Bound (19 page)

Alex tried to think through his pain and the desolation in his mind. He had lost a fight. He’d been saved by this fat woman and her gun. He didn’t know how to feel. ‘I have no idea,’ he said, gasping, trying to regain some composure.

Silhouette lay across the smashed room, moaning softly.
Thank fuck she’s still alive.
He dragged himself across the floor to her, fumbling in her pockets for the healing powder.

‘I’m calling the cops,’ the hotel clerk said.

‘No, please, no police.’

‘What? Are you kidding?’

She was right. What excuse could he have not to call the police? He couldn’t tell her the truth. His eyes beseeched her. ‘Please, no police.’

She backed out the door. ‘Fuck you and fuck that!’ She turned and barrelled down the hallway.

Alex cursed and pulled Sil’s pouch from her waistband.

Outside the hotel window the planesbird hovered, leathery wings beating the air. It watched the mayhem in the small room. As the fight ended with a flash and a boom, it swooped away, slipping through a fold in reality with a coppery flash of realmshift.

Alex mixed the bittersweet medicine and sipped it, hoping he hadn’t made it too strong. Or not strong enough. Trying to ignore the burning lacerations all over his body, he lifted Silhouette’s head and tipped the glass against her lips. She drank, eyelids fluttering.

‘I hurt inside, Alex.’ Her voice was weak.

‘Drink this. It’ll fix you, right?’

Her eyes flickered open. ‘I hope so.’

They passed the glass back and forth till it was empty.

‘I have never been beaten up so often,’ Alex muttered. ‘And I fight for a living. That thing fucking beat me.’ His clothes hung ragged and bloodstained.

Silhouette said nothing.

‘If that woman hadn’t had a gun,’ Alex said, his face haunted. He could already feel the potion infiltrating his wounds, reknitting his flesh.

‘She did,’ Sil said. ‘There’s a million what ifs in the world. This time you got lucky.’

‘I don’t use luck,’ Alex said angrily. ‘I don’t lose fights!’

‘You lost this one. Get used to it. So did I. Move on.’

Alex grimaced.

She dropped the empty glass to the carpet beside her. ‘My powder’s nearly finished. I can make more, but not easily. I need rare ingredients.’

‘How rare?’

‘Not from this realm. Things that grow in The Other Lands.’

Alex frowned, trying to comprehend the statement. ‘You’ve been there?’

‘Fuck no. I buy from dealers, but it’s hard to find and damned expensive.’

‘Can you go there?’

‘I guess so. I have Fey blood. If they can get here on thin days, I don’t see why I couldn’t go there. Screw that, though.’

Alex stared at the human–insect hybrid on the floor, yellow ichor thickening on the carpet all around what used to be its head. ‘What the hell is that thing?’

‘I have no idea. I’ve never seen anything like it. Of course, there’s more in these realms than I could possibly know about.’

‘It said Hood will be pleased and Black Diamond gets the goods again. What does that mean?’

‘Best guess is Black Diamond’s some kind of organisation and this Hood character is in charge. I suppose Hood sent that thing after us.’

The stone pulsed against Alex’s chest, keeping time with his calming heart as the medicine worked. ‘This Hood seems to want my book and stone. I wish I could give them to him.’

‘Alex, you have to dissociate the two. The book needs to go. The Darak is your greatest ally. Don’t let the book poison your mind against your greatest weapon.’

‘The power it gave me against that thing
was
intoxicating, even if it wasn’t enough.’

Silhouette struggled into a crouch. ‘Exactly. Uthentia wants you dead, but the stone is your friend. Let it in.’

‘I keep remembering that thing on the island. I don’t want to be like that.’

‘You won’t. That thing must have been utterly self-obsessed when it first found the shard. You’re not like it.’

Alex stood, every muscle protesting. ‘We have to go. That woman is calling the police. How are you feeling?’

‘Fucked. But I can walk.’

She went to the window, snatching up her jacket on the way. Alex grabbed his own from the floor, their backpack from the bed and followed. They clambered out onto the fire escape, darkness creeping in, bringing more wet and cold with it. They gained the roof, ran across to the edge. A gap of about twenty feet, dropping down into a dark, wet alley, greeted them.

‘Look.’ Sil pointed at a police car pulling up to the kerb out front. ‘We have to go.’

The next building was fifteen feet down and twenty feet away, with nothing in between. ‘I can’t make a jump like that!’ Alex protested.

‘Yes. You can.’

‘No way.’

‘Alex, you’re about the fittest, most capable human I’ve ever known. And you have a talisman that makes Joseph’s gem look like something from a Christmas cracker. Use it, ignore the book. I bet you could have beat that thing back there if you’d really opened yourself to the Darak.’

That gave him pause. There was some truth in it, which only made the loss harder to bear. He remembered the power surging through him as he fought the Subcontractor. The thing would have torn any number of normal humans apart, but the Darak had made him hard, fast, strong. Not strong and fast enough, but maybe that was his fault. Whatever the Subcontractor had been it was an enemy he hoped never to meet again. With only a single shard he’d fought against two gargoyles and won. He’d fought Ataro and won. Maybe it was time he listened to Silhouette and took true ownership of it. He wouldn’t end up like that abomination on the island. His was a better destiny. The book whined in his mind, frustration and anger. He smiled.
Good. Am I annoying you?

He took several long strides backwards, gathering energy from the Darak as Silhouette’s powder healed him. He let its magic soak through him, pictured himself leaping easily over the wide gap. Letting out a deep breath, he sprinted for the building’s edge and sprang forward, his legs like pistons, driving him up. He cleared the alleyway and another dozen feet beyond, crashing and rolling onto the opposite roof in a spray of gravel.

Silhouette landed lithely behind him and strolled over. ‘You’re lacking a certain finesse, but that’s kinda the idea.’

He laughed, buzzing with power. ‘That felt wicked!’

‘Good. Let’s do it again. Try to keep up.’

She ran, sidestepped an air-conditioning unit, and bounded over the next gap. Alex whooped, his body feeling more alive than it ever had. He chased her, leaping easily over another alley, springing up to grab the edge of the next roof, twenty feet above. Silhouette was already airborne as he dragged himself up, on her way to the next building. He doubled his speed, the cold evening air whipping past his face. He ran, leapt, rolled and laughed, catching up to Silhouette in seconds. Together they cleared several more rooftops before heading down a fire escape, hand over hand, and flipping to the back street below. They slowed to a jog and strolled out into the main road, panting.

Alex couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. ‘I feel like Batman!’

‘Welcome to my world. You kept up well.’

‘I love this!’

‘No shit.’ Her smile faded as she looked him up and down. ‘You look like you’ve been wrestling a tiger. Change clothes.’

They slipped into the darkness of the back street and Alex shrugged off the backpack, changed quickly in the gloom. He stuffed his torn, bloody clothes into a dumpster behind a burger bar and they headed back out into the main street.

‘I vote we get out of this one-horse town,’ Silhouette said. ‘The main airport is in St John. Let’s get there and try to organise a flight back to the mainland.’

‘How do we get to St John? And what do we do when we get back to the mainland?’

Silhouette shrugged. ‘I’ll get us to St John. You worry about finding Meera, because we’re fresh out of direction right about now.’

Mr Hood sat behind his giant desk, painstakingly cleaning a Nordic idol with alcohol solution and cotton buds. He frowned at the phone on his desk, a voice coming through tinny over the speaker. ‘I don’t want anything illegal, Mr Hood.’ The voice had a strong Asian accent.

‘Nothing illegal? Please, Mr Choy, what do you take me for?’

Crackling laughter burst out. ‘You don’t want me to answer that. Your reputation is not unsullied.’

Hood tutted. ‘My reputation is what led you to me. It’s what’s enabled me to meet your needs in the past. If you don’t like it, you can deal elsewhere.’

‘No need for hostility. I just don’t want illegal goods.’

Hood barked a laugh. ‘Who’s to judge the legality of the things I supply you? You want to run anything you’ve bought from me by the police and see what they have to say?’

‘No, no, no. Let me rephrase. I don’t want anything that has a history attached. A history that might come looking for it, you understand?’

‘Yes, Mr Choy, I understand. This latest selection comes from a deceased estate that I had been negotiating with for some time. Let’s just say I got lucky with my timing on this one. The previous owner certainly won’t be coming after these things.’ He looked up at Sparks, mimed stabbing himself in the eyes with two fingers, grinning.

Sparks grinned back. She sat in one corner, bathed in winter sunlight flooding in through the window, tapping away at a laptop perched on her knees.

‘Very well,’ Choy said. ‘If you’re sure these items come without repercussions, then there are several grimoires in that collection which interest me.’

‘I thought there would be. Use the usual encrypted channel to list the items and I’ll have secured example files sent over. If you’re happy, then we can arrange a visit for you.’

‘At the prices you’re suggesting, I hope you’ll meet the expense of my visit yourself, Mr Hood,’ Choy wheedled.

Hood rolled his eyes. ‘Tell me what you’re interested in and I’ll see what I can tee up.’

‘Very good, very good. I’ll contact you again soon.’

‘You do that.’ Hood viciously stabbed a button on the phone, scowling. ‘That fucking Choy,’ he said, derisive. ‘Always has to haggle.’

Sparks laughed. ‘It’s his way. It’s cultural.’

‘Fuck culture. He’ll try to get a discount too, you wait and see.’

‘I know he will. But let’s be honest, we have a pretty broad margin on this collection.’ She smiled at him, one eyebrow cocked.

‘Well, yes, there is that. But I’ll never reduce a profit margin, however wide. Real power is not in magic but in the commerce of magic, Sparks. It’s a shame my poverty-stricken mage of a father didn’t realise that.’ An urgent rapping on the door interrupted him. He sighed, putting down the half-cleaned idol. ‘Come.’

The door creaked open and Jackson looked in, his face nervous. One of his hideous birds perched on his shoulder. ‘Er, Mr Hood, sir?’

‘Yes, yes, come in. What is it?’

‘This little one just reported back, sir.’

‘Yes. And?’

‘The Subcontractor, sir. He’s dead.’ Jackson stared at the floor as he spoke.

Hood stilled, mute, for several moments. Ms Sparks stopped typing, watching with pursed lips. ‘What?’ Hood said eventually.

‘The Subcontractor’s dead, sir.’

Muscles twitched in Hood’s cheeks. ‘How?’

‘There was a fight, apparently. In a hotel room. The two he was tracking.’

Hood’s teeth creaked together, audible across the large office. ‘Those two defeated the Subcontractor?’

‘Yes, sir. Quite a battle it was too. The Subcontractor dropped his disguise and everything.’

Hood’s eyebrows shot up. ‘How much of it can you actually see? How much detail does that creature give you?’

‘Images and sensations, sir. Not really clear pictures.’

‘Do you have any idea what the Subcontractor was?’

‘No, sir. Not like anything I’ve ever felt before.’

Hood stood, his chair flying back to crash into the wall behind him. He stalked out from behind his desk, paced across the office.

Sparks closed the laptop, rested her hands on it. She watched thoughtfully, keeping silent. Jackson scuffed at the expensive Persian carpet with one scruffy boot toe.

‘The human still has the items presumably?’ Hood asked.

‘Yes, sir. He was quite overwhelming for my little beauty here. He burns so brightly. She fears him.’

‘For those two to defeat the Subcontractor … Oh, I really want whatever it is he has now. I want it so badly. Can your bird still track them?’

‘I should imagine so, sir. If they haven’t gone too far yet.’

Hood spun to face him. ‘What? Well, send it now, you imbecile! Don’t lose them!’

Jackson shuddered, turning to face the thing on his shoulder. He muttered and whispered to it, stroking its head. The bird leapt up, beat its wings once, and vanished with a bright flash. A metallic scent hung in the air. ‘She’ll find ’em, sir. And keep an eye on ’em.’

‘Good. You’d better pray she does. We need to send someone else after them. Someone stronger than the Subcontractor.’

Jackson and Sparks held their tongues, both knowing Hood well enough not to risk his wrath by speaking. ‘But who is stronger than the Subcontractor? That freak, whatever he was, has never failed me before. Bah! All his secrets have died with him.’

He turned and strode to the window, standing beside Sparks, paying her no attention at all. He stared out across London’s Docklands, his hands gently massaging each other. ‘But he failed
this
time,’ he said, addressing no one in particular. ‘Whatever that boy has it must be incredible. I want it, whatever the cost.’

‘Are you sure?’ Sparks asked, immediately regretting it.

‘What?’

She plunged on. ‘Whatever the cost? If they beat the Subcontractor, the price might be high indeed.’

Hood slapped her hard across the cheek, knocking her to the floor, laptop spinning across the rug. He walked back to his desk, slumping into his chair as she struggled back to her feet, wiping blood-spattered lips with the back of one hand.

‘I need powerful allies here,’ Hood said, his fingers drumming on the dark mahogany. ‘I need something stronger than the Subcontractor.’
Tap-tap-tap-tap.
‘But what
is
there?’
Tap-tap-tap-tap.
‘Maybe not just one ally. Perhaps many.’
Tap-tap-tap-tap.
A smile spread across his face. He turned to his computer, typing rapidly. ‘Perhaps I need the Dark Sisters.’ His eyes scanned. With a noise of satisfaction he stood and strode to a sealed bookcase, heavy glass locked before dark wood and leather spines. Pulling a key from inside his suit jacket, he unlocked the doors, fingertip tracing the ancient grimoires.

Sparks watched in trepidation, standing still, hoping not to be noticed again. These were the ones he would never sell. Too dangerous, he said. The kind of thing that people might one day use against him. Her lip throbbed and a deep part of her wished someone
would
turn against him.

‘Yes,’ Hood said, mostly to himself. ‘Here we are. Yes, perhaps that’s the answer.’ He pulled a large volume from the shelf. ‘Their price is very high. But worth it!’

He rounded on Sparks as he passed her. She flinched. He grabbed her chin, tipping her face up to meet his violent kiss. She melted, kissing him back with passion. Jackson seemed interested only in the floor.