Mammon (17 page)

IVAN LED THE
team past the kitchen and into a narrow, bleakly lit stairwell. Another squad of mercenaries met them at the top of the stairs. Malcolm nodded to one of them. ‘Sounds like we've been demoted to bodyguard work,' he muttered, taking two steps at a time.

‘Well, let's hope the Callahans are worth it,' his friend replied.

They reached the end of the stairs, and Ivan flicked on the lights, filling the basement with a fluorescent glow. Several vehicles, jeeps mostly, were nestled close to the walls, but two cars sat ready in the middle of the car park.

‘This is your graduation present,' said Ivan.

‘You're kidding.' Joe stared at the car. ‘For me?'

Grace kept her face calm despite the indignant lump in her throat. ‘It's not
his
birthday,' she muttered.

‘Wow.' Malcolm gritted his teeth. ‘That's really something.'

Sarah looked at him. ‘What's
your
problem? I seem to recall your father giving you a Mercedes when you made the team.'

‘Several months afterwards,' Malcolm said. ‘And it was second-hand.'

‘Well,' Sarah said, ‘we've got more money now. So suck it up, princess.' She rolled her eyes.

‘Get in.' Ivan opened the driver's door. ‘Let me show you what she can do. I'll drive there, you can drive back.'

Grace ran her finger over the roof. The car looked familiar – from Joe's bedroom posters. ‘This is a Mustang, right?'

‘Yeah!' Joe jumped into the front passenger seat and ran his fingers over the dashboard.

‘Imported from the US just last month.' Ivan touched a screen next to the steering wheel; the dashboard came to life in an array of green lights. ‘Step out for a minute.'

The basement was bathed in a strange blue glow. ‘See the incantations?' Beneath the paintwork were rows of blue script from front to back. ‘Demon repellent. If there was a ghoulie in the room right now, he'd be looking for the nearest exit – but not knowing why.' Ivan looked at Grace. ‘Almost telepathic in power.'

‘But not as good as me,' she said.

‘Can you sit in the middle?' Sarah whispered. ‘I don't want to sit next to Malcolm.'

‘Sure.' Grace slid into the back seat. As Sarah entered the car, Grace gave her a sideways glance. Sarah's brow was sweaty; her eyes glazed. Her mouth tense. ‘Are you okay?'

Sarah looked away. ‘I feel a little low today.'

Ivan peered into the rear-vision mirror. ‘Can you handle this, Sarah?'

She scowled. ‘Yes, Ivan. I'll be fine.' She ground her teeth at his indiscreet questioning.

Grace frowned at the strain in Sarah's voice. ‘You okay?'

Malcolm slammed his door shut, turned, and smirked at his stepsister. ‘Off the meds, are we? Tut, tut. Remember, you're a soldier. Don't get all weepy, now.'

‘Go to hell.' Tight-jawed, Sarah stared out the window.

Ivan turned in the driver's seat and gave Malcolm a hard stare. ‘Do not agitate my team. Understand?'

Malcolm shrugged. ‘
I'm
part of your team.'

Ivan stared at him. ‘Then act it.'

Malcolm locked eyes with Ivan as long as he could and then broke away. ‘Fine,' he muttered, slumping in his seat.

Grace stared at Sarah's profile. She didn't want to pry, but . . . ‘Are you okay?'

‘Forget it for now. Please.' Sarah drew a deep breath, folded her arms and stared out the window.

The engine growled as Ivan revved the accelerator. He poked his head out the window and peered at the other mercenaries in the jeep.

‘Got the coordinates? Good.' He revved the engine and winked at Joe. ‘Because they're not going to be able to keep up with us.'

Malcolm rolled his eyes.

With a squeal, the Mustang sped out on to the driveway and through the gates.

* * *

ADRENALINE SHOT UP
Grace's spine as Ivan gunned the car past a truck before smoothly weaving it back into the traffic. She felt a primal thrill at how confidently he handled the car.

The hair on the back of his head was starting to grow out a little. He hadn't shaved – perhaps he was growing facial hair – but it gave a rough edge to his face that she found sexy.

‘About ninety minutes,' she heard him say. Joe was fiddling with the radio. Malcolm had turned his body away; Sarah was leaning back, eyes closed.

Grace rested her head on the seat and watched the countryside pass by – rambling green pastures broken up by the occasional house or the red flash of a tractor. Eventually they hit the clustered depression of the outer suburbs. Crossing a railway line, they moved on to a narrow, potholed road where asbestos fences, stained brown by bore water, separated decaying weatherboard houses from one another. Kids gathered in groups on the pavement. As the cars passed, they watched with hard, defiant faces.

Thank God they never had to live here.

They turned right and sped north on the freeway. To the left, the City's skyscrapers gleamed in the afternoon sun.

After another half-hour, they turned on to the major road that led all the way to the City's northern limits.

She stared at Ivan's neck. The heat and warmth of his body on hers during those early days of physical training – she missed it. When would she get a chance to touch him again? Her head grew light as she descended into another fantasy . . .

The skin on the back of his neck was warm as she ran her fingers through his hair. He grabbed her with one arm and yanked her around so she was facing him and pulled her close. His stubble rubbed against her neck, leaving a red glow on her skin. Then, he tilted his head and started kissing her . . .

‘Grace!' Joe was looking at her.

She jolted. ‘What!' With a grimace, she glanced at the mirror, where Ivan was watching her. Was there a glint of something in his eyes?
Could he tell? Her hand flew up to her neck as a flush ran across her face.

‘Look!' Joe pointed to the right as they turned on to a side street. ‘Our house.'

Two family cars now sat in the driveway. The lawn was obsessively trimmed; trendy wooden blinds hung in the window. Two bikes lay on the grass; a fresh white letterbox sat on the lawn's edge.

‘Sorry,' Ivan said. ‘I was following the satnav.' He looked at Grace in the mirror again. ‘I did not realise we would go past your old home.'

‘It's okay,' Grace whispered. The same images came to mind – pictures of that final, awful night that moving three hundred kilometres away couldn't erase. But seeing the house made them even more raw, more visceral. She turned away as drips of rain hit the windscreen.

Sarah gave her a sympathetic smile.

A few minutes later, Ivan slowed the car. ‘We're here.'

They pulled over at the edge of a crossroad. ‘The brown duplex,' Ivan said. ‘With the grey roller-door.' He unbuckled his seat belt. ‘They're in the garage.'

A boy was standing across the road from the house. He peered around before pressing something into another boy's hand. The first boy was the taller of the two and his hoodie covered his face. He nodded; the second boy walked away.

Then the first boy turned and looked in their direction.

‘Uh oh,' Sarah said.

Grace gripped the driver's headrest. ‘Hang on . . . I know him!'

Joe squinted. ‘Who is he?'

‘Jesse Tyler!'

‘Put him off, Grace,' Ivan said sharply. ‘We don't need any unwanted attention.'

Grace stared at the boy's forehead, pummelling him with go-away messages.
Nobody's here. The car is empty.
The boy stared for another few seconds, then he shrugged and turned in the direction of the duplex.

‘Good girl,' Ivan said. He nodded in the rear-view mirror as the jeep pulled up behind. ‘Okay. Our back-up's here but they're not getting out of the car unless I signal them.'

‘Jesse's got a terrible family life,' said Grace. She closed her eyes, flinching at the memory of tapping into his mind, feeling the burn of the belt as his father lashed him.

When she opened her eyes, everyone was looking at her. Joe frowned. ‘You're not feeling sorry for him, are you?'

‘Perhaps he can be turned around.'

Malcolm made a hissing sound. ‘Don't be stupid!'

‘Grace.' Ivan tapped the touchscreen. ‘Here's his rap sheet. Want to know how many violent crimes he's committed?'

She shrugged. ‘I just know that he's had it rough.'

‘Tough. He's a target. You just saw him dealing to a child!' Ivan tapped the touchscreen again. ‘Scanning for infra-red.' An image of the garage appeared, lit up in fluorescence. Ivan pointed to the pink shapes, moving around the building. ‘Our targets. Five of them, as we predicted – including your friend.'

He looked at Grace. ‘So, what are your orders?'

‘Mask our presence continually.'

‘That's right. And why must you do that?'

‘There'll be less resistance that way.'

‘That's all you need to do.' He gave her a hard stare until she nodded.

‘Joe, you open a rift in the middle of the room. We will get them inside. That way there's no confusion. Grace, once more: what are your orders?'

‘Masking our presence from the second we leave the car.'

‘And?'

‘Nothing else.'

‘Good. Let's move.'

Ivan led the group. Sarah was next; Malcolm trailed behind Grace and Joe. All armed with harpoon shotguns, all creeping on their toes along the spookily quiet street.

Grace drew a long breath, her heart thumping as they crossed the road. From a distance she focused on the garage, sending ripples of telepathic energy into the place.
Nobody is here. The street is empty.

Ivan looked back. ‘Are you going to be able to handle this boy, Grace?'

She nodded.

Ivan yanked up the roller-door; Grace doubled her concentration.

It was a small room – a false front – another roller-door separated them from the inner sanctum.

The boy turned around with a start, but broke into a mocking smile. ‘Grace Callahan. Back for some more, eh?' His demonic Shadow looked thicker, murkier than before. ‘You must be one of them bitches that like a bit of rough.'

Grace breathed out, relieved. The masking had worked – Jesse Tyler had no idea that four mercenaries were standing next to her. Couldn't see them or hear them.

Oh, but she could feel the demons. The nausea burned its way up her throat, bile forced up by her clenching stomach. Cold fingers seemed to be pressing on her spine. It appeared as though her reaction to demonic energy was getting stronger, more intense.

She swallowed hard and stared at Jesse.

‘Grace, why have you revealed yourself?' Ivan looked at Sarah. ‘Sanderson, give her some cover.'

‘I can't,' said Sarah with a strained voice. ‘She's blocking me.' She pressed her hand to her forehead. ‘Grace, stop it!'

But Grace raised her hand. ‘Look, Jesse. I know that you're dealing. But you don't have to do any of that. I can help you.'

Joe groaned. ‘Oh, Grace!'

Inside, the demon Travis Tyler was sitting at a table, playing cards with the others. He glanced across at the security monitor, where his little brother was talking to some chick. He watched for a few seconds and then turned back to his cards.

Malcolm ground his teeth. ‘I knew this would happen!' He eyed Jesse through his gun sight. ‘I'll just take him out now.'

‘You stand firm, Penbury,' Ivan said.

Jesse spat on the ground near Grace's feet. ‘You think I'm
unhappy
?'

Grace held her ground. ‘Surely you are! But I can help you. Or you'll have to accept what happens. You're in trouble, Jesse.'

Frost began to spread down his legs, pooling around his feet and crawling across the concrete.

Ivan stepped closer to her. ‘You didn't read his rap sheet, Grace. Burglary, aggravated assault – oh, one of his victims was an eighty-one-year-old woman. Do you want me to go on? People have tried to rehabilitate him. He's rejected it every time! He wants to do evil!'

Sarah watched the frost climb up the walls. ‘Uh, guys, we'd better do something – quick!'

Jesse smirked at Grace. ‘I like my life. I like what I do. Nobody can stop me.'

‘I will, Jesse.'

‘Ha!' He whipped a knife from his pocket and plunged towards her, the blade cutting through the air.

Grace stumbled away. She broke concentration; Jesse's mouth fell open as four people appeared out of nowhere.

‘Travis!' A gang member pointed to the TV monitor. ‘Company!'

The gang jumped to their feet, smashing over the table, spilling cola all over the playing cards. In their haste none of them saw the rift forming in the front room.

‘Back-up!' Ivan shouted. The other mercenaries flew out of the jeep and pounded down the street.