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

by Abbey, Kit

  “We,” she announced, “are not vampires.”

  She waved an imperious hand at the window and the curtains obediently drew themselves back. His suspicion was confirmed; this was a high up floor. From this window William could see more of the city than he had from any other window in the building, and the rolling hills that encircled it. He wouldn’t have been surprised if this was the very top floor.

  Both Mr. Grey and Nobody looked a little put out by all the sunlight that was now invading the room, although neither of said a word about it. Madeline turned her attention to a spot of carpet, and within seconds a fluffy green pillow (which managed the impressive feat of clashing with every single thing in the room) appeared there. She plopped down, and helped herself to a lamington.

  William took this as a cue and grabbed one for himself.

  “Are you well recovered, Mr. Black?” asked Mr. Grey.

  “Yup, all better,” William replied around a mouthful of sponge and chocolate and coconut.

  “Good, good.” He turned to Madeline and said, “I see you’ve found an appropriate specimen Madeline. And your name is?”

  The man wrung his hands. “Dale,” he said. “Is someone going to tell me why I’m here?”

  Madeline wiped a stray bit of coconut from her cheek.

  “He works with computers.” She said the word computer slowly and precisely as though she’d only learned it recently. “He had the weakest mind I’ve encountered in years.”

  “Excellent,” said Mr. Grey.

  “Excuse me,” said Dale. “I’ll have you know I was top of my year at university!” The perceived insult gave Dale confidence, and he stood up, full of bluster. “Now, look here,” he said. “You people might think you’re above the law, but you can’t just kidnap people off the street in broad daylight! I don’t care how much good you supposedly do in the community-”

  “Sit down please,” said Mr. Grey.

  “No I will not sit-“

  Madeline coughed, and a gun appeared in her hand. Dale sat down.

  “As I said before, Mr. Black,” said Mr. Grey, “your actions last week were very impressive. But, we must ask ourselves-”

  “I did come all the way up here to watch you listen to the sound of your own voice,” interrupted Madeline. Mr. Grey stopped talking. “Better,” she said. She turned to face William. “All the top floor hot shots want to know if your little theatrics were a one off, or if you can do it again on command. There is also a great deal of curiosity as to what else you can do.”

  “Ok,” said William.

  “Dale,” said Mr. Grey (and William got the feeling he was trying hard not to look like he was listening to himself talk), “is here to help us in these enquiries.”

  William hoped they didn’t expect him to try and kill the guy, because he was fairly sure that being slightly pompous did not automatically warrant death.

  “I don’t want to kill him,” he said before anyone if the room could voice the suggestion.

  “Kill me?” Dale looked like he was about to make a run for it, but the soft padding on the arms of the chair suddenly became metal cuffs, which pinned him there. “Oh,” he said. “Oh dear.” Dale looked helplessly around the room, and his eyes settled upon the grey orb on the coffee table. His eyes widened slightly, and-

  -He hadn’t been in a limousine since his brother’s wedding, four years ago. It would be fun, if he wasn’t so terrified. What did Grey Corp want with him? What could he possibly have done to offend them?

  The old duck who’d walked into his office like she owned the place was discussing something with one of the big bodyguards. “It’s an orb of Zane,” she said. She opened her bag wide enough for the guard to see it, and he saw it too. A grey ball, smooth and shiny. “It brings instant death to any who touch it.”

  He was not surprised to learn that the Grey Corp had things like instant death orbs. Oh, sure they acted like all they cared about was the community, but everyone knew they had their own agenda. His cousin claimed they bred monsters in their basement. He said-

  William blinked, and he was himself again. He’d hoped the elevator incident was a one off event, and now those hopes were dashed. He looked quickly around the room. No one seemed to have noticed his lapse.

  “Our primary concern right now, Mr. Black,” said Mr. Grey, “is to determine what else you may be capable of. Why did you ask Madeline if it was possible to Illude directly inside people’s heads?”

  William jerked in surprise at the sudden question. “I don’t know,” he said, “I was just curious. I mean, it seemed like it would be cool, if it were even possible.”

  “Have you ever attempted it, Mr. Black?”

  “Madeline told me not to.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  The question was a simple one, but William was torn. Should he continue to lie, or should he disobey Jones and tell the truth?

  Mr. Grey filled William’s silence. “It requires great strength of mind to do the things you did Mr. Black. Just as it takes great strength of mind to manipulate another man’s thoughts. You’ve never done this, Mr. Black?” He took a step towards William. “You’ve never even attempted it?”

  “Tell the truth,” said Madeline, “you’ll not be in any trouble.”

  William wondered desperately if they already knew about the bouncer, and this was just a test. Maybe Jones was in on it. Maybe they were testing his loyalty. It was awful, this feeling of uncertainty.

  “Mr. Black?” Mr. Grey prompted. “Is our query especially difficult?”

  An angry throb was starting up in his head. Brain damage, William thought hysterically, remembering what Mr. Grey had said.

  “Sorry,” said William, “I’m still a little tired from everything.” They were all staring at him, awaiting an answer. Which was William willing to risk; his budding criminal career, or making Jones angry? Well, when you put it that way...

  “Yes,” he said, “I tried to do it once, after I spoke to Madeline. But nothing happened.”

  “Nothing?” asked Mr. Grey.

  “Your head didn’t hurt at all?” asked Nobody.

  “You disobeyed me?” asked Madeline.

  “Nothing happened, my head didn’t hurt at all and, uh, sorry?”

  Madeline grumbled to herself. “I should have your neck for that, boy.”

  “It may be,” said Mr. Grey, “that the individual you tried upon had too strong a mind for whatever fledgling abilities you may possess. You should attempt it again”

  “That won’t be a problem with him,” said Madeline, jerking her chin in Dale’s direction, “got a mind as weak as cobwebs.”

  “Let us try something simple,” said Mr. Grey. “Make Dale recite a nursery rhyme.”

  “Ok,” said William. He stared at Dale and very carefully thought nothing at all. “I don’t think it’s working,” he said after a minute or so of intent staring.

  “Has the attempt at least resulted in any head pain?” Asked Mr. Grey.

  “No,” said William.

  “Damn it to hell!” shouted Nobody. He pounded the mantel above the fireplace and turned his back to the room. The suddenness of the outburst made William jump, but no one else reacted at all.

  “Very well, Mr. Black,” said Mr. Grey, “let us see if you are at least able to reproduce what we know you have done before.”

  “Before we begin,” said Madeline, “pass me the Orb of Zane. It’s that grey ball on the coffee table.”

  Well. This was sneaky of them. William had never seen that orb before. If the ball was actually harmless and if he refused to touch it they would want to know why, and he would have to admit to the weird visions he kept having, visions that he knew were connected to what he did to the bouncer. But, what if touching the ball really did mean instant death? Maybe they’d decided if he couldn’t Illude inside heads there was no point keeping him around.

  It was a neat little trap.
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  “William, pass me the orb.”

  Instant death by orb was probably better than slow death by Jones. There was nothing for it; he was going to have to call their bluff. William braced himself and lent forward and grabbed the orb, (Dale gasped in horror). He tossed it to Madeline, who caught it easily.

  Like mist escaping when the freezer door opens, a great deal of tension suddenly left the room. Madeline slumped back, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

  “May as well see if you’ve got some use in you,” she said. With one hand she reached for another lamington, and in the other appeared a knife, which she threw at Dale.

  It lodged itself in his shoulder, and he let out a shout of pain and surprise. A great deal of blood rushed from wound to greet the world, staining his shirt and running down his arm.

  “You appear to have struck an artery,” commented Mr. Grey.

  “So I have,” said Madeline. She looked over at William. “Well go on then, heal him.”

  William quickly stood up, which made his brain give a particularly vicious throb, and he nearly fell back down again. He managed to remain upright and get across the room to Dale, who was staring down at the wound with a bewildered look on his face.

  “Oh my god,” he said. And then when that didn’t help, he said it again. And then again. Blood was running gleefully down his harm and onto the floor in a steady patter; already a sizeable puddle had formed. William stared at it, at a compete and awful loss as to what to do.

  “You might want to hurry, Mr. Black,” said Mr. Grey.

  William tried desperately to remember how he’d helped Rowan, but it was no good. What had seemed so clear and obvious then was lost to him now. He gripped the handle of the knife and pulled it out. Dale groaned and promptly lost consciousness. William Illuded wildly at the wound, with no result. He tried again, adding more pressure, and for a moment he was sure that his already aching brain was about to boil and ooze out of his ears. The wound remained.

  He groaned, partly in frustration, mostly in pain.

  “I don’t know what to do,” he said. “I don’t remember how I healed Rowan, I don’t know how to help him!”

  Mr. Grey sighed, and Madeline shook her head.

  “Are you just going to let him die?” demanded William. “Do something!”

  “I suppose we’d better,” said Madeline. She slowly got to her feet and came to stand by William. She placed a hand against Dale’s chest, and within a few seconds the passage of blood down his arm slowed to a stop.

  “This is most disappointing,” said Mr. Grey.

  Madeline shrugged. “It’s not unheard of for those with the barest iota of power to perform amazing feats at times of great stress. And we know that the boy has more than an iota in him. Give it some time.”

  Mr. Grey nodded, and said thoughtfully, “perhaps Mr. Black would benefit from some additional time with Albert.”

  The only reason William didn’t voice an emphatic no at this suggestion was because his every part of him abruptly froze in terror at the thought, vocal chords included.

  “That might have helped a decade ago,” said Madeline, “but Albert’s too weak now.”

  Nobody pounded the mantle again.

  Mr. Grey sighed. “I dare say your assertion is correct.” He sighed again. “Return to your normal duties, Mr. Black.”

  William decided this was a dismissal, and if it wasn’t he would damn well make it one. He nodded once and made for the door.

  “Oh, and William?” He turned to look at Madeline. “This is for disobeying me.”

  A sharp edged ninja star was suddenly flying towards him at an alarming speed. Without thinking William Illuded, and centimetres from his chest it turned into a paper aeroplane. It hit him and harmlessly drifted to the ground.

  Madeline burst into cackling laughter, “see! There’s hope for the boy yet!”

  Chapter 28.

  William met Rowan in the entrance room at seven thirty the next morning.

  “Where were you yesterday?” was her idea of a greeting.

  “What?” asked William, distracted by the unpleasant way the carpet squelched under his feet. He lifted his chucks and saw the souls were covered in what he had begun to think of as ‘Albert-matter.’ It made his skin tingly madly when it touched him, and his powers spike and ebb erratically. Also, it was really gross.

  “Dr. Eagle kicked you out of the ward early yesterday, why didn’t you meet me here?”

  “Mr. Grey had me tested,” said William, “to see if I could perform on command.”

  “And could you?”

  “Not as such, no.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I figured it was just a fluke.”

  “Well, fluke or not, you’re lucky I pulled it off,” said William.

  Rowan shrugged. “Whatever.” This, apparently, was as close to a thank you as he was going to get. “Was that all you were the tested for?” she asked him.

  “They also wanted to see if I could Illude in people’s heads and make them do stuff, and stuff.”

  “And stuff,” repeated Rowan mockingly. Then she added more thoughtfully, “I suspected he would have you up there and tested for that quick smart. I’m guessing by your presence here that you failed to show any aptitude for it?”

  William nodded. “Yeah, I was no good.”

  “It’d been nearly a century since there was an Employee who could Illude in people’s heads,” she said. “Mr Grey’s getting anxious, trying find another.” She looked William up and down and curled her lip, “which explains why he was desperate enough to test the likes of you. I keep telling them you're not so great.”

  “If I’m not so great then why aren’t you dead?” William asked as he followed her out the door.

  She chose to pretend she hadn’t heard him.

  Chapter 29.

  It was late by the time Rowan returned the Mustang to Grey Corp’s underground car park. William gratefully got out of the car, rubbing at his eyes. They hadn’t done anything overly strenuous, the most notable event of the day had been making a handful of small, twinkling diamonds look like buttons. Still, he felt as though he’d swum out to sea and back with a sack of rocks tied to each foot. He wondered how long it would be until his strength would return to him fully.

  Together they climbed the short stairway out of the car park and into the clinging, hot, city night air. From here it was short walk down the street to the black doors of the Grey building. The road skirted the edge of the river, and the gentle noise of the water mingled with the steady thrum of traffic on the bridge that arched over the river a short way away.

  It was a peaceful, soothing walk. Which should have been enough to warn William that something un-peaceful and un-soothing would be waiting for him in the entrance room. Something other than Albert, that was.

  A familiar, grey haired man stood in front of the Western elevator. It was the weird guy William had met way back on his first day. A great glob of Albert-matter appeared to have dripped on his arm. (William wondered if maybe Albert was more or less leaky depending on the time of the month. He wasn’t anywhere near game enough to look up and see if there were any physical changes, but he definitely seemed to dribble more crap down onto the carpet on some days as opposed to others) He was wiping at it with a handkerchief, without much success.

  At the sight of the man Rowan groaned, and looked as though she might turn and walk back out of the building again. Before she could the man looked up and spotted them. “Ah!” He called, “Rowan!”

  She sighed, and then began to cross the room towards him. “Hello Francis. William, this is Francis Filk, the Mr Grey’s personal assistant.”

  He beamed up at her and turned his attention to William. “Oh ho, Mr. Black, how wonderful to see you again.”

  “Thanks,” said William. He held out his hand, and Filk shook it with both of his. William’s stomach gave a hysterical lurch as he realised that Filk’s han
ds were damp with the Albert-matter he’d been wiping from his arm.

  “Oh the pleasure is all mine! All mine, indeed!” said Filk. “I wonder, Mr. Black, if you couldn’t spare a few moments? You and I need to have a little chat!”

  Rowan looked like she wanted to crow in triumph. “I’ll just leave you to it then,” she said. “It was good to see you Francis.”

  “You too my dear.”

  Rowan stepped pass them both, turning to flash William a wide grin that conveyed a very clear message of, ‘sucks to be you!’

  “Now, Mr. Black, may I call you Bill?”

  “I’d really prefer William.”

  “Good, good, now Bill, why don’t we move somewhere a little less, er, well, you know.” He made a vague gesture at the room around them, and then walked over to the eastern elevator. With a sigh, William followed.

  Filk placed a small palm against the elevator wall, and nothing happened. “Ah, yes, well,” he said with a chuckle, “I’ve never quite gotten the hang of these blasted things. Do you mind Bill? Floor 27, if you please, we can talk over a few brews, eh?”

  William (not Bill) thought at the elevator, and it glided into motion.

  “Oh!” Said Francis, “you don’t need to have contact with the thing to achieve results?”

  “No,” said William, who had realised on his third day at Grey Corp that he could direct the elevators with greater ease using just his mind.

  “My, my! I can see why the Boss is so impressed by you!”

  William snorted. “I doubt he’s still impressed, after my efforts yesterday.”

  “Ah, now, that’s part of what we need to discuss! Chin up, Bill!”

  “William.”

  “Of course, of course!” Filk started to dig around in his pockets. He removed one of his little pills and moved to swallow it, but froze just before it reached his mouth. “Oh my! That was close.” He held his hands up for William to see the globs of Albert matter stuck to them. “It’s highly toxic you know. My hip will just have to wait a little longer.”

  If they knew the stuff was toxic then at some point someone must have ingested the stuff. William’s guts did a slow turn at the thought. The elevator, as though sensing William’s dislike of the small man, didn’t waste any time in taking them to floor 27. (The Eastern elevator liked him more than the Western one). Filk spent the rest of the short trip telling William about his collection of swords and medieval armour. (“Come and have a look any time you like Bill, I’m room 17 on the 30th floor. One above you, I believe.”)