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lawrence.whitaker

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[...continued...]

"I shouldn't have brought us this way," said Semne, the worry clear in her voice. I hadn't been paying attention to our route but was now suddenly aware of the narrowed alleys and tall buildings making a patchwork of light and shadow. "We should leave, quickly." She sounded frightened so I didn't argue, just turned and hurried back towards the main street, its bright light beckoning, safe. A feeling of dread came over me — we were being chased, I was sure. There was a tang of danger in the air; so it was the worst possible moment for me to trip over a loose flagstone. Semne clutched at me frantically, desperate to get me to my feet; but I had twisted my ankle and bashed my shin badly, and was struggling to put any weight on it.

With her supporting me I did the best I could; her fear palpable and yet she still did not leave me. Alas, we were too late.  The figure of a man up ahead blocked our path to freedom. Only a Turk would dress so flamboyantly; loose trousers to his ankles, an embroidered outer robe barely concealing the cuirass beneath it. A high-crowned fur hat surmounted his grinning, moustachioed face. He hefted a strange staff up to his shoulder, and at the same time as I was realising it must be a hook gun pointed directly at my head, the Turk pulled the trigger and sparked the powder. There was an almighty crack! and my legs collapsed beneath me.

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 [...continued...]

The smoke made it hard to see the damage; but I was feeling no pain. I must be in shock, I decided. Everything about me seemed in slow motion. Then I saw it. In the shadows, behind where Semne and I were standing. A writhing figure; a veritable demon with huge claws and teeth, bloody flesh like it had been peeled out of its skin. The Turk's pellet had hit it directly in the head. A hand flopped out of the shadows into a patch of sunlight and with a hiss the blood boiled off, leaving behind a human-looking arm, although still attached to a demonic body. I recoiled, worried that it was not as dead as it looked. The Turk had meanwhile reloaded his hook gun with a practised speed and approached; helping first Semne to her feet and then myself.

"Orhan Çelebi," he introduced himself, making a deep bow towards us both. He then went over to inspect his kill. "Let's take a look at you." He kicked the body into the sunlight, and its demonic aspect boiled away leaving a normal-looking corpse of a man.

"Broukolak," said the Turk, as if that was an explanation, "swift, murderous, Look human enough in the light, but the dark shows their true face. Strange, though: they usually hunt in pairs..." That's when we heard the scream. Semne was being dragged off into the darkness. I could see bloody hands gripped around her waist. The Turk wasted no time, grabbing his hook gun and setting off in chase. With my injured leg there was no way that I was going to be able to follow; besides, I didn't need to. You see, I recognised the man lying before me. It was the man I had seen earlier today in Platea with the large suspicious bundle: his ugly face was unmistakable.  The chances that I should meet him again in a city of seventy thousand people was too much — he must have seen me after all and fancied he had a secret to keep.

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[…continued…]

To my relief, Thomas and the others were around when I got home. I bought them all wine and told them of my day, and what I had witnessed in Akropolis.

"We know these creatures," said Vladislaus. "In my homeland we call them vampire. I have hunted them before."

"They call it the Undercity." Everyone looked at Rodrigues. "Nekropoleia, literally 'deadtown'. Tunnels beneath Platea. Miles of them, they say, filled with corpses. If she was taken there, she could be anywhere. That's if they haven't already eaten her. A tasty morsel. Yum, yum." The Catalonian gave a disturbing giggle, but was silenced by a look from Master Thomas.

Putting the 'priest's' brutal yet honest opinion aside, I outlined my plans to rescue Semne. Silence. It was the monster Anchistos who was the first to offer his help. Master Thomas raised an eyebrow, but added his voice to that of the minotauros. With these two on my side, the others soon pledged their support. Last to agree was the so-called 'Father' Rodrigues. I didn't like the look on his face — I'll have to watch him carefully.

So, that's why are standing here at dawn in an alley near the university. I'm penning these last words while Anchistos levers open the door to the cellar. May God bless this endeavour of ours, and I can only pray that it is not too late for Semne.

[The journal of William Shirley ends here. It was retrieved from a sewer outflow by a mudlark and offered to the Imperial University for sale. The scholar who bought it was intending to scrape the parchment clean, but after reading the words within brought it to my attention instead. I intend to see if I can find out anything more about the author or the individuals he mentions within.]

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