‘We arrive,’ the shout came back. ‘Early.’
‘He was bluffing us,’ said Amanda, half to herself. ‘You were fucking bluffing again.’
‘You take the advantages you get,’ Reeves growled.
‘And hope for the best,’ Amanda replied. ‘It took a bit of time to realise but once we got to discussing it, we realised that under all the power, you were just a con-artist like me. I even told Skeebs that, when he started all this. You make it so your mark’s so twisted up they think the only options are the ones you’re giving them. Then you keep them off balance so they never have time to think.’
The demon’s face twitched. ‘There was no drug.’
‘Slow aren’t you.’ Amanda strode across the room, gathering the makeshift stretcher and pulling it in front of the demon. ‘We knew the connections were twoway streets and we knew if we could join our powers it might be enough. So we figured we needed to trick you into connecting us. Guess I am my father’s daughter in some ways. That power came in handy after all.’
‘I followed every conversation, checked every page. You could discuss nothing without me knowing.’
‘You didn’t check everything.’
The playing cards were at Steph’s feet, scattered from where she’d dropped them. Amanda picked one up, showed the face. The drawing was black and white, her leaning against the bar with a smile, Simon beaming back at her – the first time they’d met. It was scrawled over with tiny, neat writing. ‘Been slipping them to her with a bit of the old-fashioned stage magic – a few palm offs and pocket drops. You didn’t ask for them because you never saw the times we had to write them or read them. I hated letting these go but they got me what I wanted in the end. And maybe they’re just things. I’ve still got the photo in my wallet and maybe what I’ve got up here,’ she pointed to her temple, ‘is more important.’
‘Can we hurry this?’ asked Steph.
‘Time we went for a little walk,’ said Amanda, heading for the chains, the cards tumbling from her fingers. ‘It’s time we finished this.’
Chapter 33
Amanda
The present
‘I don’t know how long I can hold this,’ said Steph.
They’d set out across the scree, Steph leading the way, the string writhing in her hand like a living thing. Skeebs’ spare trousers were a fraction too long for her, giving her a shuffling gait.
Amanda, followed behind, dragging Reeves across the uneven ground on the impromptu sled. Stones and snow crunched underfoot. The wind pulled at their clothing.
The satellite phone was heavy in her pocket, bumping against her hip.
‘Sure you know the way?’ Amanda asked.
‘I can feel it.’
They walked until the train had disappeared over the horizon. A twenty-minute drive by quad turned into hours on foot. Amanda’s muscles burned. She stumbled now and again on a rock. She could only imagine what it was like for Reeves, foetal, shivering and helpless. The rocks sliding under the material, it must have felt like being run across a cheese grater.
Amanda couldn’t stop staring at her son’s bare skin, the tattoos shifting and swirling.
The effort of holding the connections open and Reeves at bay was draining. Even now Amanda could feel the connection between the three of them pulling at her, through her. Fatigue was stiffening her muscles again. A throb was growing behind her eyes.
‘She won’t do it,’ said Reeves. ‘Even between you, you won’t have the strength to hold me at bay and open the gate.’
‘We’ll see,’ Amanda replied.
‘The effort will kill her.’
Amanda watched the girl’s back, hunched against the wind. ‘We’ll see. She hasn’t the tattoo but if I have even a fraction of my father’s power, might be that’s enough.’
‘You’re still no different. You’d still sacrifice her to get your revenge. You manipulated her, talked of power and prestige, knowing she would agree to do the ritual again. You stoked her greed.’
‘You gave me no other choice.’
‘And what of Caleb? You wanted him dead to have me focus the connections on the pair of you, so your plan would work.’
‘I didn’t ask him to sacrifice himself.’
‘You made him want to. You brought up family again and again, used his love of your daughter against him.’
‘My girl needs me. She’s worth more than both of us.’
To call it a ring of stones was a stretch. Rocks maybe. Barely as high as Amanda’s knee. Perhaps they were bigger underground, drowned in soil and pebbles.
Amanda didn’t need to be told to set Reeves in the centre. Steph told her anyway. The pupil was missing from her left eye. She was sweating despite the cold, mouth set and grim. She was tiring.
Tremors were starting to shake Amanda, her fingers rebelling, little tics as nerves misfired. They had to finish this and soon.
There was a biting wind that plucked at their clothing, the sensation of moisture on their skin whenever it picked up but there was no rain. It was a strange, monochrome place, the only colour was what they’d brought with them.
Amanda pulled Reeves up onto his knees. ‘You need him lying down, kneeling?’
‘Doesn’t matter.’
Amanda stepped away, pulled the knife from her belt. Her heart was in her mouth. This was the last time she’d see Darren move again – a strange sort of sorrow despite everything she knew. The boy actually looked scared and Amanda had to fight the old urge to say something reassuring. Instead she said: ‘Ready when you are.’
‘This won’t work,’ said Reeves. ‘The effort will kill her. You’ll be next.’
Steph’s right pupil was gone in a blink, the patterns she wove changing in an instant, her hands working even faster than before.
Amanda’s hand tightened on the blade handle.
‘Can you really do this?’ said Reeves. ‘Plunge a knife into your own son’s chest.’ Stones ground as he swivelled around to face her, sticking out his chest.
‘You’re not my son. You’re his killer.’
‘You’re no better than your father. It all goes round in circles, I see you all make the same mistakes again and again and again, convincing yourself you’re not like everyone else. You started using the magic the moment I linked you to her, you’ve had your first taste of power, of real power, and now you’re going to kill me. What’s going to stop you from the rest? It’s already in your blood. Do you think he was born a bad man? There’s nothing stopping you from becoming the same.’
Underneath her jacket Amanda began to feel the fine hairs on her arm began to stand on end. ‘Looks like it’s time to go.’
‘What’s stopping you?’ Reeves demanded.
‘Nothing,’ Amanda admitted. ‘I’ll just have to try.’
Steph grunted. Her fingers were a blur, faster than human hands should be capable of, the blur of a propeller blade, everywhere at once. Though she couldn’t see them, Amanda reckoned the patterns she was making now were more complex than any she had ever made before.
The girl’s face was twisted in horror. She was barely hanging on.
‘Is it open?’ she asked, there was a ringing in her ears, growing, growing.
‘Almost…’ Steph’s mouth split wide as she screamed, high and animal and in pain.
‘Just keep going,’ said Amanda. ‘We need to finish this.’
‘She’s failing,’ Reeves crowed.
‘Steph, get this done,’ said Amanda. ‘Finish it.’
‘It’s open,’ Steph yelled, as if talking over high winds.
It was like the world grew bigger, like the sky had woken up, an eye bigger than anything focussing down on them. The taste of magic was everywhere, clogging every pore.
‘Bye son.’
Amanda didn’t give herself time to think. She put the knife to Reeves’ chest, wedged the point between the ribs and pushed. She drove the demon to the ground, pushing the blade deep as it would go into i
ts heart. Their eyes locked, Darren’s eyes just like his father’s. Amanda watched the life drain out of them, blood trickling from her son’s mouth. She’d be paying for this for the rest of her life, she knew. Maybe longer than that.
Her vision blurred with tears, blood welled up around the wound as she ground it deeper, the blood steaming in the cold.
She remembered wrestling the boy on the living room carpet, careful, so careful, not to hurt him. She’d taught the boy to ride a bike. Tried to set an example on how to live.
The connections broke.
Reeves was still, his eyes rolled up and away. He didn’t move when Amanda pulled away, breathless and hollow.
Amanda’s hands shook as she picked herself back up. If she fell, she thought she would shatter, like a hollow clay doll.
The words clogged in Amanda’s throat until she could force them out. ‘We’re done. Steph, it worked.’
Steph didn’t reply, her face twisted and panicked, eyes fixed on something Amanda couldn’t see.
But Steph wouldn’t stop, couldn’t stop. The gate was still open, the sky still yawned around them. Tears ran down the girl’s face, a mask of misery. Even with the string she’d lost control, if she’d had the tattoo…
Amanda made to intervene, to break the string. A flick of the knife would do it.
She stopped. Steph’s words returned to her, of sharing the techniques, the remains of the notes, of someone back in London eager to tutor her. ‘Change magic forever. Power too valuable to be ignored.’ More of it legalised, more of it on the streets, more to abuse it. Nothing that Amanda could do.
Except protect her daughter.
The girl was trapped in her own web of pain now, the power running through her entire world. She was barely hanging on, fighting not to be swept away in it.
Notes could get lost. Progress slowed. Young minds changed while on the way home.
The pink shimmering blur of twine turned red. The sight made Amanda wince.
The girl kept screaming, blood dripping out from the string, bright red on the stone and snow. Droplets flew every which way, spattering her pain-filled face. The sound of the fluttering twine had gained a horrifying organic quality.
A moment more, Amanda told herself. One moment more.
Then she moved. Two strides and the knife snicked, cutting the string neatly in half.
Steph fell. Something closed – some change in the air, the taste of magic fading.
Steph lay gasping, curled around her hands, breath tearing the air to shreds. Steam came off her like smoke.
It was done. It was over. Amanda turned in the direction of the train. The trail the dragged sleeping bag had made was a clear scar.
Long trek ahead. Hard enough on her own let alone with an injured girl.
Amanda crouched down at her side. ‘Let me see. Let me see…’
She convinced the girl to uncurl a little, shifted to let the light fall on her hands.
Reeves had been right. The power had been too much for her. Too much and too complex.
Amanda gently unwound the string from Steph’s hands, careful where it dug deep into the flesh of her palms, the cuts oozing bright red. She cast it aside, dripping into the stones.
The cold bit as she pulled her coat off, lay it across the shivering girl. Her belt came next and went around her right forearm. Steph’s belt did the same for the other.
She was no doctor, but maybe someone could save her fingers. Half of them anyway. Some of the ones that were still there, at least. The rest were shredded torn stumps.
But there was one more thing she had to do before getting the girl help.
The phone barely had time to ring before it was picked up.
‘Amanda.’ It was a relief to hear Jamison’s voice.
‘It’s done. Is she OK?’
‘She’s fine.’
It was like a weight being lifted from her chest. ‘Put him on.’
‘I’m glad but—’
‘It’s now or never. Put him on.’
She was trying not to cry now, keeping a lid on it, didn’t want AK to hear it in her voice.
‘You’ve done it?’ The man’s voice made her cringe.
‘It’s done. Let her go.’
She could hear his sigh of relief as a burst of static. ‘Good. Now get back here. I’ve been thinking. Maybe we—’
‘No. I want my daughter.’
‘Don’t for one minute think you have a choice. You think I’ve forgotten that glass in the face? You’re going to pay off every—’
Even though she was expecting it, the bellow of the gunshot in her ear still made her flinch.
There was a long pause, nothing to do but hold her breath.
‘Amanda?’ It was Jamison again.
‘He dead?’
Jamison swallowed and gasped like he’d just taken a long gulp of wine, trying not to throw up. ‘You were right. I should never have stood for this.’
‘There’s taking abuse and then there’s picking your moment. Believe me.’
‘I’ll see she’s safe until you get home. She’s OK, Amanda. I saw to that. She’ll be OK.’
‘Thank you. I…’
‘Do you want me to put her on?’
Wind rolled across the landscape, the dust moving a few feet east in a thousand year journey.
‘No. Tell her… Tell her we’ll speak when I get back. Right now, I…’
‘I’ll tell her. I’m glad you made it.’
Amanda hung up and her mind turned on getting home. She realised she hadn’t told him about Caleb.
The girl cried out in pain as Amanda pulled her wrists, forcing her to keep them elevated. ‘Come on, we’ve got to get you back.’
Gathering her up in his arms, she began to head back to the train, stumbling on the stones.
They left the body behind. She wanted to look at it one last time but didn’t dare to. She needed to remember her boy as he’d been. Like he was in her photograph.
Blood ran down the girl’s outstretched arms and daubed on her cheeks. Steph could let out little more than a whimper.
‘I need you to stay awake for me, OK? Just stay awake.’
She was shivering, despite the two coats.
Her eyelids fluttered open, her pupils had returned. ‘Amanda…?’
‘I know, I know,’ she pulled her in to a hug. ‘But it worked. He’s dead, he’s dead. We’re going home.’
‘I fucking hate magic…’ The girl screwed up her face, fighting the words through.
Amanda’s lips twitched in a smile, gave the girl’s arms a squeeze. ‘Yeah. Fuck magic.’
Epilogue
Amanda
The present
Numb.
What else could she be?
The train continued east. The drivers allowed the women to ride in the cabin with them, share their food. It was telling that AK had only provided enough to get them to the circle.
The two pairs left each other alone, despite the cramped conditions. It didn’t really matter, Amanda was somewhere unreachable anyway.
Steph shivered and sweated. Painkillers helped but never enough. Amanda stroked her hair and made the appropriate noises or at least her body did.
There was something akin to suspension in panic. It was like being in the eye of a hurricane, the world reduced to a tiny space a person could see both sides of, anxieties and problems circling but holding their distance. And as soon as it was over all that debris would start crashing to earth, flung out in every direction, the world would flood back in and only the person in the centre would still be spinning.
Until then? Numb.
She thought of Caleb, his face waiting for her whenever she closed her eyes or looked out to the horizon. Would the plan have worked if he had still been alive? The link diluted between the three of them? Would Reeves have been tricked so readily? Would she be able to forgive herself? Again, she’d taken from her best friend to get what she wanted and this time it had cost
him everything.
They stopped at the nearest city with an airport.
Steph, feverish hot and fighting infection, she left at the hospital. The girl’s rucksack, she filled with roubles and everything else she would need to get home when she was well enough to travel.
As soon as the girl was in a wheelchair Amanda had headed straight for the airport, ignoring the shouts in Russian behind her.
Numb.
Flights were awkward. Too many connections. Not that she gave a shit. Her mind was on nothing but her daughter now, her little girl like north to a compass needle.
She didn’t dare sleep. She never woke feeling any better.
She didn’t eat. Food held no interest.
Numb.
There would be funerals to arrange when she got home. There’d be a house to sell. There’d be questions from the police to answer. As one of the few involved still alive, they might try to pin it on her but she doubted it.
The Indians had gone silent. Funny how mass murder made the gangsters disappear. Maybe they’d come back, maybe they wouldn’t. They’d get nothing from her.
Jamison was waiting for her at the airport. No sign of Michaela. Travellers hustled and bustled around him. After a week of vans and trains, modern civilisation was a miracle.
‘Is she OK?’ The first real words she’d uttered since she’d stabbed her son in the chest.
‘She’s adjusting,’ the old man replied, words too small to describe what the girl was going through.
She was at a nearby hotel. Or at least an approximation of her was. Even so, Amanda’s heart skipped a beat on seeing her, the bland room falling away.
For a moment, there was a burst of sunlight across her daughter’s face as Amanda stepped into the room. Amanda thought Michaela was going to run into her arms but just as quickly as the sunlight had come it was gone again. The girl froze.
There was something new to her daughter now. Something behind her eyes, something found or lost. There was no longer that innocence to her, that youthful invulnerability. In its place was something else, a soft edge hardened, sharpened and more like her mother’s.
The End of the Line Page 35
