FADE TO BLACK, Book One: The Weir Chronicles

Chapter Fourteen

A crimson burst came from under the drawn curtains. Jaered froze. Voices, muted and low, rose from the other side. Two Duachs were on the stage behind the velvet tapestry.

Jaered shyfted to the backstage storeroom and stood, staring at the crate. A curse exploded in his head. The drug hadn’t been as potent as promised. Where the hell had Andy wandered off to?

Click. The backstage door eased open to an opera of creaking hinges.

A putrid odor clung to Andy and followed him inside. The sound man grabbed his stomach and leaned against the wall. “Not again,” he mumbled and bent over. A chunky spew rained across the floor.

Jaered held his breath against the nauseating stench. Andy hadn’t seen him, not yet.

A bright-red cloud appeared in front of Andy’s bent figure.

Jaered tossed a wrench at the back of Andy’s skull and he collapsed onto the crate. Jaered shyfted as the image of two men took solid shape.

One of the Duach emerged standing in Andy’s retch. “What the . . .” He lifted his boot to examine it, then let loose a disgruntled moan while scraping his shoes on the concrete.

The other Duach grabbed Andy and rolled him over.

Jaered crouched on the catwalk. The exit sign lit the men’s faces. Jaered clutched the railing. One was the Duach who had shyfted out of the alley, the other—Ning.

“Shit, my intel was right.” The shyftor grabbed his cell from a jacket pocket. “The Heir isn’t at his compound.”

“The Curse hasn’t dropped us.” Ning snatched the cell from the shyftor. “It’s not him, you idiot.” He bent over and peered at the unconscious Andy. “Uncanny. Visible and yet, invisible.” He straightened at the same time his voice grew terse. “You were warned to get your facts straight. You’ve delayed the siege for nothing.”

Jaered stiffened. What siege?

“We had to be sure. It’s not like he’s seen our faces,” the shyftor said.

Ning struck Andy with a slap that set his head rocking. It stilled when Andy pressed his palm to his forehead and moaned. He opened his eyes.

“Oops,” Ning said with a snicker.

“Are you insane?” The shyftor turned his face away.

“What the hell?” Andy tried to sit up, but Ning slammed him against the crate and held him down.

“Stop playing around. We need to get back.” The shyftor backed up toward the door.

Ning scoffed. “He’s seen our faces.”

“That’s on you.” The shyftor swung the back door wider and glanced outside.

Andy covered his face with his hands. “My head’s spinning. I didn’t see anything. Hell, take whatever you want.”

Ning’s hand glowed crimson at the same time his fingers tightened around Andy’s neck. The helpless man struggled.

“Stop!” The shyftor grabbed Ning’s arm and pulled him away. Andy rolled to his side, coughing.

Ning turned on the shyftor and pressed his hand against the man’s chest. The shyftor yelped then collapsed at Ning’s feet. He dropped to his knees next to the lifeless body and inhaled deep the stench of burnt flesh. Ning turned toward Andy with eerie calm. “Go.”

Andy rolled backward off the crate and scrambled to his feet. He took off out the door.

Ning raised the shyftor’s cell and pressed the screen, then held it to his ear. A second later, he lifted his face. “It’s not the Heir. It’s back on schedule. I’m gonna need a ride.” Ning picked up something from the floor. It jingled. “Never mind.”

Jaered patted his pockets and mouthed a curse.

“I won’t be long.” Ning stuffed the cell in his jacket. He grabbed the shyftor by the arm and dragged him outside. A moment later, the SUV’s hatch slammed. Jaered steeled himself, listening. The engine didn’t turn over.

Ning had one more mess to clean up.

Jaered shyfted to the Dumpster behind the auditorium just as Ning disappeared around the corner of the building. He didn’t have time for this. The assassin liked to have fun before putting his prey down.

Jaered made the call then paused at the corner of the building. Ning’s laugh came from the far side of the property.

The expansive parking lot had not been in Andy’s favor.

Pop—a street lamp shattered above a high fence that bordered one side of the lot.

Unsure of their exact location, Jaered hesitated then shyfted. He appeared beside the fence, bathed in the shadows of the broken overhead lamp. Thump. The boards rattled. He jerked back. They were on the other side.

Sounds of a fist connecting with bone and soft flesh came, one after another. Lungs purged air in an audible gasp, and Andy collapsed. Moans came from the base of the fence. “Who are you?” he rasped.

“The right hand of a god,” Ning said. The air lit up in a scarlet glow. “You humans are hardly worth the effort.”

“No!” Andy wailed.

The shrill peal of sirens blended with Andy’s screams. Jaered leaned against the fence and closed his eyes. From the noise, his report of drag racing in the city streets had brought at least three cruisers.

Another scream and Andy fell silent. Jaered bent over and stifled a gag at the haze of burning flesh as rising flames reached beyond the fence. Flickering streaks of light outlined the boards. Heat escaped through the openings and flames licked between the slats.

The sound of running footsteps. Ning reached the end of the fence and ran through the empty lot, headed for the rear of the auditorium. The clamorous sirens dragged Jaered’s thoughts from the funeral pyre. The compound or the assassin? He shyfted into the rear of Andy’s SUV ahead of Ning—and appeared on top of a corpse.