by Alan Baxter
‘Her husband’s heart?’ Silhouette breathed. ‘That’s insane.’
‘She will never give up.’
‘Then we kill her. When Uthentia had you, we didn’t give up. Trapped in Obsidian, we didn’t give up. We won’t now. And we have more immediate concerns with Hood.’
Alex’s heart rate doubled at the mention of the name. ‘How is he back? Is Darvill really that fucking stupid?’
‘Apparently.’
‘They came to Faerie too. What the fuck …?’
‘I think he’s bound with Uthentia still,’ Silhouette said. ‘That means he has all those Fey connections. All that knowledge.’
Alex stared at his chilled feet, pressing into the soft grass. ‘So Hood will be back as soon as they realise we’ve left and he’ll be gunning for me. And he’s indestructible. And as soon as she’s able, the Lady will be coming for me too. When’s the next thin day?’
Silhouette grimaced. ‘Not long, probably.’
‘Aren’t they six weeks apart?’
‘No. The primary thin days are the solstices, equinoxes and the quarter days in between. You know, Beltane, Lammas, Imbolc, all that shit. But those are only the primary thins. There are others.’
‘How many?’
‘It varies. Things like February twenty-ninth on leap years, blue moons, planetary alignments. All that stuff.’
Despair redoubled in Alex’s veins. ‘How many fucking days are there? Why do the Fey care about the stone when they have so many opportunities?’
‘They want nothing less than free rein, I guess. They either come and go on a thin day, which is like a blink in time for them, or they have to stay until the next thin day, with massively reduced powers. With the stone, they had full power and free rein all the time. That’s what they want back. I’m guessing the Darak as part of you is not enough. It’s only useful if you’re with them, like how they stole you away to Faerie in the first place. But if the Lady gets the Darak back, revives the Lord … Who knows how much power they’ll regain.’
‘Which brings us to something else,’ Alex said. ‘I’m still shackled. Whatever that bitch has done to me is still in place. I have no power, Sil.’ He heard the whine in his voice, the vocalisation of his desire to give everything up, and he hated it.
Silhouette hugged him. ‘I know. We’ll fix that. It’s complicated magic, I can’t unweave it. But I’m sure someone will be able to.’
‘You said you know a Fey now?’ He had trouble understanding how that had happened, but could only process so much information at any one time, so chose not to question the details.
‘Yeah, but he’s in Sydney.’ Silhouette took a breath, stood up straight. ‘Okay, here’s what we have to do. One, find an Armour base nearby. We need their protection. Hopefully they can help us hide from Hood. And undo the spell holding you. Then we can plan a course of action before the Lady comes after you.’
Alex nodded, squared his shoulders. ‘Right. Let’s just go then.’ He paused. ‘It would be a lot easier if you just ripped my throat out right here and now, you know.’
Silhouette slapped him, hard enough that his vision crossed and his ears rang. ‘Put that shit away!’ Her voice contained such fury. ‘You will not give up, Alex. You will not leave me! We still have Hood to consider. And we’ll find a way to beat that Fey cunt too.’
Alex stared into Silhouette’s icy blue eyes. Her fury was as beautiful as she was, as strong as her love. He couldn’t bear the thought of life without her. He had to assume she felt the same about losing him. Never give up the fight until you’re out cold on the floor. He nodded softly. His Sifu’s words, Silhouette’s love and fury, his own anger at how his life had become the business of so many others — all these things burned holes in his soul. He needed to use that as fuel to fight, not let it eat him up from the inside. ‘Let’s find a phone and call the Armour emergency number. There’ll be a base nearby to take us in.’
Jarrod and Jean Chang watched Hood and Darvill from a distance. The two men walked along King Street as if they owned the place, the denizens of Newtown giving them a wide berth.
‘They’re coming this way,’ Chang said, her voice trembling. She watched the tablet on her lap intently.
‘It’s okay,’ Jarrod assured her. ‘We’re safe enough here.’
They sat in an open-fronted bar, windows wide to the busy street. Two schooners of beer sat before them, untouched. Jarrod patted Chang’s knee under the table, doing his best to console her fears. She was incredibly brave to be staying with this, aside from the guilt she had described to him as they travelled. He would protect her. ‘Head down,’ he whispered as Hood and Darvill passed by on the other side of the road. They both stared at their beers.
Jarrod waited until they were a good few metres ahead. ‘I’m going to follow them. You stay here. Keep an eye on your tracker in case I lose them.’
‘What if you don’t come back?’
‘I will, don’t worry. They won’t spot me.’
Without waiting for an answer or protest, he slipped from his stool and out into the street. Hood’s shining pale bald head was easy to follow from afar. Jarrod wanted to get closer, but after all their time together in Obsidian, Darvill was sure to recognise him. Instead, he relied on his Armour training to tail a target. Easy enough in a crowded suburb like Newtown.
The men paused and consulted some notes. Darvill pointed. They crossed the road, heading for a side street. Jarrod hurried after them, paused at a shop, acted as though he was window shopping as he watched Hood and Darvill’s reflections in the glass. They stopped again a few doors along the side street, exchanged a few quick words, and went inside.
Jarrod moved along behind them. Diagonally across from the shop Hood and Darvill had entered was a back door alcove with large, wheeled bins crammed into it. Jarrod slipped behind the bins, wincing at the smell of rotten refuse. He settled into the shadows and watched. It was a black-painted store, a square plate-glass window with stencilled script, Leather & Lace. His eyes roved the mannequins on display — leather and lace indeed, corsets and masks, whips and high, shiny boots. What the hell were they doing here?
He started at a burst of noise from inside, a scream. Another crash and a splintering sound like a door being kicked in. He quickly looked out from his hiding place. No one else in the quiet side street. He couldn’t risk himself by intervening, Hood was far too dangerous. Armour was well versed in the history of Alex’s adversaries. What a fucking mess. Hood should not be walking the streets. He thought Darvill had learned something working with Alex against the Hierarchy. Clearly not. But there was nothing he could do now. Darvill and Hood didn’t have Alex and Silhouette with them and they were obviously searching for something.
Where had they been when they vanished from Chang’s tablet? Had Silhouette gone to Faerie? Would she ever make it out alive if she had? So many questions. Jarrod suppressed an impotent rage. Patience. Answers would come.
He hunkered down as movement in the shop caught his eye. Darvill and Hood emerged onto the narrow footpath.
‘Useless!’ Hood said.
Darvill raised his hands, palms up. ‘I told you, I could only track Silhouette’s recent movements. They confirmed she’d been here.’
‘Yes, but before she went to Faerie,’ Hood said, exasperated. ‘We know that and we know they got away from there. We’re still no nearer!’
Jarrod bit down on a surge of joy. Here were answers! She went to Faerie and they got away. Had Silhouette really done it? Saved Alex? He felt great pride for his half-sister.
‘That Fey fucker in there gave her the means to get to Faerie,’ Darvill said. ‘And we know he gave her a Fey artefact to help her. All information is useful.’
Hood laughed, a horrible, guttural sound. ‘That Fey fucker won’t be helping anyone else.’
‘Or his little helper. How many pieces did you leave them in?’
‘I didn’t count. But I am developing quite a taste for killing
Fey.’ Hood tapped his head. ‘My passenger here is rather enjoying it. For all his power, I think they rather abused him in the past.’
Darvill’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you controlling him, Dad? Really?’
Hood laughed again. ‘I wouldn’t go so far as to say controlling, but I’m getting a better handle on it by the hour. I will never bore of mayhem and murder though, so don’t think I will. I have a new lease on life, son! As do you, it seems, with your swordplay.’
It was Darvill’s turn to laugh. ‘Fair enough. As long as you remember I’m on your side.’
‘So what now? I want to kill Alex Caine, Claude. These delays are interminable.’
Darvill nodded, lips pursed. ‘I have a lot of info on both Alex and Silhouette. I’m good at finding things, but this is … difficult.’ He gestured into the shop. ‘That prick said Silhouette went to Faerie from a nearby gate but could have emerged anywhere. I can’t search on that scale without help.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘Let’s convene some friends back home to help me pinpoint just where in the world Alex and Silhouette have emerged. It’s a big delay, but we will find them again.’
The two men strode away, Hood cursing and bitching as they went. Jarrod sat in the stinking shadows and chewed his lip. It was a race against time to see who could get to Alex and Silhouette first. He had to mobilise a defence for them. He waited until Hood and Darvill were long gone before jogging back to the bar and Jean Chang.
‘They’re heading back towards the city,’ she said as he sat down.
He picked up the beer he had left behind, drained it. It was still cold and refreshing. ‘Yep. We have to go to Melbourne HQ and get some help.’
17
Alex and Silhouette sat in a comfortable room in London Armour HQ. One of the oldest, in a maze of catacombs beneath the city near the Thames, the aged bricks and arched ceilings were at odds with the modern equipment and industrious staff.
A man walked in, wearing a smart suit, polished shoes. He was clean-shaven, middle-aged and confident. Looks like a corporate CEO, Alex thought and immediately bristled. Even though his magic was bound, his vision was still preternaturally good and he probed the man’s persona. He was masked well, clearly a lot more than he appeared, but that was a given for most of the Armour personnel Alex had met thus far. They all had some arcane skill, some aspect of themselves best hidden from the general populace.
The smart man extended a hand. ‘Gavin Crookshank. Commander here. Excuse the ridiculous get-up, I’ve come straight from a meeting with the PM.’
Alex shook. ‘Alex Caine. This is Silhouette. The PM?’
Silhouette shook Gavin’s hand. He gestured for them all to sit. ‘Usual bollocks, nothing relevant to this situation.’ Old leather armchairs and couches were spread around the room and they sat facing each other across a low coffee table. ‘Sydney is destroyed,’ Gavin said.
‘Destroyed?’ Alex tried to parse that information and came up blank.
‘Armour HQ in Sydney, I mean, your local base. It’s been devastated.’
‘By Hood?’ Silhouette asked.
‘Yes. Apparently he and Claude Darvill tracked it down after ransacking your house and tore the place apart. Everyone’s dead.’
‘Everyone?’ Alex felt the blood drain from his face. More deaths as a direct result of his fucking life.
Silhouette stood, stricken. ‘Jarrod!’
Crookshank raised both hands. ‘I’m sorry, no, Jarrod is safe. Sorry, there’s so much in my head right now. I’m trying to get to the point quickly. There were four operatives from Sydney out in the field, and Jarrod was one of them. Everyone else there at the time has been killed. There may be others who are afield and yet to check in.’
Silhouette sank back into her chair. ‘The Commander?’
‘Dead, I’m afraid. A team from Melbourne is there now trying to get all the details. Jarrod and a friend are on their way here as we speak.’
‘Jarrod’s coming here?’ Silhouette’s mood visibly improved.
Alex was pleased for her. To lose her half-brother so soon after finding him would be devastating. But so many other lives lost. A fire grew in his gut, started to push back the black shadows of despair that lived in every corner of his being. Anger had ever been his greatest motivator. It may well still be best for him to die, to remove any threat from the Fey, but he would not let that happen until Hood and Darvill were dealt with. He had no idea how it would happen, but he would finish them both, properly and finally, one way or another.
Crookshank pulled a photo from his inside jacket pocket. It showed an Asian woman, her hair a jet-black bob around a very thin face, the cheekbones knife sharp. ‘This is Jean Chang, used to be Darvill’s right-hand man, before that a board member for Black Diamond, Hood’s organisation. She’s defected, teamed up with Jarrod. They have some intel and tech that will help us track Hood and Darvill, apparently. We’ll know more when they get here.’ He dropped the photo on the table between them. ‘Now, let’s talk about you. How the fuck did you turn up in Surrey? Last we knew, Alex was abducted by Fey and you, Silhouette, had done a runner in Sydney.’
Alex laughed, without much humour. ‘Long story.’
‘Right now we have time. I need to know everything.’
Alex nodded. He needed allies and he needed help on many fronts. He took a deep breath and started the story. Silhouette filled in details of her activities and before long they had poured out everything they knew.
‘Get that?’ Crookshank asked the ceiling.
Alex turned and looked into the glassy eye of a camera above him. He scanned the room and saw others, covering every angle. No surprise really. A voice came over a hidden speaker, broad East End accent. ‘Got it. Orders?’
Crookshank tapped his lips with clasped fingers. ‘All points looking for Hood and Darvill, obviously. I need an up-to-date list of thin days. I need every Fey expert on the fucking planet in this base yesterday. And send in Parker, she’s the best authority on the Fey I know. We need to unshackle Alex asap. Oh, and get some tea and biscuits sent in, for fuck’s sake. What are we, savages?’
‘Righto.’
Crookshank turned his attention back to Alex and Silhouette. ‘We’ll sort this. Firstly, Mr Caine, we’ll get you out of that Fey enchantment. Hopefully we’ll have some time to deal with Hood before we have to face the Lady. She will come for you.’
Alex remembered the Lady’s power, remembered the pain she had inflicted. ‘Yeah, she will.’ He hoped they got to deal with Hood first too, because then he had a definite defence against the Fey if he needed it. Silhouette put her arm around him, as if reading his mind. Her eyes were hard. He turned, kissed her, and made a mental promise that he would do everything he could to defeat the Lady before he took advantage of his final solution. He didn’t want to leave her, but under no circumstances would he let them take him again. And even as he made that promise to himself, a dark shadow in the corner of his psyche cajoled him to end it all. The escape of oblivion so close, if he just took a quiet moment to seek it.
‘Ah, tea.’
An Armour operative came in with a tray. She smiled, a friendly face under a bob of straight brown hair. She was short, all curves and soft warmth, exuding an air of safety and calm. ‘Would you prefer something else?’ she asked.
Alex smiled. ‘Tea’s fine.’ He held up a hand as she reached for the pot. He served them all, grateful beyond words to be somewhere safe for the time being.
‘This is Emma Parker,’ Crookshank said. ‘Don’t let the tea delivery fool you, she’s a formidable operative.’
Emma actually blushed. ‘Oh, Commander.’
‘Tell ’em about the time you killed two feral minotaurs barehanded.’
Emma laughed, flapped a hand. ‘They don’t need to know about that.’
Alex looked her up and down. She was well built, leaning towards chubby, but moved with the power and grace of a fighter. Proof to never judge a per
son by their outward appearance. He’d be happy to have her beside him in a fight.
‘Bloody fantastic shot too, sniper extraordinaire,’ Crookshank went on.
‘Commander, hush. Go.’ Parker pushed at his back and ushered him out of the room. He winked back over his shoulder and shut the door behind himself. ‘Don’t mind him,’ Emma said. ‘He’s a goofball.’
‘Interesting crew you’ve got here,’ Silhouette said. ‘Almost makes me homesick.’
‘Welcome home,’ Emma said. ‘Sorry about the circumstances. Now, let’s have a look at you.’ She turned her attention to Alex. ‘Got anything on under those overalls?’
‘Er, yeah, I’m wearing some training pants.’
‘Right. Off with the overalls then. It’ll be easier for me to see this magic that’s bound you up.’
Alex raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh, right, you’re the … er …’
‘Oh, sorry! Yes, resident Fey expert. Bloody Crookshank might have mentioned that, eh? The actual relevant part of my skillset. I’ve studied the Fey for decades, since my mother and I were taken by them when I was a child. I’m one of the few to ever escape.’
‘You got out?’ Silhouette asked, eyes wide. ‘As a child?’
Emma’s face darkened. ‘No. I got taken as a child. I was there for fifty years, escaped not much older than when I went in, physically at least. Fey magic.’
‘When was that?’
‘I was taken age six, in nineteen twelve. Got out in fifty-three, picked up by Armour. My arcane skills were well developed by then, secretly, of course. That’s how I got out. And I’ve been improving ever since. I know I only look about thirty-something, but you know how it is. Anyway, long story. Suffice to say I have extensive experience with the Fey and their enchantments. Now hush, strip and let me look at you.’
Alex stepped from the overalls, stood awkwardly. ‘You need me to …?’
‘Turn your head and cough?’ Emma said with a giggle. ‘No, sit down. Relax.’
Her soft face hardened as she became serious, focused. Alex watched her shades, her arcane power formidable. She probed, pushed her mind through him, her touch like a doctor palpating for lumps, but on the inside. ‘Fucking hell,’ she whispered after a while. She looked up sharply. ‘Sorry! Potty mouth.’
