The Cost of Magic (The Ethan Cole Series Book 1)

by Andrew Macmillan

  In Cole’s peripheral vision, Millar thought.

  ‘Why do they all hate you so much then? The soldiers and the rest of them?’

  Because Cole was an unexploded nuke. ‘They hate me because I’m such a fucking male model. Smarten up, kid.’

  Ethan, why are you always so spikey? Nat’s question floated down the years to him.

  Millar huffed. ‘I was just asking. I was going to say it doesn’t seem fair to me, but I think I might be catching on to why they all hate you.’

  For the love of the gods. ‘I’m sorry, little prince, did I hurt your feelings?’

  Millar made a show of leafing through the files in quick motions. ‘Cole, you don’t have to be such a dick all the time, man. I’m trying to help you. And you’re not making it easy at all.’

  The sullen yards ticked by. How come everyone Cole met ended up in lecture mode sooner or later? Millar put the file away and started wagging his finger. ‘You know, people like you are all the same.’ This had to be good. Cole said nothing. ‘You’re one of those people who let their problems rule them. Boo hoo, poor me – I’ve got problems. My life is so hard. It’s not my fault. Everyone treats me so badly. That’s what you sound like, man. Boo hoo, I got superpowers, and I use them to fight evil, and nobody likes me because of that, not because I’m an arse to everyone.’

  Superpowers? Fighting evil? Gods, that was a frosted icing view of the world. Whisky burned Cole’s gullet as his fist squeezed the flask rhythmically. It swam, waking. His heart pumped. Black flakes fell from the sky. Gods be, he was on a hair trigger. It was ridiculous. He had to keep his shit together. Kid didn’t know any better. And something was true in the midst of all that horse shit, Cole’s heart knew it. Which was probably why the ash had started falling from the sky.

  Was Cole really a whinger? He hated whingers. Fuck this kid, calling him anything. Millar walked around in those clothes, with that haircut. His pulse slowed at the sight of the ridiculously dressed boy. Part of him wanted to blow up, to scare the kid into silence, but he couldn’t. Just as he couldn’t shout at Millar for not getting what he didn’t understand. Millar needed his help as much as anyone. Kid had been given the worst job going by the Council. The bit of Cole that was still soft, despite everything, blanketed the fires.

  Cole smiled at Millar. ‘I’m not an arse to everybody.’ Millar’s eyes widened, opening his mouth to argue, but it died on his lips. ‘I’m only a bit of an arse to some people.’ That much was true.

  Millar shook his head. ‘Oh, only a bit of an arse. Well, that’s great for some. And how much would you rate as a bit? Quantify it for me.’

  Cole thought. ‘Three out of ten, if I really like you. If you look like Natalia.’

  Millar fluttered his eyelashes. ‘Yeah, well, lucky her. Man, I’d be chuffed to bits if you were a three out of ten arse with me. Rather than this jacked-up-to-eleven arse you’ve been rocking.’

  Wee bastard. Cole shrugged. ‘Fine, let’s work toward a seven out of ten arse then. Cheeky wee shite.’

  Cole hadn’t heard Millar laugh properly before; his laugh was goofy.

  ‘Can I live in the hope of coming down to the hallowed three out of ten at some point?’

  It was hard to stay angry at the kid. Henry Millar was sticking around. Cole had pushed him pretty hard the last few hours, but the kid was staying put.

  ‘Maybe I’ll come down to three out of ten, but you’ve got to learn to lecture better. Seriously. That was lacklustre. Two out of ten.’

  The Links – their destination – was a minute away. Millar walked side-on, facing him. ‘You’re saying my lecture was weaker than your nicest level of arseyness?’ The bottom of the Walk was crowded, people going about their day.

  ‘Believe me, pal. You should see Natalia. Or Nessie – the Commander? Love of the gods, when they go for it, it gets rough.’

  They crossed the road, making their way to the right, along Duke Street. Millar threw his hands up. ‘Wonder why that is, eh? You get punched a lot, Cole?’

  Cole couldn’t help his smile. ‘Yeah, I do as it happens. It’s why I’m so pretty. And it doesn’t seem right. I’m usually only a five out of ten arse before I’ve made my mind up about people. For the real idiots – the cream of the crop, you understand – the absolute worst, I’ll dial it up to maybe an eight.’

  They turned left, heading toward a wide expanse of grass. ‘But for you, Millar. You’re that special case. That rare specimen.’

  Henry waved his arms. ‘I’m the specimen? Me? Cole, you are a specimen. Scientists would study you. You’ve got that fucking thing in your guts man.’ Kid had a point.

  Sat on a bench ahead, by the edge of the grass that opened into the wide park of Leith Links, was a nervous-looking woman. She was in her early twenties and had a hollow look Cole knew too well. As he had suspected, she was tithed. All the witnesses were likely to be. ‘Eyes up, Millar. There’s our witness.’

  The questioning was a hopeful punt, looking for some information that may have been missed by his esteemed colleagues. The real point of their coming here was Cole’s connection to the dark power swirling just below. The whisky flask suddenly felt small inside his jacket. As he approached the bench, there was a strong burned-green tang in the air. He scanned, looking for vampires, but in daylight that was ridiculous. Still, the air thrummed with it.

  Millar was already introducing them. The woman, whose name was Lisa, looked like she hadn’t slept in a while. They both looked to Cole. ‘Millar, you’ve read the file. Anything you want to ask?’

  Henry launched in without pause. ‘Miss Smith. you were with Roderick on the night of the fourteenth of October? At twenty-one thirty hours? And this is where the victim was taken?’ Millar wouldn’t remember this, but he’d watched far too many police procedurals on telly at some point in his past.

  Lisa indicated the bench she sat on. ‘It happened right here,’ she said. Lisa searched Henry’s face.

  ‘Are you okay, Miss?’

  The way she was looking at Millar was hard to ignore; like he was a line of cocaine in a Rottweiler’s mouth. Her top lip had the sweats, and her tremor had need wired right into it. Roderick – the fine, upstanding abductee vampire – had been feeding on her, a lot. Henry was still upset about Andrew’s Lucy. This was a great chance for a lesson in just how lost Andrew’s Lucy was likely to be.

  Lisa spoke. ‘Are you going to, you know?’ Millar’s wide eyes were full of trying to understand. He should clue the kid in, but Millar needed to learn some things about the real world.

  ‘What, Miss? I’m not sure I get you.’ The woman could hardly sit still. Recovering from being a tithed broke more than it saved.

  ‘We could, you know, go someplace.’

  Millar leaned in. ‘Is there something you need to tell me? Don’t worry, you can tell us, we are investigating what happened.’

  Lisa’s hair whipped as she shook her head. ‘Are you one of them?’

  Her voice was too full of pain; the charade had gone on long enough. ‘Millar, she wants you to feed on her, but no Miss, he’s not a vampire. And it’s daylight right now, if you even care. Get those big empty eyes off him.’

  The big empty eyes shone with tears. Millar leaned back. ‘Oh, I see. I’m so sorry, Lisa. Why would you want me to do that?’

  Because the world is shit, Mr Sunshine. They didn’t have time for Millar to get into the nuts and bolts with their witness.

  ‘Alright, you two. Enough. They get addicted, Millar, the tithed. The vampires do this to people like Lisa here. And to the Lucys and the Toms. Lucys and Toms tend to live with the vampires. People like Lisa here are just food. Feeding takes away whatever pain it is the tithed can’t outrun. But when the feeding stops, all the shit just piles up with extra nasty on top too, because now there’s less of them – less substance – to deal with it.’

  There was no sense drawing it out longer than necessary. Millar leaned back, away from Lisa. ‘That’s horrible.’ H
e wasn’t wrong, but people made choices. The air was full of vampire, unsettling Cole’s limbs. He paced; it was time to wrap this shit up.

  ‘Lisa, in the report you said Roderick just vanished. One minute, he was holding you, the next, he was gone?’ She nodded, her need pushed down behind icy cool indifference, her eyes deep in thought, until her face scrunched up.

  Then she stood, all barely concealed anger. ‘You two dragged me out here, and you’re not even vampires?’ The withdrawal from feeding did some pretty full-on stuff to people. She’d come out in the daytime looking for vampires.

  Cole ignored her. ‘Vampires don’t just disappear, so what happened?’

  Lisa looked around, as though looking for someone. ‘Do you know any vampires? Would you tell them? About me, I mean?’ Drink it in, Millar. This was how it went.

  ‘If you’ll answer my questions, sure.’

  Henry was up like a rocket. ‘You can’t do that Cole; she needs help!’ Some heads turned as people walked a safe distance around them.

  Cole pulled on the flask. ‘She certainly does, pal, but not the kind of help you’re peddling: Isn’t that right, Miss?’

  The woman was animated as she talked. ‘Okay, so first, he was doing his thing. God, I miss him, and then there was this noise. I don’t think I can describe it. It was screaming and shouting but not normal screams. Like a choir from hell or something. It sounded like people being murdered, tortured. It was so horrible, but also sort of musical. This wind picked me up and blew me right off this bench. I hurt my knee. And then the noise vanished. It was so quiet, and Roderick was gone. Nowhere to be found. Was it because of me? Did I do something wrong?’ Millar immediately moved to comfort her, idiot.

  What the fuck was going on here? This sounded like nothing that lived legally in the city. It sounded like nothing Cole even knew about, but that list was long. The burned-green in the area cloyed and stuck to the inside of his nose and mouth.

  ‘She’s going.’ Millar intruded in Cole’s eyeline. ‘She needs help, Cole! We can’t just throw her to more vampires.’

  He’d have to sense now. Chill sweat gathered on his back. ‘We don’t have time to debate the morality of the status quo, pal.’ If he could feel the trail like this here, the trail in the Murk would be strong. He should be able to follow it to wherever it went. Following a creature’s trail to gods knew where. Sometimes his job was the pits.

  Henry grabbed Cole’s arm. ‘This is shit, Cole! She’s a victim. She needs help! We can’t just leave her after what Roderick did to her!’

  Anger flexed Cole, heat curling his knuckles. It undulated. ‘This is what we do, boy. Vampires live among us, and we protect them. We feed them. Fucking hell, they’re licensed by us. Don’t you get it? There are no white knights coming to save all the pretty Lucys and Toms, and all the other fuck-ups and sad stories who fall along the way. They’re on their own. The Council doesn’t give a fuck as long as their precious Armistice is kept in place. It’s ugly and it’s shit. And it gets uglier and shittier the longer you stay in it. Forget your Lucy, pal. She’s dead inside, or she will be. And the thing is, offered a choice, she’d choose to stay with the vampire.’

  Stupid kid with his stupid questions. It was what it was. Who the fuck was Henry Millar to come along and make out like it should be any different or that Cole should be any different? He took Millar’s arm as the kid turned away and turned him back. The kid needed to get it.

  ‘They’re doing me for murder, Henry. Murder. I killed one of those scumbag vampires. I cut him into pieces. Know why? He wanted me to feed him a ten-year-old girl. And I’m the one getting done for murder. So fuck the little Miss over there and fuck your Lucy. It’s everyone for themselves.’

  He let Millar go, turning away himself. It swirled in a whisky miasma. The black oily ropes of power in the ground pulsed, visible. He had to control himself.

  And the sensing was next. These might be his last moments, shouting at a frightened kid who thought he was doing good.

  Millar sat on the bench. ‘I didn’t ask for this. I woke up in your world, Cole, and it’s a really crap world to be in. I just want to help them. I want to help Lucy. She was good to me when no one else was, and after what Andrew did to her?’

  Ah, shit. Something twanged and got sore, but then Cole’s wires sparked. Fuck that, he wouldn’t be made to feel bad. They’d made their bed. He drank more, breathing. The kid didn’t know any better. He repeated it like a mantra. The ropes of power sunk. The worst of his pent-up adrenaline bled away. It was time. ‘Millar, move. I’ve got to siphon again. Be ready to act. It could take over for real this time. You ever used a gun?’

  Millar’s face said you’re a nutter.

  ‘Never mind. You remember this dagger from my flat?’ Millar frowned then nodded as Cole took the cruelly curved weapon out and handed it to him. Millar’s eyes had that glassy look that people got when overloaded by the crap flying. Cole sat next to him. ‘If you need to, you stick me with that, okay? Knives are best used to make space. If I’m too fast, you stab me then use the wand, alright?’

  Millar’s mumbled response didn’t inspire confidence, but it would have to do. As some people passed them by, a gap opened. The kid moved off, away to the side to avoid Cole’s aura. People meandered, infuriatingly neutral and unconcerned. He had to wait for them to pass far enough away that his aura wouldn’t cause a stampede.

  ‘Cole?’

  He turned. ‘Oh gods, Millar, if this is another question …’

  Henry stalked up to him, ‘It’s not. Look here. There’s six of these disappearances. And now that I know what a euphemism for feeding looks like, check this out.’ Henry leafed through the six pages, stacked one on top the other. Millar pointed out the text. ‘They were all feeding when they were taken.’ The thin line of the kid’s mouth looked grim. ‘Does that mean anything to you, Cole?’

  It didn’t, but it was a remarkable coincidence. A bit too remarkable. Still, hunters liked to employ a range of tactics. ‘Maybe something hits the vampires while they’re distracted?’

  Millar’s head shake was brisk. ‘Nah, man. Don’t think so. All that noise and stuff. Why distract them then give them a huge tip-off you’re about to strike?’

  Millar had a good point. Cole shrugged. ‘Doesn’t help us right now.’ But it was good work.

  Henry moved off. ‘Okay, Cole, do your thing. I’ll be over here. Ready to stab you as required.’

  Cole couldn’t help but laugh. His world really was fucked-up. ‘Keep that sense of humour, Millar, but make sure you knife me good if you have to.’

  The moment had come. A long slug of whisky, and he knelt, fingers brushing the oily power snaking in the ground. It surged up, along and down his arm – but this time he was ready, the cage firm in his mind and positioned at his elbow.

  It smashed into the wall, wailing pins in Cole’s ears. It thrashed, trying to undo his concrete concentration. It tried to swim back from his arm, but he caught It in a box and held on. He forgot everything, caging it, keeping the mental image of bars in his mind. Long seconds passed while It threw itself repeatedly against his barrier. Then It stopped the struggle, undulating within his arm, lending him Its senses.

  He fought down the fierce triumph brimming in him. Last time It had escaped when he got smug. The overwhelming rush of information streaming from Its senses amplified the wave that crashed over him. He could see the trail of burned-green; it blazed. The echo of screams filled the air, as though this were the scene of a mass grave of terrible deaths. The effect was like that of a ghost or revenant, but it was as though thousands of ghosts had been packed into one trail, one entity.

  And that entity was unmistakably vampire. Burned vitality he could only describe as smelling like the colour green, moved in a wreckage up Leith Walk. It was vampire, but it was also impossibly huge, and as potent as a leaking god.

  It slammed into the cage of his mind, sensing his distraction, and splintered right through. Cole
tried to wall It off; he had to break the connection. He reached for his flask, and It connected to the ground, swelling.

  It buckled Cole’s body so that he lay on the earth. His flask tumbled out of his jacket. He managed to get a thin line of mind-wall between It and the power beneath. All he could do was hold that thin barrier in his mind. It was loose, rattling and shaking his body. It wailed, Its call seeming to thicken the power in the air; the black flakes fell and began to stream. The flask was yards away; he couldn’t reach it.

  Suddenly, Millar was above him. Cole’s flask pressed against his lips, and whisky burned as he gulped it down. Millar’s face shone with nausea. It shrank with each long gulp and finally stilled, stupefied. Cole lay on the ground, Millar feeding him half the bottle. Some people approached, then quickly turned on their heels. The residual effects of siphoning rippled from him, and gratitude for Henry Millar welled. The kid had Cole’s head cradled on his lap. ‘You not going to buy me dinner first?’ Cole asked.

  ‘Not until you dress up nice.’

  A few minutes later, they sat on the bench while Cole waited for It to fully piss off. ‘I’ve got no idea what this is, Millar.’ The kid looked at him. ‘I thought it might be some sort of revenant, a ghost? That would account for the screams. Although, no revenant I’ve ever heard of can disappear people the way this thing does. And civilians shouldn’t be hearing the screams – the glamour should take care of that. It’s some sort of vampire. Not a beast vampire or a mind vampire. This is something else. A really powerful one. I’ve never sensed anything like it; this thing’s trail is spilling out all over the place.’ The route of the trail was burned into his mind. It went up the Walk like a forest on fire then disappeared around Lorne Street. Enough bad shit had happened to Cole on Lorne Street lately. It had nearly worn him there.

  Henry spoke. ‘I wasn’t sure whether I was meant to stick you with that dagger of yours or not.’