by Alan Baxter
‘But what does it mean?’ Darius asked. ‘Clearly we need to use our combined power. But we know that already. That’s how we started all this.’
Salay stroked his beard, long fingers combing through the dense black hair. ‘Yes, but this is the first time this ritual has produced such clarity. The nexus. We must seek this nexus. Death and danger, but also revelation. That’s where we harness the power we’ve discovered.’
‘And we find the nexus by following stone and line,’ Nicholas said. ‘You think that means stones like stone circles, and ley lines? This ritual was found at a stone circle, after all.’
Darius nodded, still staring at his notepad. ‘Possibly. But where to start? If stones and ley lines are going to act like a map for us, we need a place to start.’
‘And I still urge caution,’ Salay said. ‘We don’t really know what it is we’ve contacted.’
Nicholas sat up straight, threw his pad onto the table. It landed with a slap, startling his owl. ‘Well, I suggest we start at the nearest stones and try to commune with our new friend there. See if we can’t narrow things down and learn more about it. Sunkenkirk is just down the road. And somewhere around here I’ve got some old maps of ley lines.’ He opened an oak door into the next room, a library with shelf upon shelf bowed under the weight of books, and began rummaging earnestly. The other men followed him and the owl closed its eyes.
2
The two-hour drive south from the city was peaceful and they arrived at Alex’s house late. The summer night, warm and close, buzzed with insects that gathered around the light over the garage. Alex stretched and winced. ‘I’m looking forward to that concoction of yours.’
Silhouette patted her pocket. ‘Let’s get in and I’ll have it ready in no time.’
‘I didn’t expect Crabapple to be a Kin,’ Alex said, remembering the dingy shop in King Street, the transaction that felt like a back alley drug deal.
‘Who did you expect to be trading with Fey? Humans?’
Alex shook his head. ‘I guess I expected Fey.’
Silhouette barked a harsh laugh. ‘In this realm? It’s hard enough to deal with a Kin who has direct connections with Faerie. Dealing with an actual Fey? Fuck that. You’ve got a lot to learn.’
‘Yeah, I’d like to know.’
Sil fixed him with a hard glare. ‘No. You wouldn’t.’
Alex chose not to pursue the subject further. For now. But Silhouette was half Fey, one of the few first generation Kin in the world, her human mother raped by a Fey. He would take his time and pry gently, but one day he would learn more.
They turned towards the house and froze. Alex sensed a presence nearby and knew Sil had spotted it too. They said nothing, both trying to get a better feel, letting their shades drift into whatever might be out there. Alex knew his vision was far more developed than that of pretty much anyone or anything he’d met thus far, but this felt different. He faced back up the driveway, the presence clear as a bright light in a dark room. It wanted to be noticed.
‘Hi there.’ The voice was male, the colours definitely human. The feel of the shades reminded Alex of Patrick Welby, the old magus in London who had died for him. He had taught Alex about his true nature, had set him on a path of mastering elemental magic. The person who had cursed Alex with Uthentia’s grimoire and the Darak stone. All so recent, yet it seemed a lifetime ago. This man seemed of a similar age and ability to Welby, a magus of average skills.
‘What do you want?’ Alex asked.
Silhouette moved silently from his side, disappeared into the shadows. Her Kin instincts guided her and Alex knew she would burst from cover with animal fury if even the slightest threat presented itself.
‘My name is John Doe. I’m here as a representative for Armour. We want to ask for your help.’
‘John Doe?’
‘I can explain everything. Really, I’m no threat. I made myself as plain to you as I could. I just want to talk.’
Alex had always preferred his own company and the peace and quiet of the country. He was more than happy to make an exception for Silhouette these days, but that was about it. ‘I don’t want whatever you’re selling. Thanks anyway.’ He turned to his front door, pulled a set of keys from his pocket.
‘We really need to talk. I’m not going anywhere till I get a chance to explain.’
Alex turned back, his eyes hard. ‘How about you fuck off right now? I don’t want to have to make you.’
John Doe stepped forward, into the light from the garage. He was a tall man, strong-looking, with short dark hair and a square jaw. Regardless of the true age Alex sensed, this man appeared much younger than Welby had. Perhaps his power was greater than Alex had first suspected. He wore all black, army boots, cargo pants, T-shirt. ‘You could make me, Alex Caine. I wouldn’t stand a chance against you. Or her.’ He tipped his head to the bushes behind him to the left where Alex knew Silhouette circled. ‘But then they’d send someone else. Someone stronger. Then they’d send a team. Then they’d decide to treat you as an enemy rather than a potential ally and they’d make sure to shut you down.’
‘You really shouldn’t be threatening me.’
‘It’s not a threat. I’m just explaining how it works. Right now we want to be friends and I’d really like to talk to you. But this won’t end.’
Alex sucked his teeth in frustration. ‘No choice, huh?’
John Doe hitched his shoulders, raised his palms. ‘No choice. But please, let’s be friends. Let’s talk.’
Alex opened the front door and went inside, flicking lights on as he headed through to the kitchen. Silhouette slipped from hiding and into the house without a word. Doe let out a relieved breath, shut the door behind himself as he followed them.
Alex filled the kettle. ‘Tea? Seeing as we’re going to be friends.’ He did nothing to hide the sarcasm in his voice.
John Doe inclined his head. ‘Thanks.’
Silhouette took the recently purchased ingredients from her pocket — Moonflower and Grief Water, Bloodheart seed and Mer-hair. Alex remembered their names, wondered at their origins. She took down a mortar and pestle, and other ingredients from a locked drawer, and began grinding and mixing. She said nothing, concentrated on her work, but her attention was piano wire taut and focused on Doe.
Alex made three cups of tea. ‘So, John Doe? Hiding behind an alias, especially such a weak one, is no way to start a friendship.’
The big man smiled. Alex saw he was fit, strong, built like a fighter. He looked to be around thirty, maybe a bit more, but his shades spoke in decades beyond a century, something Alex had got used to surprisingly quickly.
‘We’re all called John Doe in the field. Except the women, of course, who are Jane Doe. No names outside.’
‘Must get tricky when you’re all out together,’ Alex said.
John Doe raised an eyebrow. ‘We manage. This is my ID.’ He pulled a leather wallet from his pocket, flipped it open. It held a silver badge, an intricate design of circles overlapping each other that reminded Alex of the more complicated crop circles he’d seen online. Among the circles were other symbols — pentagrams, triquetra, the Illuminati eye. In raised gothic letters across the circles was ARMOUR and under that a number, 1888-0065391-01. Doe ran his fingertip along the number. ‘Year of joining Armour, ID number, gender identity. 02 is female, 03 is indeterminate.’
Alex nodded, choosing not to question what indeterminate sex might mean. ‘You joined this Armour the same year Jack the Ripper was busy.’
Doe grinned at him. ‘You know your history. That’s no coincidence either, except back then he was still known as Leather Apron.’
Alex handed him a cup of tea. ‘Milk, sugar?’
‘No, thanks.’
‘So, what’s Armour then? Some fancy acronym for an occult society?’
‘No, it’s a perfectly accurate name. Armour is an organisation that guards against threats supernatural and magical. We’ve been around a long time.’
‘How long?’
‘The organisation originated in 1149, at the end of the second Crusade. A group of magi learned of a plan by the Knights Templar that would have had massive ramifications across the world. They fought to interfere with the Templars’ plans, were successful, barely, and decided to codify their existence in case anything like it happened again. We have a motto: “Born Of Cataclysm To Prevent Cataclysm”. Quite literally, armour against disaster.’
Alex sipped his tea thoughtfully, unsure what to say. What did they want with him?
‘I’ve heard of you,’ Silhouette said quietly. She carefully dripped Grief Water into the mix. It had an aura that filled Alex with such melancholy he had to look away as it hissed and vaporised almost immediately.
‘Yes, you probably have. You’re from Joseph’s Den.’ It wasn’t a question. Doe was demonstrating his knowledge.
Silhouette stopped grinding, looked over her shoulder. ‘You screwed up one of Joseph’s plans but good. For months every other thing out of his mouth was, “Fucking Armour this” or “Fucking Armour that”. But he never did tell us what the problem was.’
‘I wasn’t on that case. I could find out, if you want.’
Silhouette shrugged, turned back to her mixing. ‘Doesn’t matter. My bridges with the Den are pretty much burned these days. I’m a lone Kin, like so many others. Den life is over-rated.’
‘Not exactly alone though,’ Doe said. ‘You and Mr Caine here are quite a team.’
‘What exactly do you know about us?’ Alex asked. He wasn’t comfortable with the imbalance of information.
Doe sipped his tea again, then set the mug down on the counter. He seemed uncomfortable standing around the kitchen, but Alex was not about to offer the man a seat and make him feel welcome. He wasn’t.
‘We try to monitor all kinds of activity that could be a threat to the stability of life as we know it,’ Doe said. ‘We operate outside government control, though most governments and agencies are happy to work with us, or at least tolerate us. We do the dirty work, after all. There’s no way we can stay on top of everything that happens, but something makes enough noise, we take notice and get involved. You two made a lot of noise recently.’
‘We took care of ourselves, thanks very much.’
‘Yes, you most certainly did. We were playing catch up all the way. We first noticed the massive magical explosion that turned out to be the destruction of Patrick Welby’s house.’
Alex winced. He still felt a pang of guilt at the old man’s death. ‘That was the work of Uthentia.’
Doe’s eyebrow raised and Alex cursed himself, realising he’d given away something Armour hadn’t known. He determined to offer nothing more. ‘That soon?’ Doe asked.
Alex remained silent, so Doe carried on. ‘Fair enough. Anyway, long story short, we came across a number of disturbances: the fight in the London Den, the creature you killed in the hotel room in Newfoundland, the disruption in Rome, then Iceland. We talked to Joseph and Lorenzo. In truth we don’t really know what the hell went on, only that you had a pretty huge challenge and you rose to it. And all the people we spoke to told us what a remarkable vision you had, how much power you’d gained very quickly and how determined you were. They were stunned you’d managed to recover all the pieces of a power stone long thought lost. Is it true you bonded with it? It’s part of you now?’
Alex raised a hand to touch his chest, where the shards were a constant warm presence, pulsing in time with his heart. ‘The stone and I are one now, yeah.’
‘Can I see?’
Alex lifted his T-shirt. Doe leaned forward, looked with eyes and mind, though his magical probing was soft, polite. ‘Fascinating,’ he said, standing back. ‘And given what little you let me feel then I can see you mask yourself brilliantly. You are potent.’
‘I’m still learning. This is all a bit new to me.’
Silhouette drew a glass of water, sprinkled a pinch of brown powder into it and handed it to Alex. It effervesced and turned purple. She had a good amount of the medicine made, which she folded into a dark green leaf and tucked into a leather pouch. Alex swallowed the bittersweet concoction in one gulp and felt the healing buzz through his body almost immediately. His wounds began knitting back together, the pain in his leg finally subsiding. He kissed her. ‘Thanks.’
She smiled, but her distrust and concern for the presence of John Doe remained undiminished. She sat on a kitchen stool and sipped her tea.
‘So what is it you’re after?’ Alex asked.
‘We kinda hoped you’d think about joining our ranks.’
‘Not a chance.’
‘Which is what we thought you’d say. But even if you won’t join us, perhaps you’d help us?’
‘Why should I? I don’t need more complications in my life.’
John Doe rinsed his empty mug, put it upside down on the draining board. ‘How was your fight today?’
Alex chose not to be surprised that Doe knew about Wilhelm’s place and his part in it. ‘Unfulfilling, to tell you the truth.’
‘That’s what I thought. I’ll be honest with you, Mr Caine, we’re a little scared by you. Worried what you might do, what impact you might have. So we’d really like you to be an ally, not an enemy. But I think that’s a given anyway. You’re not a bad person.’
Alex smiled sardonically. ‘Gee, thanks.’
‘But given what we’ve learned about your ability to find things, we’d love to have your assistance. There’s one particular case bothering us, and it could be the kind of thing you’re almost custom-built to help with.’
‘What’s in it for me?’
‘Purpose. Fulfilment. Money. We’d pay you very well as an Armour subcontractor.’
Alex winced at the word, reminded again of the fight he’d lost. The fight that would have killed him if it hadn’t been for a scared woman and a shotgun and some very fortuitous timing. But the things Doe said did make some sense. He couldn’t fight any more. The thrill and challenge of that had gone and he was likely to keep upping the ante until something killed him. Yet he wasn’t ready for retirement and painting watercolours yet. He’d spent all his savings dealing with Uthentia and needed an income.
John Doe held up a hand. ‘I don’t need an answer now. I’m grateful you let me have this chat with you and I’m sure you want to think things over. I’ll come back tomorrow and we can talk again.’
‘There was an implied threat before,’ Alex said. ‘You mentioned a lack of choice.’
Doe smiled. ‘Well, that was before you chatted with me. I’m fairly comfortable you’d be no threat, but Armour does like to keep an eye on things. It might be better to be on their good side and they’re more likely to leave you alone.’
‘That threat is still implied.’
‘There’s always choice, Mr Caine. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He nodded politely to Silhouette and left, closing the front door behind him.
‘Feeling better?’ Silhouette asked.
‘Yes, thanks.’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘Just as well we did get some more healing powder today. You’re thinking about accepting his offer, aren’t you?’
‘You think I shouldn’t?’
Silhouette stretched and brought her arms down around his neck, kissed him. ‘Actually, no. I think it might be a good idea. You need something to focus your attention and we do work very well together.’
He returned her kiss. ‘I was kinda looking forward to a bit of a rest, lazing around here with you.’
‘We’ve had a few weeks already and let’s be honest, you’ve been pretty antsy.’
He pouted, mock outrage.
‘You just spent your evening fighting. You ripped the heart out of a demon, Alex!’
He laughed, unable to pretend any different. ‘Yeah, I guess I always need to fight something. But I don’t want to become part of this Armour group. I’m not going to end up a card-carrying John Doe.’
‘You don’t have
to. Offer them your services on your own terms.’
‘What do you think he wants me to do?’
Silhouette took his hand and led him through to the bedroom. ‘Who knows? Guess we’ll find out in the morning. But I know what I want you to do right now, and that’s all that should concern you.’
Claude Darvill strode into the Black Diamond Incorporated tower in London’s Docklands and headed straight for the private lift at the back of the foyer. He’d only ever been in the building on a handful of occasions, always after hours. Seeing the place busy and populated was strange. A burly security guard stepped forward, eyes roving up and down Darvill’s desert boots, khaki combat pants, flannel shirt, leather fedora.
‘Hold up, Indiana Jones,’ he said, putting a hand out to Claude’s chest.
Darvill grimaced. Everyone was a comedian. He would have to watch the film one day and see what all the fuss was about. He pulled a laminated card from his shirt pocket and held it up.
The man leaned down to study the picture, then appraised Darvill again. ‘Haven’t seen you before, Mr Darvill. Sorry about that.’
Darvill pocketed the card. ‘No need to apologise. I’m never usually in the office. But call me Indiana Jones again and I’ll have your bollocks for a necktie.’
The big man frowned. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said grudgingly and stepped aside.
Darvill entered the lift and hit the button for the executive floor. Only two floors sat above the boardroom — his father’s offices and his father’s penthouse — but he would see the board first.
He stepped out of the elevator moments later and a rather plain, middle-aged woman in a business suit and skirt stepped forward. ‘Mr Darvill?’
‘Yes.’
‘Welcome, sir. I’m Sue Carruthers. I do apologise, but everyone here is a bit taken by surprise. Most of us had no idea you even existed.’
Darvill smiled at her, completely without humour. ‘That was rather the idea. They ready?’
Sue turned, indicating the corridor to the boardroom. A harried exec scurried in as they approached, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder. Sue left him at the door and Darvill walked in, scanned the room.