Dark Shard 8. The Fall of Ozod’s Black Shadow
I spent three hours on the chase. More accurately, I ran out of steam much earlier but kept going on sheer willpower and a burning desire to kick that cheeky spider demon right in its vile, jagged maw. But I had to admit that my two scrawny legs just couldn’t compete in a long-distance run against its six massive spider limbs.
I didn’t want to resort to extreme measures, but it seemed like this was precisely the situation where they were unavoidable. I stopped abruptly, listening to the fading thud of the spider’s legs. Run, run, your time is short, you furry piece of crap.
Looking around, I saw the evening outskirts of the city, dried-up hogweed thickets, garage arrays, and a pipeline in the distance. Far off, the monstrous hive of new residential complexes glowed. But it was lonely, dreary, and dark around me — only a single leaning, wind-swayed lamp post illuminated the potholed road washed out by rain.
I stood in the center of the trembling circle of yellow light, lifting my face to the sky. A nasty sleet began, its tiny drops insolently bursting on my forehead and trickling into my wide-open eyes. Well, let it rain. My clothes would be ruined anyway, so it didn’t matter if they got soaked.
I focused on breathing, maintaining my stance, facing the downpour turning into thick streams. It was like the trendy meditation nowadays, but not for enlightenment or managerial efficiency — this was for demonic deeds. Though, the difference wasn’t significant.
Inhale — exhale slowly. Breathe in and out. I calmed the rush of thoughts, cleared my mind, and directed a narrow beam of consciousness inward.
“Hello.” “Greetings.” “Would you not mind going for a walk?” “I can, but should I?” “It’s crucial; I can’t handle it without you.” “Alright, little one, I’ll help. Will you let me stretch afterward?” “I can hardly refuse. Stretch away. But please, bring us back home by morning, okay?” “Deal, little one.”
The drizzle turned into an absolute downpour, an endless cascade pouring from the black skies, faintly lit by the distant city. The rain streams blurred the dark figure standing in the light of the lone lamp post on a country road amidst ugly, bushy thickets.
The lamp flickered, growing more frequent. The rain around the figure spiraled, merging into large droplets, each reflecting the lamp’s amber light. The chaotic motion turned into a slow dance, a performance, a magnificent yet eerie water cabaret.
The shadowy figure within the water vortex became harder to discern, but it was no longer human-like. Smoky outlines swayed menacingly, sending tendrils of darkness in all directions. The spectacle lasted a couple of minutes before the figure solidified. It stood over three meters tall, gaunt, slightly stooped, exuding an elusive menace. Two membranous wings detached and fluttered open. Its head with long curved spikes slowly stretched upward on a slender neck, turning left and right as if sniffing the air. Then, in utter silence, it soared into the sky, sweeping the lamp post with its massive wings. Even against the dark sky, the figure appeared as a patch of impenetrable darkness.
My demon was on the hunt.
I woke up to a phone call. Its obnoxious melody drilled into my throbbing head. Lying on the cold tiled floor in the hallway, naked and chilled to the bone, I was at least home. Glancing around, I sadly noted the front door was reduced to splinters, with the dirty stairwell visible through the doorway. I wondered how many people got an eyeful of my bare butt passing by my door this morning. Oh well, screw it. I needed to down some brew and smoke badly, or my head would literally explode.
Crawling to the kitchen, I reached a cabinet and pulled out a flask of magic brew and a pack of cigarettes. With shaking hands, I unscrewed the flask and took a desperate gulp. Relief came instantly. I leaned back against the hot radiator and didn’t care about the bare cold. I lit a cigarette, flicking my fingers to use my curse for a flame, and smoked leisurely, ashing on the floor.
The phone in the hallway kept ringing. Knowing exactly who was calling, I wasn’t in a hurry to answer, so I delayed the conversation as long as possible. Eventually, the pain subsided, and I staggered to the wall-mounted phone, lifting the receiver.
“You’re a mess!” a cheery opener, I thought melancholically, lighting another cigarette with the first, “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused, you horned beast?!”
“Alf, cut it out. You know I had no choice.”
“No choice, my ass!” he bellowed, “Of course, there was no choice because you lack brains! You were supposed to remove the demon that escaped the Castle quietly! Instead, you, you moron, wrecked half of Anichkov Bridge, shattered three storefronts on Nevsky, and devoured three Chinese tourists. Have you lost your mind?!”
“Ugh…”
“Yeah, ugh, you infernal creature. The whole department deals with your mess, and the boss expects you to be in the office in half an hour. And I don’t think it’s to kiss your ass,” he added with undeniable schadenfreude, “I bet, Ozod, this was the last straw, and they’ll lock you up in the Castle too. I sincerely hope so.”
“Go to hell, Alf,” I replied calmly and hung up.
It’s time to find some clothes and head to the office; my boss isn’t the most patient creature.
