All The Things You Have To Burn (Grey Corp Book 1)

by Abbey, Kit

  William scowled. He was sleepy, damn it. William did not, as a rule, function at his best when he was sleepy. He scrubbed at his eyes, and then had an idea. It was an idea with a highly unlikely chance of success, but it had been a day for highly unlikely occurrences.

  He picked his way back through the crowd towards the bouncer, who rolled his eyes when he saw William’s approach.

  “I told you kid-”

  I am eighteen, thought William. Bouncer, tree, how different could they be really?

  The bouncer trailed off, and then shook his head as though to clear it. “There’s no way I’m letting you in.”

  I’m very obviously eighteen.

  “Uh…” the bouncer looked confused.

  I’m eighteen! Let me in!

  The bouncer stepped aside, but then remembered himself, and moved back in front of the entrance.

  Let me in! Let me in right now!

  Something seemed to snap inside the bouncer’s head. His eyes glazed over, and he slowly held the door open for William.

  “Don’t drink and drive, sir.”

  William stood stunned for a moment, and then quickly darted into the dark and loud interior of the club.

  Chapter 12.

  William was torn. On the one hand, that had been fucking awesome. On the other hand, his brain felt as though it was trying to stage a bloody revolution inside his skull. His vision blurred and wavered, and judging from the warm trickle running down his chin he had a blood nose.

  Still. Fucking awesome. Mind control!

  William was jazzed. William was buzzing. William was no longer in control of his legs. He slid slowly to the ground, everything fading in and out of focus.

  “Woah man, are you ok?”

  The words came from a mouth somewhere north of the skinny black jeans in front of him, but William felt quite unable to lift his head and look.

  “Here, Mark, give us a hand.”

  Hands grabbed him under each elbow, and William found himself in a more upright position, although his legs still weren’t up to the task of supporting him. The two guys holding him up were talking, and while William could hear the words, his brain was having difficulty understanding them.

  They began to half carry, half drag him towards the exit. William tried to protest, tried to explain that he needed to find Percy, but somewhere between the speech centre in his brain and his mouth the words got lost.

  They pulled him outside and dumped him on the pavement. The rush of cool air cleared William’s head a little. He was able to look up at the two guys standing in front of him, but he could not make out much more than two blurry man shaped shapes.

  “Is he ill?” asked one of the shapes. “Should we call an ambulance or something?”

  “M’ok,” managed William. Neither shape appeared to hear him.

  “Here, give me your phone. I’ll call them, you figure out if he has taken something.”

  One of them knelt down to William’s level, and became slightly less blurry. William managed to make out blond hair, and glasses.

  “What’ve you taken, man?” He looked up at his friend. “Shit, look at him. He’s just a kid.”

  “No’m not,” said William.

  “Yeah, ok, whatever you say. What’d you take?”

  William shook his head, which made everything go grey and tilty for a few seconds, but then left him feeling somewhat better. “I’m fine,” he said in a stronger voice. “Really.”

  ”Hello, I need an ambulance-”

  “No,” William managed to climb to his feet, using the wall of the club for support. “No ambulance, I’m fine.”

  The guy with the phone (who, William could now see, had a mess of curly red hair) looked sceptical, but he put the phone away. “You’re covered in blood,” he said.

  William looked down and saw that he was, indeed, covered in blood. “Oh,” he said. “Uh, my nose… Was bleeding.”

  “Right,” said the guy without curly hair.

  “Sure,” said curly hair.

  William clung miserably to the wall. His head still hurt, but at least he didn’t feel that he was in any immediate danger of collapsing.

  “How old are you?” asked the guy with curly hair, “you’re clearly not 18.”

  “Yes I am,” said William. I’m 18, he thought experimentally at them. A blinding flood of pain that made his knees go weak once more convinced William to give mind control a rest for a while.

  “No you’re not,” said curly hair, showing no effects of having been thought at. “How the hell did you manage to get in? Don’t you know the police are targeting underage drinking?”

  Not curley hair snorted. “Whatever makes them feel better about ignoring the big grey elephant.”

  “Shouldn’t talk about Grey Corp like that,” said William. He slowly let go of the wall, and while it was touch and go for a moment there, he managed to remain upright without its aid.

  “He’s only joking kid,” said curly hair. “Are you sure you don’t need a hospital?”

  “I’m looking for someone,” replied William. He craned his neck to look over at the bouncer. Was he going to have to try and get past him again?

  “Looking for who?”

  “That’s not your business.”

  Non-curly hair scowled, “hey, we helped you out man. We could’ve just left you on the floor in there.”

  William sighed. “yeah, alright. Thanks for that.”

  “So who’re you looking for then?”

  “I dunno, some guy named Percy Jameson-Smith.”

  Curly hair froze, and non-curly hair reached and grabbed William by the collar. He slammed William against the wall, and everything went grey and quiet, and then came back too bright and too loud.

  “Mark, stop it!” Curly hair grabbed his friend by the shoulders and wrenched him off of William. “What is the matter with you? Are you with Grey Corp?” The first question was aimed at straight haired Mark, and the second was for William.

  “I am,” said William, trying to sound Grey Corp-esque.

  “Damn it.” Mark took a step back, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “Well what were you expecting, Mark?” Curly hair flung the words out angrily. “If he’s here looking for me then of course he’s Grey Corp. God, you can be an idiot sometimes!”

  “Oh come one!” shouted Mark. “He looks like he’s fucking twelve years old!”

  “Hey,” said William. “I do not.”

  Curly hair shook his head at Mark, and then turned to William. “You must be new; I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

  “Yeah, I’m new.” William gingerly patted the back of his head. “Does this make you Percy Jameson-Smith?”

  Curly hair nodded. “Look,” he said, “are you going to tell them he attacked you?”

  “I didn’t attack him!” Mark was still pacing. “It was a more of a shove! A gentle nudge, even!”

  “They are just looking for an excuse to bring him in,” said Percy, “if you tell them he... Accidentally... shoved you....”

  “If you come with me,” said William, who really just wanted to go to bed, “I won’t say anything.”

  Percy nodded, “that seems fair. Alright, let’s go.” He went and spoke quietly to Mark, and then gestured for William to lead the way.

  “You see,” shouted Mark at their retreating backs, “this is why you don’t help people!”

  Chapter 13.

  Rowan was sitting on the bonnet of the Mustang examining in her nails when William stumbled out of the alley, Percy in tow.

  Percy nodded at her. “Aunt Ro.”

  She nodded back. “Percy.”

  Percy climbed into the back of the car. For a moment William considered taking off a shoe and throwing it at Rowan’s head, but in the end he simply got into the front seat and lent against the cool of the window.

  Chapter 14.

  The next morning found W
illiam once again sharing an elevator with the scary man. His headache from the night before, still clinging persistently to his brain with little razor blade claws, helped counteract the fear. He lent against the wall of the elevator, and pressed his forehead up against the smooth sides. But instead of the coolness he’d been expecting, he found the grey surface to be warm, almost hot.

  He jerked his poor, hurting, head back with a sad little noise.

  It sounded like the man laughed, but when William spun around to look at him, his face was as blank.

  “Headache?” The man asked mildly.

  William nodded miserably.

  “Everyone gets them when they first start.”

  William perked up a little at this. “Yeah?”

  “Comes from using parts of your brain you’re not used to using.”

  William considered his words. “Oh. So, does that mean everyone here can think at stuff?”

  “Think at stuff?” The man definitely sounded amused.

  “What’s funny?” William had a sore head and was in no mood to be laughed at.

  “It’s just an odd way to put it, ‘thinking at stuff.’ Accurate though.”

  After a day and a half of being told absolutely nothing, William jumped on this chance to glean some answers. “What’s it called then? This ability?”

  The elevator slowed to a stop, but instead of opening its doors, it shook for a moment, and began to rise again. The man did not look at all put out by this, so William didn’t say anything. After all, he wasn’t running late today, and had time to spare for temperamental machines.

  “Illuding.”

  “Oh.” William muttered the word to himself a few times, trying it out. “And everyone here has this Illuding thing?”

  “Some more than others.” The elevator abruptly changed direction again, and this time the man looked a little annoyed. He didn’t do anything about it though, instead asking William, “why did you think you were hired?”

  “I dunno, because I’m just so darn pretty?”

  “Or because people with Illuding abilities are no longer common, so they’ll let anyone in with even a hint of it.”

  “Oh. No longer? So it was common, once?”

  “You ask a lot of questions. Your mentor is supposed to tell you these things.”

  “What, Rowan?” William said. “She barely tolerates me breathing, I’m not gonna push it by asking questions as well.”

  “Wise.” He pushed his sleeve back, once again revealing scars, and consulted his watch. “Illuding was common, when Grey Corp was young. But not anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  He shrugged. “Video games and fast food, probably. Digital music and smart phones.”

  “So, not because Albert is weak and the well is growing old?”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s just something I heard somewhere, is all,” William mumbled.

  “It’s not my job to worry about Albert,” he said after a long pause. “It’s not yours either.”

  William took the point, and shut up. Though rode in silence for a while, and William wondered why they didn’t do something about these incredibly inefficient elevators. It slowed once more, and finally began to descend. The man checked his watch again then said “I heard you did well at the Jameson-Smith house.”

  “Yeah?” William felt quite pleased with himself, which took the edge off his headache much more effectively than the four Panadol he’d downed in the bathroom.

  “Mmm. The Boss was impressed.”

  William wondered if this was why this man was being much more friendlier with him today than yesterday. He could almost entirely suppress the desire to flee in terror from his presence. Almost.

  “Making the tree believe it was a tree wasn’t so hard, really. It didn’t even make my head hurt at all,” said William as the elevator drew to a halt and opened to reveal the entry room, “but making that bouncer believe I was 18? That was some work. And painful! I thought my brain was going to ooze out my nose.”

  He moved to step out of the elevator, but was stopped by the man’s very strong grip on his arm. It was like being held in a concrete vice, and yet the man didn’t appear to expending any effort whatsoever. His mild demeanour was gone, removed like a mask, revealing something much, much, worse.

  “What bouncer.” It was like a pack of blood frenzied great white sharks turned into words.

  “Um,” William desperately wanted to be far, far away from this man and his freaky, almost colourless eyes. “Last night, I had to get that kid out of the club, but I had no ID, so I just thought at the bouncer that I was 18 to get in and let go of me please now.”

  The man did not let go. “Rowan’s report said you found Jameson-Smith outside the club.”

  “Uh, no, I mean, I went in,” said William, talking very fast, “but my head hurt and I fell down and him and his friend helped me out and then-”

  “Rowan doesn’t know this?”

  “Uh, no, I guess not. Unless Percy told her. But, I mean, I don’t think he knows about the Bouncer, he only saw me afterwards. Can you let me go now?”

  Rowan stepped into the entry room from the side door. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  William tried to pull himself away, which achieved exactly nothing. The man yanked him forward with one arm, and with other he grabbed William by the hair and brought his head up close to his own. William was convinced that the man was about the tear his throat out with his teeth, but all he felt was lips pressed close to his ear.

  “Do not tell anyone about the bouncer,” he hissed, low and dangerous, “and do not attempt it again. Understand?” The last word was punctuated with a sharp tug on William’s hair.

  “Yes, yes, I understand. Let me go. Let me go now.” To William’s immense relief, this time the man complied.

  He bolted across Albert’s room to Rowan’s side, actually happy to see her. At that moment, he would have gladly cut of any number of his fingers and laid them at her feet.

  “He’s a bit young isn’t he Jones?” Said Rowan, smirking,

  The man, (Jones, felt William firmly, was not an appropriate name for a man that could give Albert (don’t look up, don’t look up…) a run for his money in the nightmare inducing stakes), did not reply. He shot one last penetrating look in William’s direction, and then brushed by them and out the front doors.

  Chapter 15.

  “You’re early,” Rowan said, arms folded and eyes glaring.

  William jammed his hands in his jeans pockets, hiding his poor innocent fingers from view. “You didn’t tell me not to be?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She got into the elevator William had just vacated, and when he didn’t immediately follow, shot him a nasty look. “Well? Hurry up.”

  Which would be worse, riding in an elevator with Jones, or with Rowan? It looked like he was about to find out. Before he could step inside a great dollop of something gooey hit the back of William’s neck. It made his insides tingle, like his bloodstream was full of pop rocks. The sensation faded quickly. He shivered and slapped a hand to his neck.

  “Albert’s having a drippy day,” said Rowan.

  William looked down at the greenish goo smeared on his hand and gagged. He wiped it hastily on his jeans and joined Rowan in the elevator.

  “I don’t like you,” she said as soon as the doors whooshed shut.

  William didn’t much like her either, but he wasn’t going to say so. He bet she would just jump at the chance to dob him into Mr. Grey and get him fired, or cut off his tongue. Or both. He wiped his hand again and said nothing. She stared at him for a bit, and when it became clear he wasn’t going to reply she rolled her eyes and lent against the wall of the elevator. “I liked it better when we had standards,” she muttered.

  Oh yeah, thought William, well I liked it better when-

  -she was waking up slowly to the sound of raindrops splatteri
ng heavily against canvas. There was the hissing, spitting noise of rain against fire, and an abundance of birdsong. The smell of bacon was enough to coax her head out of the warm sleeping bag. She was in a tent, a blue one. And it was cold. Very cold. The bacon did not smell as good as the sleeping bag was warm.

  She burrowed back down. Somewhere outside of this toasty haven was the sound of a zipper, and then someone was jabbing through the sleeping bag.

  “Rise and shine poppet, breaky’s ready!” He was far too cheerful for the ungodly hour.

  “No, Jude, go away.” She wriggled deeper into the bag-

  The elevator doors whooshed open again, and William jumped. He looked to Rowan, who was still leaning against the wall and inspecting her fingernails. He looked to the elevators newest occupants, a tall black man and a kid who looked not much older than he. They were both staring at William, the black guy hiding his curiosity better than the kid. William wondered if he looked as freaked out as he felt. What the hell just happened? He liked to daydream as much as the next guy, but not like that! He had been able to smell the bacon on the air, and feel the chill of the morning against his skin. Nevermind the fact that William’s daydreams rarely involved nature. Guitars and groupies, yes, not trees and rain. He consulted his watch. If it could be trusted, they’d been in the elevator for less than a minute. Could he have fallen asleep? Because, you know, William drifted off standing up all the time.

  The elevator was moving downwards once more, and nobody was saying anything. William looked at his feet. It was no use; he could still feel the two new guys staring at him. His sneakers looked very scuffed and worn next to their neat and shiny black boots. There were several pairs of shoes just like that in his new wardrobe, but William figured his old chucks had brought him this far in life, they could take him a little further yet. Thinking about shoes was good. It was comforting. Shoes didn’t care if William had just had an inexplicable and really weird vision. He glanced to the side. His face was warped in the silver wall of the elevator, but aside from that it didn’t look any different. He’d half expected to see ‘CRAZY GUY IS CRAZY!’ written across his forehead.