by Bali Rai
Stone explained his thoughts quickly, outlining every part of his plan. His master waited a few moments before replying.
‘The success of your plot rests on a few variables,’ he said. ‘I don’t like variables. They are, by their nature, unstable.’
‘I agree, sir, but I’ll deal with any sudden deviations. The main points should work, however. Can I progress?’
‘Absolutely,’ said the controller. ‘Let me make a few calls and sort out the little difficulty with Valefor. In the morning you may begin.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘And where is your Mayor?’
‘With some whore,’ revealed Stone. ‘It’s his default reaction to bad news.’
‘Nero fiddled . . .’ said the caller gleefully.
‘Sir?’
‘Never mind, Stone. I look forward to our next chat. Keep the phone with you from now on – I may call at any time. Good evening.’
20
THE MAYOR STUDIED himself in the mirror, holding his stomach in and his shoulders back. The years hadn’t been too unkind, he thought to himself. Yes, lack of exercise had made him flabby and withered his arm muscles, but on the whole he was in good shape. Good enough to entice his fair share of young women. The latest, Bella, was seventeen and waiting in his bed. Ordinarily, she worked as a maid, but the promise of an extra two months’ salary had encouraged her to take up new duties. Not that he needed to pay – he was the Mayor, after all. It didn’t hurt to spread some wealth around, though.
Several stray hairs poked from his nostrils, mostly grey. He rummaged through the bathroom cabinet, found his scissors and clipped them away. Next came his ear lobes and eyebrows. Finally he lathered himself in fine cologne, one he’d had delivered from the Southern Citadel. One day, he would be rewarded for his hard work and retire amongst the other Wanted, away from the hell of Fire City. He fancied a place by the sea, perhaps close to the city that, during his youth, had been known as Brighton. It was a smaller citadel but with clean, fresh air – ideal after years spent amongst the Unwanted, suffering their stench. He’d always been loyal to his masters and had often gone beyond the realms of duty. He would suggest retirement – it was the least he deserved.
His thoughts turned to Martha, his wayward and sullen stepdaughter. He’d spent years looking after the girl, keeping her on out of some pitiful sense of duty when his ex-wife had died. Perhaps Martha had also been his way of keeping hold of the Maria he’d fallen in love with – the simple, beautiful woman he’d first met. It was the only way to explain his continued tolerance of the girl. Yet in return for his kindness, Martha gave him abuse, sarcasm and very little else.
He had rescued her mother from desperate poverty, yet the same woman had betrayed him, cuckolded him. How striking Maria had been, with her sparkling grey eyes and burnished skin and a fire in her heart. He’d fallen for her instantly, unconcerned that she came with a child. Having Maria by his side was all that mattered. Only she hadn’t felt the same – for Maria, the Mayor had been nothing more than an insurance policy. He’d been a convenient sap, a fool willing to provide for her, in exchange for sex. Soon that dried up too and she’d taken to drink, spending her time with lowlifes and traitors. In the end, her death had been unavoidable, a simple trade-off for continued power. Maybe he would have given up everything if she’d loved him – it was hard to know – but he had loved her, more than any woman he’d ever met. Such a shame then that she’d betrayed him . . .
He put any thoughts of his ex-wife away, splashed a little more cologne round his chops and made his way into the bedroom. The girl, Bella, lay on her side, facing away, towards the French doors. Her skin was pale, her bony hips visible. He wondered whether she’d be grateful, this one. Whether she’d be worth keeping and fattening up. The thought of an heir and a woman to see out his days with grew more appealing each time. Someone young and vibrant, malleable even.
‘Would you like some wine?’ he asked her, removing his silk robe and getting into bed.
Bella said nothing and kept her back to him. He reached out a hand and touched her bare shoulder. Her skin was burning up.
‘Shall I open the doors, my dear?’ he asked, running his fingers down her back. ‘You’re awfully warm.’ He heard her sob a little. ‘Don’t cry, my dear,’ he said in a soothing tone. ‘I’m not a monster. I’ll be kind.’
Bella stirred a little then, whispering to him. ‘I’ve never done this before,’ she said, her voice sending ripples of excitement coursing through him. ‘Will you close your eyes?’
The Mayor smiled and did as she asked. Her weight shifted as she turned and straddled him, an intense, earthy aroma filling his senses. He made to look at her but she stopped him.
‘Not yet,’ she purred into his left ear, her breasts brushing against him, her breath as hot as lava.
‘Yes . . .’ he murmured, feeling utterly at ease. ‘You’re a very good girl . . .’
He felt her sit back and run her fingers through the hairs on his chest. Her hands felt calloused, her nails a touch too long – minor details that he would fix when he made her his favourite. He’d make her grow her hair too, make her eat a little more to fill out those sunken cheeks and put meat on her bones. Make her more like Maria . . .
‘You can look now,’ she told him, leaning in once more, her mouth barely an inch from his, her weight increasing as she pressed herself into him.
The Mayor waited a moment, wanting to prolong the feeling. She was surely going to become his most wanted. Such a delicate face, such a pretty smile, such an uncanny resemblance to . . . He reached out to caress her hair and something felt wrong. Something felt awfully, dreadfully wrong. He opened his eyes and saw mauve feline irises staring back.
‘Still as pretty?’ he heard Valefor ask playfully.
The Mayor’s heart felt as though it was being crushed in a vice. He screamed, trying in vain to get away. Valefor chortled in amusement.
‘I hope you weren’t fond of that one,’ he said. ‘It’s just that once I consume them, most humans are never the same again.’
The Mayor tried to speak but his chest was being compacted and his lungs were aflame with pain. Valefor sensed this and sprang away suddenly, the movement so fast it was almost imperceptible. The Mayor gasped and drew down as much air as he could manage, spluttering. He scrambled away, falling to the floor and crawling back towards the bathroom, away from the demon. Valefor stalked him, his expression sardonic.
‘Your wretchedness amuses me, Mayor. Wriggle some more.’
The Mayor turned onto his back, used his hands to cover his genitals and begged for mercy.
‘If I wanted you dead,’ Valefor told him, ‘you would be.’
‘I d-d-don’t understand,’ the human stuttered. ‘What have I done to displease you, lord?’
Valefor saw a glass of red wine on a walnut bedside table. He picked it up, sniffing at the contents. ‘This wine you drink – what is the attraction?’
‘I-I . . .’
‘Mind if I try some?’ The Mayor watched Valefor down the glass in one, his grey-green wings outstretched, twitching. ‘Terrible,’ the demon said, his mule-like jaw convulsing. ‘Now tell me about the stranger.’
‘The stranger?’ the Mayor asked him.
‘The one I asked you to find. The one who nearly killed Mias,’ replied Valefor in a menacing tone. ‘Did we not speak of this already?’
‘I’ve heard nothing since then,’ the Mayor managed to say. ‘My men have been asking around.’
Valefor growled and pounced on the Mayor once more, pinning him to the floor. Thick, warm drool hung from his mouth. ‘You should know by now,’ he spat.
‘I – I’ve been b-busy . . .’ whined the Mayor.
‘I want him found!’
The Mayor nodded.
‘You understand, then?’
‘Yes, my lord – please – you’re hurting me!’
Valefor relented and stood up, turning his back on the human.
He eyed the furniture in the room, the king-sized bed and dark-wood armoire.
‘Your position has given you many comforts,’ he told the Mayor. ‘I hope you haven’t forgotten your place.’
The Mayor stood up gingerly and put on his robe. His chest hurt and his legs wobbled. ‘Never, my lord,’ he replied.
‘Something is amiss in the city,’ Valefor explained. ‘No ordinary human could have hurt Mias – he is of pure breeding, only a little less powerful than I. It bothers me that a creature as venerable as he should suffer. I want this stranger.’
‘And you shall have him,’ replied the Mayor. ‘Just give me a few more days.’
Valefor twisted his neck from side to side. ‘Meanwhile, I will have my revenge,’ said the demon lord. ‘Tonight the factories can remain empty. Any human found on the streets will die. As payment for the injuries inflicted upon Mias.’
‘But what of the council, my lord?’ asked the Mayor, trembling.
‘YOU DARE TO SPEAK TO ME OF THE COUNCIL?’ Valefor bellowed.
The Mayor cowered, begging forgiveness. ‘I did not mean to—’
‘ENOUGH!’ demanded the demon lord. ‘I want this stranger found and the Resistance crushed. Anything less and I will carve out your heart and feed it to you.’
‘As you wish, master,’ the Mayor whimpered.
‘I have been summoned to the Southern Citadel,’ Valefor added. ‘I shall return after the Hunt tomorrow. I expect news.’
‘I understand.’
‘I hope so.’
The Mayor shuddered as he watched Valefor open the French doors and fly off into the night, his giant wings silhouetted against a teal sky. He stumbled into the bathroom, knelt before the toilet bowl and vomited until his stomach burned.
21
ARON SAT WITH Prior, his head still spinning with rage. They were in the central chamber of the Haven – a large rectangular basement with smaller rooms and corridors round each side. The older man took occasional sips from a flask, wincing each time he swallowed. Aron realized that Prior was growing weaker, his breathing more coarse. The veins in his arms and neck had grown black, his feet were swollen and what hair he had left hung limp and greasy. These were telltale signs of disease and malnutrition that afflicted many of Fire City’s residents, and Aron knew it wouldn’t be long before Prior passed on.
‘Did you know . . .’ said Prior, ‘that I’ve not left this city since the end of the War?’
Aron shrugged. Around them the people lucky enough to have made it into the Haven tried to rest. Some were napping on the cold stone floor; others sat huddled in groups, too worried to sleep. No one knew what the morning would bring.
‘I’ve never left it,’ Aron replied. ‘How sad is that?’
Prior took another swig, swallowed and belched. ‘What’s stopping you?’ he eventually asked.
‘Let’s see,’ said Aron. ‘Demons, cannibals, dirty collaborating humans in soldier-boy outfits, wild animals, more demons . . .’
‘You know, son, I’m not too ill to give you a slapping,’ joked Prior, misjudging Aron’s mood completely.
‘Go ahead, old man,’ Aron sneered. ‘You’ll have a heart attack before you reach me. I’ll be fighting demons long after you’ve kicked the bucket.’
Prior looked down at his feet. His heart ached to show the boy he was wrong. His head knew that Aron was right. The fight outside the hotel bar had nearly done for him. Every bone in his body ached, his muscles felt knotted and his lungs fought for every breath. Physically he was close to the end but he still had his wits.
‘Aye, I’ll be gone soon,’ he replied softly. ‘People I know will miss me, some will even cry. Tell me, lad – who will mourn for you when the time comes?’
Aron looked startled. The sneer faded, the little boy appeared. ‘I’ve got friends,’ he said quickly. ‘People who love me.’
Prior smiled but with sadness rather than glee. ‘People who’ll stop loving you if you carry on,’ he told him.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Aron.
‘You upset people, lad. You act like you’re untouchable, you hurt people with your words.’
Aron shook his head. ‘What do you know?’ he asked, his scorn returning.
‘Aron – just listen to yourself!’ Prior insisted. ‘You don’t think about what you say.’
‘What – and you do?’
Prior nodded. ‘Yes, I do,’ he replied. ‘And when I get angry, it’s because I’ve earned the right.’
‘Earned it?’ snapped Aron. ‘What sort of bullshit is that?’
Prior saw that he wasn’t getting through. He decided to be brutal, hoping that the boy would see sense. ‘Do you know what people say about you?’ he asked.
Aron shook his head. ‘I don’t care either,’ he added.
‘They call you names,’ continued Prior. ‘They say that you’re sullen. People don’t like you.’
‘Rubbish!’
‘And they question your heart, son . . .’
Aron leaped from his chair and sent the old man sprawling. A group of women, two with children, gasped. A baby began to wail. Aron stood over them all, raging.
‘I’m not your son, you old bastard!’ he screamed. ‘You ever question my heart again, I’ll kill you!’
Prior didn’t reply. Instead, he sat where he’d landed and shook his head. One of the women, dark-skinned with a broad nose and plaited hair, stood and faced Aron.
‘You have no shame?’ she chided. ‘Throwing your weight around. Push me!’
Aron glared at the woman but only for a moment. He ended up staring into space.
‘Back off!’ she shouted. ‘Back off or God help me I’ll beat that look off your face, boy!’
Prior told her to leave Aron alone. ‘He’s not worth the trouble, Diane.’
Diane nodded. ‘He should be ashamed!’ she replied. ‘Lord knows how many people have died tonight and he’s here throwing old men around? You want to fight, you little rat, go outside and fight!’
She cursed some more, daring Aron to react, as more people started to gather. Faith, who’d been tending to an expectant mother, appeared and helped Prior to his feet. He thanked her and found a crate to sit on. His breathing had grown worse.
‘You need to get some rest, Prior,’ warned Faith.
‘I’ll happily lie with you,’ he joked, trying to lighten the mood and assuage the guilt he was feeling. He had pushed the boy too far.
‘In your dreams,’ said Faith, but without her usual sass. She took Aron by the arm and pulled him away.
‘Gerroff!’ he complained, but she held on as he swung his arm.
‘You need to cool off,’ she warned. ‘Either that or deal with Mace – understand?’
Mention of the giant calmed Aron almost immediately and he stopped struggling. Faith walked him out of the main chamber and down a dimly lit corridor, past several side rooms.
‘Oscar and Raj need to be relieved,’ she told him. ‘And you need time to think.’
Aron shook his head. ‘Nothing to think about,’ he replied. ‘I didn’t do anything. Prior called me a coward.’
‘So to show you’re not a coward, you pushed a dying old man around? If the cap fits . . .’
‘I’m not what he says!’ protested Aron.
‘OK, OK . . .’ said Faith, trying to calm him again. ‘You just need to cool off, Aron. We’re all tired and sometimes things get to us. It’ll be fine in the morning, trust me.’
As they passed an open door, Aron glanced in and saw Martha leaning across a makeshift bunk on which a man was lying. His heart sank. Was she kissing someone? She pulled back and he saw Jonah. Their eyes met and Jonah smiled. Aron felt his stomach turn and ran for the exit hatch.
‘Aron?’
When he failed to reply, Faith sighed and turned back. Round the corner, by a sick bay, she bumped into Mace. His expression was dark with rage.
‘Where is he?’ Mace demanded.
‘Leave it,’ said F
aith. ‘I’ve sent him to relieve Oscar and Raj.’
‘On his own?’
Faith shook her head. ‘No – I was going to ask Tyrell to join him.’
‘Tyrell’s done enough for today,’ Mace told her. ‘I’ll get someone else to go up.’
‘I don’t know what gets into him,’ she admitted. ‘These last few months he’s been unbearable.’
‘He’s obsessed with Martha,’ revealed the giant.
‘Tell me something new,’ said Faith, running a hand through her blonde hair. The skin around her blue eyes was dark and creased. Mace felt the urge to pick her up and take her to bed, and not just because she was so lovely.
‘He follows her around,’ Mace continued. ‘She’s had to warn him off. He tried to kiss her or something the other night.’
‘That explains a lot,’ said Faith. ‘But it’s his recklessness that’s going to get him killed.’
‘I know,’ Mace admitted. ‘Trouble is, he’ll take some of the others with him.’
‘They say his father was a killer.’
Mace shook his head. ‘He went insane, Faith,’ he explained. ‘Happened to a lot of people after the War. He flipped and killed some people before the Mayor caught him. And then his mother . . .’
‘Waking up in Hell will do that,’ Faith suggested. ‘Drive you crazy, I mean.’
‘It happened to many, remember?’ Mace reminded her. ‘The War turned us all into animals. In the end.’
‘Sometimes I forget what it was like,’ said Faith. ‘You know – before the demons came.’
‘You and me both.’
‘I dream about it sometimes – the world I was born into. Feels like it only ever existed in my head, y’know?’
‘Yeah,’ replied Mace, burping.
Faith asked if he’d been drinking.
‘What else is there to do?’ he replied. ‘You look like you could use some.’
‘I’ve got injured people to tend to and some poor scared girl who couldn’t keep her knees shut eight months ago . . .’