Chapter 10
Invisible to the eyes of mere humans, the Shadow Hunter moved swiftly through the crowd of New Yorkers and night-lifers.
The neon signs overhead were making him extremely dizzy, and the crowd brought back some leftover claustrophobia from his childhood. But he had little choice. If he stayed in the crowd, the mages of the Silent Circle would think twice before attacking him.
As he rounded a corner, the night sounds of Manhattan died away. It became abruptly quiet, and the Hunter called off his invisibility spell.
He was in a deserted alleyway, and there was no sound except for a crow's cawing. A bedraggled junkie lay in a messy heap in a dank corner. The smell was intorelable.
The Hunter knelt beside the junkie, whose bearded and pock-marked face was partially hidden in shadow.
"Let me pass," whispered the Shadow Hunter.
The homeless man turned to look at him with sunken eyes. He uttered feebly, "What's the code?"
"None shall speak within the Solem Barrier," replied the Hunter.
The man's lifeless eyes seemed to roll upwards into their sockets, and the whites stood out prominently in the darkness. Then the man let out a painful, resigning yell, and from the concrete floor rose a cylindrical structure the Hunter recognised as a Lock Stone.
Like the floor, the Lock Stone was concrete. It looked extremely plain, especially in the dark, where the exotic black markings could barely be seen. A vertical slit sat on the flat concrete face.
The Shadow Hunter slipped Cerberes through the slit, as if the Lock Stone were a giant sheath. As the hilt touched the topface, the markings lit up in a brilliant blue, illuminating the alley.
The junkie was still writhing against the brick, graffitied wall as it cracked resoundingly. The crack worked its way up the wall, slowly at first, then at breakneck speed.
Suddenly, the building that formed the right wall of the alleyway imploded. The Shadow Hunter brought his hand up to shield his eyes from the sudden burst of light. When he got used to it, he stepped towards it, through the crumbling hole.
As soon as he disappeared through the debris, the wall sealed itself back up.
There was a chair, and an old coffee table, and a blinding lamp. Behind the table sat a hunching, hooded figure.
As the Hunter removed his own hood, the figure did the same, revealing the wrinkled face of a haggard old lady. She smiled, flashing approximately six yellowed teeth.
"Cabal Strider..." sneered the woman. The Hunter could hardly take his eyes off hers: one was white and dead, while the other was green and alive with a fire he could not quite place.
He sat on the chair facing her. "Tell me, Madam Reika." He placed the files he had stolen from the High Order's HQ on the coffee table.
Without moving any other part of her body besides her mouth, Madam Reika said, "Wormwood...the accursed town."
The Hunter nodded uncertainly. "What about it?"
"The town plagued by its demonic past. The town plagued with the sin of its founders. The town plagued by a thousand days of total darkness..."
Reika rose, very slowly. Her voice grew eerily soft as she said:
"There is a village by yonder woods,
where once the abyssal demoniacs stood.
Water and wine they lacked not;
only their hearts had they forgot.
And so a curse by their fathers' mistakes:
a curse to either fulfill or break;
a curse from hell's blackened hands;
a curse that up till now still stands."
The Hunter found it hard to breathe. He stood, took the files and turned to leave, uttering his thanks to the hag.
But a skeletal hand grabbed his wrist, preventing him from leaving.
And before he knew it, Madam Reika's face was beside his. She was short, and she stood on a chair to reach him. As she spoke, the Hunter felt his blood freeze.
She said, "Hellfire wants to come back..."
And she cackled.
