by J. B. Thomas
There would be no more dancing. Her future had been stolen; she faced a life without the husband Armin would have been or the children they would have shared. In her watery vision she could make out the candle-like glow of the bonfire – its fiery peaks glowing over the treetops. ‘To hell with this,’ she whispered. She slid off the bar stool and stumbled out of the rec room.
* * *
GRACE SLID HER fingers to the nape of Ivan’s neck, the rough edge of his hairline. The silken fabric of her top clung to her skin, warmed by his hands. She looked up; he returned the stare, running his gaze over the flush in her cheeks, her eyes twinkling in the golden light.
He cupped her face in his hands. This was it. He was finally going to kiss her.
But she gasped. Something was wrong. She saw a vivid picture of Joe’s face, his eyes blazing with anger.
Ivan pulled back. ‘What’s the matter?’
Grace threw erratic glances around the crowd. ‘Where’s Joe?’
‘What is it?’ Ivan took her shoulders. ‘Look at me, Grace.’
‘Something’s going to happen!’
‘What?’
‘I don’t know what! Just something to do with Joe!’
Ivan took her hand and led her through the crowd. ‘Come on. We’ll find him.’
* * *
MALCOLM WAS HOVERING at the edge of the crowd, watching with a tight jaw and sullen eyes when Maya stalked past. ‘Hey!’ He grabbed her arm.
Grimacing, she jerked away from him. ‘Leave me alone, Malcolm.’
‘You nearly fell over then.’
‘I said, leave me alone!’
The song ended, in the sudden quiet all ears turned to the drunken girl. Maya stood, her back stiff, her eyes fiery. ‘Why do you bother me so much, Malcolm?’
He sighed. ‘Why do you think?’
Her head wobbled back and forth – finally her eyes glinted with understanding. ‘You?’ She made a humphing sound. ‘You can’t love me!’ She raised her finger and jabbed it into his chest. ‘You’re nothing compared to Armin!’
‘Maya, Armin’s gone.’
She gasped. ‘Don’t you say that!’ She ripped her hands free and smacked his face. Malcolm staggered back, his eyes wide, shocked at the sudden sting on his cheek.
Maya gave him a cruel grin. ‘Get lost, loser.’
‘You hurtful bitch!’ Malcolm grabbed the girl by the collar and dragged her back to him. He whirled her around and landed a sharp slap across her cheek. She fell to her knees, whimpering.
‘Oh, God! Maya, I’m so sorry!’ Malcolm reached down to help her up. Another hand clamped down on his forearm. He looked up; Joe glared at him, a red, violent glow in his eyes. ‘Leave her alone, Penbury.’
‘Shut the hell up, Joe.’ Malcolm straightened his back and scowled at Joe. ‘You’ve got some cheek stepping in here. You weren’t there to help Armin. It’s your fault he’s dead.’
‘Bullshit.’
Sarah dropped to her knees and put her arm around the sobbing Maya. She shook her head. ‘That’s not fair, Malcolm.’
‘No-one asked you, Sarah.’ Malcolm curled his fingers into fists.
Joe shook his head. ‘Don’t even try it, arsehole.’
Grace appeared at Joe’s side. She touched his arm – his eyes were blisteringly red. He didn’t acknowledge her but just stared at Malcolm; a murderous gaze.
‘What’s going on here?’ Ivan said. He took a look at Maya and then nodded to a group of recruits. ‘Johnson, Anderson – take Maya to her room.’
Grace peered into Joe’s eyes. ‘You okay?’
With a regretful frown, Malcolm watched the recruits lead Maya towards the Residence. He turned and pressed his finger into Joe’s chest. ‘It’s about time you and I had it out.’
Ivan stepped between them. ‘Penbury, go to your room, now.’
Malcolm smirked. ‘You can’t make me leave. Anyway, Ivan, why don’t you tell Grace the truth?’ He smiled at Grace’s confused expression. ‘Aw, it’s tragic. Ivan’s job is to keep you happy, so you don’t cause any problems with their precious Ferryman. After all, Joe’s the one they want. He’s the one with the special power. They don’t give a hoot about you, and neither does Ivan.’
Grace looked at Ivan. ‘Is that true?’ Her voice trembled.
‘Of course not.’ Ivan gave Malcolm a warning glare. ‘He’s just had too much to drink.’
‘Not a drop, actually.’
Grace bit her nail as the nagging doubt developed, bringing a sick feeling to her stomach.
‘You’re just pissed off with the world, Penbury,’ said Joe. ‘What’s the matter? Can’t win Daddy’s approval?’
Malcolm lunged forward and punched Joe in the face. Joe staggered back but recovered.
Ivan stepped between them. ‘Enough!’
Joe dodged around Ivan. He seized Malcolm by the sleeves and smashed him with a headbutt.
Malcolm fell on his backside, his hands pressed against his forehead. His vision was dizzy, but he could still see Callahan’s eye and the sliver of blood oozing from the rapidly forming bruise. ‘Whatever problems I’ve got with my dad, at least I can be proud of him. Unlike you.’
Joe blinked. ‘What the hell did you say?’
Malcolm looked up with a fierce grin. ‘I know all about your father. Everyone knows. Daniel Callahan was a coward who ran away from his responsibilities.’
Instantly, a swirling rift materialised. This wasn’t like the cloudy sphere Joe usually opened. This was an angry rift, borne of his fury and his sheer will to punish. Screeching and roaring, with angry clouds and erratic streaks of lightning flashing out from the core.
Ivan shot his arm out to protect Grace.
She lunged forward, struggling against his grip. ‘What are you doing, Joe?’
In unison, the crowd surged back; all eyes locked on the rift and its magnetic pull, against which Malcolm was struggling. He was too close. Petrified, he watched as his pendant disappeared inside the cloud. He could feel his hair standing on end, his clothes beginning to tear away from his body.
Joe grabbed a tuft of Malcolm’s hair and dragged him forward.
‘Don’t!’ Grace screamed.
Malcolm went head-first into the rift. He struggled, digging his heels into the cold earth. His howls sent a chill up Grace’s spine. The crowd watched in silent horror as his arms and legs twitched, as though an electric current was surging through him.
Inside the rift, Malcolm thought he saw something coming at him. He blinked – in the height of his panic, Malcolm’s inner voice spoke: it’s just a trick of the eyes.
But the lightning exploded again, and he saw dark shapes flying towards him.
They were Shadows. Racing for the rift opening. Racing to get out.
The first of them drew close and pressed an icy finger to Malcolm’s forehead. The finger slid up and over the crown of his head, leaving a cold trail across his flesh. The finger began to burrow at the back of his skull. Frozen, Malcolm felt a dark energy start to push into him the way a sperm forces itself into an egg – taking his body, possessing him.
He screamed.
Ivan ran forward and grabbed Joe’s arms. He yanked him backwards with an almighty wrench, also pulling Malcolm away in the process.
The rift dissolved into wispy ribbons of grey. After the monstrous noise, the air was ghostly quiet – except for Joe’s deep breathing.
And Malcolm’s twisted moans. He pulled his legs close to his chest. Tears gushed down his face as he began to rock backward and forward. ‘A Shadow . . . grabbing at me . . . trying to take me over.’ His eyes began a wild dance, to and fro. ‘It was going to possess me.’
RED-FACED, JOE STARED at Malcolm, who was cowering on the grass. ‘Don’t yo
u ever talk about my father again.’ With a brief look at Grace, he turned and headed towards the Residence.
Grace shivered, watching a group of mercenaries help Malcolm to his feet. What had he seen in there?
A few minutes later Diana arrived. ‘Take Malcolm to sick bay.’ She glanced around the crowd. ‘What happened, exactly?’
A volley of voices responded. ‘He was wasted. Stupid moron. Can’t hold his drink.’
‘No, he wasn’t drunk. Well, maybe love-drunk.’ Laughter rippled through the air.
Ivan took Grace’s hand and slid his fingers under her chin, lifting it until she was looking at him. ‘Nothing Malcolm said is true.’ He kissed her cheek.
‘Okay.’ She gave him a weak smile.
He squeezed her hands and then turned to follow the medics, who carried the delirious Malcolm towards the sick bay.
* * *
JOE SCREECHED OUT on to the highway, his heart still pounding. He should have relished this, his first drive of the Mustang. The soft give of the leather seats, the responsiveness of the engine should have filled him with earthly joy.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out Mammon’s phone. Behind him, Renfield’s alarms must have been screaming. He chuckled, remembering Brutus’s face at the guardhouse.
‘Open the gate.’
The guard had given him an incredulous smirk. ‘Oh, no, you don’t. You need permission to leave.’
Joe had opened a small rift in the palm of his hand. ‘I can make this grow to the size of a mountain in under a second. I’ll throw you and all the other guards inside. Open the gate.’
Mammon answered the phone. ‘On your way, Joe?’
‘Where can I meet you? No, not your apartment – I’m in their car, and they’ll track it. I don’t want them coming after me.’
‘Head to Southport. We’ll meet you at Pier Twelve.’
‘Okay.’ Joe put down the phone and sped up.
* * *
GRACE WALKED ACROSS the driveway and towards the external doors of the Residence, where warm light flooded across the gravel.
Sarah touched her arm. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Not really. Things just seem to be getting worse.’ Grace sighed. ‘I can’t believe what Malcolm said.’
‘I wouldn’t listen to him. He’s a jerk.’
‘It’s awful, what happened.’
‘It wasn’t Joe’s fault,’ said Sarah. ‘Malcolm shouldn’t have provoked him like that.’
Excited voices murmured behind them. ‘What a nut job! He should be put away for that.’
‘I wouldn’t trust him on a mission. What a friggin’ temper!’
‘Shut up!’ Grace turned around and gave them an angry stare.
‘Come on, Grace.’ Sarah led her into the courtyard. The fountain released microsprays of water into the air, wetting the leaves of the olive trees that bordered the square. Grace slid on to a bench; Sarah took the seat opposite her.
‘I don’t know what’s come over Joe,’ said Grace. ‘He’s not himself.’
‘He seems – arrogant.’
‘He’s always been a bit like that. But yeah, now more than usual. He thinks he’s invincible.’ Grace chewed on her nail. ‘But he’s still my brother. I don’t want anything to happen to him.’
Sarah leaned her elbows on her knees, staring at the pavers. ‘I know how you feel, you know.’
‘Huh?’
‘When people say bad things about someone you love.’ Sarah looked up. ‘I never told you that I have a sister.’
‘I didn’t know that.’
‘She’s telepathic too,’ said Sarah. ‘But she went wrong. Lucius and Diana say that she lost control of her power. Two mercenaries were killed . . . but it was an accident.’
Grace clicked her fingers. ‘I get it! She was the one Maya was talking about.’
Sarah nodded. ‘They love to badmouth her. But they wouldn’t have dared when she was at her strongest. She was really gifted, like you.’ She reached up and pulled a leaf from an overhanging olive branch.
She began to tear the leaf into rough strips. ‘I saw how badly she struggled to control her mind. I wanted to keep her here, to help her. But he put her away. His own stepdaughter!’
‘Marcus? Where did he put her?’
‘Where do you think?’ Sarah nodded in the direction of the asylum.
Grace gasped. ‘But they keep demons there!’
‘Yes, they do.’
Grace shivered. A human in that place! She pictured Joe in there, struggling against chains, mad-eyed. A bolt of adrenaline raced up her spine. ‘Sarah! How can you be here like this, while your sister is stuck in there?’
Sarah flinched. ‘Don’t you judge me, Grace!’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I tried so hard to do something. They wouldn’t let me see her. I hung around that godforsaken place for hours. The guards came out and tried to bully me, but I held on. Eventually, Marcus threatened to throw me out of here if I didn’t back off.’
Grace narrowed her eyes. ‘When you told me you attacked someone here, you meant him.’
‘I hit him with a telepathic assault,’ Sarah said. ‘He was beating her up. It drove me crazy.’ She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small pill box. ‘That’s why I take these meds.’
‘We could try to see her again. Lucius might let us –’
Sarah shook her head. ‘No, Grace. It’s too late. She’s gone.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I had to come off the meds a few days ago to help you with that mission.’
‘And?’
Sarah shoved the box back into her pocket. ‘The pills are inhibitors. They cut off my telepathy, stopping me from sensing things. When I first met you and told you that I couldn’t read minds – well, that was a lie. I can. And the reason why I was upset on the mission was because I could sense Anna again. I could read her thoughts. And it was that day I realised she’s not the Anna I know. Not anymore.’
She gave Grace a hard stare. ‘When I said she was gone, I meant that she has degenerated.’
Grace’s heart pounded. ‘Oh, no. Not . . .’
‘I’ve lost her, Grace. She’s become one of them.’
JOE STEPPED OUT of the car and stared up at the dark blue boat – no, ship that floated off the pier, its great spotlight beaming over the harbour. ‘No way.’ He shook his head. ‘That can’t be it.’
Then he saw Haures’s golden hair, whipping in the wind. ‘Over here, Joe!’ She waved to him from the gangway. He jogged across; she gasped as he drew near. ‘Your eye!’
He jumped up on to the gangway, stopping just before her. Swooping down, he planted a long kiss on her mouth. ‘It’s nothing.’
She reached up and ran her finger over the bruise. ‘Did you get into a fight?’
‘It’s over now.’ He pulled her to him and they walked up the gangway. The crew were a flurry of white, casting away the ropes as the engine thundered to life, sending rippling vibrations along the walkway.
Haures led him towards the glass elevator in the main cabin. After a few smooth seconds the doors opened on to a vast, luxurious sitting room. The wood-panelled ceiling was dotted with down lights, bringing out the subtle detail in the cream leather sofas and laying a soft glint on a giant, glass coffee table. On the far side, a mirrored wall set off rows of top-shelf liquor with sparkling detail; red leather bar stools were tucked under the bar’s solid frame. The night lights of Border City twinkled through the giant windows that lined the room. Beyond, the dark seas lay in wait.
Joe shook his head. ‘Unbelievable.’
‘There’s also a cinema, spa, gym and billiard room.’
‘This is bigger than my old house!’
&nbs
p; She ran circles around his shirt with her fingertip. ‘The only room you really need to see is the bedroom.’ She lifted her gaze; the look was soft but suggestive.
Joe’s heart quickened.
‘Ah, Joe!’ Mammon slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Fabulous to see you. Let’s celebrate.’ He sank onto the sofa and threw Halphas a glance. ‘Drinks.’
Joe sat down, pulling Haures next to him. ‘I’ll have a Corona.’
‘Diet Coke.’ Haures stroked Joe’s leg. Her eyes flickered up to his. Joe leaned over and pushed her hair aside, baring her neck. ‘You were saying about the bedroom?’ He pressed his mouth against her skin, tasting her, his imagination wandering . . .
Mammon watched with a smile.
The old servant appeared with a tray. ‘Here you are, sir.’ He smiled, handed Joe the beer, then hobbled across and lay a glass of whisky in front of his master.
‘So.’ Mammon’s fingers tapped the leather. ‘I gather that you are ready to join us?’
‘Yeah. But I want my sister brought here.’
‘Of course. Naturally.’ Mammon took a sip of whisky. ‘We will see to that tomorrow morning. We can even dock near Renfield, to make it faster.’
He swallowed the rest of the whisky; the old man refilled his glass.
Joe watched Mammon take his drink. Nervously, he ran his fingers over the edge of the sofa. ‘About last night.’
‘Yes?’
‘We killed innocent people.’
Mammon leaned forward. ‘Yes.’
Joe stared at him. ‘That’s all you have to say?’
‘It comes with the job.’
‘But . . . I feel guilty.’
‘Who do you think you are, Joe? An ordinary mercenary? Or something greater?’
Joe shrugged. ‘I don’t feel as though I fit in with the others.’
Mammon snapped his fingers. ‘Exactly! You’re not the same. Whether or not you want to admit it, Joe, you are a destroyer. Your job is not to create or nurture. It’s to do the job most people out there find distasteful. They’d rather hide behind their white picket fences.’ He sat back and stroked the soft leather, savouring its texture. ‘Ever seen A Few Good Men?’