The End of the Line

by The End of the Line (retail) (epub)

  When he turned back, Danny was hunched over the table, eyes down, hands clasped together.

  There were more prisoners standing in the inmate hall opposite, waiting for the second visitor session to begin.

  A couple of big guys were craning to catch Danny’s eye.

  But Danny just sat there, hunched.

  Chapter 8

  Skeebs

  The present – eighty-seven hours to destination

  Reeves gripped Skeebs’ wrist and a surge of adrenalin compressed the boy’s heart, ripping him from his memory. Gasping, Skeebs jerked his arm from reach. His boots, confined in his sleeping bag, caromed off the floor as he kicked himself away. Flattening back against the cold carriage wall so hard it hurt, breath ragged in his lungs, he hitched a leg ready to kick his attacker.

  But there was no one there.

  The prisoner was still unconscious, head hanging and knees swinging pendulum-like an inch off the ground. Those weird tattoos, weird like he’d never seen before, swam soundlessly across Reeves’ skin.

  Caleb was a slumbering hillock to his right, sleeping bag zipped up over his head. His coat was folded neatly beside him, book perched on top of it, his reading glasses doubling as a bookmark.

  The girl was snoring opposite him.

  It was raining out, the sound of water on metal like the static hiss of a dead channel. It made the small room smaller, the walls puckering against the cold outside.

  Shadows danced under the swinging lamps. It could have been broad daylight outside and they wouldn’t know it. Instead the shadows just swung with the rock of the train, tracing patterns back and forth under Skeebs’ eyelids when he closed them.

  Just a dream. For a moment, he’d been back in that office, the day Reeves had…

  His hands didn’t feel like his own as he grabbed for the energy drink at his side, took three, long pulls. Letting out a slow breath, he rubbed at his chest, his heart refusing to slow.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck, he had to stay awake. Reeves was waiting for him when he fell asleep. He remembered closing his eyes, thinking on that last meeting with Danny in the prison, then… idiot.

  He could still feel those fingers closed around his wrist no matter how hard he rubbed.

  Amanda was watching. Cocooned in her sleeping bag, she peered out from under her woollen hat, arms crossed. A cigarette hung in her mouth, wreathing the woman’s expression in smoke.

  She’d seen. She wasn’t going to say anything, but she’d seen.

  Skeebs screwed himself deeper into his sleeping bag, squirming with self-loathing.

  The others sleeping, it felt like they were alone together, the air thickening with so many things unsaid… and unfinished.

  This is your chance. He could feel Danny in his head, urging him on, his voice the same angry-desperate it had been in the visiting area. Do it now you fucking pussy. Tell them Reeves made you do it.

  He’d hesitated back at the van. A couple more seconds and he’d have done it if Caleb hadn’t stopped him. That’s what he told himself, anyway.

  He’d berated himself after. Filled the hire car shouting at himself all the way to the airstrip to pick up the girl. He’d banged the steering wheel, pulled at his hair until it hurt.

  The plane had been late arriving, giving him more time to squirm, promising himself he would do it next time. Be a cold fucking killer. No more hesitation, no more delays.

  It had been like the pen knife had been put there just for him. There’d been a tiny shop at the strip. Air fresheners and car cleaning kits behind a tiny shop counter. It had been hanging at eye level, glinting in its little plastic pack, fold-out blade on display, point curved like a pirate’s cutlass. He’d had to stop his hands shaking when he scattered his last roubles across the counter.

  He could feel it cold against his leg right now.

  Would she react in time if he went for her?

  He’d never killed someone before. People thought he had. Sometimes he even told people he had. But something, some scared little part of him, always held him back, twisting him up while his brother’s voice called him a coward. And the longer he waited, the harder it got.

  The van had been the second time he’d tried to get to her and failed. The first had been soon after his visit with Danny. He’d tried to goad Amanda into confronting him by recruiting her son and daughter, getting them to do a few errands for him, make a few fake IDs. They’d get caught and she’d come looking for him. And he’d have been ready. He’d have claimed self-defence.

  But it hadn’t worked. Something had happened. Amanda had found out but she’d never come to Skeebs looking for a fight and her kids had stopped answering his calls. That had been a fortnight he’d spent bricking it, waiting for her to come around, a knife and drink bottle of acid at the ready. It was later he found out she’d gone looking for AK instead. Another opportunity gone and he hadn’t had the nerve to track her down and confront her. Another opportunity to berate himself.

  Danny had continued to refuse to see him until the job was done. But that hadn’t stopped his big brother from sending him instructions, business advice on what he should be doing to get ahead.

  Worse had been the desperate texts, asking if he’d done it yet, pleading with him. They always made Skeebs wonder what had happened to make his brother lose his cool so badly. He’d lain awake thinking about it, his urge to help Danny fighting against his reluctance to commit violence.

  All he wanted now was to see his brother. After everything that had happened, that Reeves had done to him, he needed that comfort of family and Danny was all he had.

  But AK had wanted him on this trip, insisted Amanda track him down before she left. Skeebs had resisted. After he’d escaped the demon, tripping over bodies, his friends dead, Skeebs had holed up in a squat. He’d thought no one would find him, leaving him to sink into drink and hide from himself. But Amanda had still found him and, when he’d refused the job, Danny had called to tell him he was going. This was the ideal opportunity to get close to her. If Skeebs could kill her, the famous Abra-killer and get the banishing ritual done himself, they’d be made. The Indians would be begging to work with them. AK would be yesterday’s news.

  Skeebs had been unable to refuse.

  Now he was stuck. No excuses but to go through with it. Watching her strut around like she knew it all made it easier. But just when he thought he was ready he’d see this look in her eye and he’d know she was thinking of the daughter AK had hostage or the family Reeves had killed. She’d look so vulnerable, so fucking human, that his resolve withered to nothing leaving shame to flood the gap.

  But had she cared when she’d put Danny away? Why couldn’t he just man up and do it?

  ‘It won’t get any easier,’ said Amanda.

  Skeebs’ hand leapt away from the knife. He disguised the flinch by folding his arms. ‘What?’

  ‘Your secret. About how you escaped him.’ She nodded up to Reeves. ‘Whatever you’re not saying, it’s eating you. And shitty as it is, I’m the only one who’ll understand.’

  ‘Huh. You don’t know the first thing about me.’

  ‘I know you’re too afraid to sleep because he’s waiting for you when you do. And I know that whatever you did to survive him was so bad you can’t even tell your own brother.’

  ‘Yeah, well shows what you fucking know.’

  ‘All right, then. How’d he take it?’

  ‘Fuck do you care? You care so much you should have—’

  ‘I don’t. Your brother fucked up and I had to choose: him or the job.’

  ‘You never liked him.’

  ‘I liked him plenty when he stuck to the plan. But, in the end, it came down to his pride. He just couldn’t let the small stuff slide. Your brother landed himself in prison the moment he decided he couldn’t just walk away with the money.’

  Skeebs snorted. ‘What, like you’re so fucking different? Everyone knows the only reason you were after that lord was because you were making
like he was your dad. Getting back at your old man or whatever.’

  That hit. He could see it flash in her eyes as she looked away. Maybe that was it. Maybe he could goad her into coming at him. Just like she’d gone for AK with that glass. Not his fault if he was defending himself, was it? He clutched the blade again.

  ‘That’s exactly how we’re different,’ she said. ‘Your brother gets sore about something and he just starts swinging and fuck the consequences. Me, I plan. And I plan and I plan and when I fucking close on you there isn’t a thing you can do about it. When I’m ready, you’re done. My father treated me and my mother like dogs. And he got so used to looking at us and seeing dogs he forgot we were looking right back at him. He didn’t even see me coming.’

  ‘That how you got him too?’ Skeebs nodded to Reeves. ‘Because last time I looked I’m not the only one keeping secrets. You say you need to know what I know? Then why aren’t you talking about how you got that thing in the box? Maybe if you tell me then I’ll know what I’ve got to tell you.’

  ‘Because the last time I checked I was the one in charge. I’m the one with my family dead and my last little girl in the hands of a fucking sadist.’

  ‘Then why don’t we kill it now? Why we wasting our time? Knife’s right fucking there. Bridget was guessing just like the rest of us. What’s the worst that could happen if we try it now?’

  ‘You have no idea.’

  ‘And you do?’

  ‘You’re just going to have to trust me.’

  ‘Like Danny trusted you?’

  Amanda leant her head back, banging it against the wall. ‘We’ve been over this.’

  ‘Yeah, well, that’s the difference between Danny and you. Other way around, Danny would have helped you. Danny puts his people in front of a job. You’re just stone fucking cold. Sell us all out if it got you what you wanted. Amanda doesn’t want players, she wants pieces.’ He couldn’t remember who’d said that, someone back at the club but it had sounded good. It seemed to work, the look on her face. She stared at him, smoke drifting a column from the end of the cigarette pinched between her lips.

  The knife was slick in his palm. He fingered at the notch in the blade, the one that flicked it out. First her, then Reeves. Fuck the consequences. What other choice did he have? The ritual was a dead end. If AK had believed it would work he wouldn’t have sent a little girl to do it.

  Come on, he urged her. Come at him. One stab would be all it took if he timed it right. Side on, into the throat. Easy if he had no choice.

  He remembered the look on her face that day in the club. The way she’d cracked AK’s face open before they could blink. She acted like nothing could touch her but she’d shown her true colours then.

  But instead, she sighed, rolled her eyes around the room. ‘Alright then.’

  ‘Alright what?’

  Amanda was jabbing out her cigarette on the floor beside her. She reached for something in her coat pocket, held it up for him to see – a pack of cards, still in their cellophane.

  ‘Play you for it. Poker. One hand. You win I tell you everything you want to know.’

  ‘And if you win?’

  She gave him a look. Stupid question. ‘Come on…’ she waved a hand. ‘Get closer.’

  Skeebs didn’t move, watching as she pulled off the cellophane and tucked it away behind her. His mouth had dried up all at once. He reached for the can by his side before remembering that it was empty.

  This could be it. His chance, close enough that he’d be on her and stabbing before she knew what was happening. A few hot, tight moments and it would all be over. He’d be going back to Danny a hero. The Indian deal would be as good as theirs.

  But he’d be closer to Reeves. Literally in his shadow, close enough to touch… or be touched. The very thought made him curl up inside, it sapped his strength, made him want to cry. Fuck, but that thing had made him feel so small. Like he was nothing.

  Fucking pussy, Danny muttered.

  ‘Why ain’t we using your other cards?’ he asked, buying himself time. ‘The ones with all the drawings on?’

  ‘Those aren’t for playing with,’ was all she said. ‘You in or out?’

  She began to shuffle, the cards moving smooth as water between her hands. The shuffles got more and more complicated, proper Vegas shit, the riffling of the cards drowning out the rain, the clink of metal and thrum of the distant engine.

  Skeebs just watched, searching for that bit inside himself that could do what needed to be done.

  ‘Always liked cards,’ said Amanda, her gaze pinned on her hands.

  ‘Started with card tricks to impress my schoolmates. Then when that didn’t work I started using it to hustle them, using the magic shit to give me an edge. And I was fast back then. Then when I left, and my dad was dead, tried it on with the gangs. Thought I’d clean up, I was that fucking good. I’d made plenty of change off my mates. Fleecing adults, just more money, right? See this?’ Amanda, still cutting the cards one-handed, underlined a scar under her left eye. ‘Only thing I got. Those guys knew a cheat when they saw one. Didn’t even have to play me to know that. I didn’t give up games but I learned my lesson, getting one over on people got little to do with your hands.’

  She looked up to see if he was paying attention.

  ‘See, turned out a con and poker they got something in common. You’re not trying to beat your opponent here,’ she tapped the cards on the floor before her, ‘you’re beating them here.’ She tapped her forehead leaving a card there, the ace of spades winking out across the carriage like a third eye. ‘It’s about making the other guy do your work for you, fucking himself up on the inside, thinking he’s already beat and the only options he got are the ones you’re giving him.’

  The train gave a shudder, rattling the supplies in their boxes.

  ‘That’s what you think happened?’ he asked, his own anger building, pushing past the fear. ‘Jay and Livey and all those office people, they just gave in and—’ He fought to keep the memories at bay. He didn’t need a panic attack. Not now. Reeves felt closer than before, like he was leaning in to listen. Skeebs could smell the sharp musk of the man in the back of his throat. His heart was pounding in his ears.

  ‘No,’ said Amanda, her voice muffled. ‘I’m saying that whatever happened in that office has you so afraid of that thing in there you’re still letting it call the shots. Whatever bullshit that’s stopping you from telling me what happened and how you got out, that’s the shit that’s going to get you killed. Even when this is done, the things that got a hold of you now will still have a hold on you, except your chance to stand up to them dies along with him. You’ll be playing his games the rest of your life. This is your chance. Here. Now. To break free and do the thing that fear’s saying you shouldn’t. You’ve got to do the unexpected. Something outside its rules. That starts with playing cards with the woman you think’s responsible for putting your brother in jail.’

  Do the unexpected. Like forget the stupid card game and get close to stick a blade in her throat. How’d that be for making up your own options?

  Skeebs pushed himself out across the floor, every foot closer to Amanda a foot closer to Reeves and each one feeling like a mile. His body screamed for him to turn back. But he was in the middle of it now and, hard as it was, with panic came a strange sort of freedom, the fight or die kind. Danny would be proud of him.

  The knife came with him, out of his pocket now, still under the sleeping bag, sharp and thirsty.

  Amanda had this smirk on her face like she’d won something. Yeah, like she was shuffling the cards like that and he wasn’t expecting her to deal dirty. She’d deal him some weak hand and expect him to play along with her bullshit game and tell her everything about what happened. Instead she’d get a knife in the throat and when he got back Danny would hear all about the look on her face when he did it.

  Amanda started to deal, throwing the cards neatly into the space between them.

  The b
lade slowly folded out between his hands as he watched the cards mount up in front of him.

  Her eyes never left him, this piercing gaze, studying him and all of a sudden Skeebs was wondering what she saw. This was the woman who’d killed her own father, an Abra at the peak of his powers. Who had robbed people who considered themselves untouchable. This was a woman who’d done the impossible and captured a creature who had killed hundreds including some of the most ruthless bastards Skeebs had ever know.

  He tried to read her back, play her at her own game. But all he saw was a face.

  ‘So, another thing I like about cards,’ she said, picking the conversation up like it hadn’t stalled, ‘I know all the rules. There’s luck but only idiots rely on that. You do it right, and I mean professional, don’t need luck, you wrote that bitch out of the equation. But add something new into your game, rules shouldn’t be in it, new suits, you just made it a different game entirely, a game you don’t know and that means letting luck in again to get what you want. Black, like Bridget uses, like my father used, it’s its own thing. Hundreds of years and no one knows all the rules. Abras’ll tell you they do to make themselves feel big but they barely know more than the rest of us. Boss let Black in even when he didn’t understand it and it worked until his luck ran out. Now he’s just like that kid I was, out on the street, picking aces out the gutter. You work like we do, you got to know all the rules and variables. Understand?’

  Only idiots rely on luck. That’s what he heard. Was that what he was doing? If he took a swing and missed what would he do then? She was the one who’d suggested cards, a game she knew she’d win. She was the one who’d invited him closer, knowing he’d look like a coward if he didn’t. She’d fucking told him every step of the way what she was doing – dictating the rules, taking away his options. Now he was so close to Reeves he could reach out and touch him. And Caleb was right behind him. What if this was a trap?

  She knew about the knife. He had no idea how but she knew.

  Skeebs glanced down at his hand – a shitty Jack high.