by Alan Baxter
Silhouette raised an eyebrow. ‘A monster? Like me?’
Alex kept his face neutral. ‘Yes. Like you. You expect me to accept that I’m becoming more than human. Have you accepted what you are?’
She laughed, surprising him. ‘Fuck, yes. Of course. I’m not an idiot. I don’t really like the term, but you’re right. Call it what you like, what you’re becoming is something more than you were. With the added power of the complete Darak do you think you could live with this?’
‘No. And if I had the whole stone and I did finally crack and let loose, the damage I could cause is unimaginable. Everyone else has said so, and they’re right.’
‘So you get the rest of this stone, you master it and you figure out a way to be free of Uthentia before his influence breaks you.’
Alex hung his head. The ghost of a plan flitted through his mind again and he pushed it aside. ‘If only it were that simple.’
‘One step at a time, Iron Balls. Get the stone first. Then we’ll see what happens.’ They’d reached the front of the line. Silhouette stepped back, pushed him forward to the desk. ‘Your turn,’ she said with a wink.
A wave of panic washed over him. Bitch! The customs officer sat taciturn in his little glass-walled booth. The man waited patiently for a moment before hitching an eyebrow. ‘You want to come in to Iceland or not?’ A sardonic smile.
‘Yes, sorry. Miles away.’ Alex stepped up to the little desk, drawing power from the Darak as he did so. He breathed deep into his stomach to flatten the butterflies looping around in there.
‘Passport, please.’
Alex let his magesign swell out, pushed his will over the man behind the glass. He constructed the perception of a passport in perfect order, the official’s satisfaction that he’d seen exactly what he needed to see and handed it back. Silhouette stepped up beside him, her approval apparent.
The customs official smiled. ‘The purpose of your visit, sir?’
‘Just a holiday,’ Alex said. His voice sounded tight, nervous to his ears. He kept pushing thoughts at the official. Stamping the passport, handing it back. He was clumsy, battering the poor man over the head with his awkward magic.
The man dragged a hand over his face. As another bubble of panic rose in Alex’s gut, the man said, ‘Thank you. Have a nice stay.’
Alex’s hands trembled like an alcoholic’s. He strode away from the booth, not waiting for Silhouette. She caught up a few moments later in the corridor. He turned on her as she reached him. ‘What the fuck are you thinking?’
‘Not the most delicate manipulation I’ve ever seen, but you did it.’
‘You could have got me fucking arrested or something!’
‘I was right there, I’d have helped you out if it went wrong. But you did it.’
‘Barely.’
She took his shoulder, pulling them to a stop. ‘You did it. You made a bit of a meal of it, but that was your first time. Do you know how long it takes people to learn things like that? You’re a natural, Alex.’
He frowned, still angry. ‘I feel like a clown.’
They began walking again. ‘For years and years you’ve been honing your skills,’ Silhouette said. ‘You had no idea of the scope of the things available to you, but for years you’ve been reading people. You’ve been reading them and enhancing yourself even if you didn’t know it. You’ve put in a lot more training than you realise. Now it’s just a case of directing that training in new directions. Coupled with the stone, your power could be awesome. If you let it.’
‘And coupled with this book, it could be devastating.’
‘So what? It could be what you need to destroy Uthentia.’
‘Destroy it?’ Alex was incredulous. ‘Don’t you remember Welby’s house? We took out an entire street trying to destroy it. Who knows how many innocent people I’ve already killed.’
He could feel the book, weighing heavy in his pocket. It flooded his mind with images of crushed people under the rubble of their homes. It pumped images of the Kin in the street in Rome, skulls crushed and bleeding. He saw Ataro, his head a bloody, pulpy mess mashed into the floor. He felt the exultation, Uthentia’s approval, the rising bloodlust. Silhouette slapped him hard across one cheek.
He growled, his face stinging, and a red veil slipped over his eyes. One hand shot out, grabbed Silhouette by the throat. She caught his other hand as he drew it back to strike, visions of punching her head clean off her shoulders flashed through his mind.
‘Alex, get it together!’ Her voice was strained, crushed by his grasp.
He heard her as if she shouted from a distant room, muffled and irrelevant. All he cared about was blood and murder. He would finish her off and move on to whoever he saw next, killing his way through the airport, out into the street, wiping out everyone he saw for as long as he could. Fuck it all, why bother fighting this?
Silhouette pulsed with energy, driving him backwards with one hand. She coughed and gagged as she pushed. His back hit something that gave way and they stumbled backwards into a clinical, tiled room. He smelt disinfectant and soap, his senses preternaturally sharp. As they went down inside the door, Silhouette shifted, her throat pressing out against his fingers. She snapped at him, feline teeth grazing his face as he twisted away from her.
She morphed again, crouching low. ‘Control it!’ she growled, wearing her own face again.
He rushed at her, grabbing. She dodged to one side. ‘Look inside yourself, Alex! Where’s the real you?’
Alex ground his teeth. His heart hammered, his breath was short and high in his chest, the desire to kill almost irresistible. Almost. He concentrated on nothing but the Darak and focused it against the only part of himself he could still feel, his desire not to give in. Like a fight, never refusing to admit you’re beaten, battling on. With a yell of fury he turned and slammed one fist through a ceramic sink, shattering it.
‘You can do this, Alex! Don’t leave me!’
Her voice cut through his rage, cut through the howled cajoling of Uthentia. He dragged breath deep into his body, refused to be controlled. His fingers were clenched into a fist that he couldn’t release and he smashed another sink even as he forced the anger aside. With nothing but will he made himself relax. His hands clutched at empty air, fingers grabbing for something unattainable.
Silhouette stepped up, took his face between her palms. ‘Let it go. You’ve got this.’
His rage began to flutter away at the edges and he collapsed to the floor. His pulse still pounded against his ribs and temples, his breath still came in ragged gasps, but he soaked himself with the magic of the Darak. He thought of nothing but calm stillness even as Uthentia raged. He looked up, his eyes red, haunted. ‘I can’t go on like this,’ he said, his voice desperate. ‘It’ll finish me.’
‘We’ll beat this, Alex. Don’t give up on me.’
He let her drag him to his feet and staggered after her out into the airport and through sliding glass doors into cold air.
Alex and Silhouette found a bar. They sat in a quiet corner, Alex sinking a shot of whisky that burned deliciously against the back of his throat. His trembling slowly eased. He could feel her tension.
‘I’m okay,’ he said. ‘Well, for now.’
‘Close one, eh?’
‘You could say that.’
‘You’re getting stronger.’
Her admission worried him. ‘How long till I’m too strong for you?’
‘You already are. By a long way. But you’re still you in there too.’
‘And one day I’ll lose it and you won’t be able to stop me?’
‘Yes. Eventually.’
‘We need to fix this,’ he said. ‘Or I need to stop.’
‘I know what you mean by that and you can change that train of thought right now. Don’t you dare give up on me!’
‘What the fuck am I supposed to do?’ he shouted. ‘I’ll kill myself before I kill you!’
Several faces in the bar turned to look
at his outburst. Silhouette chuckled. ‘Easy, Iron Balls. You’re scaring the locals.’
He couldn’t help smiling too. Whatever else occurred, there was an absurdity to their situation he couldn’t avoid. ‘It’s true, though,’ he said, his smile fading. ‘I won’t be responsible for your death.’
‘I’m a long way from dead.’
‘Maybe.’
‘So what now?’ she asked. ‘Where next?’
Alex closed his eyes, let his thoughts settle. He slipped his jacket off, laying it on the floor beside his chair in an attempt to distance the interference of the book. He drew on the Darak, used its power to sense itself. ‘I can feel the direction,’ he said, his voice low. ‘I don’t know where it is, but I can feel it.’
‘A long way?’
‘Yeah. A few hundred kilometres maybe. It’s very rough terrain. All grey rock and smoke and no signs of life. It’s like the set of a Star Trek episode.’
Silhouette pursed her lips. ‘Maybe we need to charter a helicopter. That would probably be the best way in.’
‘Probably. But we’re skint. We robbed the hotel in Rome to get here! Unless you can work your magic tricks and charm us a helicopter flight we’re screwed.’
‘No, we just need more money.’
Alex sighed. ‘Is this where I become a little bit more monstrous?’
‘Depends how you look at it.’ She looked around the bar, eyes hooded.
‘You thinking of robbing this place?’ Alex asked.
‘Well, it’s busy in here. Been open a while. They’re serving food and drinks, so they must have a pretty good turnover. You reckon the tills would have enough to cover our expenses?’
‘I have no idea! Strangely enough, I don’t know what it costs to charter a helicopter, or the average takings of a busy Icelandic pub.’
Silhouette stood. ‘Well, let’s start here and see how we go. Here’s the plan. You do your invisible thing, I’ll make a distraction and you empty the tills.’
‘What? Wait a minute …’ Alex glared as Silhouette walked purposefully from the table. She scanned the ceiling, then the walls. She turned back to him briefly, raised her palms in question. He returned the gesture. She scowled at him. With a sigh he drew his shields tight about himself again, enhancing the usual masking with everything else he’d practised, and slipped from view.
She moved incredibly fast, slipped around a corner. A sudden shrill ringing burst out into the bar, people turning with shocked faces. As sprinklers rained down, Silhouette ran across the room. ‘Fire!’ she shouted. ‘There’s a fire, everybody out!’
A barely controlled panic broke out, people grabbing bags and coats and heading for the nearest doors. The bar staff tried to call order, organise people, yelling out words Alex couldn’t understand. Silhouette flicked a wink back in his direction as she left with them. In seconds he sat in an empty bar, the fire alarm drilling into his ears, sprinklers soaking through his clothes.
He realised he probably had a very short time before the fire department arrived. Grabbing his jacket, pulling it on, he ran behind the bar, studied the tills. There were three, lined along under racks of spirits. One in the middle still had a key in it, above the keypad. The others had their keys removed, the staff having the forethought to protect their employer’s livelihood.
Alex frowned. He didn’t have time to work this out. He thought his fingers hard as steel bolts, pressed his fingertips into the small gap between the tray and the till and pushed. The metal buckled. He got a grip of the edge and pulled the tray, notes and coins bouncing in the drawer as it sprang open. He grabbed handfuls of cash and moved on to the next till. Twice more he repeated his violent theft and hurried from the bar, hunched against the indoor rain, notes stuffed into his invisible pockets. He had no idea how much it was but it felt like a lot.
As he ran past the people milling about outside, he had a wave of panic, imagining his fingerprints everywhere. Too late now to worry about that. Maybe the sprinklers would help.
He saw Silhouette across the road, walking slowly away from the pub. He chased after her. Checking that no one looked in their direction he slipped back into view, making her jump.
‘You’re wet,’ she said with a laugh.
‘No shit! Nice plan.’ He pulled a face to make sure she got his sarcasm.
‘Was a great plan if it worked. Did you get it?’
‘Yeah, we’re rich. Maybe.’
‘Good lad. Don’t feel bad, Alex. They’ll be insured.’
‘I guess so. It’s still wrong, though.’
She laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Right and wrong is a malleable thing. It’s not like you’re just stealing for the thrill of it. There’s a lot at stake here. Come on, let’s keep moving.’
Hood and Sparks sat on the Black Diamond jet, sipping champagne. A pretty young hostess with a tiny skirt and apprehensive eyes served them smoked salmon hors d’oeuvres. Classical music piped through the small plane. ‘Do you feel a bit more looked after?’ Hood asked.
The warmth in Sparks’s stomach wasn’t only from the booze. Hood had certainly done his bit to reassure her, but she knew she had given in too easily, ignored her deep sense of unease. But she didn’t care. This is how it worked in her world. Why she loved him. ‘You know how to treat a lady.’
‘You do mean everything to me, you know that?’
She wondered if he mocked her again. Always she had been unable to tell when he took her seriously and when he had fun at her expense. But in this instance his eyes seemed sincere. ‘Really?’ Her voice sounded nervous to her own ears.
‘Really.’
‘I’m never sure why you put up with me,’ she said. She knew how much her insecurity irritated him, but this seemed like an opportunity too good to pass up. He never spoke this intimately.
‘I wonder myself sometimes.’ He leaned over, stroked the frown from her brow. ‘But you know the answer I give myself?’
Did she really want to know? She twitched her shoulders slightly.
‘You give me everything I want.’
‘Do I?’
‘Well, you’re damned efficient as a PA. I might have the business mind, but you keep the whole thing running like clockwork.’
Sparks smiled, though with little humour. He was right; she knew how bloody good she was at her job. But she rather hoped she was more than that.
‘But that’s just the start of it,’ he said, sitting back. He crooked one finger at the hostess. She brought the tray back over and Hood snicked a crispbread piled with salmon and avocado, took it whole into his mouth with a snap of his teeth. ‘You also give me everything else my extensive appetites require,’ he said around the delicacy. He chewed slowly.
That was more like it. The business be damned, it was the other services she supplied that mattered. She’d learned very young that taking control meant giving a lot more than a person might otherwise consider reasonable. It soon became apparent to her that the more she gave, the better she maintained the safety and security she desired. And she enjoyed it too. Her own appetites were beyond those of most people, it seemed. She flicked her eyes up to the young hostess, back to Hood. The hostess licked her lips nervously.
Hood slid one hand up the back of the hostess’s leg. She stiffened, but didn’t move away. ‘Would you like a pay rise, sweetheart?’ he asked her.
‘What do I have to do?’
‘Nothing so bad,’ Sparks purred. ‘You just have to play with us. The three of us, another hour or so flying, nothing else to do …’ She raised an eyebrow, lazily undid the top few buttons of her blouse.
The hostess laughed nervously. ‘Well, I could certainly use the money. Seems like a pretty nice way to get some.’
Hood pulled the girl down onto his lap. ‘That’s the spirit!’
Sparks saw the reluctance in the girl’s eyes, her fear. She knew the internal struggle, the girl fearing for her job if she refused, regardless of the raise she’d been promised. Let me teach you a lit
tle something about survival, Sparks thought as she moved around to join them.
27
‘I feel them,’ Blonde said.
Sour-faced people swept water across the floor of a bar, brushing it out onto the pavement.
‘Strong, for a human,’ Red said.
‘Very recent,’ said Brunette, licking her lips. She looked into the bar. ‘Havoc they caused in there, I think.’
‘Yes,’ said Blonde. ‘We’re very close now.’
‘The Hood will never make it,’ Red said with a quiet laugh.
‘Will he be very disappointed?’ Brunette asked.
‘Certainly,’ Red answered. ‘Oh, it’s been a while since I’ve had this much fun.’
Blonde turned away from the bar. ‘The mortal realm is a truly engaging place.’
They moved away along the busy street. People’s eyes were drawn to them, eliciting occasional shivers as the Sisters passed.
Alex and Silhouette sat in a charter office while the man at the desk checked rosters. A wooden triangular sign in front of him said, Hi, I’m Frigeir. He sucked on his teeth as he flicked through printed pages. ‘Urgent, you say?’ he asked, his accent barely noticeable.
‘Yes,’ Alex said. ‘We really need to leave right away.’
‘What’s the hurry?’
Silhouette leaned forward, all cleavage and smiles. ‘We’re just anxious to catch up with some friends. We’re running late and don’t want to get into trouble.’
‘Late for what?’ Frigeir asked.
‘That’s classified, I’m afraid.’
Alex flicked her a sidelong glance. What was she playing at now? Classified? his raised eyebrow asked.