Колин Глисон - As Shadows Fade

Max released her, and the pearly pigeon settled in the low branch of a tree, unable to get enough height with her injured wing to fly over the fence.

As she searched the enclosure, Victoria heard the others separate, some riding in her wake, the others starting in the opposite direction to circle around and meet her. Once she reached the west side of the fence, Victoria saw a small mausoleum near the north side, buried in the thick thrust of shadows.

The hair lifted at the back of her neck-not the same chill that portended the presence of a vampire, but a different, uncomfortable feeling. At the same moment, she came upon a small gate, barely a man’s width if he should move sideways, between two of the stone columns.

She was off her horse as Sebastian thundered up, and he swung himself off to land light-footed on the ground next to her.

One brief glance told them the gate would need to be forced open, or the wall must be scaled. The iron bars were topped with spikes much sharper than necessary for mere decoration; they looked wicked enough to slice through flesh and even bone, given enough force. Forcing the gate would be the most prudent option.

Victoria and Sebastian examined the gate more closely as Max and the other two Venators rode up, having circled the rest of the graveyard.

“No other entrance,” Max said. “It’ll have to be here. Any undead?” Of course, he could no longer sense the presence of a vampire, unlike the rest of them.

“No,” Victoria replied, stepping away from the gate to look around. Her attention focused on their target: the low, squat building cloaked in shadows only fifty yards away. “But something. Something…” Her voice trailed off, and she paused as she drew in a breath.

No.

She sniffed again, and her stomach pinched. An unmistakable scent of malignance and death simmered under that of moist peat and horse sweat.

Victoria looked up and met Max’s eyes, then looked at Brim. The tall, ebony-skinned man who wore his vis bulla through the corner of an eyebrow had lifted his head as if to scent something on the air as well. He nodded and looked at her, his dark eyes black pits.

Demons.

Not every Venator could sense the presence of fallen angels, or demons, but Victoria and Brim were both capable of recognizing the malevolent scent that lurked beneath everything else.

They would need swords along with stakes, then, for demons had to be beheaded in order to be completely destroyed. Being prepared for any eventuality, the Venators had armed themselves not only with stakes, but also with firearms and swords, which hung from the horses’ saddles.

At that moment, a low screech tore Victoria’s attention to Sebastian and Michalas, who’d used their Venator strength to work an iron hinge loose from its hasp embedded in the masonry. As they pushed, the long-abandoned gate creaked and moaned as they worked to free it. When Brim, the bulkiest of them all, added his muscle, the gate gave another long, low moan as it bent nearly double. Still attached by a lower hinge and by its heavy metal bolt on the opposite side, the gate had now been rendered impotent and scalable.

After retrieving the sword from her saddle and buckling it around her waist, Victoria scrambled over first, using Sebastian’s offered hand for stability. As she slid down to the other side, she eyed the mausoleum, watching for any sign of movement.

All was quiet except for the faint shuffles of the others as they joined her inside the cemetery wall.

Victoria stepped toward the building, and as she drew closer, more of its details became apparent. The structure stood no taller than the midpoint of a single story, with a low peaked roof and plain, blank sides. Perhaps half the size of a carriage house, the mausoleum was situated with the stand of trees curling around and behind it.

Beneath her feet, the ground was soft and damp, littered with stones and larger rocks, embedded brick boundaries outlining family plots, and tufts of grass poking out. As she drew closer to the building, the faint scent of demons grew more discernible, though not strong enough to clog her nostrils. Something stirred in the air. Not a breeze but… something.

Then she saw it. Above the low pitched roof of the mausoleum, not far above her head: a faint swirl of… fog? Smoke?

No, the threads were too dark for fog. Or smoke.

Her throat tightened, and she swallowed hard.

Thin clouds of black whispered in and out of the glowering trees, tangling like tendrils of hair above the mausoleum. Circling.

Victoria stopped and felt someone behind her. She turned. It was Sebastian, who was looking up over the mausoleum just as she had. Her heart thudding, she grasped his arm as she waited for the others to draw near.

When they came closer, Victoria sought Max’s gaze in the meandering light. His face held the same arrested expression as hers. “What is it?” she asked, looking at him, but speaking to them all.

Max shook his head, his lips pinched. Sebastian moved closer to her, murmuring, “Whatever it is, it’s not vampire.”

Victoria looked at Brim, whose face was wary. With terse words, she sent him and Michalas around the mausoleum in one direction, and she, Max, and Sebastian went the other way in search of an entrance.

They found it, well cloaked by two overgrown cedars. The door was set half below ground level, accessed by four rough, narrow steps.

Victoria glanced up at the swirling black mass above them. It seemed nebulous, for it hadn’t changed, nor did it seem threatening. But it moved and writhed, barely visible in the shadows of the trees, hovering like an eerie warning over the roof, beneath and among the tree branches.

She shivered. She’d met many demonic and undead threats in her two years as a Venator, but this was particularly disturbing-partly because it was unknown, but also because it was apparent that whatever it was, it had something to do with Wayren.

A shadow appeared close by and had Victoria reaching for her sword, but it was only Brim and Michalas, completing their circuit of the mausoleum.

She noticed that Brim, too, had a hand on the sword at his belt.

Everything was strangely quiet. Tense, and quiet.

Victoria lifted her foot to take the first step down toward the mausoleum door, but Sebastian curled his fingers around her arm and slipped in front of her. She allowed him to without annoyance, for she knew he made the gesture not because she was a woman, but because he loved her. Victoria followed him.

The small alcove at the bottom of the stairs was only large enough for one person to stand, and so of necessity, she remained on the bottom stair, her head level with his as he looked at the door. She watched as his damaged hand, the left one, felt along the solid wood bound by metal, and then heard the soft clunk as he found the iron latch. Victoria felt a shift behind her and realized Max was standing on the step above, towering over them both from his vantage point.

More dull clanks, and a soft creak, and then Sebastian had the latch loosened. The door opened without the reluctant groans of the iron hasp of the gate, indicating that this latch had been used more frequently.

Sebastian glanced up at her as if to ensure everyone was ready, and then returned his attention to the door, pushing gently against it with a widespread hand.

The heavy, metal-bound planks moved reluctantly, and it was so quiet that the faint scrape of wood over the gritty stone floor was audible. Shadows moved above Victoria, changing the faint illumination, and she assumed it was because Brim and Michalas had drawn closer as well.

Then, she realized with sudden horror that the shifting darkness wasn’t from the others gathering closer. She looked up, eyes wide, as the air began to move. She felt it against her cheek, a rising breeze.