap of Dauple's finger on the steering wheel. It was that odd time of year when the last fiery throes of summer were tempered by the imminent arrival of fall. A time of shadows and winds that seemed to hail from somewhere else entirely.
Dauple pulled into the bay outside the emergency room. A tired-looking security guard knocked on his window. I climbed out and gave him the look. A you're wishing you were somewhere else and your gonna forget you ever saw me look. It took a few seconds to sink in. Most human minds are shockingly easy to manipulate. I suppose it's because we're all so desperate to live in blissful unawareness, especially when it comes to the nightmares that shift and stalk around us. Given the choice, we'll cling to business as usual, whatever the hell that is.
I unlocked the passenger door and helped the girl out. She looked less haggard now but the black bags under her eyes were still prominent. As were the welts and scratches where she'd attacked the imaginary itch that plagued her wrists.
The hospital receptionist's attractive brown eyes flitted from me to the girl, then back to me with a flicker of disgust. Clearly she thought I was responsible for the girl's state and as I glanced into the large mirror behind her, I saw why.
I looked like shit, my dark clothes ragged and frayed, spatters of blood on my sweater. I pulled my trench coat around me and secured two of the buttons, but it was too late. My throat and face were a map of purple bruises and I looked far older than my thirty something years. I smoothed my long dark hair back but the pomade just looked like filthy grease beneath all that overhead lighting.
"What happened to her?" the receptionist asked. The nurse beside her glanced at me, his brow furrowing. He walked towards another security guard; this one seemed more attentive than the one posted outside.
"Someone spiked her drink," I said. I hoped it would stop the conversation, but knew it wouldn't. "You need to get her help."
"I need to get some details-"
I picked up a pen from the clipboard on the top of the desk. The hospital was brimming with magic, most of it weak, but with the sheer volume of people inside, quantity over quality.
I charged the pen with a simple spell and passed it to the receptionist. Her pupils dilated, her mouth softened and she gazed up at me, awaiting instructions. "Her drink was spiked," I repeated. "She needs urgent attention. You don't need any more details."
The receptionist nodded and called for the nurse. He came over and took the girl's shaking hand. I waited until he led her down the corridor, then I turned on my heels so fast my shoes squeaked on the polished floor. I had to get away from the harsh buzzing lights and the swell of nausea, anguish and pain surging along the corridors.
Dauple was gone by the time I emerged. That suited me. I didn't want the crazy bastard knowing where I was going.
I hailed a cab and slumped in the back. The city passed by in a blur of dark towers and garish lights, and above everything that red swollen moon casting its devilish
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