by Alan Baxter
‘She’ll probably still want her revenge against me.’
‘Maybe. But honestly, she was so damaged, I think she’ll be very little threat to anyone. Let her stew over there in grief and the sure knowledge you beat her and the Lord. I don’t think she’ll be back, but we’ll do all we can to stay abreast of any developments in Faerie. We learned a lot from all this and a large proportion of her Fey faithful were destroyed. Not without our own losses, naturally. Lots of people died that night.’ Barclay held up a hand at Alex’s dismay. ‘It’s part of the job and that was by far the biggest and most successful confrontation against the Fey we’ve ever had. Sure, they’ll regroup and the Fey threat will never really go away. Some bastard will rise to take the Lady’s place, I expect, in some twisted internal politics. But their menace will only ever be on the thins now. That’s a massive achievement and worth the cost, hard though it may be to accept. All of the Lord’s heart is truly gone. And I think you’re fairly safe from recrimination. You have nothing they want any more.’
‘What about Hood?’ Silhouette asked. ‘Alex killed him, right?’
Barclay raised his hands. ‘Well, yes and no. The pieces of Hood are still alive, and each piece seems to have something of Uthentia in it. But those pieces have all been sent to places where they will never be found again. Trust me, that’s dealt with.’
‘Still alive?’ Alex asked. ‘I took his head off!’
Barclay grinned. ‘Come with me.’
He stood, strode out of the office and off along a corridor. Silhouette grabbed the handles of Alex’s wheelchair and they followed. Barclay led them to a lift, down into the basement and along another corridor. A huge, circular steel door stood before them. Alex looked over the shades, the dense magesign swimming all around. Two armed guards stood either side.
Barclay nodded and a series of wards and physical barriers were lowered. The door swung silently open. Beyond the door a large room was carved into the bedrock of London. Shelves and lockers lined the walls, glass cabinets stood throughout. Barclay led them to the back and pointed to a steel box with a thick glass window in the front.
Alex raised himself carefully from his chair to look in. Hood’s head sat inside. ‘The fuck?’ Alex stared.
Hood’s eyes popped open. His expression twisted into a visage of hate, his mouth working frantically. Barclay tapped a button on the side of the case and sound burst from a speaker embedded somewhere. Hood’s voice was weak and burbling, cracked and croaking, unintelligible.
‘He has no lungs to make air and only severed, almost useless vocal cords, but he still manages to create that sound, sometimes even intelligible words, and he threatens all kinds of horror. The influence of Uthentia is weak, but it’s there. We’ve done some study on it, but it’s not yielding us much, to be honest. The lab staff call it the Head of Raging Hate.’
‘Why keep it?’ Alex asked, horrified.
‘Why not? It’s a truly unique curiosity. It’s in lockdown here and won’t go anywhere. And as you know, we can’t destroy it.’
‘But surely it’s too dangerous to keep around.’
‘Yes, in the long term. We’re in touch with Armour in the US and they’re talking to NASA. When the next space vehicle goes up, our friend there is going with it. At massive expense, as I’m sure you can imagine. Once it’s out of Earth’s atmosphere, it’ll be jettisoned in the direction of the sun.’
Alex laughed. ‘Oh, that sounds about perfect.’ He stared at Hood’s ranting head, looked deep into the man’s dark, hate-filled eyes. He saw recognition there. Hood knew who he looked at. Alex grinned, lifted one middle finger to the glass and held it there a moment. He slumped back into the chair. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
As they made their way back to the lift, Alex asked, ‘What about Darvill?’
‘No idea. Most reliable reports have him still caught in that giant mechanical thing. It took off with him and vanished. We recorded several gates opening and closing around the area, so we can only assume he was taken back to Faerie with various other fleeing Fey.’
‘Perhaps the Lady will assuage her rage torturing him,’ Alex said, warmed by the thought.
Barclay looked down at Alex, eyebrows raised. ‘We can hope so, no?’
‘Yeah. We’re well rid of that fuck up.’
Silhouette laid a hand on Alex’s shoulder, squeezed gently.
‘I agree,’ Barclay said. ‘The man is far too dangerous. With any luck he’ll stay trapped over there for good.’
‘And Jean Chang?’ Alex asked.
Barclay’s smile was wide and genuine. ‘Now there’s a formidable woman. She’s incredible, the things she knows and the tricks she has for intelligence and organisation.’
‘Yeah, she’s pretty cool. You’re looking after her?’
‘Yes. She’s been working here for some weeks and is already invaluable. We’ll go to see her later. She asks after you often. I promised I’d bring you by.’
‘She and I have had some good chats,’ Silhouette said, sadness quietening her voice. ‘She misses Jarrod terribly. They really had something, you know, however briefly.’
Alex looked into Sil’s eyes, saw tears hovering on the lashes. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Me too. But Jean will be a good friend to both of us, and we need to be there for her.’
‘We will be.’ Alex turned back to Barclay. ‘And what about Emma Parker?’ he asked. ‘She okay?’
Barclay chuckled, shook his head. ‘She is one dangerous woman. She was front and centre of the battle and led the crew who tried to run down the Lady when she was taken away. They didn’t stop her, as I said, but had a decent go at it. Emma was pretty heavily injured, but she’s made a full recovery. Looks like she might take over York if my re-posting here becomes permanent.’
Alex nodded. Parker was hard but fair, and deserved a leadership role. ‘Good for her.’
They made their way back to the office and Barclay ordered them all tea. ‘So, how are you, Alex? Really?’
Alex absently brushed a hand across his chest, felt the ridges and puckers of scar tissue through his T-shirt. His flesh looked like a relief map of the moon. ‘I’m physically okay. Getting there anyway. The Darak is gone, but I seem to have retained some of the power it gave me. Nothing like as much as when it was part of me, but I still have a surprising ability according to the docs here.’
Barclay nodded, took a tray as it was delivered to the door. ‘You lived with that thing for a fair time. It’s only natural you would absorb a lot of its influence. Plus you have a remarkable natural ability. I mean, you may not be catching falling buses again any time soon, but you might one day with practice and training. But what about … mentally? You coping okay?’
Alex shook his head. ‘Not really. Your counsellors here are great, though. We’re working through a lot of stuff. And Silhouette’s here. All the time I have her, I know I’ll be okay. It’s just, sometimes in the night …’ His voice petered out as half-remembered nightmare images danced across his mind. A thousand faceless dead screamed silently at him and he winced.
Silhouette put her arm around his shoulders. ‘We’ll be okay,’ she told Barclay. ‘It’s a long road, but he’s tough and I’m not going anywhere. Physically and emotionally, we’ll build him back up.’
Barclay nodded, gripped Alex’s knee briefly in a gesture of solidarity. ‘You can busy yourself getting on with your life now. And we’d still love to have you on board. Plus, your vision means you’ll be able to study pretty much any grimoire you can find. You have unbound potential. A lot to live for, yes?’
Alex smiled. ‘I’m looking forward to learning more, without the constant threat of having to survive. Be nice to take some time for myself.’
‘And given your level of power, you’ll be around a long time to get your practice in.’
‘Which is just as well,’ Silhouette said.
Alex leaned over, kissed her. ‘I’m not going anywhere any time soon. What hap
pened to the sword?’ he asked Barclay.
‘The sword? You mean your sword?’
Alex grinned. ‘Well, I was hoping …’
‘I think you’ve earned it, if you want it.’
‘I really do.’
Barclay rummaged on his desk, handed Alex a sheet of paper. ‘Here’s what little we know, recovered from Sydney. The lab folks here are having another look, but it’s yours to collect when you’re ready. It’s one of three connected items, apparently. We’re tracing the mythology, to see if we can figure out where the other two are.’
‘Three items?’ Alex asked.
‘Apparently so. Could be quite interesting to find out what the other two are and how they work together, yes?’ Barclay winked. ‘Perhaps something you could look into, help us with?’
Alex smiled, nodded gently. ‘I’d certainly be interested.’
‘The team made a new scabbard for the sword,’ Barclay said, ‘as the original was lost with Darvill. It helps to mask the powerful presence of the thing.’
Alex folded the paper and pocketed it to read later. ‘Great, thanks. I reckon it might be useful in any future jobs I might do for Armour, yeah?’
Barclay poured tea, handed them each a cup. ‘Quite. So, let’s discuss the future.’
35
Alex checked the map as they drove through winding streets between slate-roofed buildings. ‘That fork in the road coming up, take the right and go up the hill.’
Silhouette nodded, guided the car. ‘There it is. I recognise it from the website.’
‘Yep.’
She pulled in through a wooden gateway onto a gravel drive and parked next to the house. A hand-painted sign by the door read B&B RECEPTION with an arrow beneath. They got out and walked across the driveway to take in the view. Green hills rolled down to a glittering lake, rose again on the other side. Sheep like tiny earthbound clouds moved lazily across the grass. The sky above was brilliant blue, the spring sun beating down warm and all-embracing. Birds sang, insects buzzed, multi-hued flowers bloomed in the B&B’s gardens.
Alex put his arm around Silhouette. ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’
Silhouette slipped an arm around his waist. ‘It really is. We’ve earned this.’
‘I say we go and visit Halliday this afternoon,’ Alex said. ‘Partly because I’m kinda looking forward to seeing the funny old bastard, but mostly to get it out of the way. Then it’s just us and a holiday.’
Silhouette laid her head against his shoulder. ‘Sounds good. We going to take the jobs?’
‘Yeah, I think so. I owe it to the organisation, right? And like you said before, I need direction. Something to do. It’ll be cool for us to work together. You want to join them, yeah?’
‘Sure, why not. We can always quit if it doesn’t work out. London or Sydney?’
‘Don’t know. It was nice of them to offer me the choice. And a pretty senior role for both of us in either one. In all honesty, I really don’t think I’m qualified …’
‘Oh, hush, you’ll be brilliant at it. We both will. Like Barclay said, you’ll probably be in charge of an HQ in no time.’
Alex laughed. ‘Well, I’m definitely not qualified for that yet!’
‘Their numbers are low, they’re scraping the barrel.’ She laughed and danced back as Alex swung a playful shot at her. ‘You’re a figurehead,’ she said. ‘You represent strength against adversity. That’s why they’re offering you a good job. But you’ll learn and you’ll be great.’
‘Still going to have a lot of resistance. So many people in Armour don’t like me.’
‘You’ll win them over, you charming bastard.’
Alex nodded, gathered her back into his arms. ‘I’ll try. Which would you prefer? London or Sydney?’
‘I don’t know. Let’s worry about that in a couple of weeks, eh?’ She moved away, opened the boot of the hire car. ‘Let’s get our stuff inside.’
‘Sure. And then we’ll walk down the road to the pub and have a drink in honour of Jarrod before we go see Halliday.’
Silhouette smiled, her eyes sad. ‘Yeah, let’s do that. And promise me one thing.’
‘What?’
‘No fucking adventures for a little while!’
Alex shouldered his bag, took her chin gently in one hand and kissed her. He pulled away with a grin. ‘I’ll do my best. But no promises.’
Acknowledgements
Huge thanks to my wonderful wife, Halinka, whose love and support make anything possible. And to my son, Arlo, who was only a few months old during the editing and publication of this volume and managed not to be too cranky and let me get it done.
Invaluable to this book are Angela Slatter and Joanne Anderton, great friends and great critiquers both. Their help is beyond measure.
My great thanks also to Alex Adsett, superagent, and to Rochelle Fernandez and all the amazing team at HarperVoyager. You guys rock.
To all my friends in the writing community, thanks for your constant encouragement and support. See you at the bar, guys.
And lastly, thanks to you, dear reader. Thanks for coming on the journey with me this far. I hope you’ve enjoyed it. With any luck I’ll get to write more in this series, because I’d love to continue sharing Alex Caine’s story with you.
All the places other than Faerie in this book are real, but I’ve taken a few fictional licences with many of them for the purposes of story. Otherwise, any and all mistakes are entirely my own.
Alex Caine Series by Alan Baxter
Click here to buy Book 1: Bound
Click here to buy Book 2: Obsidian
Click here to buy Book 3: Abduction
About the author
ALAN BAXTER is a British–Australian author who writes dark fantasy, horror and sci-fi, rides a motorcycle and loves his dog. He also teaches Kung Fu. As well as novels, he is the author of more than fifty published short stories and has written narratives and dialogue for video games. By day (and night more often than not) Alan is director and chief instructor of the Illawarra Kung Fu Academy. He lives among dairy paddocks on the beautiful south coast of NSW, Australia, with his wife, son, dog and cat. Read extracts from his novels, a novella and short stories at his website — www.warriorscribe.com — and find him on Twitter @AlanBaxter and Facebook. Feel free to tell him what you think. About anything.
Books by Alan Baxter
Bound
Obsidian
Abduction
Imprint
HarperVoyager
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
First published in Australia in 2014
by HarperCollinsPublishers Australia Pty Limited
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Copyright © Alan Baxter 2014
The right of him to be identified as the author
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National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication data:
Baxter, Alan, author.
Abduction / Alan Baxter.
ISBN: 978 0 7322 9912 5 (paperback)
ISBN: 978 1 4607 0288 8 (ebook)
Baxter, Alan. Alex Caine series ; 3.
> Fantasy fiction.
Suspense fiction.
A823.4
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Cover illustration copyright © Johnson Ting 2014