When he had found Bermuda on the Otherside.
As Argyle began to replay the memory in his mind, a voice behind broke his concentration.
‘Bad night, eh?’
Argyle turned his neck slightly to see the homeless man they had seen on a number of occasions. The man was soaked through, his filthy clothes glued to his wiry frame. His hair, plastered to his head, ran in uneven clumps, framing a face that needed a wash and a shave.
He was a disgrace.
Argyle eyed him up and down, convinced the man was speaking to the police officers, and returned his gaze to the downpour ahead.
‘Hey. Big man.’ The voice grew. ‘You with the sword.’
Argyle instantly spun round, his blade finely slicing a number of raindrops as they hurtled to the ground. The tramp stumbled backwards, steadying himself before falling.
‘Are you addressing me?’ Argyle’s shadow, cast by the light hanging above him, completely enveloped the man.
‘I’m sorry, I thought you were with that guy, Bermuda.’ The man held his hands up in surrender.
‘I apologise,’ Argyle offered, bowing his head. Being seen as a monster was something he truly hated. ‘I, of course, mean you no harm.’
‘Aye. Good to know.’ The man flashed a toothless grin. ‘The name’s Gordon.’
Argyle grunted a response and turned his attention back to the front door.
Back to his orders.
A gentle cough behind him caused him to turn back.
‘I saw them. The shadow people.’ Gordon rustled in his bag, pulling out a surprisingly clean apple. He sunk his remaining rotting teeth into it, drawing a loud crunch which alerted the officers.
‘The shadow people?’ Argyle questioned.
‘You know. Your kind. The kind normal folks can’t see.’ He took another bite, bits of apple falling into his beard. ‘Aye, there were a number of them.’
‘How many?’ Argyle turned, towering over the informant.
‘Seven. Maybe eight.’ Gordon gestured to the street, indicating where they went. ‘All of ’em had big hoods on, you know? But they weren’t human.’
Argyle’s face tightened, the fury bubbling within him. Despite the BTCO taking him in when he had betrayed the Otherside, Bermuda had been his friend. His orders may have come from them, but his loyalty was with Bermuda. The man may have had zero respect for authority, but Argyle had never met a human with a clearer understanding of right and wrong.
Above all else he was his partner.
His friend.
Gordon took a step forward, standing beside the rain-soaked giant. ‘Argyle, isn’t it?’
The eye contact told him he was correct. The grey, pupilless eyes sent a shudder down his spine.
‘I don’t think they were taking him anywhere nice.’
‘Why do you care?’ Argyle spoke through gritted teeth, his inner turmoil wrestling inside him.
‘I sit on these streets every day telling this world I ain’t crazy.’ Gordon chuckled. ‘For years, no one has listened. Except your pal. Now I can’t do much for anyone. But you can.’
Argyle exhaled before standing up straight. The blade gently swung from its latch, the smooth, polished steel grazing the back of his legs. He reached out his rough hand and placed it on his new acquaintance’s shoulder. Argyle knew with enough focus he could track Bermuda. He did whenever they needed to travel long distances, a skill that always surprised his partner. He had done it a hundred times, but was about to do one thing he had never entertained.
Defy his orders.
‘Thank you.’
Gordon looked up at him in awe, slowly chomping another lump out of the apple. Argyle burst forward with such power that he almost collided with the police officers, who wobbled slightly as he dashed past. They glared at the homeless mess before them, infuriated when all he offered them was a hopeless shrug. Gordon smirked as Argyle raced across the road, whipping between two cars before disappearing into shadows.
At that moment, an old man stormed out of the Premier Inn, his glasses almost slipping from his large nose. He wore a smart, three-piece suit and walked with an air of arrogance that immediately identified him as the one in charge.
‘Argyle?’ Montgomery Black’s accent was thick and welcoming. He looked around vacantly.
‘The big guy with the sword?’ Gordon offered, scraping the scraps from the apple core.
Black hobbled down the steps and approached him with a scowl on his face. ‘Who the hell are you?’
‘Just a handsome stranger.’ Gordon tossed the core back into one of his bags.
The rain began to hammer an agitated Black before a noble-looking creature with a large head and long, thin fingers genuinely floated across with an umbrella.
Gordon nodded at Vincent, who returned with a warm smile.
‘What did you do?’ Black demanded.
‘Me, nothing.’ Gordon turned to walk away. A few taxis slowly veered down the street, a fresh spray of water lifting from their tyres.
Black grabbed Gordon and turned him back. ‘Where is he? What is Argyle doing?’
‘Judging by the look of him…’ Gordon removed Black’s hand and looked at both man and monster. ‘What he does best.’
The damp smell of concrete and moss greeted Bermuda as he slowly regained consciousness, his head beating like a marching band. His eyes blinked a few times, all the dingy colours of his surroundings gradually coming into focus like someone was tuning an old television. He was lying on his front, and the ground beneath him was cold and solid, the concrete stretching all the way to crumbling walls.
Light danced across the room; a few torches had been lit and lodged in the gaps of the brickwork. Six shadows were hazily cast against the wall, and the hooded figures stood still and straight. As Bermuda pushed himself to his knees, he pressed a hand to the back of his skull, the warm claret he retrieved evidence of a head wound.
It hurt like hell.
As he looked around the room, he saw the six hulking creatures, their hoods pulled forward, their entire faces bathed in shadow. Outside, two more stood guard. In the centre of the room, the large stone table stood, the bloodstains still splattered across it. Bermuda knew where he was.
He was in the tomb at the top of the Necropolis.
And he was in deep shit.
‘It’s nice to see you again.’
The voice echoed from behind him, heavy footsteps soon following. He recognised the voice instantly.
Tobias.
‘Yeah, well I wish it was mutual.’ Bermuda did his best to keep the trembling from his voice. He didn’t succeed.
‘It’s okay to be afraid, Agent Jones.’ Tobias walked slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. The skin hung slightly from his fingers. ‘In fact, I would expect you to be.’
Bermuda took stock of his situation, knowing full well with his imminent concussion and the eight hooded bouncers that he had no chance of running.
All he could do was keep Tobias talking.
And hope.
‘Who are you?’
‘Ah, not the best disguise, was it?’ Tobias stopped in front of Bermuda, his offset face twisted in a horrific grin. The skin dropped slightly beneath one eye, a darker grey skin evident. Behind the human teeth, a few sharper, greyer ones revealed themselves. ‘It is a little tight.’
Bermuda watched in horror as Tobias reached a crooked hand to the back of his own head, and like a zip on the back of a dress, he pulled open his own skin. Like a peeled banana, the skin flopped over and dropped onto the floor like Bermuda’s discarded laundry. The inside was a dark red, the remnants of Tobias’s blood.
Human blood.
Bermuda’s mind raced back to his first case, and he shuddered at the brutality of these creatures. Fear dragged him back to his reality. The creature before him was terrifying, his razor teeth pressed together in a vicious smile.
‘I am General Mandrake. Commander of the Eight Warriors of the Legion. I hav
e come to claim he who walks in both worlds.’
Mandrake’s voice echoed powerfully, spoken with the poise of a high-ranking soldier. His face was a dirt grey, cracked with scales. The tip of his skull veered to a point and his eyes were like two yin-yang symbols pinned to the sides of his skull.
While not as tall as Argyle, Mandrake looked just as powerful, his thick arms surrounded by impressive metal that was clearly not of Earth. His metal breast plate shimmered in the firelight, with years of war plastered across it with dents and scuffs. At his side a circular blade hung, the handle embedded within the metal to ensure the entire circumference was used.
This was a creature of death.
Bermuda suddenly didn’t feel like talking. Knowing that his final grains of sand were falling through the hourglass, his eyes searched the tomb, wanting to look anywhere but at the general before him. Mandrake noticed it and suddenly stood to attention, stomping his right foot on the floor.
‘Legion. Recognise your commander.’
With military precision, all six creatures slid their hoods back and Bermuda’s anxiety leapt forward. The two guarding the door slid back their hoods too, the rain gently rattling against their white masks. The flames illuminated their featureless faces, their lack of detail causing the hairs on Bermuda’s neck to stand.
With precision movements, they reached up and one by one they removed their masks. Bermuda saw them, the creatures, for the first time. Their skin, a faded grey, had the sheen of marble. Their eyes, jet-black, stared at him unblinking. A horrible gurgling sound emanated from one of them, through a vertical slit where its mouth was.
These were clearly once feral.
Conditioned to be soldiers, willingly or otherwise.
Bermuda could sense the lust for his blood in the air; the piercing stare of twelve eyes shot through him and out the other side. All of them stood taller than Argyle, clad in all-black armour, a hood slung over one shoulder. All of them had the same rounded blade on their hip, a few had visible swords hanging off the other.
All of them would slay him in a heartbeat.
Bermuda swallowed hard, thinking of his daughter and the ever-decreasing likelihood that he would see her again.
Now that their masks were removed, Mandrake slowly walked a lap of the tomb, the rain sneaking in through the cracks in the walls and splattering against the Legion.
None of them even flinched.
As their commander inspected them, they remained focused on Bermuda, who slowly started to push himself up.
‘I wouldn’t stand,’ Mandrake warned without turning. ‘Never interrupt the inspection. They would take it as a sign of hostility and would remove your head without thinking.’
‘Well, I’m feeling pretty fucking hostile right now.’
‘Of course.’ Mandrake returned to the centre of the tomb, a beam of moonlight shone through the rain and illuminated one side of his face, casting his monstrous shadow over Bermuda. He swung his foot forward planting it firmly against Bermuda’s chest and sending him crashing back into the stone altar.
Bermuda groaned as he collided with the solid brick, his blood joining the collection.
One of the Legion gurgled, the saliva in his throat rotating like a washing machine. Mandrake shook his head. Bermuda looked up at him in confusion.
‘He asked if he can have the honour of killing you when all this is done,’ Mandrake said dismissively. ‘I denied him.’
‘Why’s that then?’ Bermuda sat up, his throbbing head trying its best to give in to gravity. ‘One human enough for you?’
‘Tobias was regrettable. It was quick, however.’
‘Doesn’t matter. It’s still punishable by death.’
‘Ah yes.’ Mandrake’s words were slightly stunted, like a tourist searching for the next word in a second language. ‘These laws that have helped govern our worlds. Let me tell you, I have lived through over a century of the BTCO and your governance. What amazes me is that you do not know the name of my world, do you? You refer to it as “the Otherside”. You don’t know the name of my kind. You label us Others.’ Mandrake squatted down, his bright eyes hooking onto Bermuda. ‘You don’t know how to deal with traitors. You hire them and call them Neithers. Never has a species been more arrogant than the species of man.’
‘Is that what this is all about?’ Bermuda asked, his eyes darting from one soldier to the other. ‘Your hate for humanity? No offence, buddy, but I’ve already done this dance with Barnaby.’
Mandrake struck Bermuda with the back of his hand so fast that Bermuda was trying to figure out what hit him. The material of his glove was as coarse as sandpaper and Bermuda felt the skin ripped from his lip.
‘Don’t you dare speak his name,’ Mandrake hissed. ‘That creature was a treacherous disgrace who slaughtered a number of my soldiers. We spit on his memory. No, this is about taking matters into our own hands and fixing a mistake that your organisation has allowed to go on for too long.’
Bermuda slowly pushed himself back to his knees, his eyes resting on the engravings in the stone. ‘Kevin Parker?’
Mandrake’s laughed told him he was off. ‘His name is not Kevin Parker. His name is Caleb. And how can he be a mistake when I was the one who let him free?’
‘What?’ The revelation hit Bermuda like a sledgehammer to the stomach.
‘Caleb was imprisoned here in this very tomb. He was guarded by Tobias. It was a simple job – the restraints we placed on him were unbreakable, forged within the walls of my city. Your beloved BTCO allowed us to stash him here. Shackled in the dark. He was simply too dangerous to keep in our world.’
‘Due to him looking human?’ Bermuda asked, battling the striking pain in his skull for concentration.
‘Due to him possessing one,’ Mandrake explained. ‘Caleb was a unique creature. When he first came to this world, he carried with him a latch stone. He was soon struck by a carriage, and as he lay dying, he discovered his ability to transfer himself to a human body. A gift, unique, and one never recorded before in the history between both worlds.
‘Over time he learnt to control it, making the possession less destructive to the internal workings of you humans, and began to live as one of you. He killed a number of humans, but each one was a necessary step to perfecting the merge between two species. Years passed, and he became impossible to trace, your organisation failing to act. You didn’t have your precious Oracles then. Eventually he possessed a gentleman called Kevin Parker from the land of America.’
Mandrake shook his head and stood straight again.
Bermuda wiped a trickle of blood that ran from his busted lip. ‘Then what happened?’
‘He did what you humans do. He fell in love. Her name was Cynthia Blaine. She was a dancer at an establishment he frequented. No one of consequence. Not then. They eventually became companions, and he lost himself to humanity. As time went by, he began to believe he existed as one of you. He was Caleb no more. They wished to begin a family, which required our interference. We took her from him.’
‘You killed her,’ Bermuda stated coldly. ‘You killed her and locked him up and now he is fighting back.’
‘Not quite. We couldn’t bring him to our world, and as this was a decommissioned BTCO gateway, we negotiated an imprisonment. When he begged me for her return, I told him he would need to bring me the heart of every woman before he would get to hers again.’ Mandrake’s hideous grin appeared again. ‘It was merely a threat. After nearly a century in the dark, I guess he ended up taking it literally. Confinement for that length of time could send even the strongest creature insane. Eventually he began to plead with me, begging me to release him so he could bring me the hearts of humans. It’s quite sad when you think about it.’
Bermuda shook his head in disgust. ‘So you let him off the leash?’ He glared at the demon before him. ‘Why?’
‘We needed you here.’ Mandrake’s eyes glistened. ‘We needed to put right the mistakes that your organisation failed
to act upon. So I led my squadron to your world through the decommissioned gate and killed Tobias before he could report it. But I needed a reason for them to send you to me. Therefore I released Caleb, and one request to a dear friend later, here you are.’
Bermuda leant forward, challenging Mandrake to meet him at eye level. He accepted gleefully.
‘Innocent women have died because of you. Because of the monster you created and because you set him free,’ Bermuda snarled. ‘You deserve the death that they will sentence you to.’
‘We will end Caleb when we have finished our mission,’ Mandrake stated. ‘The blood of those women is on the hands of the BTCO and their failure to correct the mistake that will be corrected tonight.’
‘What fucking mistake?’ Bermuda yelled, angry as Mandrake turned his back to him.
‘We cannot have one who walks in both worlds.’
‘All of this is for me? To correct me? Well here I fucking am.’
Mandrake turned, his eyes alive with anger. ‘Who said we were here for you?’
Suddenly it fell into place. Bermuda fell back on his knees and stared into nothingness. He tried to recollect all the moments he had spent with Argyle, and was sure he had seen a latch stone – that Argyle needed assistance to serve in our world. As he ran through the archives of his mind, Mandrake stepped towards him, reaching down and lifting his head with a finger under the chin. His gloved touch was ice cold.
‘Argyle betrayed us all when he took you through that gateway.’
Bermuda’s brow furrowed with confusion.
‘But we will have him back with us.’
‘What do you mean?’ Bermuda’s brain darted in several directions, each one a different rail of thought. All he had were questions. ‘Back through the gateway? With me? What the hell are you talking about?’
‘Argyle was my second in command. He himself led this Legion to battle. Many have died by his watch. Whatever you see in him, whatever hero he is made out to be, there is a darkness that reached beyond any shadow of this world. Argyle is a soldier through to the core. He will have his orders from the BTCO to wait for our demands. We will trade your life for his, and once that mistake has been corrected, I will take my punishment with honour.’
The Absent Man Page 25
