by Edward Cox
‘No one blames you for what happened to Macy and Denton,’ Van Bam said.
Samuel wasn’t sure he agreed, but Hamir was uninterested in either man’s opinion.
‘Of course, there is the possibility that Moor wanted to be captured – that he always knew a method of escape.’
‘For what reason?’ Van Bam asked.
‘Perhaps to catch the right person.’
‘Denton?’ Samuel said.
‘It would make sense,’ Hamir replied. ‘If I were Moor, believing that I could extract the secrets of the Nightshade from a magicker of the Relic Guild, then I would test my theories on the oldest and wisest among us.’
‘Surely that’s you,’ Samuel pointed out.
‘Hmm.’ Hamir paused in his work, considering. ‘Nevertheless, Denton would be a fitting second for Moor’s needs. And if the Genii knew he was going to be captured, it would explain why he relied on creatures of lower magic to continue his work.’ He applied the brush to the stone again. ‘But this is only supposition. Tell me, are you concerned that Gideon will be leading the hunt for Moor?’
Samuel shrugged. ‘At this stage, we need everything we’ve got.’
‘Quite,’ said Hamir. ‘However, if Gideon is preparing for a fight, Samuel, then his blood will be up. You don’t need me to remind you how dangerous he is, do you?’
Van Bam looked concerned, as well he might. But the illusionist had only ever heard stories about Gideon, whereas Samuel remembered him from the time before he became Resident, when he was an agent of the Relic Guild working the streets of Labrys Town. Gideon’s blood-magic had made him powerful and unpredictable, and Samuel had seen him use it to do terrible things.
‘Samuel.’ Hamir’s voice was laced with warning. ‘I would advise you to follow orders without complaint. Hold your tongue and give Gideon no reason to be angry.’
‘What about you, Hamir?’ said Van Bam. ‘Are you not coming with us?’
‘Someone has to remain at the Nightshade. To bolster its defences, you understand, in the event that none of you … return.’ Hamir placed the brush down and blew on the power stone. ‘Now then, let’s see what we can do about picking up the pieces of this catastrophe.’
As Hamir opened a drawer in the desk, the spirit compass gave a solid click in Samuel’s hand. Fishing it out of his pocket, he saw that the needle had fixed on a southerly direction. The compass had found Denton’s spirit.
‘Got him!’ Samuel said triumphantly, showing the compass to Van Bam.
‘Excellent timing,’ Hamir said.
The necromancer pulled a pistol in an old brown leather holster from the drawer. He laid it on the table and drew the pistol. Samuel had never seen one like it before. It had two short barrels and two triggers, blocky and heavy-looking, longer and fatter than Samuel’s revolver.
Hamir clicked the freshly painted power stone into its housing behind the double barrels. ‘I’ve taken the precaution of charming the stone so only a magicker can activate it. We cannot afford to waste the ammunition it will hold.’
When Hamir passed it over, Samuel thumbed the power stone and it whined into life, but instead of glowing violet the stone shone red. The weapon was as heavy as it looked.
Hamir produced two bullets from the pocket of his suit jacket. As fat as rifle slugs but not as long, the bullets were silver, polished to an almost mirror finish.
‘Thaumaturgic metal?’ Van Bam said.
Hamir nodded. ‘I reasoned that the order for Fabian Moor’s execution would come at some point so I prepared these bullets for the occasion. Unfortunately, there isn’t time to make more. You have two shots, Samuel – two chances to kill a Genii.’
Deactivating the power stone and cracking the pistol open, Samuel slid a thaumaturgic bullet into each barrel. ‘They’ll definitely work?’ he asked, snapping the barrels shut.
‘Yes, according to this.’ Hamir tapped Amilee’s book. ‘But then again, I was certain that Moor’s prison would work. As I said—’
‘Nothing is infallible.’
‘I would recommend a head shot, to be as certain as possible.’ Hamir passed Samuel the pistol’s holster. ‘Happy hunting, gentlemen. I hope to see you again.’
Marney had wrapped herself in magic, deadening every emotion inside her. Except anger. And hate. Those she kept alive like smouldering coals waiting for the wind that would fan the flames of an inferno.
She sat on the bed in her private chamber in the Nightshade, staring at the baldric in her hands and the twelve slim silver throwing daggers it held. She didn’t believe that the daggers would have much effect on a Genii, but they reassured her nonetheless; and not just because of the sense of security that came with being armed.
The baldric had been a gift from Denton, shortly before they went searching for the Library of Glass and Mirrors. It almost felt as though she was taking a slice of Denton’s confidence with her on the hunt for Fabian Moor.
Marney put the baldric on and fastened it. A comfortable fit, like wearing a waistcoat. She checked herself in the dress mirror, noticing the hollow look in her eyes. Marney knew that if she eased her magic in the slightest, she would succumb to grief and desperation. She would feel lost without the wisdom and guidance of her mentor.
A soft click filled the air. The outline of the door appeared on the maze-covered wall and swung open, and Gideon stepped into the chamber. Immediately, Marney had to block the wash of emotions he radiated. None of them was positive.
Gideon’s sunken eyes stared at the empath for a moment. ‘Lady Amilee has sent a message to the Nightshade.’ His voice was detached, somehow, distant. ‘The Skywatcher had some … encouraging news. The Timewatcher’s armies have begun a mass assault on the Genii. Amilee expects victory over Spiral within the next few days. It seems the war is almost over.’
Marney felt nothing about the news but recalled the words of the mysterious Aelf known as the Ghoul. The Last Storm, he had called it; a synchronised operation to invade every last enemy House and Genii stronghold simultaneously.
‘Of course, celebrations will have to wait until we tie up this loose end of ours.’ Gideon looked Marney up and down. ‘Are you ready to leave?’
Marney tried not to look at Gideon; at the savage, almost animalistic expression on his face. She noticed that the Resident’s scarred hands were covered in symbols and glyphs written in dried blood: a sure sign that he had been cutting himself. Preparing to join the hunt.
‘I replied to Amilee’s message, informing her of our situation, but she has not responded. Strange, don’t you think?’ Gideon stepped closer to Marney, and only her magical apathy kept her from backing away. ‘Tell me something – during your mission for Lady Amilee, did you and Denton discover anything that might be helpful to us now?’
‘I …’ Marney shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
Gideon’s expression was dangerous. ‘Oh, I understand that Amilee swore you both to secrecy, but I think we can agree that everyone’s plans have taken a sharp left turn.’ His voice became a predatory purr. ‘Tell me what you discovered.’
‘No, I mean …’ Marney faltered ‘I really don’t know.’
‘You believe you’re being loyal, is that it?’ Subtle anger, barely contained, heightened the threat of Gideon’s presence. ‘Have you considered that you might know something which will help us save Denton and kill a Genii?’
‘You don’t understand, Gideon. Denton … I think he blocked my memories. Or took them away. I just can’t remember what we discovered.’
‘Is that right,’ Gideon whispered, his brown eyes glazing with repressed magic.
Marney quickly added, ‘And perhaps Denton did it because he knew I’d tell you everything if I thought for one second that it might save his life.’
Gideon studied her face, evidently deciding that she was telling the truth. He closed th
e remaining distance between them. He towered over Marney, his emotional energy expanding, filling the room.
‘Denton trusts you with all his heart, you know. He believes that you are well on your way to becoming a mighty magicker – the best of us, he says. But me … ?’ Gideon pulled an unimpressed face, as though unable to discern what was so special about Marney. ‘I really don’t know how much I should trust you.’
Marney felt nothing. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Your conduct hasn’t always been in the Relic Guild’s best interests. I’m concerned that your affection for Van Bam will cloud your judgement on this mission.’
Marney clenched her teeth. ‘Listen to me, Gideon – I’m focused, I’m professional, and so is Van Bam. I’m dedicated to nothing but saving Denton and getting rid of that bastard Fabian Moor.’
‘If you want me to believe you, then you’ll swear to me you will end your relationship with Van Bam.’
And there it was, mistimed and spiteful, the Resident’s order.
Marney let her anger rise to the surface. ‘Now, Gideon?’ she snarled. ‘You want to deal with this now?’
‘You will obey me!’ Gideon shouted.
His fiery passion was as sudden as it was furious, creating an aura around him filled with madness. Marney matched him with the cold fearlessness only an empath could conjure in an instant.
‘No!’ she shouted back.
Gideon shook his head, as though to rid it of a bad thought. ‘Shut up!’ He hit himself in the temple, obviously battling against the voice of Sophia, his spirit guide. ‘Be silent!’ Spittle dribbled onto his chin.
Before Marney could question her actions, she reached out with her magic, trying to latch on to Gideon’s emotions and bend his mood to her will, or force him to listen to Sophia’s advice.
It was a mistake.
With a roar, Gideon grabbed Marney by the collar and crashed her into the wall, pinning her against it.
‘You think your magic can work on me?’ He was raging, practically frothing at the mouth. ‘You think you can control the chaos in my veins?’
His strength, his fury, his magic – Marney was insignificant compared to the Resident and her empathic defences crumbled before him.
‘Gideon, stop,’ she begged.
‘I am a blood-magicker!’ he barked into her face. ‘I am descended from mightier stock than you!’
‘Please …’ Marney tried to remove the fists squeezing her throat but the symbols and glyphs covering Gideon’s hands singed her skin. ‘Let me go.’
‘Tell me,’ Gideon hissed. ‘If you can’t obey a simple order, then what good are you to the Relic Guild?’
Marney could feel the insanity crackling through his emotions, the abandon, the power, the vicious desire to snap her neck like a twig. Uncontrollable.
‘I’ll do what you want.’ Marney pleaded, her magic crushed and stamped on, her own emotions torn open, as raw as a fresh bite wound. ‘Anything. Please, Gideon!’
‘Compliance after threats.’ Gideon bared his teeth. His breath reeked of blood and magic. ‘A Resident shouldn’t have to put the fear of the Timewatcher into his agents—’
Gideon fell away with a howl as someone punched him in the side of the face. He crashed to the floor. Released, Marney slid down the wall, gulping down breaths. Gideon sat up, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, displaying his anger with a deathly grin aimed at his attacker.
‘Hello, Samuel,’ the Resident purred.
Samuel had drawn his revolver. The power stone glowed. Marney felt his cold menace.
Gideon dabbed a finger to the blood at his mouth. ‘What do you think?’ he said, eerily calm. He pressed his thumb to the blood on his fingertip and drew out a viscous red line that sparked with violet fire. ‘Is your magic quicker than mine?’
Samuel didn’t reply, his face expressionless, the aim of his revolver steady.
Marney had regained her magical defences; her shock and fear were now drowned by apathy. With clarity, she judged the high emotions in the air. The danger posed by Gideon had activated Samuel’s prescient awareness; and in that moment, Marney gained an insight into what it was like to be him. She felt the atmosphere pressing in on Samuel like hot needles, dampening his reason and emotions, igniting his survival instincts. One wrong move, one wrong thought from either Gideon or Marney, and the voice of Samuel’s magic would roar.
‘What’s it to be, Samuel?’ Gideon said. ‘Can you pre-empt blood-magic?’
‘Stop it!’ Marney rose and stood between them. ‘I’ll follow your orders,’ she told Gideon, before facing Samuel.
But Samuel was looking through her.
Although the revolver was still aimed at Gideon, Marney’s chest now blocked a clear shot. She knew that if Gideon attempted an attack now, Samuel would shoot through her. Unless Gideon backed down – unlikely – Samuel would remain locked in his most dangerous state.
Again, Marney reached out with her empathy, using affection, careful to remove any trace of threat from her magic. She seeped through the alien shell of prescient awareness, sliding into the bitterness and sadness of the man beneath, latching on to Samuel’s sense of reason. And Marney injected the sound of her voice into her magic.
Think of Denton. Think of everyone who has died. His face twitched as she got through to him. Let’s finish this, Samuel. Let’s find Moor.
Lastly, Marney infused him with calm determination, the will to see the foolishness of the current situation, and finally she broke his state.
Samuel’s eyes appeared to see her for the first time. He lowered his revolver.
With a smirk, Gideon extinguished his magical fire. Marney released a relieved breath.
Samuel looked as though he was struggling to understand what had just happened. ‘I’ve got a fix on Denton’s location,’ he said, sounding disorientated. ‘Van Bam’s waiting for us.’
‘Good.’ Gideon remained sitting on the floor, and his smirk had grown. ‘Go and wait for me outside. Both of you.’
Samuel marched from the room. Marney and Gideon stared at each other for a moment. The fury had left the Resident but the madness still shone in his eyes. Marney hurried after Samuel, struggling to catch up with his quick, long strides down the corridor.
‘Samuel, wait,’ she called. He didn’t respond and kept walking. Marney grabbed his arm. ‘Samuel, please … don’t tell Van Bam about this—’
Samuel wrenched his arm free and rounded on the empath. ‘You and Van Bam are idiots,’ he snapped. ‘And don’t ever use your magic on me again.’
He stormed off, and Marney watched him go.
As the Resident’s personal tram wound through the streets of Labrys Town, heading deeper into the southern district, Van Bam studied the body language and micro-expressions of his colleagues. The situation was stressful enough without the extra tension riding high in the carriage. Bad feeling between Samuel and Gideon was nothing new, but there was something else going on, something that had also affected Marney.
She was sitting on the bench seat next to Samuel, opposite Van Bam. Her every emotion was deadened behind a magical shield of apathy, but Van Bam could still tell she was experiencing more than anxiety over Denton. His lover wouldn’t even meet his gaze. Seated next to Van Bam, Gideon’s blood was up and he was ready for a fight; beyond that, the illusionist couldn’t get much from him. Samuel, staring at the spirit compass in his hand, expressed obvious agitation, but nothing that might explain its roots.
With his green glass cane across his lap, Van Bam looked out of the window at the buildings of the southern district passing by. Clearly, in the short time between leaving Hamir’s laboratory and congregating outside the Nightshade, some kind of altercation had occurred between his fellow magickers. Perhaps now was not the time to discover the cause. The illusionist made a mental note to ques
tion Marney about it later – if any of them survived the night.
The tension continued in the silence.
The tram was driverless, powered by the magic of the Nightshade, which, in turn, was in sync with the magic of the spirit compass. It was at moments like these that Van Bam was reminded of just how big a place Labrys Town was – a two-and-a-half-thousand-square-mile home for a million denizens, divided into five districts. Without the small Aelfirian device to steer the tram’s direction, they might never find Denton. And as of that moment, finding Denton was the only chance they had of finding Fabian Moor.
The tram began to slow and Samuel stood up. ‘Time to leave,’ he said, still staring at the compass.
Marney didn’t react. Gideon, however, moved to the end wall of the carriage and laid a hand upon the eye device fixed to it. The milky fluid inside the glass hemisphere glowed in response and a buzz filled the air.
‘Yes, I’m here,’ Hamir’s distorted voice said from the Nightshade.
‘We’ve reached our destination,’ Gideon growled. ‘If you don’t hear from us by morning, you know what to do.’
‘Indeed. I will send a distress sig—’
Gideon removed his hand from the eye, cutting Hamir’s voice dead. The tram came to a full stop and the group disembarked.
The atmosphere was humid, Ruby Moon a smudge of red light behind thick, dark clouds. They had arrived in the warehouse area of the southern district, close to the boundary wall on a deserted street outside the gates of a metalworks yard. It would rain soon, and already the violet glow of streetlamps illuminated the fine drizzle in the air.
‘Well?’ Gideon demanded of Samuel.
‘The compass isn’t showing a firm direction,’ Samuel said. ‘Denton must be below ground.’
‘In the sewers,’ Gideon said and he opened the gates to the metalworks yard. ‘Follow me.’
By day, the yard was filled with workers who repaired trams and built new ones from the piles of metal recycled from decommissioned vehicles. But now the yard was closed for the night and as deserted as the street outside its gates. The lingering smell of hot grease and oil was borne on the drizzle. Holding his cane tightly, Van Bam brought up the rear as Samuel and Marney followed Gideon over the tramlines criss-crossing the cobbles towards a long, narrow supervisor’s hut.