Whispers of the Dark
an excerpt

Prologue

It was Christmas Eve and the fog hung thick and heavy, smothering the light from the gas lamps and making the moonless night darker still. It was close to midnight and bitterly cold. The wind blew up from the Thames bringing a stinging chill that bit into any inch of exposed skin.

Most of the people of London slept, safe in their bed, blankets wrapped tight to keep out the cold, and night lights lit to guard against the darkness. The dreams of the children were peaceful, full of hopes of Father Christmas and the gifts they would receive the following morning, if they had been good. The dreams of the adults were blacker, and before they retired to their bedchambers they ensured their doors were locked tight and bolted behind the colourful holly wreaths that decorated them.

It was a dangerous time, for there was a killer loose on the streets. One the papers had given the nickname Jack Frost due to the season and his method of killing. A single thrust of an icicle shaped blade to the heart.

There had been twenty four murders in the London area that December. Most of the mages. The police were baffled and had yet to find a single clue. All they knew was that the killer had some sort of mission and the pessimists among them warned that it was not yet at an end. How right they were.

Jack Frost stood silently beneath the broken sign that marked the road as Hanbury Street. Still save for the breath that billowed out like a small mist above the collar of the coat he wore drawn up to his chin. He had been standing in precisely the same spot for over an hour and the chill of the night had long since settled into his bones. His quarry was late.

Jack took the silver pocket watch from his pocket and flipped it open. No sooner had he raised it to eye level when he heard the sound of hurried footsteps on the cobbles. A cold smile lit his features as he slipped the watch away and stepped further back into the shadows.

Jack could see the young man that was approaching now, though the fog made it hard to make out his exact features. Still the man’s raven hair, standing out in stark contrast to the ivory pale of his skin satisfied Jack that the person was indeed Julian Trent. The one he had been waiting for.

It was a pity that one so young had to die, but it was necessary. That was what Jack had to keep reminding himself. There was too much at stake to have second thoughts, and too many others had already died on his blade. There was no room for pity.

Jack pulled his scarf up so that it covered the lower half of his face. His top hat angled low so even his eyes were obscured.

As Julian rounded the corner he glanced back over his shoulder as if afraid he was being pursued. At that moment Jack struck.

He stepped out from the shadows and slapped the flat of his gloved hand against Julian’s chest. The violent motion causing the spiked blade hidden in the vambrace he wore to shoot out, piercing his victims heart.

Julian cried out, a sound that seemed more one of shock than pain or fear and looked down at his chest as Jack pulled the blood stained spike from his body. He stumbled into Jack and Jack caught him, easing him down onto the cobbles. Dark blood spread from the wound, soaking the front of his shirt, shining black in the dim light.

“M-my brother…” Julian’s words were barely a whisper, choked with pain.

“Do not worry.” Jack said, equally softly. “I will be seeing him soon enough.”

Julian gasped, his dark blue eyes going wide. The golden fleck within them that marked him as a mage flared once, then slowly faded as the life left his body. As he breathed his last the clock towers through out the city chimed midnight. It was Christmas Day.

The heavy clouds above seemed to take this as a sign for as the last chime sounded snow began to fall. It spiralled down like frosted lace, settling in Julian’s hair, and on his pale face, were it melted and ran down his cheeks like tears.

“I am sorry.” Jack said gently, reaching out to close Julian’s half open eyes. “I know it does you no good, but I am.” He took a single white rose from his coat and laid it across the dead boys chest, as if to cover the flowering stain of blood. For a moment he simply crouched there, watching the snow, then he straightened and walked away.

Within moments, he was lost from view within the fog.