by Edward Cox
Marney’s anger lessened immediately. ‘When?’
Denton chuckled softly and crushed his hat between his hands. ‘Such a long time ago now,’ he said. ‘Sophia hadn’t long been Resident. Gene was a painfully young man – as young as you, if I recall.’ He gave Marney a wink. ‘And I was in the prime of my life. Two days away from my twenty-fifth birthday.’ His looked rueful and his eyes became distant. ‘Some things you tend to remember with clarity and detail.’
Marney stared at her mentor as silence followed. The very idea of this sweet, old man being shot suddenly disturbed her greatly.
‘What happened?’ she whispered.
‘Well …’ Denton sucked air over his teeth. ‘Gene and I were on the trail of an Aelfirian artefact. It had been stolen from Hammer Light of Outside – a relatively small House with little to offer by way of trade, but a popular spiritual retreat among those searching for some inner peace and well-being.’ He chuckled again. ‘So much trouble that artefact caused us, and do you know what it was, Marney? A teapot. Pure and simple. It held no magic and posed no danger whatsoever – just a bloody old thing that did nothing but pour tea.’
Marney managed a smile.
‘Priceless to the Aelfir, of course,’ Denton continued. ‘It once belonged to some religious teacher or philosopher – I don’t remember which. Quite ancient.
‘Anyway, there was another agent helping Gene and I, a changeling – a rare sort of magicker – by the name of Thomma. She was a good agent. Very headstrong, as changelings tend to be, and she never shied from a fight. A little like Gideon, you might say.’
‘And Samuel,’ Marney added.
‘Yes. Yes, I suppose you’re right.’ Denton was quiet for a moment. ‘We tracked the teapot to the black market trader who had bought it from some treasure hunters. Thomma was the older agent, and that put her in charge as far as she was concerned. Gene and I didn’t argue with her.’ He eyes glazed. ‘Perhaps we should have …’
He shook himself. ‘Needless to say, Thomma decided a full assault was required. She didn’t even stop to think about the company she was keeping. Gene was never the warrior type, and I’m not far behind him. The black market trader had more men with him than any of us anticipated. I tried to defuse the situation, but back then my empathic skills were not as accomplished as they are today. There were simply too many of them. Thomma rushed in, nonetheless. She killed ruthlessly.’
Marney felt a wave of regret and anger coming from Denton, and she realised that he wanted her to know how he truly felt, to share a moment in his life that he had blocked for many years.
‘The truth is, Marney, there were so many guns in the room I have no idea who actually shot me. But I can tell you it was someone with a very powerful weapon, something custom made, Aelfirian probably.’ He patted his leg. ‘The bullet lodged in my thigh muscle. I was lucky, you see. Thomma saved my life. Inadvertently.’
He sat forwards on the chair and twisted his hat tightly in his hands. ‘The bullet passed straight through her on the way to my leg, Marney. It ripped away most of her body in the process. Gene and I did manage to get out of there, but … we had to leave Thomma behind. She was a good agent.’
Marney licked her lips. Just how many agents of the Relic Guild had the old empath outlived? ‘I’m so sorry, Denton.’
‘Oh, don’t be,’ Denton replied. ‘I’m certain that Thomma’s death would have been harder to get over than my leg injury, but I’m an empath. I never allowed myself to find out.’
He smiled. ‘You were very lucky to have Angel with you today, Marney – that your wound was healed so quickly. Nonetheless, being shot is a traumatic experience. Anger is an understandable response, but so strong in its negativity. Even an empath can find it difficult to block. Am I right?’
Even as he said it, Marney realised that she couldn’t stop feeling angry. No matter what she tried, the magic in her veins just couldn’t block the emotion. It was as if she had lost that ability.
‘We didn’t have a healer back then,’ Denton added. ‘I got to spend a few weeks in a hospital bed to recuperate and come to terms with the trauma. The truth is, Marney, in an instance like this, I don’t think it is healthy to block the anger. It’s important to deal with it … and to let it go.’
Fresh tears came to Marney’s eyes. ‘I’m an empath,’ she said. ‘Angel expected me to deal with the pain. She thought I could block it. I think … I think she thought I’d be better trained by now. She’s right, Denton. I should be. I could’ve got us both shot.’
‘Utter nonsense,’ Denton said softly.
It was as if the old empath had been waiting for Marney to show him a crack in her emotive barrier. And now that she had, his empathy wormed its way in and filled the gaps with reassurance, allowing her both to feel her anger and fright, and to recognise it as something that would heal and pass in time.
You are not to blame for what happened, his voice soothed her mind. Nor is Angel or Gideon. Fabian Moor is the only culprit, and we’ll make him take responsibility for that in time.
Marney knew it was true. She wiped tears from her cheeks and nodded.
Denton beamed at her.
At that moment, the outline of the door appeared on the wall. When it swung inwards, Van Bam stepped into the training room, and pursed his lips at the mannequin that was now ripped to shreds.
‘Busy?’ he asked Marney.
Just to see the concern on his face made Marney’s heart skip, and her emotional control threatened to shatter entirely. She checked an impulse to run into his arms, to tell him everything that had occurred that morning, and to have him soothe her with kisses. But Denton broke the moment.
‘Aren’t you supposed to be helping Hamir?’ he asked.
‘There has been a change of plan,’ Van Bam replied.
Denton shared a quick look with Marney; they had both felt the anxiety radiating from the illusionist.
‘Gideon has concluded his meeting with Ambassador Ebril,’ Van Bam continued. ‘He would like to see you, Denton. Alone.’
‘Well then …’ With a groan, Denton rose from the armchair. ‘We all know how the Resident hates to be kept waiting. I’ll see you later,’ he said to Marney and, with a nod to Van Bam, left the training room.
Once they were alone, Marney and Van Bam stared at each other for a long moment.
‘Angel tells me you have had a tough day,’ he said softly. ‘Are you all right?’
‘No. No, not really, Van Bam.’
Marney ran to him then, and they embraced.
‘Remember I said that I have a surprise for you?’ he whispered into her ear. She held him tighter. ‘I think it is high time you see what it is.’
Drums thumped a heavy beat. Bass rumbled like thunder. Guitars thrashed gutturally. And a voice wailed a demand for abandon and intoxication from a lawless cluster of sweating, writhing bodies on the dance floor. In return, the revellers screamed obeisance to the band, and the tempo picked up pace.
The Lazy House was in full swing.
Sheltering from the flashing lights and frenzied dancers, Samuel sat alone in a deep alcove. He wore his Aelfirian hat, his face hidden by the shadows it cast. Not that he made an unusual sight; he was by no means the only patron of the nightclub who wished to retain anonymity. Weaponless, Samuel kept alert by focusing on the warm, soft pulses of his magic. His ears might have been filled with the drone of music and shouting; his nostrils might have been filled with the smell of sweat, alcohol and smoke; but his prescient awareness mapped out his surroundings with stark clarity. In the Lazy House, potential danger was everywhere.
Two men argued at the bar. A woman sat alone at the opposite end to them. She gazed over at Samuel. In an alcove to the right, a narcotics trade took place. On the dance floor, a woman slapped a man for making improper advances. The woman at the bar looked at Samuel again.
Another dancer, a man, tried to climb up on stage with the band, but two security guards pulled him down. He kicked and shouted as he was dragged to the exit. A fight broke out between the arguing men at the bar. Two more guards were quick to break it up. The woman’s gaze lingered on Samuel and she smiled at him. Money and merchandise changed hands in the narcotics deal. Someone spilled a drink. A whore led a man towards the door that led to the bedrooms upstairs. A light prism fizzed and died. The drummer broke a drumstick. A barman smashed a glass … The woman made her way over to the alcove.
‘I’ve been watching you,’ she said as she came to stand before Samuel. Her voice was raised against the music. ‘Would you like some company?’
She was young, attractive, and dressed in a gown of loose material that clung to the shape of her body. Her hair was curly and wild, and the glaze in her eyes suggested intoxication. She was probably an employee of the Lazy House.
‘No,’ Samuel said. ‘Earn your money somewhere else.’
The woman giggled into the back of her hand. ‘I’m not a whore,’ she said. ‘You just caught my eye, is all.’
‘I said no.’
Her expression was at once disappointed and playful. ‘Well, if you change your mind …’ She shrugged and sauntered away.
As she left, the tall and broad figure of Bryant appeared at the alcove’s entrance. He looked back after the woman, and then turned to Samuel.
‘She was nice,’ he said loudly. ‘Tell me you didn’t turn her down.’
‘We have a job to do,’ Samuel replied.
Bryant shook his head, bemused. He stepped into the alcove and pulled a curtain across the entrance. The enchanted material deadened the noise of the club, and his voice was easier to hear.
‘You know, there’re a lot of women in this place who just love a man of mystery, Samuel. You should look her up later – have some fun for a change.’
Samuel glowered at his fellow agent. ‘We’re in a whole world of trouble, and you want to talk about having fun?’
‘Not so much. I’m just saying you must be the most tightly wrapped man I’ve ever met.’ He sat beside his colleague and smiled. ‘Please take that bloody thing off your head. I don’t like talking to shadows.’
Samuel snorted and removed his Aelfirian hat, revealing his face. ‘Better?’
‘Not really,’ Bryant replied. ‘So, did you hear about Angel and Marney? They found Fabian Moor’s hiding place today.’
‘I know,’ Samuel said, rolling his hat up. ‘I went to check it out before I came here. The police are keeping an eye on the place, but Moor won’t go back there now.’
‘I think you’re right.’ Bryant looked reflective. ‘I have to tell you, Samuel, the underworld’s an unhappy playground at the moment. Lots of rumours flying around, lots of frightened criminals.’
‘The wild demon story?’ Samuel said. ‘I heard Gideon made an official statement.’
‘You didn’t read the newspaper?’
‘I didn’t see the point.’
‘Well, it’s partly to do with that, I suppose. But word of Carrick’s death is out – Llewellyn’s too – and, apparently, two crooked police officers met the wrong end of the Relic Guild last night. I assume they were the topic of your private meeting with Gideon?’
Samuel nodded.
Bryant rubbed the scar on his cheek. ‘Listen, the word is one of those officers was killed by poison. I took that to mean Gene was with you.’
Samuel’s expression soured. ‘I don’t know why Gideon does it to him, Bryant. Gene’s not cut out for that kind of work.’
‘No, he’s not.’ Bryant sighed. ‘And he hasn’t taken it well, Samuel. I went to see him today – you know, to make sure he was all right – but he wasn’t at home. His shop’s not open for business. I guess he doesn’t want to see anyone at the moment.’
‘Well,’ Samuel growled, ‘I’m sure it’ll amuse Gideon to drag him out of hiding soon enough.’ He swallowed his anger and smacked his rolled up hat against his hand. ‘So – what’s going on, Bryant? I was ordered to come and meet you, and here I am.’
Even though the enchanted material of the curtain ensured no one could hear them, Bryant lowered the volume of his voice.
‘There’s someone new on the scene,’ he said. ‘He’s wormed his way into the underworld and trod on more than a few toes. Could be Moor.’
‘Could be?’
‘It’s likely, but we can’t be sure. The trouble is, everyone’s afraid of this newcomer. No one wants to talk about him, no one wants to say his name. Me and Macy, we’ve only found one person willing to open up. Actually, he came to us. But even then, he was too scared to tell us much.’
‘Anyone I know?’
‘Oh yeah. He’s Gil, the owner of the Lazy House.’ Bryant nodded as if agreeing with Samuel’s look of surprise. ‘Not exactly the type to scare easy, is he?’
Samuel agreed. ‘So why did he come to you?’
‘Well, Gil knows me and Macy are well connected. He told us something bad was going on, something bad enough that he asked if we could set up a meeting with the Resident. Of course, we had to tell him we weren’t that well connected, but we could probably swing a meeting with someone from the Relic Guild. Which is where you come in.’
Bryant furrowed his brow. ‘I’ve got to warn you, Samuel, whatever Gil has to say to you, he isn’t happy about the Relic Guild being in his club. If anyone in the underworld found out, he could get his throat cut just for inviting you here.’
‘I’ll try to be careful,’ Samuel said.
‘Good. Let’s go and find out what he knows.’
Samuel unrolled his hat, put it back on his head, and followed Bryant out of the alcove. Music and voices hit him in a wash of noise. They skirted around the dance floor to the opposite side of the club. Samuel’s magic pulsed as a few patrons stared at him, undoubtedly wondering whose face lay within the shadows of his hat.
He was surprised by the identity of Bryant’s contact. He knew all about the owner of the Lazy House, though he had never had a reason to deal with him personally in the past. Gil was something of an oddity in the Labyrinth; he was an Aelf, but not a refugee of the war. He had left his House and come to live in Labrys Town many years ago – some claimed he had actually been exiled for past crimes. Whatever the truth, Gil had made a comfortable life for himself by becoming a successful, if not entirely legal, businessman. In the underworld, he was a well-respected figure, and most definitely not easily frightened.
When Bryant had led the way to another curtained alcove, he stopped with his hand on the curtain, and whispered into Samuel’s ear.
‘Remember – you’re the only Relic Guild agent here. And be careful with Gil. He’s jumpy.’
He pulled the curtain aside, and held it open for Samuel step into the alcove. The enchanted material fell back into place, leaving Bryant outside and reducing the noise of the nightclub to a muffled hum.
Gil sat to one side of a semi-circular bench seat upholstered with red leather. His hands were laid on the table that took up most of the alcove. Thick silver rings adorned each of his fingers and thumbs. His face carried a few scars, and his hair was shaved smooth to the scalp. He was a big Aelf, and looked as though he could handle himself, even though his years were advanced. He narrowed his large, Aelfirian eyes at Samuel’s hidden face, but did not speak.
Beside him, Macy sat with her arms folded across her chest. Playing her part as a member of the underworld well, she glared at the Relic Guild agent with as much loathing as she could muster.
‘Thank you for coming,’ Gil said in a low and heavy voice, full of suspicion.
Samuel gave a curt nod. ‘I hear you have something to tell me.’
Gil turned to Macy. ‘Wait outside,’ he told her.
‘Are you sure you want to be alone with him?’ Macy said, stil
l glaring at Samuel. ‘I’d never trust one of these bastards myself.’
‘Oh, I don’t trust him,’ Gil said with a chilly smile, ‘but I think I’ll be safe enough.’
With seeming reluctance, Macy got to her feet, moved around the table, paused to sneer closely at Samuel, and then stepped through the curtain to join her brother.
Alone with Samuel now, Gil’s demeanour relaxed slightly. ‘Why don’t you have a seat?’ he said. ‘We need to talk.’
Samuel sat on the other side of the bench seat, and looked across the table at the Aelf. ‘So talk.’
Gil raised an eyebrow. ‘I hear you boys and girls have been busy these past couple of days,’ he said. ‘You took care of Carrick, a couple of bent constables, and even squeezed in the time to raid the Anger Pitt. Pittman’s still spitting fire over that one, by the way. You killed his cousin.’
‘What’s your point?’
‘A lot of people are pissed off with the Relic Guild.’
Samuel shrugged. ‘That’s nothing new.’
Gil produced a newspaper and slapped it down on the table. ‘But now, to top it all off, I read we have a wild demon on the loose. Having trouble catching it?’
The Aelf’s self-satisfied expression irritated Samuel, but he knew Gil was testing the waters, seeing just how trustworthy this agent of the Relic Guild was.
He leant forward. ‘If you’re looking for assurance that you won’t be exposed as an informant, then I give it to you. You have … amnesty. For now.’
Gil barked a laugh. ‘I’m not your informant, and I never will be. But I supposed you could say my hand has been forced this time.’
‘Then stop dancing around and get to the point. What do you want to talk about?’
The Aelf averted his large eyes and licked his lips. ‘Wild demons are strange creatures, you know. Only the Timewatcher can say where they really come from. They’re beasts. They have no social skills. The only form of communication they understand is violence.’ He drummed his fingers upon the newspaper and his silver rings clinked together. ‘But this demon running around Labrys Town, he can communicate quite civilly. He’s very educated, in fact. Even given himself a name.’