Mammon (15 page)

He leaned back in his chair, eyes scanning the ceiling. ‘Kit him up with everything he needs. Give him a greater level of responsibility within the squad. Train him up quickly, get him on his first mission within the month. By the time he's felt the adrenaline rush, he won't want to go anywhere else.'

Lucius paused. ‘That sounds a bit soon. We don't want anyone getting hurt.'

‘If Ivan is as wonderful as you say he is, nobody should. Don't risk Joe on the tougher jobs – leave them to our top guys.'

Lucius folded his arms. ‘You've got all of the top guys. Think you can release them so they can do some real work?'

Marcus ignored the comment. ‘Send Joe out to clean up the suburbs. You know, small-time work. Exciting enough to a newcomer who doesn't know the difference.'

‘So, they're to be rewarded, rather than punished,' Agatha said. ‘Diana won't like it. Nor will his teammates.'

‘You leave Diana to me. And his teammates will obey my wishes, or suffer the consequences.'

Lucius peered over his glasses. ‘Even your own son?'

‘Malcolm knows his place.'

‘Does he?'

‘Look! Joe's the prime concern here. Grace simply has to be kept compliant – and fully supportive of our actions concerning her brother. We want him to put Renfield on the map, don't we?'

With a tired sigh, Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Grace could be very useful to us as well. Don't write her off; she's very gifted.'

Marcus shrugged. ‘As long as she's compliant, I don't care.'

Lucius crossed his arms. ‘Grace won't be a problem. Ivan seems to be winning her over. As long as that remains the case, we can focus on Joe.'

SHE WOKE.

Her sleep-crusted eyelids peeled apart lash by lash. Her tongue felt glued to the roof of her mouth.

Focus returned to her eyes. The clock read twelve-thirty.Gradually, her other senses kicked in and she registered that someone else was in the room.

She jumped with the fright – but settled when she saw Diana sitting at the end of her bed. ‘Ugh.' Grace peered at her aunt through one eye. ‘If you've come to tell me off about the drinking, there's no need. I'm never doing it again.' She buried her face into the pillow. ‘Oh, my head . . .'

Diana shrugged. ‘Maybe you will, maybe you won't.'

Grace peeked out. ‘Aren't you mad at me?'

‘Not now. Last night: yes. But I blame your brother more.'

‘Why? He didn't force the alcohol down my throat.' Her eyes searched the bedside table for water. Some kind of liquid . . . anything!

‘We've decided to fast-track your training. You and Joe will have specialised tuition with Ivan with a view to taking on a squad position within a month.'

‘What?' No word of punishment?

‘Get a proper sleep tonight. Tomorrow morning, meet Ivan at the gym. I believe you and he agreed on a time.'

* * *

HALF-PAST SIX THE
next morning Grace entered the double doors of the Renfield gymnasium. It was an airy space, with open beams stretching across a low ceiling, an array of weightlifting equipment on the left-hand wall, and directly ahead – a climbing wall. Grace felt a surge of embarrassment, remembering her first attempt to climb. Joe was leaning against the wall, arms folded; Ivan standing opposite. She paused, watching Joe.

‘Hello.' She slipped her hoodie off and hung it on a large silver hook.

Ivan nodded. ‘Morning, Grace.'

She found her eyes wandering . . . down – along the muscle that rippled down his upper arms. Coughing, she looked up – and into those eyes.

Ivan walked across to the middle of the room and pointed at a blue gym mat. ‘Sit down, both of you.'

Grace planted herself in the middle of the mat; Joe sat on the edge with his elbows on his knees.

Ivan lowered into a crouch and looked at them both. ‘We've decided that you both need some physical training.'

Grace blinked. ‘I don't. I'm a telepath. And Joe's . . .'

Ivan raised a finger. ‘So, if an enemy resists your power and threatens to overcome you physically, what do you do?'

Joe shrugged. ‘Open a bigger rift.'

‘And you, Grace? What would you do?'

‘Shoot them?' Grace chuckled. She caught his serious gaze and stopped laughing. ‘Well, I'd have a gun, wouldn't I?'

‘And if your opponent was a stronger telepath than you and was able to steal your gun away? What then?'

She fell silent.

‘Up you get,' said Ivan.

Sighing, she stood. Joe slid away a few feet so he was resting his back against the wall; an amused glimmer in his eye.

‘Sometimes we must fight hand to hand,' said Ivan. ‘You must be able to defend yourself using physical means.'

‘I could use telepathy . . .'

‘Mmm.' Ivan watched her closely. ‘From your half-hour lesson with Sarah? You're a beginner, Grace.'

Grace narrowed her eyes. ‘I can hurt you.' She pointed to her forehead. ‘In here.'

‘Okay,' Ivan said, smiling. ‘Do your worst. Attack me.' He pressed his forefinger against her head. ‘In here.'

She grimaced; his voice was falsely high, an obvious attempt to mimic her. Anger simmered in her gut. She watched him watching her, calm expectation on his face. Fine. He asked for it.
She focused on his forehead . . . and white-hot pain.

Ivan's face twitched – but then he grabbed her left shoulder and slid his foot behind her ankle. She gasped as he slammed her to the ground, the shock trapping her breath. But there was no pain, just a sense of being overpowered, no chance of escape – his hold on her unbreakable, uncompromising.

He locked his ankles around hers and held his hand against her throat. ‘You're dead.'

He rolled away and sprang to his feet.

She dragged herself up, her breaths coming in hollow gasps. ‘You knocked the wind . . . out of me.'

‘I'm not a demon. I'm just a human being. But I can overcome your telepathic attack with this simple move.'

‘Okay, you're not a demon, but you're probably better than any of their bodyguards.'

Ivan shot her a dark look. ‘How do you know that? There you go again, making dangerous assumptions.' He folded his arms. ‘A lot of private security are former special forces from Russia.'

‘What . . . working for demons?'

He sighed. ‘Grace, the bodyguards don't know their bosses are demons. As far as they're concerned, it's just a bigger pay cheque.' He nodded. ‘Again. But this time, I want you to sidestep me as I come forward.' He moved sideways to demonstrate. ‘See?'

She nodded; Ivan lunged at her. She slid on her heel and moved sideways, dodging his attack.

‘Good. Now, lift your arms as so and block me. Then lunge forward like this.' His hands cut through the air in a simulated slice through her shoulder. ‘See?' He showed her again.

She threw a glance at Joe. ‘Are you going to make him do this too?'

‘Yes. Why? Do you want to see him get his arse kicked? Now, I'm going to come at you from different directions. I want you to practise the three simple moves I've taught you. Dodge, block and strike.'

He sprang at her again, slamming one hand against her collarbone. A sudden pressure against her back as he shoved her backwards. She tipped onto her heels and then crashed down to the mat. All the while, his arms were locked around her torso.

‘Ow.' The back of her head throbbed. She groaned as he pulled her to her feet. ‘Stop, now,' she moaned.

‘Again.'

Time and again he ran at her. Even when she came close, her flailing fingers couldn't touch him. Ivan was dodging around her like a boxer. For good measure he slapped her thigh, the cracking sound reverberating through the room.

She winced. ‘Hey! Don't do that!'

‘Why not? You left yourself open, Grace.'

The frustration built, presenting itself in the gradual tensing of her shoulders, the sick anger in her stomach and the burning in her eyes. She dodged him this time. Good. Then the lunge – her stomach rolled as he pulled her through the air. Once again she felt the familiar slam-down against the mat, her bones jarring from the impact. He locked his ankles around her calves, paused, and stared down at her. ‘Infuriating, isn't it?'

She regarded him through sweat-soaked strands of hair. ‘Yes.' Even through the misery and humiliation she couldn't help studying his face. That smooth skin, the small scar on his cheek. His eyes shone with a calm intelligence, but behind lay a savagery that would emerge when provoked. Tiny curves formed a smile at the edge of his lips.

‘Do you still think you can take me?'

‘No.' Burning with shame, she looked away.

His voice softened. ‘I'll teach you how to, Grace. You don't need to think that just because you are a woman, you cannot fight a man.' He rolled away. ‘Okay. You can take a break. You're up, Joe.'

Grace sat down and curled her legs up to her chest. Had he noticed her staring? Could he tell what she'd been thinking?

‘By the way, Grace – I did feel that.' Ivan pointed to his head. ‘You are gifted. But you need to realise that once an enemy knows your strengths, then that enemy can also resist your telepathy.'

She smiled.

‘Don't,' said Joe. ‘You'll give her a big head.'

‘What – are you jealous?' Grace gave him a critical once-over. ‘Don't annoy me, Joe. Or you'll be sorry.'

Joe smirked. ‘Whatever.'

Ivan turned to Joe. ‘All right then. Let's see what
you
can do. I want you to open a rift. As quickly as you can. And I want you to try to get me inside it.'

Joe grinned. ‘No problem.'

‘Grace, go to the other side of the room.'

With a sigh, she got to her feet. ‘Are you going to taser him?'

‘No,' said Ivan.

Joe shrugged. ‘It wouldn't matter if he did.'

Grace scowled. ‘Spoken like one who's never been shot.'

Ivan gave her a curious stare. ‘Why did you ask me that?'

‘That gun.' She pointed to his belt.

‘It's not a taser. But it's not lethal either.' He grinned, as though remembering a private joke.

Joe hesitated as he remembered the bony monster.
‘I'll go in right after you,' he said. ‘That way you won't get hurt.'

‘Whatever you think best.' Ivan folded his arms.

Joe didn't focus on any particular spot, but soon a dark, swirling sphere appeared around Ivan's feet. The pull was immediately obvious – even the chain around Ivan's neck was straining, pulling towards the ground.

Ivan jumped up and grabbed one of the exposed beams. Hanging by one arm, he reached around and drew the gun from behind his back.

Grace gasped.

Ivan fired.

Joe stumbled backwards.

In the time it took for Grace to breathe in and out, the rift vanished. Joe was bending over, hands pressed to his face.

Grace threw an angry look at Ivan, still hanging from the beam. ‘What have you done?' She grabbed Joe's shoulders and turned him around.

One furious blue eye glared at her through a smear of red paint. She knew he'd rather have been tasered than this.

She exploded into laughter. ‘You should see your face!'

Ivan jumped down, threw the paintball gun on a table and grabbed a towel. ‘Here.' He threw it to Joe and studied his face for a few seconds. ‘You're angry, aren't you?'

Joe clenched his teeth as he wiped the paint away.

‘You don't want to let that anger control you, Joe.'

‘You don't know what it's like.'

‘Oh, you think?' Ivan lifted his shirt and turned around slowly. A row of faded scars lay across his torso and back. ‘In Spetsnaz, part of the training is to see how much pain each recruit can take. Either you learn to control your emotional responses, or you're out. When I joined up I was dangerously angry. But I learned to manage that. I don't recommend their methods – but I want you to realise that I understand where you're coming from.'

He pulled his shirt down and thumped Joe on the back. ‘Don't feel ashamed. Either of you. This lesson will make you stronger. You must learn to control your emotions. Curb your arrogance. Remember: no matter how potent your gift is, you must be able to think calmly. You'll learn how to do this. Now, come with me.'

They approached a table wedged beneath one of the tall windows that lined the corridor. A group of mercenaries was clustered around it. To her discomfort, Grace noticed Maya sitting among them.

Maya looked up. ‘You!' Red, swollen eyes darted between Grace and Joe. ‘Who the hell do you think you are?' She stepped over the chair and lunged across.

Ivan took hold of her arms. ‘Steady, Maya.'

She looked up at him, pleading. ‘They ran off, like two stupid, selfish children! And now Armin is dead . . .'

‘It is not their fault,' said Ivan. He gave her a kind but firm stare. ‘They are not to blame.'

‘That is true.' Maya rubbed the tears away and lifted her chin. ‘
You
are.'

Malcolm stepped towards Maya. ‘Let her go, Ivan.'

‘Stand aside, Penbury.'

Trembling, Maya stared up at Ivan. ‘He was so eager to prove himself to you after you put him on night duty. He was too tired to handle this mission!'

‘It wasn't a matter of fatigue; the whole team was killed. Nobody is to blame but the bad guys.'

‘He only volunteered because he wanted you to respect him.' She gave him a scornful glare. ‘You! Like you matter that much!' She jerked forward and spat on his shirt.

Someone gasped, the air became even more charged with tension.

But Ivan didn't waver. His voice was calm, his eyes compassionate. ‘He always had my respect. And now it's greater than ever.'

‘At my expense.' Maya slumped. ‘Let me go.'

Malcolm released Maya, who turned and sat down at the table again. He stepped closer to Ivan. ‘Anyway, why aren't these two under suspension?'

Ivan stiffened at his tone. ‘It's not your concern, Penbury.'

‘Yes, it is my concern.' Malcolm pointed at Grace. ‘They snuck out of here to go God knows where; she used her mind powers to mess around with Brutus's head. Now we find out they're not being suspended!'

Ivan's voice was quiet but threatening. ‘You're forgetting your place.'

‘As your second-in-charge?' Malcolm threw up his hands. ‘Oh, but then again – that's not the case. No, I've been usurped by our Ferryman here.'