At the opposite end of the road, people started getting out of the other cars. They all wore black suits, white shirts, and ties, with black messenger bags. To anyone not in the know, they looked like Jehovah's Witnesses. To me, they were Merlins on official business. At that moment in time, I'd have preferred Jehovah's Witnesses.
I slowed slightly, timing it so we'd step through the Wards of the house just before they reached us. Turning, I leaned on the iron railings fronting our house. 'Morning, Magister. How can I help?'
'Can we talk inside?' Their leader was a slim, youngish-looking woman. Hard eyes. Thick black eyebrows that most other women would kill for, but which she probably found to be slightly irritating. Her black suit was utterly professional, tight in the right places, loose where she could get a weapon out. I counted at least three weapons on her.
I gave her a tight smile, dipping my eyes down to where I was I certain she had a knife secreted away. Meeting her eyes, I saw them narrow. Bingo point to me. I widened my smile, giving them a good show of my pearly-white teeth. It irritated her and put them on the back foot. People were supposed to get nervous when they showed up. They were THE MERLINS, after all, and I didn't doubt for one second that they thought of themselves in capital letters.
'We can,' I dropped the smile quicker than I would a pissed-off scorpion, 'but we won't. I've had a shitty night, and I just want to Netflix and Chill. What do you want?' I narrowed my eyes and dropped my voice an octave to show that I could do hard just as well as she could. Better, in fact.
Her mouth quirked at the Netflix and Chill, raising an eyebrow in Dawn's direction. Dawn bless her, sighed, and fluttered her hand in front of her face. I nearly lost it at that moment.
'Fine. I'll get to the point then. Did you kill Caroline Smith?' It was carefully worded, the tone flat, neutral, and devoid of any judgement.
'Fucking what?' All sense of eloquence was lost. I felt like I'd been gut-punched. 'No, I bloody didn't. I was too busy fighting for my life on the way home. Spent all night dying and being resurrected by Mrs. Beaston.'
'She'll corroborate that, will she?'
'She will. Ask the fire brigade about a burnt-out car and whether there were any dead people as well. We left in a hurry, what with me dying and all.'
Her lips thinned, turning white. 'Thankfully, one of the police first on scene is Enlightened. Managed to plant some class A on a couple of them. It's being put down as a drug deal gone wrong. And they reported your car as stolen. Still, I expect you'll be getting a visit later to corroborate that, as well.' She stared at me, examining every inch. 'Fine. You look like shit, the car's pocked full of holes, and the bodies were found in a classic ambush position. You didn't kill her.'
'Thanks for that. Any ideas who did?'
'Nope.' She snapped a notebook shut I hadn't even realised she'd taken out, gave us a nod, and then turned away.
'Cuppa tea?' said Dawn lightly, taking my arm and guiding me to the door.
'Bloody kill for one.' God, it was good to have her around.
'Who the fuck do they think they are?' said Dawn as soon as the front door was shut, and every bolt and lock thrown home.
'They're the fucking Merlins. Our bosses. Mine more than yours, because of your status,' I said as she flounced down the black and white tiled hallway and into the lounge.
'But still, they know you're an Agent. How fucking stupid do they think you'd have to be to go and murder someone you were having an argument with?' She plopped herself down into her favourite chair, a bull's blood leather club chair
'Okay, Merlin lesson time. You need to understand this shit so you don't step on the wrong toes.' I paused as she huffed in my general direction. I hiked her studies folder from the top of the coffee table and tossed it into her lap. 'Make notes.'
Waiting patiently as she scrabbled out to find a pen, I went over what I was going to say in my head. Currently, her studies were all over the place, and she was having to concentrate on Spells, defences against —what she called her Snape sessions—and Magical creatures. As well as how the law of the land applied to Agents and the work they did. Whilst it prepared her for the work we did, it missed out all the cultural context behind it.
'Okay, King Arthur, you've heard of him, yeah?'
'Who hasn't? Loads of films ranging from utterly shitty through to the glorious Excalibur.'
'Right, well, he was a real person. You'll remember that his stories feature a lot of Magic, fairies, wicked queens, and such?' she nodded, scribbling with her pen as she did so. 'That all happened. He was the last king to have the sort of issues his stories feature. Namely, a war between humans, the Magical community, and Elsewhere. Our people, the Magical community, decided that they would throw in their lot with Arthur when it became clear Morgana and her people planned to ‘thin out the herd’ with regard to humans and bring back the druids to do Her Will.'
'Didn't Arthur shag Morgana?'
'Um, no. That's the films. You're probably thinking of Helen Mirren in Excalibur,' I said. She looked disappointed but sorting out the real from the fake was difficult after so many centuries. 'He shagged Morgause, otherwise known as Orcades. His half-sister.'
'That is rank, Harry!' We both shared a grin at that. It was a line from one of our favourite films of all time, and Dawn had a massive crush on all three of the male leads.
'Well, there were mitigating circumstances. He didn't know she was his half-sister at the time as they were estranged. And there was probably some Magic involved…and we're getting off the subject!'
I paused to get my train of thought back on track. 'The Merlins. There was never just one Merlin. There were many. They were the most powerful families of the Magical community. Their leader was a mad Welshman called Myrddin Wyllt and, somehow, the name came to be the word Merlin as we know it now.'
'Still don't see how they can come around treating people like that.'
'Because once they had saved humans from being ‘thinned out,’' I even did the air quotes, 'and tied themselves irrevocably to the continued preservation of humanity and the Royal Family, they became the most powerful people in our society. Now, there are many minor families of the Merlins, but they're still ranked above us in the hierarchy of our society. The lower families provide the foot soldiers, always hoping that their service will see their family elevated higher in that social strata.
‘They're our rulers and our police. With Agents such as myself dealing with the sort of stuff that they either deem to be below themselves, or which they can't deal with because they're a bit overstretched.' What I didn't say was that too many of the Merlin families were getting complacent, happy to rely on non-Merlins such as myself to bleed, whilst they lived in the lap of luxury.
There were very few truly poor Merlins around. Some, but very, very few. The rest were conspicuously comfortable in their lifestyle. 'So, when they come knocking, they come knocking with centuries of power behind them, including that of the throne. That, and if they were normal police, they'd still come knocking, and I'd still have to explain myself to them. Regardless as to where I was, there's no reason I couldn't have had that bitch killed by other means.'
'So, if the Merlins are behind everything in the U.K., who's running things in the US?'
'The US Marshalls. Capital M, double L. Not the lawmen of the Tommy Lee Jones type either. Although, they're just as dogged.'
'That's still a cool name. Must be confusing for yanks if they ever come across them.'
'You should see the enchanted six-shooters they carry. Engraved with Magical writings, using Magical bullets, and truly powerful bad-ass mages. And wait until you find out about the Shamans of the Five Nations.'
'The rugby tournament?'
Ugh, I thought, what the hell do they teach in schools?
'No, not the rugby tournament. The Iroquois. America has a lot of separate ruling councils. Over here, we have rogue Druids, new Pagan priests, and us. Over there, they have Shamans, new Pagans and us. It makes
for some awesome disagreements.' She nodded, soaking up the knowledge.
'Druids are the bad guys, right?'
'In that they encourage human sacrifice and want to bring back the Fae to rule over humanity? Yeah, they're the bad guys. And girls.'
And so, the lesson endeth. I grabbed Dawn's hand and pulled her to the feet with a 'time for 'spoons.'
Buller’s never failed to satisfy. The atmosphere was always good, not the sort of pub where you got any trouble, the food was not only cheap, it was tasty and filling, and the booze was the same. It even started to take the edge from the meeting with the Merlins, which had rattled me more than I thought it would and cared to admit to Dawn.
Being accused of killing someone—a possible innocent—with all the legal ramifications behind that, was worse than killing someone. The Merlins weren't signatories of any form of Human Rights Acts. God only knew what her family were thinking. I hoped John wasn't getting a load of shitty phone calls or—worse—visits.
That's when my heart sank, I realised that it had been two days since we last checked in with John. He was, aside from Dawn, my only true friend, a rock upon which I had become very reliant, and things had become so hectic that I hadn't even given him a second thought. He must have been worried sick.
We finished up as quickly as possible, then dashed back to the house to pick up my other set of keys, those with the Landrover's on it. It always paid to have two sets of keys if you had two cars. That way if you lost one set, you weren't utterly fucked when you needed to drive somewhere.
Picking up the Landy keys, was just about to set off when the doorbell rang. Sighing, I opened it and blinked in surprise at the appearance of a very young police constable and a female PCSO. Dawn stood to the side, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible whilst trying to hide what I would have sworn was a smirk.
'Ms. Doe?' he asked. You hear it all the time, about police getting younger every year, but I would have sworn this guy was Doogie Howser. Even when straining my eyes, I could barely spot a hair on his chin. I did spot the odd white-head and acne scar, however.
Lambs to the bloody slaughter, I thought, resisting the urge to pinch his cheeks and ask if he wanted a sweetie.
'Miss, but yes, that's me.' Technically and legally, it was my name. I'd even gone through the rigmarole of having my name changed by deed poll and then having all recollection of it, and my true name, expunged. I didn't want anyone knowing my True name. Not only might it give them power over me, it would also let them know who my family was, and I wasn't prepared to let that happen. Ever.
'I’m sorry to say, we've found your car.'
Ah, I remembered the warning from earlier. 'Sorry? But that's marvellous news! I saved up for years to buy that car. Slaved my fucking tits off, if I'm to be honest.'
Dawn placed a hand over her mouth, turning what sounded exactly like a laugh into a coughing fit. The PC winced, and the PCSO narrowed her eyes at me.
'No, it's really not,' he said in a small voice, then paused, mouth working for a second or so. 'I'm afraid that the suspected thieves are all deceased, and the car is a write-off. May we come in, just need you to answer some questions.'
That wasn't a request. It was a rhetorical order.
He tried doing what any good policeman would do and bull his way in but, unfortunately, he hadn't reckoned on my Wards. I have a bit of a wicked sense of humour, so whilst I had a lot of Wards that were fatal, I also had some which would—depending upon the intent of the person trying to gain entry—give them a polite warning that they should cease and desist.
With that I mind, I stepped back without a word—more importantly the word that would disarm the Wards—and let him take a step into the house.
'Ooofff, ohhhh.’ He clutched at his stomach as his cheeks suddenly bulged. 'I'm sorry, I seem to have a bit of a stomach upset.' And with that, he tuned and vomited over his colleague.
She, obviously being unimpressed at this, promptly lost her shit and vomited over him. It was like watching the Exorcist. The poor sod was absolutely covered with the contents of her stomach. The stench was utterly disgusting. Stomach-churning, some might say.
'Oh, dear! Well, best you get home and tidied up!' I said in my gayest voice as I closed the door after Dawn had lightly side-stepped her way past the puking police.
'You utter cow!' laughed Dawn, 'I bloody love that Ward! What a couple of fuckwitted, twatting cunt monkeys. Pissy attitude to take with anyone. You should have heard their bloody questions whilst I was out there. Fuckers took one look at me and decided I'd come to rob the place.'
'We'll give them a couple of minutes, then head out. Thank God, he didn't take two steps!' Two steps was what I called my Double-Ender Ward, the effects of which lasted for a week. Liquids from both ends for seven days was more than suitable enough punishment for anyone who dared enter our house without permission. I'd have gone for longer, but if the person was of a weak disposition, it might have killed them.
I was morally ambivalent about that, as they couldn't truly be innocents if they were breaking and entering, but the Law would probably have taken a different viewpoint, and I wasn't prepared to risk having to go through all the palaver.
'John's waiting, I dropped him a text when we were walking back. We need to update him. We'll take the Landy. Obvs.' To be honest, I preferred the Landy over my now-crispy Porsche. It was tough, built to last, and had a real ‘fuck you, I don't need roads’ look about it.
My Land Rover of choice was a Defender 110 in black. Snorkel at the front, bull bars, the works. But I had my reputation to uphold and Porsches invoked images of professionalism, speed, sleekness.
Land Rovers were brutally efficient and rustic. Something my London-based and more up-market contacts might balk at. Still, needs must. It was going to be months before the insurance claim for the Porsche was sorted, but I'd leave Dawn to do that. After all, what are apprentices for if not doing the shit things?
They say things come in threes. We'd had the Merlins, then the police and, finally, my phone rang just as we were about to get into the Landrover. It wasn't a recognised number, and I was tempted to just ignore it. Unfortunately, I'm curious, which is well and truly a curse most of the time, so I stabbed the answer button.
'Doe, thank you for answering the phone. I understand you've been especially busy,' the speaker was male, well-educated with perfection that was almost Received Pronunciation. He even sounded like money. 'Including killing my daughter.'
Shitting hell. I was starting to really regret ever taking on this damned Mark. I certainly hadn’t expected Smith’s father to call.
'Cat got your tongue? Or is that the silence of guilt?' His voice trembled. I could sense grief and rage behind his words.
'Neither. I'm tired. Bad couple of days, sir. We had nothing to do with your daughter's death.'
'Multiple witnesses say otherwise. You were the last ones to speak to her. You were the last ones to be seen to be arguing with her. Circumstantial of course, but people in your line of work are easily able to arrange for others to meet their demise.'
I flapped my hand at Dawn as she stood mouthing questions at me. Mostly, they were along the lines of 'who the fuck is that?' She stuck out her lip, hamming it up, placing her forefinger on her lip, jutting out her hip. It was ticking sexy and funny all in one, and I couldn't tell whether I should be turned on or laugh.
'Ms. Doe. Are you there? I swear trying to talk to you is like speaking to a teenager.' Less grief. More rage. I was making things far worse, but the events of the last couple of days were impairing my ability to give a shit.
'Still here. The Merlins have been around, and they're satisfied I'm innocent.' I tried to keep my tone respectful, but it was hard. He was a grieving father who needed to vent his grief, to find an answer. Only, I wasn't the answer, and there wasn't a chance in hell I'd accept the role of stool pigeon.
'Well, I'm fucking not!' his voice cracked,
tears threatening to spill forth in his voice. 'No one else had a reason to kill her. No one, and I'm fucking coming for you.'
Forget the raw hatred in his voice, that came with the job, it was the pure grief as well as the swearing that got to me. He struck me as someone who viewed swearing as base, as something beneath him, so to resort to such demonstrated by just how strong and heartfelt his feelings were. And no one ever wants to be on the wrong side of a Merlin, no matter how much power they do or don't have.
'With respect, sir, this is tied into a Mark I'm working on. We believe those we're investigating are the ones who killed her, for whatever reason. She appeared to know more about the investigation than was widely known. She was killed because of that.'
'Don't you dare imply she was acting against the Merlins. Don't you dare!'
'Sir,' I paused to get my breath, to collect my thoughts, as I was skating on thin ice and really didn't want to be challenged to a duel, 'I didn't mean to imply any such thing. I merely suggest that because of the information she had, that she then became a target of the Marks. This is something we are actively pursuing as part of the Mark.'
'And what, precisely, was the nature of the information she allegedly held?' Back under control, emotions simmering just beneath the surface.
'That certain actions had been taken against the Librarian.'
'Well, it should have been bloody obvious that actions had been taken against him. He's not exactly the most machismo or confrontational of people, is he?'
'She knew the specifics, sir. Information that no one not involved knew.' I felt that he was being deliberately dense. Or obstructive.
We knew the Merlins had been compromised, and perhaps their whole House was in on it. That was something I really didn't want to have to deal with.
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