Midnight. The heavy clouds more than covered the little sliver of moon in the sky tonight. It was dark, and quiet. It was Valentine's kind of night.
She got along with her companions, and they were even amusing sometimes. But getting away from things, and not having to deal with people, could be so relaxing sometimes.
A tower of pink hair and the glowing tip of a cigarette moved back and forth on Fleet Street. Valentine didn't know exactly why, but she wanted to come back to where that man had flipped out. She also had her Kyogo slung at her side.
Valentine had been out for almost an hour, now. She had seen only three other people, and she was fairly certain they had been really drunk. She turned around and walked the other way back down the street.
Valentine was halfway down the street, when she fell to the pavement, the wind knocked out of her. She rolled and brought the Kyogo around on-
Nothing. She knew something had hit her, damnit, and there was nothing behind her! She fired a burst into the darkness, and heard it ping off a building nearby.
Claws raked her chest, and Valentine staggered. ``What the Hell?!'' She flipped the Kyogo to full auto, and let fly. She could hear the plate glass windows shatter and crash to the ground, but she still couldn't see anything!
Valentine turned, and ran for a streetlight. She had barely made three strides, when it caught her, and sent her crashing face first into the street. More gunfire proved just as ineffective as the previous bursts.
She scrambled to her feet, and made a mad leap for the nearest storefront, so she could throw her back against it. The gun barrel sought desperately for a target.
A cloud drifted away from the moon, allowing some light down into the street. Valentine gasped.
Standing in front of her was a humanoid shape, midnight black and translucent. It stood five foot four, and had spiked shaped projections extending two feet from its head. It also had long, wicked looking claws, in the same black, hazy material.
And when it opened its mouth to issue forth that cackling, maniacal laugh, fangs glistened in the moonlight.
It moved, and Valentine felt pain in her side.
The voice was like fingernails on slate, and it came from everywhere. ``You have been such a fun little toy! You make me so happy!'' And it laughed again.
Fear welled up inside of Valentine, cold and sickly. She dropped her gun and dove through the nearest window. The glass broke across her face and head, gouging skin.
The last thing she heard as consciousness slipped away was the laugh.
Alice picked the phone up on the fourth ring. Shadoe was more than happy to let the Victorian woman tend to thing. Alice found the annoying device just too charming, and that fact relieved Shadoe from the annoyance of answering it for as long as Alice stayed with her, which would be until after the wedding.
``Hello?'' inquired Alice.
``It's me,'' came the response, practically dripping with the kind of malice and frustration that one occasionally needs to vent at the world in general, when the real cause is either unknown or unavailable.
``Valentine, whatever is the matter? You sound so-'' Alice was about to say, 'unlike yourself', then realised the inherent falsity in that statement. ``-so upset. Where are you?''
``I'm in jail.'' Alice had no desire to learn French, and the stream of profanities went unappreciated past her ears.
``My word! How ever did that happen?''
There came a long, deep sigh. ``I was arrested, that's how! They think I was breaking and entering some fluffy little boutique on Fleet Street. I was attacked by something, damnit!''
Alice gasped a sharp inspiration of breath. ``Dear! What was it, Valentine?''
More profanity. ``I don't know! It kept hitting me, and I shot at it, but I couldn't see a thing! Right before I went under, I thought I saw, I don't know, like a silhouette or something. It messed me up pretty bad. And of course the coppers didn't find anything.''
Shadoe had heard enough to come padding silently from her room. She listened as Alice asked, ``That's awful! Have they let a doctor see you? Are you alright?''
``Nothing too serious, and they did drag me through the infirmary on the way to my cell. Will you just get me the Hell out of here?''
Alice cupped the receiver for a moment. ``Shadoe, she's been arrested. She says she was attacked, but there was no evidence afterward.
``Valentine, dear, do we have to post bail or something?''
``Yes. Post bail. A thousand pounds. And get here as soon as you can.'' A deep male voice on Valentine's end of the phone spoke briefly, and then Val started screaming. ``What the Hell do you mean, they can't bail me out until tomorrow morning! I want out of here now, damnit! I didn't do a thing! Hey! Let go! Let-''
There was a loud thunk as the phone clattered against cinderblocks. Then, a British voice spoke. ``Is this Mrs. Alice 'argraves?''
``Yes. And with whom am I speaking?''
``Constable Kiley. Miss Wiggin 'as been returned to 'er cell for the hevening. Do you 'ave something to write wi', ma'am?''
Alice rummaged for pencil and paper. ``Yes, Constable, I do.''
``Right.'' He gave her the address of the station, and said that the clerk would be in at 7:30 am, and that she could post bail to him.
``Anythin' else I can do for you, ma'am?''
``No, thank you. Just take care of Valentine, please.''
``Will do, ma'am. Goodnight.''
John Philip Souza marches blared at deafening volume from a small flat some ten blocks south of Westminster bridge. Alice, Shadoe, and Valentine were trying to figure out what in the world was going on as they trudged up the stairs, practically fighting the pulsing sound waves.
As they reached apartment 2-C, Alice suddenly recalled--but, of course, she couldn't explain it to the other two over the noise. Today was some sort of holiday for Brenden, but she couldn't remember what anyway.
Valentine stubbed out a cigarette and laid into the door with all of her frustration and pent up hostility. ``Open the fucking door, Brenden!''
Minutes of pounding on the door served only to bruise her hand, increasing her targetless wrath.
Shadoe produced several small, metal tools, and had the door open in seconds. The three moved in. Shadoe's delicate ears hurt, and Alice cringed away from the sheer volume. Valentine found the stereo, and thought aloud, ``I'd shoot the damn thing--if I had my gun!'' She settled for pulling the plug, and listening as the record wound its distorted way down.
``What the-'' said Brenden, as his wet head appeared around the bathroom door, his Beretta 9mm looking for targets.
``Hey, what's going on?''
Valentine scowled. ``Get out here, will you?''
Then Brenden noticed Alice's blushing form, and he said, ``Ah, let me put some clothes on first. I was taking a shower.''
Five minutes later, modesty and propriety having been satisfied, Brenden found out about what had happened in the wee hours of the morning.
Valentine finished with, ``And they won't give me back my gun or anything!''
Brenden nodded. ``What do they still have?''
``My gun and my cyberdeck!''
Alice laid a hand on Brenden's. ``Is there something you can do for the poor dear?''
Brenden smiled. ``I'll see what I can do.''
Several phone calls later, Brenden announced, ``I have a meeting with somebody at M.I.5 Monday morning. We'll see what happens then.''
Alice stood up. ``Well then, I'll have to go back to Shadoe's flat and start getting ready.''
The entire group was to attend a formal event at the home of Lord Geoffrey Mountbatten later this evening. Brenden had declined, insisting that he had guests in town early for the wedding. ``Well, then, you'll just have to bring them all along, won't you?'' Brenden foresaw an...interesting evening.
Brenden looked confused. ``But we needn't be at Lord Mountbatten's until 6:30 this evening.''
Alice looked pained. ``I know, but I think I can make it in time nonetheless. Until tonight, then.''
Slice, thrust, pivot, move, and slice. Shadoe padded around her living room, while Alice worked at whatever it was that Victorian women needed to do before being sociable.
Forward and thrust. Of course, Brenden was supposed to be by a little before six, thought Shadoe. She'd have to get ready shortly. But the workout felt good. She'd be done in a few minutes.
Moving through a turn, she caught movement out of the corner of an eye. She completed the turn, and brought the ninja-to up to ready.
It seemed for a moment that nothing was there--but then nothing batted her blade out of the way. Instinctively, Shadoe dove and rolled across the bamboo mats. She stood quickly to fighting position, and this time saw it just before it struck. It looked like the perfect ninja night-suit, as black as mist. But, she realised, she could see through it! As it swung horrible, deformed claws at her, Shadoe felt fear root her to the ground. Icy tentacles kept the sword in place as the claws ripped across her arm.
Blood trickled.
And Shadoe realised that this thing was exactly the same size as her. She also noticed that, despite the bright lights in the room, she cast no shadow.
Of course not; her shadow was moving about, stalking her across her own living room. Shadoe felt a chill pass over her. What manner of thing was this?
With Shadoe's own flowing grace, the creature moved in. Part of Shadoe's brain, so well-trained that it disassociated itself from the paralysis of fear that threatened to overwhelm the rest of her body, moved the ninja sword in a constant series of blocks and parries.
After several exchanges, she realised that the thing never stepped directly in front of the lamps. Maybe that meant something--if it really was something of shadow.
The ninja parried again, then retreated with one of the lights directly at her back. If she could lure this creature-
But it did not follow. When Shadoe had backed out of immediate range, it turned and swung at one of the lamps, shattering it. A swath of darkness cut through the room. Shadoe could feel a cold sweat break across her forehead as she realised what was happening.
Then she heard a scream from the other room, from Alice. Shadoe stood helpless and uncertain, her mind clouded with the doubt born of overwhelming fear, as the creature shattered two more bulbs, throwing fully half the room into darkness.
Suddenly, Alice was running from her bedroom--and her own shadow, brought horribly to life, tore at her back with fangs and claws.
The ninja shadow creature leapt onto the fleeing woman, carrying her down to the ground. The second shadow threw its head back, showing its midnight black and razor sharp fangs before burying them into Alice's side.
Shadoe saw blood splatter on the mats before the two stood up, and faced her.
She had to run! To go anywhere but here! Shadoe held her sword limply out in front of her as she backed unsteadily away. But the two beasts did not move! They just stood, staring at her.
And then, Shadoe felt something behind her. Slowly, she turned, with despair boiling over in her gut. She turned, and saw the demon standing over her.
Eight feet tall it stood, made of darkness and evil. Angular, menacing spikes projected from it's joints. It was all points and sharp edges, from its six inch fangs so black they seemed yet to glow, to the long, gnarled claws which scraped the ground at its side.
With a deep, guttural, inhuman noise, it dropped its jaw and laughed. Then, bloodlust showed in its glowing red eyes as it swung a taloned hand at the helpless ninja.
A powerful overhand swing battered Shadoe to the ground. She was lying in blood--hers or Alice's she knew not. Through dimming vision, she felt waves of nausea assault her as she watched the first two shadows melt back onto the ground, beside their respective bodies.
She saw the Shadow Demon standing over her as the blackness conquered her.
Brenden was still whistling ``Stars and Stripes Forever'' as he walked towards Shadoe's ground floor flat. He had had to rent a tux, since his own clothes were still stuck behind the investigation line at the BOQ, but it fit nicely, he looked good, and he was happy.
He came to the correct door, and rapped lightly with his knuckles. There came no response, so he knocked again, louder. Could they have stepped out? They knew what time he was supposed to pick them up, and, even if he was five minutes early, they should be here.
Brenden began to worry. They he became aware of an odour--the smell of blood was in the air.
The CIA training took over; Brenden's Beretta was in his hand, and his back was against the wall. A quick hit with his foot, but the door did not give. One well-placed round through the lock, however, did the trick. He dove and rolled as soon as the door started to swing.
As he came to a crouch, he gasped. Lying in front of him, unmoving and bleeding, was Alice's body. Half the room was thrown into darkness, and, just rising to her feet from within the darkness, was Shadoe.
Llewelyn's eyes scanned the room just long enough to be sure that whoever had done this was not still around. His hands then moved quickly to tear strips from the hem of Alice's torn and stained dressing gown, and began to bandage her wounds.
Shadoe had made it to her knees, and rubbed her hands over her face, as if to make sure that it was more or less as she remembered it. ``How is she?'' she grunted.
Brenden tied off a bandage. ``Not too bad. How are you? What the Hell happened here, anyway?''
Shadoe shook her head, trying to clear bad memories. ``The shadows, they attacked us. It was...like Valentine described. But worse.''
Alice was beginning to stir. Brenden had rested her head on his lap while he worked. He held his hands to her cheeks as she struggled for consciousness.
``Worse? How?''
Shadoe resheathed her sword and looked about her damaged living room. ``I was practicing, and then--it had to be; there's no other explanation, really--my own shadow, somehow distorted and alive, attacked me with fangs and claws.
``While I was out here, the same thing happened to Alice. She tried to run, but the both of them got her.
``I- I tried to do something. But I was just frozen. And then, this demon, as tall as the ceiling, all twisted and grotesque and of shadow itself, laughed at me and struck me down.''
Brenden's face grew very hard and set.
Alice had heard part of Shadoe's recount, and made her way to a sitting position, saying, ``She's right. Oh, Brenden, it was just terrible! I tried to change, to fight, but I was so scared, all I could do was run away!''
Brenden gave her hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance.
``Brenden,'' insisted Alice, ``there is a Horror in London, and I think it is after us. First Valentine, now here...''
Brenden nodded. ``This may seem inappropriate, but I think right now the best thing we can do is to go to Lord Mountbatten's. There will be plenty of light, and lots of people. Alice, will you go?''
Alice was on her feet now. ``Yes, I think so. Let me change. Dear, can you wait for twenty minutes?''
Brenden pondered briefly how, when she was in perfect health and buoyant spirits, it took her all day to get ready; but battered, bruised and frightened, it took only twenty minutes. Who was to understand?
``Yes, dear. I'll wait out here.''
Brenden could have told everyone to make it to Lord Mountbatten's on their own, but he felt it wiser if they stayed together, and also if he could keep on eye on some of them. Some of them meaning Bubba, Valentine, and to a lesser degree John and Alain.
Bubba stood at seven and two-thirds feet, and was about half that in width. It was almost amusing to watch him try to behave himself, except for the fact that Brenden and Alice would be the ones to be embarrassed by him. Valentine had been at Bubba's for a good portion of the afternoon helping him with his tie.
The giant had come originally with Uthorion's forces, but, after the revelation of Uthorion's deception under the guise of Lady Ardinay, he, and many others, had left their armies in disgust. Since then, the name ``Bubba'' had just stuck with him. Though not a great conversationalist, he had once allowed that he was ashamed of his old name, because, to him, it was part of the time he had spent working for the Dark. So, now he was Bubba, with a new name to mark his new beginnings.
And Valentine... Val was wearing her leather jacket with chains, a leather micro-skirt, fishnets (one black, the other red), and combat boots. She was smoking those stupid little French cigarettes, of course. Brenden idly wondered if her hair was in danger of catching fire.
Shadoe had been a little miffed when they asked her to check her sword at the door, but she had done so. Dressed in a beautifully printed silk kimono, she attracted quite a few pairs of eyes, and a fair amount of conversation.
John Kickingbird was about the only one in the whole manour that didn't realise just how out of place he was. Wearing leather skins, feathers, beads, and whathaveyou, he made his rounds, tying up any available ears. Several of the older nobles found him quite amusing, so he was not wanting for company during the evening.
Dame Anna looked quite fetching. Brenden was used to seeing her dressed in khakis and a beaten up leather jacket. Tonight she wore a shimmering gown of royal blue, and a string of pearls. Her hair was pulled up on one side, fastened back by a silver comb, allowing one of her small silver earrings to sparkle under the chandelier overhead.
However, the person in command of the most attention during the night--and quite oblivious to the fact, mind you--was Alain Mirandor. Slim and graceful as only an elven maid can be, her buxom form was wrapped in a sheen of spider silk as white as her flowing hair. Her ink black skin showed through the gorgeous meshwork, and only those spots which needed to be were covered by small patches of opacity. Small pieces of jewelry adorned her neck and one of her ankles, but none for her ears, as that most certainly would have detracted from the fine, curving lines of those ears themselves, the points of which barely showed above the falling tresses.
Valentine elbowed Bubba as the elf strode past, and told him to keep his jaw closed. Alice was absolutely flabbergasted at such an obscene display. Valentine said, ``Wow! I want one!''
Lord and Lady Mountbatten met the group as they entered. Brenden held out a strong hand, and tried to act refined--as he had recently been learning to do.
``Lord Mountbatten, we are honoured to be your guests tonight.''
Geoffrey shook the offered hand, saying, ``Not at all. Indeed, I'm glad you could all make it. Count Llewelyn, Dame Hargraves, may I present my wife, Eleanor?''
Eleanor curtsied slightly, a sincere smile on her face, then Brenden brought her gloved hand to his lips, while Alice returned the curtsey with a few kind words. Anna was very cordial, Alain and Shadoe were both formal in their own particular way, and the others...
The greetings went well enough, and the group decided to go their separate ways and mingle. Bubba stood near the buffet table, and Valentine volunteered to keep him out of trouble.
An hour or so into the evening, Brenden was circulating on his own. He had expected Alice to disappear into a crowd of her own, and, indeed, she and Lady Eleanor had taken to each other quite famously.
From behind him, Brenden heard, ``Count Llewelyn, I say.''
Brenden turned, and saw behind him a handsome man of about thirty. The approaching figure sported straight, thinning light brown hair, and his six-four frame seemed to be that of an athlete. Brenden met the handshake.
``Count Llewelyn, I have been looking for you. Somebody mentioned- Ah, but do you remember me even? We've met, but only briefly.''
Brenden took in the strong jaw, the aquiline nose, the dark green eyes. The picture was familiar, and they probably had met, but Brenden could bring no name to his lips. He said as much.
``Forgive me for being so forward. Arthur Dalming. I'm fairly certain we bumped into one another at Earl Bainbridge's last month, not so?''
That sounded right to Brenden, and he mentally tagged a title onto Dalming's name. He chanced it. ``I believe so, Lord Dalming.''
``Oh, do call me Arthur.''
Brenden nodded, and returned the familiarity.
``What was it you were saying? You had been looking for me?''
Arthur smiled, and said, ``Yes, I have. Somebody else tonight mentioned to me that you are in the process of restoring an estate in Wales. I hope they weren't mistaken.''
``Not at all. I am, in fact.''
``Ah. That is what interested me. I am doing the same at the moment. Well, in York I am; not in Wales. Do you mind chatting for a while?''
Brenden felt uneasy, for some reason, but he dismissed the feeling, and said, ``Certainly.'' He waved a glass between them, and said, ``Let me first just get a refill.''
Moments later, that accomplished, Dalming queried, ``Please don't think me rude, but it is somewhat, well, obvious, that you are not British. How did you come to possess a title and lands?''
There was nothing haughty in the Lord's voice, as Brenden had heard from others of his breed, so he didn't mind answering.
``Actually, that is an interesting story, if you don't mind hearing it.''
``By all means...''
Brenden sipped at his port, and began. ``Some of my friends and I had the fortune to do quite a good turn for Her Majesty's government. Her Majesty sought fit to bestow Knighthoods on those of us involved--I daresay, all of my companions tonight have such a title, but only Anna uses it at all, and then only while in England--and, in further generosity, appointed John Kickingbird and myself as Life Peers.
``I had done a little research, and found that the family and estate to which I could trace lineage were in Wales. However, the previous title holder had been found guilty of treason in aiding the forces of the Dark. He was hanged, and the lands lay unclaimed.
``Other circumstances had forced me to renounce my American citizenship,''--Brenden tried his best not to sound bitter as he said that--``so as a citizen of Great Britain, I decided to follow a particular course. And I was successful. Though I was nominally eighty-sixth in line for the title, no others seemed willing to assume the mantle of responsibilities, and Her Majesty's government saw fit to remove the Life Peerage, and, instead, to grant me the hereditary title.''
Arthur held a hand to his chin. ``Quite a story. Would I be correct in assuming that you have brought a new name to the manour?''
Brenden sipped, and agreed, ``Yes, it seemed right, considering how the turnover came about.''
``And what do you call the place now?''
Brenden grinned wryly. ``The Puzzle Palace.''
``Quite a curious name. 'Puzzle Palace'.''
``And what,'' asked Brenden, ``of your own restoration?''
Arthur smiled wanly. ``Not as exciting a story as yours, I should think. But there are some similarities.
``My family had, for generations, owned a place in the Purfleet district outside of London. Ringwood, it was called.''
Anna had drifted nearby, and was listening to the conversation. Arthur noted her out of the corner of his eye.
``When the invasions first began, we all shipped off to Germany to stay with relations there. And quite a good choice it was! We found out later, that when the Ayslish reality invaded, and the brave chaps up at Oxford deflected the brunt of the invasion, that the dark forces marched down to London--and razed most of Purfleet along the way. Our house was ruined.
``I was adamant in my correspondence (I suppose correspondence implies more of a back and forth exchange, and I assure you, that of which I speak was decidedly one-sided!) that my family should receive some sort of compensation for our terrible loss.
Arthur showed a devilish grin. ``It seems I stirred the proper cages, for something finally happened. There was an estate, in North Riding, that had been abandoned, like my own home. But, even after the Cumberland zone was returned to the control of the forces of the Light, the owners refused to come back. The government took control of the lands.
``It seems the government was looking for a way to show off their efforts at rebuilding our fair country. They granted the land to my family. However, my parents no longer wished to return, either, as Germany seemed a relatively safe place to be. Maybe I am simply more stubborn. Anyway, I came back to take control of the lands and title.''
Out of the corner of his eye, Brenden noticed as Bubba picked up a whole tray of hor d'oeuvres, and swept them into his mouth with the other arm. Brenden grimaced.
``Brenden, would you do me the honour of introducing me to all of your comrades?'' Arthur was looking unabashedly at Anna, who blushed slightly.
``Certainly. I guess we'll start here. Lord Arthur Dalming, may I present Dame Anna Schaeffer.''
Arthur took her hand to his lips, and told her, ``I am honoured.''
Anna felt a little uneasy. This was not the sort of thing she was used to. ``Lord Dalming, I'm charmed.'' She curtsied, and withdrew her hand.
Anna excused herself to the powder room, and Brenden took Arthur around to meet everyone. ``How do you do,'' he said somewhat stiffly to Valentine, as he held her hand momentarily. Val, of course, performed the most exaggerated curtsey ever seen in public, then giggled.
Bubba wiped his mouth on the back of his left hand, then held out his right. ``Hi!''
Arthur winced at the handshake.
``Ah, so this is your lovely fiancé!'' lavished Arthur upon meeting Alice. ``Have we, by chance, met before? You seem familiar to me.''
``I don't think so, sir.''
Dalming allowed himself second and third glances at Alain.
As the night's events drew to a close, and Brenden and Alice collected all of their friends in order to depart, Lord Dalming came up to them near the door.
``Brenden, I would like to thank you and your friends for allowing me a splendid evening. You are all such fascinating people.'' Arthur looked significantly at Anna as he said this. He had manage to hover near her most of the evening, and they had talked about all sorts of things.
A small voice inside Anna, somewhere near her heart, started to remind her about some of the things that had been lacking in her life since the Wars started.
``Would you all do me the favour of joining me for lunch tomorrow? I would be most delighted if you could.''
Brenden said, ``I can only speak for myself, of course, but I'd be happy to.'' The others quickly acquiesced.
Arthur provided a name and an address. ``It is a simply wonderful little café. If that meets with your approval, I shall see you at one, then?''
Lord Dalming bowed politely, and departed.
On the way home, Alice remarked to Anna, ``Wasn't that Lord Dalming such a terribly charming man?''
Anna looked nonchalant. ``Oh, I suppose so.''