by G Mottram
Anna nodded. The path narrowed between the garage and the river as the guesthouse came into sight. Anna wasn’t finished chatting yet though, ‘I used to be in the Brash when I was there – a fighter of course, not a moll.’
‘What’s a moll?’ Jason asked.
Anna raised her eyes. ‘Duh… the pretties that swoon around the gang boys… the carrots to join and win fights.’
Jason stared blankly at her. Then as the word ‘pretties’ sank in he inadvertently flicked his eyes over Anna’s well-muscled but somewhat masculine frame and face.
She caught his glance and laughed, a little too harshly. ‘Yeah, I know… good job I didn’t want to be a moll, eh? Believe it or not, I do scrub up fairly well out of this training gear though.’
Jason felt his face redden. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean…’
‘Don’t worry about it… I don’t fancy you either – junior,’ Anna grinned.
Jason relaxed a little. ‘How long have you been training here – are you like a particular belt or something?’
‘Oh I’ve been in this place forever and I’m really senior and important but we don’t have belts - just students in blue, masters in black. In the real world you won’t have any clues about how good your opponent is and if any Brethren actually got through to us we don’t want to set out their targets for them. You don’t even get to wear anything special if someone’s Gifted like you.’
Jason stared at her. ‘How do you know I’m Gifted?’
Anna gave her Brash-like grin again. ‘You’re the great hope, remember?’
They came to a stop at the foot of the split steps up to the guesthouse. Anna did some stretches to loosen up, chatting all the while. ‘Now, do you remember your code to get in? Do you need your aunty Anna to help you in the shower?’
‘No… I mean yes… I remember the code and…’ Jason saw her smiling and calmed down. ‘… and I’ll be fine getting into the shower on my own, thanks.’
‘Excellent – are you back with us tomorrow?’
‘Uhh – I’m not sure. I think so.’
‘Good – I’ll kick your butt properly then.’
Anna slapped him on his good arm and jogged back the way they’d come. He watched her run – strong and relaxed. He supposed that she might scrub up well after all but she was a bit old for him, of course.
And then he thought of what Anna had said – molls… carrots to lure in recruits… rewards for doing well. Was that really all Tanya had been – a bit of temptation to pull him in to the Brash? Had she just been doing her job?
He ran up the steps, punched in his code and thumbprint and shoved the door open. To hell with them all. He was always going to be rubbish with girls. He’d wanted to join the Brash anyway, push his Jakra and learn just what his Gift can do… having a “pretty” to pull him in was just a bonus.
Jason stormed through the corridors and up the stairs. He’d show them - he’d go way beyond the pathetic Brash gang here. He’d be the fastest, strongest, most Gifted fighter they’d ever seen. Then Tanya would be begging to go out with him… instead of doing it because she was told to.
He’d showered and dressed within ten minutes and was on his way back across the entrance hall when he wondered where he was supposed to go now. It was getting on for five o’clock. Brash had said something about getting him home but how was he meant to get back there?
He opened the doors and his answer awaited him… in the shape of the silver Aston Martin Vanquish he’d squeezed passed on his way to training. A tall, sandy haired, young man in chinos and blue sweatshirt leant against one side of the gleaming bonnet.
‘Hi Jason – want a ride home? Say yeah, because then we get to borrow this beauty.’
The man had a soft, southern American accent. He smiled, crinkling his lightly freckled cheeks and spread one hand over the stunning Aston.
‘Sure.’ said Jason, fitting in with the man’s easy manner and trotted down the steps.
‘I’m Lance Van Garde, a student of Mr Brash’s.’
Lance stuck out his hand and Jason shook it. He’d a firm, enthusiastic shake.
‘Uh… Jason Willow… school boy,’ Jason smiled back.
‘Well jump in, school boy.’ Lance said as he strode around to the driver’s side. Jason climbed inside to be gripped by the calf-hide seats. He felt like he was about two inches off the ground. Lance jumped in the other side and slipped a credit card-type key into a discreet slot. A red “START” button glowed on the centre of the dashboard. Lance winked at him and pressed the button.
The Aston roared into life then quickly settled to a purr of anticipation. The air conditioning kicked in, lights and dials flashed up green, Lance’s thumb touched a small silver paddle on the steering wheel and they were off. Jason frantically tried to clip his seat belt as the Aston shot up the drive and pinned him back against the leather.
Small, green statistics and pulsing bar charts had flashed up in the bottom right of Lance’s windscreen and the American kept glancing at these as the drive sped beneath the bonnet. Steering with just one hand, Lance ran his thumb over a tiny gold button on the steering wheel and the cab filled with Queen – “Don’t Stop Me Now”.
‘You’ve driven this before then?’ Jason said, forcing himself to relax and stretch out his legs into the cavernous foot well.
‘Oh sure, dozens of times. Mr Brash is pretty generous with his toys… particularly if there’s a lady I need to impress.’
‘Mmm,’ Jason swallowed awkwardly. ‘Are you learning Jakra with Cadaveril?’
‘Sure am, and the rest of the package – guns, explosives, swords.’ Lance glanced across at Jason. ‘And I get one-on-one with Master Schmidt… you know what that means, right?’
‘Uhh – no.’
Lance looked back at the road just in time to avoid a tree. ‘Gifted, am I,’ he explained, in about the worst imitation of Yoda from Star Wars Jason had ever heard.
They skidded to a halt before the Abbey’s gatehouse. Two security guards, each wearing a holster, stepped out from the guardhouse. One stood just to the side and front of the Aston, the other came to Lance’s window which hissed down. The bass speakers thumped Queen out into the evening air.
‘Van Garde, running Jason Willow home. Exit code GVL459’ Lance said, not bothering to turn the music down.
The security guard unclipped some sort of palm top computer from his belt and thumbed a couple of keys.
‘Have a safe journey,’ he said, after a few seconds and nodded back to the guard box. The cross bolts slid back and the massive gates whirred open.
Lance hit the accelerator and the Aston wheel span under the arch and almost took off down the hill to Darkston Village.
‘So what do you think of the old place?’ Lance asked, swinging the car around a corner at eighty miles an hour. The tyres squealed but held steady.
‘Umm, amazing… huge… black,’ Jason ventured, not quite able to focus on conversation.
Lance glanced across and grinned massively, then looked ahead to take the next bend between the first set of cottages at the base of the hill.
‘Oh yeah… all of that and more.’ he nodded. ‘Ain’t it just another world… so glad Mr Brash found me or else I’d still be festering in Hicksville, Alabama.’
‘Mr Brash found you?’ Jason asked, tensing as the windscreen display plummeted from ninety to sixty to take a particularly sharp corner. The engine roared in protest as Lance dropped a gear to give him more control.
‘Yeah – a couple of stories in the local paper about… some weird stuff I did back home got picked up by his people and they brought a team over. There they found me – a barn blasting freak to my friends and neighbours but a World saving Gifted to Brash Industries.’
‘Didn’t your dad explain anything to you?’
Lance slowed down a little and his smile faded. ‘My pa was killed when I was a baby – “family gunned down by drive-by punks” was the story. They tried for the buggy too but ma
jumped in the way and lost half a hip for her trouble. We moved out of state and no one talked about it much after that.’
‘That’s horrible…’ Jason began.
‘Others have had it worse. Mr Brash reckons those punks were probably agents who’d tracked us down. He looked up the press stories – no one else on the street was shot and the papers said Pa had a reputation for doing weird tricks – smashing bricks and running his arm through fire – stuff like that.’
Jason didn’t know what to say. Lance shook himself and hit the accelerator again. ‘I sure as Hell am going to return the favour some day soon.’
‘Are you going to join the Watch then, go over to Romania?’ Jason asked.
‘You need to ask?’ Lance said, incredulous. ‘Jesus, Jason, there are filthy, blood-sucking demons out there that nobody knows about and I have the power to take them out. Hell, yeah, I’m going to join up – maybe with the Watch or maybe I’ll just hang with Mr Brash. He kicks demon ass his own way. Whatever,’ Lance tapped the Aston’s steering wheel and grinned, ‘the payback is pretty good.’
Jason smiled back and looked through the Aston’s steeply sloping windscreen. They were speeding past the pizza place where he and Tanya had eaten. Had she really just been his “payback” – was all the laughing and kissing just following orders?
Lance suddenly swung a left and roared off down a side street. Jason decided not to think of Tanya. ‘How long have you been over here, Lance, in the abbey I mean?’
‘About a year and a half. You wouldn’t believe the stuff I’ve learned… Mr Brash and the other masters – hell - they pull it out of you. Back home I levelled a couple of chicken coops and stuff when I got mad but I didn’t know how the hell I did it. I sure ain’t the most powerful guy here but Schmidt and Cadaveril together are using what I’ve got to turn me into somethin’ pretty special.’
Lance revved to a halt at the main gate out to Drunken Abbot. Once again, two security guards approached the car but they’d no weapons showing. Lance gave them the same information and “exit code” and after checking a palm-top they were waved through.
‘You know,’ Lance began, wheel spinning the Aston through the gates so the back end whipped from side to side, ‘the word is that you’re something special yourself… Third Order even?’
Jason shrugged. ‘What’s Third Order?’
‘You know – 6-6- something… Now I know we are not meant to talk about it but… Jesus, aren’t you excited? With that sort of power you’d be treated like a god over in the Carpathians.’
‘I haven’t decided to join up yet. My dad used to be in the Watch but he doesn’t want me to get involved with it all.’
‘Oh, right… he’s one of the quitters, huh?’
‘I suppose so.’ Jason said flatly.
They were silent for a time. The Aston roared through Drunken Abbot, past pubs just beginning to fill up for the evening. Angry, hate-filled glares followed but they were travelling in one of Alan Brash’s personal cars and it seemed no one was stupid enough to attack it. Besides, Lance drove too fast for any bottle to have a chance of reaching them
Jason thought back to that night with Fast Eddie – fighting for their lives in the Abbot and Lashing and running from a beer crazed mob that would have surely ripped them to pieces.
In no time they were out of the town and speeding towards the Darkston Wick turning. Lance suddenly pulled hard left on the wheel and they slid onto the forest road to Darkston Wick. A moment later he skidded to a halt. Without saying a word, he lowered his window.
Lance breathed in deeply, drew his right hand in tight to his chest then with a huge exhalation thrust his palm through the open window. A spruce convulsed and the top half ripped away from its trunk and crashed into the trees behind then dropped to the ground in a hail of branches and leaves.
Lance turned to Jason, his eyes bright. ‘You’ll be able to do a hell of a lot more than that.’
‘I quite like my trees in one piece, actually,’ was all Jason could manage to say.
Lance grinned then his smile faded. ‘Seriously - even if you don’t join up, you need to be able to look after yourself - don’t let anyone stop you learning, Jase, not even your pa.’
He held Jason’s gaze and hit the accelerator. The Aston took off along the road and Lance finally looked where he was going. He pushed the technological dream machine ever faster through the trees. Trunks and branches whipped past them in a blur and in just under two minutes they burst out of the tree line to fly down the hill and slide to a halt in a spray of the Old Mill’s driveway gravel.
‘Dad will be out raking the drive smooth for hours tomorrow because of you,’ Jason said, a half smile playing on his lips.
‘You, Jase, have more important things to think about than raking the yard. Pick you up at seven sharp, right?’
Jason held Lance’s gaze. ‘In the Aston?’
‘Or something better.’
‘I’ll be here,’ Jason said and climbed out. He turned to thank Lance for the lift but the Aston was already speeding away, Aerosmith’s “Love in an Elevator” blaring out of the open windows.
Jason turned back to the Mill House. Now it was time to really face the music.
Chapter 17
There were voices from the kitchen when Jason opened the front door – Dad, Miranda, Marakoff’s vaguely Russian tones and Ilena Russof’s calm, measured voice. Jason was tempted to go straight up to his room but decided against it. He might as well face them all now.
The talking stopped immediately when Jason strode into the kitchen. They were all sitting around the big farmhouse breakfast table with mugs of tea in front of them. Dad and Ilena were sitting very close together. Jason nodded a hello and headed straight for the fridge to dig out a can of Coke.
‘Your taxis are getting classier,’ Miranda said, breaking the silence.
Jason leant against one of the stone topped work surfaces and opened his can. He wasn’t going to lie to them. ‘I got a lift back from Darkston Abbey – I started training there today.’
Ilena and Marakoff glanced at each other and visibly sank back into their chairs as if to say “this is family stuff”.
‘And what about school?’ Dad asked.
‘Things are a bit… unsettled there. Mr Brash said I should stay away for these last few days of term... we wouldn’t be doing much work anyway and…’
Dad cut him short. ‘Is he intending to teach the Gift to you?’
Jason didn’t hesitate. ‘I think so, yeah.’
Dad was nodded, staring at him with steady eyes and his mouth in a tight line.
Jason dropped his gaze to take a drink from his Coke. No one said anything. Even Miranda kept her mouth shut for once.
Jason swallowed and carried on. They weren’t going to stop him doing this. ‘We’ve flogged this argument to death, Dad. I’m going to learn what I can do… Mum was murdered in front of me and Miranda was seconds away from being killed in Mawn. Whether I end up joining the Watch or not I’m never going to feel that useless again. If any of them come for us again I’m going to be ready.’
Dad shook his head slowly. ‘It won’t stop at that. If you learn your Gifts then, one way or another, you’ll be drawn in to their world. You’ll be too powerful to ever be left alone by either side.’
‘They’ll never leave us alone anyway, will they? One day they could find us here and a few Jakra kicks and punches won’t be enough to keep us alive.’
‘You can’t fight them all, Jason – even if you had the very best trainers and the years it would take to learn everything. All of us only ever have a chance of survival by working in a team, a really close team, or by being totally hidden. Look at your grandfather – even with all his… fight, he set up home in the remotest place he could find.’
Jason bit back a reply and just grunted. He hated arguing with Dad. ‘We’ve run away and tried to hide for the whole of my life and Miranda’s – it doesn’t work – they always fin
d us,’ he said finally. ‘Why don’t you teach me my Gifts so we can stand and fight?’
‘No, Jason. I won’t be the one to push you into that… that sick world.’
‘Just because you quit, it doesn’t mean I won’t be able to handle it!’ Jason snapped.
Dad’s mouth shut.
‘You’re such a prat, Jason,’ Miranda spat out, leaping to her feet. Dad instantly caught her wrist then gently pulled her back down into her chair. When she looked back up at Jason her eyes were shining but there were no tears. She took a slow breath and continued calmly. ‘You can’t even see when people are watching out for you, can you? Trying to stop you making huge great f…’ she glanced at Dad, ‘… flipping mistakes.’
Jason put down his can and chewed his lip. Miranda was right - he was a prat. Why the hell had he said that about Dad?
‘If I may say something?’ Marakoff looked at Dad who shrugged an assent.
‘I understand your wishes Jason,’ Marakoff said, ‘and your father knows that I would have you learn your Gift and join the Watch but my concern is Alan Brash. He is not the right person to train you. We have warned you already – he has no limits, no boundaries and everyone is a tool to be used by him.’
Ilena spoke up for the first time. ‘You won’t see this at first - he covers his tracks very well, as you say in English. In the Carpathians, all most of us outside his enclave only ever heard rumours of his… methods… there was never any proof.’
‘Tell my dense brother what you told us about Brash.’ Miranda said.
‘One of the rumours,’ Ilena said, ‘was that Brash wasn’t just killing the demons he hunted… he was trying to find a way to control them.’
‘Redeem the possessed person, right?’ Jason asked. ‘Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do only it’s too dangerous for most people?’
‘No, you have not understood,’ Ilena said, dropping her voice. ‘Brash wasn’t trying to remove the demon from the possessed person, he was trying to control the demon inside… just like the Brethren Summoners do.’
‘And you’re sure that’s true,’ Jason asked, ‘that’s definitely the reason they stopped him hunting?’
