Ward of the South: The Ward Series, #1

By Cem Bilici

ACTION-PACKED MODERN DARK URBAN FANTASY WITH A KICK-ARSE FEMALE CHARACTER.

 

Stacey's boyfriend and girlfriend are missing. Taken from their Melbourne flat by the Umbra … dark shape-shifting creatures from another world who are supposed to be nothing but vermin, at least according to the strange man she finds in their home in her lovers' place.

 

Barely escaping death with the help of that mysterious man, who looks like a beach bum and calls himself a Ward, Stacey vows to find her missing lovers. Despite the impossible odds of finding Paul and Jasper alive, Stacey joins the secretive Wards in their battle against the Umbra.

 

But the Umbra are changing, and a dark figure is leading both their evolution, and their war against Earth and the other four realms of the Wards. To have any hope of finding her lovers and surviving, Stacey Trampler will need to fight the Umbra tooth and nail.

 

'Ward of the South' is the rollercoaster debut novel from Cem Bilici and the first action-packed story in The Ward Series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cem Bilici
• Release date: Nov 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9780648036166

Cem Bilici

Cem Bilici is an author and screenwriter of supernatural thrillers and fantasy adventures. Born in Adelaide, South Australia and of Turkish heritage, Cem lives with 1 dog -- Bucky the beaglier -- and 0 cats (that will likely never change), and a couple of humans. Cem is also an avid fan of horror films, video games, and heavy metal.

Book preview

ONE

The old streetlamp cast a puddle of pus-hued light into the mouth of the alley. Its plastic cover was cracked, yellowed, and filled with dried insects. Some flickered along with the electric hum of its electronics. Others buzzed around the rectangular fixture, which looked like it would probably fall off at the slightest breeze. Not that it would have made a difference. The light provided little comfort. It barely touched the dumpster by the stained and graffiti covered brick wall of a store at the corner of a small shopping strip.

Hayley stared at the fluorescent light from a distance, her leg jittering. She’d moved back and forth from the light all night. It was now more familiar than her own reflection, which she increasingly avoided as time wore on her.

Glimpses of her own ghost stared back at her with disapproval, reflected in the blank stares of closed store windows as she drifted to and from the lamp post. She dug at the back of her hand with her nails, the memories banished by the pain. For the moment.

The more she stared at the old light, the more alike she felt they were. Her nerves were its electric hum and flicker. The stained plastic cover was her skin, complete with cracks and blemishes.

Hayley sank deeper into the shadows of her hiding spot behind the tree, her breath pluming as a small car pulled up to the beaten dumpster.

A figure exited the car and glanced about the dark parking lot before making for the far side of the dumpster. In the headlights, the person was reduced to a silhouette after a brief splash of brightness.

Something under the car shifted and slithered.

Hayley rubbed her eyes. Sleep was calling and making her see things. But the other call was stronger, the hunger of a beast that needed constant feeding. Nothing was there.

She stepped from the shadows of the tree halfway across the lot, stepping over raised roots, the asphalt around it cracked like something was trying to escape the earth. She motioned the driver to follow her behind the dumpster.

The driver, a young woman the same age as Hayley, raised her chin sharply. Sup, she said with familiarity.

Hayley gave a small nod, as the newcomer hugged her body. Hey, Stacey.

That was some pretty Ninja shit. Out of the shadows, all in black.

Yeah, that’s me, Hayley said. Aussie ninja drug dealer. Got my cash?

Stacey handed over a few crinkled plastic notes. It would be so much easier if you took card.

Uh huh. For you, and the fuckin’ cops.

At least you’d be warm. I’m freezing my flaps off. How are you not?

Oh, I am. There are icicles on my fuckin’ nipple rings.

Stacey leered. Pierced nips. Nice.

Hayley stopped crushing the bills in her pocket and gave a short nod. Yeah. Hayley frowned and peered around Stacey. Who the fuck’s that in your car?

Oh. Just Tammy, and my work buddy, Justin.

Hayley shielded her eyes. She made out the second figure, Tammy, all in black. He looks like a narc, she said, focusing back on Justin.

Stacey scoffed. "He’s just antsy because he’s out with two hot chicks— Sorry, three hot chicks. She gave Hayley a wink. And afraid his girlfriend will skin him and wear his nut-sack as a hat if she finds out."

Hayley squinted at him a while longer, humming her disbelief to herself.

Plus, he thinks she’ll smell the weed on him. Stacey bounced on her toes and rubbed harder at her arms. Sooo… Speaking of.

Hayley blinked. Oh. Yeah. Here. She pulled a baggie from her over-sized pillow coat.

Stacey unrolled the bag, cracked open a corner, and poked her nose inside and took a deep breath. Oh yeah. That’s the shit. I feel warmer already. Cheers, big ears. Stacey held out her fist.

She looked Stacey over. Dressed in heeled boots, dark stockings and skirt, and a purple long-sleeved blouse, she was neat and clean.

Hayley’s track pants were frayed at the bottoms, and her sneakers hadn’t fared much better. How different their lives had been.

She gave Stacey’s fist a tap with her own, signalling the end of their conversation and transaction as Stacey walked away.

Hey, Stacey, Hayley said. The woman froze and turned back. How come we stopped hanging out?

Well, uh, when you dropped out of school you kinda fell off the grid. She gave an awkward shrug. And it wasn’t like we were BFFs or anything.

Sure. Okay. Have a good one.

The baggie crinkled as she waved it. Oh, we will. Catch ya next time.

Yeah, Hayley said so low only she could hear it. Next time.

As the car reversed and pulled away in a wide arc, Hayley put up her thick hood, pulling one side further forward to block the light and her face from the girl she used to think of as a friend. It couldn’t shield her from the pain in her chest, though.

Hayley slid further along the wall, leaned against the dumpster and pulled a pack from a different pocket as the taillights disappeared. She opened her cigarettes and, hands shaking, picked at the one that was butt down. Her lucky smoke.

Lighting it, she let out a deep sigh as the nicotine and the little something extra she’d added worked its magic. She replaced the lighter with her phone and tapped out a message for her pick-up, the response coming almost immediately for her to wait.

Fuckin’ arseholes! The dumpster gonged as slammed it with the side of her fist, then turned and kicked it.

As the gnawing within grew, she paced and bared teeth that were as yellow and damaged as the light above. She sucked in air with a hiss as a split fingernail drew blood.

Fuckin’ wankers. Leavin’ me here in the cold. I’ve got a right mind to…

It calmed her nerves a little to vent, but she knew there was nothing she could do. Drug dealers didn’t generally respond well to bad feedback. And she owed them. She would be cut off, or worse, something would be cut off her.

At least her ice-laved lucky cigarette took the edge off the craving, and sank in deeper as she took a longer drag and checked her social media accounts before boredom brought the craving for a real hit on stronger.

I swear, if they don’t fuckin’ come soon I’m gonna—

With a shriek, Hayley doubled over and reached for her foot. Something sharp was stuck… No, digging into her flesh.

Breath ragged, Hayley shifted weight to her opposing leg. She pulled at her injured foot, but the pain was white hot and unbearable, as if something was inching through the marrow of her leg bone.

This couldn’t be normal. Was she going into shock? Some sort of hallucination combined with withdrawal? Was it some sort of blood clot? Was this how she was going to die? How they’d find her? In a parking lot next to a dumpster, open-mouthed in a silent scream, wide-eyed, and having shat herself?

The pain intensified, snatching her breath away. She barely had enough air to let out a cry before her other foot exploded. Hayley gave a hoarse cry for help as her body began to crumple. Then she stopped herself, frozen in fear.

Something was wriggling out of the tops of her shoes.

Hayley shuddered as she tried to move out of the path of the sickly light to see, but her body wouldn’t obey. Then she remembered the phone still in her hands. Her fingers trembled as she worked at the screen, desperate to find the flashlight. She screamed as it buzzed in her hands, almost dropping it.

Unknown Caller. Her dealer.

She hit screen to answer the call and put it on speaker. Help! W— Something’s wrong! I need—

Chill the fuck out, bitch! We’re here.

Headlights swung over her.

A choked scream dribbled from Hayley’s lips as she saw the things holding her in place. The phone slipped from fingers as they turned to jelly.

A mass of alien black worms wriggled through the tops of her tatty sneakers. Blood ran through the gaps in the paving stones beneath her, the worms slithering in the streams like they were drinking it up.

It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real… she muttered, her cracked lips wet.

The car screeched to a halt ahead of her and the horn let out three angry blasts as she stayed rooted to the spot. She couldn’t move. The worms dug through her flesh, worked under her clothes to slither over her skin. Her head juddered as she turned it to the car, lip trembling as she attempted to cry out for help, but none was coming.

Hayley let out a hiccough of fear as something dark leaped from the back seat of the car. It was the same stuff as the worms, but huge, almost as big as a man. Blood sprayed the windshield as tendrils grew from it and whipped about. With a crack, a face struck the passenger window repeatedly until the glass exploded.

Her wide-eyed gaze was torn from the car as the worms surged through and around her, fire lancing her nerves. She could feel them under her jacket and T-shirt, their searching touch sending her body into violent shudders.

The crumpling of metal drew her attention back to the car. A gurgle clogged her throat.

The black mass oozed through cracks in the windshield, arcing out like a leak in slow motion. But as they touched the engine cover, they seemed to turn to liquid. Instead of flowing off the car, the black pool gathered. Then rose to form a figure.

Eyes emerged from the black crude and fixed on her. A runny slit opened, then collapsed inward to become a mouth. The thing smiled, and watched Hayley in amused fascination as the worms now encased her body.

The scream Hayley finally released was cut short as the things surged into her mouth, the vile stuff tasting of earth and blood.

There was a crack like a gunshot or a high voltage electric spark as the worms filled her nostrils, tickled her eyelashes. Then the car was in sheets of flame. The man in shadow strode with purpose toward her. He lifted his hand, palm up. Before the worms flowed over her eyeballs and under the lids, something glinted in the light of the flaming car. A gold pendant in the shape of an eye stared back at her, seeming to glow brighter.

The light expanded even though she couldn’t see. This had to be the light that people talked about when they died. What they usually didn’t talk about in their near-death experiences was a stench of burning worms and flesh.

Hayley didn’t think she’d be telling anyone about hers.

The firelight faded to darkness along with her pain.

TWO

Come on. You know you want it. I only want to stick the tip in, baby!

Stacey shook her head. Oh, God.

Justin glanced around the car, then at Stacey in the rearview mirror. I, uh—

Tammy was kneeling on the passenger seat, arm slung around the driver’s seat, eyes locked on Jamie in the rear. You know you want it, she said in her Californian accent.

Stacey’s seat tilted back as Tammy leaned on it. Reaching over, she slapped at Tammy’s rump. Sit the fuck down, you horn-dog bitch! You’re going to get us pulled over or make me crash. She swapped hands on the wheel and swiped at her playlist on her phone.

Tammy waggled the fat joint she had rolled. I’m just trying to show Justin a good time. Pop his cherry.

Justin gave a nervous laugh. My cherry’s been popped, thanks.

Not by me, sugar. I gave this one a good lickin’. And once you go black, you never go back. She winked at him. And there’s nothing blacker than a Goth’s heart.

So, uhh— Justin stammered. You’re, uhh…

You’re scaring him, Tammy, Stacey said.

Nah-uh, she said. He’s just mesmerised by my hot Asian tits, and bootylicious ass! Tammy pumped her pencil thin, pierced eyebrows at Stacey.

You? Bootylicious? Hah! Stacey slapped the wheel in laughter. You’re not even half of me! I think, oh bony-arsed-one, he’s referring to your scene look.

"Scene? Bitch, I will cut you! Then I’ll have Justin all to myself, right, babydoll?"

Stacey’s eyes flitted to the rearview at Justin’s open-mouthed expression and she chuckled. She hoped after subjecting him to Tammy he would stop following her around like a love-sick puppy at work.

I, uhhh… Justin leaned to pick something up. Oh, hey, Stacey! When’s angry-lesbians-on-wheels start again? he said, voice cracking through his awkward grin as he held the roller derby skate aloft.

Tammy’s brows raised again as her mouth became an O and she turned around in her seat.

Stacey screwed her face and gave Tammy the finger. Roller derby, Justin! she said, voice stern. It’ll be back in a few months. Well, at least training will. I have to make the team first.

I can’t wait! Justin said.

Me neither, Tammy said, voice full of sarcasm. I love seeing Stacey going down hard. Am I right, Justy?

Stacey saved the wide-eyed and stunned boy by putting on the first song she could find.

They entered the dark shed in Tammy’s parents’ yard, keys ringing in her hands as she fumbled for the light switch.

Welcome to The Pit of Hell, Justin! Tammy said, voice full of drama as she held her arms high and turned a slow circle. Now… Let us commemorate your initiation by getting this bad boy lit and gettin’ nekkid!

Justin gave Stacey a sidelong stare as she went for the old fridge in the corner and pulled out a beer for them each then flopped on an old couch.

Where the fuck are Jasper and Charlie? Tammy said as she took her bottle, then clicked insistently at Stacey. Give me your hot-pink bits, would ya?

Who knows, Stacey said, lifting her rear to pull a hot-pink disposable lighter from her pocket and tossing it to Tammy to light up the joint.

So, this is where the magic happens, Justin said, peering around.

Oh yeah, baby, Tammy said around the blunt between her lips, eyelids hooded. I make the dark magic happen all night long. There, she pointed at a spot on the old, thick rug as she put her beer down and unlatched a guitar case and lifted her bass out. On the couch. Sometimes just walking around. Tammy slung the strap, then thrust her hips against the guitar. All. Fucking. Night.

Stop dry humping and start tuning that bass, dumbarse, Stacey said.

Who says I’m dry? Tammy winked at Justin, who shook his head and took a swig of beer. Here, hold this, sweet cheeks.

He took the joint from her and puffed it cautiously.

Stacey swigged a good amount of her beer, then checked her phone and went for her own guitar. Still nothing.

The fuck’s taking them so long? Tammy barked. We have our first gig in a few weeks.

Jasper’s hanging with Paul, Stacey said, but she said she’d be here. Charlie… Well, you know Chuzza. Stacey used the nickname she’d given their drummer. She’s off with the faeries half the time.

Your boyfriend and… uh, housemate? Justin asked.

Stacey grunted back.

Wait, did you say they were hanging or banging? Tammy said, laughing.

Justin licked his lips, lowering his eyes.

Stacey extended her middle finger at Tammy as she turned to him. It’s okay, dude. Tammy knows about Paul, Jasper, and me.

Justin relaxed. Oh, okay. Phew. Justin wiped non-existent sweat from his brow. I’m so used to not talking about it at work, you know? Your… arrangement.

I know. And I appreciate it. Pretty sure how work would take the whole poly thing.

No fucking idea why, Tammy said, grinning. I mean, triangles are hot, but squares are hotter.

No, Tammy, Stacey said.

Tammy pouted at Justin. Bummer. And here was me finding my plus one and everything. Tammy glanced around. "Well if they’re not coming— Or cumming…"

She unplugged her bass and placed it atop the hard case, then dropped onto one of the old couches covered in throw blankets and pillows. She pulled up her long black dress and tucked it between her thighs as she slung them over the arm of the seat and kicked them casually. She reached for the joint from Justin, brushing his fingers as she did.

Stacey shook her head and rolled her eyes as she collapsed back onto her spot. Without Jasper, their rhythm guitarist, or Charlie, there’d be no band practice. Annoyed, she tipped back her beer. She had another and plenty of pot before Justin got up from his seat.

I, uh, should probably get going, Justin said, checking his phone for the millionth time that night.

Aww, Tammy said, her lower lip curling. You can totally crash here you know. I have the perfect me-shaped blanket to keep you warm at night.

Okay, say goodnight, Tammy. Stacey groaned the words out as she stood and grabbed her keys.

Goodnight, Tammy, Tammy said in a baby voice.

Stacey held her fist out to Tammy at an angle, her pinkie and forefinger extended in the infamous sign of the devil horns. Tammy transferred her beer to her left hand and mirrored her so they could bump fists—Stacey’s patented metal-fist-bump.

Stacey stretched her back. Oof. All my fat curves have realigned to the wrong places.

Don’t say that, Stacey, Justin said. You’re not fat.

Aww, Tammy said, giggling as the two walked to the door. Hey, Justin? She lifted her hand, fingers formed into devil horns. "Aren’t you going to fist me up before you go-go?"

Bye, Tammy! Stacey said, dragging Justin behind her.

As they left, Tammy sang corrupted lyrics to the classic pop song as she rolled another joint.

By the time Stacey pulled into the parking lot to her block of flats, she was beyond pissed.

They’d been practising hard and honing their image as an all-girl thrash metal band over many months and finally booked a gig. It was no time for half the band to be AWOL.

Stacey pulled into her space in the parking lot, and her jaw clenched as Paul’s little scooter came into view. She knew he would have talked Jasper into staying home. Probably in bed. Jasper was a soft touch, and Paul? Well, he was Paul. He would bat his lashes and make puppy dog eyes, and Jasper would cave.

As much as she hated to admit it, Stacey had pulled the same routine herself, so she knew it was true. Living the polyamorous life had its challenges, she’d discovered.

She gritted her teeth against the onslaught of mushy emotions and ran through the angry words she would use as she climbed the echoing staircase.

Stacey jumped as the automatic lights came on and a handful of bizarre cockroaches almost half the size of her hand scrambled away. They disappeared out of the light through gaps in the ’70s-patterned breeze block wall. Their black bodies had been splashed with blood-red stains, and their legs and antenna looked like wriggling worms, but Stacey was sure it had to be a trick of the sudden light.

With an involuntary shiver, she continued her climb, and focused on laying down the law for the sake of their band—Pussy Whipped Cream—then let out a grunt of frustration and stopped. She’d forgotten her guitar in the back of the car.

She’d get it later, she decided, after taking care of business.

Stacey pushed open their front door. The silence and dark smacked her in the face. Had they gone out or were they in bed again?

She slammed the door behind her, dropping her keys, purse, and phone as noisily as she could in a bowl on a narrow table by the door. Doing her best to be as loud as possible, she slapped the wall, purposefully fumbling for the light switch and hitting it as hard as she could.

Stacey jumped with a shriek as the light came on.

A strange man sat in one of their armchairs, facing the door. He was scruffy, had on a crumpled Hawaiian shirt, aged khaki cargo shorts, and old brown leather sandals.

What the fuck? Stacey took a step forward. Who the fuck are you?

Sit, and be quiet, the stranger said, his accent and voice like a British banker’s. He motioned to her couch.

The fuck I will. She jabbed her whole arm at the door. Get the fuck out of my house! Taking a step back and leaning away from the man, she frowned. Paul? Jasper?

No one is here, the bum said, undoing one the many pockets on his shorts. He pulled out a long brass bullet and laid it on the arm of the chair.

Stacey eyed it.

You recently visited a woman and two men in a parking lot. He reached into the same pocket and produced a tarnished brass cigarette case. He placed it behind the bullet before he lifted the lid and pulled out a self-rolled cigarette.

Despite appearances, his manner of speech said he was anything but a bum. His short-cropped thinning hair was blond streaked with grey, cut by himself judging by the shoddiness of the work. His intense eyes were milky grey-blue. A weird chunky gold amulet hung around his neck, the only outward sign of his being something other than poor. Stacey was too wired to care about his bling, though.

What men? she said. All I care about is—

Were you in a parking lot this evening or not?

Stacey straightened her back. What if I was? You a cop? You don’t look like one.

The bum picked up the bullet, a smirk on his lips. Not quite. With a twist, he screwed off the point.

Stacey took a step back.

The bum flicked his thumb on the bullet, and a flame leaped to life. He lifted the cigarette to his lips.

Stacey moved around the seats to check the rooms, leaving a good distance between herself and the bum. Paul’s room was empty and messy, but that was normal. Jasper’s room was also empty, in its usual neat-freak tidy.

Stacey stalked back into the lounge room and glared at the stranger, keeping a coffee table between them. She was angry, stoned, and drunk. Not stupid.

Where are they, you sick fuck? Her voice was almost a growl with the menace it held.

I said, sit.

She pushed her shoulders back and stood taller, nostrils quivering as they flared. I’m not fucking sitting so just tell me where my boyfriend and girlfriend are. Stacey stormed around the old coffee table and towered over the bum. I swear to God, if you’ve done anything to them—

The room suddenly dimmed, and her gaze shot to the bulb as it brightened, blinding her. As she lifted her hand to her eyes, the bum jumped from the seat. He ploughed his shoulder into her gut, knocking the wind out of her with the rugby tackle, and flung them both into the back of the couch, rolling with the impact.

The old frame of the sofa cracked against the hard floor as it came with them. There was a bright flash and a loud pop and the light went out.

A strobing, haloed purple spot the shape of the bulb obstructed Stacey’s vision. She’d been facing the light when it blew. Blinded, she blinked furiously and fought the bum off, slapping and punching wildly until his grip weakened enough for her to escape and scoot away on her rear.

The bum came after her, a menacing black and purple shadow as she scrambled to her feet and ran for the door. A tight grip on her ankle stopped her, tripping her as the bum yanked. Her hands broke her fall, but the breath was knocked from her still. Stacey slid across the tiled floor as he pulled her toward him then was on her. A rough, calloused hand smothered her mouth and nose as the other clamped on the back of her neck.

The bum pulled her close. Shhh, he whispered in her ear.

Breath ragged, heart punching her ribs, Stacey sat as still as she could, her hands shaking on the back of his. The smell of dirt on his skin filled her nostrils, conjuring visions of her lovers laying in shallow graves.

The bum shushed her again and eased her up until she had a view over the fallen couch, guiding her by the back of the neck. The hand on her nape peeled away, her hair sticking to his rough skin as he pointed skyward.

Stacey glanced along his arm and finger, and her mouth fell open.

A dark, tarry substance leaked from the shattered bulb on the ceiling, coalescing above the coffee table. It drooped halfway to the surface, formed into a pulsing sac hanging by a leprous cord that appeared to feed its growth. The sac had the appearance of a diseased organ. Its wet skin, the colour of slimy black rotting flesh. As her vision returned more fully, nuanced detail stood out. The surface was almost smoky, ephemeral dark colours roiling in slow motion within.

A golf ball sized boil formed on one side of the sac, then popped. A stalk with a lidless eye as big as her fist at its end squeezed out of the burst skin and scanned the room. As it swung in their direction, the bum pulled Stacey down, putting a cautionary finger to his lips.

He removed the hand from her mouth as she nodded.

Her chin trembled and she swallowed. What the fu—

The creature emitted a high screech and the bum huffed a sigh through his nostrils, closing his eyes in frustration.

Together, Stacey and the bum peered over the couch. She watched the creature in horrified fascination.

A wide lipless mouth had formed to emit the sound. Lashing tendrils whipped deep in the maw as the chasm filled with needle teeth, like a school of squid had inked in the mouth of a mutant shark. It gnashed its newly formed jaws, mewling.

Fuck me! Stacey said.

The umbilical severed, and the creature dropped to the table, two backward-hinged legs ending in clawed feet emerging as it fell. It made a phlegmy bark at them, then leaped from the coffee table.

The bum pushed Stacey and rolled away as the creature cleared the couch. It scrambled on the tiled floor, its thick claws clicking against the hard surface as it careened into the wall. It would have made for a comical moment, especially given its resemblance to one of the two main characters from the film Monsters Inc. But the creature imploded, turning inside out to face them once more. Its stalked eye swung left and right, then fixed on Stacey.

She fled the oncoming nightmare on hands and knees as it sped after her, hissing. She rolled and thrust the thick, high heel of her work Doc Martens into its face, glad she’d not had the time to change them out for her regular flat pair.

The large eye burst with a wet pop. The creature howled as juices splashed over the purple leather of her boot.

Yeah, fuck you, Mike Killzowski! Stacey shouted at the creature before rolling to escape, but something held her.

The gore from the creature’s eye had changed into lashing black worms that wrapped around her boot and ankle. She shook her foot, but the black worms kept stretching and climbing her leg.

Hey! the bum shouted, crouched on the floor, holding his amulet high.

A crack of light from the window lit the gold as is swung, revealing a strange, almost Egyptian eye.

A handful of new eye stalks shot from the creature’s rear, all trained on the bum. Its flesh rippled as if it were bristling fur. It made a noise somewhere between the growl of a dog and the rumble of an angry cat and turned for him. Releasing Stacey, it rushed at the bum and launched, bursting into a mass of whips and clawed tentacles that wrapped around his offending arm, torso, and head.

Stacey knew it was crazy, but rushed to help him.

She froze.

A second creature ejected from the light bulb. Like Mike Killzowski—as she could only think of the creature now she’d named it—the second dropped to the coffee table. As it stood tall, it stared at Stacey with two forward facing eyes. They were the eyes of a predator.

The eyes of a man.

Perfect white teeth gleamed as a smile cracked the blackness of its still forming face. It was like a living shadow of a man, made from the same stuff as the first monster, which flew by Stacey to crash into the Shadow Man’s chest as a crack like an electric shotgun went off, sending both monsters tumbling to the floor.

Stacey turned to the bum panting by her side, his face and arms red with scratches.

Time to leave, he said.

She pointed at the front door with a shaky hand.

Black masses covered the handle and door jamb, the stuff rippling as it spread.

He roughly hooked his arm around her waist. Hold on.

Wait! Stacey said, thinking he meant to crash them through the door or a window.

The Shadow Man and his pet were up and moving toward them. She turned to warn her would-be saviour, and immediately regretted it.

His eyes were clouded over with swirling blackness, like ink drops in a sink being drained,