by Ian Somers
I grinned when I saw the light from the TV pulsing behind the curtains of the sitting room window. My quarry was trapped. I drew in a deep breath and my electronic throat zinged as the cool evening air passed through it. It was time to unleash my power. It was time to land the first blow against the Guild.
I looked at the undulating and writhing black shape that swirled around my feet and I almost thought of it as a living being.
‘Time for you to do your work, my friend,’ I said with my buzzing voice. I pointed at the front of the house. ‘Clear the way for me.’
The watery snake dashed forward, slipping through the bars of the garden gate then slithering beneath the old car parked in the centre of the paved garden. It oozed up onto the threshold and thinned out so it could slip into the gap around the front door. The water spread throughout the gap then pooled at the handle, putting immense pressure on the lock. The wooden door began to groan under the pressure then the metal lock gave way and broke apart. The door swung open as the rank liquid poured into the hallway.
I casually stepped forward, sending a shot of psychokinetic energy at the gate to open it. I strode through the garden then took a step inside the house. Mr Bentley was standing by the door to the sitting room frowning at the murky spillage on the floor of the hallway. He slowly looked up and took a step backward when he saw me appear in the open doorway.
‘Mr Bentley, I presume?’ My voice was booming in the narrow hallway and made sure I had his full attention. ‘You must forgive this intrusion. I have come to talk with you about your son.’
‘Ross …?’
‘Thank you for saving me some time by confirming your identity.’ I chuckled as I shut the front door behind myself. ‘Should we do this here,’ I looked about the hallway, ‘or shall we sit down, in relative comfort?’
Bentley simply bowed his head then turned despondently to the sitting room. I followed him inside, watching him carefully. He took the TV remote in hand and muted the speakers before he sat in an armchair by the fireplace. I stood in the centre of the floor and took a cursory look around the quaint room. A glass of water began to rattle on the table next to Mr Bentley. My powers were irresistible.
I turned to my reluctant host and smiled. ‘A perfect picture of suburbia. Just as I imagined it would be.’
A chair rolled across the room and stopped behind my knees. I eased myself back into it and sat with my arms folded.
‘I really expected more panic and screaming, fear and pleading, questions and begging – or perhaps just a measure of shock at my appearance, or surprise at my arrival.’
‘It’s no surprise really,’ Bentley replied calmly. ‘I had expected someone like you to appear eventually. The only surprise is that it took so long.’
‘You expected someone like me?’
‘I knew Ross would never be left alone once the world knew what he’s capable of. I knew it from the instant I first saw him use his power. The power-hungry would want to control him and would stop at nothing to get their hands on him. But knowing Ross like I do, he’d repel them and refuse to be their pawn. And so they would finally send some weaker version of him, someone who is content to be a pawn; to hunt him down. So, the answer to your question is yes, I expected someone exactly like you. You’re big and ugly and probably scare most folks, but not me. I used to be a boxer when I was young.’
‘A strange comment.’ I was intrigued by this seemingly fearless man facing me. ‘Might I ask how is boxing relevant?’
‘I was told when I started out as a lad that the fighter to be wary of is the one with the perfect face. He’s usually the one who’s so good that he’s never taken a pounding. The guy with the flat face and the scars is an amateur and takes poundings regularly.’
‘An inaccurate analogy,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I had a perfect face until recently. That changed when I was outnumbered by a gang of gifted brutes. Oh, and you are probably not aware that your son is badly scarred too. Yes, he was cut up pretty badly in a fight recently. By all accounts he was lucky to live through it. That makes your comparison with fighters a little foolish, don’t you think?’
‘Doesn’t change the fact that you’re frightened of my son.’
‘I am not frightened of him.’
‘You are. I saw it in your face when you looked at that picture there.’ Bentley pointed at a framed photograph of Ross standing above the fireplace. ‘There’s fear in your eyes.’
‘I know no fear.’
‘You’re human – despite your appearance – and all humans know fear. You should wear sunglasses if you ever get to face my son, because he’ll see it too.’
‘You confuse hatred for fear.’
‘Why would you hate him?’
‘I have my reasons.’
‘Jealousy?’
‘I have been where he is now and it is not a place I would wish to return to. I have neither envy nor pity for Ross Bentley. Just anger. Loathing.’
‘Yet you don’t face him. You come here and act like a petty thug. That makes you a coward.’
‘Do not misunderstand my presence, Mr Bentley. The only reason I am here is because Ross is hidden from me. But he will reveal himself to protect or avenge those he cares for.’
‘You plan on killing me?’
‘I thought that much was obvious.’
‘I won’t tell you anything that might hurt my son, or give you an advantage over him. I don’t care what you do.’
‘I have not come for information. I know you are not aware of his location. You have only one use to me.’
‘I see.’ Bentley leaned back in his chair and stared me. ‘Why do you hate him so much?’
‘He murdered someone who was precious to me.’
I projected calmness, but inside was a caldron of rage now that my thoughts dwelled on Ania. My eyes must have betrayed what I was feeling and Bentley could see it vividly. It probably terrified him to the core, but he did not want to give me the satisfaction of knowing it, and held his nerve.
‘Your son murdered her in cold blood,’ I continued. ‘She was a child, but he did not spare her.’
‘That’s impossible,’ Bentley argued. ‘Ross isn’t capable of murder.’
‘I have no reason to lie.’
‘Ross isn’t a murderer,’ he insisted. ‘It simply isn’t in him to do something like that. He’s one of the few good guys left in this world.’
‘Then explain why he dropped a car on my thirteen-year-old sister. Her body was smashed to pieces. He did it!’ My inner fire was rising and I banged my fist on the arm of the chair. I had to concentrate hard to maintain control. ‘I wanted to tell you what he did so that you could not go to your grave thinking your offspring is honourable in any way. He is not one of the good guys. He is as corrupt as everyone else.’
‘If I am to go to my grave now, I will take only love for my son with me. Nothing you can say will change that.’
‘How very valiant of you, Mr Bentley. In some ways you remind me of my own father. Would you like to know what happened to him?’
Bentley said nothing.
‘Some merciless people had been trying to convince me to work for them. I refused. I did not want play any part in their business. Their response was to murder my father in a most brutal fashion. I find it fascinating that the father of my nemesis should share my own father’s fate.’
‘Do your worst,’ he said defiantly.
I could not corrupt the father’s love for his son and that frustrated me greatly. The conversation had been for nothing. It was now time to do what I came for. I allowed my inner defences to fall and the Hyper-furens began to influence my thoughts. All I could think of was murder. I sat back and laughed at the helpless man sitting across the sitting room.
‘You will not have the honour of dying on your feet,’ I said. ‘Now, let me show you a glimpse of true power.’
The mass of filthy black water slithered into the room, guided by my invisible power of mageletonia. It
snaked across the floor and rose up into the air like a gymnast’s ribbon.
‘Beautiful, is it not,’ I said as I watched the thin strip of liquid twirling slowly between me and my prey. ‘I give life to this stagnant water and through it I will take life from you. But before I do, I want you to know that I will find your son and I will give him a much slower death than the one I am about to give you.’
The watery serpent suddenly shot across the room. It hit Bentley hard on the bridge of the nose and splattered across his face and shoulders then dashed away in a thousand droplets and was brought together once more. Bentley was still in shock from the initial impact and he could not move as it came back at his face. This time it did not strike him. It arrowed into his mouth and poured into his throat. There it came to a stop. It did not budge no matter what he did. It could not be shifted. He crumbled to his knees clutching at his neck. The black water searched further inside and filled his lungs.
He crept off the seat and tried to reach me but I was blocking the way with a psychokinetic shield.
‘I am sure you would like to kill me,’ I said, ‘but you cannot beat the devil at his own game.’
Bentley flailed wildly on the carpet in front of the fireplace. There was no way to save himself. I held the putrid liquid in his lungs and slowly he drowned. It was a horrible and drawn out death, but also an eerily silent one; there was hardly a sound as he died. I drew some pleasure from murdering Bentley’s father. Ultimately, though, I was left unfulfilled.
It would take time for my nemesis to learn of what had just happened. I wondered what Ross’s reaction would be when he got news of his father’s death.
‘I hope it makes you angry,’ I said, as if Ross could hear me. ‘I hope it makes you insane with anger. I hope that anger makes you as powerful as you can be. It will make it even more rewarding when I beat you when we are finally face to face.’
I left the lifeless figure on the floor, a pool a dark liquid pouring from his mouth and staining the carpet. I paced up the stairs and found the room that had belonged to Ross. I sat there for a long time. I wanted to get a feel for who Ross Bentley really was, but nothing in the room indicated he was anything other than a normal teenager. I thought that I might have had a room like this when I was in his teenage years if I had not been tracked down by the agents of The Eastern Shadow. Everything in my life led back to that moment, when they had smashed their way into my apartment and beat me up, shot my mother and father then put a gun to my infant sister’s face. Even as a child I showed little emotion, but there was something in Ania’s eyes that forced me to give into their demands. I went with them so that I could give Ania a chance in life. I then sided with the Guild for her. I killed Cramer and the others so Ania would not harm herself. I had hunted the young prophet down so Ania could have a future. My entire life was dominated by the connection with my sister. A connection that Ross Bentley had broken. Ross had made my life a pointless one. Was there a greater injury to suffer? Could I make my enemy suffer just as much?
‘I will try,’ I told myself. ‘I will try.’
It was raining hard outside.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The Enemy Revealed
We stayed at the sanctuary the whole evening and didn’t return to the Williams estate until around 4am. Argento had amazed me with his human-like intelligence and it was easy to see why Cathy liked to spend time with him. He even managed to play chess with me. Although I wouldn’t play him again; he was a sore loser and smashed the board then chewed on my king piece. There was still a wild animal behind the intelligence he displayed.
When we got back to the house I thought this would be a perfect opportunity to ask Cathy to spend some time together. I didn’t get the chance, though. Mr Williams appeared at his bedroom door when we reached the top of the stair and said, ‘I hope you filled the tank with petrol. It’s the least you could do after stealing Portman’s car.’
He hadn’t been serious and gave a tired laugh. He remained there until Cathy and I went our separate ways. I was asleep moments after my head hit the pillow and was grateful that I was not awoken by Sarah’s screams. I woke up after midday, on hearing the door bell ring twice in quick succession. There were excited voices downstairs. Not excited enough to get me out of bed, though. I eventually rolled off the mattress around 1pm and went to the bathroom for a long shower. I took my time getting dressed then sauntered down the stair to find the house had fallen silent. I ducked into the sitting room then went through to the grand dining room. Both were empty. I walked to the kitchen then heard the muffled voices from outside. I looked out the small window above the sink and saw everyone gathered on the patio. Mr Williams was seated at the round outdoor table, most of the others were standing nearby, and Angela Portman had her arm around Cathy’s shoulders – which I thought was rather odd. There was a sadness in Cathy’s eyes and I knew something was wrong. The I saw the tall figure of Dominic Ballentine standing next to the Hunter by the steps to the lawn. It was obvious he had arrived with some bad news.
I went to the sliding doors and pulled them open; everyone went quiet and turned to me. They had a stunned look about them. They were watching me, yet no one wanted to make eye contact.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked, walking from the house onto the patio. I looked at my girlfriend. ‘Cathy, what’s wrong?’
She tried to speak but couldn’t get any words out.
Hunter then spoke up. ‘Bentley,’ his voice wavered slightly, ‘there has been er …’ His lips quivered and he raised his hand to his face to hide it. He sucked in a deep breath and cleared his throat, but didn’t speak again. He looked close to tears. What on earth could have happened to reduce this hardened man to an emotional wreck?
‘Do you remember me, Ross?’ Ballentine asked. ‘We met once before.’
‘Yeah,’ I replied. ‘You were here when Romand was buried. Unfortunately I remember every detail of that dreadful day.’
‘As do I,’ he gave me a sympathetic smile that faded too fast for my liking. ‘Could I ask you for a small favour?’
‘What is it?’ I replied cautiously. The entire scene was becoming surreal and I wanted someone to tell me what the hell was going on.
‘I ask only that you would step off the patio and onto the lawn.’
‘What for?’
‘It will become clear in a moment.’
I reluctantly did as he asked and marched through the gathering and down the stone steps. Ballentine was right behind me. He remained at the top step and looked down on me as I reached the grass and turned to look up at him.
‘What the hell is going on?’ I asked, my voice rasping with annoyance. ‘Out with it?’
‘I came here today for two reasons,’ Ballentine said evenly. ‘The first to deliver some very bad news. The second is to protect my colleagues,’ he nodded with the back of his head to indicate the others. It seemed strange that he didn’t include me.
‘Protect them from whom?’
‘From you.’
‘These people are my friends. Why in God’s name would I harm them?’
‘Unintentionally, of course.’ He tried to smile, but it looked like pity to me. ‘You see, Ross, I am also a psychokinetic and my particular forte is dome building. You may know this skill as defensive shields.’ He raised his arms in the air and I knew from experience that he was creating a shield. I guessed he was building one around the patio in order to protect everyone who was standing on it. ‘Unfortunately you are too powerful and too reckless to be around when you receive bad news. You will have to stand alone in your darkest hour. Tragically, this is one of the downsides to having a pure gift.’
‘What is it, Ballentine?’ I shouted. ‘What’s happened?’
‘I received word this morning that your father has died.’
Those four words … your father has died … they hit me like four bullets in the heart. Time seemed to stand still and I found it near impossible to draw breath. I didn’t want
to believe it. I could not believe it. There had to be some mistake.
‘No. You’ve got your wires crossed or something. My dad is still a young man. He’s very healthy. He’s strong as an ox. There’s no way he could have died. You must have him confused with someone else of the same name.’
‘There is no confusion, Ross. I am terribly sorry.’
‘It can’t be him!’ I roared. My body began to tremble as my emotions ran out of control. One of the steps leading to the patio cracked in half. ‘He was too young and healthy to die! How could he have died?’
The others backed up towards the house as the next of the granite steps shattered. Hunter sat by the table and held his face in his hands.
‘We are certain it was your father, Ross,’ Ballentine said. ‘We are certain because of the way he died.’
‘What?’ I walked up the steps, but bounced off the invisible shield he had created. I stormed around the bottom of the raised patio. ‘What are you trying to say?’
‘This will come as a great shock. Prepare yourself.’
‘I’m prepared, damn it. Tell me!’
‘Your father drowned. He drowned, although he was in the sitting room of his home. There was little trace of fluid in the room.’
I looked at Hunter and he looked back and gave me a nod. It was the same fate that those poor souls in Newcastle had met.
‘Hunter, is this true?’
‘It is,’ he replied solemnly.
‘Zalech?’ I asked Ballentine.
‘We believe so. Somehow he has survived. He lives on – as do his murderous tendencies.’
I hunched over as the realisation of what had happened to Dad struck me. I had seen firsthand how Zalech’s victims had died. It was a horrendous and excruciating death. A cowardly way to end a life and one that was not quick or merciful. Dad had probably suffered terribly at his hands before he died. I fell to my knees and dashed the tears from my eyes with the palms of my hands.
