The Iron Bells
THE IRON BELLS
The Demon’s Gate: Book One
Jeanette Battista
Copyright 2013 Jeanette Battista
All rights reserved
Leopard Moon (Volume 1 of the Moon series)
Jackal Moon (Volume 2 of the Moon series)
Hyena Moon (Volume 3 of the Moon series)
Hunter Moon (Volume 4 of the Moon series)
Long Black Veil
Dead Harvest (with Tracey Phillips)
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter One
The year is 64 A.D., at least the way we count it. A.D. doesn't stand for Anno Domini, not anymore.
A.D. now stands for Anno Daemonii.
Chapter Two
I wait atop the park wall near the entrance, hidden by a cluster of trees. The sun leaks through the clouds, but the day is dry. For now. Still, it is enough to be aboveground while the sun shines—it has been less and less frequent that I get to see it. My work in the tunnels keeps me too long underground most days to catch full afternoon light; usually I make my way back to the boarding house at dusk or after.
Or not at all.
It has been a few weeks since I’ve gotten to check in on Patrick. Even though my visits with him lead to arguments when he asks questions I can’t answer, he is still my best friend. My only friend, really. When time allows, I like to pop in and see how he fares.
My hiding spot amongst the trees does more than just conceal me from the ever-present cameras throughout all of London. It gives me an excellent vantage point to see Patrick coming from his classes. He graduated and is in some kind of school for computers or something--I don’t know. I barely made it through secondary--there is no way I could handle university, not with what I have to deal with every day in the Underground.
Patrick’s clothes are rumpled, his tie askew. I smile at the sight of his dark face screwed up in concentration. I don’t know what he is thinking about, but I know the expression well enough to recognize the intense focus that meant the gears were grinding inside his head. I make to swing myself down so I can properly greet him, but stop when two larger guys step onto the path next to him. “Bowen,” one of them—he has reddish hair and a pugnacious look on his face—says, putting his hand flat on Patrick’s chest.
“What is it, Roddy?” I hear Patrick ask, a quiet sort of resignation in his voice. I grit my teeth. I don’t like to hear that tone in his voice; it makes me think that this is an everyday occurrence and I can’t bear the thought of that.
“My money,” Roddy says, his hand fisting into the material of Patrick’s sweater.
“Right,” says the blond fellow beside him. “We’ve been waiting for a week, sport.”
Patrick tries to pull away, but the blond boy has moved behind him. I tense, ready to spring, but hold still when Patrick speaks.
“I’m not giving you any more money.” He tries to jerk out of Red Roddy’s grip, but Blondie pushes him back.
“Sure you don’t want to reconsider that, sport?” Red Roddy asks.
I’ve seen enough. Patrick has gone pale beneath his dusky skin, but I know that there is no changing his mind when he has that look on his face. I know he’ll take the beating and whatever else those two can dish out, but that he won’t be paying them--for what, I don’t know--anymore.
But I have no intention of letting Patrick take a beating. I flip my hoodie up, hoping to obscure my hair and face.
Blondie grabs Patrick’s arms, pinning them behind his back, while Red Roddy rears back with a fist the size of a ham. I grab a tree limb and swing down, using my momentum to slam into Red. I see Patrick’s eyes widen into saucers right before I let go and crash into Red Roddy. He goes down like the proverbial ton of bricks with my boots in his middle.
Blondie lets Patrick go and tries to avenge his fallen companion. Charming boys—they’ll probably have quite the storied careers with the Inquisition, preying on their fellow man until something unpleasant eats them.
He swings at me, but I’m ducking and spinning below his arm. Two rabbit punches to his kidneys and he’s down. I drag him over to Red Roddy, then pull both of them up by their shirts. I smack their heads together to make sure I have their full attention.
“From this point on, Patrick is off-limits. If I hear that he so much as gets a hangnail, I’ll be back, and I’ll kick you both so hard your sons will be born clutching their privates. You get me, gentlemen?”
I don’t even bother to see if either of them nod; I just shove them back down and come to my feet. Patrick is staring at me with a bemused expression on his face. I grab his arm and hustle him away from Red Roddy and Blondie and anyone else who might have seen the scuffle.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were having troubles?” I ask as we move away from the park. I pull my hood back down.
“Nice to see you too, Amaranth.” His voice is dry. He pulls him arm away from me.
I curse myself. If I were aboveground more, I might be able to keep a better eye on him. He’s brilliant and people like to take advantage of that; at least when we went to school together I could watch out for him and keep him out of trouble.
“I’ve been busy,” I mumble. It’s the best excuse I can come up with and it is deeply sad.
“Doing what? You don’t go to school, I never see you anymore. What are you up to?” He turns to look at me and I can see the anger warring with worry in his chocolate brown eyes. “Why won’t you trust me?” When I don’t answer right away, he sighs. I can see the disappointment crowd out the anger and worry. “You know what, Ama? Never mind. I’ll see you around.”
He turns to walk in the opposite direction. “Patrick!” I call after him. He waves his hand, dismissing me. “Pat! Come on!”
I see the red-grey of a policeman’s uniform out of the corner of my eye. Time to go. With one last look at Patrick’s disappearing back, I dig my hands into my pockets and keep walking. I wish I could tell Patrick where I’ve been and what I do when I should be in school, but that would only put him at risk.
I make sure that the bobby isn’t following me or Pat. He hasn’t moved, and I breathe a small sigh of relief. Maybe he’ll come upon Red Roddy and Blondie—if they haven’t moved on to boosting old ladies’ pin money—and they’ll report a complaint. Definitely not a good idea to hang about and wait to get picked up.
I keep my head down, walking steadily but not appearing to rush. It’s not fair, I think as I walk. I’m trying to save the world and I can’t even catch a break from my best friend.
Bollocks.