Chapter 2
A Shadow of Nightmares
His progress through the denser areas of Hyde Park was both directionless and painful, propelled as he was between the roughly barked trees, lurching from one to another as he tripped his way through the undergrowth with only the barest hint of moonlight to guide his way. The Shadow that was his pursuer, however, seemed to touch not a one, but to rapidly glide between all obstacles, intent upon its elusive prey, eyes aglow in the gloomy damp darkness.
The evening had been proceeding according to Sleet’s somewhat haphazard plan. He had been tracking this particular beast for some weeks, following reports of mysterious disappearances in the locale. Entire nights he had spent secluded amongst the bushes, waiting pensively like some kind of pervert.
Tonight, though, he had received his reward, in the guise of this single creature that had descended from on high to feast upon the unfortunates to whom the park offered a place to bed down for the night and the various miscreants for whom it served as a nocturnal playground.
The Shadow had descended purposefully to land upon a pathway close behind a young male goth who had been making his way somewhat haltingly along it. The boy had detected the soft thud as the monster’s talonned feet touched down upon the gravel and had spun round to face what he surely could only have dreamt up in his darkest nightmares.
Yes, Sleet had thought, they are something out of a nightmare. The nightmare that I am living through.
From his place amongst the dense shrubbery he had watched as the youth, too petrified to flee, fell back upon the pathway, his limbs scurrying into the gravel in a desperate attempt to propel himself away from the hellish creature that loomed menacingly over him. But Sleet had been able to tell that the Shadow’s spell was already cast and that the boy was transfixed, captured by the penetrating crimson depths of the beast’s deeply socketed eyes, caught as surely as if he were a tiny fly ensnared upon a spider’s web, every twist and turn only serving to further seal his doom.
Sleet had taken a moment to study the creature, convinced as he was that everything he could learn, every slightest nuance, would strengthen his position, committed as he was upon this crusade that he had launched single-handedly against them.
The Shadow was some seven feet in height, perhaps seven and a half, somewhat average from what he had so far seen of them. It stood upright upon its clawed feet, its bowed muscular thighs akimbo, balanced at the rear by a rudimentary tail that swished rhythmically from side to side. Its torso was impressively broad, its pectorals bunched up high on its chest. Powerful arms reached forward, claws that Sleet knew from experience were as sharp as needles, extended threateningly towards its helpless victim. Upon its broad back its wings hung flaccidly, totally out of proportion with the creature’s enormous dimensions. Its skin was a leathery grey which gleamed somewhat in the light of the moon. Its head was squat, centred as it was upon its wide shoulders, with very little neck to speak of.
And its face…..oh God. It was something he had not yet grown accustomed to and perhaps never would. Its visage was truly horrific, consisting as it did of a deeply square jaw that had the capability of lowering itself to somewhere halfway down the demon’s chest to reveal frightening rows of sharply pointed yellow teeth and a tongue that was human-pink and lay coiled within its gaping maw, occasionally slavering out, as if it had a life all its own, to reveal its pointed tip, dripping with its vile saliva.
Its nose was broad and flat with flaring nostrils and its eyes were sunk beneath heavy brows, capable, as he knew, of alternating between button black and a hypnotically piercing fiery red. To either side of its flat topped skull were not ears but small ‘ear-holes’. Upon its crown, and indeed, upon its whole body, was not a single hair.
Its overall appearance brought to mind an overgrown gargoyle that had clambered down from the eaves of a church roof.
And then the moment had arrived. From past experience he had discovered that, whilst the victim of a Shadow was tantalised under the creature’s gaze, the beasts’ concentration was centred momentarily upon its prey. For mere seconds they were potentially as vulnerable as the humans whose lives they were intent upon taking.
Sleet had risen quickly and quietly and skirted the low lying shrubs, making no noise as he skipped across the freshly mown grass, until he was at the rear of the creature and some thirty feet away.
What had happened next was still a blur in his consciousness. He remembered lowering his ski mask as he always did in an effort to protect himself should the Shadow’s deadly stare fall upon him. He recalled unsheathing the short dagger from its scabbard strapped at his side - a one time gift from his brother, its distinctive ivory hilt had rested coolly in his palm. And then he had pointed and switched on the ultraviolet torch which he knew at the very least would distract the creature and at most, had demonstrated a very serious effect upon the beasts’ metabolic structure.
Click!.................The bulb had exploded with a sound which, under normal circumstances, would not have been particularly loud, but, within the silence generated by the Shadow’s spell, had seemed to clap with a deafening report. The creature had spun around agilely to glower at him down the pathway, its eyes blazing, as if in anger at the disturbance that he had caused.
Aware that he had certainly caught the monster’s attention, Sleet had quickly considered his options (which included facing the beast in combat with his now rather insignificant feeling blade) and had come to an abrupt conclusion. He had turned and fled, sparing not a glance for the youth, who, released from the demon’s gaze, had regained his feet and set off hurriedly in the opposite direction.
As he had gained the tree-line the beast’s blood curdling screech had rung in his ears. Oh great, he’d thought, I’ve upset it.
And now here he was, careening headlong through the vegetation, hotly pursued by a gigantic life-sucking monster whose hunting territory he had purposefully entered. The analogy of an over-adventurous big game hunter on safari occurred to him, but he thought he would be grateful if it was only a lion that was gaining upon him second by second. At least he could climb into a tree to escape a lion; something that he knew would be pointless as a defence against this flying demon.
He attempted to increase his pace but succeeded only in tripping himself on a tree root which launched him head first out of the trees and sprawling down an embankment, his mouth scooping up dirt as he went and his chin, at one point, connecting jarringly with what was probably a small tree stump.
He tumbled repeatedly and came to rest with a shallow splash in what he realised must be a drainage gully of sorts. Ignoring his body’s screams for attention which he was receiving from numerous areas, not least of which his possibly dislocated jaw, he allowed primeval fear to overtake him and turned to pelt through the man-made stream as fast as he could, his breath now coming in ragged gasps as his lungs heaved.
In the gloom ahead of him was an even darker shape, arising from a point where the glint of moonlight upon the water’s surface ceased. A tunnel or some kind of culvert, perhaps small enough to shelter him from his deadly pursuer.
Sleet risked a glance over his shoulder and saw that the Shadow was wading through the water towards him, still distant but seeming to come towards him with an inexorable purpose that cloaked his heart with dread. He faced forwards once more as he stumbled amidst the uneven stone bed and fell to one already badly gashed knee which sent a spear of pain straight up his thigh and into his spine. He raised himself with some effort and once more struggled forward towards the gaping mouth of possible sanctuary.
The beast hollered out its wild vociferation which seemed to batter him physically through the thin night air, like waves pounding upon a beech. He felt an undeniable impulse to turn and face the demon once more, but even as he did so he continued to tread backwards in desperate hope of salvation.
The beast was much closer now, no more than twenty feet away, its eyes aglow like two red hot coals. Sleet tried not to be drawn into those fiery pools but he knew it was probably inevitable that he do so, his mask, and whatever protection it may have afforded him, lost somewhere between the initial confrontation and his damp arrival in the gully’s bed. He continued to tread slowly backwards, the water sloshing around his ankles. The Shadow strode towards him, its nose now held high as if scenting its prey.
Another step back, and then another. At this moment Sleet would have welcomed gladly any crack to the back of his head that would signal his arrival at the culvert’s entrance.
One more step, one more………….and then his back collided with the vertical metal bars of the grating which prevented anything other than water continuing along this course. Oh shit! His heart sank as he fumbled for the dagger, for what little use it could possibly be. It occurred to him that he could take his own life, but he was unsure how to make a clean job of it.
He looked up. His demon had arrived.
The Shadow bent forward to face him eye to eye, now mere inches away. Its jaw dropped away and its rows of pointed teeth sparkled horrifically in the moonlight, its tongue lolling lazily back and forth. Its breath was rank, not just rotten but somehow the scent of evil itself, and momentarily Sleet wondered if this alone would be enough to render him unconscious.
The beast’s penetrating crimson gaze bore into him and his mind was drawn into its fiery hypnotic whirlpools. Visions of they who had once been closest to him swam up to his mind’s eye.
His brother. His Mother. Moira.
Their faces swept past repeatedly, faster and faster. He reached out to arrest their increasing speed but his hands were no longer there. The faces quickly became blurred before condensing into a faintly glowing blue sphere that mesmerised him, the power emanating from it intoxicating. He was drawn steadily towards it. There was nothing he could do to stop………..stop………….stop.
Stop! He wrenched himself forcibly back into reality, bile rising from his gut, his head dizzy, his vision doubled. Two pairs of glowing red eyes wavered in the air before him. In his left hand he felt the haft of the dagger which he had somehow managed to retain a grasp upon. He clutched it tightly now and with the last vestige of strength left to him he lunged forward to bury the blade deeply into the creature’s sternum.
The Shadow screamed out in what could have been pain or anger or both and this time the reverberations of the monster’s ungodly voice physically rattled his head against the bars of the grating as it echoed down the tunnel beyond.
And then it was answered.
It was almost beyond his hearing and he was not sure whether he had actually heard it, or rather, felt it. But whatever it was it was behind him and getting closer rapidly.
And, as they raced past his ears on either side, Sleet realised exactly what they were. Bats, disturbed by the vibrations of the Shadow’s unearthly cry. Dozens of them, maybe hundreds, fled from their underground lair and proceeded to circle tightly in the air before him, their barely audible sonar pings now seeming to come from all directions at once.
The effect upon the creature before him was astounding. The Shadow instantly raised its clawed fingers to hold its head and it span about repeatedly, kicking water in all directions. It swayed first one way and then the other before falling to its knees in silent agony and then collapsing into the watercourse, rolling from side to side.
It had, Sleet quickly realised, been totally disoriented and rendered virtually immobile and, as a result, incredibly vulnerable.
In seconds he was upon it, pulling the blade from where he had sunk it into the chest of the brute, and then repeatedly stabbing the creature again and again. It screeched out its furore and cast him aside with what was probably a feeble swipe of its arm that sent Sleet sprawling into the vegetation at the side of the stream. He hardly felt the thorns that simultaneously pierced his skin but quickly wheeled around to confront the monster once more.
The bats swooped low over him before, seemingly as one, they dived back between the bars of the dark tunnel entrance. Within seconds they were gone. The Shadow, both dazed and injured, the fire now gone from its eyes, was back on its knees, breathing raggedly, a low snarl emanating from somewhere deep in the back of its throat.
Sleet stood, the dagger still gripped tightly in his palm, guessing that he was probably no match for the demon, even in its wounded state. He stepped forwards, whilst telling himself that he was mad to do so. The creature pushed itself to its feet, a flicker of orange in its eyes as it cast its glare upon him.
And then it turned its back upon him and launched itself into the air, its wings unfolding and beating rapidly. Sleet took aim and sent the blade spinning in the Shadow’s direction, but missed by several feet. Even so, the creature appeared to wobble in the air before reasserting itself and propelling itself forward, only to wink out of existence altogether a moment later.
Sleet breathed deeply before collapsing upon the embankment. He knew he could not remain there like that however. There were many such creatures and, for all he knew, they could soon be appearing here in numbers with the single purpose of finishing him off. He got to his feet once more and then went in search of the weapon that he had hurled skywards. He hunted around for several minutes but could not spy it, so, instead, he turned his attentions first to climbing up out of the gully and then to locating the nearest trafficked road where he knew he would be relatively safe, amongst the throngs of his own human kind.
The information that he had learnt tonight, he told himself, had almost been paid for very dearly indeed. He must take more care in future.
No question was there in his mind, as he stumbled towards the boundary of the park, heading vaguely for Knightsbridge, of abandoning this hair brained scheme, of revenging himself upon these nightmare Shadows. He merely held onto a grim determination to come back stronger and wiser.
Stood atop the culvert was a tall slim figure wrapped in a dark grey longcoat. Its demeanour seemed to be one of deep thought as it considered the water that trickled its way towards the grating before disappearing below where it stood. Its only movement was the constant rapping of the bloody dagger against its thigh. For many minutes the figure retained this pose before turning to stride from the scene.
The evening had been proceeding according to Sleet’s somewhat haphazard plan. He had been tracking this particular beast for some weeks, following reports of mysterious disappearances in the locale. Entire nights he had spent secluded amongst the bushes, waiting pensively like some kind of pervert.
Tonight, though, he had received his reward, in the guise of this single creature that had descended from on high to feast upon the unfortunates to whom the park offered a place to bed down for the night and the various miscreants for whom it served as a nocturnal playground.
The Shadow had descended purposefully to land upon a pathway close behind a young male goth who had been making his way somewhat haltingly along it. The boy had detected the soft thud as the monster’s talonned feet touched down upon the gravel and had spun round to face what he surely could only have dreamt up in his darkest nightmares.
Yes, Sleet had thought, they are something out of a nightmare. The nightmare that I am living through.
From his place amongst the dense shrubbery he had watched as the youth, too petrified to flee, fell back upon the pathway, his limbs scurrying into the gravel in a desperate attempt to propel himself away from the hellish creature that loomed menacingly over him. But Sleet had been able to tell that the Shadow’s spell was already cast and that the boy was transfixed, captured by the penetrating crimson depths of the beast’s deeply socketed eyes, caught as surely as if he were a tiny fly ensnared upon a spider’s web, every twist and turn only serving to further seal his doom.
Sleet had taken a moment to study the creature, convinced as he was that everything he could learn, every slightest nuance, would strengthen his position, committed as he was upon this crusade that he had launched single-handedly against them.
The Shadow was some seven feet in height, perhaps seven and a half, somewhat average from what he had so far seen of them. It stood upright upon its clawed feet, its bowed muscular thighs akimbo, balanced at the rear by a rudimentary tail that swished rhythmically from side to side. Its torso was impressively broad, its pectorals bunched up high on its chest. Powerful arms reached forward, claws that Sleet knew from experience were as sharp as needles, extended threateningly towards its helpless victim. Upon its broad back its wings hung flaccidly, totally out of proportion with the creature’s enormous dimensions. Its skin was a leathery grey which gleamed somewhat in the light of the moon. Its head was squat, centred as it was upon its wide shoulders, with very little neck to speak of.
And its face…..oh God. It was something he had not yet grown accustomed to and perhaps never would. Its visage was truly horrific, consisting as it did of a deeply square jaw that had the capability of lowering itself to somewhere halfway down the demon’s chest to reveal frightening rows of sharply pointed yellow teeth and a tongue that was human-pink and lay coiled within its gaping maw, occasionally slavering out, as if it had a life all its own, to reveal its pointed tip, dripping with its vile saliva.
Its nose was broad and flat with flaring nostrils and its eyes were sunk beneath heavy brows, capable, as he knew, of alternating between button black and a hypnotically piercing fiery red. To either side of its flat topped skull were not ears but small ‘ear-holes’. Upon its crown, and indeed, upon its whole body, was not a single hair.
Its overall appearance brought to mind an overgrown gargoyle that had clambered down from the eaves of a church roof.
And then the moment had arrived. From past experience he had discovered that, whilst the victim of a Shadow was tantalised under the creature’s gaze, the beasts’ concentration was centred momentarily upon its prey. For mere seconds they were potentially as vulnerable as the humans whose lives they were intent upon taking.
Sleet had risen quickly and quietly and skirted the low lying shrubs, making no noise as he skipped across the freshly mown grass, until he was at the rear of the creature and some thirty feet away.
What had happened next was still a blur in his consciousness. He remembered lowering his ski mask as he always did in an effort to protect himself should the Shadow’s deadly stare fall upon him. He recalled unsheathing the short dagger from its scabbard strapped at his side - a one time gift from his brother, its distinctive ivory hilt had rested coolly in his palm. And then he had pointed and switched on the ultraviolet torch which he knew at the very least would distract the creature and at most, had demonstrated a very serious effect upon the beasts’ metabolic structure.
Click!.................The bulb had exploded with a sound which, under normal circumstances, would not have been particularly loud, but, within the silence generated by the Shadow’s spell, had seemed to clap with a deafening report. The creature had spun around agilely to glower at him down the pathway, its eyes blazing, as if in anger at the disturbance that he had caused.
Aware that he had certainly caught the monster’s attention, Sleet had quickly considered his options (which included facing the beast in combat with his now rather insignificant feeling blade) and had come to an abrupt conclusion. He had turned and fled, sparing not a glance for the youth, who, released from the demon’s gaze, had regained his feet and set off hurriedly in the opposite direction.
As he had gained the tree-line the beast’s blood curdling screech had rung in his ears. Oh great, he’d thought, I’ve upset it.
And now here he was, careening headlong through the vegetation, hotly pursued by a gigantic life-sucking monster whose hunting territory he had purposefully entered. The analogy of an over-adventurous big game hunter on safari occurred to him, but he thought he would be grateful if it was only a lion that was gaining upon him second by second. At least he could climb into a tree to escape a lion; something that he knew would be pointless as a defence against this flying demon.
He attempted to increase his pace but succeeded only in tripping himself on a tree root which launched him head first out of the trees and sprawling down an embankment, his mouth scooping up dirt as he went and his chin, at one point, connecting jarringly with what was probably a small tree stump.
He tumbled repeatedly and came to rest with a shallow splash in what he realised must be a drainage gully of sorts. Ignoring his body’s screams for attention which he was receiving from numerous areas, not least of which his possibly dislocated jaw, he allowed primeval fear to overtake him and turned to pelt through the man-made stream as fast as he could, his breath now coming in ragged gasps as his lungs heaved.
In the gloom ahead of him was an even darker shape, arising from a point where the glint of moonlight upon the water’s surface ceased. A tunnel or some kind of culvert, perhaps small enough to shelter him from his deadly pursuer.
Sleet risked a glance over his shoulder and saw that the Shadow was wading through the water towards him, still distant but seeming to come towards him with an inexorable purpose that cloaked his heart with dread. He faced forwards once more as he stumbled amidst the uneven stone bed and fell to one already badly gashed knee which sent a spear of pain straight up his thigh and into his spine. He raised himself with some effort and once more struggled forward towards the gaping mouth of possible sanctuary.
The beast hollered out its wild vociferation which seemed to batter him physically through the thin night air, like waves pounding upon a beech. He felt an undeniable impulse to turn and face the demon once more, but even as he did so he continued to tread backwards in desperate hope of salvation.
The beast was much closer now, no more than twenty feet away, its eyes aglow like two red hot coals. Sleet tried not to be drawn into those fiery pools but he knew it was probably inevitable that he do so, his mask, and whatever protection it may have afforded him, lost somewhere between the initial confrontation and his damp arrival in the gully’s bed. He continued to tread slowly backwards, the water sloshing around his ankles. The Shadow strode towards him, its nose now held high as if scenting its prey.
Another step back, and then another. At this moment Sleet would have welcomed gladly any crack to the back of his head that would signal his arrival at the culvert’s entrance.
One more step, one more………….and then his back collided with the vertical metal bars of the grating which prevented anything other than water continuing along this course. Oh shit! His heart sank as he fumbled for the dagger, for what little use it could possibly be. It occurred to him that he could take his own life, but he was unsure how to make a clean job of it.
He looked up. His demon had arrived.
The Shadow bent forward to face him eye to eye, now mere inches away. Its jaw dropped away and its rows of pointed teeth sparkled horrifically in the moonlight, its tongue lolling lazily back and forth. Its breath was rank, not just rotten but somehow the scent of evil itself, and momentarily Sleet wondered if this alone would be enough to render him unconscious.
The beast’s penetrating crimson gaze bore into him and his mind was drawn into its fiery hypnotic whirlpools. Visions of they who had once been closest to him swam up to his mind’s eye.
His brother. His Mother. Moira.
Their faces swept past repeatedly, faster and faster. He reached out to arrest their increasing speed but his hands were no longer there. The faces quickly became blurred before condensing into a faintly glowing blue sphere that mesmerised him, the power emanating from it intoxicating. He was drawn steadily towards it. There was nothing he could do to stop………..stop………….stop.
Stop! He wrenched himself forcibly back into reality, bile rising from his gut, his head dizzy, his vision doubled. Two pairs of glowing red eyes wavered in the air before him. In his left hand he felt the haft of the dagger which he had somehow managed to retain a grasp upon. He clutched it tightly now and with the last vestige of strength left to him he lunged forward to bury the blade deeply into the creature’s sternum.
The Shadow screamed out in what could have been pain or anger or both and this time the reverberations of the monster’s ungodly voice physically rattled his head against the bars of the grating as it echoed down the tunnel beyond.
And then it was answered.
It was almost beyond his hearing and he was not sure whether he had actually heard it, or rather, felt it. But whatever it was it was behind him and getting closer rapidly.
And, as they raced past his ears on either side, Sleet realised exactly what they were. Bats, disturbed by the vibrations of the Shadow’s unearthly cry. Dozens of them, maybe hundreds, fled from their underground lair and proceeded to circle tightly in the air before him, their barely audible sonar pings now seeming to come from all directions at once.
The effect upon the creature before him was astounding. The Shadow instantly raised its clawed fingers to hold its head and it span about repeatedly, kicking water in all directions. It swayed first one way and then the other before falling to its knees in silent agony and then collapsing into the watercourse, rolling from side to side.
It had, Sleet quickly realised, been totally disoriented and rendered virtually immobile and, as a result, incredibly vulnerable.
In seconds he was upon it, pulling the blade from where he had sunk it into the chest of the brute, and then repeatedly stabbing the creature again and again. It screeched out its furore and cast him aside with what was probably a feeble swipe of its arm that sent Sleet sprawling into the vegetation at the side of the stream. He hardly felt the thorns that simultaneously pierced his skin but quickly wheeled around to confront the monster once more.
The bats swooped low over him before, seemingly as one, they dived back between the bars of the dark tunnel entrance. Within seconds they were gone. The Shadow, both dazed and injured, the fire now gone from its eyes, was back on its knees, breathing raggedly, a low snarl emanating from somewhere deep in the back of its throat.
Sleet stood, the dagger still gripped tightly in his palm, guessing that he was probably no match for the demon, even in its wounded state. He stepped forwards, whilst telling himself that he was mad to do so. The creature pushed itself to its feet, a flicker of orange in its eyes as it cast its glare upon him.
And then it turned its back upon him and launched itself into the air, its wings unfolding and beating rapidly. Sleet took aim and sent the blade spinning in the Shadow’s direction, but missed by several feet. Even so, the creature appeared to wobble in the air before reasserting itself and propelling itself forward, only to wink out of existence altogether a moment later.
Sleet breathed deeply before collapsing upon the embankment. He knew he could not remain there like that however. There were many such creatures and, for all he knew, they could soon be appearing here in numbers with the single purpose of finishing him off. He got to his feet once more and then went in search of the weapon that he had hurled skywards. He hunted around for several minutes but could not spy it, so, instead, he turned his attentions first to climbing up out of the gully and then to locating the nearest trafficked road where he knew he would be relatively safe, amongst the throngs of his own human kind.
The information that he had learnt tonight, he told himself, had almost been paid for very dearly indeed. He must take more care in future.
No question was there in his mind, as he stumbled towards the boundary of the park, heading vaguely for Knightsbridge, of abandoning this hair brained scheme, of revenging himself upon these nightmare Shadows. He merely held onto a grim determination to come back stronger and wiser.
Stood atop the culvert was a tall slim figure wrapped in a dark grey longcoat. Its demeanour seemed to be one of deep thought as it considered the water that trickled its way towards the grating before disappearing below where it stood. Its only movement was the constant rapping of the bloody dagger against its thigh. For many minutes the figure retained this pose before turning to stride from the scene.