All Merlin Handlers wore them as a mark of respect. Most of them were also committed Catholics, raised by the Salesians. It was the only way the Magical community could guarantee they would have handlers they could completely trust. Until now.
'How many handlers are there in Devon?' asked our mysterious Merlin. It was clear from the tone of her voice that she knew the answer. Still, I knew I had to answer.
'Just the one. Ours,' I choked out.
'Fuck a duck,' gasped Dawn, clapping her hands to her mouth.
'Was it attached to a body?' I asked.
'No, the chain was broken.'
And with that, my world came crashing down around me.
The drive home was not pleasant. Most of it spent sat in stunned silence. Every time I looked over at Dawn, tears were rolling down her cheeks. I had to wipe tears from my own cheeks. It was a pain, in centre of my chest, as if my heart had a truly broken.
John had been part of my life for years. To know he had somehow broken all the vowels so dear to members of Saint Bosco’s order rocks my world. It changed everything I ever thought I knew. What is friendship, was his mentorship, all just a lie? I couldn’t tell, and my brain was wearing so much that I couldn’t sort out my thoughts correctly.
I placed my hand on Dawn’s thigh, letting it rest there. She laid a hand over mine. It was my role, our role really, to identify threats Magical and Mundane communities. And in this sense, I had failed. My brain ran through every single Mark that John had assigned me. I couldn’t tell whether all of them any of them were genuine. How long have you been betraying our trust? Had I been acting on his orders and not on those of the Merlins? Had I been killing people to suit John’s own agenda? The thought made my stomach churn, and I felt sick, as if someone was pressing down on my throat. I knew I was going to have to review every single Mark John had ever assigned me. I also knew that the Merlins were going to want to be sat next to me as I did so. If it turned out that we were in any way rogue, there was the chance that Merlins would execute us.
That thought, rather the thought of Dawn being executed, was the worst thing that ever occurred to me. My role was to train her in the ways of an Agent. My role was to teacher how to spot enemies and how to combat them effectively. My role was not to lead them into danger when that danger was something I should have spotted and combated much earlier than now.
‘What we do now, babes?’ asked Dawn softly. Her voice had a tremor in it, it was full of pain. Even though she and John had not known each other for a long time, they had grown close in the time they had known each other. She was new to the Magical community, and a grown-up among landings, so she had a much greater understanding and, therefore, more in common with John than I.
I had welcomed this friendship. I had encouraged this friendship. I had always thought that if something happened to me, Dawn would have a friend in John and someone who would always take care of her best interests. I grimaced, a snort of laughter escaping.
‘What’s so funny?’ asked Dawn. I took my eyes off the road for a second to meet has.
‘Irony, ‘I said and turned my eyes back to the road.
‘Oh, you mean the fact that we trusted our handler and never even realised he was a traitor?
‘Well, yeah.’ There wasn't much that I could say in reply to that.
We drove for a couple more minutes in a silence that felt absolute.
'They're going to make us kill him, aren't they?' said Dawn.
I sighed. 'Yes, babes, he's a rogue handler. He knows far too much about our Society, and the Magical community as a whole.' I let go of her hand to wipe away some more tears, and to gather my thoughts. 'There's the very big chance he's had us working Marks which weren't in any way Sanctioned by the Merlins. That's a fucking big deal. If we don't kill him, they're going to kill us.'
'Fuck. Him,' she said. I'd never heard her voice so devoid of emotion. A glance showed me that her face looked like it had been set in stone. 'He knew what he was doing. He knew that he was putting us in danger. He knew what putting you on this Mark would cause us to cross paths.'
'Are you sure you want to do this?' I kept my voice soft, trying to sound as neutral as my emotions would let me. 'It's not easy killing someone you know. Believe me.'
'He tried to get me killed. He knew we would be dropped in the shit, and he still did it.' She twisted in her seat until she was fully facing me. 'There isn't a chance in hell that I would leave you to do this on your own.'
I tried to smile, but all that I could do was grimace and swallow heavily as a sob threatened to tear itself from my throat. ‘Thanks,’ was all I managed before I burst into tears.
Crying is cathartic. Anyone who tells you it isn’t, is talking utter bollocks and really isn’t worth listening to. That’s the whole point of crying. Tears don’t just consist of water and salt, they’re also filled with your pain, your emotions, and even tiny bits of your soul. Of course, you won’t find that in any of the accepted medical journals, but that’s the plain truth.
That didn’t mean we didn’t stop off at the local bakery, load up on cakes, and then spend the next couple of hours scoffing the lot. We couldn’t drink as we knew we had a Mark to deal with. That was going to come later, and would involve a lot of whisky. And Chinese takeaway. Cake at that time served three purposes, it kept us from having to speak further on how we felt about John’s betrayal and what we would have to do. It also provided some comfort. Food does. It’s not good to use food for comfort all the time, but in times like this, it’s perfect. And thirdly, we’d been on the go for God knew how long by that point. Cake is full of carbs and sugar, two things guaranteed to give you extra energy.
We were just finishing off a superb Victoria Sponge—a joint favourite—and eyeing up a rather excellent-looking Battenberg, when my mobile rang. Our eyes met for a second as it buzzed frantically on the coffee table, each buzz sending it towards the edge.
Without a word, I picked it up and swiped to answer. ‘Doe.’
‘Remember me? We met at Dartmoor,’ it was the Agent-who-shall-not-be-named. ‘Following consultation with my superiors, I’m calling to update you.’
I suddenly wished I hadn’t eaten so much cake. ‘I’m listening.’ That was all I could trust myself to say. Dawn stood and quickly crossed the room to sit next to me, arm around my shoulder.
‘You have a new Mark. Your Handler is now classified as Outcast, and you are directed to eliminate him.’
God, I fucking hated that word. ‘You mean kill him. If you mean kill him, fucking say so.’
There was a long pause, so long that I nearly hung up. ‘Very well. Find him. Kill him. Confirm the kill. If you don’t kill him, you and your assistant will be considered Outcast, as well.’
‘Understood,’ I said before hanging up. I wasn’t going to let her have the last word.
‘So, what do we do now?’ asked Dawn.
‘I don’t know,’ I sighed. ‘We’re going to have to search every nook and cranny for John. ‘
‘Did he have any hobbies?’
I mean, he was lovely, always kind, but now that I think about it, he never talked that much about himself. We know where used to live, but do you really know where he used to live? Was that house just a showhouse for us, for other members of the Magical community, so he appeared to have a normal life? ‘
I ground my teeth, the idea that absolutely everything about John‘s life had been online was not something I’d considered. I thought they must’ve been at least some kind of…truth to aspects of his life. But Dawn was correct. How could we know whether anything we had ever seen all been told by John was the truth? Thinking about it, I realised we probably never knew the real John. Never knew the real man behind the façade, the illusion, which he projected. There was a special irony in this being that Saint Bosco was the patron saint of illusionists. I wondered how long John had been harbouring these thoughts about the Magical community. Whatever these thoughts were. We still didn’t know why
he wanted to commit such treason. Why he had turned upon the very people who had raised him.
’How obvious do we make this search?’ asked Dawn. ‘Do we go loud, or do we keep it as quiet as possible? ‘
‘I don’t know, ‘I replied, ‘I think we’re going to have to go loud. If we are to take John down before he commits any other treason or causes any more damage, we’re going to need the help of everyone we can get.’
‘I think we should start at the bottom and work up,’ said Dawn.
‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘If he was up to and no good, then he’s hardly have been likely to have been working with other people in a position as high as the Smiths. After all, the Merlins don’t turn upon themselves that often.’
‘That means we’re going to have to hit the streets,’ said Dawn. ‘Which means we are going to have to get our hands dirty again.’
‘But I was hoping to avoid that,’ I said. ‘And further, I’m fed to the back teeth of dealing with scum all the time. It so tiring working with people like this.’
‘Well, it’s not as if you can quit now, is it?’ said Dawn with a waspish tone to her voice. ‘If you quit, we are as good as dead. So, we’re going to have to finish this job, deal with things our way, and then, if you feel the same, you can quit.’
‘I know,’ I sighed, scrabbling at my face with my hands. ‘It’s just that sometimes I get so tired. I just wish I could have a job, a Mark, that has a happy ending. I don’t mean saving the world, or preventing demon’s from entering this plane of existence, I just mean something where people are happy to see me, and I do a job which leaves everyone involved happy.’
‘Well, babes, you’re dreaming if you think there’s a job like that in a world like this.’ Dawn moved towards me and laid a hand upon my shoulder. With her other hand, she lifted my chin, looked me in the eyes, and then placed a gentle kiss upon my forehead.
‘When did the apprentice’s become the master?’
‘When the master needed her to.’
We hugged. I’m not sure how long. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that we had each other, and for those few minutes, there was some sort of peace.
‘Let’s go find John,’ said Dawn when we finally broke our embrace. I nodded. There was nothing else that needed to be said.
Saying we were going to do something didn’t necessarily make it reality. My feet were aching after two hours of solid walking through the streets of Exeter. None of the usual suspects were anywhere to be found, so we gave up on that and headed over to John's house. It was a long shot. He was a professional, and returning to somewhere so closely associated with him would have been a mistake only an utter novice would make, but it might have had some clues, even if they were only red-herrings planted to try to throw anyone pursuing him off the scent.
First off, we cased his house. No matter how professional he was, I didn't want to run the risk that he had played a double-blind and had returned. There was no knowing what Glamours and weapons he had, and I didn't want to risk a bullet to the face.
When I was finally convinced he hadn't returned, it had taken nearly thirty minutes before we could even get the Wards down and enter the house. The defences he had on his house were impressive, to say the least. There were the usual anti Mundane Glamours, but there were also a lot of purely defensive Wards. Spells which would have deflected any attack, Spells which would have reacted somewhat violently to someone trying to force entry or to trick the way into the house. There was even a ward which discovered a person’s intent. When we did get into the house, it was still. The sort of still with the house that had been empty for years would’ve felt like. It made the hairs on my arms stand. Goosebumps covered my bare skin. It’s as if John never lived here.
'This is spooky,' said Dawn as she drifted around the room. 'It's like he was never here.' To hear my thoughts echoed in such a way was slightly unsettling, but considering how closely we worked together, shouldn't have been surprising.
'Yeah, I get the same feeling. I can't understand. We were here just a few days ago,'
'Still, it's a bloody nice house,' said Dawn. 'Do you reckon I could have this place, once I've graduated?'
'Sometimes, babes, your humour is a little off the Mark. But yes, I'm pretty certain you can have this house.' I didn't smile when I spoke. Everything was far too raw for me to be able to laugh about it. I appreciated the effort she was making to try to cheer me up, but I just could not summon up the energy.'
'Where next?'
The where next was back to streets. As any good detective knows, pounding the pavement was often the only way to find the person, or the thing, you are hunting. We had gone to all the usual haunts of the sort of people that we thought John might have been allied to. No one was willing to talk to us. Not even after Dawn picked the odd one up by the testicles. That at least, brought a smile to my face.
There was only one person we haven't been out to find, or to speak to. Bert. There was only one place that we haven't tried, under the bridge. Underneath the old bridge beside Exe bridge were arches. Every one of them a sanctuary for the homeless. Sleeping bags, cardboard boxes, rucksacks, and the typical detritus of alcoholics and drug users, littered the floor. It stank. When people are this low, they don't care about when they shit or piss. Bert was known to come here on the odd occasion, when things were especially low. With everything that happened over the last few days, this was probably the only place he felt he might be safe.
Living on the edge of Magical and Mundane societies, Bert was an outsider in every sense. He didn't belong to either one, and yet that didn't meant he didn't not belong to either one. It must've been horrible feeling excluded from both societies, looked down upon by members of both every day, all day. His history was complicated. He was once an Agent of the Merlins, a member of the armed forces. The Merlins had their own small special forces unit called the Hawks. It was a play on the fact that the Merlins were called as they were. The Hawks had to, and still do, many dirty jobs, which the usual armed forces simply weren't capable of coping with. One of those missions had gone spectacularly wrong, and Bert had never recovered from it. His decline had been rapid, and within a few weeks, he had left the Hawks, returned to Exeter, and was on the streets.
The smell under the arches was appalling. Dawn’s hand immediately flew to cover her mouth, and I had to take a few deep breaths to control my churning stomach. There were several homeless people, as well as their dogs, lying on the damp cardboard that was their floor. Others still slept in their sleeping bags. The only way you could tell there was a person within the bags was because of the snoring. All the bags that weren't being slept in had been stuffed with all the bag owner’s belongings.
As I stepped forward to speak to one of the few who seemed to be fully awake and not under the influence of alcohol or drugs, I stepped on something that was far softer than it should've been. Rather like the realisation that you stubbed a toe brings on the pain, realising that I had stepped in dog shit brought on the smell
‘Oh, for god’s sake,’ I said as I tried to scrape the shit from my shoe.
‘Jesus, boss, give up,’ said Dawn as I was only succeeding in spreading the excrement all over the cardboard I stood on.
‘You fucking up our place,’ said the man I had been walking towards before stepping in the shit. I didn't recognise him. He was clearly a member of the Mundane homeless and not an outcast from our own small society.
‘I'm so sorry,’ I said, looking him straight in the one eye he had. He looked a bit like a pirate Jesus. It was odd. There was a serenity about him I didn’t normally associate with Mundanes outside of the clergy.
‘Just be a bit more careful, eh?’ he said, scooting over so I could stand next to him. ‘It’s not as if we have much in the first place. Appreciate that the bloody dog shouldn’t have shat there in the first place, but I can’t get Steve to control the damn mutt. My dog Rufus is better trained.’
A dog I hadn’t previously
noticed before, lifted its head, and thumped its tail twice. He, too, had a patch over one eye, although this time it was just colouring.
‘Should have called him Bullseye.’ I smiled, hoping to break the ice somewhat.
‘Why the fuck would I do that? It would be like painting a target on him.’
‘Um, it’s a literary reference. Oliver Twist. Bullseye was a dog in the book and film. He had the same marking. That’s all,’ I said quickly, feeling especially flustered with no reason to be.
‘Yeah, I know,’ said Captain Jesus. ‘I’m just messing with you.’
He stared hard at me and Dawn, taking us both in. It wasn't a lecherous look, just one that seemed to break us down into our components, and then file and categorise them for later consideration. I couldn't tell if I minded being looked at in such a way, but for some reason, I didn't feel threatened either. Just by looking at him, and through the few words we had exchanged, I knew this one might be using as an informant in the future. I might as well start now, I thought.
‘I'm looking for Bert. We need help, and I think you might be in trouble.’
‘Well, he's not gonna be much use to you right now,’ said Captain Jesus, pointing at a sleeping bag in the corner. ‘He was on a bender all night. Got absolutely twatted. Doubt you'll get any sense from him for the next few hours. Although, maybe if you took us both for a good fry up, he might regain his senses.’
I looked him in the eye for a few seconds.
‘Okay, reckon you can get him up?’
‘For a full English, I can get Mother Theresa to pole dance.’ He laughed. Dawn and I both sniggered. There was a certain Charm around Captain Jesus that was hard to resist. I was certain that when he was out on the streets begging, his cup would brimmeth over. A bit of a wash and a shave, as well as a sharp suit, and he’d have men and women falling over themselves.
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