A Forge of Killers: Worlds Beside, #3

By J E Cammon

Steeler's Mill is a peculiar place, the kind where people go to forget, the kind where people go to be forgotten. A landscape of hollow homes and forsaken factories, there are plenty of places to hide for the broken souls of the disremembered neighborhood. But that isn't why Jarvis chose the little town as his new haunt. The vampire had to leave Charm City, and he was promised Steeler's Mill would be safe for him. What he wasn't told about is the reason why the Mill is so good at making people lost. He meets Liam, the mysterious fixer and his apprentice, Piper. The pair saves people, but what they save people from is stranger than anyone might have guessed. And this crisis is going to force the dead man back into the world of the living yet again. The vampire makes for a peculiar savior, but then again, what are good and evil in the face of forever?

• Language: English
• Publisher: J E Cammon
• Release date: Apr 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393898542

Book preview

A Forge of Killers

Worlds Beside, Volume 3

J E Cammon

Published by J E Cammon, 2020.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

A FORGE OF KILLERS

First edition. April 3, 2020.

Copyright © 2020 J E Cammon.

ISBN: 978-1393898542

Written by J E Cammon.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

A Forge of Killers (Worlds Beside, #3)

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Prologue

Piper nestled her finger against the trigger and squeezed gently. The drill bit animated laconically, spinning slowly in a clockwise direction. Righty tighty, lefty loosey, she thought. Piper dipped a finger into her tool belt and retrieved a long screw, then fed the bit into the x-shaped groove. After placing the hinge against the wood, she paused, looking over at the uninstalled door leaning against a nearby wall. She turned her head, trying to reorient the door in her mind.

Looks fine to me, a voice said from down below her shoulders. The shop owner, Minny, looked up at Piper, a smile beneath her weathered features. You know what he’d say. The old fortune teller was reading her mind again.

I know, Piper said. Just do it. If it’s wrong, then take it apart and start over, she mimicked a deeper, harsher voice. Piper glanced at the old woman, who shuffled over to her new door and opened the mail slot.

So, why fret? Minny closed the slot again, and opened it again, over and over like the door was talking to her.

An hour later, Piper was done. Liam had constructed the door himself, so it came with the guarantee that it wouldn’t break like the old one. Piper felt good watching the tiny woman open and close her new door; Minny was ancient by all accounts, but had a child-like enthusiasm over the most mundane things. She giggled as she fiddled with the lock.

And you only had to start over once, the little woman said, finally turning around.

Piper nodded. It felt good to be done, but she executed the job clumsily.

Yeah. Piper still had to look down to make sure she was slipping the screw gun into a belt loop and not just dropping it on the floor. For a moment, she put her weight on one leg and put her hands at her belt, posing like Liam did.

Funny. You were here all morning with my place wide open, and no one came by.

A moment later, hard, rapid knocks came at the door.

Piper frowned, removing her belt and feeding it into a duffel bag. Behind her, she heard the door open.

Take a breath, child, Minny’s door didn’t have a peep hole because of a lack of height and a lack of need.

Piper? Piper, and a hand was at Piper’s shoulder, grabbing. Reflexively, she snaked a hand at the wrist and applied torque, twisting the assailant into a kneeling posture. She stared down into Flint’s face.

Flint? What the, but he was talking too fast.

We need your help you don’t know how he is when you ain’t around but you could probably imagine we need you to-

Piper clamped her other hand over the man’s mouth. Piper wanted to apologize to Minny, but the short old woman was staring at Flint’s back, a bit surprised. What is it?

Minny worked her mouth silently as if reading. Nothing too big, child, but there is a messenger. I think you better go with him, and finally she looked up into Piper’s face. She grabbed onto the knob of her new door and opened it even wider. Piper released Flint and zipped up her bag.

During the quick walk home, two others from the neighborhood joined them. They were worried, too, and behind Piper, they compared their stories in a frenzy. Flint was an addict; he was haunted and hounded, so was appropriately skittish. But everyone in the neighborhood was privy to strange things or had come from strange places. The police hardly ever came around, so if anyone needed anything, they went to Liam’s. And if anyone wanted Liam to do anything for them, they went to Piper.

When they finally came within sight of the house, two stories with reddish brick on all sides, constructed sturdily on top of a full basement, Piper could see that a handful of others like Flint were waiting outside. As she got nearer, she recognized their faces as well, and what had plagued each of them in their past lives: alcohol, drugs, voices, demons of all different kinds. They had met real terrors and survived them, but they still waited at the bottom of the cement stairs on the cracked sidewalk.

The brownstone’s backyard was filled with old, lifeless machines and from almost anywhere in the neighborhood, sounds from the workshop built into the basement could be heard at almost any time of day. It was commonly believed that Liam didn’t sleep, or blink. Though the workshop was best accessible from the backyard, people went through the front because it was also common knowledge that the junkyard was alive with traps. Piper walked to the top of the stairs, dropped her bag, then wheeled on the group, throwing her hands up for silence.

Alright, I’m going inside. Can someone maybe give me a summary? All of you are here for the same thing, I assume, she started. She had to raise her voice over the sounds from the basement and also to project for the group. Wild-eyed, Flint and the others quickly spoke between themselves.

The dead are back in the Mill, Flint said. He clamped his mouth shut, audibly clicking his teeth. He wanted to say more, but that was enough.

Piper nodded, then turned her back and opened the door to walk inside. The noise intensified as she found the inside stairs and hurried down.

Liam was not a large man, just a little bigger than average. What mostly gave him his imposing dimensions was how he did things, how he said things. Piper found him standing over a work table, holding a grinder against a large piece of steel that looked like a classic car fender. Sparks were shooting off in an arc of bright-orange, but he wasn’t wearing goggles or using earplugs. A piece of slag errantly landed on his boot and melted through the leather into the steel toe. With one hand pressed against her ear, she slapped him hard on the back with the other, and then took a step away. Liam lifted his head and turned off the grinder. He turned around, his expression fierce. As was typical, he had a week’s worth of beard growth sprouting around the scars on his face; his eyes were bloodshot.

Silas is back, she said. A quiet moment passed with the end of the tool spinning to idle, and then Liam sat the grinder next to his work and stepped over to a special corner of his shop. He replaced his tool belt with a different belt adorned with tools for different work. Piper went and proudly fetched a large axe.

Stay here, Liam ordered.

You said I couldn’t come unless I had a weapon, and that I couldn’t use any of yours, and she gestured at her craftsmanship. Sharpening the weapon had taken about ten times longer than she thought. Getting an edge was easy, but honing to an edge that was worth anything was arduous work. There may have been more argument if he had slept at all in the past week. Instead, he stared at her, like he’d be extremely angry if she went and died. Then he walked for the back door. Piper followed; for months she had been asking him to take her on one of his hunts, which followed years of her thinking about asking. Finally, he had given her slight accommodation, thinking that she wouldn’t go through with the chore of making her own weapons.

The smile dropped from her face, though, when Liam flung the back door open. There, at the top of the stairs leading to the backyard, was Silas. Unlike last time, though, he did not look frightening and powerful. Piper had watched the most recent clot of skirmishes of Liam and Silas through antique binoculars. Ultimately, the vampire had fled after several of his haunts were firebombed and a good number of his followers were decapitated. However, he had not retreated without making a variety of bloody promises. Standing in their backyard, he looked ridiculous with a dark overcoat draped over his head. His skin was peeling and cracking, and he looked nauseous.

Whoa, wait now, he yelled in his Midwest accent. Liam stopped an instant before running him through. Piper hadn’t moved at all; the axe proved to be too slow for quick reactions. Peace, sanctuary, all that. I come on bloodless and harmonious terms, he protested, but did not stop Liam from grabbing him around the throat and better positioning one of his slashing implements. Liam did not strike, though; he looked down at Piper, who swallowed.

So, what are you doing here? she asked the vampire. Even with Liam’s hand squeezing around his windpipe, when Silas spoke, his voice was unaffected.

Like I said, asylum. That’s what you do, you help people.

People, Liam interrupted him.

We help people, Piper echoed his sentiment. Without air or vocal chords the corpse Silas laughed.

You know, I believe this is a rare opportunity for perspective. You always thought I was so bad, but things have changed. You will note I’m here alone, Piper could see Liam’s hand experimentally squeeze tighter. Silas seemed either not to notice or care. As usual, the talking was left to her.

Just spit it out, Silas,

Someone worse is here. Much worse. My boys are all gone. All of them. I’m all alone, and Piper stared into his dead eyes. It was difficult to judge them sincere or false.

Worse. Worse how? she fished. Like you?

No, not like me at all, darling. Death himself has come to Steeler’s Mill. Strangely, in Liam’s grip, Silas shook his head.

Chapter 1

Jarvis lost track of how long the trip took, and during, he had found the steady rhythm of the railroad sounds to be like the heartbeat he’d eschewed. The train rolled along with determination in the direction of a new place, a safe place; the man named the Count had ensured it. The bargain had been struck with Jarvis performing the required task as payment. The vampire was also given a glass vial as an offering, empty except for a message for the steward of the next place Jarvis would be haunting. And that was all.

The train car was near to full with crates bound for some distant destination. Jarvis waited in the back, silent and motionless. Sometimes sunlight would strike at him through holes in the side of the car, sharp swords of life-giving light; sometimes the light was that of the moon and its stars. Every now and again the train would creep to a stop in some unknown somewhere and cars were loaded, or unloaded, added, or taken away. The Count had told him that his car would be safe; until he reached the place called Steeler’s Mill, it would be safe.

The musician had said nothing about the occasional transient that would stealthily slide the door open and roll inside. During the duration of the journey, there were three in all. They all looked different, had dissimilar clothes and eyes, hands and scars. Jarvis wondered if their stories were different, as well, or if there were not so many different ways to have ended up on that train, in that car. Each of them seemed to suffer from the same nightmares. Distantly, Jarvis wished just a little bit that one of them was someone he knew. He missed the conversations.

But finally he had reached the place called Steeler’s Mill. The train stopped, and in his hand the small vial lolled back and forth, spun gently like it had its own will and desires. Jarvis slid the door open and inspected his new haunt. In the night, from the train yard, the place looked the same as Charm City. For a moment, he wondered at maybe seeing David, or even Nick, and thought it would have been nice. As he walked, Jarvis discovered new things and they spoke that this was not the place he had haunted for so long. Before him, birds took flight, rats scurried, and other night keeping animals skittered from his path.

A bit of time passed before he stopped in the street, sensing others like him. They were many, but weaker. The sensation blossomed into a memory in his mind. The last time Jarvis had sensed so many young ones he was still inexperienced himself. There had been a great convening. Some who attended believed in a solitary way of things, while others thought that grouped together was the best way to persist. Jarvis’ only opinion was that Charm City was his, and all those who disagreed would either flee or perish. He had fought and destroyed so many, and in the end it was for nothing. Charm City was not his; he had simply held it for an extended period. More so than strength, adaptability proved to be the most useful trait. Things would be different this time.

Jarvis came upon these new young ones like he had those unnamed others. There was no conversation and no quarter. Some of them had no idea at how to use their strength; most had no strength at all to use. He had lost his sword, which he supposed was appropriately symbolic, but the string of charms and stones made for a much more efficient killing implement. Skin contact seemed to be the only requisite, and then what was him became connected with what was them. After that, it was a simple matter of reaching and taking. He spread himself wide and tall and smothered them, assimilating their shadows into his darkness. They were snuffed out like candles, dozens of them. When it was done, the place was quiet and Jarvis surveyed the location. It was long and wide and filled with dust, machines, and now bodies. Memory flared to life again; for a moment it was snowing and his vision was filled with David’s hunting eyes.

Focusing, he could confirm his earlier thinking. The others were so young that decay did not touch them. Most of their bones remained festooned in flesh as time found them again. Soon there would be carrion feeders about, seeking scraps. On one of the machines, Jarvis found a suitable, shovel-like tool and removed it from its mooring. The machine did not complain much and watched him dig a ditch of graves, shaped like a circle. The work was time consuming, and it was dawn before the holes had been filled and covered over. Still, what few windows the place had were covered suitably. Jarvis had not found a substantial member of the fallen, but if they had a leader, they would either leave, or they would perish. Jarvis would not take the whole city this time. He would take only what he needed. That path of ambition was meant for the likes of Nick and his treacherous dean. In the center of the circle of dead, he pushed the shovel into the cement floor and left it. Once again, outside, he could feel the light of the sun willing the world to live, but it bothered him not at all.

Time proceeded in stops and starts; the congruous flow of the blowing wind and city borne animals was broken and suddenly he could hear people approaching the haunt. Seeing with different eyes, as Dr. Tomohiro had instructed, Jarvis could make out the august fires of their human souls, flickering lively on their still wicks. He could almost reach out and waver them, maybe even blow them gone, but he simply grasped at a different piece of machinery and prepared for their arrival. Just like with the fallen in their graves, the living of his new home would also have to be given introduction.

Only two of them came inside, a small number compared to those that waited outside. They were dressed in a modern fashion. One was draped in all sorts of weaponry and stalked confidently. The other wasn’t armed at all, but at that range, Jarvis could see what his weapons were: he was potent enough to be the missing leader of the living dead.

So? the living one whispered to the vampire.

Well he’s definitely here,

I don’t suppose you have a more exact location,

No, not really,

Useless, an angry rasp from the living man.

You know that feeling in your stomach that makes the hairs on your neck stand up? That’s what it is, I’m just more sensitive to it, except it’s everywhere.

Jarvis inspected them at closer range, taking a moment to peer into those outside before announcing himself.

I seek Liam, Jarvis said. At the noise, both visitors reacted quickly. The other vampire was cautious, retreating to a moderate distance, while the man was recklessly and immediately violent. However, it was one of those times David would say was not for killing. Weapons sluggishly jabbed at Jarvis as the man swung and lunged. Jarvis watched the weapons fly through the air like spoons scooping through honey, then stepped forward and pushed with the palm of his hand. The man fell backwards, rolling then sliding across the dusty floor. The second trespasser showed Jarvis his palms.

Wait. Stop, and he gestured at the fallen man, who was, impressively, standing back up. You seek Liam? There, that’s Liam, right there.

The man named Liam stalked forward, pointing with a sword. A bit of red spilled down his cheek.

Why are you here? he asked. The man’s voice came from ardent depths. Jarvis reached a hand into a pocket and revealed the empty vial. The man named Liam did not immediately understand, then slowly, slowly recognition played across his features. Something quiet and almost forgotten that Jarvis recognized as hope spurted a bit in the man named Liam. It was so out of place, it appeared like disbelief in his features. After a moment, he switched his focus from Jarvis to the vial and back. Where did you get that? he asked.

The Count, Jarvis replied, stepping forward, the vial held between a thumb and index finger.   Liam could not accept it without relinquishing his grasp on one of his weapons. The man seemed to be rapidly weighing scales.

"He said