by Steve McHugh
“I hear you’re leaving already,” Kay said, the smile on his face never reaching his voice. “I hope the attack that took place the other day wasn’t responsible.”
I didn’t like Kay. He was always looking for the angle that would best suit his purposes—whatever they might be—and I didn’t like the idea that he knew more about what had happened than I was comfortable with. “Lucie and Olivia have things in hand here. I have a few ideas I’m following up. I’ll be back soon enough. I want to be there when Fiona wakes up.”
“So she can identify her attacker, I presume.”
“No, so I can make sure she’s okay. We’ll find out who attacked her, we’ll make sure that justice is done.”
“Oh, you can be assured that those responsible will be shown to the world.”
“Is there any change in Fiona’s condition?”
Kay shook his head. “Sadly, no. How is your condition? I hear you’re infected with the same venom.”
I glanced down at the faded white glyphs on the backs of my hands. It had gotten to the point where I’d almost forgotten all about them. I hoped that there would be very few more occasions to use too much magic, lest the nightmare inside of me—Erberus—try to gain some measure of control over me. I hadn’t thought much about Erberus in some time. All nightmares communicated with their sorcerer hosts, it was how they corrupted the sorcerer to allow them to take control, but I’d never heard of a nightmare actually helping their host beyond simple survival. I meant to look into it, meant to discuss it with people who might have answers, but I never did. I was afraid of what I’d find.
I guessed if I kept using magic, I’d soon get to speak to Erberus again. Maybe he’d have answers, or maybe everything he said was a lie. I didn’t know. It didn’t feel like lies or deception, but then the very best deceivers are those who get you to think that the deception was always the best idea.
“I’m okay,” I told Kay. “The venom will be gone in a few days, I hope. After that I’ll probably sleep for a few months.”
Kay laughed. “Did I ever tell you the time I was bitten by a jorōgumo? I can’t begin to tell you the pain it causes. Well, clearly you know. You’re very lucky that someone knew that the use of magic counteracts the venom. Very lucky indeed.”
“I already knew,” I said. “No luck involved. I got bit by one back in Japan a long time ago.”
“Ha!” Kay laughed. “Just think if your attackers had known that, they might have used a different venom. That right there is some luck after all.”
“I guess so,” I agreed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to leave.”
“Of course,” Kay said. “Just do me one thing. If you find out any information, contact me with it. I want the names of those who have betrayed the SOA, I want to be there when you bring them down.”
“I will,” I lied. There was no way in hell I was going to willingly give Kay the chance to jump up and down and tell everyone how he’d saved Avalon single-handedly. He already had enough power and influence; adding to that total was unlikely to end well for those who had to work with him.
“Good trip, my friend,” Kay said and walked off. His Faceless stopped before me and stared, his mask giving away nothing of the emotions he might be feeling.
Kay stopped and turned back to us. “Oh, that’s right, my Faceless has something he wishes to say to you. You may talk.”
“You killed one of ours,” the Faceless said, his voice muffled by the mask.
“I did,” I said. “He called himself Reid, and he deserved a lot more than what I did to him.” He’d betrayed Olivia, her LOA agents, and people who trusted him. He’d given Tommy and Kasey over to an inhuman monster. All on the say-so of his master in Avalon. A master I never found. Eventually, Reid had confronted me in an act of supreme arrogance. He hadn’t fared well in the encounter.
“Killing one of us does not sit well with the rest of our order. There are those out there who may try to gain retribution for your act.”
“Well, the Reavers appear to be first in line for retribution, but if the Faceless want to queue up behind them, I’m sure to get to you eventually.”
“You mock, but I don’t think you understand the danger you’d be in if any of the Faceless decided to come for you.”
“I’ve killed Faceless before. Did you think Reid was my first? I’m sure if anyone wants to try me he won’t be the last either. You’re more than welcome to let your friends know that.”
“I shall.”
“Who did he belong to?”
“I am not at liberty to say.”
“Not at liberty or don’t want to?”
“Both. If his master wished to send Reid to kill you, I’m sure he’ll want to try again at some point. It is not my place to reveal a master to the victim of a Faceless. I’m just giving you a warning. The Faceless don’t like to lose members, we take it very personally.”
“I take people trying to kill me personally,” I explained. “Trust me when I tell you that if your friends come for me, I’m going to start sending them back on a more regular basis.”
“The mighty Hellequin can’t have eyes and ears everywhere.”
“You’ll be surprised what I can and can’t do.”
“I shall endeavor to pass along your sentiments to those who seek retribution.”
He walked off with Kay. I knew the Faceless would probably come after me for killing one of their own. I’d killed members as Hellequin, but done so in the shadows. Reid had confronted me at home, and that was always going to go down badly. Kay and his Faceless merged with the crowds at the bottom of the palace steps. I trusted both of them about as much as I did a rattlesnake not to bite me. Kay was a self-serving asshole, and his Faceless was quite possibly going to try to kill me. They say you can’t ever go home, and my visit back to Camelot was a pretty good testament to that fact.
CHAPTER 19
I found Ellie and Remy sitting by the realm gate, while the Avalon guards tried very hard not to stare at them every few seconds. They weren’t exactly used to people just hanging around the realm gate for several hours.
“You ready?” I asked them both.
“I’m leaving Avalon for the first time in over a century,” Remy said. “Frankly, I know we’re going to stop a bunch of murderous bastards, but I can’t wait.”
“Who was that big guy who came through about an hour ago? He announced he was helping you, and went through the realm gate.”
“That would be Mac.”
“He’s helping us?” she asked with a touch of interest in her voice.
“That’s the plan,” I told her.
“Yeah, he’ll be a big asset,” she said with a sly smile.
A few minutes later the realm gate was open and we stepped back through to Avalon Island, where an impatient Mac greeted us.
“You took your time,” he said as he unfolded his arms.
“Is the helicopter ready?” I asked the guard, Hendricks, whom we’d met when we first arrived on the island.
“Yes, sir, if you can follow me, we’ll get you airborne.”
We did as he asked and followed Hendricks out of the building and into a jeep. He drove to the far edge of the island, where a green Chinook sat idle.
“It’s a modified Chinook HC8,” Hendricks told us. “It’s a couple of years in advance of what’s currently out there. It’ll get you to The Hole without a need for refueling.”
There was a time when flying of any kind terrified me. And while I still wasn’t fond of the whole process, I no longer needed a large amount of alcohol to get me through the trips. A year ago I’d parachuted out of a helicopter flying over Stonehenge. It was not one of my fondest memories, and the idea of doing anything similar ever again was simply not on my to-do list.
“Where did this thing come from?” Ellie asked as we entered the helicopter.
“There’s an underground helicopter garage,” Mac explained when he sat opposite her. “They can raise a helicopter f
rom the garage whenever they like. It’s actually quite interesting.”
“Why don’t they use them to get to the island then?” Ellie asked.
“Ah, well, they can only have one operational at a time. So they’re used for emergencies and high-ranking dignitaries. It’s just easier to have everyone else arrive by boat.”
I sat next to Ellie, while Remy almost ran to the nearest window and stared out of it while the engines roared to life.
“Are you all ready?” Hendricks asked.
We all assured him we were and he wished us a good flight, closing the door behind him as he left the fuselage.
A guard appeared from the cabin and ensured the door was locked. “This is going to take a few hours, you might want to get comfortable.” With that he vanished back into the cockpit.
Soon after, there was a slight jolt and we lifted from the ground.
Ellie pointed to the headphones above our heads, and I put mine on, canceling much of the noise from the nearby, powerful engines. Ellie put hers on and pressed the communication button. “So what happens when we get there?”
“I’m going to go speak to the warden and ask to have Alan removed. It’ll probably mean having to go down to get him, but it shouldn’t take long. Then we go find Felix, and figure out exactly what he knows about the Reavers.”
“And if you’re wrong? If he doesn’t know anything?”
“Then at the very least we’ve kept someone from their grasp. We’ll figure out things from there.”
Ellie glanced over at Mac, whose eyes were closed.
“He’s quite . . . strapping, isn’t he?”
“Yes, if there’s one thing that accurately describes Mac, it’s that he’s strapping.”
“Is there a Mrs. Mac?”
“I have no idea. Ask him.”
“I might just do that.”
Mac opened his eyes, retrieved his headphones and put them on. “Female wolf, I understand your need to mate with me. It’s only natural. I am, after all, exceptionally desirable. But maybe it should wait until we’ve finished our current assignment. Then I will show you pleasures you’ve only dreamed of.” Mac’s smile was broad enough to have been seen from space.
“You arrogant little . . .” Ellie paused. “You’re taking the piss, aren’t you?”
Mac laughed. “You should know, I can hear you just fine even without these headphones. And yes, I am jesting. Although if you still wish to discover if there’s a Mrs. Mac, I’ll be more than happy to educate you once we’re done.”
I leaned over to Mac. “It’s the accent isn’t it? The Irish thing always seems to do well.”
Mac laughed. It was a deep belly laugh, and he pushed his fingers through his long red hair.
“Bloody hell,” Ellie whispered and then immediately removed her headphones and walked off toward Remy, who’d didn’t even turn to acknowledge her presence as he watched the ground fly past far below us.
“Was I cruel to mock her?” Mac asked.
I moved the tips of my thumb and index fingers a small measure a part.
“I shall make it up to her. I was only having fun. I did not mean to offend.” He removed his headphones and walked over to Ellie.
Remy finally took notice and ran over to sit beside me. I gave him some headphones. “How do your kind not fly all the time?”
“You’re enjoying yourself ?”
“I’ve heard about these machines, I’ve even seen pictures and footage, but this is incredible.”
“I’m glad you’re having fun.”
Remy’s smile faded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that this wasn’t serious.”
“Mate, be my guest to enjoy the flight. I doubt there’s going to be a lot of room for fun once we reach The Hole. You might as well get it in while you can.”
Remy tore his headphones off and dropped them at his feet, before running off to find another window to look out of. I glanced over at Ellie and Mac, who were deep in conversation. Ellie giggled at something, caught herself, and then nodded sternly to whatever Mac was saying. A few hours left of flying. I shut my eyes and decided to get some sleep. It took a while to realize I couldn’t go to sleep and keep my magic active. I was clearly tired, so I kept myself busy with thoughts of Liz Williams telling me that Avalon would give me answers as to who was behind the Reavers. In reality there had been few answers, but certainly more questions.
Eventually we reached our destination with a jolt when the helicopter landed. The pilot re-entered the fuselage from the cockpit and opened the door.
“We need to refuel,” he told me once everyone else had thanked him and left the Chinook. “Be a few hours.”
“That’s fine, this might take a while anyway,” I admitted. “Avalon bureaucracy isn’t exactly speedy.”
I stepped out of the vehicle and immediately wished I’d brought more than a thick hoodie to wear. With no barriers around the edge of the island, the wind tore through the heliport with a fierce determination to make anything there regret its decision to come.
We made our way toward the entrance to the prison, while my paranoia about someone in the prison working against us ran rampant. Despite Olivia’s assurances that she trusted the warden, I wasn’t going to let my guard down until I’d reached Alan and we were safely away. Hopefully my thoughts were baseless, but considering people had been trying to kill or capture me for the last few days, I was rightly concerned about where the next attack was coming from.
The building was one story high and sat in front of two taller buildings, one of which contained offices, and the second living accommodations for the staff. Another building sitting behind those contained supplies.
The automatic door opened for us and we soon found ourselves in a warm reception area. Two guards stood at opposite ends of a lengthy desk, watching us intently. A door sat at either side of the room, each with a red and white sign. One said staff only, and the other said visitors. The actual prisoner entrance to the island was a building identical to this one, but on the opposite side of the island, next to its own helipad. The last time I’d been to The Hole, it had been crawling with guards. They took security at The Hole very, very seriously.
“And you are?” a man asked from behind the desk. He wore an immaculate gray suit, the jacket of which almost entirely covered the bulge of his holster and gun.
“Nathan Garrett,” I said. “This is Remy Roax, Mac, and Ellie Ryan.”
“Mac?” the man asked.
“Is there a problem with my name?” Mac asked. “If you’d prefer you can call me Manannán mac Lir.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “I was not made aware that someone of your . . . stature would be arriving.” He glanced at Remy.
“Well, let’s forgo the pomp and ceremony,” Mac said. “Just open the door and let us go find Alan. Then we can go.”
“The warden wants to speak to you first.”
“Okay, and where is he?”
The printer next to the man began to hum, and soon after he passed us each our own IDs. “Through the Staff Only door, to the left, follow the signs. Do not deviate from that path. Those passes are not an all access tour.”
One of the guards walked over to the door, and swiped his card though the reader beside it. The door opened, and we all walked through, then followed the directions until we found ourselves outside a door marked “Warden.” An intercom sat beside the door, and I pushed the button; a woman’s voice came through. “Yes?”
“Nathan Garrett and company to see the warden.”
A second later the sound of a lock disengaging rang out, before the door slowly opened, revealing a small room beyond. A woman of about forty sat behind a mahogany desk and looked up from her computer screen.
“Only one of you need visit the warden—Nathan Garrett himself—the rest can wait just there,” she told us.
Everyone turned to look at the couch and table that had been hidden from view by the door. Magazines were scattered across the table
.
“Be back soon,” I said and walked across to the room to the only other door I could see.
The woman pressed a button on her desk and another lock disengaged. “You may go in,” she told me, so I turned the handle and pushed the door open, stepping inside.
The first thing I noticed upon stepping into the room was the fish tank that encompassed the entire wall on one side of the office. It must have been twenty feet long and eight or nine feet high. There were dozens of species of fish in the tank, and it was easily wide enough to fit a fully grown person in it, although not wide enough for them to be able to turn around once they were inside.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” a man asked in an accent that reminded me of my time in the Southern states of America. He offered me his hand, which I shook.
“It’s quite the talking piece,” I agreed.
“I’m Warden Philips. Been in charge of this place for nearly twenty years now. First time I’ve ever had a request to let someone go into the custody of a non-Avalon agent.” Warden Philips was a lanky man, with a few days worth of dark beard, although his head was totally bald. He smelled of tobacco, the cause of which was probably the pipe that sat on his exceptionally neat desk.
“This is sort of an unusual case,” I explained.
“That it is. Some of my guards aren’t happy you’re here. Vocally so.”
“We all have to put up with things we don’t like,” I said. “Has Alan been told?”
The warden shook his head. “We thought it best not to tell him. He can be quite . . . difficult if given news he doesn’t wish to hear.”
“Has he had any other visitors?”
He shook his head. “Not for the last few months. His wife was the last person who visited him. I heard about what happened to her. I hope she pulls through.”
“Does Alan know about Fiona?”
“If he knew about Fiona, we wouldn’t be here talking about him, we’d be out there trying to find him.”
I couldn’t argue with that summation.
“I want you to know something, Mister Garrett. Alan is almost a free man. He came here of his own choosing, and we’ve tried to ensure he stays as far away from trouble as possible. I like the man—I’m not ashamed to admit it—anyone who married someone and then agrees to go to jail so that they can start fresh is someone with conviction. If you’ll pardon my pun. Ten years he’s been here. A model prisoner in every regard. I do not wish to see him tarnish his reputation by an explosive outburst. Do you get what I mean?”
