by Alan Baxter
‘Who did you expect to be trading with Fey? Humans?’
Alex shook his head. ‘I guess I expected Fey.’
Silhouette barked a harsh laugh. ‘In this realm? It’s hard enough to deal with a Kin who has direct connections with Faerie. Dealing with an actual Fey? Fuck that. You’ve got a lot to learn.’
‘Yeah, I’d like to know.’
Sil fixed him with a hard glare. ‘No. You wouldn’t.’
Alex chose not to pursue the subject further. For now. But Silhouette was half Fey, one of the few first generation Kin in the world, her human mother raped by a Fey. He would take his time and pry gently, but one day he would learn more.
They turned towards the house and froze. Alex sensed a presence nearby and knew Sil had spotted it too. They said nothing, both trying to get a better feel, letting their shades drift into whatever might be out there. Alex knew his vision was far more developed than that of pretty much anyone or anything he’d met thus far, but this felt different. He faced back up the driveway, the presence clear as a bright light in a dark room. It wanted to be noticed.
‘Hi there.’ The voice was male, the colours definitely human. The feel of the shades reminded Alex of Patrick Welby, the old magus in London who had died for him. He had taught Alex about his true nature, had set him on a path of mastering elemental magic. The person who had cursed Alex with Uthentia’s grimoire and the Darak stone. All so recent, yet it seemed a lifetime ago. This man seemed of a similar age and ability to Welby, a magus of average skills.
‘What do you want?’ Alex asked.
Silhouette moved silently from his side, disappeared into the shadows. Her Kin instincts guided her and Alex knew she would burst from cover with animal fury if even the slightest threat presented itself.
‘My name is John Doe. I’m here as a representative for Armour. We want to ask for your help.’
‘John Doe?’
‘I can explain everything. Really, I’m no threat. I made myself as plain to you as I could. I just want to talk.’
Alex had always preferred his own company and the peace and quiet of the country. He was more than happy to make an exception for Silhouette these days, but that was about it. ‘I don’t want whatever you’re selling. Thanks anyway.’ He turned to his front door, pulled a set of keys from his pocket.
‘We really need to talk. I’m not going anywhere till I get a chance to explain.’
Alex turned back, his eyes hard. ‘How about you fuck off right now? I don’t want to have to make you.’
John Doe stepped forward, into the light from the garage. He was a tall man, strong-looking, with short dark hair and a square jaw. Regardless of the true age Alex sensed, this man appeared much younger than Welby had. Perhaps his power was greater than Alex had first suspected. He wore all black, army boots, cargo pants, T-shirt. ‘You could make me, Alex Caine. I wouldn’t stand a chance against you. Or her.’ He tipped his head to the bushes behind him to the left where Alex knew Silhouette circled. ‘But then they’d send someone else. Someone stronger. Then they’d send a team. Then they’d decide to treat you as an enemy rather than a potential ally and they’d make sure to shut you down.’
‘You really shouldn’t be threatening me.’
‘It’s not a threat. I’m just explaining how it works. Right now we want to be friends and I’d really like to talk to you. But this won’t end.’
Alex sucked his teeth in frustration. ‘No choice, huh?’
John Doe hitched his shoulders, raised his palms. ‘No choice. But please, let’s be friends. Let’s talk.’
Alex opened the front door and went inside, flicking lights on as he headed through to the kitchen. Silhouette slipped from hiding and into the house without a word. Doe let out a relieved breath, shut the door behind himself as he followed them.
Alex filled the kettle. ‘Tea? Seeing as we’re going to be friends.’ He did nothing to hide the sarcasm in his voice.
John Doe inclined his head. ‘Thanks.’
Silhouette took the recently purchased ingredients from her pocket — Moonflower and Grief Water, Bloodheart seed and Mer-hair. Alex remembered their names, wondered at their origins. She took down a mortar and pestle, and other ingredients from a locked drawer, and began grinding and mixing. She said nothing, concentrated on her work, but her attention was piano wire taut and focused on Doe.
Alex made three cups of tea. ‘So, John Doe? Hiding behind an alias, especially such a weak one, is no way to start a friendship.’
The big man smiled. Alex saw he was fit, strong, built like a fighter. He looked to be around thirty, maybe a bit more, but his shades spoke in decades beyond a century, something Alex had got used to surprisingly quickly.
‘We’re all called John Doe in the field. Except the women, of course, who are Jane Doe. No names outside.’
‘Must get tricky when you’re all out together,’ Alex said.
John Doe raised an eyebrow. ‘We manage. This is my ID.’ He pulled a leather wallet from his pocket, flipped it open. It held a silver badge, an intricate design of circles overlapping each other that reminded Alex of the more complicated crop circles he’d seen online. Among the circles were other symbols — pentagrams, triquetra, the Illuminati eye. In raised gothic letters across the circles was ARMOUR and under that a number, 1888-0065391-01. Doe ran his fingertip along the number. ‘Year of joining Armour, ID number, gender identity. 02 is female, 03 is indeterminate.’
Alex nodded, choosing not to question what indeterminate sex might mean. ‘You joined this Armour the same year Jack the Ripper was busy.’
Doe grinned at him. ‘You know your history. That’s no coincidence either, except back then he was still known as Leather Apron.’
Alex handed him a cup of tea. ‘Milk, sugar?’
‘No, thanks.’
‘So, what’s Armour then? Some fancy acronym for an occult society?’
‘No, it’s a perfectly accurate name. Armour is an organisation that guards against threats supernatural and magical. We’ve been around a long time.’
‘How long?’
‘The organisation originated in 1149, at the end of the second Crusade. A group of magi learned of a plan by the Knights Templar that would have had massive ramifications across the world. They fought to interfere with the Templars’ plans, were successful, barely, and decided to codify their existence in case anything like it happened again. We have a motto: “Born Of Cataclysm To Prevent Cataclysm”. Quite literally, armour against disaster.’
Alex sipped his tea thoughtfully, unsure what to say. What did they want with him?
‘I’ve heard of you,’ Silhouette said quietly. She carefully dripped Grief Water into the mix. It had an aura that filled Alex with such melancholy he had to look away as it hissed and vaporised almost immediately.
‘Yes, you probably have. You’re from Joseph’s Den.’ It wasn’t a question. Doe was demonstrating his knowledge.
Silhouette stopped grinding, looked over her shoulder. ‘You screwed up one of Joseph’s plans but good. For months every other thing out of his mouth was, “Fucking Armour this” or “Fucking Armour that”. But he never did tell us what the problem was.’
‘I wasn’t on that case. I could find out, if you want.’
Silhouette shrugged, turned back to her mixing. ‘Doesn’t matter. My bridges with the Den are pretty much burned these days. I’m a lone Kin, like so many others. Den life is over-rated.’
‘Not exactly alone though,’ Doe said. ‘You and Mr Caine here are quite a team.’
‘What exactly do you know about us?’ Alex asked. He wasn’t comfortable with the imbalance of information.
Doe sipped his tea again, then set the mug down on the counter. He seemed uncomfortable standing around the kitchen, but Alex was not about to offer the man a seat and make him feel welcome. He wasn’t.
‘We try to monitor all kinds of activity that could be a threat to the stability of life as we know it,’ Doe said. ‘We operate outside go
vernment control, though most governments and agencies are happy to work with us, or at least tolerate us. We do the dirty work, after all. There’s no way we can stay on top of everything that happens, but something makes enough noise, we take notice and get involved. You two made a lot of noise recently.’
‘We took care of ourselves, thanks very much.’
‘Yes, you most certainly did. We were playing catch up all the way. We first noticed the massive magical explosion that turned out to be the destruction of Patrick Welby’s house.’
Alex winced. He still felt a pang of guilt at the old man’s death. ‘That was the work of Uthentia.’
Doe’s eyebrow raised and Alex cursed himself, realising he’d given away something Armour hadn’t known. He determined to offer nothing more. ‘That soon?’ Doe asked.
Alex remained silent, so Doe carried on. ‘Fair enough. Anyway, long story short, we came across a number of disturbances: the fight in the London Den, the creature you killed in the hotel room in Newfoundland, the disruption in Rome, then Iceland. We talked to Joseph and Lorenzo. In truth we don’t really know what the hell went on, only that you had a pretty huge challenge and you rose to it. And all the people we spoke to told us what a remarkable vision you had, how much power you’d gained very quickly and how determined you were. They were stunned you’d managed to recover all the pieces of a power stone long thought lost. Is it true you bonded with it? It’s part of you now?’
Alex raised a hand to touch his chest, where the shards were a constant warm presence, pulsing in time with his heart. ‘The stone and I are one now, yeah.’
‘Can I see?’
Alex lifted his T-shirt. Doe leaned forward, looked with eyes and mind, though his magical probing was soft, polite. ‘Fascinating,’ he said, standing back. ‘And given what little you let me feel then I can see you mask yourself brilliantly. You are potent.’
‘I’m still learning. This is all a bit new to me.’
Silhouette drew a glass of water, sprinkled a pinch of dark brown powder into it and handed it to Alex. It effervesced and turned dark purple. She had a good amount of the medicine made, which she folded into a dark green leaf and tucked into a leather pouch. Alex swallowed the bittersweet concoction in one gulp and felt the healing buzz through his body almost immediately. His wounds began knitting back together, the pain in his leg finally subsiding. He kissed her. ‘Thanks.’
She smiled, but her distrust and concern for the presence of John Doe remained undiminished. She sat on a kitchen stool and sipped her tea.
‘So what is it you’re after?’ Alex asked.
‘We kinda hoped you’d think about joining our ranks.’
‘Not a chance.’
‘Which is what we thought you’d say. But even if you won’t join us, perhaps you’d help us?’
‘Why should I? I don’t need more complications in my life.’
John Doe rinsed his empty mug, put it upside down on the draining board. ‘How was your fight today?’
Alex chose not to be surprised that Doe knew about Wilhelm’s place and his part in it. ‘Unfulfilling, to tell you the truth.’
‘That’s what I thought. I’ll be honest with you, Mr Caine, we’re a little scared by you. Worried what you might do, what impact you might have. So we’d really like you to be an ally, not an enemy. But I think that’s a given anyway. You’re not a bad person.’
Alex smiled sardonically. ‘Gee, thanks.’
‘But given what we’ve learned about your ability to find things, we’d love to have your assistance. There’s one particular case bothering us, and it could be the kind of thing you’re almost custom-built to help with.’
‘What’s in it for me?’
‘Purpose. Fulfilment. Money. We’d pay you very well as an Armour subcontractor.’
Alex winced at the word, reminded again of the fight he’d lost. The fight that would have killed him if it hadn’t been for a scared woman and a shotgun and some very fortuitous timing. But the things Doe said did make some sense. He couldn’t fight any more. The thrill and challenge of that had gone and he was likely to keep upping the ante until something killed him. Yet he wasn’t ready for retirement and painting watercolours yet. He’d spent all his savings dealing with Uthentia and needed an income.
John Doe held up a hand. ‘I don’t need an answer now. I’m grateful you let me have this chat with you and I’m sure you want to think things over. I’ll come back tomorrow and we can talk again.’
‘There was an implied threat before,’ Alex said. ‘You mentioned a lack of choice.’
Doe smiled. ‘Well, that was before you chatted with me. I’m fairly comfortable you’d be no threat, but Armour does like to keep an eye on things. It might be better to be on their good side and they’re more likely to leave you alone.’
‘That threat is still implied.’
‘There’s always choice, Mr Caine. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He nodded politely to Silhouette and left, closing the front door behind him.
‘Feeling better?’ Silhouette asked.
‘Yes, thanks.’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘Just as well we did get some more healing powder today. You’re thinking about accepting his offer, aren’t you?’
‘You think I shouldn’t?’
Silhouette stretched and brought her arms down around his neck, kissed him. ‘Actually, no. I think it might be a good idea. You need something to focus your attention and we do work very well together.’
He returned her kiss. ‘I was kinda looking forward to a bit of a rest, lazing around here with you.’
‘We’ve had a few weeks already and let’s be honest, you’ve been pretty antsy.’
He pouted, mock outrage.
‘You just spent your evening fighting. You ripped the heart out of a demon, Alex!’
He laughed, unable to pretend any different. ‘Yeah, I guess I always need to fight something. But I don’t want to become part of this Armour group. I’m not going to end up a card-carrying John Doe.’
‘You don’t have to. Offer them your services on your own terms.’
‘What do you think he wants me to do?’
Silhouette took his hand and led him through to the bedroom. ‘Who knows? Guess we’ll find out in the morning. But I know what I want you to do right now, and that’s all that should concern you.’
Click here to buy Bound.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alan Baxter is a British–Australian author who writes dark fantasy, horror and sci-fi, rides a motorcycle and loves his dog. He also teaches Kung Fu. As well as novels, he is the author of more than fifty published short stories and has written narratives and dialogue for video games. By day (and night more often than not) Alan is director and chief instructor of the Illawarra Kung Fu Academy. He lives among dairy paddocks on the beautiful south coast of NSW, Australia, with his wife, son, dog and cat. Read extracts from his novels, a novella and short stories at his website — www.warriorscribe.com — and find him on Twitter @AlanBaxter and Facebook. Feel free to tell him what you think. About anything.
BOOKS BY ALAN BAXTER
Bound
Obsidian
Abduction
COPYRIGHT
HarperVoyager
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
First published in Australia in 2014
This edition published in 2014
by HarperCollinsPublishers Australia Pty Limited
ABN 36 009 913 517
harpercollins.com.au
Copyright © Alan Baxter 2014
The right of Alan Baxter to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000.
This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
HarperCollinsPublishers
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street, Sydney NSW 2000, Australia
Unit D1, 63 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand
A 53, Sector 57, Noida, UP, India
77–85 Fulham Palace Road, London, W6 8JB, United Kingdom
2 Bloor Street East, 20th floor, Toronto, Ontario M4W 1A8, Canada
195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007, USA
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication data:
Baxter, Alan, author.
Bound / Alan Baxter.
ISBN: 978 0 7322 9910 1 (pbk)
ISBN: 978 1 4607 0286 4 (epub)
Baxter, Alan. Alex Caine series ; 1.
Combat—Fiction.
Fantasy fiction.
Suspense fiction.
A823.4
Cover design by Matt Stanton, HarperCollins Design Studio
Cover illustration copyright © Johnson Ting 2014
