A Mage's Fall: Dark Manhattan (Malachi English Book 2)

by Andy Hyland

  Arabella was first to react, pulling a short blade out of her belt. Four inches. Good steel. It would do. I lifted my hand and created a small witchflame, running the knife through it. As good a sterilization technique as anything else you’d ever find. “I need him on his side. Help me turn him.” Zack lifted him, and I got access to the back of the left arm, a little above the elbow. There it was – the bump I’d been expecting since I first saw the bodies. I cut inwards, gently at first, probing as I went. Too deep and I’d kill him for sure. It didn’t take long to find – the smooth, spherical growth. I moved the blade slowly, slicing around it, giving me enough room to – there it was, out. I sat back, holding it up for them to see.

  “What the…?” said Julie.

  “They use bugs to ride the children across the Fades,” I said. “Easiest way to keep control, minimize the losses. But before the bug can take hold they need to create a physical bond with the body. This is, well I suppose it’s an egg, of sorts. It bonds with the nervous system, introduces an element of the bug’s essence. Only temporarily – it flushes out once the bug leaves at the end of the journey. But they don’t all take.”

  “By ‘don’t all take’ you mean that the process kills some of the children.”

  “They see it as an acceptable loss. Part of the system they’re building has to deal with the rejected bodies. How’s he doing?”

  Zack had been at work while I spoke, healing the wound in the arm and trying to agitate the body back into self-repair. He shook his head, eyes still closed. “He’s on the edge. Right on the edge. I can keep him from tipping over, but I can’t bring him back.”

  “Mal, can’t you try something?” Julie asked.

  “Hardly,” Zack muttered.

  “What he means is,” I said, “that it’s not a matter of power. It’s a skill. A specialism. If Zack can’t bring him back, then I don’t stand a chance.”

  “Let’s get him to Mercy,” said Zack. “She might know something we don’t.”

  “We should let him go,” I said. “He’s been through enough. Why pull him back?”

  “Two reasons,” said Julie. “Firstly, he’s got a family. Somewhere. They’re looking for him. And secondly, if he wakes up and talks he might have exactly the information you need. Who knows what he’s heard?”

  “He might not come back Aware,” said Arabella, staring down at him. “Maybe he didn’t get far enough for that to happen. He could come back and just…live again.”

  “Okay, I’m outvoted,” I said. “Mercy it is.”

  “Move quickly,” Zack said as we lifted the boy up. “Or it’ll be too late for anyone to do anything.”

  Chapter twenty-four

  “What do you think?”. It was Arabella who spoke. The four of us were gathered over at one side of Mercy’s cavern, while she tended the boy on the makeshift cot, across from us.

  I shook my head. “It was all we could do to hold him together while we got him here. Unless she’s got something special up her sleeve I can’t see this going well.”

  “I could call that doctor,” said Zack. “She’s good. Can probably keep her mouth shut if we ask nicely.”

  “The redhead?” I thought about it for a second. “No point. A hospital can’t help him. This is fundamentally a magical problem. If there’s a solution it comes from our world, not hers.”

  Mercy stood up straight, put the boy’s hand across his chest, and started to walk over to us. “Don’t like that look on her face,” said Julie in my ear. I had to agree. Mercy’s natural state was studied neutrality. Now she looked angry and frustrated. As she approached, her eyes met mine. She shook her head.

  “There’s nothing that can be done,” she said flatly. “We should let him cross in peace. It’s a better fate than what awaited him if he’d lived and been taken. There are far worse things in this life than death.”

  “Nothing?” I asked.

  “Mercy, can I have a moment?” said Zack. He took her by the elbow and walked a few meters away, where he spoke urgently into her ear. Her eyes kept darting back to me. Her brow creased. She answered Zack, and he dropped his eyes to the ground.

  “What’s going on?” asked Julie.

  “Whatever it is, it’s not going to be good,” Arabella answered.

  Mercy called across to us. “Malachi. Walk with me.” I looked at the others, shrugged, then fell into step behind her as she moved across the large room. When we were safely out of hearing range, she spoke again, quickly and urgently. “I wouldn’t even bring this up, normally, but given your particular situation and the urgency it presents, I must.”

  “You mean the annoying fact that the next time I fall asleep I’ll be Molech’s pet all over again?”

  “Precisely. The boy is…far gone now. Nothing can bring him back. Nothing that we have control over.”

  “You’ve already said that. The situation’s hopeless.”

  “There is an alternative. It’s forbidden. It would lead to extreme sanctions. But I mention it because the consequences of not acting are equally extreme. Not just for you, but for the children already taken.”

  “If you can’t bring him back from death, then what do you suggest? Sounds pretty hopeless from where I’m standing.”

  “We take him through death and bring him out the other side.”

  It took me a moment to get my head round what she was suggesting. “You’re planning to turn him?”

  “It’s not ideal. There’s only ever been one in the line at any one time, save briefly at handovers. You can imagine the consequences if the numbers increased. Even only a handful could swiftly become a problem should they…”

  “Get out of control?”

  “Quite. But memories are retained. Enhanced, even. It’s hard to describe to someone who’s not experienced it. Imagine your past life as a film. One where you’re able to replay it, review it, stand objectively within the events.”

  “Anything said within his presence he’d be able to tell us about?”

  She nodded.

  “No. It’s too much. To have him come back Aware would be bad enough, but to force him back, without his permission, as something else entirely - we can’t do that. We have no moral right.”

  “Strange words to hear from you. Is inaction morally acceptable, given what’s at stake?”

  “Malachi.” Zack called across the room, waving his phone and striding towards us, the others following close behind. “You need to see this.”

  “When did you start getting a signal down here?” I asked.

  “Never. Texts came in while we were up by the dumpsters. My thoughts were elsewhere at the time. Only just checked.”

  “I take it the news is bad?”

  “Worse than bad. It’s an update from Larry Dialgo. Ray Jenkins – that beaten-up cop you went to see with Arabella in Queens? His kids went missing. Two girls, one seven, one five.”

  “Too young,” I muttered. “They never go that young. It’s revenge. Spite.”

  “And Mark Hatfield’s sister.”

  “Two kids,” I said, putting my hand over my eyes. “One boy, one girl. He didn’t tell us anything but Balam took them anyway.”

  “Exactly,” Zack put the phone away. “This is too public now. He can’t keep it under wraps. Why would he do this?”

  “Malachi told you,” said Mercy. “He is spiteful. And cruel. And so proud that he thinks he’s untouchable.”

  “Not the pride thing again,” I snapped. “Isn’t there something else you can give us, something useful?”

  “He is proud,” she said, ignoring my tone, “and that is a weakness. He has not killed you. Instead he tries to retake you. Any cold, calm assessment of the threat you pose would see an enemy going for the kill immediately. And he boasts of his network, his plans, secure in his own mind that you cannot do a thing to stop him. Pride has already weakened him. Pride will ultimately finish him.”

  “You have the gift of prophecy?” asked Julie. “Not sarcasm – ge
nuine question here.”

  Mercy smiled. “Unfortunately not. But although I’m not as obscenely old as Simeon was, I’ve still seen some things in my time.” She looked me in the eyes. “He is weak. Understand that. Believe it.”

  Zack cleared his throat. “Back to the matter in hand.”

  I weighed it up. There was too much to lose now. Too much pain that I’d directly caused, even if I’d acted with the best of intentions. “Do it,” I said to Mercy. “Do what you need to do.”

  “As you wish. It will take time. Not a long time, but time. Things must be done correctly to reduce the chance of complications. I will be in touch as soon as we have the information.”

  “Got any ideas to kill the time?” Arabella asked.

  I nodded. “One or two. Julie, stay here with Mercy. Get hold of me as soon as you have what we need. Zack, you’re with me. Arabella, you’re going shopping.”

  *

  Half an hour later I was crouched with Zack on a fire escape, overlooking the alley. We’d checked the third dumpster still held the bodies. From the look of things, nobody had been this way since we’d left, taking the boy.

  “Thought you said they’d know we’d been here?” said Zack.

  “Yep. Anyone with half a brain would notice, and Balam’s too smart not to have trained them well. They’ll report in and shut things down here, but we could get lucky. They still have to lose the bodies, and if they’re panicked and careless, they’ll take them exactly where they normally do, even if they are on high alert.”

  “That’s not where we need to be going, though. We’re after the storage area, not the graveyard.”

  “That’s Mercy’s job, for now. We’re going to show Balam that he doesn’t get everything his own way. And remember, he wants a quiet operation. He’s already shot himself in the foot by taking the Jenkins and Hatfield kids. We’re going to ramp that up a bit more.”

  “You’re not worried you’ll make him move faster?”

  “We need to move fast regardless of what he’s doing, remember? A bit of speed on his part might lead to more mistakes. It all adds up.”

  “But he’s got the cops on his side. Even if most of them don’t know it.”

  “The cops, yes. But I doubt he’s reached out further than that. Ah, we have movement.”

  From our position we were out of the line of sight, but had a clear view of the white van pulling up with its lights dimmed, back doors facing the alley. Two guys jumped out, nervous and shifty. Once they’d checked around to make sure they were alone, they made straight for the dumpster and opened it. They stood there, hunched over it, talking.

  “They’ve noticed,” said Zack quietly. I nodded.

  One of them got on the phone while the other one picked up a body, slung it over his shoulder, and took it to the van, throwing it carelessly in the back before returning for the next one. While he was doing that, I pulled out my mobile and spoke quietly to our ride. Then we stepped from the fire escape through a window into a disused office suite that we’d taken advantage of. Within a minute we were down on the street and jumping into Rick’s cab.

  “Yeah, I saw the van,” said Rick. “Figured it might be the one you were after. Don’t you worry, now. Cabs are as anonymous as you get round here. And I’m good, so they’ll never catch on. Which I hope you’re going to figure into my tip, if you don’t mind me saying.”

  The van slowly pulled out in front of us, and after leaving a gap of two cars, Rick did the same. He was as good as his word, gliding among the traffic like a bird of prey that’s seen a rodent in a field below. At one point he scared us by nipping off left, only to rejoin directly behind the van two blocks later, laughing at the looks on our faces. “Hey, you two need to calm down,” he chortled. “You keep up the stress like that, you’ll ending up stroking out on me, and you haven’t paid yet.”

  The van came to a rest inside the north part of Hell’s Kitchen. No surprise there. If this was Balam’s chosen area for final departure it would also be the one he’d have sewn up tightest, with the cops under orders to disregard any number of strange happenings and reports. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to have the bodies disposed of too close to his main base, though – we wouldn’t be that lucky.

  The van pulled up to a set of locked gates on West 58th Street. Building site – some sort of development work going on. That opened up a wide range of possibilities for whoever was doing the dirty work.

  Rick stopped half a block away, in a patch of darkness beneath a broken streetlamp. “This good for you, gents?”

  “Nice job,” I told him, and handed over a wedge of notes. “Go another two blocks and wait there. When we leave, we’ll be doing it in a hurry.”

  “Got you.”

  As the cab slid off, I put the call in to Arabella, who got there ten minutes later in her own cab, which we paid and dismissed. She had the necessary goods.

  “This is taking too long,” Zack muttered as we got it all ready.

  “Relax, it’s not like the kids are going anywhere, is it?” They both looked at me. “Oh come on, lighten up. Let’s get this done. You ready? Remember, they get knocked out only, not killed. But if they do get a bit banged up, then that’s not a bad thing. We all clear? Excellent. On three.”

  It started out quietly. I boosted Zack to the top of the fence, we got Arabella over, and then he pulled me up. Stage one clear, no shouts, no problems. Inside the yard I was pleased to see two porta-cabins, three trucks, and plenty of other equipment, as well as the white van. Deep trenches for the foundations ran the length of the ground. That must be where the bodies were heading. Where plenty of others no doubt already were. Once the cement was poured, they’d be left undiscovered for years, even decades.

  Our two guys were over near the first porta-cabin, chewing the fat with a tall, lean security guard. Nobody else in sight. This shouldn’t be a problem. I threw a hex at them as we ducked out of cover. A dark web of smoke descended over them, pouring into their throat and eyes, keeping them blind and quiet. Once we reached them I dismissed it. We started laying in with right crosses to their heads, and they went down. Not satisfied with that, I landed some heavy kicks to the side of one of the guys, only stopping when I felt the ribs crack. Looking up, I saw Arabella a few paces away. “You don’t want some? This is a perfectly good use of violence, given what they’ve done.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve had enough for now.”

  “Fair enough. Good choice. Stick to what you’re happy with. Open the gates and start getting the gear in while we do the necessary.”

  She nodded and headed off, while Zack and I dragged the bodies of the men over to one of the corners nearest the road, far from any machinery. Once that was done, we headed back to the van and, far more carefully, pulled out the children. They were placed near the men, respectfully, and covered with some blankets we found in the porta-cabins. No need to make it more difficult than it already was for the families.

  By this time Arabella was back and hard at work. Four cans of gasoline were just enough to set a trail around the site, from the van to the cabins to the trucks. Whatever fuel they were carrying would have to do the rest of the work. Zack placed a few small bags of incendo powder, liberated from my newly inherited stash at Becky’s old place. Does what it says on the tin, but from a distance and activated by magic. Excellent for creating distractions, or, as we were doing, destroying other people’s shit.

  “That should do it,” Zack said, standing up and stretching.

  “Good,” said Arabella. “My back’s killing me.”

  “Stop complaining. And good work.” We left the gates open, so as to help the first responders, and headed down the street. No CCTV as far as we could tell – Balam’s guys had clearly taken care of that problem for their own convenience. At the corner of the block we looked back. “Arabella, would you care to do the honors?”

  “I’d love to,” she said, lifting her hand and dramatically clicking her fingers.

&
nbsp; A second passed. Then another. And then the place erupted. The van exploded first, sending shards of metal raining down onto the sidewalk. Car alarms started squawking and a scream rang out from one of the buildings across the street. The porta-cabins went next – no major explosions but a healthy blaze nonetheless. It was when the trucks caught and their own fuel tanks combusted that the sparks really started to fly. The rest of the equipment was icing on the cake.

  We backed off a bit until we were only a few paces from Rick’s cab, and stayed as long as we could to watch things play out. The first two fire trucks were there inside of eight minutes.

  “Question,” said Arabella.

  “Go ahead, my young Padawan,” I replied.

  “We’re still committed to keeping the whole demon, other-world thing under wraps and hidden from general humanity, right?”

  “Absolutely. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “So, doesn’t this…?”

  “Oh, it raises many questions,” I agreed. “But the key thing is, we’ve made it Molech’s problem. For all his swagger, Balam’s kept on a tight leash by his master. And although he’s bought off the cops, I doubt he thought as far as the fire department. They’re going to raise some very interesting questions, and their reports are going to include everything about those kids they find. The bug eggs will have evaporated by then, or they’ll have to be covered up, but the three guys are alive and available for questioning.”

  “You think it’ll all go public, then?” Zack asked.

  “No chance. It’ll be as under wraps as it ever was. Balam’s not the only asset Molech’s got around town. He plays the long game and is very, very cautious. But for the time being, at least two of Balam’s eyes are going to be on this problem rather than on what we’re doing. Which, I think you’ll agree, helps.”

  “Certainly does,” said Zack.

  “And besides,” I added. “Wasn’t it fun?”

  My phone started buzzing in my coat pocket. I pulled it out. Julie. “Okay, then. Let’s see how this little mess turned out.”

  Chapter twenty-five