Amanda gave her a sympathetic frown. ‘We’ll figure it out.’
‘Does this look like figuring it out? He’s beaten us already. I’m sorry, I tried to let you learn but you haven’t got the technique and I don’t have the time to teach you. There’s nothing we can do. I don’t want to die.’
Amanda shook with the effort of holding her, of standing beside her. All she wanted was to rest. She had no more energy to fight or struggle. Maybe it would be easier to just give up.
‘He’s going to come after me,’ Steph mumbled into her. ‘When we do the blessing he’ll try to stop it. I know it.’
‘We have to try,’ Amanda replied. ‘There are people depending on us. We’ll figure something out.’
She looked to Caleb. ‘Whatever it takes.’
Chapter 29
Caleb
The present – twenty hours to destination
Caleb watched his friend bent over the books before her, scowling at the words like they were another door in her path, another security protocol to navigate around.
He sat, wrapped in his sleeping bag, too much in pain now to do little but watch. The book he’d never finish was at his side, his reading glasses too sore against his nose. Every breath he took was like his chest was full of broken glass.
Been a long time since he’d taken a beating anywhere close to it. Made him feel small but he knew that feeling would pass if he let it.
Amanda was wrapped in her bag, books spilled out in front of her, the girl the same, the occasional comment made between them, loud enough so that thing could hear them.
There was no getting past the demon. No negotiating with it or conspiring against it.
But the woman never gave up. She was too proud, too confident, so caught up in her own legend that she wouldn’t face the notion that maybe she was beaten.
It had cost her so much already, the same thing that had made her notorious. The woman’s mind was a lockpick, it twisted and turned in directions Caleb never thought possible and it had got them places.
Give her enough time and she might solve this too.
And Barker had made a promise – that night after they had met AK and Amanda had launched her whisky glass into the little punk’s face.
He’d made a promise. Or perhaps he had merely voiced it to himself.
Twelve months earlier
A couple of beers had already given Caleb a nice buzz, detracting from the urge to throw Amanda across the room.
Not three hours ago, they’d been kicked out of the club, AK bleeding heavily, whisky glass on the floor. Jamison had told them to stay put, running would only have made AK chase and then there would be no room for Jamison to work. Amanda had ranted and raged the whole way home. Caleb had held his tongue from throwing a few points of his own.
Now he was in Amanda’s dining room. While she was upstairs talking to Simon, convincing him they had to stay put but be ready to leave, the kids were taking turns to arm wrestle him over the corner of the table.
It’s a good thing, being surrounded by family.
‘Come on, son,’ said Caleb, ‘almost got it.’
Darren’s expression was so like his mother’s it was comical – desperate to win but intent on looking like he had no emotional investment on the outcome. He redoubled his efforts, young muscles standing out up his arm but he might as well have been fighting a statue. Caleb’s arm didn’t move an inch.
The girls were beside themselves with laughter, throwing out cries of support.
‘Come on, son,’ Caleb said again, not trying to win, just keeping them in the starting position, matching his godson’s strength. ‘Come on. Show us your muscles.’
‘He’s trying his best,’ laughed Michaela. ‘Look, you can tell that’s the one he wanks with.’
Emily rolled her eyes and turned, pretending to walk away from her older sister’s vulgarity, one part amused, one part horrified.
Darren pretended not to hear, licking his lips and giving one last all or nothing effort.
‘Not found yourself a girl yet?’ Caleb asked him, sensing weakness. ‘Or boy? Must be easier, being gay, is it? Not like my day.’
Michaela shrugged.
A dramatic exhalation and Darren gave up. ‘I can’t do it.’ He sat back, shaking life back into his arm. ‘You’re too strong.’
‘He’s also three times your size,’ Emily pointed out.
‘And it’s girls,’ said Darren. ‘Sorry, Uncle Caleb, I’m not like that.’
‘Don’t have to be sorry,’ Caleb took another sip of beer, sitting back himself.
‘Doesn’t matter either way,’ said Michaela. ‘No one would want to tap that if he paid them.’
Darren launched himself from his chair and Michaela squealed and retreated.
Caleb laughed as the pair chased one another around the table, so full of youth and energy there was no room for feeling down.
‘They’ve been up there a long time,’ said Emily, taking Darren’s seat.
As soon as they’d arrived back, Amanda and Simon had gone upstairs to discuss what had happened. Caleb was good at keeping his friend calm sometimes, but for the big things you needed a husband to talk you down.
It was times like these that he missed Michael most. These days he was always the rock, never the leaner. All he had was the ache in his chest, just as potent after all these years. He didn’t think it would ever go away. That man was still his everything.
‘They’re just talking,’ he replied.
‘The meeting didn’t go well, did it.’
‘Wasn’t ever going to go well. Sometimes it’s just like that.’
Emily, always the thoughtful one, looked worried.
‘All be OK,’ said Caleb. ‘You’ll see.’ He reached over and pushed the girl’s glasses up her nose, making her smile.
‘Alright!’ Michaela threw herself in beside Emily, nudging her younger sister half off her chair. ‘My turn.’ She put up her arm, ready to wrestle.
In moments they were all laughing again. Caleb held the girl as easily as he’d held Darren until, shrieking and shouting, Emily piled in to help her sister. The pair of them slowly forced Caleb’s arm toward the table.
‘You see!’ Darren was saying. ‘You see!’
They all cheered when Caleb’s fist touched the wood. Michaela and Emily high-fiving and hip-checking while Caleb pretended to be all defeated.
‘And how about you?’ he asked Michaela. ‘No more trouble?’
‘Nah, we’re good,’ the girl replied with a singsong voice, no hint of abashment
‘Why? What happened?’ asked Emily. ‘What happened?’
‘Mind your own business,’ said Michaela, flicking her sister’s ear.
‘Ow!’
‘None of that,’ said Caleb. ‘Unless you want me to intervene.’
Michaela, a chip off the old block, had rented a flat off one of those online services that let you book other people’s gaffs. Checked in at midday, by early evening she’d had the building’s security fob cloned a dozen times and in the hands of a dozen waiting friends. Word had already gone out: epic party, no holds barred, twenty a head before entry. She’d tripled her investment no less than eight hours after taking the keys. Ten hours later and the flat was jumping, the neighbours complaining and the police had been called. All that, she could handle.
Until a few guys had arrived at two in the morning with drugs to sell, knives, a yen to kick in walls and basically kill everyone’s good time. When that happens, you call in your Uncle Caleb to sort it out and swear him to secrecy.
It seemed that protecting Colemans from the trouble they got themselves into was an inter-generational deal.
They stopped at the creak of the stairs.
Simon appeared first looking strained but putting a brave face on it. ‘Who’s hungry?’
As the kids passionately exclaimed how hungry they were, a general bustle kitchen-wards, Caleb stayed put.
Amanda looked calmer. B
rittle, but calmer.
‘I really fucked up,’ she said.
‘Could have gone better,’ said Caleb. ‘But not by much. No way we were going to agree to it.’
Amanda nodded. ‘Good.’
Of course he was invited to lunch, which inevitably became dinner as well. The kids carried on. Simon entertained, telling jokes, seeing everyone was happy. Even Amanda was managing a laugh or two at the end.
Michael was absent, always absent, but the pain was always bittersweet on nights like this. What Amanda had done might not have been forgivable but it was, perhaps, understandable and it cut her almost as deep as it did Caleb.
‘Thanks for watching her back today,’ said Simon when they had a moment alone. ‘No knowing what would have happened if you weren’t…’
‘She’d probably have killed them all.’
Simon smiled. ‘No doubt. But seriously, thank you. You’re always there for her. We don’t say it often enough but we appreciate that.’
‘That’s what you do for family.’
The kids continued to laugh and shout. Michaela was telling some story from her college. They really were Caleb’s family and underneath it all, he knew he’d die for each and every one of them.
That was a nice feeling.
Chapter 30
Amanda
The present – eighteen hours to destination
It was the hardest thing she’d ever done.
The wall nudged at Amanda’s left elbow, the curtain at her right, hemming her in. Every noise from the other end of the carriage made her breath hitch, adrenalin hot-wiring through her veins and soaking her clothes with sweat, despite the cold. She resisted the urge to peek around at the others, forced herself to take her time with her task, do it properly.
Outside, under the pervasive thrum of the train’s engine, she thought she could hear the ocean – some barren, icy shore wreathed in mist.
Couldn’t stay too long. Reeves would notice.
Steph had been thinking along the right lines; there was only one spot in the whole carriage with even a modicum of privacy. Amanda’s trousers were at her ankles, the tub of bleach open beneath her. The chemicals made her eyes water, grated at her throat. Holding the pose made her muscles burn.
But it gave Amanda the few minutes she needed, to steel her resolve, make a decision.
Her pack of cards were no longer the comfort in her hand they had once been. The weight was wrong with so many missing. Her fingers touched the softened corners, the familiar dimensions fitting in the grooves of her palm but the case had too much give, bending in her grip.
Was a shred of what she’d had worth clinging to? Or did it all need to go?
Reeves was saying something to Steph, a low conspiratorial whisper.
Committed now. Time to move.
‘Weeping, Amanda?’ called Reeves.
The cards were back in the pocket in a heartbeat. She was back into the room in another.
‘I’m fine,’ she lied, shuffling back to join the others.
She ached worse than ever.
Dull, fibrous pain radiated from her bones, up her arms and legs, curling her spine, knotting in her shoulders and neck. Her feet throbbed, feeling compressed as though she’d been on them all day. Her jaw was so clenched it made her teeth hum whenever she was aware enough to relax.
It didn’t matter whether she sat, stood or lay down. Whether she was walking or stationary. She’d stretched, she’d tried going limp, she’d tried kneading her muscles, working them like clay. Nothing worked, nothing gave even a shred of relief.
Her wrists burned and itched. When she peeled back her glove, peeked under the cuff of her coat, she found the skin bruised and raw, worn away to red, shiny flesh. They were as worn as Reeves’ manacled wrists were smooth and unblemished.
The air was heavy with expectation as she came back to join them. The knife was resting on Steph’s bag waiting to be blessed. Another battle with Reeves waiting to be had. Steph’s idea on how to defend themselves unheard.
This had better work, she told herself, sitting back down.
‘So it’s, like, the words don’t matter,’ she said to Steph.
Though he stopped them from talking about how to defend themselves, Reeves had allowed them to speak openly about the blessing.
He was planning something, they all saw it, he let them see it. Not only were they heading into a fresh skirmish with him but he was tearing their composure ragged by letting them be the ones to initiate it.
‘It’s the tones the words make,’ Amanda continued. ‘That’s where we went wrong last time.’ Her finger traced along a line of cramped text.
Steph shrugged under her blanket. She took another slow bite from her chocolate bar, the last one in the supplies.
‘No come on.’ Amanda tried not to groan as she shuffled beside the girl, bones creaking like they were made of rusted metal.
‘I will see that,’ said Reeves.
Amanda knew better than to argue. Biting down on another groan, she lifted himself back up and hobbled over to show the demon the book she had been about to proffer.
The thing’s eyes travelled across it. Without even having to be asked, Amanda turned the pages. This close and she could smell her son, the scent provoking unwanted memories and feelings.
The creature looked up, staring hard into her face. Was that pleasure in its eyes?
‘Continue.’
Amanda swallowed the urge to say thank you and took the book back to Steph.
The girl looked morosely at the page, pulling her blanket tighter around her. Damn but the skin around her mouth was blue, the rest a stony grey except for the dark blush around her eyes and nose and the angry red of her burn. Despite the layers of clothes and blankets, her teeth chattered. As cold as Reeves was warm.
Though Steph’s vision incantation on her had long since worn off, Amanda could swear she could almost see the heat being leeched from the poor girl, pouring into Reeves, his skin flushed and glowing.
‘Come on now,’ Amanda pushed her in the chest to keep her focussed on the book, slipping something into her breast pocket as she did so.
The reaction was immediate, the girl looked up into her face and she gave the slightest of nods. Steph’s lips set harder.
‘So it doesn’t matter what you say,’ Amanda continued ‘it’s the tone you say it in. Can you read music?’
‘No.’ Steph looked at the page before closing her eyes to sink deeper into her shivers.
Reeves eyes were cold and mocking.
‘Alright then. Let’s figure it out. So, I reckon I remember that this middle line is—’
‘It’s hopeless,’ she interrupted.
‘No. It isn’t. Come on. We can figure this.’
‘I can read music,’ said Caleb. The man was slumped against the far wall, his face a bruised mask, eyes swollen bulbs. His skin was a stormy sky of yellows and purples and blacks, red capillaries standing out like distant tongues of lightning.
He’d been quieter than normal of late, thoughtful. Amanda knew the man long enough to see when he was getting sentimental. He was thinking of Michael and when he talked to Amanda it was to reminisce, something Michael had done or Michaela had said. ‘We get through this she’s going to be OK,’ he kept saying.
‘Can you hum this?’ Amanda didn’t even have the strength to stand, sliding over on her knees. ‘Have a look.’
They all looked to Reeves, waiting for him to protest.
He said nothing.
Amanda was beginning to wonder if he was acting at random, forcing them to stop avenues of enquiry to bluff them into believing that they were on a path that threatened him. How many hours had they potentially wasted trying to read around a subject because Reeves had reacted to it and found nothing of value?
Caleb took the book. The tips of two of his fingers were stained black with frostbite. Amanda said nothing as the big man held the book at an angle so he could see through the fleshy slits,
angling his reading glasses. He hummed a few notes, walked Steph through it.
‘That’s my girl,’ said Caleb, staring blindly up at the ceiling. ‘She’s a natural.’
‘And if Ray Charles here says you’ve got it…’ Amanda patted Caleb on the shoulder. The big man gave a morose chuckle. The girl frowned, the reference falling flat. ‘God, I’m as old as I feel,’ said Amanda. She took a breath, the next words weighing heavy. ‘So, are we ready to do this?’
Steph ran her tongue along her teeth again, stretching the skin of her burned chin. A finger played at the corner of one of her stacks of pages.
‘We should go over it one more time. If we’ve missed—’
‘We’ve got this,’ said Amanda, injecting as much confidence in her voice as she could muster. ‘We’ve been researching for hours. If we don’t know it now, we never will.’
‘We’ve missed something,’ said Steph. ‘I know it. He’ll try and get me.’
‘How long will it take?’
‘A few minutes if I get it right.’
‘So we need a distraction.’
‘That’s my cue,’ said Caleb.
Amanda had expected it, already knew the paths Caleb’s mind had been travelling down. That didn’t stop it from making her shudder with the poison of what her best friend was about to suggest.
‘What are you going to do? Dance?’
‘That two-step shuffle I’m known for.’
Reeves jerked in his chains.
Caleb pushed himself to his feet, careful on his ribs. ‘Beating held him off last time. Probably work again.’
‘But you’ll be hurting yourself,’ said Steph. ‘You’ll get all the injuries.’
‘Yup,’ Caleb sniffed. ‘Sounds about right. Heard what you were saying, about it taking time and effort to get food out of you. We know he doesn’t like pain. Should be a good distraction.’
‘But…’ Steph looked to Amanda. ‘Are we really going to let him do this?’
‘It’s his decision. We haven’t a better idea and we’re running out of time.’
‘But he can barely stand. This could kill him.’
Caleb nodded. ‘Reckon you’re right. But I’ve been around a while. There’s a girl out there more deserving of a second chance. Up to her mother to stick around.’
The End of the Line Page 32
