Mammon

by J. B. Thomas

  ‘I wouldn’t say it’s dislike. Rather, ignorance. Mercs respect firepower over mindpower. And some are superstitious, like Armin. You know – using the word witchcraft. Mercs don’t understand the nature of our gift. They have lots of names for us: ‘psychic’, ‘clairvoyant’, even ‘hippy’. It’s intended as an insult, but I don’t pay any attention. I’ve even been called a fortune teller before.’ She smiled, leaning her chin on her hand. ‘I wish there were more of us. We could team up and annihilate the demon population.’

  ‘Yeah!’ Grace grinned. ‘That’d be so cool.’

  ‘I’ve never had the chance to really get out there. I exist on the fringes, until Lucius needs me for something special. They rely on their weaponry too much, in my opinion. I’ve only been on five missions.’

  ‘Really?’ Grace’s eyes shone. ‘What kind?’

  ‘Low-key. Small stuff. Everyone’s so new and inexperienced. Thank God for Ivan. I think he’ll really try to exploit your gift.’ She looked up and smiled at Grace’s confused expression. ‘In a good way, don’t worry!’

  Sarah wrapped up the remains of her kebab and pushed it aside. ‘In about twenty minutes, Ivan’s going to throw you into a survival situation. He needs to see if you can use your skills to repel attacks by the mercs.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Sarah raised her eyebrows. ‘Ever been tasered?’

  ‘Of course not!’

  ‘That’s what you’ll be trying to avoid.’ Sarah watched her closely. ‘You’ll use masking to get past them. If you can, use the telepathic assault. Remember?’ She pointed to her forehead. ‘Give ’em pain! Oh, and a word to the wise: don’t try to give them any commands – don’t tell them to do something. You know.’ She pointed to the side of her head. ‘In here. It doesn’t work on them. They’re too well-trained against that.’

  ‘Okay.’ Grace flinched, sensing a prickling stare from the other side of the room. Sure enough, Armin and Maya were looking at her. She muttered something; he broke into high-pitched laughter. Even the girl sitting next to Ivan looked around, smirking.

  Grace ground her teeth.

  Sarah leaned closer. ‘Do you understand what I just said?’

  Seething, Grace watched Armin take a swig of his drink. He banged his fist on the table, laughing hard. She clenched her jaw and stared out the window. She was going to sort him out. Right now. She tuned out everything in front of her – the reflection of the scattered chairs and tables in the window, the bulky, swaying trees, the hint of ocean spray at the top of the cliffs.

  She planted the words in his head. I’m a little teapot. It’s a dance we always do.

  Definitely not a command.

  The noise alerted everyone first. It was the scraping of Maya’s chair. She stood up, eyes wide with confusion. ‘Baby! What are you doing?’

  Armin had climbed on top of the table and was now performing a dance. His left hand was made into a fist, planted firmly against his hip and his right arm was extended in a very silly angle. ‘Here is my handle, here is my spout!’ He leaned sideways, eyes blank, hand pouring tea into a giant, invisible cup. Coarse laughter echoed through the room.

  Maya clawed at his leg. ‘Get down!’

  Armin grinned. ‘It’s what we always do!’ Wildly, he shook his head, still pouring. ‘Come on! Get up here.’

  Grace caught Ivan staring across at her. He wasn’t smiling.

  Her face dropped. She knew he could tell it was her.

  He shook his head at her – a single, sharp movement – and then turned back to the table.

  Grace relaxed her thoughts, and as she did, Armin came out of his trance. Grace watched Ivan stand up and lean over the table. Shaking, Armin turned and looked at Grace. The mercenaries followed his stare. Armin’s face turned bright pink. Malcolm was reaching over, trying to calm Maya, who was reared up like a wildcat, straining to lunge across the room and attack.

  Grace grinned. She lifted her hand and gave them a little wave. ‘My witchcraft seems to work just fine.’

  ‘You bitch!’

  ‘Sit down, Maya,’ said Ivan.

  Heart pounding, Grace turned back to her table. She grabbed the bottle and squeezed it.

  Sarah pressed her hand to her heart. Eyes wide, she shook her head. ‘You’re asking for trouble.’

  ‘Grace.’

  She looked across to see Ivan striding towards her. The mercenaries were standing up and making their way towards the exit. Joe gave her a disapproving glare.

  Ivan stopped next to the table.

  Grace drew a deep breath and lifted her chin.

  Ivan looked at Sarah. ‘Go on ahead, Sanderson.’

  Nodding, Sarah walked away. She threw Grace an apologetic smile before disappearing through the door.

  Ivan leaned against the wall, arms folded.

  Grace kept her gaze locked on his eyes, fighting the urge to dip down and stare at the taut muscle in his arms.

  She smiled. ‘Something wrong?’

  ‘Why did you do that?’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘The teapot dance.’

  She shrugged. ‘How do you know it was me?’

  ‘Don’t be – how do they put it in English? Coy.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You did that to Jelavic. You got inside his head. I’ve never seen that kind of thing before. Although, I wouldn’t expect any of my team to behave so badly.’

  Her eyes narrowed. No way. Armin deserved it, and she wasn’t going to take this. No more. Grace was a different person now.

  ‘Are you criticising me? What did you expect me to do, just sit here and take his crap? He insulted me, and I wanted payback.’ She shrugged. ‘It wasn’t hard, anyway.’ She took a sip of water, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tremble in her fingers.

  Ivan raised his eyebrows. ‘Is that right?’

  ‘It was too easy, really.’

  ‘Good. Then you’ll find my little test no challenge at all.’

  * * *

  GRACE STARED OUT across the kill room. The place was like a converted barn. The ground consisted of large slabs of concrete. A watchtower dominated the middle of the space. Several small walls acted as partitions – like parts of a crazy maze had been ripped out and dumped in various locations. Right in front of her, a small brick structure with steps led up to a small lookout.

  ‘You’ll go up against these four mercenaries.’ Ivan nodded in the direction of the group, who were standing nearby. ‘Armin and Maya you know; the other two are Stephanie and Patrick.’

  Grace grimaced. Stephanie was the girl who’d cosied up to Ivan at lunchtime. ‘Great,’ she muttered.

  ‘They will be armed with tasers and other non-lethal devices. You are to use your skill to evade them. You must reach the opposite wall and hit the red button. There are obstacles you must negotiate on your way to the other side. It will be dimly lit – but that shouldn’t worry you, should it? Given the skill you showed us in the lunch room.’

  Grace blinked – was there a touch of disdain in his voice?

  ‘Do you have any questions?’

  She shook her head.

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘Are you sure?’

  Grace glanced around the room. Should she memorise it? Nah . . . she’d didn’t need to worry about that. The teapot dance was just the beginning.

  ‘I can see what’s involved here.’

  Ivan gestured for the door. She hadn’t even walked the room. ‘Fine. Go outside and wait for me to call you.’

  Grace blinked as the sunlight hit her eyes. Her eyes adjusted; gradually Sarah’s outline became less of a dark blur.

  ‘Did you take a good look? Know where to go?’

  ‘Yeah, good enough.’

  ‘Look
.’ Sarah pointed to a glass cabinet. Inside were black shotguns lined with yellow stripes and rows of matching cartridges. ‘See those parts? They’re for a taser shotgun. That’s what they’ll be using in there.’

  Grace stared at the guns. She rubbed her arms – a prickling sensation was running up and down her flesh. Her stomach churned. She’d seen taser attacks on TV. ‘Hopefully they won’t get to hit me.’

  ‘It’s time.’ Armin stood in the doorway, his voice cold.

  Sarah smiled. ‘Good luck. You can kick butt, easy.’

  Nodding, Grace entered a dark, unnerving silence.

  ‘Wait here.’ Armin walked off, quickly swallowed up by the darkness. Grace felt a tickle of adrenaline in her stomach. Then she giggled, picturing him dancing like a teapot. This was going to be easy.

  Ivan’s voice thundered over the speakers. ‘Whenever you are ready, Grace.’

  She stepped forward. She was glad she wore sneakers. Grace made her silent way forward and up the concrete steps. She crouched, aware that her top half must be visible to those far away – and peered down.

  Nothing . . . no, wait – there was someone. A dark outline: poorly hidden behind one of the partition walls. A slight sheen of grey light reflected off the tip of a gun.

  She lifted her hand, and without giving a command, planted an idea. Tired . . . need to sleep now. The mercenary leaned against the wall, head back. The gun slid from the hand and dangled by the strap.

  She hoped that was Stephanie . . . or Armin. Mmm . . . which one would she rather hurt? She smiled as she passed the sleeping mercenary. Oh. It was just Patrick. She darted down the steps and turned the corner with a jaunty step.

  Making her way forward, she could see the hulking outline of the watchtower. Ivan was up there. She flirted with the idea of giving him a cheeky wave. A few more steps . . . she could see the other wall now, and the platform where the red button was –

  Something exploded.

  A light filled the room, sharp and offensive. Her eyes stung – as though she’d walked into a bright day from a dark room. She could see nothing but the blinding white. She slammed her hands against her ears – a pointless attempt to stop the ringing inside. And the dizziness!

  Stop them . . . a voice was screaming, echoing inside her brain; the ringing was cruelly persisting, her vision was slowly returning. A cloud of smoke hit her throat; she coughed, fought a rising panic.

  Stop them – before they taser you!

  She closed her eyes, ground her back teeth together.

  Stay away!

  Get back!

  And the voices floated across to her like an owl’s hoot – calm, but laced with very human taunting. ‘No.’

  Her heartbeat began to accelerate. Sweat dripped down her back.

  Turn around!

  Go to sleep!

  ‘No.’ Low, predatory laughter spread around her, behind her, beside her. Circling her. She found herself throwing her hand out in front – a pathetic display of self-defence against an attack that she could not anticipate, or even see.

  But then, he came into view. The dark, dull outline of a mercenary, standing to the left. She couldn’t see anyone else. Ahead, the dim red glow of the button – she only needed to dodge one more barrier and she’d be at the platform.

  She stared at the mercenary. Back away.

  He grinned. ‘No. Don’t you pay attention?’

  And then she knew the voice, felt the malice. ‘I told you. Your witchcraft won’t work here.’

  She didn’t feel the bullet make contact with her body but watched the world tip sideways; her face slamming against the cold floor. The worst pain ever; each muscle shrinking, tightening. Her breath caught in her lungs. Impossible to breath, impossible to think.

  Armin tilted his head and fired again.

  This time the bullet hit her lower, near her belly button, doubling the pain. She felt her mind begin to swim away as the earth started to spin.

  The watchhouse door flew open. Ivan slid down the ladder, closely followed by Seth, Joe and Sarah.

  Mixed emotions in the blur of voices – anger, concern, fear.

  Then, a new lightness. She didn’t understand at first . . . but she was lifting off, floating above her body. Yanked away from the pain. Her senses disrupted. Sound was muffled, the voices now beneath her – for she was lifting into the air. Like the half-world between waking and sleep, when she would stumble to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

  Am I dead?

  Help me!

  She lifted a hand as the ceiling drew closer. This couldn’t be happening. She passed through the ceiling and out into the open air. Normally there’d be a feeling of cold as the breeze washed over her.

  Nothing.

  Just numb.

  Before, the sky had looked bleached, and bunched clouds had blocked out the sun. Now, it was lined in a brilliant yellow. The world was new, aglow – and she was floating through it, helpless. She shot a desperate look below her, but the trees blocked her view of the people she’d just left behind. She should touch something.

  Flinging her hand out . . . counting on that prickly feeling. But nothing. Her fingers passed through the branch like air. A butterfly hovered in front of her. Its jewel colours shining in this strange, surreal light. She could even see its tiny eyes peering at her.

  Oh, God – find some reality.

  Soon . . . too soon, she was hovering above the hillside overlooking Renfield and the road which had brought them to this place.

  Calm yourself, Grace.

  How could she get back? She tried to picture the arena, the gravel driveway, her bedroom. The roses in Sarah’s garden. Ivan’s eyes.

  Will I ever get back?

  She couldn’t feel her heartbeat. But she could picture where she wanted to be . . .

  Up . . . she floated over the treetops, back towards signs of life. Down . . . through the roof and the darkened air of the kill room. Past the burning glow of the ceiling lights . . . she heard Ivan bark something at Seth and then saw him scoop her up, cradling her head against his chest. He ripped the bullets away from her body. Her face looked pale, dazed.

  Joe knelt next to her. ‘Grace?’ He shook her arm.

  She watched Seth pick up a radio and shout something into it.

  She saw Maya and Stephanie come out of their hiding places and crouch nearby.

  Shivering, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to ground herself, bury herself as deep as she could into her body so that she would never have to feel that again.

  Armin grunted. ‘That’ll teach her.’

  Joe grabbed Armin and slammed him against a wall. Instantly, Ivan’s hand clamped on to Joe’s shoulder.

  ‘Joe,’ he said. ‘Stay calm.’

  Seething, Joe released Armin and turned back to Grace. He crouched next to her and touched her shoulder. ‘Can you hear me, sis?’

  Seth glared at Armin. ‘That was stupid of you. What the hell is your problem?’

  Maya stepped forward. ‘She deserved it. For what she did at lunchtime.’

  Stephanie nodded. ‘It was an immature display. She needed to be shown her place.’

  ‘Grace? Can you hear me?’

  Grace’s heart was thumping; her breath moving through her throat in sharp bursts.

  Her eyelids fluttered.

  Ivan gazed down at her abdomen where the second bullet had hit. ‘Do you feel okay?’

  Grace nodded.

  It was true. There was no residual pain. She struggled to get up, but Ivan slid his arm around her shoulders, supporting her. ‘Don’t rush it.’

  ‘I’m all right, really.’ She glanced up at Sarah. ‘How long was I . . . unconscious for?’

  ‘About ten seconds.’ />
  ‘Is that all?’

  Sarah leaned closer and whispered, ‘Why didn’t you use a telepathic assault? You could’ve laid him flat!’

  ‘I . . . lost focus.’

  Ivan looked at Armin. ‘Who told you to double tap?’

  Armin shrugged. ‘It was an accident.’

  ‘There are no accidents. Night duty for the rest of the week.’

  Maya scowled. ‘That’s not fair! We’ve finally got time off together!’ She slumped. ‘Great. Here we go again. Another Little Miss Victim, getting us into trouble.’

  ‘Come on, Maya,’ said Malcolm. ‘Leave it now. It’s not worth the effort.’ He touched her arm, but she jerked away from him. ‘Stay out of it!’

  Ivan nodded towards the door. ‘All of you. Dismissed.’

  The others moved away; Joe hesitated. ‘You okay, Grace?’

  ‘You too, Joe,’ said Ivan. ‘On your way.’

  Stephanie lingered. ‘Is that all you want from me, Ivan?’

  He nodded. ‘You can return to your squad now. Thank you for your help.’

  ‘Oh, I’m always here for you, Ivan.’ The girl gave Grace a jubilant smile and headed for the exit.

  Ivan turned around. ‘Stand up.’

  Grace caught her breath at his sharp tone. Her legs began to tremble, but she forced herself to her feet. Of all the people she didn’t want to anger . . . she folded her arms and stared at his chest. To raise her eyes to his? Too heavy . . . impossible.

  ‘You were out of line there, Grace.’

  She bit her lip.

  ‘Look at me.’

  She found herself caught again in his eyes, but this time he lashed her with an uncompromising glare. Holding her. A fish caught on a hook.

  ‘You didn’t take the exercise seriously. Assuming you would win, that your opponents were inferior. It was arrogant of you.’

  ‘That’s not fair! I was the one who got –’

  ‘I’m speaking, Grace.’

  She gasped and then shut her mouth. So this is what Sarah meant. He was all business. Her cheeks began to burn.

  ‘If we were on a mission and you went in with that approach, your teammates could be killed. Because of you.’

  Her cheeks burned a little more; his words were a slap in the face.