by Alan Baxter
Silhouette laughed heartily, her blonde hair swaying with her mirth. ‘Even his? He was little more than a conjuror.’ At Alex’s confused expression she waved a hand. ‘Never mind, go on.’
‘Welby knew about this book and he couldn’t read it. The whole thing is written in an eldritch text that no one could decipher. Welby thought I would be able to read it.’
‘And?’
‘He was right.’
‘Really? Well, well. Aren’t you the prodigy.’
‘I wish I wasn’t.’
Silhouette leaned back on her hands, legs still crossed. Alex couldn’t help his gaze roving over her flat stomach, the generous swell of her breasts, her lithely muscled shoulders. He flicked his eyes away, catching sight of her half-smile as he did so. ‘So what happened between you reading this book and the mayhem here last night?’ she asked.
‘I read the book and it sort of attached itself to me. I didn’t take it, but when I left I had it in my pocket. I tried to give it to Welby and leave and it reappeared. I can’t get rid of it. I tried to take it back to Peacock, but he’d already sent those fucking monsters here thinking Welby had stolen it.’
Silhouette offered no comment. She sat stock still, eyes narrowed. ‘And,’ she said quietly.
‘Welby seemed to think the book and this stone he had were connected. That’s all I know.’
‘The locket you took from him right before the fight?’
Alex nodded. ‘Wait a minute! You saw that and you didn’t help me?’
‘I wanted to see how you did. I might have stepped in if you were in danger of losing.’
‘Might have?’
She gave him a condescending look. ‘I don’t owe you anything, Alex Caine.’
That cut a little. ‘So why are you here now?’
‘I’m here because you fascinate me,’ she said. ‘You’re so young and green and completely unaware of what’s going on around you, yet you have an unusual power. Now you have that stone too, which only makes you stronger. The combination of strength, youth and ignorance can be a dangerous thing.’
Alex felt mildly offended. He was well aware of his ignorance in this world rapidly unfolding around him, but Silhouette did him a disservice. ‘You call me young. What are you? You look about twenty-four, twenty-five, but I’m guessing you’re not.’
Her face softened, her crooked smile returning. Alex reddened. ‘Have a look,’ she said.
His heart rate increased. He let his vision slip over her, gently seeking past the shields she held so naturally. She let him look a certain distance while keeping the majority of herself concealed. He felt like a schoolboy, allowed to put his hand under the blouse of his girlfriend behind the bike sheds. With a sharp intake of breath he sat back, pulling his vision away. ‘You’re …’
‘Older than Welby? Yes. You see what I mean about youth and ignorance?’
‘Sorry.’
‘It’s okay.’
Alex was confused again, unsure now how to interact with this girl. She was young and beautiful, yet also ancient. ‘Sorry,’ he said again, for want of anything else to say.
‘Just carry on as before,’ she said. ‘You were doing fine.’ Her face became serious again. ‘But we need to get back to the point. You said Welby felt the book and his stone were connected. You could read the book. What was it called?’
‘The Darak Uthentia …’
Silhouette’s hardening expression gave Alex pause. It appeared he didn’t need to explain any more. ‘And this is the book that’s bound to you?’ she asked.
‘Yeah. And the stone …’
She waved a hand at him. ‘I can imagine. Well, you’re certainly in the shit.’
‘Am I?’
‘You know you are. Don’t you?’
Alex looked down at his feet. ‘Yeah. I don’t know what to do.’
‘Did Welby set you up for this? I didn’t think the old poof had it in him.’
Alex sighed expansively. ‘No. At least, he claimed not. He got the stone, I don’t know how, and the stone led him to the book, but he couldn’t read it. He had his suspicions but he seemed genuinely sorry when he realised what had happened.’
Silhouette made a wry face. ‘Hmm. Little more than a conjuror, see? For all his studies, he wasn’t very smart.’
‘So what do I do?’
Silhouette stared hard at Alex. After a while he became uncomfortable, his cheeks flushing, but he refused to look away. ‘You’re a hard-arse, huh?’
He didn’t know if she was mocking him or not. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re a fighter — that much is obvious from what I saw last night. Is that all you do?’
‘Pretty much. I’m good at it, it makes me a solid living. I like to fight and I like the peace and quiet I earn between bouts.’
‘Your life has just flipped arse upwards, young Alex.’ She seemed genuinely sorry for him.
‘I know.’ He was desperate for this strange girl to help him. He needed someone to tell him what to do.
‘I don’t think I can help you,’ she said softly.
‘What?’
‘There’s so much you don’t understand and I think you’re too deep too soon. I can’t help you.’
Alex could feel himself trembling. He cursed his weakness. ‘Please,’ he said. ‘I don’t want any of this.’
Silhouette sat forward, taking his hand in hers. Her touch felt warm and electric, her fingers strong and soft at the same time. ‘Something tempted you.’
‘Tempted me?’
‘There’s always choice.’
He thought back to the dressing room in Sydney. The goons in the alley, Welby’s magic trick with the water, the element grimoire, his car at the hotel, the airport. His hand had been forced by Scarlet but he had been seduced all the way by Welby and what he might learn. He could have gone anywhere while Amir did his thing, but he’d followed Welby to London, intrigued. In his gut he’d mistrusted the man, but had let himself be dragged along. ‘I knew better,’ he said, his voice weak.
‘Then it was too late.’
He looked into the ice blue eyes under her blonde fringe. ‘Please help me!’
She looked down at their hands. ‘Alex, I really don’t think I can. But maybe my Clan Lord can.’
‘Clan Lord?’
She looked up again, that crooked smile making his stomach flutter. ‘You think you’ve seen a lot already? You better brace yourself. And I need to warn you, you’ll have to earn the right to talk to my Lord.’
Alex was happy for any thread of hope. ‘Sure, sure. If there’s someone who can help —’
‘It might kill you,’ she interrupted.
‘Kill me?’
‘I’m being honest with you. My Clan Lord might be able to help, but to find out might kill you.’
Did he really need to go through with any of this? He couldn’t give the book back to Peacock, so would that old fucker keep sending creatures like gargoyles after him? If the buck stopped with Peacock, then a path seemed clear. And he owed some kind of vengeance to Welby, surely. If he couldn’t get rid of the book, and the only real issue was Peacock, then take Peacock out of the picture and put the book on a shelf somewhere and forget about it. The thing hung heavy in his pocket. He got a sensation of warmth, almost as if it approved of his train of thought. He sensed it cajoling him, urging him on.
He looked up into Silhouette’s eyes. ‘Can you try to help me first?’
‘You got an idea? Call me crazy, but I kinda like you. I should warn you that you might not like me so much, the more you learn.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. My history might not sit well with you.’
That wasn’t something he wanted to consider just yet. ‘Well, you’ve done the right thing by me so far. I’m happy to leave it at that for the time being. Especially if you help me.’
She laughed. ‘Cute. What are you thinking?’
‘Well, I can’t get rid of this thing. Peacock
is the only one who knows about it now Welby’s dead. Before Peacock sends any more fucking monsters after me, I’m going to kill him.’ He said it so easily the words shocked him. ‘Peacock murdered Patrick and nearly killed me, so fuck him, right? Kill Peacock and end it there. Forget about the book and get on with my life.’
Silhouette grinned at him. ‘I really don’t think it’s going to be anything like that simple, but it’s certainly a bloody good place to start. And it takes care of at least one loose end.’
‘So you’ll help me?’
‘I don’t think you’ll need any help, but sure. I’ll come along. Be a shame to miss a good revenge slaying.’
Alex frowned. ‘You’re pretty dark, you know that?’
Silhouette flicked him a wink and stood. ‘Alex Caine, you have no idea.’
7
The street outside Peacock’s shop was quiet in the wan autumn sunshine. Alex and Silhouette stood on cold cobbles, staring at the black painted door.
‘So what’s the plan?’ Silhouette peered up at Alex from under her fringe. She was only a couple of inches shorter than his six feet, yet she deliberately taunted him.
Her icy eyes teased him, had him imagining the parts of her he couldn’t see. ‘Not sure,’ he said. She did that half-smile thing again and Alex looked away. He needed to focus and she was playing with him. ‘I suppose,’ he said, ‘I’ll just walk in there and smash the fucker.’ He felt heat swell out from the book in his pocket. The pendant around his neck remained warm constantly, like a tiny hand lying against his skin.
‘You ever done anything like this before?’
He laughed. ‘Stroll into someone’s place and kill them in cold blood? Funnily enough, no. This’ll be a first for me.’
‘You seem quite collected, all things considered.’
He did feel calm. ‘It’s the right thing to do. I’m protecting myself and avenging Welby. The rules of my life have changed.’
‘You really need to avenge Welby?’
‘I thought you were all for a good revenge slaying?’
‘Oh, I am. I love a good killing. But it seems like you’re making some major changes here.’
Alex pursed his lips, thinking. ‘Yeah,’ he said eventually. ‘I’m taking control back.’
Silhouette seemed to accept that. ‘Fair enough. Can I offer some advice?’
‘Definitely.’
‘This place is wrapped in all kinds of magic which I’m guessing includes alarms and security. I suggest you don’t make a meal of this. Get in there, use your familiarity to get close and take him out quickly.’
‘Cold.’
‘But effective.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘Hesitation will kill you, Alex.’
He watched her for a moment. ‘Why are you helping me?’
‘Call it a weakness of character.’ She looked away. ‘That’s what my Clan would tell you.’
Alex turned back to the door, took a deep breath. ‘You coming in?’
‘No, I’ll make him suspicious. I’ll be right here. If things turn ugly, I’ll help if I can.’
Alex nodded and rapped on the door. After a moment he knocked on one glass panel of the window and called out, ‘Peacock, open up. It’s me.’ He felt reluctant to yell out his name. He wondered briefly about cameras but quickly put the thought out of his mind. He hadn’t seen any before in the shop and it seemed unlikely Peacock would have technology along with all the magical countermeasures he had in place. It wouldn’t hurt to check once inside, but the truth was he didn’t care. Something nagged at the back of his mind. Why don’t I care?
The curtain at the back shifted and Peacock shuffled nervously into the shop. ‘What do you want?’ he called out, voice betraying his fear.
‘We need to talk, Peacock.’
‘Welby?’
Alex decided honesty was the best policy. ‘Dead. Thanks to you. Me too, nearly.’
‘Nearly? You faced my gargoyles?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I wondered why they weren’t back yet.’
Alex laughed without humour. ‘They aren’t coming.’
Peacock shook his head, eyes downcast. ‘Bloody hell.’ He looked up sharply. ‘You have any idea what it costs to bind gargoyles?’
Alex was stunned. With everything else happening this old fuck was complaining about cost? ‘You have any idea how little I care about that? Call it a fee for killing Welby.’
Peacock waved his hands. ‘Stop yelling that stuff in the street, boy! What’s wrong with you?’
Alex pounded on the window. ‘Open the fucking door then. We need to talk.’
Peacock retreated, shaking his head. ‘No. Not a chance. You’re not here to talk. You still have my book and I can’t get it back, can I? And you destroyed my gargoyles. I’m calling it quits right here. I fold. Go away.’
A red rage swelled up in Alex’s chest. The stone and book vibrated in harmony with each other, crying out for Peacock’s death. With a roar of fury Alex lifted his knee and hammered out a kick at the shop door, letting the power of the Darak flow through him. The door exploded in a shower of wood shards and splinters. He heard Silhouette gasp, out of sight somewhere beside him.
Peacock squealed like a child and hurried towards the curtain. Alex felt the wards popping up as the despicable little man ran, shadowy films of magic swelling into existence. He dropped his own shields completely, let his presence, his own magic, flood out. He opened his vision and saw every ward and drove his ’sign, his very will, into all the gaps between them. As he strode into the shop, Peacock’s shields flexed and burst, colours and shades popping and spinning away. Peacock cried out, diving through the curtain.
Alex ripped the curtain away in time to see Peacock stand up behind his desk, the malevolent anodised steel of a revolver rising up with him.
Alex watched the colours, calm, collected. He focused his rage and let it merge with the stone against his chest. He could see everything, every intent. Peacock began pumping the trigger of the pistol, the gunshots deafening in the enclosed space. Alex ducked and turned, moving more quickly than Peacock could adjust his aim. The little man managed to squeeze off four shots as Alex covered the space between the ruined curtain and the desk. He felt the heat of each shot passing, but knew none would touch him.
He slapped the gun aside. As Peacock whimpered, his mouth flapping almost silently, Alex put one palm behind the old man’s head. He raised his other hand and drove iron-hard fingers through Peacock’s eyes. The hot warmth of grey matter and blood burst over his hand and he stepped aside to avoid the gout of gore as he pulled his fingers free. Peacock slumped, his head bounced once off the corner of his desk with a sick crack, and he rolled to the floor on his back. Dark, thick blood and brains oozed from the black orifices where his eyes used to be.
Alex stood panting, rushing from the flood of power coursing through him. The exhilaration was orgasmic, firing neurons all over his body. He took long, strong breaths in through his nose, forcing himself to settle, drawing his shields back tight. He felt the book in his pocket, throbbing with thick waves of exultation, revelling in the death.
‘Well, fuck me.’
He turned and saw Silhouette standing in the doorway, hands on her hips. He’d done what he had said he would, removed the threat of Peacock from his life. And avenged Welby, for whatever that was worth.
Silhouette walked around him to look down at the corpse of Peacock. ‘That was quite impressive,’ she said, crouching. ‘The way you dodged and everything. I’m genuinely impressed here.’
‘I’m glad.’
‘No, seriously. Do you have any idea how hard it is to impress me?’
Alex concentrated on his breathing. The energy began to calm within him, settling back to a more normal level. He heard a slurping sound.
Silhouette crouched low over Peacock’s body, lapping at one ruined eye socket. Alex staggered back, horrified. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’
&n
bsp; The blue of her eyes had given way to a swirling black, shining and infinite. Blood stained her lips. Even through his horror Alex was aroused by the sheer primal beauty of her. ‘I told you I had a history, Alex.’
‘As a fucking vampire?’
‘I’m not a vampire. Though some of us choose to live that way. I figured it was only fair to make sure you knew exactly who I was. Besides, I couldn’t resist this, still thick with the adrenaline of fear.’
Alex came up sharp against a wall behind him. He stared at Silhouette, his bile rising as she bent back over the corpse, drinking again. ‘What are you?’
She licked her lips. Alex wasn’t sure whether what she did or the fact that it turned him on disgusted him more. ‘I’m Kin, sweetheart.’
Alex ran from the bookshop and turned down the road. He had no idea where he was going. Away, simple as that. She drank Peacock’s blood, right out of the empty socket! He was shocked, but it perturbed him more that he wasn’t as horrified as he would have expected. And part of him remained strongly attracted to this creature, whatever she was. When would he get a chance to catch up? When would his world stop spinning over and over and let him take stock?
He turned out into a busy street, people bustling back and forth, consumed with the normality of their daily lives. Unaware of magi and blood-drinking women. Blissfully unaware of books that wanted to be owned and stones that made people powerful enough to explode a solid oak door with a single kick.
He struggled for breath as he grappled with everything flooding his mind. He’d killed a man. An arsehole, to be sure, but he had walked into that man’s space and murdered him, in cold blood. Worse, he’d enjoyed it. His hands shook, his knees were weak. The stone burned against his chest, its power coursing through him, almost as if it tried to console him. The book felt different, like it approved of the killing and tried to make Alex proud of it. It radiated dark glee. How could a book and a stone make him feel anything?
He bumped into a group of young punks gathered on a street corner, hair spiked and attitudes keenly tuned to disapproval.
One stumbled as Alex barged through. ‘Fucking watch it, ya cunt!’ the punk said, punctuating the sentence with a half-smoked cigarette.
