A Shadow Over Haven (Nick Holleran Urban Fantasy Series Book 3) by David Green

Author:David Green [Green, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Eerie River Publishing
Published: 2024-09-02T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE WILLOW GARDEN

A light drizzle fills the air. Travellan Heights is quiet. Still. As if the place is waiting for something.

Me and the kid left the Mustang half a mile or so back, and slunk up the silent, oak tree-lined roads. Streetlights – shaped like lanterns right out of Mary Poppins-era London – shine their flickering light against the gathering darkness. But the inky gloom swallows the faint illumination. Shadows reign across the muted streets of Travellan Heights, and me and the kid cling to them like Batman and Robin traversing Gotham City.

Shades exist in the darkness. Loop ghosts and the Aware. A trio of specters passed us a minute ago, giving me and Diana surprised and oddly-panicked looks but no words. Me and the kid haven’t spoken either. Not yet. There’s a power of silence smothering the Heights that neither of us wants to break.

We pass brightly lit mansions protected by stone walls and cold iron gates, the mansions set off from the road and standing deep into their plots. Spotlights send shafts of light from the grounds, shining on to the mix of modern and classic builds, and highlighting the fleets of expensive vehicles with acronyms for names and gardens you could get lost in surrounding the homes. But no people.

Garden gnomes. Plenty of those, with their red eyes, both real and ceramic.

But no people.

I said it before, but the living can sense when Hellish shit’s about to go down. Something about Travellan Heights is telling folk with sense to stay inside where there’s warmth, companionship, and safety.

Sadly for me, my ma always said I never had much in the way of good wits.

Beside me, Diana keeps checking the skies, a deepening frown working into her forehead. Night’s fallen, but stars are shining above us with no sign of dark clouds threatening a storm of Alpha-Demons.

Huh. A Storm of Alpha-Demons. I like it. Well, how the saying sounds. Not what a Storm of Alpha-Demons bring…

Russell Greaney’s pad is on the far outskirts of Travellan Heights. I say pad, but his joint is more like a compound. I’ve passed this way more than once in my previous life and had the ‘pleasure’ of being hauled inside the grounds by Greaney’s heavies. They didn’t bother tying a bag over my head. Everyone in Haven knows where the Irish Don resides. And Greaney knows anyone by name with the guts and… lack of common sense… to show up at his mansion uninvited.

Well, I ain’t planning on announcing my presence until my Ruger’s barrel is pressed against the back of the asshole’s skull. Hence, leaving the Mustang in our wake. My ride has a way of standing out.

Large, mottled-brown and beige walls loom out of the darkness up ahead. The other residents of Travellan Heights prefer lower barriers and cold iron gates that allow folks to peer through, so passersby can catch a glimpse of the opulent paradises tantalizingly out of reach. Not Greaney. His compound resembles a fortress from medieval days of yore.

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