The Devil's Poetry

by Louise Cole

  The ground crunched underfoot even though the sun was running its fingers through the grass, leaving bright green trails in the frost. It was now or never.

  Breathe, I told myself. How could I be so utterly lacking in courage? “I’m not going to do the reading. I’m sorry,” I blurted.

  He didn’t look at me. “I think that’s best. We should never have asked you.”

  A small thistle of hurt blossomed, but I squashed it. It didn’t matter. I was too young. This was wrong. I was not my mother. Everyone would be safer if the Order left.

  “What changed your mind?” His tone was conversational, and I took my time answering. A succession of thoughts came to my lips, but what I finally said was, “Yesterday I told you something my father had said. Something I’ve never repeated to anyone.”

  Jace shook his head. “Callie, no one has the right to say stuff like that to you. It’s just not true.”

  I stopped walking. “I know, OK? Just listen. Please? The point is, I believed it. I . . . believe it.” I swallowed. This was a harder path than I’d expected. “I think I know now why my dad said that. He did want a woman like me. Just like me. He loved her with all his heart. And he lost her to this . . . this quest. This book. I think he’s scared that I’m so like her, he’ll lose me, too. I can’t do that to him.”

  “Do you think he knows your mother was a Reader?”

  I shrugged and continued down the trail, crunching twigs and acorns beneath my feet. “Does it matter? He knows he lost her.”

  Jace strode in silence for a moment. “Does that make you feel better?” he asked softly.

  “About me, perhaps. Not for him.” I stopped, my hand on cracked squares of elm bark. It felt brittle, but, if I moved carelessly, it would slash my palm. My dad had lived through slow torture, wondering if he’d failed her, wondering if he’d fail me, too. Watching me become like her.

  My thumb stroked the yellow-gray tree. “Jace, I need to go home.”

  ***

  The call had come in less than twenty minutes ago. The sniper had downloaded the details from an encrypted website, printed what he needed, and then released a little viral bomb on the data to destroy it. He checked the money was in his account. He didn’t know the client. That was fine. The less you knew, the less of a trail you left. He slipped his weapons case into the boot of the car and slid into the driver’s seat, leaning over to program the GPS. Lifley, North Yorkshire. The most likely location. It was less than sixty miles away, which made a nice change. Not often he got a local job. Multiple sanctioned targets, but the priorities were staring up at him from the seat of the car. Both women.

  ***

  I let myself in the back door. The kitchen smelled like it always did of the pungent sweetness of the basil on the windowsill and the faint tang of chili. I pushed through the memories that assaulted me unbidden, of my mother and father laughing as they cooked together, her splashing scarlet wine into tumblers as he fussed and sprinkled over the frying pan. My dad still cooked—extravagant, exotic meals—but I’d always imagined it was to rebel against the stigma of being a single father. Now I wondered if it was one of his ways of keeping her memory alive.

  I took a step, and something sharp cut into my sole. A shard of broken pottery. Only then did I realize the kitchen was completely trashed. The broken plates crunched beneath my feet as I walked, emitting little eddies of dust. I tried to speak, but my voice had gone. Jace moved me against the wall. He put his finger to his lips and slid from the room like a shadow. A tea stain darkened a cupboard door. My eye followed the drips up, up until they found my dad’s favorite teapot cracked open on the side, its spout missing.

  A body lay in the center of the floor. It seemed less important right then than the teapot. It was a Cadaveri, its face turned toward me, a dark dribble of blood at its mouth. One of my dad’s knives stood proud in its chest. He’d really liked that teapot.

  I whimpered softly. Please don’t let him be here. Please don’t let him be dead. I couldn’t feel my legs, and I slid to the floor, unresisting.

  Jace returned. “The front door has been jimmied, but most of the damage is in here. No sign of your father. There is another car out front, so he may not have been alone.” He took my hand and pulled me to my feet. “You need to keep calm. I don’t think they’ve hurt him.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “Listen to me.” Jace tipped my chin up so I was looking straight in his eyes. “There’s no sign of blood except for this guy and a smear on the fridge. There’d be more blood if it was a serious blow.”

  “They could have moved him—”

  “They’d have no reason to move him if he was dead. If they’d killed him here, there’d be a lot of blood. Trust me. I know what I’m talking about.”

  I surged forward, making it to the sink in time to vomit. Jace held me around the waist and stroked my hair back. How could he be so tender when he knew so much about blood and death? I felt like I had been body-swapped with someone who lived with shadows and walking weapons.

  “You OK?”

  I rinsed my mouth out with water from the tap. “Uh-huh.”

  “Then take a look at this.” It was a note. “Pinned to the front door. Crude but effective.”

  Reader. You and the book for your father. There was a series of numbers.

  “Coordinates.”

  It took me a moment to process what Jace was saying. “We know where he is? Then let’s go.” I bolted to the door.

  “Whoa.” Jace caught me again, pinning my back against his chest. “Not so fast. We need to take stock of this.”

  “Take stock of what? They have my father.”

  “Let’s talk to Ella, and let me put together a plan. We can’t do this alone.”

  “I’m doing it now. Alone if I have to. It seems pretty damn simple to me.” I struggled and kicked in his grasp, but he was too strong.

  “Callie, stop, now!” he shouted. “Do you really think your dad wants you anywhere near there? Well, do you? If he had to make the choice—him or his daughter—what would it be?”

  “That might be true.” I hung in his arms for a moment and then straightened up. “We’re still going to get him. I’m not letting anything happen to my father.”

  ***

  Aadil’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the ID and reluctantly answered it.

  “It’s done,” his boss said. “Someone local has been dispatched to solve our problem.”

  “Sir.” He disconnected the call. So a sniper would be picking off the Order’s operatives at any time. There was nothing to say except a prayer, and yet Aadil did not know what he should pray for: the reading to be stopped or an innocent girl to be saved?

  In the end he just whispered, “Inshallah.”

  ***

  “We simply can’t do it. There’s no time.” Ella folded her arms. “The peace talks started this morning. I’m sorry, Callie, but in times of war—”

  “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, or you’ll know all about being sorry.”

  “For God’s sake, Callie. You have no frickin’ idea, do you?” Her fingers worked her short hair into spikes. “Do you know what happened this morning? China sent troops into Mongolia and the Arctic. They are threatening Russia’s oil supplies. You know why? Because they think the peace talks will fail, and, when that happens, the Allied forces will be too busy protecting the Middle East oil reserves to waste any time protecting polar bears from rogue drilling. The whole of Asia will erupt into war.”

  She pulled out a chair as if she was going to sit and then threw it aside. It wobbled perilously for a moment before toppling.

  “You know how many Allied troops we have out there? Americans, Australians, Europeans, Brits? About four million across Asia and the Middle East. Over a thousand of them died today. Just today. And that’s before everyone gets serious. Now don’t tell me you are too stupid to know what’s more important: rescuing your father or stopping this war?”

&
nbsp; I jutted my chin forward. “It isn’t a choice, Ella. Help my father, and then I’ll help everyone else.”

  Miles and Richie studied their shoes. Only Jace had the nerve to intervene.

  “We’ll formulate a plan to get in and out fast. Take as many down as we can, grab her father, and leave. Callie doesn’t need to be anywhere near there.”

  “I’m coming with you,” I said.

  Jace ground his teeth. “No, you’re—”

  “Don’t you see this is a classic distraction? I can’t believe you’re falling for this,” said Ella. “Scenario one: they exchange Callie for her father and kill her. Dead Reader, sad daddy, screwed mission. Scenario two: they kill you both. Everyone sad, screwed mission. Scenario three: all my men get killed as well, and we’re simply screwed. Do you understand this?” Ella put her hands on her hips. “The only way their plan doesn’t work is if we ignore it.”

  I got to my feet and walked toward her. She backed away slightly, but I didn’t stop. I waited until I was so close to her face, I could feel her breath. I heard Jace move, but I didn’t break eye contact with Ella.

  “If I hear you suggest one more time that my father is acceptable collateral damage, you will be on the first plane to Romania looking for another Reader,” I said. “I think that would also qualify as ‘mission screwed,’ don’t you?”

  Ella looked away. She was sweating. I guess whatever she was picking up from me wasn’t posies and bunny rabbits.

  “You need to listen to me very closely, Ella,” I said, “because if I don’t hear what I want in the next five minutes, I’m walking out that door and taking my chances with the police. I wasn’t going to do your reading. I’d backed out. Isn’t that right, Jace?”

  He gazed at Ella, unblinking.

  “You can’t do that,” she replied. “For Chrissake—”

  “What’s at stake here is my father’s life. Now I’ll do you a deal. Help me get him back, unharmed, and I’ll do this reading for you. We drop him at home, safe and sound, and we can leave for London right away. It still works for me. The Cadaveri will follow me, and Lifley will be safe. My dad will be safe.” I glared at her. “Those are my terms. Help me, or get the hell out of my town.”

  Ella looked at the floor, her perky little mouth scrunched like an old plum. Then she grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the hall.

  “Understand this,” she hissed. “The rest of the world is more important than you or your family or any of your little dramas. If we make this deal, you don’t slither out of it once daddy’s safe.”

  I took a deep breath. “I won’t.”

  “No,” she said, blue eyes blazing. “The Order is more powerful than you can imagine, and if you break your word, I promise you won’t have anyone left to save. I will personally ensure that we eliminate your friends, your family, everyone you care about. Now do you understand me?”

  Dry-mouthed, I dipped my head once, in acknowledgment. Ella strode back into the room, leaving me shaken, and trailing in her wake.

  It doesn’t matter, I told myself. I said I’d do it. So I’ll do it. A small voice scrambled at the back of my mind as though looking for somewhere to hide, For all we know the Order killed your mother . . . it echoed.

  “The Cadaveri are likely to be fortified and numerous,” said Miles, as though we’d never left.

  The fear curdled to anger in my belly. “So kill them for me. What else are you here for?”

  ***

  Fifteen minutes later, we had a battle plan. Richie found an aerial view of the site on Google Maps, and Jace and Miles were allocating positions with cover in the surrounding area.

  “It’s isolated, so we don’t need to worry none about noise or firepower,” said Richie. “We’ll still need a diversion if we are going to get close enough for a snatch ‘n’ drag.”

  “That’ll be me,” I said.

  “I think your girl’s lost her mind, J,” remarked Miles.

  “Trust me, you won’t get a better diversion than me walking down that hill.” I pointed to the map. “I guarantee the minute they feel me coming, all eyes will be front.”

  “She’s got a point,” Miles said.

  “It’s too dangerous. What if they attack you?” said Jace. “We’ll all be 150 meters away. You’d be dead before I could get there.”

  I felt a strange swirl of emotion, the chill of terror mixing uneasily with the warming knowledge that Jace would be the one determined to get to me.

  “Can’t you use a gun?” I asked.

  Richie snorted. “Yeah, it’s harder than you think to shoot a moving target without hitting anyone else in the vicinity. I mean we’re good ‘n’ all, but you’d be at great risk.”

  “He means you’ll get yourself killed,” said Ella.

  I swallowed. “They won’t get that close. If I have to, I’ll use the book.”

  There was a moment of silence. Then Richie said, “Did she really say she’d hit them with her book?”

  I curbed my impulse to deck him. “The words hurt them. It drove them back in the barn. At least for a moment. With any luck, it will disorient them.”

  Jace slipped the little volume out of his pocket, still wrapped in its dusty plastic shroud, and slid it across the table to me. My hand clenched into a fist. I so didn’t want to pick it up, and yet I could hear it singing to me, high and sweet. I reached out and pulled it close.

  Everyone stared at the image on the computer screen of the little patch of grass and trees, and the derelict farmhouse at its center.

  “OK, then. Ella, wait in a public place until I call. We don’t want to risk a repeat attempt by leaving you alone,” said Jace eventually. “Let’s go make some noise.”

  ***

  Henry shifted his position again. He was too old to sleep on such hard ground. The concrete floor cut into his hip bones. No matter. He steeled himself to stop praying for a moment, summoning all his will. Focus, focus. He shuffled over to the professor, tipping his body weight, almost lurching into the man’s lap.

  “Listen to me,” he murmured. “If you get out of this, get your daughter out of the country. As far away as you can. Do you understand?”

  The professor still rocked over his clenched hands, saying a name over and over.

  “Do you understand me?” whispered the Cardinal. “Otherwise, she’s dead.”

  The professor stopped rocking.

  “Get away from him.” Scarman kicked Henry in the belly. The professor flinched but didn’t move.

  “You poor souls,” Henry said. “Let the love of God help you. I beg of you, let me try to bring you some peace.”

  Scarman picked up the old man by his shirt and slammed him into a wall. Henry fought blackness but kept his lips moving. “Thy will be done. Thy will be done.”

  “Where was your God when we were created, old man? Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?”

  “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Henry replied, translating the Aramaic. “He has not forsaken you. I am here, on His behalf. Let me help you.”

  “There is no help for us.” Scarman threw him down and beckoned Cyrus. “When the girl comes, make sure they are outside. I want her to see her father die.”

  “Why not kill them now?”

  “Because the Seer was right: there is more than one way to stop this Reader. If we fail to kill her, the sight of her father’s death will destroy her. She will be ruined for them.”

  Henry slumped against the cold bricks. He closed his eyes and thought about what he must do.

  ***

  The sniper pulled up outside the cottage. These were the coordinates his contact had provided from a car trace. There was no car here now, and on rural roads he was unlikely to find it. Not enough cameras. Time to use his initiative. He entered the small house carefully, sliding from doorway to wall. All clear. There was a laptop on the table, still plugged in. A browser window popped open. He checked the history. Well, that was nice. They’d left him a map.

  ***<
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  We drove across the dale in the old pickup truck I’d first driven in with Jace, the only vehicle available to us which could hold us all. Jace stopped at the top of the ridge behind some trees.

  “Callie, you stay hunkered down here for ten minutes. You don’t move until then, OK?” He squeezed my hand. I squeezed back and hopped out into the trees, hoping I looked less scared than I felt. My earlier adrenaline had ebbed a little, and now I was worried about messing up. About getting someone killed. Getting Dad killed.

  I watched them drive away, swinging wide around the back of the copse. I knew the plan. Each of the men would approach the compound from a different side. The farmhouse and its assorted broken outbuildings lay at the bottom of my hill in a small valley. Jace would swing the truck around the back of the derelict buildings, drop Miles and Ritchie off in their respective places, and come in from my left. As soon as I had everyone’s attention, the fun would start.

  I needed to pee. It would have to wait. But what if I got so scared I wet myself? God, how awful would that be? Get it together, I told myself. This is your brain distracting you with trivia. Your father is down there. I peered through the trees and could see the farmhouse. It was maybe a two minute walk away. Three if I went slowly. Perhaps it had been a crazy idea. I could see a couple of Cadaveri wandering outside, but most were out of sight.

  What would it do to you to be locked in there for hours with those creatures? Would my father even be sane? I checked my watch. Thirty seconds. Was I too soon? What will happen if I go too soon?

  My thoughts replied, They’ll kill you all.

  ***

  The sniper climbed a fence, dropped lightly to the ground, and scrambled down through the trees. The girl had emerged on the eastern horizon. He slung his rifle from his shoulder and slotted the sight in place.

  ***

  I stepped out of the trees and walked cautiously to the top of the slope. It was steeper than I had thought. I turned my feet side on and placed one foot carefully in front of the other.