Vengeance (36 page)
Authors: Colin Harvey
She was drained, had lived with it for so long there was nothing left. She couldn't think what to do now. There was just a vast emptiness in her. “I left him his reputation,” she said. “It was important to him. He took my family, so I took his. Vengeance doesn't get much colder."
She rose. “Good day, Ser Julius,” she said, bowing to him. “Thank you for your help this morning.” She motioned to the spellhound, and it escorted the stunned advocate out, then returned.
It watched her steadily.—So that was why I planted the Whisperer in the daughter's room, the week before the party.—
"There was no guarantee it would work,” she said. “But it did. The drip, drip, drip of suggestion did the job. Whispering ‘Hide the spells. Hide the spells.’ Even at the end she never knew where the idea for her prank
really
came from."
—Was it was all worth it in the end?—
"I don't know.” Her voice was bleak. “I just wish it felt better. All my life I've worked for this, and I just feel—well, nothing."
—One question?—
"Of course."
—If you used her and she used the zombie, do you wonder who might be pulling your strings?—
She looked at it, then burst out laughing. Her laughter rose while the spellhound held her gingerly, unsure of what to do.
"I'm sorry.” She wiped her eyes and coughed one last time. She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I suppose we're all working one another's strings in one way or another.” She asked, “What would you like to do now?"
—I have a choice?—
"I always promised you your freedom one day. Now seems as good a time as any."
It gave it some thought.—I've been a hunter ever since I can remember,—it said.—I don't really know anything else, no other way of life.—
"Tough, isn't it, when you finally get what you want?"
—I'd like to visit The Ribbon again, maybe even go to The Bubble. See how the Galactics react to my presence.—
"Okay.” She pointed to the corner. “Pass me that sitar would you?” The spellhound did so, and she twanged a string or two experimentally.
Outside the office of Sirtis and Daniels, Enquiry Agents, a still trembling Duff was supported by Damon Task.
"Spare a coin for a poor orphan child, kind Ser?” Duff looked down blankly at the source of the voice, at a child who perched unsteadily on her cart.
Eventually the child turned and wheeled away.
Behind them, from the offices came the twang of a sitar and the same five notes over and over again from a harmonica.
There's a mystery in the caves of Afghanistan—
British Special Agent Josh Cassidy knows there is no such thing as a routine mission when he is sent to accompany an ill-prepared band of reservists on a hastily prepared mission into the heart of Afghanistan. The mysterious heat source that showed up on the military satellites could be just about anything, but nobody is prepared for what they actually find...
"Imagine Raymond Feist's Riftwars crossed with Stephen Baxter's love of large timescales and you're starting to appreciate the story.”
Interzone
"This is a book that I could not put down.”
Amazon
"An enthralling book.”
Reader Views
Imagine.... your name is given to you from the dying breath of a semi-sentient jewel—and that to change it is heresy.... a world where the gods walk among us.... where hot air balloons and hang gliders co-exist with magic.... a small city-state perched atop a giant albino rock, between two great empires.... a young woman whose foolish prank may cost her life at any moment. Imagine you are in The Silk Palace.
"The city—state of Whiterock, with its Silk Palace formed from nearly indestructible spider webs, is perched atop a high mountain between two rival empires. Here, changing one's name is tantamount to heresy, and the gods themselves sometimes take a direct interest in the world. Into this volatile situation arrives a young woman named Bluestocking, ostensibly to translate some rare and puzzling scrolls, but the secret she bears may rescue or undo the world. Harvey (Lightning Days) brings to life a compelling world of flying machines, wizardry, and divine magic in a novel that belongs in most fantasy collections.”
Library Journal
"A most excellent fantasy.”
Armchair Interviews
Fantasy with attitude, it's dark, disturbing and yet retains all those elements which make fantasy readers come back for more. It's engaging protagonist Bluestocking, innocently drifts into political intrigue, magical religious machinations and fear, and in a world where ‘Gods walk amongst men', she eventually meets and battles with the vilest of demi-gods. It's pacy, interesting stuff with hooks a-plenty. Highly recommended.”
Amazon
Meet Frances Dedman. She works part-time as Faith DuQuayne, reading tarot cards for a living on Brighton Pier.
It's July 2005 and the eyes of the world are on London. The media are distracted. Normally the disappearance of a fifteen-year-old schoolgirl in a nearby seaside town would be headline news, but the July 7th bombings have consigned Natalie Parrish's disappearance to the inside pages.
When Natalie's father hires a private investigator, Frances gets more involved than she should. The police aren't happy about a blind girl and her ex-policeman uncle nosing around, but fighting terrorists is draining their people away, and they need all the help they can get, however much they may not like it, especially when a second wave of attacks and the shooting of an innocent man stretch them to breaking point.
The police would be even less happy about her involvement if they knew the truth about Frances’ blindness, but not even being able to ‘read’ other people can keep her safe. In fact, her blind faith in her abilities may be the biggest danger of all...
"Colin Harvey is an author to watch.”
Amazon
A lecturer, haunted by the ghost of his unborn brother ... a man whose out-of-body experiences show him a terrifying secret behind closed doors ... a nascent nine-year-old serial killer awaits the visit of her friends ... an innocent-seeming woodland begins to bare its secrets...
Eleven cross-genre thrillers; eleven short stories that show the killers that lurk in the strangest of places, from prize-winning authors Gary Fry, Jonathan Maberry, Paul Meloy, Lee Thomas, World Fantasy Award-winner Bruce Holland Rogers, and others.
Coming from Swimming Kangaroo Books in September 2008.
"Are you mad?” Detective Chief Superintendent Karen Hardwicke shouted at Max. “Stick a blind girl into an undercover operation?” With the dark circles under her eyes and her sunken cheeks, she looked as haggard as Max felt.
He fought to keep going, beyond a rising tide of weariness. Sleep debt was cumulative and took its toll when the adrenaline began to fade; each obstacle now was like a mountain to climb.
Hah,
he thought,
and you want to go out with a young girl? She'd be the death of you in a week. You should never have gone out with her, should have caught up on your kip, like a sensible old man.
Still, he kept his tiredness from his voice and made the presentation crisp. “That's the whole point, ma'am. I wrote to you to say that she offered, and I declined. She has limited martial arts training, ma'am; she is a willing volunteer; we are desperately, desperately short-handed, and there's nothing in PAUCHIS that forbids it. Quite the opposite. BUT...” he let the sentence hang.
"Not quite the opposite,” she said, straightening. “The Procedure for the Authorised Use of Covert Human Intelligence Sources"—she was using the full title to put him in his place, to say
no barrack-room lawyer's going to put one over on me, sonny
—"states that ‘Vulnerable individuals such as the handicapped will only be required to act as a source in the most
exceptional
circumstances.” She finished with, “That does not mean that it should
ever
be considered when it's a blind girl. There's vulnerable, and there's vulnerable."
He said, “Half our people away surely counts as an exceptional circumstance, ma'am.” He added, “And this is only Level 1 criminality. Irritating though the Reverend Jo and her gang are, it's only local fraud. If it spills into another force's territory, or they're holding Natalie Parrish and that level of seriousness escalates it to Level 2, then we pull our operative out straightaway."
"If this memo of yours leaks, you are history, Max."
"It won't leak, ma'am. If it does, it won't be from me. There's only the two of us know about it.”
And all the systems boys, of course, and anyone else who knows how to access e-mails.
He added, “I had to put the offer in writing. If I didn't consider it seriously, and if necessary, produce the evidence, she could have sued us under the Disability Discrimination Act."
"Where is she now?” Karen rubbed her face with her hand, as if using an invisible flannel to wash away the fatigue.
"I sent her home with a flea in her ear."
The truth was he had no idea where Frances was. He hoped that she was alright.
Frances winced as she moved her head. While she had been stunned, someone had opened the door and thrown a hard plastic object in. Something had rattled inside it as it bounced. Then it had all gone quiet.
I wonder where they've put me
? It felt cold and damp beneath her naked body, and the room smelled dank and dirty, the air stale.
She straightened and bumped against a wall. Things fell on her; what felt like brushes and brooms and
something soft!
She snatched her hand away and tried to change position and bumped against the other wall.
It's no different being in here than in any room,
she told herself, but suddenly it didn't feel the same at all. She was in an enclosed space.
She scrabbled and straightened up and shrieked as her face brushed against what felt like a cobweb. “Hello?” she shouted, and her voice came back at her instantly so the walls were all close, and she was in somewhere dirty and tiny and full of spiders and the sound of her own voice dopplering off the walls and something tiny ran across her foot.
Somewhere, someone was screaming, and her fingers hurt with splinters from scrabbling at the door. Her throat was raw, and a presence was moving at the back of her mind, just as something brushed her other foot, and
please, please, God, get me out of here, just get me away from here, no more no more no more
—
Someone switched off the world.
