by Alan Baxter
He rubbed his eyes, blinked heavily. Hood would be coming any time, the Lady not far behind. He would find himself in the middle of a maelstrom of violence and had to be ready. His brain needed rest, but he didn’t have the luxury. If Armour were preparing the war, he would be prepared to stand at its head.
He paused in his reading to consider how they might tempt Hood to them. He had half listened in on Emma’s report, Jean’s consternation. The fight would be in Wales, the Lady would come there, but would it be enough to simply reveal themselves to Hood? Previously, Alex thought that would have sufficed. Now he had a bad feeling about it. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. First and foremost, he needed to get this magic inside. He could think of ways to draw Hood in later.
‘Oh.’
Alex’s gut ran cold at Jean Chang’s tiny sound. All eyes turned to her.
Chang’s face was ashen, her lip trembled.
Emma Parker moved to put a hand on her shoulder. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’
‘This.’ Jean held up her tablet. The screen was blackened, with a large block of white text stark against it, clear enough for Alex to read from the other end of the van.
Figured it out yet, Chang, you back-stabbing bitch?
I’m sure you haven’t, you useless slag.
I suggest you tell your friend Alex to watch the news.
‘Watch the news?’ Alex said. ‘What the fuck has he done?’
Emma raised both hands as the mood in the van electrified. ‘Let’s be calm. Don’t rush into anything.’
Alex jumped down from the bed. ‘Fuck that. There’ll be a television in the pub.’
Without waiting for an answer he marched out. Fingers slipped into his and he smiled tightly at Silhouette right beside him. ‘Promise me you’ll think this through and we’ll deal with it together,’ she said.
Alex kissed her, unsure he could promise her anything of the sort. Jarrod, Jean and Emma were hot on their heels as Alex pushed open the pub door and strode in. It was busy with an early lunchtime crowd. He walked up to the bar.
‘What can I get you fine people today?’ The barman was a big man gone soft, his nose swollen and veined in accordance with the volume of his own supply he had enjoyed. His hands rested on top of two of the many pumps ranged along the highly polished, dark wood bar.
‘You have a TV here?’ Alex asked.
‘Sure.’ The barman pointed.
Around the corner, in a lounge area to the side of the low-beamed main bar, several tables and chairs were scattered. Groups of people sat, some eating pie and chips or fried fish, some drinking, all watching a soccer match on a big-screen television.
Alex walked directly up to the set. He looked all around it as people complained he was blocking their view. ‘Where’s the remote?’ he demanded of the nearest person.
‘Get fucked, pal, we’re watching the match.’
Alex felt fury rise, his face twisted. ‘This is more important than a fucking game!’
The barman barrelled out from behind the bar as Jarrod put one huge hand on the drinker’s shoulder to prevent him standing up to Alex.
‘I think you lot better go,’ the barman said, eyes betraying his fear. He had obviously been in the business long enough to know when something was about to kick off.
Others in the lounge area stood, started shouting over each other. Faces appeared from the bar, peering around the corner.
‘How do I change the channel on this fucking thing?’ Alex roared.
Silhouette reached for his hand. ‘Alex, calm down.’
He shook her off, about to reach for the barman’s throat when Emma Parker stepped forward. Her voice was bellowing, momentarily stunning from such a small and unassuming woman. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, please bear with us. Something extraordinary is happening. We need to see a news channel.’
Unnoticed in the commotion, Jean Chang had figured out the set and the channel changed. Amid hollers of annoyance and threats of violence, several programs flicked past before settling on the BBC. A harried-looking woman in a suit held a microphone. Behind her was a huge building site of some description. Clearly visible, towering up in the background, a massive crane held a bus suspended some thirty metres or more off the ground. Hands waved desperately from the bus windows. The angry vocals in the room drained away as people watched the bizarre spectacle, the reporter’s voice too low to hear.
‘Turn it up,’ someone called out.
Jean raised the volume, the reporter’s voice suddenly strident as the pub dropped into silence.
‘… police are saying this may not be a terrorist attack. They suggest, however, that there is a distinct motive at work. The site of a massive building development on the edge of Canary Wharf was raided around two hours ago by a team of soldiers in black balaclavas, carrying automatic weapons in plain sight. These people were not, repeat, not the British Armed Forces. This footage was sent to all news networks less than half an hour ago.’ The picture changed to show several shots of the soldiers described rushing every entrance of the large site, herding all the people working inside into one area near a cluster of prefab buildings. The reporter continued to talk over the images. ‘As you can see, the assault was swift and brutal. We’ve edited out two portions of film where workers tried to question the instructions they were given and were gunned down instantly. We know at least three people have been shot, presumed dead, quite possibly more.’
Alex blanched. ‘Oh, fuck me …’ Silhouette squeezed his hand, her grip enough to hurt.
‘The school bus was driven in by a man with his face concealed in a similar fashion to the attacking force,’ the reporter went on. ‘It was fixed to the crane and winched high. There are at least thirty children on board aged between eight and eighteen, possibly more. From my position here I can hear their screams and shouts for help.
‘The soldiers who secured the area are guarding every entrance behind metal barricades. You can see one such barricade behind me, and at least three heavily armed personnel behind it. When a Channel Four chopper tried to get a look into the site moments ago it came under heavy fire and had to make an emergency landing in the street outside. We’re unsure if anyone was hurt in that incident. We have been unable to get any vision inside the site. Snipers inside are taking aim at anyone they see in the windows or on the roofs of the surrounding towers.’
The shot returned to the reporter’s harried face outside the site. ‘The police are working on clearing the area and all nearby buildings. Where I’m standing now is as close as I’m allowed to go. No demands have been made. I heard from one police officer a few minutes ago that SO19 and the Army have been called in and are even now establishing a perimeter. It’s likely we’ll be moved along at any moment, but I will keep reporting until I’m no longer permitted to do so.’
‘What the fuck is he doing?’ Jean asked.
‘I think it’s pretty obvious,’ Alex said. ‘He wants me to go to him.’
‘Really?’ Emma asked.
‘Dude, who the hell are you?’ one of the diners asked. ‘You have something to do with this?’
‘I’m getting new information,’ the reporter said, one hand pressing her earpiece to hear more easily. Army personnel appeared behind her, moving along other reporters and bystanders. Two men in full infantry gear jogged up to the reporter as she spoke. ‘There’s been a ransom demand. No, my apologies, not a ransom. But a demand.’ The Army personnel yelled at the reporter to move along. The picture shook and tilted as someone out of shot dragged at the camera operator.
‘We’re cutting back to the studio for breaking news,’ the reporter said, desperately trying to look into the moving camera as she spoke, then static.
After a second, the picture resolved to a studio. A dark-skinned man in a grey suit sat behind a desk. ‘We’ve just received this video from the people who have taken control of a London building site and suspended a school bus full of students more than a hundred feet above the ground. Ap
parently every news agency has received the same footage and it’s spreading at a furious rate across all social media.’
Another moment of static, then the screen filled with Robert Hood’s insanely grinning face. ‘Hello, world!’
Alex felt his knees weaken for a split second before rage washed through him. ‘Fuck!’
‘I suspect you’re wondering what on Earth is going on,’ Hood said. ‘I do apologise for making this so public, but who doesn’t love a bit of drama, eh? I bet you’re all wetting your pants in excitement. So sorry to disappoint, but this is actually a rather personal campaign. Are you watching, Alex Caine?’ Hood leaned close to the camera, his face distorting. ‘I want you! Come to me, or this bus drops and all those kiddies die. Can you handle that, Caine? Another bus load of lives to add to your tally? All so young. I think not! Anyone who approaches this site will be shot, except Caine. Only you are allowed in, Alex. You coming?’ Hood’s face twisted into a moment of deranged laughter before he pulled swiftly back from the camera. His features contorted, he slapped himself violently twice across the cheek and the film cut.
The picture returned to the newsreader at his desk, his eyes betraying shock at the demand from Hood. ‘So … so there you have it. Apparently someone called Alex Caine is at the heart of all this. We are looking into that now and will report more on this bizarre situation as and when we can.’
‘Are you him?’ someone yelled.
‘The fuck is this?’ another said.
Alex turned and forced his way past grabbing hands. Silhouette ran with him. ‘Alex, you can’t go.’
‘Thirty children, Sil? Or more. I have to go.’
Emma Parker hurried up to his other side. ‘We have to plan this. We can’t go blundering in. We have a plan we need to stick to.’
Alex turned to her, his eyes dark with anger. ‘No, you can’t go blundering in. No one can. Except me. You heard him.’ He strode into the pub car park, his friends quickly gathering around him. People crowded in the doorway behind them.
Alex looked to Jean Chang. ‘You can send him a message, right?’ She nodded. ‘Tell him I’m coming, but it’s going to take me a while to get there.’
‘Alex, no!’
‘What else can I do, Sil? I will not have more lives lost on my account. Children! He’s calling me out. When that happens, I fight. Haven’t you been telling me all along to fight?’
‘Not like this. Not on his terms!’
‘There are no other terms. Fuck it, Sil, let Hood kill me! Then the Fey threat is gone, right? I’ll take him down with me if I can. If not, he’s Armour’s fucking problem. But no more deaths on me!’
‘Alex, please …’
A motorcycle pulled into the car park. The rider put the stand down, pulled his helmet off and hooked it on one handlebar. He watched the fracas with an interested expression.
Alex pushed past Jarrod and Silhouette. ‘I need your bike, mate.’
The biker laughed. ‘Get fucked!’
Alex saw the keys still in the ignition. The biker saw Alex’s face and made to step back onto his vehicle. As he raised his leg, Alex gathered his magic and pulled all the air around them in one stiff column of wind, forced it into the biker’s chest. The man flew back, hit the ground with a grunt.
Silhouette and Emma ran over, pulled at Alex. Jarrod started towards him. He drew the air back and forced it into a shield between them. As his friends staggered away and fell, he paused, shamed by Silhouette’s stricken expression.
‘I love you so much, Sil.’ He grabbed the helmet, jammed it onto his head as he hopped onto the bike. As Jarrod ran for him, and Silhouette and Emma picked themselves up, he turned the key and hit the starter. The biker was on his feet, running for him in a spitting rage. Without another glance, Alex kicked the bike into gear and roared away. He hit the brake, slewed around a car passing on the narrow street, and shot towards the main road.
He knew which way was south. That would get him towards a motorway in the general direction of London. He would have to find his way from there. The roads in this country were well signposted. He had gained a lot of knowledge from Halliday’s grimoire. Not nearly enough, probably, but a lot. He twinged inside at the realisation he had left the valuable book in the camper. But there was no more time for reading. His friends would protect it for him. His friends. He hoped they would forgive him, but no more deaths on his hands. No more!
Maybe he could figure out a way to make the magic he had absorbed work. He hammered onto the main A591 at dangerous speed, wondering what he could come up with in the way of a plan before he reached Hood. He figured that even with a fast bike it would take him a few hours to get there, so he had time to think. And hopefully Jean would convince Hood to wait.
Silhouette screamed inside and ran for the van. ‘We’ll never keep up, but we have to follow!’
No one argued with her. Parker was babbling into her phone already, barking orders about tracking but not intercepting. She quoted the motorcycle’s registration number. Silhouette reluctantly, and silently, admitted that was good thinking. She hadn’t seen it. Hell, she didn’t even know what type of bike it was.
‘Yamaha F1,’ Emma barked. ‘Red and charcoal.’
Oh, fuck you, bitch, Silhouette thought.
Jarrod moved past her. ‘Let me drive, yeah? You’re too emotional.’
She was about to chew him out for even suggesting such a thing when she realised that only proved him right. ‘Yeah, okay.’ She dropped into the passenger seat as Jarrod backed the van out and followed Alex.
The bike was long out of sight. The biker stood halfway along the road, yelling into his phone. He hammered on the side of the van as they passed, his eyes wild. Probably shocked by Alex’s magic gust as much, if not more, than by the blatant bike theft.
Parker talked rapidly to whoever was on the other end of the line, something about how slow they were. Come on, Silhouette thought. Do something to help us.
‘We’ll catch up somehow,’ Jarrod said, one hand briefly patting her knee. ‘He’s got back-up in you and me. Just like Obsidian.’
‘I hope there’s something we can do.’
Jarrod grinned. ‘That Hood fucker said they’d shoot anyone who approached the site. They’d have to see us though. We’ve got skills, right?’
Silhouette couldn’t help a slight smile, despite her worry. ‘Yeah, we’re badass.’
‘We’ll get there and we’ll help him.’
Emma appeared between the seats. ‘Righto, lovelies, bit of a fucking spanner in the works, obviously. Still, we play the cards we’re dealt. There’s no way to get the teams from the battleground we’d organised all the way to London to face Hood now. And we can’t have massed magical battles in the heart of the capital anyway. We need to try to draw Hood back up here and stick with the original plan.’
Silhouette opened her mouth to protest, but Emma held up a hand to cut her off. ‘We’re not going to let him face Hood alone. You might not like this, but it’ll be best to let that bus drop.’
‘What?’ Jean Chang’s voice from the back was high with shock.
‘Far bigger things at stake here. It’s all about acceptable collateral. I know that’s a terribly harsh thing to say, but bear with me. Jarrod, get us as far as Stafford. One unit of Armour battlemages will meet us there with a chopper and we’ll get to London ahead of Alex. Another chopper is heading off to track and follow him. It’s more than four hours’ drive from here. Three even if he continues to ride like a maniac and doesn’t crash or get pulled over.’
‘He’s a good rider,’ Silhouette said. ‘Had bikes since he was a teenager.’
‘Well, at least he shouldn’t stack it then.’
Silhouette’s eyebrows rose. ‘Can’t you lot tip off the police and have him caught?’
‘Well, we could, but it might complicate things too much. Alex wouldn’t let them take him, would he? Might get messy. If they do catch him, we shouldn’t have any trouble taking ove
r, but best to keep this in-house. We’ll try to track and intercept him before London but that could be dangerous. Anyway, assume he makes it to London. We’ll be there first. We can get him then rather than try to catch him while he’s riding and risk an accident. Then we get him away again. If London Armour hadn’t been destroyed, we’d have plenty of operatives there, but we’ve a bit of a hole in our defences in old Londinium right now. So we’ll cope as best we can. If we can find a way to stop him along the way, we will. If not, we wait for him to arrive and spirit him away before he engages Hood.’
‘And just let all those children die?’ Jean asked.
‘I’m afraid so, dear. We can’t risk the operation.’
‘You’re a cold woman,’ Silhouette said, though she begrudgingly had to admit that Parker probably had the size of their situation about right. She didn’t like her, and didn’t think for a minute she would treat any of them any differently to those poor kids if the situation demanded it, but Parker was bloody efficient under pressure and a solid leader.
Parker squeezed Silhouette’s shoulder. ‘I am cold, I know. Have been for many long decades. Believe me, I don’t sleep well at night sometimes.’
24
Alex roared along the M6 past Coventry, heading for the M1 junction that would take him directly to the heart of London. It would be late and quite dark by the time he arrived, but maybe that would be for the best. Less chance of cameras getting much coverage. He glanced at the speedometer, shuddering around the 130 mph mark. He made a quick mental calculation. He was travelling at over 200 kph. He fervently hoped no police took notice of him. The last thing he needed was a highway patrol chase.
Grimacing with indecision, he eased off the throttle a bit and dropped to a steady one hundred. But that was still thirty miles per hour over the legal limit. Fuck it. He cranked the speed back up. Take his chances with the cops and get to London as quickly as possible.
Hammering through the winter night, he was so cold. He gathered his magic, used elemental control to warm his hands, to build an eldritch shell of protection around himself from the biting winds. And he marvelled at how casually he did so, how easily magic had become an intrinsic part of his life. He didn’t want to lose it. But he was prepared to lose everything.
