figure chasing down the bottom of the street, so I started running too. The gun in the back of my jeans, I sprinted with everything I had. I had no weight, my legs were air and my arms scissors. I barely breathed as I shifted into a mode of clear purpose.
I soon caught up and grabbed the back of her jeans to hinder her progress. Seraph fell with a jolt, falling flat on her back on the cobbled, empty lane. I knelt down and saw her mad with fury.
‘My girl, you don’t know what they are capable of. This is why we kept things from you.’
‘I’m not some little girl Camille, I just want the truth.’
There was no more time for discussion because suddenly we weren’t alone on the street. Emissaries emerged from Swinegate. Seraph wanted to leap into action but I swung my weapon out from behind me and tucked it into the front of my jeans instead.
‘Stay here, ’ I whispered.
Seraph nodded in understanding and remained on the ground while I wandered in the direction of the two emissaries. I assessed what I was up against and saw they were just primers, low-level stock Officium didn’t mind dispensing with. Easy. These automatons were pumped with soul-draining, filthy chemicals, devoid of the life force that flowed through my body and rendered me unstoppable.
Seraph
I wanted the bastards for myself but the ever-curious part of me wanted to see this woman at work. Camille reached the pair and seemed to hold court with them for a few seconds, before the female of the duo lunged forward. Camille responded by grabbing the woman’s arm swiftly and knocking her to the ground with a swift jab to the throat.
Camille stepped back a few paces from the altercation and the man started to move toward her with a menacing grin spread across his face. She readied herself in a pose belonging to some sort of martial art; her feet one behind the other, her knees bent and her legs distributing her weight, testing her muscles on tiptoe. As the male emissary neared Camille, she screeched and jumped forward. In a matter of seconds, she performed an inch-perfect roundhouse kick on the unsuspecting son-of-a-bitch and he fell next to his partner. Without sound, Camille came back to earth and drew breath.
She walked back to me with a confident gait I now recognized was due to her physical discipline. She took a small tubular device from her pocket and brought it to her lips, whispering hoarsely, ‘I have two shadows down on Stonegate that need to be dealt with immediately.’
Camille was pouring with sweat. A move she made look effortless was obviously exerting. She held a hand out for me to grab hold of and pulled me up.
‘No problem,’ she whispered with assurance, wiping her brow.
‘ Camille,’ I beckoned, squeezing one of her hands, ‘why? They track me but never confront me in New York.’
‘I have something to show you , chérie ,’ she replied, rubbing my shoulder in camaraderie. ‘Come.’
She led me further into the ramshackle centre of York, past what was once the High Street. I noticed many units in desolation and ruin. Everywhere looked shut. Word of the emissaries’ presence had spread. She led me through so many winding streets that I lost my bearings, forgetting my steps as I watched the worn cobbles disappear beneath my feet.
‘Some used to seek safety in the ancient dungeons or sewers but flooding became too frequent. Now whenever there are whispers of emissaries on the streets, people flock to old churches or chapels. Buildings of the sort do not seem to appeal to their kind. We gather in these kinds of places, seeking safety in numbers, perhaps keeping a sense of community alive.’
‘Oh.’ What else was there to say? I had no idea what point she was trying to make.
I saw the Gothic structure of the Minster up ahead but as we swept our way toward it, Camille tugged on my arm so sharply I was hauled into a smaller house of worship nearby. A simple-looking place not a patch on its nearby sister.
I soon caught up and grabbed the back of her jeans to hinder her progress. Seraph fell with a jolt, falling flat on her back on the cobbled, empty lane. I knelt down and saw her mad with fury.
‘My girl, you don’t know what they are capable of. This is why we kept things from you.’
‘I’m not some little girl Camille, I just want the truth.’
There was no more time for discussion because suddenly we weren’t alone on the street. Emissaries emerged from Swinegate. Seraph wanted to leap into action but I swung my weapon out from behind me and tucked it into the front of my jeans instead.
‘Stay here, ’ I whispered.
Seraph nodded in understanding and remained on the ground while I wandered in the direction of the two emissaries. I assessed what I was up against and saw they were just primers, low-level stock Officium didn’t mind dispensing with. Easy. These automatons were pumped with soul-draining, filthy chemicals, devoid of the life force that flowed through my body and rendered me unstoppable.
Seraph
I wanted the bastards for myself but the ever-curious part of me wanted to see this woman at work. Camille reached the pair and seemed to hold court with them for a few seconds, before the female of the duo lunged forward. Camille responded by grabbing the woman’s arm swiftly and knocking her to the ground with a swift jab to the throat.
Camille stepped back a few paces from the altercation and the man started to move toward her with a menacing grin spread across his face. She readied herself in a pose belonging to some sort of martial art; her feet one behind the other, her knees bent and her legs distributing her weight, testing her muscles on tiptoe. As the male emissary neared Camille, she screeched and jumped forward. In a matter of seconds, she performed an inch-perfect roundhouse kick on the unsuspecting son-of-a-bitch and he fell next to his partner. Without sound, Camille came back to earth and drew breath.
She walked back to me with a confident gait I now recognized was due to her physical discipline. She took a small tubular device from her pocket and brought it to her lips, whispering hoarsely, ‘I have two shadows down on Stonegate that need to be dealt with immediately.’
Camille was pouring with sweat. A move she made look effortless was obviously exerting. She held a hand out for me to grab hold of and pulled me up.
‘No problem,’ she whispered with assurance, wiping her brow.
‘ Camille,’ I beckoned, squeezing one of her hands, ‘why? They track me but never confront me in New York.’
‘I have something to show you , chérie ,’ she replied, rubbing my shoulder in camaraderie. ‘Come.’
She led me further into the ramshackle centre of York, past what was once the High Street. I noticed many units in desolation and ruin. Everywhere looked shut. Word of the emissaries’ presence had spread. She led me through so many winding streets that I lost my bearings, forgetting my steps as I watched the worn cobbles disappear beneath my feet.
‘Some used to seek safety in the ancient dungeons or sewers but flooding became too frequent. Now whenever there are whispers of emissaries on the streets, people flock to old churches or chapels. Buildings of the sort do not seem to appeal to their kind. We gather in these kinds of places, seeking safety in numbers, perhaps keeping a sense of community alive.’
‘Oh.’ What else was there to say? I had no idea what point she was trying to make.
I saw the Gothic structure of the Minster up ahead but as we swept our way toward it, Camille tugged on my arm so sharply I was hauled into a smaller house of worship nearby. A simple-looking place not a patch on its nearby sister.
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