by Ian Somers
If they were aware of Sterling’s true identity, then they were not the heroes I believed them to be. No. They had tricked me. The people who surrounded me in this room were more genuine than the Guild had ever truly been. It would have made sense for me to join them and to help them hunt and kill the senior members of the Guild of the True. That was the only sensible thing to do …
I turned to face them. Blake was staring right at me. Boxer stood by the wall, arms folded and grinning. Pearson watched me and nodded, as if to say: ‘You’re doing the right thing by joining us’.
‘Help us to rid the world of this terror,’ Blake continued. ‘Do you feel no insult that they have manipulated you?’
‘I am very insulted,’ I replied. ‘I would like nothing more than to kill Jim Sterling right now. But before I make my decision, I have just one question.’
‘Ask your one question,’ Blake replied.
‘It’s one that I want to put to Boxer.’
‘Go ahead,’ the giant killer smirked. ‘Ask away.’
‘What did you say to Hunter before you killed him?’
‘Hmm?’
‘The exact words. What were the exact words you said to him before you broke his neck?’
‘Ain’t technology a bitch …’
‘Yes,’ I smiled. ‘It certainly is.’
I drew Vanev’s gun from my jacket. I had stuffed it into the pocket when I’d gotten to the kinetibike back in Prestwich. It had been in the sidebag since I went to the Wrights’ house. I’d almost been caught with it when I entered the Imperium and the siren sounded. Boxer, the fool, had allowed me to smuggle it inside by telling the guards that it had been his gun that had set off the alarm. I had intended to use it against Boxer when he caught up with me in Prestwich, after he’d killed Hunter. Then he offered to take me to Blake. It was an opportunity that I could not pass up. The gun was designed to fire rounds that could break through psychokinetic energy – the same energy that made Boxer indestructible.
‘Technology is a bitch,’ I continued.
I lifted the weapon and pointed it directly at him. I waited just long enough to see the smile disappear from his face before I pulled the trigger. Three bullets left the gun and burrowed into Boxer’s chest. Blood exploded into the air as he tumbled back and crashed against the wall.
‘Technology like this gun that Golding’s scientists invented is a real bitch for people like us,’ I said.
I fired the last round through Pearson’s forehead. By the time she hit the ground the guards had burst through the door and were lifting their guns. I raised my uninjured arm and a wave of energy blasted them back into the corridor. Some died from the blast, others simply got to their feet and fled.
‘It would be prudent to run,’ I told the nurse sitting by the computer. ‘Don’t stop until you’re home. Forget everything you heard here. Forget what you saw. Forget there are gifted people. Go.’
She nervously pushed back her chair from the computer then took a few hesitant steps across the room. She was running by the time she passed the guards’ bodies.
I took my time unplugging the machines that were keeping Blake alive. I made sure the computer was the first to be shut down – I was sick of listening to his crap. His eyes darted left and right as I moved around the bed, unplugging wires and tubes. There was nothing he could do. I guessed he was far too frail to use his gifts and I was safe enough to take my time.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Blake. I will have to reject your offer. I may be a fool who believes lies too easily, but I would never be foolish enough to believe in your vision of the world. I’m a Bentley. We’re ordinary, decent people, the Bentleys. We don’t like cruel and greedy people like you. That’s why I think it would be better if you were to die now. I’m not going to kill you. I’m simply going to allow nature to take its course with you. Let’s not depend on technology. As you have just seen, it can certainly come back to bite you in the arse when you least expect it. The time to pay for your many sins has arrived. I’m going to wrestle the Guild from the liars. I’m going to kill Jim Sterling myself and put an end to all this. It’s time a new generation took charge, one that is not tainted by the actions of the one that preceded it. I’m going to end this tonight.’
I turned out the lights before I left the room, leaving Blake to twitch and squirm in the darkness, alone and helpless as death overcame him.
I made my way along the corridor to the elevator, only to find that it had been disabled. Obviously the guards didn’t want me following them as they made their escape. I turned back and staggered towards the opposite end of the corridor, where the stairwell was. I never made it. The pain of my injuries became too great and I stopped. I leaned against the wall and tried desperately to keep the wounds shut. I wasn’t doing a good job; there was blood trickling down my body and tapping the floor. I couldn’t go any further. I would not face down Sterling, after all. At least I had dealt with Blake, Pearson and Boxer. The shadow Guild, as Portman called it, was as good as finished. Blake had been the driving force behind it. His twisted vision of how the world should be was what glued it all together. That and the money he offered to his many minions.
Blake had succeeded in one of his boasts: Killing the innocence in me. I had a newfound cynicism about the world and all in it. No one was to be taken at face value. Everyone had secrets. Everyone had an agenda of their own.
I slid down the wall and sat, sucking in deep breaths. I was dying. My journey, that had started when I left my home for London two years before, was now at an end. I wasn’t proud of a lot of the things I’d done. I hated that I ever got involved with other gifted people. It had all been for nothing because it was all lies. Williams had lied to me. Romand had lied to me. Hunter had lied to me. Even Cathy had been lying to me. She had run away and told me she was going to see her mother, when she had actually travelled back to England, for what reason I would never know. I hated them all.
I should have stayed at home with the people who genuinely cared about me. My dad. Gemma. They didn’t have feelings for me because I was gifted. They cared about me for who I was. Only now, in my darkest hour, did I see the true value of genuine love.
Boxer said that releasing my gift and bleeding to death would be an honourable way to bow out. I could now see his point. I had stood up to evil. I remained true to myself and to what I felt was right. I’d done the best I could. There was no shame in allowing it to end. I let out a deep breath, released my gift, the wounds opened and I became still. I probably would have died soon after if they hadn’t barged onto the corridor from the stairwell.
I turned and watched them approach. The woman was short, had long curly blonde hair and a stern face. The man was stocky and tall, rugged looking and had serious eyes. The senior agents of the Guild all looked like this. Every last one of them had that unmistakable battle hardened appearance. They rushed along the corridor then slowed as they neared me, wary of me for some reason.
‘Let me guess,’ I said, managing a chuckle to myself, ‘Armitage and Burrows?’
‘We got here as soon as we could,’ Armitage told me. ‘We are friends of Hunter. Where is he?’
‘He’s lying dead in John Portman’s house in Prestwich.’
They didn’t look as upset as friends should be on hearing such tragic news. Perhaps they were too far gone into the world of death and deception to feel properly for humans – even those who are supposed to be friends.
‘Who killed him?’ Burrows asked.
‘Boxer,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry, you won’t need to avenge your friend. I already did it for you.’
‘And Blake?’
‘I’d say he’s dead by now. I’ve done all your dirty work for you.’
‘Did Blake tell you some secret about the Guild?’ Armitage asked as she cautiously stepped towards me. ‘Marie Canavan said that Hunter had mentioned some secret that Blake was going to tell us. What was it?’
I pressed the palms of my hands on the cold floor an
d pushed myself back up the wall, just about managing to stand so I could face them properly. I had no idea if they were friend or foe. If they were enemies, though, I was not going to die sitting on my arse.
‘Tell us if you know, Ross,’ Burrows pleaded. ‘We must protect the Guild at all costs. If there is some evil within it, we must know so that we can weed it out and destroy it once and for all.’
‘We are loyal to no one but the ethics of the Guild,’ Armitage assured me.
‘The essence of the Guild is built on lies,’ I replied. ‘Blake did reveal the secret to me. Jim Sterling is not who he claims to be.’
‘Go on.’
‘He is the Kematian.’ I forced myself off the wall and stepped towards them. ‘But you already knew that, didn’t you? You’re Elizabeth Armitage, Sterling’s right hand.’
‘We don’t have time for this,’ she said to Burrows. ‘Put him down now. Let’s finish it.’
My precognitive gift was not warning of danger. Then I tried to use my psychokinetic powers to protect myself and could not. I was totally powerless. My gifts were gone. I was utterly defenceless.
‘Burrows,’ Armitage demanded. ‘Take him down now! Finish this!’
Burrows moved his arms towards me and I felt a terrible impact. It was like my body was being ground into dust. I fell back and banged my head off the floor. The wounds on my body burst open and blood spurted over my clothes. I couldn’t catch my breath. My heart was pounding harder than ever just to keep me conscious. Then the sense of death fell over me. Blackness was cast over my eyes and an empty sensation followed it. This was what it felt like to die.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Facing Death
I opened my eyes to find myself lying awkwardly on a leather couch. My shoulder and stomach were still aching and my right arm remained numb. I was wearing a clean shirt that was a few sizes too big for me and tracksuit pants that were intended for a man much taller than I was. I carefully pulled the shirt open to find my injuries had been treated; black stitches had been freshly knitted into my skin. I was alive, although I still had no sense of my gifts. It was as if they had been stolen away from me. I hadn’t felt this powerless since I was a child – long before the gifts had revealed themselves.
I pushed myself up on my left elbow and examined my surroundings. It was a cavernous space – it was too big to be described as a room, too small to be considered a hall. The ceiling was low, not much higher than six feet, and arced downward as it met the walls. On the opposite side of the glossy wooden floor were extensive book shelves – floor to ceiling and crammed with books numbering in their thousands. To my left the wall showed many portrait paintings of people I didn’t recognise, and a few exotic landscapes depicted in vibrant oils. The only space that didn’t have a painting was filled with the only door. To my right was a large and ornate walnut desk that had stacks of paper on it. There was one chair in front of it, and another, grander one one the other side. On the wall behind the desk was a fine mosaic of the Guild’s logo – the wolf head surrounded by the Latin initials of each of the true gifts. I noticed instantly that this logo had sixteen sets of initials instead of the fifteen that usually adorned the crest. ‘SM’ I recognised as the fabled Seductor Mortis gift. I knew I was in the lair of the Kematian. I still remembered Romand’s exact words when he first told me of the dreaded sixteenth gift: ‘The power to bring death to the living and life to those who have passed.’
I was contemplating climbing off the couch and making a dash for the door when I heard footsteps. There was someone moving in the shadows of the far corner by the book shelves.
‘Show yourself!’ I demanded as I straightened up. ‘Face me, you damned coward!’
Sterling emerged slowly from the shadow, one hand holding a walking cane, the other holding a book. He casually made his way towards his desk then placed the book down and looked at me. He was dressed in black – appropriately – and looked a good deal older than he had when I last saw him the previous winter.
‘I wasn’t hiding,’ he said. ‘I have no reason to hide in my own home.’
‘That’s what you’ve been doing for years. You’ve been hiding behind a cloak of lies. You’re a monster.’
‘A monster who patches you up and saves your life? Allows you to sleep safely on my couch for two days without harming you?’
‘I know who and what you are.’
‘Blake’s great secret, eh. The fool. He thought he could turn my own people against me and reinstate himself so he could wreak havoc once more. Thank you for killing him for me, Ross. He was proving to be quite the thorn in the side. And as for who and what I am,’ he stepped towards me and dramatically raised his arms above his head. ‘I am Jim Sterling. I am James Barkley. I am the Kematian. I am all three rolled into one. They are me, the man who stands before you now.’
‘You’re a lunatic who needs to be stopped.’
‘Am I indeed? And how do you know of my true nature?’
‘Romand told me all about you.’
‘Oh, the same Marcus Romand who was one of my chief agents for many years? My trusted confidant? My good friend?’
‘So, he was another traitor. Another who protected you.’
‘He protected me as all my friends have. We have shared many friends, you and I. Peter Williams, Marcus, Hunter …’
‘You bastard. You somehow tricked them all into working for you. I know you did. You let Hunter die.’
‘Hunter isn’t dead.’
‘You’re a liar!’
I raised myself from the couch and moved at him, my hands as fists, ready to beat him to a pulp.
‘Sit down!’ he shouted at me. I was drawn back by an invisible force. I landed on the couch and my arms were pulled tight against my body, my feet rooted to the ground. ‘You would attack me? Do you have any idea what I am capable of?’
‘Murder. That’s what you’re capable of.’
‘Murder,’ he scoffed. ‘I am the Kematian. I am the shadow in the night. Allow me to show you what I am capable of.’ He paced to the centre of the floor and turned on his heel to face me. ‘You are a novice in every sense of the word when compared with me. Do you think you know of the true gifts? You know only what we’ve taught you, of what we allowed you to know.’
He bowed his head and lifted his arms, his hands twisting slowly, fingers livid like claws. ‘Gift one: The prophet.’ After a few seconds there were wisps of white mist falling over his shoulders and dancing through the air between us, slowly and gracefully mingling together to form one shape that became almost human. The mist evaporated to leave a translucent figure standing before me, staring and smiling fondly. It was me. I was much older, perhaps fifty years of age, carrying a few too many pounds around the midriff and sporting a goatee. ‘Prophecy is not simply seeing future events,’ Sterling told me. ‘It is a transmitter of what may come. Images travel back in time to rest within my mind. But those, like me, who have mastered the gift can pull a part of a person from the future or the past into the present.’
Sterling clapped his hands and the glowing figure of my future self collapsed into a cloud of white smoke that was gone within seconds. Sterling looked at me for a brief moment, a cold stare that made my heart sink and the hairs stand on end. He turned to his desk and once more raised his hands.
‘Gift two: The Psychokinetic.’ His fingers moved fluidly, like typing in slow motion, and suddenly the legion of tiles that made up the Guild mosaic were torn from the wall and moved around Sterling like a swarm of multi-coloured wasps. He walked towards me again and was smiling proudly as our eyes met. The swarm moved away from him and flew around the walls at great speed before they slowed, floating rather peacefully through the air and forming a large sphere behind him. Sterling shut his eyes and his body became strained. The tiles fluttered furiously at his back, gradually reforming into the Guild crest without him even looking. Within a moment the mosaic was perfectly replicated and rotated in mid-air. I could not imagine a
more impressive display of psychokinesis. My own ability was clumsy and obvious in comparison to his. The mosaic floated across the room and attached itself to the wall, as if it had never been disturbed.
‘Gift three: The Pyrokinetic.’ Sterling revealed a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and allowed it to move from his hand and sail above his head. He clicked his fingers and it was set alight. The flames grew and fanned out across the ceiling then dripped to the floor and the fire raged there before he moved hands in a languid gesture. The flames spilled across the floor and then rolled into a ball that spun right past my feet. As it neared the door, the ball was transformed into the shape of a cat. The flames perfectly mimicked the feline form as it hopped around the room, sometimes racing across the floor, at times dancing along the book shelves. Sterling threw his hands down and the fiery cat disappeared into a puff of smoke.
‘Gift four: The Metallisir.’ This time he revealed a silver coin from his trouser pocket, balancing it on his thumb before flipping it into the air. As it came back down, the coin was enlarged into a thin silver plate that came towards me very slowly then stopped right in front of my face. It was a perfect circle. The surface highly polished enough that I could clearly see my reflection in it. This was a most impressive trick, but he wasn’t finished. A lump formed in the centre of the plate and grew into the shape of a face. My face. Perfectly rendered in the silver. It even managed to mimic the subtle movements of my eyes and forehead. The plate then disintegrated and dripped all over the floor before moving together like mercury and forming the original coin.
‘Gift five: The Ink-Seer.’ Sterling lifted his right hand and a book came flying off the shelf behind him. It moved rapidly through the air and froze right in front of my face. I just had time to read the cover of the thin and tattered book before the pages parted: King Henry VI by William Shakespeare. The pages flicked over and over as Sterling approached me. He placed his index finger on the cover, shut his eyes and read: