Bound (22 page)

‘That much is certain.’

His face became serious. ‘Now let me do the talking. These creatures are dangerous.’

‘Is there really something living here?’

‘There better be!’

Hood led them deeper into the cave. The light from outside didn’t reach far and he pulled a torch from his coat pocket. The powerful beam cut through the gloom, glistening wetly from slick rock all around. The way wound into the mountain, the floor rising at first then angling rapidly down. The passageway narrowed disconcertingly for several yards, making them duck as they walked, then opened into a large chamber.

Hood stopped, playing the torch beam around the cavern. Strange shapes cast shadows against each other, indiscernible even in the artificial light. Hood took a deep breath. ‘I seek the Sisters,’ he called out in a strong voice. ‘I know the price and come willing to pay.’

Nothing happened. Sparks drew breath to speak and Hood shot one hand up, silencing her before the first word passed her lips. A distant sound, like a quiet moan, drifted up. It seemed to come from very far away. Sparks wondered how deep the cave system went. The moan sounded again, this time like more than one voice, curling around rocks as the voices twisted around each other. They carried a soft, cold breeze with them.

‘Knows …’

‘… the …’

‘… price?’

The sudden speech made Sparks jump. She cringed close to Hood and felt his trembling as she clung to him. Was he cold or scared? Or both? The voices seemed to come from all around them at once.

‘I do,’ Hood said. ‘I know the cost.’

‘Knows …’

‘… the …’

‘… cost!’

The voices were sibilant, laughter bubbling along with the strong Scottish-accented words.

A low, blue-tinged light swelled up through the caves. Movement caught her eye and Sparks stiffened at the sight of three figures crawling over the rocks towards them. They moved like lizards on all fours, elbows and knees sharply out to each side, heads low, dark hair hanging lank and wet. Ancient women, wasted and rotten, wrinkled, grey skin stretched across thin bones. Their eyes glowed a deep yellow in the pale light. Their faces were too long, with sharp jaws open and black tongues flickering out, tasting the air across the gap between them. They stopped a few yards away, shifting slightly on their hands and feet, the way a praying mantis stalks its prey. Sparks felt Hood still trembling, even through her own shakes. She swallowed hard.

‘So,’ said one.

‘What is it,’ the next said.

‘That you want from us?’ said the third.

‘I want you to find and kill a couple who’ve cost me dearly,’ Hood said. ‘And bring back to me the magical items they carry.’

All three laughed heartily.

‘What ridiculous …’

‘… irrelevant trivialities …’

‘… are these?’

Hood clasped his hands together. ‘Forgive me, I am just a man with very human desires. I’ll pay your price.’

‘You will …’

‘… pay our price …’

‘… or die.’

‘Yes, yes. I have influence. I have what you need.’

‘The price …’

‘… for this task …’

‘… is nine.’

‘You have to be fucking kidding me!’ Hood said, aghast.

The one in the centre hissed, rage twisting her hideous features. She opened her mouth unnaturally wide, hundreds of tiny, sharp, backward-facing teeth arching out.

‘We …’

‘… don’t …’

‘… joke.’

Hood gathered himself. ‘I thought it was three. One each.’

‘Three
each
.’

‘That’s the price.’

‘Or we take you two.’

Hood rubbed his hands together, staring at them. ‘All right. I’d planned for three, but …’

‘Do you really …’

‘… have influence …’

‘… or not?’

The three of them shifted as if in a breeze.

‘Nine then,’ Hood said. His eyes were haunted, his voice thin.

The creatures laughed, a guttural bubbling.

‘Well, well.’

‘If you fail …’

‘… you will regret it for eternity.’

‘I’ll have to arrange it, but I can pay. Will you help?’

‘Yes.’

‘We’ll come …’

‘… to you.’

‘Okay. I’ll be at the Stag and Otter outside Achlyness. Can you get there?’

‘We’ll be there …’

‘… at midnight …’

‘… tonight.’

Hood backed away, pushing Sparks back with him. ‘Tonight? Right. Midnight tonight it is. See you then.’

‘Have nine …’

‘… or we take …’

‘… you two.’

‘Yes, yes. No problem. We’ll be ready for you.’

‘Leave …’

‘… a window …’

‘… open.’

The strange, pale incandescence faded away and the Sisters disappeared in the shadows. Hood turned, walking quickly, following his torchbeam.

‘What the hell just happened?’ Sparks asked.

‘I made a deal,’ he said quietly.

‘Yes,’ she ventured. ‘Nine what?’

Hood shook himself. ‘But it’s worth it. I must have whatever that boy has.’

‘I can understand your desire, Mr Hood. But we don’t even know what it is the boy has.’

Hood sped up, clearly desperate to be out of the caves. ‘There is enormous power in this world,’ he said. ‘Magic that normal people couldn’t even comprehend is scattered all over the place. But it’s not the ultimate, Ms Sparks.’

‘No.’ She had heard this diatribe before.

‘Nothing is greater than fantastic wealth. Magic is power among the few, but enormous wealth is power over everyone. And nothing is more valuable than magic. Therein lies my trade.’

‘I get that. But what did you just agree to? Nine what?’

‘Think about it, Sparks. Imagine how much that boy’s items could be worth! I was interested in them before, but then he was able to defeat the Subcontractor.’

‘He has a Kin woman with him. The Kin are strong.’

Hood barked a laugh. ‘The Subcontractor ate Kin for breakfast. Literally, I expect. There’s no way one Kin bitch would have been able to beat him. And definitely not a human whelp. So the deciding factor must have been whatever it is that boy’s carrying. That’s worth any investment.’

Sparks shrugged. ‘I suppose. You know best, after all.’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘You think those … things will succeed where the Subcontractor failed?’

‘I bloody hope so. I’m a bit out of ideas if they don’t.’

‘What are they?’

Hood turned slightly as he walked. ‘Not a clue, Ms Sparks. I just know they are unbelievably powerful and utterly ruthless.’

They emerged into the howling day again, the wind and rain a blessed relief from the damp confines of the cave. Sparks looked back into the darkness that had seemed so inviting not long ago. ‘So what on earth would they want, Mr Hood? What kind of payment could they care about?’

Hood stomped on, pointing back down the valley. Curly and Higgs hopped up and led the way.

‘Mr Hood, nine what?’

Hood looked back over his shoulder. ‘Souls, Ms Sparks. Nine innocent lives.’

Sparks gaped at him. ‘Nine lives? Innocent lives? What does that mean?’

Hood clapped Curly on the shoulder as they walked. ‘We’re going to need six more,’ he shouted over the wind.

Curly glanced back, surprise evident on his face. ‘Six more?’

‘Yes. By midnight.’

Curly stopped, turning to face him. ‘Midnight?’

Hood pushed him, forcing the stunned man back towards the car. ‘Yes, Curly. Six more. By midnight. Make it happen.’

Alex arrived at Halifax airport tired and demoralised. What could he do now to discover this last piece of the Darak? And if he found it, what then? Would he really have the power to do anything about the book? Silhouette dragged him to a counter and enquired about a flight to Rome. It didn’t take long for her to ask him for money again.

He pulled out his credit card. ‘This’ll take me close to my limit,’ he told her as the clerk processed the payment.

‘We’ll be fine, Alex.’

‘My bank account is empty, my credit card is full. I have money in investments, but there’s no way to get to that any time soon. We have very little finance, Sil. We won’t be fine.’

Silhouette took their tickets and led Alex towards the check-in desks. ‘We’ll get money. We may have to steal it, or charm it from people, or whatever. But we’ll get some. Money is the one mundane commodity even folk like us have to worry about sometimes, but don’t be so … so human!’

‘What do you mean?’

They stood in line to check in. ‘You ever see me get up early and go to work, Alex?’

‘What?’

‘I don’t earn an honest buck, but I get money when I need it.’

‘How?’

She frowned. ‘You really haven’t thought about this? You think I’m a monster as it is.’

Alex was flustered. ‘Well, I don’t think you’re a, you know, you’re a …’

‘You do. You think I’m a monster and I
am
a monster.’ She lowered her voice, whispering in his ear. ‘I eat people. Quite often, when I do that, I take their money. Sometimes I enchant them into loving me and giving me all kinds of gifts while I play with them. And
then
I eat them. And then take their money. I break into places and steal things that I sell on the black market. I’m like Catwoman.’ She leaned back, looking earnestly into his eyes.

Alex was unsure what to say. She was being completely honest with him and he had to admit he had been an idiot to think any differently. ‘I suppose I’d never thought about it.’

‘In this world, Alex, life feeds on life. It happens throughout the natural world. When people start to usurp that order, the hunt has to adapt.’

The only person helping him was a monster and a thief. He was loath to admit it, even in the privacy of his own thoughts, but he felt as though he were falling in love, even while he struggled to trust her. Was it some kind of purgatory to love a monster? Would he become one too? What did it really mean anyway, to be a monster?

The queue shuffled forward. Silhouette’s eyes were sad, watching him. ‘I want to be with you, Alex. I want to help you. But you
have
to accept what I am.’

‘I know. It’s a lot to process.’

‘I’m closer to humanity than most of my kind. There aren’t many like me these days, first-generation Kin. I really do try to tread lightly. I try to feed off bad people whenever I can. I steal from the corrupt and the greedy. I’d be lying if I said I’d never taken an innocent life, Alex, but I try.’

He kissed her. ‘I want to understand. But you have to realise how hard this is for me.’

‘I know. Your whole life has changed. But I’m into you, Alex. I want to help you and I want to stick around with you. But you have to want me too.’

‘Oh, I want you more than you can possibly imagine.’

‘You’re becoming something incredible. You know you’re already something more than human, right?’

Alex raised an eyebrow. The energies of the stone vibrated through him, constant now as he tried to contain it outside himself while owning it on the inside. But why had she said that? ‘More than human?’ he said quietly.

Silhouette gestured with her chin. ‘Are you the same as this lot any more?’

People milled and queued all around, their shades dull. Their lives seemed empty, boring, after the things he had seen and done. But he envied them. ‘These people are lucky. It would be awesome to be as ignorant as them.’

‘Maybe. But that’s beside the point. You’re not like them any more, Alex Caine. You’re something more. And becoming greater all the time. You already have more power at your disposal than any Clan Leader I’ve ever met. You’ve defeated Kin in combat and then some. Whatever happens, you’ll never be like
them
again. And, in their eyes, you’ll be some kind of monster too.’

Her words stung, but rang true. He had taken his first steps into a world none of them could imagine and there was no going back. At what point would that lead him to prey on them in ways similar to Silhouette? He wanted to rail against the possibility, deny that he could ever use people the way Silhouette suggested, but he was nothing if not a realist. She had a point. What degree of monster was she, and what kind of monster would he become?

‘The Subcontractor thing had us beaten,’ he said miserably. ‘I’m still too human to have defeated that.’

‘Get over it, Alex. You survived, even if he beat you. And you learned, grew.’

‘I suppose.’

‘I’ll show you what I can of how I live,’ she said, resting her head on his shoulder. ‘I’ll help you in every way. But you must accept me and my ways.’

He nodded, kissed the top of her head. ‘Everything’s changing.’

‘It’s already changed. You just have to keep up.’

It took a long time to get back to something resembling civilisation and little was said on the way. There was tension in the Land Rover, Hood’s nerves, Curly’s trepidation. They eventually reached a bigger road and before long pulled off into the gravelled car park of an inn. A large sign on a black frame proclaimed
Stag & Otter, Bar and B&B
. The building stood stark against the desolate landscape, black tudor beams crossing dirty white walls, slate tiles across the roof, rough with age and weather. Two more Land Rovers stood by the front doors, dark oak wood under a porch like a lychgate. Warm orange light from the windows made a welcome sight against the miserable, grey day.

‘We staying here?’ Sparks asked hopefully.

Hood nodded. ‘We are. Tomorrow we should have everything organised and we can go home and wait.’

Inside the pub was warm, low ceiling beams leading over a flagstone floor to a dark, shiny wooden bar. A huge fire roared in a central hearth. Sparks hurried up to it, casting her coat off onto the back of a chair as she went. She stood before it, knees pressed together, rubbing her hands as she tried to suck the heat in. She saw a number of other men, dressed like soldiers, lounging around the room.

Curly strode in. ‘Right, you lot, there’s work to do. Cavey still upstairs on guard duty?’

One of the men sat up straighter. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good. Leave him there. The rest of you come with Higgs and me.’ The men stood and gathered coats, heading outside without question. Curly turned to Hood. ‘I hope we can find what you need,’ he said, the implied question regarding the cost of failure.

Hood’s face was serious. ‘You better had. Nothing I’ve ever asked you to do has been more important.’

Curly stared for several seconds. Eventually he said, ‘When I mentioned my conscience could be bought …’

Hood held up one hand. ‘I know. Three times the expected number, three times the pay?’

‘Okay.’ He turned and left.

Sparks and Hood were alone in the bar. ‘No one else here?’ Sparks asked.

‘There’s one lad upstairs, guarding the three we already have.’

‘That’s all?’

‘That’s all. I own this place. I own many places. I had the guests turfed out and compensated. It’s hardly busy at this time of year anyway.’

Carpet-covered stairs led up from one corner. ‘Three what?’

‘I think you probably know.’

‘I hope I’m wrong.’

‘I doubt it.’ Hood watched her with narrowed eyes, judging her reaction.

‘What’s innocent these days, Mr Hood?’

He stared.

‘It’s children, isn’t it?’

Hood went behind the bar, took a whisky bottle and two glasses from a shelf. ‘Have a drink.’

‘I think I need one.’

Hours passed. The day sank into darkness by late afternoon and Hood sank into a pensive mood. Sparks self-medicated with alcohol, trying to numb her thoughts without becoming thoroughly drunk. He had never gone this far before, at least not to her knowledge. He’d already secured three children. Now he’d sent for six more as casually as ordering takeaway. Certainly Hood had killed before. She had too, on his orders. Life was cheap and those with power controlled their destinies. Was this really any different? Her own childhood, passed from one abusive bastard to another, had hardly been idyllic. Perhaps death before adulthood would have been preferable for her. A part of her baulked at the thought of using kids this way, but the larger part of her had long since lost any compassion for anyone else. People were fucked, they did horrible things to each other and you either took control or you got screwed over. Hood had taught her that. Children would only grow into bastards like the rest. She deferred to Hood and no one else and that’s the life she planned to hang on to, whatever the cost. Her hands were shaking, though she’d long since warmed through. She drank deeply once more.

Soon after seven o’clock the sound of several tyres crunching on the gravel outside roused them. Hood sat up in his chair but didn’t rise. Sparks, unable to help herself, looked out a leadlight window. The three Land Rovers, close to the front door. Hood’s men got out, dragging others with them. Seven young boys in Cub Scout uniforms, eyes wide and stained with tears, were hustled inside. Last out of the vehicles was Curly, dragging a short, fat, middle-aged man. The man wore a Scout Leader’s livery, his face twisted in abject terror.

Hood remained seated as the captives were presented to him. ‘We got lucky, after a fashion,’ Curly said. ‘A Cubs group down near Ullapool. Seven members. We weren’t sure what to do about this bloke though.’ He shoved the short man forward. ‘Or the extra kid.’

The Leader shook like he had a severe palsy. He clenched his hands together, beseeching Hood. ‘Please, whatever’s going on here, please let the children go. Do anything you want to me, but let them go.’

‘Such a noble sentiment,’ Hood said. ‘But it’s the children I need. You, not so much.’

The boys sniffed and sobbed, watching their leader with a horrified lack of understanding. ‘Please,’ the man begged. ‘What do you want? Please let us go.’

Hood addressed Curly over the distraught man. ‘Take him outside. Sparks, go with them.’

Sparks jumped, not expecting to be addressed. ‘Go with them?’

‘Remember Bashir, who tried to stiff me over that Djinn situation?’

Sparks immediately remembered the Arab on his knees, begging for his life, apologising for his foolishness, Hood stepping up behind him, placing the barrel of a semi-automatic pistol against the base of his skull. Pulling the trigger. ‘I remember.’

‘Do that to him. Curly will help you afterwards.’ Hood’s expression showed deep disinterest. He was testing her. Perhaps all her questions had shaken his faith in her.

‘Right,’ she said. ‘No problem.’

Curly dragged the blubbering man through the pub. Sparks followed. She heard Hood order Curly’s men to take the children upstairs, put them with the others.

Outside in the dark, the wind whistled, icy cold and wet. Sparks squinted against it, pointed to the far corner of the parking lot, deep in inky shadow. Curly pushed the man forward. ‘You gonna need this?’ he asked, pulling a pistol from his pocket. It gleamed with a dark menace in the night.

Sparks took the weapon. The Scout Leader craned his neck, trying to see what they were doing behind him. Sparks indicated a clump of gorse bush, its dark green spikes and sparse yellow flowers black and white in the darkness. ‘Look at that,’ she said.

The man turned his head and Sparks raised the gun, pressed it to his skull and fired. He jerked, his legs flailing out from under him as his face exploded. Curly stumbled under the sudden weight, raising his free hand against the spray of blood and brains. ‘Fucking hell, woman!’

Sparks handed him the gun, turned back to the pub. ‘Get rid of him.’ She walked away.

‘That was quick,’ Hood said.

‘No point in fucking around.’ She went to the bar, poured more whisky. Her hands shook harder than ever. She tried to ignore the fine red spray drying on her wrist. ‘What about the seventh kid?’

‘We can hardly let him go. I’ll offer him to the Sisters, I suppose. Nothing else to do with him.’

‘What are they going to do with them?’

‘I have no idea. I have to admit, I’m rather intrigued to find out.’

Sparks swallowed, poured again. ‘So what now?’

‘We wait till midnight.’

She sculled the next drink. ‘Well, in the meantime, Mr Hood, how about you take me somewhere in this place of yours and fuck me?’

‘My dear woman, you’re a mind-reader.’

Over the Atlantic Ocean Alex fought against the desire to murder. Silhouette gripped his hand, whispering to him, trying to talk him down. The entity bound into the book cajoled and infuriated him, fired his nerves with an untouchable itch. His entire body sang with a tension that could only be released through blood and havoc. Visions of himself, powered by the Darak, ripping through the passengers on board swam in his mind. He imagined tearing flesh from bones, crushing skulls under his flying fists, biting chunks from screaming people, blood spraying in arterial beauty throughout the tight, clinical cabin. He panted, sweat poured down his face. He imagined kicking out a window, watching people sucked out the tiny hole, skinned and filleted on the way through.

‘Use the stone to resist the book, Alex!’ Silhouette tried to hold his eyes. Her concern was clear, deep in her pupils, her fear that he would slip away, run berserk.

He ground his teeth, clenched his fists. He pictured his foot smashing the cockpit door down, his knuckles mangling the flight crew, taking the controls and pointing the aircraft straight down at the churning waves. He could hear the whine of the engines along with the laughter of Uthentia, singing out from somewhere in his pocket and realms away simultaneously.

He turned to the tiny portal beside him as Silhouette tried to shield them with her body from the unfortunate man in the aisle seat. She hissed as he crushed her hand in his grip, his other hand rising. The book urged him on, its desire to feel him drive his fist through into the screaming cold air rushing past outside terrible to resist.

The man beside them leaned forward, a mixture of disgust and concern on his face. ‘Is he all right?’

Silhouette didn’t look around. ‘He’s fine.’

‘You sure? He looks like he’s having a heart attack. I’m gonna call a steward.’

‘No need.’ She leaned close to Alex’s ear. ‘Use the Darak,’ she whispered. ‘Resist this!’

He felt as though his muscles would burst, desperate as he was to start laying into every stupid face around them. Fucking sheep, stupid mortal, mundane losers, running on a wheel every day, good for nothing, achieving nothing, fucking useless bags of meat. He gasped, gripping Silhouette’s hands almost hard enough to shatter them.

She let out a small cry and it twisted a knife in Alex’s heart. He concentrated only on the sensation of magic from the Darak, drew it through every part of his body, threw it like a cold, wet blanket over the fire in his mind. Uthentia’s cajoling became howls of rage as Alex used the stone to quell the urges burning through his veins.

‘You’re doing it!’ Silhouette said.

He concentrated only on the Darak and his breathing techniques, years of practice lending assistance to the magic. His body pulsated with destructive urges, but he forced a command over them. It was like trying to hold on to a hurricane, but he refused to let go.

‘I think I need a deeper … dialogue with this book,’ he said through clenched teeth.

‘You think you can communicate with it?’

‘I have no idea. It’s something way beyond my understanding. I never really know what to make of it. I just get vague impressions of what it means. But maybe I can try. It’s alive in there, I can feel its anger. It’s like a living, sentient disease inside me.’

Silhouette looked around. The man in the aisle seat studiously ignored them. Other passengers slept or stared at tiny screens. ‘I can’t see anyone obviously magical around, but they’d be masking like us. You’ll need to be careful.’

‘I can extend my own shields around the book. I can feel how to do that. I’m getting better control all the time.’ He grinned, even while shaking with the effort.

‘Good. Use the stone for yourself, use it against the book. Don’t let the book use it against you.’

Alex collected himself together. He gathered the stone’s power, his power, and built an impenetrable bubble around himself, locking down any emanations beyond the light bouncing off him. A thought occurred to him and he blocked the very concept of light as well.

‘Alex!’ Silhouette’s voice hissed urgently. ‘Alex, what the fuck? You’ve vanished!’

He let the light back in. ‘Did that work?’

Her eyes were wide. ‘You just disappeared completely. All I could see was an empty seat.’

He laughed. ‘Cool. Neat trick, eh?’

‘How?’

‘Dunno. I just sort of figured something out, a bit like the wards we use to cover our auras and colours. Sight is just another shade, I guess.’

A half-smile tugged at her lips. ‘You scare me a little bit, Caine.’

He kept the rest of the shields tight and slipped the book from his pocket. It writhed and shivered in ’sign, tendrils grasping at his hands and arms, crawling towards his face. He mentally wrapped them up and tucked them back around the grimoire, the energies of the Darak flowing with his will. He was learning to channel it more by the second and it felt good. He shivered with a pulse of fear and excitement, quick visions of sorcerers from stories flashing across his mind.

The book’s malevolence and anger throbbed in his hands. He cast his mind into it, deliberately trying to address the shred of whatever entity lay trapped within.
Let’s have a chat, you and me.

He opened the cover and the personality thrashed out like a heatwave, the pages flickering. They came to a sudden halt, script twisting and swirling. Alex let his eyes sink through it, let the meaning out.
Tiny, ragged, senseless thing a million million times insignificant. The universe alive with powers outside, the denial of all and the trappings of all.

Alex slammed a thought through, trying not to read for a moment.
You can’t finish me! I can resist you and I will destroy you.

The script writhed again.
Insignificant. The power of stone and book and world, all combined, all through me.

Alex smiled. It had never referred to itself before.
So there you are. You’re just a trapped scrap of nothing. I will destroy you.

It seemed to swell and burn in Alex’s hands, pure, shining rage. Silhouette looked at him, worried. ‘Are you pissing it off?’

‘Yeah, I think I am.’

‘I don’t know how wise that is, Alex.’

‘I can’t actually stop it right now, but I can tell it I’m going to be no victim.’

He turned his attention back to it.
You hear that, fucker? I’m not going to be your victim. I’m forming ideas, Uthentia. I’m going to get stronger and I’m going to finish you.

He let his eyes relax again, looking into the text, allowing Uthentia to speak.
Tiny, mortal mundane faeces. Nothing, you like others. Generational lives, destroyed in flames, in essence uncontained, so many more before and after now and then and always eternal.