Henry laughed and rejoined the group. He wanted to ask Gabriel what Luke had meant, but with Tristan in earshot, that perhaps wasn’t the best idea.
The under-city was as remarkable as Henry remembered, but of course as with everything that real magic touched, it wasn’t exactly Harry Potter. The place had a level of grime and chaos to it which made Henry constantly feel uneasy. If nothing else, walking through the under-city was an education, a chance to catch up on his alternate power type studies. He had ten of them to try and learn and, after the first forty minutes of walking, he had spotted two of the hybrid types and all of the first order powers, some even in action.
“What is this place?” Henry said, as they entered a street even more derelict than the others.
“Underground gambling, prostitution, drug dens and, further along, the abandoned part of the under-city. Keep your wits about you,” Tristan said.
“How did it get like this?”
“Not enough Inquisition intervention, the gangs know they can roam free here.”
“Are there not enough Inquisitors?”
“No, hence why it is important you get trained up quickly.”
“Thanks for another reminder.”
“Always here to help,” Tristan said, a sarcastic smile tugging at his lips.
“I know you probably don’t want to hear it, but I’m not sure I can do this.”
“What?”
“I’m failing at everything, I just don’t get it.”
“I’m being hard on you to try and spur you on, not demotivate you. From what I’ve seen, you are a fighter, if someone says you can’t do something, that’s when you pull through. Look, try not to panic, you are coping just fine.”
“Fine? How do you figure that?”
“You are struggling with the physical training and aren't great at controlling your power, but you have instinct. Some Inquisitors struggle with a skill I don't think you consider: your charms. You can detect alternates and then trigger magus equipment, all without having to think about it. I'm not going to tell you how, because then you’ll think about it and, as we know, that means you won't be able to do it. You have also taken in a wealth of information in a very short time. You are doing okay, especially for someone not brought up in our world. You made quite the impression in the council chamber.”
“Not sure it was a good one.”
“No, but it's always good to be remembered. Henry, tonight I am going to ask you to do something and you must do it, do you understand? Now you must leave me, I need to prepare.”
What did he mean by that? Falling back to walk with Gabriel, Henry felt inside his jacket, brushing his fingers along the cold surface of the weapons. He hadn't even thought about the charms, maybe he wasn't completely useless after all.
In the distance, the sound of gunfire, explosions and men shouting, echoed off the buildings. It was a few more minutes of walking before they found the source.
They came to what appeared to be an abandoned factory, rusted red metal gates blocked the entrance. The windows were boarded up, nails driven into the old brickwork which crumbled away irrevocably. A group of men with blue uniforms, who Henry remembered from the inverted triangular building that had been attacked the night he had gained his abilities, were firing at the building from across the street.
“Try to stay near me and don’t die, it doesn’t give your sponsor the best reputation,” Tristan said.
“What's happening?”
“This is a Deliverance stronghold and we need to breach it. The men around us are from the government, we are supporting them under the new agreement.”
Gunfire pebbled the thick wall Henry, Gabriel and Tristan hid behind, as flashes of blue light pulsed from the government men’s weapons, creating scorch marks across the walls of the factory.
“I am going to use the Vis power to clear the doorway. I will just rotate my power and reach out, feeling the pull of gravity surging through me and push that force towards the door. First, I'm going to use life magus to work out how many are inside.”
Tristan closed his fist and his eyes flashed emerald green for a moment, a mist surrounding his closed fingers.
“There are around twenty of them, two dead already. We need to get them to stop firing for a moment before we can get this party started,” Tristan said.
He took a large spherical object, with strips of a darker metal etched into its surface, from his jacket and rested it in his palm.
“This is a sonic grenade. I’ll trigger it, then we storm the building. Just remember-”
“Don’t die?” Henry said.
Tristan smiled and threw the grenade over the blockade. It exploded, a sonic boom instantly shattering all the glass in the vicinity. Tristan was up and over the blockade before Henry knew it, charging at the door. Gabriel grabbed Henry’s arm and shoved him forward, they needed to stay close. Tristan raised his hand as he reached the front of the factory and the doors flew apart like cardboard discarded by the wind.
Inside, the building consisted of a series of red iron support beams for the floors above, repeated every five meters or so. Partition walls had been erected between them, attempting to bring structure to the place, but decay had taken its toll. Large pieces had flaked away revealing the rooms beyond, not helped by massive areas of bullet impacts that had tattered the aged material to nothing.
Tristan shot repeatedly, taking down men before Henry had even noticed where they stood. It was all a flash of firing through the dust, as bullets ripped through the old structure. They moved down the centre of the building, a narrow walkway that led to a set of spiral stairs. Henry looked behind him to see the government men storm in, shots ringing out from their weapons, clearing the targets who had somehow escaped Tristan.
Three men came out from the side of the corridor, guns firing, forcing Henry and Gabriel to dive for cover. Tristan however, had not moved. He held up his hand to the bullets, which seemed to loose their momentum as they reached him, falling to the floor with little clinks.
“Henry. Using Navitas, I am creating a field that reduces the energy of the bullets. They cannot reach me with any sort of lethal speed,” Tristan said.
He fired his gun three times and the men fell to the floor. In all the chaos, Henry hadn’t even been noticing what types of alternate they were, but Tristan’s technique seemed simple enough: shoot anything that moves.
“We use a plasma charge that can knock out a human up to about 150 kilograms. It tags them and then the Inquisition sends people to pick them up. Shall we carry on? I don’t want him escaping. Henry, you’re with me,” Tristan said.
Him? Were they chasing someone particular? Tristan hadn't mentioned that. Henry sprinted across to him, gripping his gun as he tried to get into a mind-set where he could actually fire it. He had left his headphones behind, so any form of combat was really out of the question. Although if he had brought them, Tristan would have probably marked it as cheating. A man came out of an entrance, his pistol pointing straight at Henry. In a flash, Tristan tackled him, knocking the man’s weapon out of his hand just as he summoned a surge of electricity that sent Tristan flying through a window in a shatter of glass.
The man turned to Henry and, judging by the yellow tinge he saw in the man’s eyes, this was an energy alternate. Henry fired his gun towards the man, but realised he had inadvertently closed his eyes. When he opened them again, three burn marks scored the wall to the left of the man, who stood smiling at Henry. Note to self, don’t close your eyes while firing.
There was a sound like a strong gale as the energy alternate was suddenly pulled through the window Tristan had just been catapulted through. There was a thud and then silence, Henry carefully approaching the opening to see what had happened.
“Henry, come here,” Tristan called out.
Henry did as he was told, hopping over the window frame and following Tristan as he pushed the man against the wall.
“Interrogate him,” Tristan sa
id.
Interrogate him? How the hell did you do that? Tristan must have seen Henry’s hesitation as he moved his grip to the man’s throat and ordered Henry to take over. Henry wrapped his fingers around the man’s neck, his rat like features squirming in Henry’s hold. It was taking all of Henry’s strength to hold him in place, but he was sure the real deterrent was the gun Tristan was pointing at him.
“Can you get on with it?” Tristan said.
Henry looked back at the man, who was a little bemused at the situation. He was still wiggling and Henry was sure that at any moment he would break free and all hell would break lose.
“Where is your boss?”
“I’m not telling you anything, scum!” the rat like man said.
Tristan gave Henry a look, which he took as encouragement to be a little more violent. Henry released his grip slightly, so the man’s head moved partially away from the wall, before slamming it back into it.
“I’m not going to ask again,” Henry said.
“And I’m not going to tell you.”
Henry had never really done intimidating, which he now discovered was quite an issue. The guy wasn’t going to talk and Tristan was looking less impressed by the second.
“I’m telling you, you’ll be-”
“What? What are you gonna do to me kid?”
Henry needed to think of something fast. He wasn’t quite sure why he did what he did, maybe he had seen in a film, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Momentarily loosening his grip on the man’s throat again, Henry forced his body weight through his elbow. There was a cracking sound, as elbow and nose connected, followed by a cry of pain.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you that hard, I mean-” Henry started to say, before Tristan pushed him aside.
Tristan gripped the man’s throat tightly and using his considerable strength, raised him from the floor, before punching the man in the face repeatedly.
“Where is he?” he growled.
“Upstairs, but you’ll never make it up there alive.”
Tristan hit him again and the life was lost from him as he crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
“Sorry? Who the hell says sorry when you are questioning someone?” Tristan said.
“I wasn’t sure, I…”
“Let’s go.”
They ran back into the corridor and toward a rusted spiral staircase that disappeared into the ceiling.
If Tristan had any fear heading upstairs, it didn’t show. The clunk of his boots against the metal steps echoed distantly around the deserted factory. At the top of the stairs, gunshots, screams and the unmistakable cry of a human coming into contact with an inanimate object sounded out. A few minutes later, the noise subsided: the signal for Henry and Gabriel to follow on up.
Tristan stood in the middle of the room amongst a sea of bodies. In front of him, lay a man slowly trying to edge himself away from his attacker who stood like a silent golem above him. He was in his late sixties, gaunt, his hair receded. Henry looked toward him and they exchanged a glance, but Henry didn’t see anything. Were they hunting humans now?
“Who is he?” Henry said.
“A traitor who must be executed,” Tristan said.
“What is his name? How can you be judge, jury and executioner?”
“Oh, I’m only the judge and jury. Henry, you are the executioner.”
The man’s eye’s widened, his expression a rush of panic.
“My name is Nigel Elmore and I am a government employee, you can’t do this,” the man said.
Tristan walked over to Henry and flicked a switch on the side of his gun, positioning Henry’s arm so it pointed at the man.
“The guns have a lethal mode and, at times, you will be expected to use it. This man has been judged too dangerous to live. Henry, to pass your trial, you are expected to execute him. One shot is all it takes and don’t close your eyes,” Tristan said.
“I am not a killer.”
“You are an Inquisitor and this duty is expected of you.”
“I will not do it.”
“You will, otherwise you have failed and will be cast out from the Inquisition.”
“Then cast me out, I won’t shoot him.”
“If you leave the Inquisition, you will lose your dysprosium treatments and protection the council provides you with. Think of your family.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No, I am telling you what will happen. Your death will be slow and agonising, your family and friends will most likely be tortured to set an example. All of this, because you haven’t got the guts to do what is needed.”
“He should be tried for whatever crimes he has committed.”
“He has and the sentence is death. I am going to count to five. 1…”
This was mad, Henry couldn’t kill someone.
“2…”
He couldn’t, Tristan must be bluffing.
“3…”
What if he wasn’t? Henry didn’t fear for his own life, not that anyone would believe him, but what about his mother and father, or Elle…
“4…”
Henry held the gun straight, pointed at the man’s chest.
“5…”
A shot sounded out around the room as the old man slumped on the floor. Henry’s body shook involuntarily as he lowered the gun to his side. The shot had hit him between the eyes, but it wasn’t Henry’s weapon that smoked.
“You failed.”
- Chapter 33 -
Personality traits
What an idiot the boy had been, but at least he showed spirit. Henry Fellows, at his first meeting with some of the most influential alternates in the country, if not the world, had managed to make an enemy of both the Master of the Council and one of the most powerful Doyens of the last century, as well as accusing every person in the room of being part of a cover-up over his fathers death. How to win friends and influence people indeed. There was also of course the result of last nights patrol with Tristan to come, but even the boy couldn’t bugger that up, surely?
Meyer woke at 8am, earlier than he had forced himself to do in a long, long time. Ruth hadn’t stayed over, or at least there was no sign she had retuned to the mansion after visiting Rosalyn the day before. Today however, Meyer had a job to do and it was perhaps better she wasn’t around to join him. He was going to find out what happened to Mark’s body, having confirmed to himself that the Inquisition investigation into it was a farce - it was orchestrated by Wade after all. The first step in Meyer’s mission was to trace who had taken his body and that meant a visit to the morgue.
His thoughts still, two days later, turned to the mystery he had uncovered in Wade’s office. It wasn’t the assassination of humans that concerned Meyer, he was already vaguely aware of the unlisted actions of the council. No, it was something else entirely that had made Meyer’s sleep the night before a restless one. That damn word, written on the cover of the deceased Inquisitor files in dull amber ink. ‘Possible’. What the hell did that mean?
To add to his sullen mood, Meyer’s face still stung this morning, a painful reminder of what a old useless fool he had become. After he had left Wade’s office, the notes stuffed into his jacket, who should be walking towards him, but Wade. In a rare and ill advised moment of action, Meyer had thrown himself into a storage closet at the side of the corridor to avoid detection. As could be expected, it hadn’t gone well. Catapulting through the door, he somehow fell over a mop that was propped against the inside wall, sending him head-first into a pile of cleaning supplies. Meyer lay on the ground, an ungraceful ball of gluttony and frustration, as Wade sauntered by. The bruise that had developed was quite impressive, almost perfectly round with rings of purple and yellow like the age-rings of an old tree. When he finally exited the closet, he had found himself a little too embarrassed to go to Ruth immediately and the bruise had merrily developed. It was only the next day she spotted him and healed the damn thing, but it still stung. He was getting old,
too old to be playing games like this. Retiring somewhere was becoming a much more tempting idea with every passing moment. Excerpt he couldn’t, Meyer had a duty to help Henry get through this.
“Good morning, my name is Dr. Drake and I am here to investigate the disappearance of a body from your facility on the 15th,” Meyer said.
He had taken a taxi to the morgue after retrieving details of where Mark’s body had been taken from Rosalyn, who was useful for discretely accessing police records when he needed them. The girl at the desk had a mousy look about her, which was a sign, as stereotypical as it was, that this wasn’t going to be terribly difficult. He reached out with his thoughts and sent a feeling of trust surging through her body; a warm familiarity that she wouldn’t be able to place, yet that would influence her actions all the same. She didn’t speak for a second, before deciding to only arm herself with a nervous smile.
“Do you want me to fetch Dr. Calder?” she said.
“That won’t be necessary. Can you tell me who was on the nightshift on the 15th please?” Meyer said.
The girl turned her attention to the computer and, in a few clicks, brought up the digital rota, her face glowing a shade of cold blue from the monitor.
“Harry Watson and Angelina Stevens were on that night,” she said.
“Are either of them in today?”
“Let me look. Yes, Harry is. Do you want me to call him down?”
“No, that won’t be necessary. Can you point me in his direction?”
“You won’t be able to get into the facility I’m afraid, you need security clearance.”
“And this is something you can help me with, I’m sure. Although we need to proceed quickly as this is, of course, a matter of great importance. I don’t want anyone to get in trouble for not cooperating with an official investigation, but I’m sure that won’t be an issue, will it?” Meyer said.
Rather than overuse his power, Meyer leant on it slightly, providing a slight pressure across the girls thoughts. This way, the trigger words he spoke would do all the work and he wouldn’t waste very much magus at all.
Blood & Magic Page 22