Wrath of N'kai by Josh Reynolds

Author:Josh Reynolds [Reynolds, Josh]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781839080128
Publisher: Aconyte
Published: 2020-05-05T00:00:00+00:00

Alessandra was somewhere cold and hard. Stone. Artillery – no, drums – thudded somewhere in the distance. Below her, perhaps. Or maybe above. She couldn’t tell.

Ahead of her was only darkness. A vast emptiness, stretching past the limits of her vision. She tried to push herself to her feet, and heard something clink. Chains… she was chained. Someone had chained her to the stones. She looked around. There were… people standing nearby. Men, or maybe women. Naked, but for grotesque masks – not gas masks this time, but ornate masks of onyx and gold. They were praying, or perhaps chanting. But softly, almost as if they were afraid someone would hear.

Or something.

She tried to speak, but no sound came out. She tried to rise again, but the chains prevented it. Panic gnawed at the edges of her composure. She didn’t know where she was or how she’d gotten here. All she knew was that if she didn’t get out, she was going to die. Something was coming. Behind her, the chanting had changed – become more guttural. And the drums… the rhythm of the drums was different. Faster.

Hungrier.

She yanked at the chains, but there was no give in them. Out in the dark, she glimpsed a hint of movement. As if something immense were stirring in the deeps. Her thrashing became frenzied. She felt a coldness in her and could not look away from the dark. Around her, she felt her captors sink down, bowing before this indistinct motion. She could not draw breath into her lungs.

Tsathoggua en y’n an ya phtaggn N’kai.

N’kai.

N’kai.

N’KAI.

The word hammered through her, like a jolt of electricity. She did not recognize it, but she knew it all the same. It twisted inside her head, stretching down into the marrow of her, filling her up and hollowing her out.

This time, she managed to scream, waking herself in the process. She lurched out of the chair, heart thudding, stomach roiling. She had fallen asleep not long after returning from her outing with Visser. The pastries had sat heavily on her stomach, and not even the coffee had been enough to keep her awake.

Sweat coated her, and she felt flushed and clammy all at once. She looked down at herself, but saw no marks, no wounds. She rose and splashed some water on her face. She avoided looking at the mirror as she did so.

She was dressed for work, waiting for Pepper to arrive. She looked out the window and froze. Something was down there, almost obscured in the evening mist. Someone. Standing in the park, watching the hotel.

No, watching the penthouse. A cold hand gripped her spine. Her fingers felt for her revolver, though it wasn’t as if she was going to shoot them. The mist rolled, and they were gone. She let the curtain fall and sat back heavily in her seat. It had been Zamacona’s servant, she was certain of it.

A knock at the door caused her to sit up sharply. Pistol in hand, she stood and went over to it.

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