“Come on, kid,” Acid spat. “Not the time for heroes.”
“Check out the distance between that highest ledge and the top,” Spook added, her voice more resolute. “You’ll never reach it alone. We’ll need to help one another up.”
Acid closed one eye, surveying the distance. Damnit, she was right. “Fine. But once we’re up there and inside, I want you to hide somewhere safe, away from danger. Understand?”
Spook stared back. Blank expression. She did this a lot, and it pissed Acid off. She was never sure whether Spook was being obstinate, thinking of something to say, or hadn’t been listening.
“Do you understand?” she said, enunciating every syllable.
“What about you?” Magda asked.
“If I go on alone, I promise you, we’ll all get off this rock a lot faster.”
“Will you be careful?” Spook asked.
Acid winked. “You know me, Spooks. I’m always careful.”
“Shall I go first?” Magda asked, already moving to the side of the steps and preparing herself to scramble over to the first ledge.
“Be my guest,” Acid said, arching an eyebrow for Spook’s benefit.
She stood aside as Magda tiptoed over to the edge of the broken steps and then with a guttural yell jumped for it. She reached the first ledge no problem. Once there, she steadied herself, looking back and giving a thumbs up.
Acid placed a hand on Spook’s shoulder. “You next, doll.”
“Yeah?”
“Follow Magda’s lead. Grab hold of what you can for purchase. And don’t look down.”
“Wasn’t planning on doing,” Spook said, before looking down. Her whole demeanour wilted visibly.
“Be strong,” Acid told her. “Don’t think too hard about it.”
“Easy for you to say.” Spook sniffed, positioning herself at the edge of the steps and gripping onto a gnarled root that protruded from the rock.
“You can do this,” Acid replied. “Believe in yourself.”
Spook smiled. “You ever thought about being a motivational speaker?”
“All right, enough of the chat. Let’s go.”
With Acid close behind her, Spook rocked back on her heels and then leapt over the side. She reached the ledge easily enough and Magda grabbed hold, steadying her. Two ledges to go. The furthest distance they had to jump was over to the ledge a good two metres away, with the final ledge requiring a more vertical leap. Acid waited, focusing on breath control as she watched Magda jump for the far ledge. She got one foot on the rock, but as the other came down she slipped. Spook yelped. Time stopped. Tiny fragments of rock fell away as Magda clutched for something to stabilise herself. A root, a small rock. She found it in a small crack in the cliff face, big enough to get her fingers inside and pull herself forward. She was safe.
“Okay, it’s you,” Acid called over to Spook. “Take a run up if you need it. You’ve got space.”
Spook didn’t turn around but nodded all the same. She took a step back and then went for it. Every muscle in Acid’s body tensed as the young American leapt for the far ledge, but she needn’t have worried. Spook made it look easy. Magda made a grab for her once again, and pulled her onto the centre of the ledge as she landed.
Two down, one to go.
Now it was Acid’s turn. She made the first leap easily enough, and once Magda and Spook had clambered up onto the final ledge, she shuffled up to the lip of the rock to study the distance. On level ground she’d make the jump with her eyes shut, but up here, in the half-light of early dawn, exposed to the high winds that rushed in over the ocean, it felt a big ask. She sniffed back. Reminded herself who she was. Who she’d become. Acid Vanilla wasn’t just an old codename she’d hung onto. It was the persona that had saved her life. A mindset that allowed her to do what she did. Becoming Acid Vanilla had been a complete transformation for her, both physically and mentally. “If you can’t kill someone, be someone who can.” That was what Caesar had told her all those years ago.
If you were scared, be someone who wasn’t.
She was Acid Vanilla.
And Acid Vanilla wasn’t scared of anything.
She pushed off with her feet. Two steps, and she jumped for it, landing on the ledge easily enough, but as her foot went down she stepped on a loose rock and stumbled to one side.
“Shit.”
With arms flailing, she grasped at thin air, desperately trying to shift her centre of gravity. Her heart turned over as the whole world spun. A chaotic swirl of green and blue and grey. The bats screeched. Over her shoulder, as if coming from another dimension, she heard the muffled screams. Spook, yelling her name. Tottering on the edge, ready to fall, Acid was able to get her fingertips to a bunch of coarse grass growing out the side of the cliff. Another second went by. Felt like an hour. Like a lifetime. She strengthened her grip on the long grass, managing to pull herself over onto the safety of the ledge.
“Acid? You okay?”
She glanced up at Spook, readying herself to give Magda a boost onto the summit. “I’m fine,” she gasped between gulps of air.
Once Magda was up on the headland, Acid jumped onto the final ledge to join Spook, who grabbed hold of her and gave her an awkward hug the second she was over there.
“I thought you were going to fall,” she whimpered.
“Not a chance.” Acid replied, pushing Spook’s arms down. “Just showboating.”
She rolled her head around her shoulders. Over on the horizon, a cusp of a new day’s sun painted the sky with rich magenta and orange. In an hour’s time it would be morning. The final day of the hunt, and the closing ceremony.
But not if Acid could help it.
“Here, take my hand.” Magda appeared over the side, holding her arm out for Spook.
“Go on,” Acid told her. “I’ve got you.” She cupped her hands together as Spook stepped up with her good leg. With one hand on Acid’s shoulder and the other gripping Magda’s hand, they hoisted her up. Once her legs had wriggled out of sight, Acid stepped back, expecting Magda to return to help her.
“Hey,” she shouted up. “Can someone give me a hand now?”
Nothing.
Bloody amateurs.
It only vindicated Acid’s belief: relying on others slowed you down, got in the way. She ran her attention up the side of the cliff. A coarse tree root hung down over the edge of the cliff that, if she got up on her toes, she could about reach. Without giving it a second thought she jumped for it, pulling herself up with a deep grunt. It was hard work, but she managed to haul her arms and shoulders over the cliff top.
“Come on, guys.”
She was fumbling around for a foothold, when she looked up, alarmed to see Spook standing a few feet from the edge and her cute features crumpled with terror and regret. A small hunting knife was at her throat, held by Magda who stood behind her with her other arm wrapped around Spook’s chest.
“What the fuck?”
“Stop right there,” Magda snapped, the Eastern Bloc accent gone, replaced with West Coast American. “One move and I’ll slit the bitch’s throat.” She pressed the tip of the knife into Spook’s neck. Right over the jugular. She wasn’t messing around.
“What are you doing? What do you want?” Acid asked, straining with the exertion of hanging there.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Magda barked. “I want to win. And I want to see you suffer.”
“Magda, I don’t know what they’ve said to you but—”
“Please, Acid Vanilla. My name isn’t Magda. It’s Karen. Karen Clarkson.”
Spook gasped.
Acid grimaced.
“That’s right. I believe you knew my big brother.”
Bollocks. She had known something was off. “And Logan back there? Your friend?”
“That pathetic loser? I killed him, of course. Got me ten thousand points. I was about to head back to my room when I saw you off in the distance. So I hid my rifle, staged the whole thing.” She licked a grey
tongue across her teeth and grinned. “Not bad, hey? I used to do a bit of acting here and there. Girl’s still got it.”
“Commendable,” Acid said dryly. “Okay, let me up, we’ll do what you say.”
Magda – Karen – sneered bitterly. “Oh no, Acid. You’re far too much hard work. Can’t risk it. I’m happy with this one.” She pulled Spook backwards, pushing the knife into her flesh.
“You expect me to let you take her?” Acid rasped.
Karen’s nostrils flared hungrily. “No, toots. What I expect is for you to regret everything you’ve done. But I’d suggest you do it fast.” She threw Spook to the ground. “I’d say you’ve got about thirty seconds before you hit the rocks.”
On the word ‘rocks’ Karen stepped forward and delivered a hard boot to Acid’s face, bursting her nose open on impact. A blinding pain shot through her sinuses. Somewhere Spook screamed, drowned out only by the static crackle of the bats. Acid held on, groping desperately for purchase. But Karen went again, another boot, this time connecting with Acid’s eye socket followed by a stamp on her fingers, grinding down with the heel of her boot.
Acid gritted her teeth. Screwed her face up. Tried to hang on. But the pain was too much. Her head was numb. Her system burned with adrenaline, the old fight-or-flight hormone trying its best. But she had nothing left. Nowhere to go but down. With one last gasp, she let go and fell.
Twenty-Seven
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Luther Clarkson yelled into Jerry’s startled face. “She’s got Horowitz?”
The meek assistant wiped a shaking hand across his cheek, before turning his attention back to the ever-present tablet. “I’m afraid so, sir. She’s already registered the capture with the hunt co-ordinator.”
“Goddamn it.”
It was happening again. Despite Karen being two years Luther’s junior (the youngest of the Clarkson brood) she always seemed to get one over on him. On grade eight piano whilst he was struggling to pass grade six. Captain of her softball team. Popular as hell at school. Even got into Kappa Alpha Theta at Yale, whilst Luther got himself mixed up in the damned Delta Kappa Epsilon scandal.
Not that Luther didn’t love his little sister. He did. Loved her as much as he loved any member of his family. Which was to say, not a lot, but what irked him most about Karen was she always landed on her feet. No matter what. She wasn’t even supposed to be here this weekend. She’d arrived late. Bought her way onto the hunt at the last minute. This was why she wasn’t on any of the guest lists. But from what Jerry was saying, it was because she’d been missed off that she’d been able to bag herself Horowitz.
“So what happens now?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the enormous four-poster bed in the centre of his room.
Jerry squinted at the screen, scrolling down with a stubby digit. “She’s being taken to the basement. There are cells down there. They’ll keep her there until the ceremony.” He looked up at his boss, trying to lighten the mood with the fakest smile you would ever see. “That’s this afternoon. She’ll get what’s coming to her.”
Luther lay back on the bed. “Yes, but I wanted to be the one to do it.”
“You’ve still got a good score, sir. Three kills to your name. Pretty good.”
“It’s not about the damn score, Jerry.” Luther sat upright. “I spent a lot of money to get Horowitz and Acid Vanilla on the island. It should be me avenging Kent’s death.”
He slid off the bed and marched over to the large window, looking down on the island. A soft haze muted the view.
“At least you kept it in the family,” Jerry tried.
“What about this Acid woman? We have news on her?”
More swiping at the tablet. “Not a hundred percent certain, sir. There were reports yesterday she’d also been captured. But no positive ID as yet.”
Luther stretched his arms and yawned. “Fine. If you can’t tell me, I’ll go ask Engel myself.”
He strode over to the bed and grabbed up his silk robe, wrapping it around him as he made for the door.
“Should we bother him?” Jerry snivelled, following on behind as Luther strode purposefully down the corridor.
“Yes, we should damn well bother him. This is my hunt as much as his. I want to know what the hell is going on.”
He reached the end of the corridor and stabbed his finger repeatedly on the elevator button. “Come on,” he muttered, bouncing from foot to foot. “Jesus Christ.”
“What the bloody hell is going on out here?”
Beowulf Caesar, sticking his head out of his room and into Luther’s business. The last person Luther wanted to see. After his own sister, perhaps.
And wouldn’t you know it, it was her bleach-blonde head that appeared next, from the room a few doors down.
“Lu-ther,” she sang, like butter wouldn’t melt. “What’s wrong, hun? You seem sorta stressed.”
Luther pursed his lips. “I’m going to see Engel,” he said. “I’m sick of being brushed over.”
“Now, now, dear boy,” Caesar drawled, in those affected tones. “Why don’t we all calm down. We’re all on the same side, aren’t we?”
He glided over to Luther and put an arm around his shoulder. Caesar was a big man. Overweight, yes, tall, broad, also, but it was more than that. He had a real presence about him. Oozed confidence. Made Luther sick.
“I don’t want to calm down,” he huffed, shrugging the arm away. “I’m being made a fool of. I paid you a small fortune to get those bitches here.”
“Yes, and I’m delighted you got in touch,” Caesar replied. “I was so glad to hear there were no hard feelings. But this is Mr Engel’s event. His island. Come on, why don’t you have a drink with us?”
Luther glanced up at him, taking in his bald cranium and thick-set features. “Isn’t it a little early to be drinking?” he asked.
Caesar grinned, exposing his gold canine teeth. “It’s never too early for a drink, dear boy.” He placed a hand on the small of Luther’s back, guiding him into his suite. Luther resisted at first. Didn’t like Caesar touching him like that. Too sexual. But screw it, maybe a drink would help.
“You really need to chill out, Luth,” Karen said, following them. “This is a vacation, remember? Supposed to be fun.”
She strolled over and joined Caesar’s lackey (some Arab girl Luther hadn’t been introduced to) on a large white leather couch.
“Fiery Hot Boy?” Caesar asked, appearing over Luther’s shoulder and handing him a frosted martini glass full to the brim with bright red liquid. “One of my own inventions.”
Luther took a sip and pulled a face. Placed it down on the low coffee table. “Why are we sitting around here?” He sighed. “Aren’t there targets still out there?”
“Apparently not,” Caesar said. “Your sister here was just telling me how she’d done us all an enormous favour.”
“That’s right,” Karen said, placing an arm over the back of the couch. “Got Horowitz for the closing ceremony and sent the weird girlfriend to her death.”
Luther sat up when he heard this. “You got them both?”
“Sure did.”
“And you’re absolutely sure Acid Vanilla is dead?” Caesar asked, sitting down on the arm of the couch. “Because I’ve made that mistake myself. Don’t underestimate that girl’s ability to survive.”
“She’s dead all right. I saw her bounce off the ledge below and disappear down the side of the cliff face. No one could survive that fall. No one. I imagine right now her broken body is being ripped apart by scavengers.”
Caesar grinned, showcasing those gold teeth again. Except there was something else behind his eyes, Luther noticed. Not sorrow exactly, but he wasn’t as happy as this outward display might suggest.
“All we have to do now, is enjoy the closing ceremony,” Caesar said, real energy behind his smile now. He raised his glass in the air and Karen and the lackey did the same. Obligingly, Luther followed suit.
“To us,” Caesar bell
owed. “And to the closing ceremony of this amazing hunt. From what I’ve heard, it’s going to be a real bloody treat. With emphasis on the bloody.”
Twenty-Eight
It was true. Acid Vanilla had hit the stone ledge hard. The violent momentum of her fall sending her tumbling over the edge.
But she wasn’t done just yet.
With Spook’s screams ringing in her ears, she plummeted down the steep cliff face, her fingers grasping desperately at the rock. Something to hold on to. She was almost half-way down when her hand touched on something woody. A meagre vine protruding from a crevice in the rock. Her fingers closed around the fibrous plant. But she could already feel the roots giving up the ghost. It did however slow her velocity enough that she could right herself a little, shift her body around so she was sliding down the steep cliff with her back to the rock. A few feet below her the incline levelled out a little but not enough to halt her any. The jagged rocks at the bottom of the mountain were approaching fast and if she didn’t do something she was dead. She pressed herself back against the sharp unforgiving cliff face, skin torn and bruised, hands, feet and arse all applying as much friction as she could handle. Assessing the distance between her and the ground, her and a nearby cluster of tall trees, she gave it a second. And another. Then using the last strength she had she pushed off from the cliff face and launched herself into the air.
Shit, not far enough.
Her eyes blurred with the wind rush. Where was up, where was down? Where were the rocks? Arms flailing in a vain attempt to catch her fall, she braced for impact. Braced for death. Pain tore through her side, something slapped at her face. Not rock. Trees. She thrust out her legs and arms, star shape. Squeezed her eyes shut against the branches poking and scraping at her skin. Still falling too fast, still bracing for impact, every part of her tense, every part frozen in fear.
This was it.
This was really it.
Her eyes flew open in the second before she hit the ground. A quick and hard impact. A sudden stop that forced the last molecule of air from her lungs.
The Acid Vanilla Series Page 65