HEX Book 1: An urban Fantasy Novel - The Sholto Gunn series by Craig Zerf

Author:Craig Zerf [Zerf, Craig]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Anglo-American Press
Published: 2018-05-11T07:00:00+00:00

It was past midnight and we had followed up on two more leads since we had left the underground kingdom. Both had been simple cases of low-level mages destroying personal artifacts.

Then the seeker orb had led us here.

Grand Central Station.

I had parked the Porsche on a yellow line, close to the entrance, and used a spell cartridge to cast a glamor over it. I hadn’t made it invisible, although I could have. But then people would walk into it and wonder what the hell was happening. Instead I simply cast a spell of repulse. So, if anyone actually looked at the SUV their mind wouldn’t register the car. They would know there was something there and walk around it, but traffic cops and vandals would ignore it. Clever, huh?

Although there were few people around, due to the lateness of the hour, we still had to maintain some modicum of stealth. So Vusi had concentrated the orb, compressing it down to the size of an acorn. Not quite as easy to follow but easier to conceal.

We followed it through the station and to the whispering gallery. And then to a door at the end of the gallery. The door was locked. Secured with two large, old-fashioned cast-iron padlocks.

I had been here before. Using a flow of internal magic, I sprung the locks and opened the door.

We entered a service tunnel. Steam pipes and cables covered the ceiling and the walls ran with damp. Bare bulbs provided scant light at random intervals and the tunnel seemed to stretch away into the distance with no end.

‘More dwarves,’ said Vusi.

I shook my head and corrected him. ‘No. Not dwarves. Mole people.’ I drew my pistol. As I said, I had been here before. And it had not ended well.

Taking my lead, Vusi drew his assegai, holding it ready in his right hand. The blade seemed to glow in the gloom like some eldritch creation. As deadly as my firearm.

‘What are mole people?’ he asked.

‘They’re the people who have slipped through the cracks in the pavement,’ I explained. ‘Started back in the day, late 1800s. Homeless people moved off the streets and into the tunnels. Abandoned underground stations, work tunnels, that sort of thing. At first there were only a few of them. But as the years went by their numbers grew. They started to form a society, small underground hamlets with leaders and structure. They tapped into the electricity and water and sewage. Started to build houses and shit. I mean, nothing grand, but better than living on the street. Now there are over five thousand of them. Families, gangs, businesses. And the one thing they all have in common … they hate surface dwellers.

‘Hell, some of these mole dudes were actually born down here. Some say there’s a group of them, call themselves, the Dark People, that have never actually seen the surface. Creepy stuff. They’re led by a committee, but the head of the committee is the real power. A dude they call, Darkman.

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