by Alan Baxter
He strode off across the grass without waiting for an answer. They crossed manicured lawns and the carefully managed trees and flowerbeds of the Gardens and headed out onto Macquarie Street. They travelled a few blocks south to the top end of Hyde Park where they crossed into the massive courtyard of the sandstone majesty of St Mary’s Cathedral. The place crawled with tourists taking photographs and teenagers skateboarding on the smooth flagstones. Doe pointed them around to the eastern side and a small wooden door, with iron studs and a heavy black ring in the centre. An electronic scanner was mounted on the wall beside the door. Doe took out his badge and held it by the scanner for a moment. A buzz and the door popped open.
‘This way,’ he said with a smile.
Behind the door were sandstone steps leading down into darkness. Silhouette leaned forward, whispered to Alex as he followed Doe. ‘There are tiny cameras and other sensors in the roof. Can you see them?’
Alex shook his head, not even seeing Doe clearly any more. Silhouette’s natural night-vision was far greater than his. ‘Keep your eyes peeled.’ He opened his preternatural vision and saw the magic swimming around the place, got the sense of the electronic surveillance.
‘Don’t worry,’ Doe called through the gloom. ‘Only a few steps.’
‘Why the dark?’ Alex asked.
‘Better for the safety of the place, and the sensors all around. It’s just a staircase going down. I’ll warn you when it levels out.’
As Alex carefully picked his way forward, his annoyance rose. Perhaps he needed to take some control back and show off a bit of what he had. Breathing deep into his stomach and drawing through the stone embedded in his chest, his power flowed through it and amplified. He used some of the elemental skills that were Welby’s legacy to him. He drew warmth from the air, gathered it tightly together, agitated heat from nothing and a small flame popped up on his palm, flickering in the breeze of movement. Dancing orange light flooded the thin stairway, reflected off lenses placed every few metres along the ceiling. The stairs continued down for another twenty metres or so then levelled off to a small area of flagstones before another door. Silhouette laughed softly behind him as Doe turned in surprise, squinting.
‘Very impressive,’ Doe said, ‘but you really don’t need to worry.’
‘I don’t like being blind.’
Doe’s smile faded as he saw the seriousness in Alex’s eyes. ‘Fair enough.’
They reached the foot of the stairs and stopped. After a moment the door opened, fluorescent light flooded over them. Alex clenched his fist, extinguished the flame. A man dressed in black fatigues like Doe stood back to let them in. He was small, thin, but exuded a kind of tight power. He regarded Alex and Silhouette with suspicious eyes, remained silent as they passed.
The room they entered was an office of sorts, not unlike a doctor’s waiting area, with a desk and scattered easy chairs. Doe strode through as the thin man sat behind the desk, ignoring them.
The next room, beyond a heavy steel door that Doe opened with his badge over another scanner, was vast. Like a military command centre, computers lined the edges, various workstations dotted the open area and in the middle was a giant scalloped table. Images and data in a holographic display shimmered and hovered over the dish-like surface as people moved around, conversing and interacting with the holograms. Shades of magic pulsed and undulated around the technology.
‘This is like something from a science fiction movie,’ Alex said.
Doe laughed. ‘What did you expect? Monks scrawling with quills on parchment?’
‘I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this.’
Other people milled around or sat at desks, working diligently. Some glanced up but seemed unsurprised or unimpressed by their presence. Alex let his senses out, read the shades of the workers. Many were adepts of some description, some of mortal years, some far older. A few had shades that implied a decent level of magical ability and Alex was sure one or two at least were Kin. He looked at Sil and saw she recognised the same thing.
‘Interesting bunch,’ he said.
Sil nodded, scanning the room. One of the Kin caught her eye, came over. He was a big man, broad, dark islander skin and black-haired, with a heavy brow. They said nothing, eyes locked. A glimmer of Silhouette’s favoured cat-like form shifted briefly across her features. The Kin facing her showed a ripple of something dog-like. They clasped forearms and nodded, smiles emerging.
‘Once of Joseph, London, now Clanless. Silhouette.’
The other nodded, released Sil’s arm. ‘Once of Petero, Brisbane, now Clanless. Jarrod.’ His accent was strong New Zealander, Maori. He gestured to encompass the room. ‘Though I suppose this is a Clan of a different sort.’
‘I guess so.’
‘If we could go this way,’ John Doe said politely, indicating a door on the far side of the huge room.
Jarrod and Silhouette held each other’s eye for a moment, then parted.
‘Was that a bit weird?’ Alex asked as they followed Doe.
Silhouette took his hand, squeezed, though her eyes were distant. ‘It’s a Kin thing.’
‘I’ve never seen you like that with anyone before.’
‘There’s a lot about me you don’t know. And a lot you don’t know about Kin.’
Alex frowned, stung. ‘Okay. I don’t mean to interrogate you or anything. It’s unusual, is all.’
Silhouette glanced back over her shoulder to where Jarrod stood at a workstation. He watched them, a folder in one hand. ‘Sorry, Alex,’ Silhouette said. ‘Let’s just call it a Kin thing and leave it for now. Okay?’
‘Sure.’
John Doe knocked on a door marked COMMANDER and waited. After a moment a voice called from inside. ‘Come.’
Doe opened the door, held it for Alex and Sil, then followed them in. A giant of a man with a shock of grey-white hair and a huge iron-grey handlebar moustache sat behind a desk.
‘Commander,’ Doe said, ‘this is Alex and Silhouette.’
The Commander stood, leaned over to shake their hands. ‘Marvellous. Welcome, welcome, do sit down.’
Alex studied the man’s shades and knew he shielded himself incredibly well, his arcane appearance almost bland in its normalcy. As Alex looked, the old man let his guard open slightly, a polite allowance. He was ancient and not entirely human, but before Alex could quite figure out what he might be the shades slipped closed again like a safe door swinging shut, letting not even air escape. The Commander sat and indicated they take chairs too.
‘I’m so glad you agreed to come along,’ he said, his voice a deep baritone. ‘I really think you might be able to help us.’
‘I don’t want to become part of this organisation,’ Alex said, deciding to lay the bottom line early. ‘But I’m considering subcontracting for you.’
‘We can work with that. Let me explain the situation.’ The Commander leaned back, tugged gently at one side of his huge moustache. ‘Rather than try to explain everything we do here, I’ll just give you the key points. Understand that our job is to intercept and neutralise threats outside the remit of the governments, police and military forces of the world. Threats that are not mundane.’ He paused, raising an eyebrow at Alex.
‘I get it,’ Alex said. ‘Go on.’
‘Righto. Good. So, in this endeavour we utilise various seers and psychics. They tend to get wind of things and give us a heads up early on. We’ve often managed to stop a threat before it actually becomes a threat. Sometimes we’ve failed miserably. In this case we have one particularly … gifted seer, called Rowan. He’s stumbled across something very concerning.’
The pause in the Commander’s speech didn’t go unnoticed. Alex logged it for later, something unsaid. ‘Okay,’ he said, determined to give nothing away. Let this Commander say everything first.
‘Yes. Right. So, Rowan has been shuddering with something rather nebulous but he doesn’t doubt the veracity of the menace. A small group, indeterminat
e number, but not many, are uncovering some ancient magics and a danger lies in that activity. It really is nothing more than that, but Rowan is quite disturbed at the scale of the danger he’s perceiving.’
The Commander stopped talking and Alex realised he would have to speak. They were assessing each other, both reluctant to be too open. Time to give something back. ‘So what about your other seers?’ he asked. ‘If this thing is so big, can’t they sense it too?’
The Commander smiled broadly. ‘Good question! And the answer is no. It’s not unusual for one person to hook into a thread of something in the aether others can’t perceive. We’ve tried to corroborate Rowan’s fears and failed. However, we have noticed some ripples in the areas of his concerns and we never ignore anything.’
‘Shuddering? Ripples?’
‘Arcane activity, supernatural activity, has a resonance, yes? You mask your magical self very well, so as not to stand out to others with vision, for example.’
Alex knew all about what he called shades. His whole life had turned upside down because of them, his first life a success and his new life a mess due to his exemplary clarity of sight. In very short order he had gone from a highly skilled fighter with a supernatural talent of reading the intent of his adversaries, to a cursed and powerful being far more than human. ‘Sure. But seeing and feeling magic at work is something that only happens in the presence of it, no?’
‘Usually, yes, but there are methods, both arcane and technological, to see those things remotely, from afar. To tune in to them, if you like, just as a radio picks up broadcasts. That’s a lot of what we do.’
Alex flicked a thumb back over his shoulder. ‘That big room out there?’
‘Exactly. There are Armour command centres like that all over the world, constantly monitoring. We’re busier than you might imagine.’
Alex laughed, without any real humour. ‘You’d be surprised. So where do I fit in?’
The Commander leaned forward, planted his elbows on the desk. ‘You’ve been through something very recently that registered on radars all over the world. Let’s not bother with the details now, suffice to say that you’ve proven yourself adept at tracking things down and facing threats. We’d very much like you to do that for us.’
Alex sensed an implied intimidation in the request — the suggestion that not doing things for Armour would pit him against them. It irked him that little choice seemed to be available, but he needed a job. He could walk away if he chose. ‘So you want me to track down this little group you mentioned and find out what they’re up to?’
The Commander pointed one meaty forefinger across the desk. ‘Precisely. And we pay very well. You up for it?’
‘If I say no?’
‘We’d be awfully disappointed.’
The two of them sat still, eyes locked. Alex opened his vision, read the man’s shades again. He was blank, showed nothing. But his gaze was flint. Eventually Alex nodded. ‘Okay. I’ll take this job, but I reserve the right to walk at any time.’
The Commander’s moustache lifted with his grin. ‘Of course. There’s always choice, Mr Caine.’
Alex winced internally. How many times had he heard that recently, despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary?
The Commander stood. ‘You’ll obviously work with the lovely Silhouette here. Rowan, the seer, will go with you, and we’ll send along an Armour field operative to liaise and help wherever needed. You’ll be in charge, of course.’
Alex shook his head, standing to see the Commander eye to eye. Alex’s six foot height only reached the old man’s chin. ‘I’d rather work alone. Just me and Silhouette.’
‘Not negotiable, I’m afraid.’ He looked from Alex to Silhouette and his eyes narrowed slightly. ‘I’ll send Jarrod along with you.’
Silhouette jumped slightly, drew in a quick breath.
‘Everything okay?’ Alex asked.
Silhouette took his hand. ‘Of course. We could probably use the help and we don’t have to live in each other’s pockets.’
Alex was not happy and opened his mouth to protest but the Commander spoke first. ‘Splendid. It’s decided then. Let’s go and see Rowan.’
Alex opened his mouth again but anything he planned to say was drowned out by a sudden, insistent claxon and a flood of red light through the room. A brash voice sounded over a tannoy system. ‘Breach! Breach! Breach!’
The Commander and Doe became deadly serious and hurried to the door. ‘Stay close to us,’ Doe said urgently. ‘Do nothing, go nowhere else.’
‘What’s going on?’ Alex asked. He let his vision out, felt as far through the complex as he could, but magic drenched the place making any detail impossible to pinpoint.
They strode through the command centre, several people travelling with them, headed for a corridor on the opposite side. ‘Something’s trying to get to us,’ Doe said over his shoulder as they went. ‘These incursions happen every so often.’
‘Incursions from where? By who?’
‘We’re about to find out.’
The corridor led to a large meeting room. A huge board table had been upended and darkness twisted in a vortex in the centre of the open space. Magesign, the resonant echo of magic visible only to the arcane eye, whipped around it in waves. Three men were huddled together on the far side, crouched against the wall. Two looked like Doe, Armour operatives. The third was a small, skinny man, dressed in a tie-dyed shirt and Thai fisherman’s pants like a hippy on the backpacker trail. He had a mop of curly, black hair and his face was twisted in terror.
The operatives spread around the edges of the room. Their magic, their shades, burst out, completely unfettered, unguarded. Alex had never felt such a concentrated explosion of power from humans. The overlapping shades, the mixed personalities, were almost overwhelming.
The spinning vortex of darkness began to whip up a wind, folders and papers flew in a cloud. A high keening noise rose with it, tearing at ears and minds.
‘It’s a realm breach,’ the Commander roared. ‘We need a handle on where from.’
Three agents turned away from the vortex, linked hands, heads down. Alex felt their magic turn inwards, their intent focused on amplifying themselves, the sum greater than the individual parts.
The vortex began to flex and pulse, like something inside kicked and punched to get out. A jet-black hand, huge and taloned, surged through briefly. Scorching heat came with it. Then again and again, then two hands. A foot kicked out, massive, shining black and clawed like a dragon.
‘It’s escaping!’ someone cried.
The gathered operatives began a chant as the three who had turned away spun back, running around the vortex, sketching a circle and sigils on the floor in lines of pure, bright light that sparked and hissed against the carpet.
The vortex burst, sent shards of darkness out in an explosion that scorched the walls and floor wherever it touched. Silhouette cried out as one sliced across her upper arm. Alex turned to protect her, but she snarled and shook her head. ‘I’m fine.’
A huge creature stood in the room, smooth black skin taut over bulging muscles. Shining obsidian horns curved up from its brutal skull, its eyes a fiery red deep under its heavy brow. It lifted its head and roared. The sound made Alex’s bowels turn to water and a primal fear flooded through him. He sucked in a deep breath, calmed the adrenaline as if before a fight, taking back control. The operatives finished their magical drawing as the beast rushed forward and it bounced against an invisible barrier, roared again. Magesign swirled about the edges of the containment.
‘Well done, lads!’ the Commander shouted. ‘This is a tough one. Let’s begin.’
They all raised their voices, speaking in unison. It sounded to Alex like Latin and the creature roared once more.
‘It’s a demon,’ Silhouette said in Alex’s ear. ‘The thing they’re chanting is an old exorcism.’
‘How do you know?’
She smiled at him and winked. ‘I’ve been ar
ound a long time, don’t forget.’
Alex watched with eyes and mind, tried to understand the magic of the binding circle as well as the process of exorcism. The thing was far more powerful than the creature he had faced recently in the ring. This one exuded age and malevolent evil, reminding him of the moment Uthentia strode towards him across the smoking ground in Iceland.
The demon thrashed at the binding circle and the enchantment began to waver. ‘Come on, people!’ the Commander yelled. ‘It’s breaking free!’
‘It’s too strong!’ someone shouted.
‘Not an option. Concentrate!’
Alex noticed different shades, crossing and interrupting the work of the operatives. It took a few moments to trace it, unravel it from the maelstrom in the room, but he finally tracked it back to the hippy who sat in the corner, ashen and trembling. A large, damp stain covered the front of his burgundy fisherman’s pants. The shades tied to him were interesting. Alex couldn’t understand the magic, but he could see it. As ever, his vision far outmatched his understanding, but one thing was certain. This hippy was empowering the creature, his shades directly at odds with the efforts of the exorcism. And it seemed as though he was not even aware of it.
The three men ran around the circle again, trying to shore up their defence, but Alex could see them weakening, tiring.
The demon slammed and crashed against the invisible barrier and the magic creaked and screamed in protest deep in Alex’s mind. Every operative focused their entire attention on the task at hand, all exorcising, none seeing.
Alex pushed past the Commander and hurried around the burning, howling storm. He pulled the hippy up by his tie-dyed shirt and slammed his fist across the man’s jaw, knocking him senseless. The small man slumped in his grip and the combined power of the gathered operatives swelled in the room like a sunrise. The demon screamed, ear-shattering in its volume, as the circle’s glow intensified. The voices boomed louder, the Latin chant pushed over all other sound and the demon staggered back. Its form wavered and shifted, like a television picture not quite tuned in. With a sucking rush of air and heat the demon vanished and the room fell into a deafening silence. Papers and people fluttered to the floor, gasps of breath the only sounds.
