Crimson Midnight (A New Adult Dark Urban Fantasy Series) (The Crimson Series Book 1) (9 page)

The Alpha’s face was mere inches
away from his. Harold’s eyes were wide with fear and shock, his face red as the
blood was squeezed upwards by Richard’s hold on his neck. He tried to speak, to
explain, but he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t…

Harold gasped, taking a lungful of
air as he hit the floor on his hands and knees.

Richard stepped back, having
released him. He stood impassive as Harold retched and gasped trying to regain
his composure. Around him the other pack members shook themselves, glad to be
free from the emotional impact of their Alpha’s wrath.  

Raven stood to one side of his
Alpha, his hands folded across his broad chest. He wanted to feel some
compassion for Harold but he had exhausted all of the chances he was given. In
the old days he would have been ripped to shreds by his Alpha for showing the
disrespect he did. Harold had got off lightly.

He wanted to live like a wolf,
wanted the old rules and the old freedoms to run and change and feed, yet he
failed to show the old respect that any pack member would to the chain of
command. Harold was one confused werewolf, a werewolf living in the present day
yet unable to let go of a past he had never actually lived. He had no idea how
good he had it.

Finally, Harold’s breathing
regulated and he pulled himself up to stand, his head raised and his eyes
looking at the Alpha. But not directly into Richard’s eyes. Harold looked
composed, except for his hands, which were trembling slightly.

There was a beat of silence in
which every eye was on the Alpha. The air seemed to wonder what he would do
next.

Richard turned pointedly to his
Beta who stepped forward and addressed Harold.  “Your impulsive actions put the
pack at risk tonight. You almost got yourself killed and would have taken Roman
with you.”

Roman looked away. He had a bad
feeling about what was coming next. And although he knew that Harold deserved
it, he wouldn’t wish it on any active pack member.

“With all due respect,” Harold said
through clenched teeth, “Roman didn’t have to follow me.”

“Oh, but he did, Harold. He was
doing his duty to the pack by backing you up,” Raven said.

“Yet instead of thanking him for
acting in a way that most certainly saved your hide, you attempt to label him
as incompetent?”  Richard was speaking again.  He took a step forward cocking
his head. “It is a shame, you have much potential. Yet you are your own worst
enemy.” He sighed as if exhausted with the whole thing. “You are suspended.”

Harold’s head jerked up in surprise
his eyes accidentally meeting the Alpha’s then darting quickly away. He opened
his mouth to speak and the air around him tightened as Richard’s temper flared.
He quickly closed his mouth.

“A week, I think, will be
sufficient. Think long and hard, decide whether you are able and willing to
commit to the chain of command.  If so then you may return. If not then…” he
let the sentence trail off. 

They all knew what it meant to be
suspended from the active pack. Harold would be cut off from the shared
consciousness, the shared awareness and the sense of security they shared when
in wolf form. He would be secluded from all active pack duties. In essence he
would be just a civilian in the pack as a whole, just like all the other
non-active pack members who lived in suburbia or lived their lives as regular
humans who just happened be a werewolf, part of a mundane routine, another face
in the crowd, a slow death to the dominant wolf akin to ripping off his balls.

“Now get out. We have pack business
to discuss.” Richard spoke without malice, his tone perfectly neutral. But the
words themselves could not have cut deeper if he had shouted them in Harold’s
face. 

Harold’s whole body jerked as if he
had been slapped. He blinked rapidly, looking around the room at his pack
mates. Kris’s eyes were moist. Damon sat staring at his hands. Roman closed his
eyes, shook his head and looked away. Only Raven and Richard remained with
their eyes fixed on him as he turned on legs that felt like jelly and walked
out of the room, down the hallway and out of the penthouse.

He could still feel them, his pack–
feel their disappointment, their sorrow, their anger.  As he closed the door
behind him he felt the connection snap. For the first time in a long time he
was totally alone in his head.

After Harold’s departure the mood
was solemn. Marianne entered carrying a large tray laden with sandwiches and
homemade triple-chocolate gateau.

She was a beautiful woman who
looked to be only forty of her eighty years. With silver blonde hair and
sparkling grey eyes, she was an exquisite picture to look at.  She laid the
tray on the glass dining table that the wolves were gathered around. Then she
straightened, smoothing down her chic pencil skirt. She moved to Richard’s side
placing a soothing hand on his shoulder.

“Come eat something.” Marianne said
simply. She then addressed the pack “What are you waiting for, pups? Tuck in.”
She smiled her warm, dazzling smile, a smile that said that it was okay, that
everything would be okay. And just like that, the tension was broken. The
werewolves shook it off and began to eat.

After the plates and cups had been
cleared away Richard asked them all to be seated.  “There is one more order of
business to discuss.” He frowned.  “A new development actually.”

Raven leant forward in his seat
sensing his Alpha’s anxiety.

“It seems that we have some
unauthorised demon activity.”

Kris looked confused. “What do you
mean?”

Richard sighed.  “A Henry Simpkins,
a warlock, was reported missing this morning.  Apparently he didn’t show up for
work. He was supposed to be meeting up with a friend the night before, another
warlock, and when he didn’t show his friend asked some questions.  The council
authorised an investigation and it’s pretty certain that he was taken by some
kind of demon a couple of nights ago.  There’s a strong demon signature in the
supermarket car park near his home and his cat tells us that he was indeed
attacked.  It’s unlikely that he survived.”

“Sorry I’m not sure I heard right. 
Did you say ‘his cat’?” Roman asked.

Richard nodded.  “Many warlocks
keep familiars and it is not uncommon for a warlock to be able to communicate
with it. In this case the familiar was his cat. We are unsure where the demon
came from as no summoning has been authorised in the past month.”

Raven rubbed a weary hand over his
face.  First rogue werewolves and now a demon attack, what next?  “So the
council want us to keep an eye out on patrol?”

“Yes.  And report anything else
that may look suspicious.  Keep your eye on the news, the papers and so on.  We
have been asked to assist with any further investigations.  Let’s just hope
this is an isolated incident.” He smiled thinly.

The pack nodded– Raven already
mentally drawing up a new patrol schedule for the coming week, one that did not
include Harold.

Richard retired to his study
shortly after having instructed Raven to up the ante on the patrols, and to
keep him informed of any further disturbances. The security on the other
warehouses would now have to be re-thought. His Beta was always one-step ahead,
always on the ball. Raven had already spoken to Maxwell, the warlock on the
pack payroll, about introducing some serious warding on the buildings. With
magic and technology working together they should be able to keep their
properties secure.

He ran a hand over his face,
sitting heavily onto the luxurious leather chair in his study.  This rogue
attack had been too close to home. His worry wasn’t for himself. It was for the
love of his life, his dear Marianne.

They had met fifty years ago, she
the daughter of the Russian pack’s Beta, and him the new British Alpha.  It had
been a chance meeting at the ball after the World Wide Meet– an annual meeting
where the heads of each pack from around the world congregate for the annual
werewolf meeting. 

He remembered the moment he had
laid eyes on her. It had been as if the world around him had slowed down, as if
only he and she remained in the whole room. He could tell she felt it too by
the stunned expression on her face as their eyes had locked.  The room had spun
out of control as her scent, her consciousness and her pure goodness had
barrelled into him and through him like a tsunami.  He had bonded.  It was the
quickest, strongest bonding he had ever heard of, and he had had the privilege
of experiencing it. Falling in love, it seemed, had happened instantly,
although he knew realistically that it had come over them bit by bit as they
got to know each other. But their wolves had chosen each other and the wolves
had been right. They were made for each other. 

“Sweetheart, are you coming to
bed?” Her voice was like a pacifier to his worried thoughts.

“I’ll be there in a moment, my
darling.” He smiled up at her, framed in the doorway. His eyes widened slightly
as he took in what she was wearing. 

He cleared his throat. “I do hope
my wolves have left.”

She chuckled low in her throat, the
sound both feminine and sexy. “Of course.” She arched a finely shaped eyebrow.
“So…are you coming?”

Richard was out of his chair in a
shot. “Yes.” His voice was a growl. “And you will be too…again and again and
again.”

He swept her into his arms and into
the bedroom.

8.

SHIMMER OF VIOLET

Raven woke up before his alarm
clock could do it for him. He often did. It was as if he could pre-empt the
digital numbers about to read 06:30, sense the coming buzz to inform him
morning had arrived again. He clicked the alarm off before it could speak and
sat up in his bed.

There was a chill in the air but he
could see sunlight beyond the veil of his blinds. With a yawn he removed the
quilt and slid off the bed. Despite only being in a pair of pyjama bottoms, the
cold didn’t bother him too much. He went into his bathroom, took a piss,
brushed his teeth and stepped into a hot shower. Once he was done he fixed his
hair and dressed.

Over a plate of eggs, bacon and
sausages, he checked the news. The main news story was centred on a break in at
a house in Shadwell. The news presenter explained that no goods had been taken,
but the house had been severely damaged with large dents on the floors and
walls, broken windows and general chaos of strewn debris all across the garden
and street. The presenter also mentioned a strange black chemical found
splattered everywhere.

He growled angrily, picking up a
slice of bacon and tearing into it. The attack on the warehouse had left him on
edge. He was glad his apartment was in the same building as Richard’s, directly
below the Alpha’s penthouse. Lone wolves were a threat to his Alpha. They could
be after territory as well as goods to sell on the black market. It infuriated
him. He just wanted to catch one and get answers, get their full plan. Patrols
now had a split focus– demons and lone wolves.

Raven picked up his phone and
dialled.

“
Raven?
” the voice enquired
groggily.

“I have a job for you,” he said
with ice in his voice.

“
What is it?
” Damon asked–
voice still thick with sleep.

“Put the news on,” Raven said.

Damon did so. “
That’s not
werewolves
.”

“No.”

“
Demons?
”

“I think so. I want you to head
over there, try and pick up on demon scent.”

Damon was a gentleman of leisure,
having a hefty trust fund plus his pack salary to allow him such a lifestyle,
so Raven could count on his availability. Harold was on suspension and the
others would be working. There was no point disrupting their day until he knew
whether a disruption was necessary.

“Call me when you get there,” Raven
continued. “And I want regular updates.”

“
What about when you’re lecturing?
”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“
But it’s your first lecture of
the term
.” Damon sounded more awake.

“This is more important,” Raven
said sternly. “Contact me when you’re there.”

He hung up.

Once Raven had terminated the call,
Damon rushed out of bed and had a quick shower. He brushed his teeth and
skipped breakfast. He left his very expensive flat near Tate Modern, a gift
from his financially blessed parents, and called a taxi. “It’s the Silverman
account,” Damon said to the man who answered the phone.

The taxi arrived within minutes.
Damon texted Raven once he was inside the car and on his way to Shadwell.

Raven used the private line that
put him through direct to the Alpha. Only the Beta could use the private line.

“
Good morning, Raven.”
Richard
greeted him warmly.

“Good morning, sir. I have some
news for you.” Raven relayed what information he had.

“
I see
.”

“Shall I take the day off to allow
me to be with Damon?”

“
No
,
your education and time
at the university is valuable. Damon can handle this. Should a situation arise
then that is different.”

Raven didn’t argue. He wouldn’t, he
respected his Alpha and would never question his authority. Besides, he knew
how proud Richard was of his achievements to date.  Raven was a prodigy, so
advanced that he was lecturing part-time as part of his studies at the
university. He was the youngest lecturer, the youngest PHD student and the
youngest Beta. He’d achieved so much by the age of twenty-one, and he had the
Alpha to thank for his encouragement, for getting him there. But he couldn’t
help but feel that studying and performing the first year lectures was nothing
but a burden today. He wanted to be out with Damon, patrolling and hunting for
the demons.

“
When Damon contacts you, call
Maxwell. He can help.
” Richard instructed. “
Keep
me informed
,”
he added before terminating the call.

“Here ya go, mate,” the taxi driver
said, pulling over.

“Thank you very much,” said Damon.

“Look at all the Old Bill,” the
driver said, nodding in the direction of the police officers as Damon exited
the car.

“Indeed.”

The smell of demon hit him
immediately, wafting down from the house with all the police outside it. It was
disgusting, a stench of rot and acidic tones, with a whiff of spoiled milk. He
walked up as far as the barrier of crime scene tape. More crime scene tape ran
across the open door of the house and a very distressed woman stood talking to
a female officer while a male officer scribbled on a notepad.

Damon took in the mess he could see
from his position. The windows were broken. A black residue was splattered
across the brickwork and across the small garden. There was debris everywhere–
clothing, smashed televisions, shredded books and papers. It was worse than the
images shown on the news. 

“Terrible ain’t it?” said a
middle-aged woman who appeared beside him.

“It is.” He nodded.

“Awful to think this sort of thing
happens on your own doorstep.” She shook her head, tutting.

Another woman appeared, younger than
the first one.

“All right, Shaz?” the first woman
asked. “Would ya look at it?”

“I know it’s bloody scandalous, in
it?” said the second woman.

Both women had their arms tightly
folded as they watched the scene.

“Do you know if anyone was hurt?”
Damon asked.

“No,” said the first woman, “no one
was hurt. Just badly shaken up. Poor Kim and Mick, they must be in bits. And
their poor boys– three they’ve got.”

“That’s their home,” said the
second woman. “How could someone do that?”

“A bloody monster, that’s who,”
said the first woman.

If only you knew…
Damon
thought.

A man came out of the house,
ducking under the police tape, and hugged the woman being interviewed. Damon
heard her sob.

“Aw, look,” the first woman said,
welling up. “It’s so bleedin’ sad.” She sniffed. “I’m gonna have them over at
mine tonight. I’ll get George to put up the airbed and I’ll find somewhere for
those boys to sleep.”

“That’s lovely of ya, Barbra,” said
the second woman.

Damon left the two women to talk
and headed down the street away from the house. He dialled Raven.

Raven answered his phone as he
stood in the reception foyer at USL. The receptionist who had kissed him at
Rainbow Rave, Brandon, was not there. Instead the desk was manned by an overly
perky lady.

“Damon, what did you find?”

“Definitely demon, the smell was
awful.”

“Can you track it? Did it leave a
trail?”                        

“Kind of, it’s a bit all over
the place. I’m trying to pick out a clear trail to follow.”

“I’m going to contact Maxwell and
send him to help,” Raven said. “His shift at The Whisper isn’t until this
evening. He can use tracking spells should the trail fade. Wait for him first.
He’ll be able to identify the species too. I’ll call him now. Contact me when
he arrives there.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Morning!” Roman walked through the
main doors as Raven ended the call.

“What are you doing here?” Raven
asked, a little flummoxed.

“Oh I can see you’re happy to see
me.” Roman had a small rucksack hanging from his left shoulder. “I thought I’d
try and catch ya early, before I head off for work. I know you’re always here
early, so I thought I’d see if you fancied a cuppa in the cafeteria.” 

“You’re not a student. You’re not
really supposed to be taking tea in the university cafeteria.” Raven said
coolly.

“What about a café then?”

Raven sighed. “Not today, Roman.”
He ran a hand over his face as if to clear his head.

Roman’s eyes narrowed, instantly on
alert. “What’s happened?” 

Raven explained everything. Roman
listened, a slight frown on his face.

“Well this is just great. First the
rogues and now this. You going to brief the others yet?”

“Not yet. I’ll be in touch once
Damon’s done some tracking.” Raven lowered his voice as a couple of students
hurried past on their way to the first lecture of the day.

“Look, Roman, I need to go.”

“Oh, yeah, first lecture of the
term. Good luck, mate.”

“I have a feeling I’m going to need
it. With all the other things I have to think about I’ll be lucky if I don’t
start lecturing them on rogue wolves and demons by accident.” His lips twitched
in a small smile of amusement.

“Well, if you do it’ll be the most
interesting lecture of the day.”

“And probably my last.” He shook
his head. “I’ll call you as soon as I know more.”

“You sure you don’t want me to fill
Kris in? Make sure he’s good to go if the need arises?” Roman asked.

After a moment’s consideration
Raven nodded. There was no harm in letting him know what had happened, best if
he was on the alert. “Do that.”

“No problem, you can count on me.”
Roman began to back away.

“I know I can.” Raven said with
sincerity.

They turned and went their separate
ways.

The lecture theatre had cream walls
and a chocolate brown carpet covering the entire floor, snaking down the
sloping rows of seats towards the lower part of the theatre where the
lecturer’s desk and the large projector screen was situated. Students of all
ages sat and chatted, waiting for their lecturer to arrive.

“Good morning.” Raven’s voice
filled the theatre. The students quietened down. “My name is Raven Stonewall. I
will be with you once a week to discuss abnormalities in behaviour and the
social norms and consequences of such. All of that is my speciality – just
thought I’d get that in there.”

A hum of laughter followed.

 “Okay,” Raven continued. “What we
will start with is looking at the use of different paradigms to investigate
abnormality over the years. I will project some images and diagrams onto this
screen.” He clicked a button and the screen lit up. “And I will talk along as I
change the image. Please feel free to stop me and ask me any questions along
the way. I promise I won’t bombard you with too much on your first day. And we
could have a bit of a get to know you thread running through the session, just
to break it up a bit.”

“But before we start I need to make
sure you have all signed the roll call. If you haven’t then could you stick
your hand up and I’ll bring it to you. I’ll only do it the once so make it a
routine every session to sign in.” He laughed “It will confuse my focus if I
wander from student to student every session with a piece of paper.”

Raven relaxed a little. His first
lecture was going well and the second one that followed also went smoothly. At
least that was one less thing to worry about.

“It’s a projectile demon, a lower
demon,” said Maxwell, standing around the corner from the house in Shadwell
with Damon. They had found some traces of the black fluid away from the house.
Maxwell, with a rucksack full of warlock equipment which Damon had no clue
about, was analysing the fluid in a vial while uttering incantations in warlock
language.

“A projectile demon?” Damon said.
“Why is it called that?”

“They are sometimes known as vomit
demons,” said Maxwell, “but most warlocks now replace the vomit with
projectile. Same thing if you ask me.”

“So…they…”

“Vomit.” Maxwell wrinkled his nose.
“Spray that nasty black stuff everywhere. It will take months to get the smell
out”

“That is disgusting.”

Maxwell sighed heavily.

“What is it?” Damon asked.

“I’m pretty certain Raven’s hunch
was right.  This is definitely not a resident demon. It would have needed to be
summoned and as no summoning’s have been authorised in the last few weeks it
has to be an unlicensed summoning.”

“But why? I mean no one was hurt
or…taken, so what the hell was the point?”

Maxwell shrugged.  “Your guess is
as good as mine.  We need to report this to the council, they have their
investigators on it. I’m sure they’ll catch the guy doing this and then we’ll
have all our answers.”

“Could it be a legit summoning gone
wrong, in which case the summoner will have filed a loss of control report?”

“No summoning’s have been
authorised remember.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.”

Maxwell frowned. “I’m wondering if
it’s a coincidence that we get rogue wolf activity just as this demon activity
starts?”

“I’ll call Raven.” Damon pulled out
his phone and dialled.

“Is everything okay?”
Raven
answered the phone quietly.

“I have some information about the
demon.”

“Hold on, I will call you back”
Raven hung up.

Damon winced. “I must have
disturbed his lecture.”

Thirty seconds later, Damon’s phone
rang.
“I have three minutes,”
Raven said. Damon concisely explained
everything Maxwell had told him about the projectile demon.

“I’ll call Kris. Roman has
informed him of the situation already. He is to follow the trails with you.
Wait for him to arrive before following any trails.”