Blood On Borrowed Wings: A Dark Fantasy Thriller (28 page)

Years are but fading moments, like youth, lost to old reflection.

And days become but cavalcades of grief and recollection.
  

On Aging: The Big Here and Small Now (Collected Poems)

R. Halifax

Vedett smiled at the two security guards leading him through the copious main hall and into the inner chambers of Rose’s tenure. They did not smile back. Despite having been invited to this meeting, unofficially of course, Vedett still felt less of a guest and more of a detainee. The lateness of the hour added to the inconvenience and anonymity.

‘Here,’ said the first guard, pointing at a low-rise chair in a well-lit corner of the room.

Vedett took a seat and looked around at the dark wooden furniture and ornate antiquities that jostled for positions of importance in the reception room. A painting depicting the ascension of an unnamed god to his throne in the distant burgeoning clouds, dominated the wall above the fireplace. Rugs woven from materials both rare and hardy, added plushness underfoot and softened the light and sound of the room to a hush. A pair of Old Earth bone-based lamps stood proud on the ends of two empty, low bookcases. Despite the flamboyant opulence of the furnishings, the absence of books added a severe austerity that no piece of furniture, however magnificent, could circumvent.

It was a small mirror that dominated Vedett’s attention, though. Its thick aureate frame surrounded florid glass that reflected an image of him seemingly suspended in rosewater, or blood hanging on the mists of time.

‘It’s called a Death Mirror,’ said Leonora, who had entered the room silently. Vedett had not been aware of her until she had spoken. He had no idea of which door or discrete passageway she had emerged from, and did not care.

‘Fascinating,’ said Vedett.

Leonora gave the two guards a nod for them to leave and they looked at each other, slightly perturbed about exiting, leaving their current guest at large. A further penetrating glower from Leonora left them in no doubt, though, and they hurried from the room exchanging no more glances and closing the door behind them.

‘Fascinating,’ Vedett said again as he dabbed a manicured finger at the corner of his mouth.

‘It is meant to show you a vision of yourself and how you will die if you stare into it long enough.’

‘The clarity and calibre of the glass is unparalleled. It really is intense and beautiful, like death itself I suppose.’

‘That can depend on a number of things, can it not?’ said Leonora, who was not glad when Vedett finally averted his gaze from the mirror and back to her.

‘Anyway. Governor Rose will see you now,’ she said.

Vedett ignored her. ‘Ever looked into it Leonora? Tell me, what did you see?’

She tried not to shudder at the voice that had asked the question.

‘I saw a reflection of the room behind me, and me. Now shall we?’ She pointed towards the heavyset door at the opposite end of the room.

‘Beautiful and fascinating,’ he said.

And as Leonora led Vedett into the Governor’s inner chamber, no two words were further from her mind.

Often the huge gulf between winning and losing can be found in the very small distance between our ears.

The Psychology of Ologies

Sindra Badhart

As Cooper went for his baton I felt a paradigm shift in my train of thought and demeanour.

Business.

My left arm snaked out and with a backhand swipe I cracked him a sharp blow high on his cheek with my belt. He yelped almost comically and reeled backwards in surprise, tumbling over a low medical trolley and sending a multitude of cardboard sick bowls and wooden splints to the floor.

Riley swung a left hook. I leaned away to my left in the chair, following the arc of the belt, and his fist glanced my right cheek. I tumbled out of the chair, upending it and landing on my side, near Cooper’s feet. Riley lost his balance, not connecting properly with his big swinging punch, and struggled to keep his feet. As I tried to stand he kicked out at the chair and it hit me forcefully in the solar plexus. I expelled air and went down again, tangled in the chair’s legs.

Cooper swung his baton into the side of my right knee. A shockwave of hurt exploded out and up my leg and I curled up instinctively.

Then everyone stopped, like a ball at the top of its parabola. For a split second, all motion ceased. Riley looked confused and hurt, like I had betrayed him. I suppose in some way I had. He had presented me with my liberty and patched me up on my way and I had not graciously accepted those gifts; far from it.

He came at me again, his handcuffs in one hand, his baton now in the other. I flailed at his legs as he advanced. He slipped in my blood and toppled down on top of me. I leaned up and into him as he fell and he caught the jutting angle of his jaw on the top of my head. Gravity, motion and my densely thick skull conspired to knock him out. His weight went dead instantly and he forced me back to the floor, partly beneath him and partly entangled in the chair. My head hurt. I felt another wave of nausea rising.

Cooper looked skittish and wired, angled a wild blow from his baton that just missed my ear and careened off the floor with a dull but heavy thud. It had been close and the narrow miss rang out in my ears. He aimed a second blow and I arched my back and shoved sideways, this time the baton connected just behind Riley’s right ear and his forehead butted down onto the floor with a smack.

Riley did not even groan. Cooper, repulsed by his own actions, recoiled.

As I tried to roll out from under Riley, Cooper came at me again and I aimed a huge left uppercut into his testicles. He stopped in his tracks and fell into a foetal ball, shrieking in a pitch too high or sustained for any normal male register.

I stood, ignoring my screaming knee, dropped my belt, found my swipe card, Riley’s keys and Cooper’s discarded baton. I yanked the internal telephone’s wire free from its moorings and Cooper stuttered a low-pitched but contained groan. I left the medical room quickly, at least they were captive in the best place they could be, present conditions considered.

I tried the card from my chest in the medical door and the lock engaged, securing Cooper inside.

Bleecker’s card had worked. Now I just had to hope that the address was right for what I needed.

Stiff-legged, I limped further into the station, leaving the bullpen and lockers and cells behind. My knee hurt but I was still mobile. I checked but could see no other Mudheads. A telephone rang unanswered somewhere near.

I stopped at a large mesh storage cage under an embossed sign that read ‘Evidence.’ I knew standard Mudhead’s keys would not fit this reader. Evidence was always kept under separate lock and key and was usually booked out through an elaborate internal system to avoid misappropriation of items. I slid Bleecker’s key card into the slot, a light blinked green and I heard the thick deadbolts of the storage room click then disengage. I subdued a smile.

The old boy had come through.

 
I swung the heavy security door open and made my way inside.

Stay low, keep moving.

Urgency hurried my steps and focused my gaze. I scanned hastily, desperate to get out before the alarm was raised, to get to Doc. I coursed up and down the thin aisles of miscellaneous items as fast as my knee would allow. Things were stacked high and deep, various paraphernalia spilled out of overstuffed trays, collecting dust. I found the newer exhibits to the rear. They had to be here. Had to.

Then there, on a shelf near the floor, next to a box of spent crossbow bolts and a uniform bedecked with large evidence paper tags, I found them.

Suspended in a cold plasmic tank calcifying in the dark.

How quickly something can disappear

The moment we most need it there.

Lost Property

P. Sterling

By the time Coyle had got to Theron’s cell he was convinced that Riley would have intervened somehow to spoil his fun. It wouldn’t be the first time officer Do Right had gotten in his way. He had been halfway through eating his midnight protein quota before he had pieced together the way he had been manipulated out of the bullpen to the dining room. On realising, he had rushed straight back to the holding cells, still chewing. He opened the door to Cell 3.

‘Gone,’ he said to the empty cell.

There was no sign of struggle, so he had to assume Theron was elsewhere in the station or bullpen, being questioned by Riley perhaps. He pictured Riley smiling. Riley citing the rulebook. Riley steaming in to take all the plaudits and glory, the self-righteous, self-appointed King of the Station cunt.

He turned and stomped his way down the corridor back toward the bullpen when he heard a banging on a door. At first he thought it had come from the cells. It was not uncommon for guests of this particular hotel, to bang, scream or shout abuse at any hour, but the sound was coming from further up the corridor.

He stopped outside the medical room and listened.

‘Someone there?’ came a small voice from inside. It sounded like there was more than a door between them, it sounded miles away.

‘Cooper?’

‘Who is it?’

‘It's me, Coyle. What’s going on? Who’s that?’

‘Cooper. Riley’s down. Out cold. But still breathing. Theron’s gone.’

‘What do you mean,
gone
?’

‘We were discharging him and he just flipped. Keys are gone and Riley’s knocked out, pretty bad. Get help. He isn’t breathing too well.’

‘Did he say where he was going?’

‘What?’

‘Theron. Did he mention where he was fucking going?’

‘No, I…’

‘Next time, leave the proper policing to the big boys, and keep your nose out of my fucking business.’ Coyle turned to head for the bullpen then stopped. Listened. He heard noises coming from deeper within the station. Cooper said something else about help and testicles. He ignored it. He started to walk quietly and slowly towards the opposite end of the corridor.

By the time he recognised the mechanical clank and whir of the shutters going up at the vehicle pound on the lower level, he was running.

Whoever said time is a healer, lied. It heals nothing. It takes a cast iron wrecking ball, swings it and heals you to smithereens.

After the light has gone

J. T. Wrasse

I found the taxi I had used to escape Pan’s near the pound entrance, it must have been one of the last vehicles brought in. The rightful owner had not made it back to collect it yet. I could have taken any one of the impounded cars, but I knew this worked, knew how it handled and that it would allow me to blend back into the Lowlands throng seamlessly. The keys were in the ignition, security protocol not a concern beyond the thick reinforced walls and fences of the Station and surrounding grounds. I had a feeling their protocol would be changing soon.

I climbed into the driver’s seat and gunned the engine, felt my teeth rattle as it grumbled into life. My knee complained on every press of the accelerator. I pushed the stick into first and rolled up to the electric barriers and empty security booth. I wound the window down, swiped my card and smiled as once again, Bleecker’s key turned the light green.

I screeched out of the pound, feeling good to be on the move. I had not heard an alarm sounding, but decided to take the long way to Doc just as a precaution as I could not be sure who was scoping the Mudhead Station or my whereabouts. I needed to get somewhere warm, get a decent meal and some rest, but more than that, I had to be certain that Doc’s safety and our hideaway were not compromised. My security protocol was always rigorous and stringent, and never changed, no matter how much I wanted the day to end.

I hung my arm out of the window and welcomed the breeze on my face as I moved off the side street and out onto the main road, traffic was sparse. In the wing mirror I noticed a cream, unmarked car emerge from the pound and do the same thing.

I sighed, put both hands on the wheel, changed lanes and accelerated.

The cream car kept pace.

Looked like the day was not letting go of me just yet.

Delegate everything you possibly can in life, apart from the receipt of praise for getting the job done.

Climbing the Rungless Ladder

D. Lench

‘Please, take a seat.’ Rose gestured to an empty chair on the opposite side of the table. Vedett walked around the table, placed his hands on the back of the chair and remained standing.

‘Still can’t bring yourself to sit next to me, Governor?’

‘Frankly, Mr Vedett, I find all of our dealings distasteful, but necessary.’

‘Like pulling out a bad tooth,’ said Leonora.

‘Or taking out the trash,’ added Vedett, still smiling.

Silence.

‘Speaking of trash, how are your men progressing?’ Leonora asked.

‘Leo, you know as well as I do, that they are not men but Blackwings. They are all ego and ineptitude, but outside of their quasi-organised military world, they are mine. They do as I say.’

‘For the most part,’ added Rose, remembering the transgression with the Newton’s eye.

‘For their own sake,’ said Vedett.

Rose looked unimpressed.

‘The whore is gone, Drake is still where we want him and Crow and Makeover are sitting pretty, waiting for instructions.’

‘Then everything is in order,’ said Rose, ‘why did you need to call this meeting? And so late?’

‘Three reasons, Governor; first, because we are at the point of no return. At the moment we are down a Slayer, a whore, a doorman, a few scumbags and hired hands at those holding cells and a taxi driver. The only thing that links them all is Drake, he is easy to tie to them. He has made a very public, aggressive display at the Angelbrawl Arena, and we can pin him with the murders of a very wonky-toothed doorman and Pan, the prostitute. He’s booby-trapped a bolt into a Mudhead’s leg, even the unwitting taxi driver was wearing some of his clothes when they found him all over that underpass and the recovered vehicle has Drake’s prints on it: it all links to Drake. And that’s before his very public meltdown yesterday with our good lady Leo here and his egotistical rant at his brother’s funeral. He is exactly where you want him, because of me.’ Vedett looked at Leonora and licked his lips suggestively.

Leonora did not allow a squirm at his undertones.

‘And now he is in the Mudhead holding cells?’ Rose asked Leonora.

‘Possibly, though for how much longer I cannot be sure, I sent the release order down to them a couple of hours ago. Realistically, they should be processing him now.’

‘We need him at large again, Mr Vedett, this incident and arrest have been unfortunate but not cataclysmic.’

‘Governor, I would suggest it did not really help your cause that he aligned himself with you before throwing that brick, or whatever it was, through Horizon’s window, now did it?’

‘Didn’t hurt much either, though,’ said Leonora.

‘It probably would have been less inflammatory if you had not driven him there yourself or shoved your tongue down his throat on arrival.’

Vedett saw a flicker of anger flash in Leonora’s eyes and felt gratified.

‘Mr Vedett, as I am sure you have gleaned from the media, their coverage depict him as a rogue psychopath, unhinged and discordant.’

‘A man after your own heart,’ said Leonora to Vedett.

Vedett grinned.

Leonora continued, ‘The inequities of his actions yesterday will only add to that image, not detract, so I see no reason to veer from our plan or stop short at this juncture.’

Rose sat forward to add her own weight to Leonora’s argument, her stately bearing in evidence, the soft lighting unable to mellow the edges of determination and slight furrows of age and deterioration. She had aged much in office, the years and stresses eroding her features and vitality. The rosy curves and blushes of her youth so deeply entrenched in the valleys and creases of her wrinkles that they would never climb out again.

‘In my opinion, Mr Vedett, I think we passed the point of no return when we harpooned his brother,’ Rose said.

‘We?’ Vedett laughed then took a seat.

‘Vedett, it is late and so far we have established that you called this meeting to bore us rigid with exposition we already know.’

‘Second,’ he said, as if he was still reading, uninterrupted from some internalised list, ‘there has been a development at the Mudhead station I thought you should be aware of.’

Rose and Leonora exchanged a glance then looked back at Vedett expectantly.

‘Care to elaborate?’ said Leonora.

Leonora was clearly not a late night person.

‘Coyle,’ said Vedett.

‘What? Is that a name, item or request?’ asked Leonora.

‘It’s the name of the officer who took him in. I noticed it on the early release request form I authorised. What of him?’

‘Very good, you still read the small print, Governor, I’m impressed,’ said Vedett.

‘I
only
read the small print, Mr Vedett. Now please continue, there is only so much patronising I can stomach at this hour.’

‘He’s mine,’ said Vedett.

‘When is the happy day?’ asked Leonora.

Vedett did not mind any reference to his sexuality or sexual practices. He saw himself as asexual, taking no interest in the functional act of copulation. Rather he saw himself as a collector. He liked things of rugged beauty, physical traits juxtaposed to the masculine nature of man. Women were predictable, with their open blabbing mouths and acquiescing cunts. They bored him.

He loathed being belittled though, especially by a woman.

He forced a grin around his gritted teeth and added her to his list.

‘I could make an exception for you, Leo.’

‘Sorry?’

‘No mind,’ he said, licking his lips again. ‘Anyway, I’ve got inroads to him.’

Leonora looked at Governor Rose, with a minuscule ‘I told you so’ glance, no doubt from a previous discussion about his sexual persuasion.

Vedett did not mind.

‘Let me just say, Leo, that neither you nor I could, ah, satisfy this man’s particular needs.’

‘This is hardly pertinent to this discussion, Mr Vedett.’

‘Yes it is, Governor, he will do anything I need him to. I have asked him to tail Drake on his release and to keep me posted, thereby negating any further risk of the inept ego twins fucking anything else up. Said he would rough him up to slow him down too.’

‘I do not care what your methods are. Or his. When I delegate I delegate. I am not interested in your sordid machinations or petty favours. Just get the job done. I want Drake at that Lowlands Outpost in three weeks’ time. We are launching something big and he needs to be there, but he needs to make his own way. Leave a trail of lunacy and expendable bodies. That is it. That is all. No more deviations or collateral damage. No more infractions. Am I clear?’

‘Limpid,’ said Vedett.

His chair scraped noisily on the high polished floor as he abruptly stood to leave. ‘I will be on my way Governor. I’ve got a small zepellin waiting outside to ferry me back, and time costs credits.’

‘Of course,’ said Governor Rose, who nodded at Leonora.

Leonora left the room to prepare the escort.

‘Mr Vedett, before you go, may I remind you that you have not yet shared your third reason for this meeting.’

‘Oh yes, of course, the devil is in the detail.’ He walked around the table to where Rose was sitting.

‘May I?’

Rose said nothing.

He sat in the chair Leonora had vacated and leaned in close.

‘Hmmm, still warm.’ His eyes flashed with mischief.

Rose fidgeted, uncomfortable in her chair.

‘The third is a threat, ma’am.’ He leaned in closer. ‘And threats and promises are always best whispered. Close and personal.’

‘Mr Vedett, I do not respond well to …’

‘I don’t give a swamp rat’s fuck how you respond, here are the facts: if I don’t get paid or something befalls me before or soon after this mess, I have friends, friends from the Deluvian Plains who make the inept twins look like two fairies dicking around at the end of your manor garden. They will certainly make your next term, shall we say, untenable.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You,’

 
he leaned in closer, his mouth almost touching the soft folds of her ears,

‘heard.’

Rose brought her shoulder up, cringing at the whisper.

‘They’ll ride in here like a Nimbus City bound sandstorm and destroy everything you have ever aspired to build or lied to achieve. And it will be cataclysmic. You have my word.’

‘I do not respond well to threats, Mr Vedett.’ But this time her voice slightly faltered, quieter as it seeped out of her mouth.

‘In my vast experience Governor,’ he spat her title out, like it was a coarse bone stuck in his throat, ‘nobody does, that’s kind of the fucking point.’

Governor Rose’s brow collapsed into consternation as she glared at Vedett.

Vedett saw the worry behind it and stood to leave, happy.

‘That,
 
Governor, was in the fucking large print when you hired me. Have a pleasant evening.’