by Alan Baxter
‘I vote we get out of this one-horse town,’ Silhouette said. ‘The main airport is in St John. Let’s get there and try to organise a flight back to the mainland.’
‘How do we get to St John? And what do we do when we get back to the mainland?’
Silhouette shrugged. ‘I’ll get us to St John. You worry about finding Meera, because we’re fresh out of direction right about now.’
Mr Hood sat behind his giant desk, painstakingly cleaning a Nordic idol with alcohol solution and cotton buds. He frowned at the phone on his desk, a voice coming through tinny over the speaker. ‘I don’t want anything illegal, Mr Hood.’ The voice had a strong Asian accent.
‘Nothing illegal? Please, Mr Choy, what do you take me for?’
Crackling laughter burst out. ‘You don’t want me to answer that. Your reputation is not unsullied.’
Hood tutted. ‘My reputation is what led you to me. It’s what’s enabled me to meet your needs in the past. If you don’t like it, you can deal elsewhere.’
‘No need for hostility. I just don’t want illegal goods.’
Hood barked a laugh. ‘Who’s to judge the legality of the things I supply you? You want to run anything you’ve bought from me by the police and see what they have to say?’
‘No, no, no. Let me rephrase. I don’t want anything that has a history attached. A history that might come looking for it, you understand?’
‘Yes, Mr Choy, I understand. This latest selection comes from a deceased estate that I had been negotiating with for some time. Let’s just say I got lucky with my timing on this one. The previous owner certainly won’t be coming after these things.’ He looked up at Sparks, mimed stabbing himself in the eyes with two fingers, grinning.
Sparks grinned back. She sat in one corner, bathed in winter sunlight flooding in through the window, tapping away at a laptop perched on her knees.
‘Very well,’ Choy said. ‘If you’re sure these items come without repercussions, then there are several grimoires in that collection which interest me.’
‘I thought there would be. Use the usual encrypted channel to list the items and I’ll have secured example files sent over. If you’re happy, then we can arrange a visit for you.’
‘At the prices you’re suggesting, I hope you’ll meet the expense of my visit yourself, Mr Hood,’ Choy wheedled.
Hood rolled his eyes. ‘Tell me what you’re interested in and I’ll see what I can tee up.’
‘Very good, very good. I’ll contact you again soon.’
‘You do that.’ Hood viciously stabbed a button on the phone, scowling. ‘That fucking Choy,’ he said, derisive. ‘Always has to haggle.’
Sparks laughed. ‘It’s his way. It’s cultural.’
‘Fuck culture. He’ll try to get a discount too, you wait and see.’
‘I know he will. But let’s be honest, we have a pretty broad margin on this collection.’ She smiled at him, one eyebrow cocked.
‘Well, yes, there is that. But I’ll never reduce a profit margin, however wide. Real power is not in magic but in the commerce of magic, Sparks. It’s a shame my poverty-stricken mage of a father didn’t realise that.’ An urgent rapping on the door interrupted him. He sighed, putting down the half-cleaned idol. ‘Come.’
The door creaked open and Jackson looked in, his face nervous. One of his hideous birds perched on his shoulder. ‘Er, Mr Hood, sir?’
‘Yes, yes, come in. What is it?’
‘This little one just reported back, sir.’
‘Yes. And?’
‘The Subcontractor, sir. He’s dead.’ Jackson stared at the floor as he spoke.
Hood stilled, mute, for several moments. Ms Sparks stopped typing, watching with pursed lips. ‘What?’ Hood said eventually.
‘The Subcontractor’s dead, sir.’
Muscles twitched in Hood’s cheeks. ‘How?’
‘There was a fight, apparently. In a hotel room. The two he was tracking.’
Hood’s teeth creaked together, audible across the large office. ‘Those two defeated the Subcontractor?’
‘Yes, sir. Quite a battle it was too. The Subcontractor dropped his disguise and everything.’
Hood’s eyebrows shot up. ‘How much of it can you actually see? How much detail does that creature give you?’
‘Images and sensations, sir. Not really clear pictures.’
‘Do you have any idea what the Subcontractor was?’
‘No, sir. Not like anything I’ve ever felt before.’
Hood stood, his chair flying back to crash into the wall behind him. He stalked out from behind his desk, paced across the office.
Sparks closed the laptop, rested her hands on it. She watched thoughtfully, keeping silent. Jackson scuffed at the expensive Persian carpet with one scruffy boot toe.
‘The human still has the items presumably?’ Hood asked.
‘Yes, sir. He was quite overwhelming for my little beauty here. He burns so brightly. She fears him.’
‘For those two to defeat the Subcontractor … Oh, I really want whatever it is he has now. I want it so badly. Can your bird still track them?’
‘I should imagine so, sir. If they haven’t gone too far yet.’
Hood spun to face him. ‘What? Well, send it now, you imbecile! Don’t lose them!’
Jackson shuddered, turning to face the thing on his shoulder. He muttered and whispered to it, stroking its head. The bird leapt up, beat its wings once, and vanished with a bright flash. A metallic scent hung in the air. ‘She’ll find ’em, sir. And keep an eye on ’em.’
‘Good. You’d better pray she does. We need to send someone else after them. Someone stronger than the Subcontractor.’
Jackson and Sparks held their tongues, both knowing Hood well enough not to risk his wrath by speaking. ‘But who is stronger than the Subcontractor? That freak, whatever he was, has never failed me before. Bah! All his secrets have died with him.’
He turned and strode to the window, standing beside Sparks, paying her no attention at all. He stared out across London’s Docklands, his hands gently massaging each other. ‘But he failed this time,’ he said, addressing no one in particular. ‘Whatever that boy has it must be incredible. I want it, whatever the cost.’
‘Are you sure?’ Sparks asked, immediately regretting it.
‘What?’
She plunged on. ‘Whatever the cost? If they beat the Subcontractor, the price might be high indeed.’
Hood slapped her hard across the cheek, knocking her to the floor, laptop spinning across the rug. He walked back to his desk, slumping into his chair as she struggled back to her feet, wiping blood-spattered lips with the back of one hand.
‘I need powerful allies here,’ Hood said, his fingers drumming on the dark mahogany. ‘I need something stronger than the Subcontractor.’ Tap-tap-tap-tap. ‘But what is there?’ Tap-tap-tap-tap. ‘Maybe not just one ally. Perhaps many.’ Tap-tap-tap-tap. A smile spread across his face. He turned to his computer, typing rapidly. ‘Perhaps I need the Dark Sisters.’ His eyes scanned. With a noise of satisfaction he stood and strode to a sealed bookcase, heavy glass locked before dark wood and leather spines. Pulling a key from inside his suit jacket, he unlocked the doors, fingertip tracing the ancient grimoires.
Sparks watched in trepidation, standing still, hoping not to be noticed again. These were the ones he would never sell. Too dangerous, he said. The kind of thing that people might one day use against him. Her lip throbbed and a deep part of her wished someone would turn against him.
‘Yes,’ Hood said, mostly to himself. ‘Here we are. Yes, perhaps that’s the answer.’ He pulled a large volume from the shelf. ‘Their price is very high. But worth it!’
He rounded on Sparks as he passed her. She flinched. He grabbed her chin, tipping her face up to meet his violent kiss. She melted, kissing him back with passion. Jackson seemed interested only in the floor.
Hood broke away and Sparks staggered as he released her. A look of d
runkenness cleared from her face as he moved on. ‘Yes. The Dark Sisters,’ he muttered. ‘But how to reach them?’ He sat at his desk, started thumbing through the large book.
Sparks pulled herself together. ‘The Dark Sisters? I’ve never heard of them. Who are they?’
‘Death, that’s who. Evil. Relentless. Their fee is usually too high to ever consider, but in this case I’m prepared to compromise.’
‘Are they mercenaries? Humans?’
Hood grinned. ‘Mercenaries? Of a sort. Humans? Good God, Sparks, no. They’re about as far from human as I imagine anything gets.’
19
Silhouette carefully drove the car she’d hotwired, staying under the speed limit, avoiding attention. The roads weren’t particularly busy. A kind of dread lurked deep in Alex’s soul, but it was a seductive feeling. Every moment that passed with this woman the more he wanted to stay with her. He was becoming addicted. And becoming more like her. Falling in love with a monster. Was he becoming a monster too?
He had a malevolent force dragging at his life, a force that would surely kill him eventually, causing untold mayhem along the way. He had to shake himself free of it. Did he have to free himself of Silhouette too, before it was too late? How many would he kill saving himself? Those freaks on the island were messed up, but did he really have any right to wipe them out? If he’d died there and Silhouette had died with him, that would have been an end to it, the book stuck, never to darken the real world again. Perhaps that would have been the best outcome. The book pushed its presence into his mind, revelling in the deaths. It urged him to kill again, to cause chaos, never to abandon it on some remote island. Alex knew, beyond a doubt, that these thoughts came from Uthentia. Its evil tendrils sank deeper into his consciousness all the time. Anger roiled in his gut. The urge to slaughter rose up, filling his chest with a fire.
Silhouette looked at him sharply. ‘What’s going on, Alex?’
He ground his teeth, trying to suppress the surge of fury.
‘Alex, chill the fuck out. You need to control this.’
The book pulsed like his heart, racing with him. He remembered the fight with the Subcontractor and the animal joy of it. Even the defeat gave him a rush, under no illusion that luck had saved him. Luck in the form of a shotgun-toting, obese clerk. He wanted more havoc, more adrenaline, more death. He tipped his head back, yelling frustration at the heavens.
Silhouette hit the brakes, pulled the car off the road into a long, darkened driveway lined with trees. She stopped in the deepest shadows and killed the engine. Alex clenched his fists on his lap, resisting the urge to strike out at her. ‘I feel like an explosion!’
She grinned at him. ‘Good. I’ll give you one.’
In one quick movement she was on his lap, knees astride his legs, grinding into him. She leaned in, biting at his neck, kissing his lips.
His desire for her flamed. He wanted to take her and then rip the life from her while he came. The real Alex, disappearing in a sea of rage, hated himself. He gasped. ‘I don’t know if I can control …’
She slapped him. ‘Shut the fuck up.’ She put his hands around to her butt, pressed down on him harder, kissed him more urgently. She sat back, pulling her shirt off, pressing his head into her breasts. He reached beside the seat, pulled a lever. The seat fell back with his weight. Silhouette fell with it then sat up again, hands on his chest. She looked magnificent in the darkness. She struggled to pull down his jeans and her own, her body twisting in the confined space. He helped her, occupying his hands, trying to focus on her body, blot out the fury. Her features morphed as she growled, her own passion feral and powerful. ‘Come on! Fuck me!’
The car rocked, their heat steaming the cold windows.
Hood sat back with the old tome from his private bookcase, the leather seat of his private jet creaking as he moved. Sparks watched him. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked. Clouds built swollen sculptures far below the plane, golden with sunlight.
He spoke without looking up. ‘Scotland, Sparks. The middle of bloody nowhere.’
‘That’s where these Sisters live?’
‘It’s one place to reach them.’
Sparks couldn’t hide her concern. ‘I understand how badly you want whatever this boy has, but I can’t help wondering how high the cost might be.’
Hood lowered the book, his expression bored. ‘Why don’t you let me worry about that? I seek sport as much as money. This whole thing has me entertained. I haven’t had something like this to get my teeth into for a while. You could always find … something else to do.’
Sparks shook her head vigorously. ‘No, no. I’m with you all the way. You know that. So what are these Dark Sisters? How do we deal with them?’
Hood gestured with the grimoire. ‘If you shut up and let me read, I’ll figure it out.’
Sparks’s eyebrows raised in surprise. ‘You don’t know? Have you ever dealt with them before?’
Hood sighed, closed the book on his lap. ‘No. I met a man many years ago. He and I did a lot of trade together. He unearthed this for me, and it tells the tale of the Dark Sisters, how they can be bargained with and so forth. I’ve never used them before, as their price is very high. This is a special case.’
‘Sounds dangerous.’
‘Of course it’s dangerous, Sparks. Everything we do is touched with danger. That’s where the sport lies. But I have the power and the ability to pay what they ask, so I’ll employ them and task them with getting me what I want. I’m a businessman, and this is business.’
‘You made a lot of calls before we left.’
‘There was a lot to arrange.’
Sparks wasn’t really mollified. She didn’t like it when Hood conducted activities without including her. She had proved time and again how valuable an asset to him she could be, yet so often he left her on the outer. He seemed to revel in it sometimes, often claiming it was for her own protection while a self-satisfied smirk played across his lips. ‘I hope the book tells you all you need to know,’ she said.
‘It will. It cost me enough. Now shut up, and let me read.’
Alex lay back, gasping for breath. Cold air came in where the passenger door used to be, chilling his sweat-soaked body. Silhouette crawled back into the car through the ruined doorway, pressing the back of one hand to her rapidly swelling lower lip. ‘Fucking hell,’ she said between pants, dropping heavily into the driver’s seat.
‘I’m sorry,’ Alex said. ‘Are you okay?’ His shame threatened to drown him. The rage had been diluted again, the pressure valve of frustration and anger released once more with their union, but every time he came closer to killing her.
She pulled her clothes back on. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. That was a good one!’
‘I’m glad you like it.’
‘I’m glad it works. You feeling better?’
He pulled the seat up, dragged his jeans back on. ‘Yeah, it certainly calms the anger.’ He wanted to tell her that he had no idea how long he could resist the desire to kill her, but how could he possibly approach that truth?
Silhouette pursed her lips, looking at the shattered windscreen, the glass like a giant confused spiderweb. The dashboard sat cracked and crooked, the passenger door lying in the darkness a few feet away. ‘Well, this is all pretty fucked up.’
Alex nodded, flexing knuckles that still throbbed with the impact of repeatedly punching a car. He managed to direct a lot of the fury away from Silhouette while she helped relieve it, but not all. He hated what he had become. ‘What now?’
‘I guess we have to get another one.’ She opened her door, looked down the dark driveway. ‘They’ll probably have a car down there somewhere. I’ll go and check. Can you do anything with this one?’
‘Like what?’
‘Well, burning it would be the best way to make sure we don’t leave prints or anything. Maybe you can find something to siphon some petrol out and douse it?’
‘I’ll try.’
Silhouette di
sappeared into the shadows. Alex stared after her for a moment then climbed out. He thought about Welby’s element grimoire, the powerful stone. He remembered the giant wave standing up over the island. Water, air, earth and fire. Those were the things he’d read about. Things he understood now with such clarity. He pictured the car on fire, visualised a roaring incandescence consuming the carpets and vinyl seats, flaking the paint off in a furious inferno. The Darak spread its own warmth through his body. He drew on it, saw twisted and blackened metal in his mind’s eye. He tried to draw raw heat from the air the same way he’d drawn up a giant wave from a choppy ocean. He let his guards down, let his magesign swell out. Within seconds his arcane energies flashed into manifest flames, the entire car an inferno of blistering heat. He threw one arm up in front of his face, staggering away from the furnace. The metal frame of the car glowed a piercing red, the bodywork and chassis twisting and curling, melting like wax on a bonfire.
Silhouette jogged along, one hand pressed to her aching ribs. Alex got more violent every time, his fury harder to control. Fun it might be, and she did enjoy herself every time, but it was starting to scare her. The passion and animal intensity thrilled her. Alex’s humanity, deep inside him, made for so much more than callous Kin couplings. But when would the influence against Alex push that humanity away? She pulled her phone from her pocket as she went, the screen informing her of numerous missed calls and messages. She sighed and dialled Joseph’s number.
It rang once, then, ‘How dare you ignore me, Silhouette? Who do you think you are?’
‘I’m with him all the time, my Lord,’ she said, careful to keep her voice level. ‘I can’t talk with you unless I’m alone.’
His breathing sounded calm over the line. That disturbed her more than if he’d been furious. ‘Well?’ he asked. ‘What news?’
‘Alex has the second piece.’
‘Really?’ Joseph was clearly impressed. ‘This human is proving to be quite resourceful. How much of your help did he need to get it?’
