by J. B. Thomas
‘Yeah. My dad used to like it.’ Joe pictured Dad, sitting in the recliner with a beer, rattling off the film’s memorable lines.
Sadness welled in his gut.
Mammon narrowed his eyes; his voice intense. ‘Remember the scene where Jack Nicholson is under cross-examination in court? What he says to defend his difficult but necessary role?’
‘Yeah.’ Joe took a gulp of beer.
‘We need you on that wall, Joe. And part of being the vigilant defender – which is basically what sarsareh means – is to make tough choices. Unavoidably, we must sacrifice the innocent for the greater good.’
‘Yeah,’ Joe sighed. ‘I guess you’re right.’
Mammon clasped his hands and leaned forward. ‘I know I am. But the good news is we won’t need to do that in future. We can spare the innocent from further tragedies.’
‘Why is that?’
‘We believe that this fight will be over much faster if we use fire to fight fire.’ He leaned forward, eyes glittering. ‘You know we don’t mess about, don’t you?’
Joe nodded.
‘Have you ever wondered where the demonic energy originates?’
‘I know where it comes from.’
‘Do you really? You’ve been taught that human beings just manifest the demonic energy, haven’t you? That they grow it?’ With smiling eyes, he pressed his hand to his lips as though to suppress a laugh. ‘That’s a very basic theory.’
He raised a finger. ‘Let me fill you in on the truth. The energy doesn’t just materialise out of thin air. These people summon it – subconsciously, of course. It attaches itself; it merges with the human to become one being. Perfect symbiosis, in many cases. So, where do you think the energy comes from?’
‘Hell,’ whispered Haures.
Mammon pressed his palms together. ‘Imagine if you could open a rift and bring through the demonic energy in far greater quantities. Then, destroy it! That would put a stop to the dark entities that are seeping in. That way, we’re cleaning house on a universal level – not just planet Earth.’
Joe nodded. ‘That sounds like an awesome idea.’ A chance to alleviate his guilt, to make amends for the innocent lives taken last night. He finished his drink and set the bottle down on the table. ‘I would definitely be in.’
Mammon smiled. ‘Excellent. Why don’t we do it tonight? Wake up to a new world tomorrow.’
Joe shook his head. ‘I’m a bit tired. It takes a lot of energy, you know.’ His gaze turned to the smooth skin on Haures’s shoulders and neck, her lips, full and sweet. Energy I’d much rather use somewhere else, he thought to himself.
‘Fine.’ Mammon leaned back and spread his arms on the sofa’s headrest. ‘Get some rest and we’ll talk in the morning.’ He gave Haures a sharp nod.
She stood up and reached down for Joe’s hand. ‘Come on. Let’s go for a walk.’
* * *
AS MAMMON WATCHED Joe walk out on to the deck, he felt a stirring at the back of his head – his essence was burning to get out and kick this boy around the room – to make him obey immediately. But, no. Slowly, gently. He was too close to frighten Joe off now.
* * *
It was nearly two am when Haures stopped outside the guest cabin. Gently, she pressed her lips against Joe’s mouth.
‘Goodnight, then.’
Joe pouted. ‘What – you’re leaving me alone?’
She pinched his cheek. ‘You need to rest for tomorrow. It’s not every day that you save the world.’
Joe pulled her close, his hands caressing her back, his forehead pressed against hers. ‘I want you,’ he whispered.
She touched his lips with her fingertip. ‘The feeling’s mutual. Tell you what – we’ll go away tomorrow night. Just the two of us. Mammon will want to reward you. Did you know that he has a private island in the Caribbean?’
‘Sounds great,’ Joe smiled.
‘So . . .’ Haures pulled her finger away. ‘Sleep tight, and tomorrow night we’ll be in our own bed.’
Joe tilted his head. ‘You promise?’
She nodded and ran her finger down her chest, lingering between her breasts. ‘You’ll be well rewarded, Joe.’
‘Okay.’ He kissed her again, then he turned towards his cabin.
* * *
JOE FELT HIS body begin to relax and his limbs grow numb as sleep approached. As he drifted towards dreaming, a low voice was speaking in the distance – far away, as though it were in another room on Mammon’s yacht.
Then, in the dark, a tiny white dot appeared. It grew into a shimmering circle of light. Strange, he didn’t usually see stuff just as he was about to go to sleep . . .
The voice grew louder. ‘Joe, wake up.’
He opened his eyes. The room was soaked in the light, but his eyes didn’t sting. His pulse shot up as he realised: the light was a rift.
A figure stepped out of the white fog. ‘Hello, Joe.’
Joe squinted. ‘Who are you?’ The man looked as though he was wearing some kind of robe . . . but the light flooded out so much detail. A sweet, burning scent came – like the incense candles that Mum used to buy.
‘My name is Utu. I thought we could have a little walk.’
Joe breathed out, blinking. Of all the weird stuff that had been happening . . . But a resounding sense of calm seemed to overcome him. ‘Okay.’ He glanced out the window; nobody out there seemed to have noticed. Then again, it certainly was more gentle than the hellhole he’d shoved Malcolm’s head into a few hours before. He grimaced as he remembered the boy’s horrified face.
Utu turned towards the rift. ‘You can enter.’
Joe paused. ‘Are you sure?’
‘You have nothing to fear, Ferryman.’
As Joe stepped inside, the insides were awash with the same landscapes he recognised in his own rifts: the grey, lightning-flecked clouds.
He heard a rush of wind.
Something was coming.
He could hear a tearing, screeching howl; could see several blurs of white coming at him like arrows – he closed his eyes in terror.
Then, silence.
‘It’s all right, Joe.’ Utu’s hand was warm on his arm.
Joe opened his eyes. The bony monster – no, make that monsters – were suspended in the air around him. He counted at least twenty; they hung there, calm, quiet – even obedient – their monstrous, hollow eyes fixed on nothing in particular; those teeth not snapping. Just hanging . . . waiting.
‘They’re yours to control, Joe. Remember?’
‘What are they?’
‘Reavers. See the lightning?’ Utu pointed to the surrounding clouds. ‘It is a lot further away than you think. That lightning is actually the Reavers, travelling at high speed through the infinite space of the rift.’
‘What are they?’
‘Guardians of the rift. Consider them antibodies, whose purpose is to clean out any foreign bodies in here.’
‘But we survive?’
‘We’re Ferrymen, Joe.’ Utu gestured ahead, and a stone path appeared with calm water on each side. ‘Shall we?’
GRACE WOKE AT dawn – the shafts of gloomy light peering through the curtains hit her face, dragging her from her dreamworld. She peeled apart her crusty eyelashes and rolled onto her side, hugging the pillow closer. A crushing depression hit as her mind replayed last night’s drama.
Despite Ivan’s reassurances something ached inside. Those things Malcolm had said . . . they sounded all too true – the bosses did want Joe, and by raining gifts on him, promoting him and feeding his ego, they’d shown where their priorities lay. She could just imagine Marcus sitting there, Malcolm at his side, discussing with Ivan the importance of her seduction. And all the while, he was probably seeing that girl, Stephan
ie. Or if not her, someone else.
Ivan probably didn’t even care about Grace at all; he was told to make her happy. She stared at the window as new spatters of rain fell, blurring the outside into a mass of green, grey and white. Warm tears spilled from her eyes. She curled up into a ball and choked out a sob, her stomach contracting with the knifing pain at the thought that he’d betrayed her; and worse, the idea of a future without him.
* * *
JOE’S EYES SNAPPED open. He sat up, mouth open, eyes wide as he stared around his surroundings.
He was back at Renfield.
A memory poked through his mind – the last thing he recalled was standing on the deck, saying goodnight to Haures outside the guestroom. Then, as if floodgates had been smashed open, the whole memory spilled through.
The boat.
The blinding light.
Utu.
‘I went into a rift last night.’
His hand flew up to his eye: no tenderness there. Catching his face in the mirror, he nodded in confirmation. The bruise was gone. Somehow it had healed while he was away.
He looked down – and saw that he was wearing a new amulet. He cradled it in his fingers, staring. It gave off a warm light and a calming energy. The chain was silver, and the amulet itself was a blue stone, inside which lay a small circle of wood.
Chunks of memories – things he had thought happened in a dream – began to come together as a reality. The old man – Utu – had given him this amulet. ‘It will give you powerful protection against demons – far more than the pendant your father gave you.’
And then, he remembered the whole discussion.
The truth about Mammon.
The truth about himself – and how close he came. He shuddered. He needed to find the others.
Joe jumped out of bed, put on his jeans and t-shirt, then headed towards Grace’s room.
‘TO HELL WITH this.’ Grace was tired of her thoughts going around in circles. It was time to find out for sure. Marching along the corridor, she ignored the groans from neighbouring rooms as she pounded the door. ‘Ivan! Open up!’
He pulled the door open and gave her an alarmed once-over. ‘Grace?’ He peered at the dark circles under her eyes. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Why did you lie to me?’
He took her arm and pulled her into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. ‘Malcolm is the liar, not me.’
How much Grace wanted to believe that! ‘You knew I played the violin. You pretended it was a surprise when you saw it in my room.’
‘That’s not true. I didn’t know.’
‘What else did you know about me? Did you do your research? Find out you everything you’d need to know, so that you could pretend to be interested? Fake being my friend, and –’ The tears began to well; she forced them back.
He held her by the arms; she wrenched away. ‘Don’t. I don’t want you to touch me.’
‘Then why did you come here?’ The calm in his voice irritated and unnerved her.
‘Nothing I have said or done, none of it was a lie,’ he said.
‘I don’t know. You could be lying to me right now.’
His eyes fell on the moonstone. ‘I gave you the ring.’
She looked up. ‘So?’
‘My father gave that ring to my mother.’ He held her hand, stroking her fingers. ‘I wouldn’t give it to just anybody.’
‘What about that girl, Stephanie?’ She bowed her head, squeezing her eyes until the tears would disappear.
Ivan cupped her chin, lifting it. The warmth sent a longing pain through her; the feeling was so close, just like last night.
His words were a whisper that caressed her face. ‘I don’t care for her. But I don’t want to hurt her feelings. It’s my fault; I should have told her.’ He sighed. ‘Yes, they wanted me to keep you happy. But I did that of my own free will. Not because they told me to, but because I care for you so much.’
She blinked. ‘You do?’
He stroked her cheek with his forefinger. ‘I like you more than you could ever know. I’ve wanted to be with you from the first day we met. When you looked up at me, after falling out of that tree, I had to restrain myself from pulling you into my arms.’
She blushed and lowered her head again. He slid his finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. His eyes burned into her; she felt her legs quiver.
‘With each step you’ve taken, with each day that’s come to pass, I’ve grown to care about you even more.’ He caressed her cheek.
Grace stared at him, tilting her head so her cheek rested in his palm. The anger was melting away now, and that warm feeling was spreading through her body. She knew she had a stupid, puppy-dog look on her face.
‘Sometimes, when I’ve been angry with you about how you’ve handled a situation it’s because I was so afraid that you would be taken from me,’ Ivan said. ‘I could not stand it.’
‘You won’t lose me,’ she whispered. Her heart was pounding now.
Ivan slid his other hand around her waist and pulled her close, pressing her against him. She tilted her head back to look up at him. He bent his face towards hers, touching his lips to hers very gently at first. He pulled back for a moment, and she lost herself in the soft affection in his eyes.
Then he kissed her again – more deeply this time, his mouth warm and comforting, the pressure just right, his tongue poised at the edge of her mouth but just tickling, never pushing. His hand stroked her back in gentle circles. She slid her fingers behind his neck and caressed his hair. A longing for more flooded her, and she followed her instinct, pulling him closer, her mouth giving him a little more room, her tongue teasing his.
A sharp knock jolted them both. She groaned. Ivan rested his forehead against hers. ‘What timing.’ She blushed under his heated stare.
With a smile, he planted a tender kiss on her fingers before letting go.
‘This had better be important.’ Ivan opened the door.
Joe stumbled in. ‘I need to talk to you both.’ He stood in the middle of the room.
Grace stared at him. ‘How did you know I was here?’
‘Everyone knows you’re here. You woke up half the Residence, apparently.’
‘What is the matter?’ Ivan shut the door and gave Joe an appraising look.
‘Last night I went to see those mercenaries again.’
Ivan glanced from Joe to Grace. ‘What mercenaries?’
‘Mammon was pretending all along,’ Joe said. ‘He wanted me to open a rift for him. He’s a demon, Grace! All of them are.’
‘No, no. They can’t be,’ said Grace. ‘They don’t have Shadows. And I don’t feel sick near them.’
‘They can conceal their essences,’ said Joe. ‘Which explains why you don’t get sick.’
‘Who is Mammon?’ demanded Ivan.
Grace frowned. ‘How do you know all this, Joe?’
‘Utu told me. Inside the rift.’
Ivan threw up his arms in frustration. ‘What the hell is going on?’
‘Sorry, Ivan.’ Joe gave him an apologetic smile. ‘I should have told you about all this.’ Having caught his breath, he now began to pace around the room.
‘At first I thought I was dreaming.’ Joe reached under his shirt and pulled out the amulet.
‘Wow.’ Grace took the sapphire stone between her fingers. A small wedge of wood was encased within the stone. ‘Is it real?’
Joe gave a vigorous nod.
‘It gives out a great deal of energy,’ said Ivan.
‘Utu’s a Ferryman, just like me. He came to warn me about Mammon. He told me a lot, Grace. There’s so much to tell you!’
There was another knock at the door. The three looked towards the door and then back at each oth
er.
Joe nodded. ‘It might be Diana. We need to tell her everything.’
Grace swung open the door.
Malcolm stood in the doorway, his face sweaty and pale, his eyes distant. It was clear that the shock over last night hadn’t left him. But something else shone in his eyes. A glint of emotion, something new.
Grace gasped. ‘What are you doing here? You should be in hospital!’
Trancelike, Malcolm lifted his hand. The gun glinted in the early morning sun. He pointed it straight at Joe. ‘They said that you’d come in here.’
Grace recognised the emotion. It was the kind she’d seen in adults whose innocence had been robbed at a young age through some savage act, leaving them with the disturbed, intimate knowledge of the darkness in the human soul.
He was going to murder her brother.
‘No!’ She lunged to the side, trying to grab Joe and pull him away. She felt Ivan move with her; his body blocking hers, his arms flailing to grab her.
‘Stop!’ Ivan’s shout was drowned out by a thunderous boom as Malcolm pulled the trigger.
Then, an abrupt silence. Malcolm let his hand drop to his side, his face clenched with horror. He watched Grace lean over Ivan, who was slumped on his back next to her. ‘Ivan?’ Grace touched his face. Pale, lifeless eyes stared past her, at the ceiling. Blood gushed from his t-shirt, from the bullet that hit his heart.
THIS WAS A new terror, a sick wrenching she hadn’t felt before. Even with Mum and Dad . . . Grace pressed her ear to Ivan’s chest, where blood was now pumping from the wound, soaking his shirt. There was no sound, no movement in his lungs.
‘I can’t hear his heart!’ Oh, God – no. No. This couldn’t be happening.
Shaking, Malcolm dropped the gun. ‘I didn’t mean to shoot him.’ He pointed a trembling finger at Joe. ‘It was supposed to be you!’
A small crowd had gathered near the doorway. Grace threw a desperate glance backwards. ‘Call the medics!’
A firm hand descended onto her shoulder. ‘Grace, let me take him,’ Joe urged.