The Dying of the Light

“It does work, though,” Gracious said. “It’s not one hundred percent accurate, it doesn’t lead you straight to the source of magic, but it gets you into the general area.”

“This way.” Donegan led them down a narrow alley. “Something’s close. Very close.”

“How sure are you?” Vex asked.

“Pretty sure,” Donegan called back. “This isn’t an exact science.”

“It’s not even remotely a science,” said Saracen.

“Aha!” Gracious said, picking up speed and passing Donegan. He pointed to two chocolate bar wrappers as they skipped along on the breeze.

“I’m missing something,” said Fletcher.

“One of the strongest urges a Remnant has once it takes a new host is to sate its appetites,” Vex told him. “It needs sensation. It needs to experience pleasure or pain. Food is an instant source of pleasure.”

“So all these sweet wrappers …”

“Classic signs of a Remnant possession. Look. More.”

They followed the trail to a loose pile of wrappers beneath an open window. Fletcher peered in. A small office with a single desk and cheap trophies on a shelf.

“A dojo,” said Saracen.

Fletcher looked back. “What?”

“A martial arts school. Looks like our Remnant might be an instructor.”

They walked round the corner to the street entrance. It was an unimpressive building with a cheap sign showing a badly-drawn man executing a flying kick. Fletcher followed the others inside. They passed a framed photograph of a man with a ponytail in a black karate uniform. The name under it was Noonan.

They pushed through another set of doors, entered the hall. Parents sat at one end while their kids stood to attention in the main space. The uniforms they wore were black and red. Only the man in charge, the one called Noonan, had a black belt around his waist.

A teenaged student hurried to the top of the class and faced him. The student settled into a fighting stance, and at Noonan’s nod he stepped in with a right punch. Noonan moved, blocking with a quick exhalation, and then he pivoted, shouting out a “Ki-yah!” as his fist sank into the student’s side. The student dropped to his knees, wheezing.

Noonan swung round to address the students and their parents. “A basic defence against a straight punch!” he announced. “Now I will demonstrate a defence against a knife attack!”

He gestured to another student, and Fletcher saw the trepidation in the girl’s eyes as she picked up a rubber training knife and approached the mat. Noonan said a few words to her, the student nodded, and Noonan readied himself.

A curt nod to the student, who stepped in with a wild slash. Noonan dodged back and kicked, his foot connecting with the student’s wrist. The knife went flying, and Noonan continued the technique with a series of whirling kicks that sent the student slamming back into the wall.

“Is this guy always so rough?” Saracen whispered to a parent.

The parent glowered. “Every time. He’s a bully and a thug.”

“Questions?” Noonan said loudly. “No? No one? Our system speaks for itself, doesn’t it?” He laughed. There were a few uneasy chuckles from his students. “But anyone can do it, regardless of age or fitness level. I can teach any student to defend themselves and their loved ones. Would one of the parents like to volunteer for a demonstration? No? Are you a little nervous of being shown up in front of your kids?” He laughed again.

Vex walked forward.

“A volunteer!” Noonan said. “Give this brave soul a round of applause, ladies and gentlemen!”

Everyone clapped. Fletcher joined in.

“I’m just going to demonstrate some simple defences against a right punch,” Noonan told him. “I’ll go easy on you, don’t worry! Just take your shoes off and – no, just remove your shoes. Take your shoes off when you’re on the mat. Take them—”

Vex strolled across the mat, his boots still on. Noonan’s smile became a little strained.

“OK then,” he said. “Shoes staying on, are they? Well, seeing as how this is your first time, I can forgive that.” The anger in his eyes suggested otherwise. “Now then, sir, this defence is against a right punch, so—”

Vex strolled by him and his left fist flashed out, struck Noonan right on the nose. Noonan stepped back, hands at his face, and Vex circled him unhurriedly.

“Ow!” said Noonan. “No! I didn’t say begin! You can’t just begin without me being ready! Is it bleeding? Am I bleeding?”

He took his hands away from his nose to show Vex, and Vex hit him again.

“Ow! What are you doing? We weren’t doing the technique that time! Oh, God, I’m bleeding now, amn’t I? Now I’m bleeding!” Noonan wiped the blood from his nose and sniffled. “And they weren’t even right punches. Those were left jabs you threw. Stop walking. Stop walking, for God’s sake!”

Vex stopped walking.

“Thank you,” Noonan said, seething. “Now then, you’re going to throw a right punch, so put your left leg forward, and step through with the punch when I say begin, OK? Do you understand? Am I being clear?”

Vex stomped on Noonan’s bare foot, and Noonan screeched.

“You can’t do that! You can’t do that!”

He hopped, clutching his foot, then lost his balance and toppled over. He glared up. “I see. You’re here to prove yourself, are you? You’re a tough guy, and you want to cheat? Any other night, I’d throw you out right now. But tonight is different. Tonight, I’m different. So, if you want to freestyle …” Noonan stood up. “Let’s freestyle.”

Noonan started moving, bouncing on his toes, shifting his weight, weaving from side to side and forward and back. His right fist was up at his chin, his left lower and out in front. A classic fighting stance.

Vex just stood there.

Noonan snapped out a kick, whirled with another, jumped and spun with a third. All three of them were well out of range, though, and Vex just kept standing there. The unimpressed look on his face seemed to agitate Noonan almost as much as the foot stomp. Black veins started to rise as he lunged with a punch.

Vex covered up and went to meet him, arms up and elbows out. Noonan’s fist crunched against one of those elbows and he howled. Vex grabbed him, drove him backwards, smacked his head against the wall. The crowd gave a horrified “oooh” and Noonan staggered. The black veins had vanished as quickly as they’d risen. Vex gripped the back of his neck with one hand, and led him into the office.

Saracen stepped forward, turning to smile at the onlookers. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are inspectors from the National Black Belt Review Board, and we need to talk to Mr Noonan about his teaching methods. I’m afraid tonight’s class will have to be cut short. Thanks very much for your attention, and safe home.”

Saracen bowed, then turned on his heel and walked after Vex. The Monster Hunters followed as the students and parents murmured among themselves and began to file out. Fletcher was the last one into the office, and he closed the door behind him. Noonan was sitting in his chair, his hands shackled, while some very intimidating men looked down at him.

“Where are the others?” Vex asked.

“Other what?” said Noonan. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I need some ice for my head. I think my hand is broken. And my foot. And maybe my nose.”

Saracen sat on the edge of the desk. “Do you like being him? This man you’ve hijacked? He seems a tad petty, doesn’t he? I bet you’ve inhabited far more interesting people over the years than this loser.”

Noonan glowered. “I’m not a loser.”

“You’re a pudgy martial arts instructor with a quick temper and no control. You regularly hurt your students in order to show off and boost your own ego. You’re a loser, my friend.”

“Take these cuffs off and I’ll show you who the real loser is.”