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Authors: Sam Enthoven

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BOOK: The Black Tattoo
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"Charlie?" said a voice.
 
It was Jack.
 
"Charlie, what's happened?"

For a moment, Charlie didn't answer.
 
His eyes, though red from crying, were shining strangely.
 
He blinked, looked at Jack, and smiled.

"It's all right, mate," he said slowly.
 
"It's all going to be all right."

Esme — who'd been holding Nick's wrist — looked at Raymond.
 
There was a long silence.
 
Then she said, "He's dead."

 

*
       
*
       
*
       
*
       
*

 

"Three o'clock tomorrow," barked Raymond to Charlie, as he bundled the boys through the door.

"But what about that guy?" spluttered Jack.
 
"He's, you know... dead!"

"Not your problem, mate," said Raymond.
 
"Three o'clock
sharp
," he emphasized, still looking at Charlie.

"What about me?" asked Jack, before the door closed.

Raymond paused.

"I don't know," he said, his eyes narrowing at Jack.
 
"What about you?"

"He comes or I don't," said Charlie.

"Suit yourself."
 
The big man turned and was gone.

Jack and Charlie stared at the door for a moment, even though it had slammed shut.
 
They looked at each other, then they looked out at the street.

The sky was empty of clouds, and the afternoon sun was still hot and strong, making the pavement blaze uncomfortably.
 
Traffic was heavy in both directions, and another long snake of sweaty-looking tourists was crawling its way west on the opposite side of the street.

Charlie turned to Jack.
 
"It's too hot for the Tube," he said.
 
"Let's get a bus."

"Oh," said Jack, surprised.
 
"Er, okay."
 
They set off, and soon they were safely wobbling their way north, back toward where they both lived.

They were sitting on the top deck of the bus, at the front, where they always sat, like everything was perfectly normal.
 
It was almost as if — Jack thought — the whole episode had been some kind of dream.
 
When he found that he couldn't stand it any longer, Jack spoke.

"Charlie, are you all right?"

"Huh?" said Charlie, drumming his hands on his knees.

"Are you all
right?
" Jack repeated.

"I'm fine, mate!" said Charlie.
 
"Better than fine:
 
I'm terrific.
 
Fantastic.
 
Amazing!"

Jack looked at him.
 
Charlie's eyes were shining:
 
his grin was huge.
 
He certainly looked well enough.

"What about your hands?" Jack asked.

"What?
 
Oh," said Charlie.
 
He stopped drumming and showed them to Jack.
 
"Look, they're fine too.
 
Not a scratch!"

It was true.
 
Charlie's hands looked perfectly normal; there were no outward signs of his ordeal.
 
There was no sign in Charlie of anything that had happened, in fact, from the scene in the restaurant to... whatever the hell had just taken place upstairs at the theater.

"So," said Jack.
 
"Let me get this straight."

Charlie looked at him and grinned some more.

"Demons are real," Jack started.

"Apparently," said Charlie.

"And there's one on the loose.
 
A bad one."

"'Liquid darkness, bent on destruction,' yadda yadda yadda," said Charlie.

"And
you
," said Jack, grinning back despite himself, "are now the new leader of an ancient brotherhood whose sole sworn purpose is to fight this... 'scourge' — and bring it back under control."

"That's about the size of it, yeah," said Charlie.
 
His grin widened.
 
"Pretty cool, huh?"

Jack was doing his best:
 
really, he was, and Charlie's enthusiasm, as always, was infectious.
 
But a large part of his brain just couldn't help having doubts, and he knew that he had to say something.

"What about that guy, though?" Jack asked.
 
"The one who just, like,
died
 
right in front of us?"

Charlie's grin vanished.
 
"Jack, don't get boring on me, all right?"

Stung to the quick, Jack closed his mouth and fell silent.

Being called boring — especially by Charlie — was Jack's Achilles heel.
 
The idea that he was boring scared Jack, because secretly, he was worried it might be true.
 
Jack admired Charlie's ability to throw himself into things.
 
It was part of the reason they got on.

Perhaps seeing the effect that his words had had, Charlie smiled again.

"Mate, this is what we've been waiting for," he breathed.
 
"The chance to have a real adventure!
 
Don't you see?
 
Heh," he added, chuckling to himself, "and what about that Esme, eh?"

"What about her?" asked Jack, as casually as he could.

"Come on, man," said Charlie.
 
"You were there."

Jack squirmed for a second as Charlie grinned in his face, and finally admitted, "She's all right."

"All right?" Charlie echoed with disbelief.
 
"She's better than all right, mate.
 
She's
gorgeous
.
 
And did you see the way she looked at me?"

Jack hadn't, but his lack of reply didn't seem to stop Charlie.

"Oh yes," Charlie pronounced sagely.
 
"Very promising, I'd say."

There was a pause.

"So," said Jack, giving up trying to sort it all out in his head.
 
"This 'power' they guy gave you.
 
You're what, some kind of superhero now?"

"I guess we'll find out tomorrow," said Charlie gleefully.

"You going to start wearing your pants outside your trousers, then?" asked Jack.
 
"Do you think we should get you a cape?"

"Tchah,
right
," said Charlie, looking out of the window again.

 

 

DARKNESS

 

People are used to seeing the homeless in the West End, and as the day passed and Jessica sat motionless in her circle, few people noticed her and none cared.
 
That night, when the Scourge came to her for the second time, it just stood there at first, testing the protective ring of magic-charged tobacco and cigarette ends with long, wet, ink-black fingers.

"
Do you believe in God, Jessica
?" it asked.

Jessica had now been sitting cross-legged on the damp concrete walkway, without changing her position, for a full twenty four hours.
 
She did not dignify this with a reply.

"
I've met him, you know
," the demon told her conversationally.
 
"
Your 'God.'
 
He's rather different from how you imagine him, I should think.
 
Still, I'm looking forward to seeing him again.
 
I want to tell him exactly what I think of him.
"

Jessica didn't answer.

"
It was clever of you to suspect Nick all this time
," said the Scourge, unperturbed.
 
"
No one else guessed he would never complete the ritual to reimprison me.
 
Even he thought he was strong enough to resist — right up until the end
."

Surprised despite herself, Jessica looked up.

"
Yes
," the Scourge told her, "
Nick's dead.
 
And I have found a worthy vessel at last
."

Jessica said nothing.

"
He's perfect
," said the demon.
 
"
Young, hotheaded, and with a pain and fury inside him that is most
" — "
invigorating.
 
When the time comes for him to understand what I can offer him, there's no chance whatsoever he'll refuse me.
 
You see, I'm not just going to make him into a god
."
 
It leaned closer.
 
"
I'm going to make him
stronger
than God
."

The Scourge took a step toward her.

"
I'm going to take your life, Jessica
," it said.
 
"
I'm going to suck out your essence, to your last breath; I'm going to do the same to each of your little band until I've had my satisfaction from every one of you.
 
And then,
then
, with this boy as my puppet, I'm going to open the Fracture, and
—"

"And what?" Jessica interrupted, making a face.
 
"What is your 'sinister master plan to conquer the world,' exactly?
 
I wish you'd tell me straight, instead of all this posing."

"
My dear woman
," said the Scourge slowly, "
I may still be stuck here in this ludicrous little science project, but I assure you, my horizons are somewhat wider.
 
When I go back to Hell I'm going to wake the Dragon — and the Dragon is going to destroy everything.
 
Well?
" it asked.
 
"
What do you think of that
?"

"Would you be quiet, please?" said Jessica.
 
"I'm trying to concentrate here."

The demon froze.

"
It's started, Jessica
," it told her quietly.
 
"
There's nothing anyone can do to prevent it
."

Jessica just closed her eyes again.

 

*
       
*
       
*
       
*
       
*

 

Esme was far too angry to sleep — and whenever she couldn't sleep, she trained.
 
At this moment, she was using her makiwara boards.

The makiwara boards were the only pieces of actual training equipment that Raymond had ever allowed her to own or use.
 
Five solid oak blocks screwed to the wall in the shape of a cross at the far end of her training room, their purpose was brutally simple.
 
With her fists, her knees, her elbows — with every striking point of her body from the top of her forehead to the backs of her heels — she was hitting the blocks as fast, as hard, and as often as she could.

Students of the martial arts have used makiwara boards — or their equivalents — for centuries.
 
They are used to toughen the skin, to deaden and finally kill the nerve endings in the student's striking points — to make the student's body as resilient, as hard, as the wood.
 
The purpose of makiwara training is also mental:
 
thanks to her years with the blocks, Esme had learned to control her pain and not let it affect her.

She had been hitting the boards for about an hour.
 
Standing behind her, Raymond noted wearily that each of the five dark oak surfaces now carried a telltale dark smudge of red.

"Esme?"

She ignored him, continuing to smash at the boards.

Raymond stood behind her, watching her, watching the way the muscles in her back bunched and moved as she worked:
 
graceful, efficient — lethal.
 
It was odd, he thought, how being so proud of someone could hurt you so much at the same time.

"I'm sorry, petal," he said quietly.
 
"I..."
 
He looked at his feet.
 
"I didn't know the test would be like that."

"Don't make excuses," said Esme, without looking — without stopping.
 
WHAM.
 
CRACK.
 
CRUNCH
.
 
A knee strike, an elbow smash, and a straight punch followed each other into the boards.
 
Under the last, one of them splintered.
 
"That's what you've always told me, right?
 
No excuses."

There was nothing to say.
 
Raymond looked at her helplessly.
 
Should he tell her how astonished he still was that after all these years, all the hard work he and Esme had put in, Nick should give the job of new leader to a novice?
 
No.
 
That was all just doubt.
 
Nick had told them to trust him, and with the Scourge on the loose, doubt was a luxury.
 
Still...

"Esme, I want to tell you something."

He looked back down at his feet and took a deep breath.

"I don't pretend to know a lot about magic," he said carefully.
 
"That side of things is best left to those who have the gift, and that's fine with me, as you know.
 
But in my time, I've met some pretty powerful people.
 
I saw Nick in action in the early days.
 
Your mum too.
 
And I—"
 
He stopped suddenly and took another deep breath.

"Well.
 
Here's what I wanted to say."

He looked at her hard.

"There's something a bit special about you," he said.
 
"I know it."

He paused.

"Now, if this 'Charlie' is the new leader, well, that's it, that's how it is.
 
But I'm telling you, there's no chance we can recapture the Scourge without your help — no chance at all.
 
This is still what we've been working and training for," he told her fervently.
 
"This is still your moment to break out and spread your wings:
 
your moment to shine.
 
So... will you stop that now and get some rest?
 
Please?"

BOOK: The Black Tattoo
7.85Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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