by Alan Baxter
‘I’m not sure. I dunno …’
‘Damn it, Alex, concentrate!’ She opened her shields again.
Alex watched nothing but the mechanics of her magic, studied the way she manipulated her own ’sign and controlled it. He resisted the urge to enjoy the show, remained clinical in his observation. She slammed everything shut once more, like the way he had learned to conceal his true self, the trick he’d learned from Welby. Only Welby’s method was a cardboard box to Silhouette’s cast-iron safe.
‘Can you see it?’ she asked.
He nodded, trying to apply her methods. He used his mind as a cloak, wrapping himself up in the security of ordinary nothingness.
‘That’s it,’ Silhouette’s voice hissed, muffled by the tinny headphones. ‘Tighter. Lock everything up.’
He did as she asked, closing off from outside of himself. Every time he learned something he had barely got used to it before he discovered it could be deeper, stronger, better. It felt good. Safe. Silhouette nodded, her face finally relaxing. ‘That’s it,’ she said. ‘That needs to be your natural state.’
The pilot looked over his shoulder, his expression confused and a little concerned. Silhouette raised one eyebrow, challenging. He shrugged, flicked them a quick apologetic smile and turned back to face the horizon.
Alex let the feeling settle into his bones, set it to default. He shifted the headset, leaning close to talk directly to Silhouette. ‘What just happened?’ he asked, not sure he really wanted to know.
Silhouette frowned. ‘I think whatever attacked us back in London is trying to track you down again. Remember how Meera found us? She talked about your mind-print?’
‘But I was there when Petra looked inside me. In Joseph’s quarters, I felt her. I’ve felt nothing else like that.’
‘Well, it would appear whatever attacked us was able to do the same without you noticing. It must have watched us somewhere before it attacked. Now it has your print, a psychic signature that drifts in the ether. Either he’s a dreamweaver or he’s got one on the case.’
‘A dreamweaver?’
‘I can’t think of anything else it would be. Fuck me, but it’s strong, whatever it is. Tracking you down over half the planet? That’s incredible. It obviously has quite a gift.’
‘So he’s going to come for us again.’
Silhouette didn’t answer, but her expression confirmed his fear.
The dreamweaver opened her eyes in the smoky gloom, a sharp tongue flicking across dry lips. She rubbed withered hands across her deeply wrinkled face. ‘He’s gone again.’
The Subcontractor cursed in an old, foul tongue. ‘Did you get anything?’
The old crone shifted in her seat, settling back. ‘Not much. They were off the ground again. Seems he only sleeps while he’s flying.’
‘What did you get?’
The woman turned to an ancient, yellowing globe. ‘When I found him before, he was around here somewhere.’ She stabbed at the globe with one blackened nail. ‘This time, somewhere around here.’
The Subcontractor tried to breathe as shallowly as possible, disgusted by the rank closeness of the dreamweaver’s home. ‘They must have used commercial airlines first, to get that far so quickly. You think he was sleeping again on the same flight?’
The dreamweaver shook her head, lank, greasy hair, grey like lead pipe, dancing over her sunken eyes. ‘No. The environment around him felt different.’
They’d changed flights, so they must have landed somewhere. Given what this crone told him there weren’t many options for where they had landed. He stared at the globe, his eyes coming to rest on Halifax. It felt right. He couldn’t keep wasting time waiting for his quarry to sleep. Go to Halifax and sniff out the trail again from there. If he couldn’t pick up the trail … well, he’d have to think of something else.
Hood’s scrawny bird kept coming and going, reporting back. He could smell it outside again. Perhaps he should report himself, let Hood know the price was rising rapidly.
‘Thank you.’ He stood, handed a roll of bills to the old dreamweaver and left. The fresh air outside felt like a cold shower on a hot day. He pulled a phone from his pocket and dialled.
‘Black Diamond Incorporated, how may I help you?’
‘I need to talk with Hood.’
‘I’m afraid Mr Hood …’
‘Tell Hood it’s the Subcontractor and I need to talk to him right now.’
The line clicked and muzak piped through. Within moments the line clicked again. ‘What are you doing sitting around?’
The Subcontractor abhorred such rudeness. One day the contract would come in from someone requiring his services to take out this pompous fool. That job couldn’t happen soon enough. ‘Hello to you too, Mr Hood. Suffice to say this job is more complicated than first thought. They’re a slippery pair. The cost is going up.’
Hood barked down the line. ‘Because of your incompetence you’re going to charge me more?’
‘You want them dead or not? You want what they’re carrying or not?’ He knew his employer. Once he’d decided on having something, he simply could not let it go. Like a dog with its jaws locked on a rabbit, the man would not leave off till the twitching stopped.
‘Yes, I want it! Get on with the job, damn the expense. But don’t drag this out!’
The Subcontractor clenched his teeth. ‘You insult me.’ He hung up before Hood could shout back at him.
Gathering his energy he let space bend and fold around him. This trail would be hot again in no time. As the realms shifted, making a space for him to slip through, the featherless raven-like creature swept down, eyeing him closely. Not of this world itself, the macabre thing read the realmshift. As the Subcontractor dematerialised and vanished, the planesbird cawed and followed.
15
Their pilot’s annoyance grew with his impatience. ‘We’re running out of light and fuel equally fast,’ Daley said, his voice gruff. ‘We’re gonna pitch into the drink or crash land in the dark if we don’t turn back soon.’
Silhouette squeezed his shoulder. ‘Bear with us just a bit longer, please?’ She turned to Alex. ‘Anything?’
‘No, I can only see water everywhere I … wait a minute.’ He twisted in the seat, trying to see back behind the plane.
‘Turn about,’ Silhouette said to Daley. ‘One-eighty, please.’
The pilot grunted and cranked the stick over. The plane lurched and wing-tipped. Alex ignored the unpleasant lift in his gut and scrambled across Silhouette’s lap to look out the other side as they came around. ‘There!’ He pointed. ‘Can you see it? Like a craggy, kinda teardrop shape?’
Silhouette leaned in close to the window, straining to see. ‘I can’t see anything. You’re sure you can see it?’
‘Definitely.’
‘Jim, can you please log these co-ordinates?’
‘Can we go home then?’
Silhouette smiled at him, disarmingly sweet. ‘Yes, Jim. Thank you so much.’
Daley rolled his eyes. He scribbled something into a notebook on his console and cranked the stick again, powering up and away.
Silhouette squeezed Alex’s hand. ‘Nice going.’
He didn’t share her enthusiasm. ‘You really think that’s it?’
‘It’s an island in about the right location that I can’t see. That makes it well warded. It also makes it a pretty solid candidate for what we’re looking for.’
‘But I didn’t try anything particular to see it. It was just there.’
‘To you, maybe. Don’t worry, love. I think we’re onto something here.’
Love? Maybe she was genuinely into him. If he could get this stone together and become as powerful as the others thought he would, then maybe he would actually be worthy of someone like her. And if he mastered the magic and learned to use it, maybe he would live long enough to enjoy her company. Welby had looked pretty good for nearly one and a half centuries, seemingly a very healthy man in his sixties. The magic tends
to preserve us. But he had been fairly insignificant according to the Kin. Silhouette appeared no more than twenty-five and she was far older than Welby. His train of thought disturbed him. Mastering magic and living for centuries to enjoy the love of a monster? Paradigm shift didn’t begin to cover it.
Silhouette stroked his cheek. ‘What are you thinking?’ There was a softness in her eyes.
‘Just trying to get my head around it all.’
‘You’ll be all right, Alex. You’re doing pretty well.’
‘I wish I had your confidence.’
She planted a kiss on his lips, hot and firm. ‘Trust me.’
Standing on the apron at the tiny airstrip outside Bonavista, Jim Daley frowned. A technician chewed lazily while he refuelled the aircraft. ‘I hate flying at night,’ Daley said.
Alex scanned the darkening sky, deep inky blue behind dark grey clouds. ‘Do you have to be back anywhere in particular?’
‘Nah. My wife left me years ago. All I got to go back to is shitty TV and a can of beans.’
Alex sighed. He felt as though he owed something to this guy. He was earning from it, but he had been gracious about their weird requests and asked very few questions. ‘How about you ride with us into Bonavista and I’ll cover the cost of a meal and a room for you? You can get back out here early and fly home in the light.’
Daley grinned broadly. ‘Very kind of you, pal. Thanks.’
Alex felt like he’d just been played.
The airstrip technician called them a cab from Bonavista and the cab driver drove them to a shabby hotel. It was cold, close to freezing, as they piled into the hotel lobby and organised rooms. Alex’s concern that they might have trouble finding a place to stay was quickly allayed.
‘You’ve got to be kidding!’ The hotel clerk laughed, her enormous bosom shaking over an even bigger stomach. ‘People are leaving this island like rats on the proverbial ship. There’s less than four thousand people left here now and we’re hardly a prime holiday destination, especially this close to winter.’
Alex smiled, feeling foolish. He also wanted to punch the woman out and had no idea why. He bit down on the urge. ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise.’
‘You here on holiday then?’
‘No, er, not holiday. Sort of a business trip.’
‘Right. What’s your business?’
Silhouette interrupted them. ‘Does the double room have a bathroom? Like with an actual bath?’
The clerk stared at Alex for a second longer then turned to Silhouette. ‘It can have, if that’s what you want.’
Sil smiled her disarming smile. ‘That would be awesome. I’d love a nice hot bath.’
The clerk handed over two sets of keys. ‘Single for you. Double, with a bath, for you guys.’
‘Thanks! Come on, Alex.’ Silhouette dragged him away. ‘Before she asks any more questions,’ she hissed in his ear as they went. At the foot of the stairs she turned back. ‘That place over the road, does it serve good food?’
The clerk raised her hands slightly. ‘It serves food.’
‘Cool. Jimbo, we’ll see you over there in an hour?’
The pilot nodded. ‘Sure.’
In the room upstairs Silhouette locked the door and turned Alex, forcing him to sit on the bed. ‘You okay?’
‘Why?’ He could hear the impatience in his voice, felt a sense of frustration knotting his gut.
‘You’re … buzzing.’
Alex ground his teeth. ‘You noticed that, huh?’
‘Yeah. Kinda hard to miss. And the last couple of minutes it’s got a lot more noticeable.’
‘It’s been building up in me for a while. Since I spotted the island, maybe. Certainly since we got here. I feel like I need to smash something, or someone. I want to break things, or fight or … or …’ His heart started pounding, the adrenaline in his system hard to control.
‘Or fuck someone?’ Silhouette’s eyes gleamed.
With a visceral growl Alex lifted her and spun her onto the bed, tearing at her belt. She worked with him, doing her best to save her clothing as they both got naked as quickly as possible. ‘Come on then, Iron Balls.’ Her eyes flashed with golden slits, her teeth lengthening slightly then retracting again. ‘What have you got?’
Alex almost howled, smothering the need by kissing her hard.
The mattress hung half off the bed, the sheet torn in two. Alex and Silhouette sat on opposite sides of the room, soaked in sweat, gasping for air. Alex shook all over. Silhouette smiled darkly. ‘Man, you fuck like a Kin.’
Alex grunted. ‘That a good thing?’
‘Depends. In this case, yes it is.’
‘I nearly killed you again.’
‘Don’t flatter yourself.’
‘I really wanted to.’ He hated himself for it.
‘I know. We’ll manage this. If this is how we help to control the bloodlust the book gives you, then that’s no bad thing.’
Alex’s heart slowly returned to something like a normal pace. The primitive frustration that had been building in him eased with it. ‘What if I get the better of you though? What if you can’t stop me one time?’
Silhouette laughed. ‘Oh, Alex, you’re sweet. But I’m perfectly safe.’
‘Are you? Really? I killed Ataro, and Joseph said he had never been bested. Ataro couldn’t beat me when I really meant it. Do you have better stopping power?’
Silhouette became serious. ‘Maybe not. And there’s no way I’m as strong as Ataro. But there’s a big old human part of you that doesn’t really want to kill me, right?’
‘Well, yeah, but …’
‘But nothing. You hang on to that part however much the bloodlust is on you and I’ll take my chances.’
‘I hope we can control this.’ He wanted her to be right, that he could keep hold of the part that had deserted him when he’d fought in her Den.
Silhouette headed for the bathroom. ‘Come on. Jim’ll be waiting for us.’
They managed to eat a half-decent meal and enjoy a few beers with the pilot without talking about anything in particular. Having company prevented them from talking about what was really happening and turned out to be a good distraction. By the time they returned to the hotel Alex felt a lot less tense. He told Silhouette as much.
‘You went straight to a pub and drank after killing Peacock too.’
Alex sat heavily on the bed. ‘I know. But I’m not going to start drinking every time I feel the rage building in me. That’s no answer. Drinking takes my edge and I can’t allow that.’
‘True.’
‘Besides, having a couple of beers is a lot different to getting drunk.’
The book dragged at his pocket, its presence insistent and angry. It pushed at his mind, tried to goad him. It was trying to make him start an argument with Silhouette, but spending his energy against her earlier and a couple of beers with dinner had certainly dulled its influence. Though the potential of its antagonism frightened him. It seemed to be getting stronger all the time and he wondered if his resistance would decline accordingly. What if he killed Sil next time?
She sat down next to him. ‘You say you’re less tense, but you look worried.’
Alex’s eyes were heavy with fatigue. ‘I don’t know how long I can hold off against this urge. It’s relentless.’
‘But sated a bit now?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Even before you had a beer?’ Silhouette’s eyes glittered, her expression seductive.
‘Yes, before the beer.’ He wanted to tell her they could manage it, but he didn’t believe it. ‘I don’t like this violent sex, Sil. I mean, I love the sex part, but the violence, the killing rage, it’s not me. And I’m frightened it will eventually take over.’
She stood, ran one hand over his hair. ‘For now we’ve got a method. Don’t give up on it. You’re stronger than you think.’
He kicked off his shoes. ‘I hope you’re right. You coming to bed?’
She kissed him. ‘I
’ll come to bed soon. That steak wasn’t enough for me, I need to feed. I spotted something on the way back.’
A sudden chill swept in as she opened the bedroom window. She stepped out onto the fire escape and her shadow twisted and morphed as she slipped away into the night.
Alex stared into the blackness, letting the night cool his skin. Could he really accept what she was? Could he trust her? He needed to see.
With a grunt of annoyance he pulled his shoes back on. Outside the window the fire escape led up to the roof and down to the street. Which way? He hurried to the roof and crouched low, scanning all around. Movement in an alleyway opposite caught his eye, a dark shape slipping swiftly through the shadows. He climbed down the fire escape, ran across the road. Holding his breath, ensuring his shields were as tight as they could be, he slunk along the alley, close to the wall. Muffled voices drifted to his ears. He crept closer.
‘Don’t be afraid.’ That was Silhouette.
‘What the hell, lady? I ain’t got nothing.’ A man’s voice, old and worn, gravelly with years of alcohol and cigarettes.
‘Oh, but you do,’ Silhouette said.
The man cried out briefly, his shout cut short with a wet tear. Alex flinched, horrified and fascinated. He knew this was Silhouette’s life, but could he handle it? He peered around the end of an overfilled dumpster and saw Silhouette in the shadows, holding the limp form of a man in raggedy clothes as easily as if he were a small child. She tore and worried at his throat, steam rising around her feline face in the cold night air.
Alex clenched his teeth together, forced himself to watch. That poor man, suddenly stripped of what little dignity and humanity remained to him, reduced to nothing more than an unlucky gazelle on the savannah. Silhouette tipped her head up to the sky, her face contorted into a long snout with sharp, gleaming teeth. She took an ecstatic breath and sank her face again, tearing a wad of flesh from the wino’s neck and chest. She seemed to swallow it whole before burying her nose in the huge wound and sucking down the blood.
Alex was frozen, mesmerised. Was she a beautiful woman who would sometimes have to do this, or was she this all along and only sometimes pretended to be a beautiful woman? Did that even matter? And if this was Silhouette’s true nature and she was the only friend he had, what did that make him? A shrill tone disturbed her feeding. With a curse she dropped the corpse and wiped her hands on his clothes before digging into a pocket.
