Skeebs kept sitting straighter in his seat, rubbing at his eyes, desperate to stay awake.
The radio muttered Russian nothings, too low to be heard. The road made the sound of a chorus as it disappeared beneath them. They still had hours before they reached the train yard.
Amanda hugged herself against the cold trying to get beneath her ribs, her thoughts and feelings draining out into the dark outside. She missed her family, she missed Simon but she felt as empty as the landscape around her, her numbness interrupted by bright, roaring emotion as rarely as a passing truck. It would paralyse her, gut her, chill her all at once and be gone again just as quickly.
Half a snore and Skeebs startled. Snapping himself awake, the boy struggled to sit straighter, only to start drifting away again.
She made no move to wake him. Let him have his nightmares. Maybe he’d mutter some clue on how he managed to escape Reeves the day the demon broke loose. She knew that’s where he went every time he closed his eyes. It was there in the way he twitched and moaned, the things he cried out.
AK had insisted that maybe, just maybe, there was something useful in the boy’s head, some key to them all surviving if he could only be persuaded to talk without descending into a panic attack.
Amanda doubted it, she’d asked him often enough. But then again, you never could tell. The boy had been good once, someone she could work with. He wasn’t stupid or a coward, which only served to make the affect Reeves had on him all the more worrying.
But then they were all broken, the three of them, their lives changed by the thing in the steel box. Driven by the hope that killing the real demon would help them exorcise those they carried with them. Each of them had their minds fixed on a future.
The trouble was that Skeebs’ involved Amanda being dead.
And all because of the last job they had pulled together and what it had cost Skeebs’ brother, Danny.
Eighteen months earlier
Amanda had been worried the plan wasn’t going to work until the men jabbed their guns at her.
The air filling with barked orders to get on the ground, she raised her hands and made sure her crew did the same.
Caleb gave her the slightest nod, the phone ready in his hand, screen visible for everyone to see.
Danny was having a harder time, hands barely up past his waist, unable to wash the smirk from his face.
The air had thickened with the taste of magic – due no doubt to the two women still sitting in the back of one of the shiny black Mercedes that the men had arrived in. She could see them, side by side, hands moving fluidly from shape to shape, lips forming incantations.
One would be projecting a glamour, Amanda surmised. Whoever happened to look in their direction would see nothing but an empty garage forecourt under the DLR – lights off, and chain-link gates locked.
The other Abra would be the reason that Amanda could feel but not hear the train grinding along its tracks overhead. These men could gun her down and it wouldn’t disturb the homeless guy shuffling down the street not ten feet away.
The three of them were on their knees now. Amanda could see herself in the reflections of the men’s shades. There were eight of them, suits, cropped haircuts, the works. Private contractors.
A couple didn’t have guns. Instead they weaved hexes between their fingers and under their breaths. Amanda could already feel the magic slipping up and under the muscles in her arms, making them grow stiff, hot and heavy. More effective than any handcuffs.
And here came their employer in a car of his very own – another Mercedes indistinguishable from the others.
Lord Camberley was every bit as tall as he appeared on television. It was strange seeing the man she’d followed so closely in the media. For weeks, Amanda had scrutinised him in photos, videos, surveillance. Listened to him push for legalised magic, read his pieces in the broadsheets, watched him forcefully deny involvement with pro-magic extremists.
The fact that he was here in front of them called bullshit on that particular issue. Amanda wondered how much a journalist would have paid to catch him here, looking to trade cash for magical contraband.
The lord looked over the criminals on their knees before him. Their arms were already starting to tremble with the pain of the hex worming like hot needles through their tendons. He sniffed, unimpressed.
The lord had brought a PA with him. The lad’s expensive suit and three-figure haircut did little to disguise his nerves. He fidgeted with the briefcase in his hands, palms sweating, and eagerly obeyed when Camberley instructed it be opened.
Trying to look like he’d attended a hundred shady deals, the PA flipped the case onto the flat of his arm. The catches clicked loudly, the only sound to be heard beneath the Abra’s silence enchantment.
The briefcase was empty.
It was as empty, in fact, as the stack of wooden crates in the back of Amanda’s van. The stack she’d already assured Camberley’s men were filled with all the Abra contraband – herbs, spices, instruments and inks – that an illegal network of pro-magic ‘legalise it’ hippies and pseudo-intellectuals could need to further their cause.
She’d already made a mint selling these crates up and down the country. It was almost embarrassing. All she’d had to do was wave a few genuine samples around, make her prices reasonable, and desperate Abras everywhere had fallen over themselves to meet in secluded locations, money in hand. The look on their faces when they were robbed had been priceless.
This transaction, however, was working out a mite different.
‘It has taken me not some considerable effort to have you tracked down,’ said Camberley. ‘And some expense as well.’
‘Yeah well here we are, then,’ sneered Danny. ‘Took you long enough.’
Amanda bit her tongue, unwilling to risk shooting the boy a dirty look. When it came down to it, you had to trust your crew and right now she had to trust Danny to not be so stupid as to shoot his wad too soon.
‘Well that proves which one you are,’ Camberley replied. ‘You may all recall that you pulled a scam like this two months ago and left the man you robbed in serious need of medical attention.’
‘Yeah, I remember,’ said Danny. ‘Mouthed off, didn’t he?’
‘He may never recover full use of his hand. You were already robbing him of the money he had brought in good faith. Why be so small minded and take his wallet? He struggles to perform even the most basic spells left-handed.’ The twist on Camberley’s face revealed how he felt about that. It was a look he wouldn’t let anywhere near a camera lens. ‘Would you have done it if you’d known that he worked for me?’
‘Probably have done both hands,’ Danny grinned. ‘Still jerk off can’t he?’
‘Enough, Danny,’ said Amanda. She could see the anger building on Camberley’s countenance.
Camberley turned to her, looking her up and down. Until then he’d not given her the slightest notice, people like him often overlooked the black woman, she imagined, but not today. ‘I don’t know who you are. No one mentioned a woman.’
‘Call me the brains of the operation. Anything you got to say you address it to me.’
Camberley moved to stand over her. Amanda fought not to flinch as he cupped her chin, lifting her head.
‘I would hardly say “brains” is the appropriate term,’ the man sniffed. ‘But if that’s the case then I bring that same question to you. If you had known that your victims were associates of mine would you have done the same?’
Her arms were screaming with pain now. She wouldn’t have been able to throw a punch even if she’d allowed herself to.
‘No.’
‘And what are you going to do now that you know?’
‘We can get you the money back. What’s left of it.’
‘No…’ The man sighed, grimacing as though at a bitter taste. Of course they had already frittered the money away. Criminals had no self-control. ‘You can keep the money. I am much more interested in the contraband you
were promising. The samples you had were very high quality, suggesting that you do have access to such things. Would that be correct?’
‘We know people. But—’
‘Then I would like very much to be put in touch with those people immediately. I have funds readily available if they are able to produce their goods within an hour.’
‘We can do that for you, yes.’
‘Then I suggest you get started. But if I perceive even a hint of trickery then you will find that the rumours of our prowess at disposing of bodies hold a lot truth.’
‘Heard you know all about making things disappear,’ said Danny. He was referring to a scandal a few years back. A journalist, claiming to have had proof that Camberley was taking money from pro-magic governments in South America, had disappeared.
There’d never been any proof that Camberley had been involved but, to some, the body shot the nearest bodyguard delivered to Danny’s midriff was proof enough.
Danny doubled over, gasping for breath.
Camberley’s eyes were bright at the sight of retribution, drinking in the boy’s pain. He turned back to Amanda. ‘Call them. Now.’
Which was the perfect time for Caleb’s phone to start ringing – the jolly little tune of an incoming video call.
All eyes were drawn to the screen.
Amanda watched the first flicker of doubt cross Camberley’s face when he saw the caller ID. ‘Lady Camberley.’
‘Think we should answer that?’ asked Amanda.
‘What is that?’ asked Camberley. ‘Yes. Yes, answer it.’
Caleb opened the call.
‘You there?’ Amanda called.
‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.’ If Danny was the pinnacle of youthful arrogance, his kid brother, Skeebs, was the opposite. The boy’s face filled the screen, anxious and eager to please. ‘You there? We’re ready, I got them right here. I got them.’
The camera lurched around.
Grit cracked under foot as a half dozen people craned to see the little screen.
There was the briefest impression of an empty room; bare red brick, warped floorboards, somewhere old and pokey. Then two people came into view, tied to chairs – a teen boy and a smartly dressed woman – bags over their heads.
‘Courtney?’ the blood drained from Camberley’s face at the sight of his wife.
‘Amazing who you bump into shopping, isn’t it?’ said Amanda. ‘Any one of your men gets on the radio, they’re dead. Anyone tries to hex us, they’re dead. Understand? This isn’t your trap, it’s ours.’
‘Motherfucker,’ Danny, still squirming in the dirt, forced the words out around the pain in his gut.
‘Get her to cut the binding,’ Amanda nodded to the Abra by the car. ‘Now.’
Camberley was too shocked to do anything but nod.
The hex left all at once. Amanda gave a sigh of relief. She rubbed at her arms as she climbed to her feet. Camberley was still a foot and a half taller but she could look him in the eye now.
‘We’ve been trying to get your attention for months now. Should have beat on one of your guys sooner. What’s money to a rich person? All you care about is your pride. Or your legacy.’ She thumbed back towards the pair whimpering on the screen.
‘You have no idea what you’ve done,’ said Camberley.
‘Oh, I have an idea. See, I knew a chat like we’re about to have has to be done in private. No cameras, no soundbites, no uncompromising bullshit. Here it’s just a guy, talking to a woman who wants all that money he brought with him in exchange for his family back. So when he compromises, no one needs to know.’
The lord opened his mouth but Amanda held up a hand.
‘And let’s skip the part where you say “what money?”. You’ve already said you had it.’
‘“Readily available,” he said,’ said Caleb.
‘We figured, a man like yourself would want to see his rivals under his heel,’ she waved around at the men toting guns and hexes, the Abras in the backseat. ‘Especially if it already looked like they’d bested him once. He’d want to see what shapes their faces made in the dirt. Fair enough. He’s only human. But, see, a man like that, he needs to feel like he’s better than everyone else. He doesn’t just hit back like some common thug. No. See, he takes his defeat and makes a win out of it. Like that defeat was just part of some bigger plan where he was always on top. He’d still want the merchandise. He’d want to go over our heads, make a deal with our suppliers so we would end up working for him. He’d want us taking his shit, week in, week out, knowing he was smarter. But to do that, he’d need to bring the money if he was looking to make a fast, hard deal. But…’ Amanda waved to the phone again. ‘You’re just going to give that money to us. And you can start by having your guys lower those weapons.’
The pair on the screen shifted and snivelled in their chairs. Even through the tinny speakers it was clear that their mouths were gagged.
Danny was starting to recover, slowly uncurling from around his bruised gut.
All eyes were on the lord. His fists were clenched, jaw too, the man might as well have been a statue of himself. His eyes were fixed on the screen.
This was that moment, Amanda thought. You distracted them, you pulled them in, letting them think they were winning and then flipped them about until they couldn’t see straight. Then, if you’d done everything right, you could just stand back and watch them defeat themselves.
The truth was that there had been no way that Amanda and her crew could get near Camberley’s wife and boy. Security was too tight and it would have been impossible to determine every protection spell that had been quietly placed on them.
But what you could do was watch them a long while, get to know their routine and their wardrobe. Then on the day of the job, you took note of what mother and son were wearing and dressed two similarly shaped friends in the same clothes. Put them on a small screen, show it from a distance and no one dared look too closely. No one was easier to reel in than someone used to control and no one easier to control than someone who felt they had none.
‘Kid?’ Amanda called. ‘Looks like the lord’s going to need more convincing.’
Skeebs obliged. The camera wobbled as the boy rushed to raise the pistol, turning the weapon around for the audience.
‘We can start with your son’s kneecap,’ she said. Something animal inside her purred when her mark swallowed, his Adam’s apple dipping as though he was fighting down a billiard ball. That was the moment she knew she had him.
‘All right,’ he said. The men lowered their guns, placed them down on the ground and kicked them over.
First rule on a job, you make sure your crew are OK at every stage.
Caleb needed a hand getting up off his knees. Amanda obliged. She looked him in the eye and knew from the look her old friend gave back that he was ready for stage two.
Danny on the other hand…
She shouldn’t have taken him for this gig. She’d called that wrong. Danny and Skeebs were cool as quicksilver when it came to a bank or a vault, they’d proved that plenty of times. But, like Camberley, Danny always had to be the one on top and where Danny led, his younger more reliable brother, followed.
Now he’d been made to look weak, Danny had something to prove.
Before Amanda could reach him, the boy had scooped up the nearest dropped pistol. He raised it with a wide smile, pointing it in the face of the guard who had hit him. ‘Punch me, motherfucker?’
They hadn’t brought any weapons of their own. The whole point was that they appeared defenceless. If they’d needed them, Amanda had explained, then the job was already fucked beyond belief. No guns meant a commitment to not fucking up.
‘You OK?’ Amanda asked Danny, quietly, back turned to their audience.
‘Never fucking better once this guy learns some respect.’ Danny jabbed the gun at the guard.
‘I told you that might happen and I told you that you had to keep your cool. You promised me, you promised th
e boss.’
‘Fucking sucker punched me.’
The words spoke volumes. Danny’s ambitions for himself and his brother were a leash worth holding tight. The boy wanted to impress, to climb. But Henderson, the boss, the man who had taken Amanda in, wasn’t well, whispers of cancer. He was weakening and jackals like Danny could smell it.
‘Then you get back at him by stealing his boss’ money,’ she tried. ‘Anything else is just going to complicate things. So stop being a little boy and act like a professional.’ She turned to Camberley again. ‘The money, let’s see it.’
Camberley was sweating now. Amanda liked that. The man nodded, motioned to the Abra who had been working the arm breaker hex. Glaring daggers at Amanda, she received some short instructions from her employer. A stick of chalk appeared in her hand.
She strode to the nearest pillar, drew a circle and then, with a precise hand began to add symbols, first twelve o’clock, then nine, then two, the order as important as the exactness of the symbols themselves.
Amanda tried not to flinch at the sight of them but something must have shown on her face the way Camberley looked at her.
‘Fuck you looking at?’ burst Danny. The bodyguard opposite flinched, raised his hands higher. ‘Eyes on the ground. Eyes on the fucking ground.’
‘He gets the message,’ said Amanda. ‘How much longer?’
The Abra at the pillar wiped her brow.
‘She’s working as fast as she can,’ said Camberley. ‘But she must be precise.’
Silence stretched as another train passed overhead, its shadow flickering across the gravel. The only sound was the scratching of chalk on stone.
‘Bet you’re wishing you hadn’t hit me now,’ said Danny. ‘Bet you were feeling the big man when you did that.’
‘Easy,’ said Caleb. ‘We’re all keeping calm.’
‘I want him to apologise.’ Danny strode forward, angling the gun as though preparing to pop the man in the head.
The bodyguard backed away a step. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘You get off on that shit?’ Danny insisted. ‘Hitting a guy when you got a gun in his face? How you like it?’
The End of the Line Page 3
