Reaper's Legacy tc-2

by Tim Lebbon

  She weaved the car along the streets, passing between parked or crashed vehicles when she could, working to shove a path through when she could not. She quickly learned that low gear and low revs was best for pushing an obstacle out of the way, but several times they had to backtrack to find an alternative route. Sometimes this took them into narrow side streets or even the back lanes between house gardens, and perhaps it was a trick of the light, but she saw many shadows darting away.

  We’re being watched all the time, she thought. It was a chilling idea. But it didn’t matter. Andrew was somewhere ahead of her, always ahead. Soon, she hoped, she would find him. And then this part of her journey would be over.

  What came next would depend on who or what Andrew had become.

  “I never thought I’d see you scared,” Lucy-Anne said. Dawn was breaking across the rooftops to the east, and Hampstead Heath was close. Their journey had been slow but uninterrupted, a mummified corpse sat in the seat behind her, and a dozen rooks perched around the car, swaying in time with its movement and occasionally calling out for no apparent reason. It was a surreal journey, and she needed it broken.

  “What, you think I’m some sort of super human?”

  “Don’t you?”

  Rook smiled. It was the first time she’d seen him smiling since dusk the previous evening, and it looked good on him.

  “I feel…” He sighed, and a rook hopped down from his shoulder onto his knee. It pecked at a fly buzzing the window, its beak striking the glass with a musical tink!

  “Feel what?”

  “Different. I feel different.”

  “You are different.”

  “And abandoned. Do you have any idea what it’s like? Can you even think about how it felt after Doomsday, when London was filled with dead people and I was left…alone. We survived for a time, me and my brother. We thought there’d be rescue attempts. But then they took him, and I was alone, and I knew that was it. So yeah, I’m different. I’ve moved on. London’s the whole world now, but that doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes get scared. Doesn’t everyone?”

  “Everyone human, yeah. Dunno about the Superiors.” She glanced sidelong at him when she said this, but she already knew what he thought about them. He was as much Superior as he was Irregular. Rook was one of the few who was completely his own person. His only allegiance was to his birds.

  And now perhaps to her as well.

  “Slow down,” he said. “Need to find out where we are.”

  She slowed the car at a road junction but left it running, and Rook opened his window. The rooks in the car with them took flight immediately, flitting through the window and spiralling up above the car. Lucy-Anne leaned over the steering wheel and looked up, but they were quickly lost to dawn’s glare.

  “So what else have you heard about the north?” she asked. “Those weird gargoyle people. And snake people. I’ve seen nothing like them before.”

  “Just that it’s where the monsters came.” A bird fluttered through the window and landed on his shoulder, and moments later he glanced at Lucy-Anne. “Hampstead Heath’s half a mile from here.”

  “Half a mile.” If that Sara woman was right…if Andrew was still alive, and not changed like those other weird things…if Rook was telling her the truth.

  “Maybe we should walk from here,” he said.

  “Yeah,” Lucy-Anne said. A distance was growing around her. She frowned and ground a knuckle into her thigh to wake herself up.

  “Or perhaps a rest.” Rook’s voice was farther away now.

  “No time,” she said. “No time to…” But her eyelids drooped, and she could not remember the last time she’d had a good sleep. The release of stress now that she’d stopped driving the car allowed her weariness to the fore.

  “Don’t worry,” she heard him say, and his hand was warm on her arm. “I’ll look after you.” His voice, so distant; his words, such a comfort.

  She was already dreaming as she fell asleep, and the woman was waiting for her.

  She feels Andrew close by but can’t find him. His presence is overwhelming, as though he has just spoken to her or given her a playful pinch on the arm, like he used to when they were kids. She turns a full circle and expects to see him at any moment, but nothing around her is normal.

  A dream.

  At first she is alone. The sense of Andrew is strong, but it’s as if he has been found and lost again, and suddenly he is a memory once more. She sobs out loud. So unfair.

  She is somewhere wild in this old city. The undergrowth is overgrown and lush, luxuriating in freedom from shears and mowers—grass touches her shins, shrubs hang heavy, tree limbs have fallen across barely visible paths. Once this might have been a pleasant place to wander and reflect, but now it is back with nature.

  I’m dreaming…

  She walks towards a vague structure in the distance. It is artificial, she is sure, but its edges are blurred with ivy and time. Shapes around it might once have been picnic tables, but they’ve fallen into disrepair and been subsumed beneath rampant plant growth. There is a flash of colour inside, a hint of movement. She is troubled but excited, and deep inside she knows who and what this is.

  But the Lucy-Anne in her dream—bearing her consciousness, carrying her mind—is a different person. She walks towards the building, even though she knows she should flee. She raises a hand and waves, attracting the attention of the woman inside, even though she is dreadfully aware of what will come next.

  No…turn…run…

  The strange woman parts a curtain of beautiful hanging plants and emerges from the building. She’s dressed plainly, yet even set against the gorgeous flowers she is stunning. Her hair drifts around her head like she is forever falling, her face is serene, and as she turns away a small smile lights her features. But the smile is not for Lucy-Anne, because the woman starts walking away.

  She skirts around the building and moves quickly into the park.

  Wait! Lucy-Anne tries to shout, but she has no voice.

  Call her…make a voice…this is my dream and I must—

  The flash. Unbearably bright, it shadows the woman from every direction and scorches her silhouette into the ground all around her. Leaves wither, flowers crumple, branches snap, and trees fall. A firestorm rips through the park and scorches everything to charcoal, and then the blast takes it apart. But the woman still stands, untouched and untouchable.

  And Lucy-Anne feels the terrible truth of this scene.

  In the distance a mushroom cloud deforms the sky, and there is a breath-stealing sense of time running out.

  “I’m dreaming!” she shouted, and Rook was holding her arms, leaning in the driver’s door and shaking her awake. Her eyes snapped open and she looked up at him, so pleased that he was there. She breathed easier. “I’m dreaming.”

  “No more,” he said, and he seemed excited. “Come on. You gotta see this.” Then he was away, and she had to leap from the car and start running to keep up with him.

  Daylight seemed kinder to this part of London. Shaking the horrors of her dream, she hoped that the day would be kind to her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  JOINING FORCES

  “Back to Breezer?” Sparky spat. “Are you out of your tiny, birdlike bloody mind?”

  “Probably,” Jack said, nodding. “Maybe.” He was looking at Jenna, expecting a reaction from her as well. But she was grim-faced and silent. She seemed to understand, and he was impressed once again with his friend’s quiet intelligence.

  “Why? We almost killed ourselves escaping him and coming here, now you want to go back?”

  “Reaper doesn’t know where Camp H is.”

  “Like hell!” Sparky said.

  “Really?” Jenna frowned, then nodded slowly. “If he did, he’d have hit it long before now.”

  “I’m guessing so,” Jack said. He sighed and sat down, taking a long swig from a mug of tea. There was food on the small table in their room as well—tinned beans, potatoes�
�but he didn’t feel hungry.

  “So…” Sparky said, tapping a finger against his chin as he thought, “you persuaded your dad to join forces with Irregulars.”

  “I don’t think I persuaded him to do anything. I made the suggestion and gave my reasons, and he saw some use in the idea. I think he saw me, and Mum and Emily, as a way to save face. If he went to the Irregulars on his own, it’d be like admitting he needs their help. Doing it this way, he can say it’s me who needs the help.”

  “Well, it is,” Jenna said.

  “Yeah,” Sparky said. “Loser.”

  Jack went for him. A dig in the thigh gave Sparky a dead leg, but as Jack tried to get him in a headlock, Sparky twisted and reversed the position. His arm closed around Jack’s throat, and he rubbed the top of his head with his knuckles. It hurt, but Jack felt wonderful. For a moment it was as if nothing had changed.

  “Use your deadly powers against me if you will, but I will always triumph!” Sparky said. He ran his knuckles across Jack’s scalp again.

  “Ow!” Jack said, his voice muffled. “You bastard, that—”

  “Resistance is futile!”

  “Yeah, right,” Jack said, and he relaxed, then drove his fist into Sparky’s thigh again. They tumbled to the floor together, wrestling, laughing, and catching sight of Jenna rolling her eyes only made Jack laugh some more.

  “Kids,” she said. As Jack and Sparky’s laughter died down and they sat up, Jenna looked at Jack softly and asked, “So. Your dad?”

  Jack breathed heavily, catching his breath. He felt tears threaten, and a surprising rush of emotions flooded through him. His friends watched expectantly, and they were the good friends they’d always been, no matter what was happening to him. He knew that they feared him. But he was also starting to fear himself.

  “He’s still there,” Jack said. “I did something to him. Forced some memories onto him, good times we had as a family. I sort of…pressed them in while we were talking.”

  “And?” Jenna asked.

  “And for a moment, he looked like my dad again.” Jack didn’t feel as pleased as he should have.

  “But you want him to be your dad without you doing anything,” Sparky said.

  “Yeah,” Jack said, nodding. Sparky had it in one. “Yeah, course I do.”

  “Well, we’re mixed up with him again now,” Jenna said. “Maybe when he sees your mum.”

  “Or Emily,” Sparky said. “How could he fail to love Emily?”

  “It’s all so shit,” Jack said softly. “Who’d have thought it would have come to this?”

  “We knew what we were doing when we came in,” Jenna said.

  “No,” Sparky said. “We didn’t. Not a clue. We came because we were desperate.”

  The three of them fell silent at that, because Sparky was right. Jack had been desperate to discover the fate of his parents, Sparky his brother, and Jenna had come because of what the Choppers had done to her father—arrested because of his investigations into Doomsday, and returned a changed, lesser man.

  That’s why we came, Jack thought. We had no intention of leading a crusade.

  “So you’re going to ask Breezer and his people to help your dad,” Jenna said.

  “Between Breezer and Reaper and their people, they should be able to discover the location of Camp H,” Jack said.

  “So how do we do that and avoid detection by the Choppers?” Sparky asked.

  Jack smiled. This was where it got interesting.

  Dawn across a silent London, and a glorious sunrise gave the cityscape the look of an expressionist painting. Clouds boiled pink, looking beautiful and promising rain, and the city was sheened with promise. If I didn’t know any better I might take it as a sign, Jack thought. But in these strange times, perhaps that was exactly what it was.

  “Gorgeous,” Sparky said.

  “Girl,” Jenna said. He nudged her in the ribs, she pinched his arm. Then they leaned in together, keeping contact and taking comfort. Jack experienced a fleeting memory of him and Lucy-Anne when they had still been close. He didn’t think whatever had been between them had been anything like this.

  “What?” Jenna asked self-consciously.

  “You two,” Jack said. His friends glanced at each other.

  “I took pity on her,” Sparky said. “Someone had to love her.”

  “He’s such a loser, he needs looking after,” Jenna said.

  You going to stand here farting around all day? The voice came from behind Jack, and when he glanced back he saw a shadow moving away from him, flowing against the old market’s front façade. Shade. Even his voice was like a shadow, a thing not truly there. When Reaper had called Shade to him and told him what was happening, Jack had shaken his hand, and it had felt…not quite there. He was nothing like Fleeter. She was solid and real, and able to shift between blinks and heartbeats. Shade was something that Evolve had moved to a different realm of reality. He was out of synch, and when Jack had squeezed his hand he’d felt a moment of sickening vertigo, as if he was about to tumble an unimaginable distance. Perhaps I could find his talent within me, he’d thought, but I really don’t want to.

  “No,” Jack said. “We’re going.”

  “Don’t like him as a bodyguard,” Sparky said. “Spooky bastard.” He didn’t bother keeping his voice down.

  “We’re taking Breezer what he wants, surely?” Jenna said. “Hooking up with the Superiors?”

  “Maybe,” Jack said. “But I think since meeting me, he might want me more.”

  They set off. Shade moved with them, and sometimes he was as visible as someone normal. He wore jeans, a shirt, and a jacket, all black, and his short cropped hair was the same colour. His skin was very pale. He did not smile. The world seemed to weigh on his shoulders, and Jack wondered whether gravity had become his enemy.

  More often, Jack caught sight of Shade from the corner of his eye. Then he would be a shadow brought to life, flowing through the streets like darkness given form. Sparky and Jenna were jumpy, and Jack knew they were seeing the same thing.

  They were probably wondering whether Jack could do that, too.

  It felt strange approaching the skyscraper they had so recently escaped. Yesterday they had leaped from the roof of this building in a rickety hang glider, trusting their lives to fate. Coming back made the memory of that escape unreal.

  “Bloody high, isn’t it?” Sparky said.

  “We’d have made a mess on the pavement.” Jenna was clasping Sparky’s hand, and Jack could not shake the growing feeling that he was alone. Left out. He hated it, because there was a selfishness to that thought.

  “It might be best if you…” Jack started saying, but Shade was no longer there. They heard breaking glass from somewhere, a shout, and then several more voices joining in. They sounded confused and scared.

  “So much for diplomacy,” Sparky said.

  “Come on,” Jack said. “I’m hoping this’ll be pretty easy.”

  The three men and two women on the ground floor of the office building let them pass when they saw Jack. They were all surprised, but he also saw an element of respect as well. Maybe their daring escape had livened up these people’s day.

  They climbed, and Shade led the way. He flowed up the stairs, moving from shadow to shadow and making it appear that the stairwell was flexing and bulging, some monstrous gullet sucking them upwards. After fifteen storeys doors started opening behind them as they passed, and faces peered into the stairwell to watch them go. Several people followed them, including two women bearing rifles. But no one spoke.

  Breezer was waiting for them on the twentieth floor. He leaned against the stair railing, looking down casually as they climbed the last flight towards him. They were panting hard, sweating from the climb, and Jack had been ignoring the temptation to dip into his powers to find something to help. His friends could not do that. He wanted to work as hard as them.

  They stopped on the landing. Shade was a flight below them, standing
in the corner and almost not there. He said nothing, only watched. The threat exuding from him was overt and did not require voicing.

  “You owe me a hang glider,” Breezer said.

  “Bill me,” Sparky said. “My address is 55 Don’t-give-a-shit Avenue.”

  Breezer looked past them at Shade and quickly looked away again.

  “You told me you weren’t really the leader here,” Jack said. “I’m hoping that was a lie.”

  “Hoping?”

  Jack sighed, probed, grasped a point of light inside, squeezed it tight. A rush of information. He used Breezer’s talent against him. “It’s how the others see you,” he said. “You’re strong. Resourceful. And you never were a heating engineer.”

  “Oh,” Breezer said. “Well. That’s a pretence I’ve kept up since Doomsday.”

  “So what was he?” Jenna asked.

  “Police,” Jack said. “Serious Organised Crime squad.”

  “Amazing,” Breezer said. “How do you do it? What does it feel like?”

  “Unnatural,” Jack said. He closed his mind to what Nomad had given him and spat, trying to rid himself of her taste.

  “Hungry?” Breezer asked.

  “Burgers?” Sparky asked hopefully.

  Breezer laughed. It was such a natural, unforced sound that it put Jack instantly at ease, and he glanced back at Shade and gestured.

  “Come on,” Jack said. “You do eat, don’t you?”

  Not so anyone would notice.

  “Fine.” Jack followed Sparky and Jenna through the doorway, and as it swung shut he saw Shade slip through from the corner of his eye. Their guard. Jack was already quite certain he would not be required.

  The same cooking barrel, the same people around them, but this time Breezer seemed more deferential. He had underestimated Jack and his friends last time. Now, they had proved themselves more resourceful than he could have imagined.

  “So you went to your father,” Breezer said. He glanced around the open-plan office, looking for Shade. Dawn sunlight bathed them, casting shadows behind screens and in doorways, and Shade could have been anywhere. “Got one of his monsters protecting you.”