Mammon (21 page)

They stopped outside Sarah's room.

Grace bit her lip. ‘Tell me what's happening!'

Sarah opened the door. With a mock frown, she waggled her finger. ‘Patience!' She slid her arm up the wall, flicked on the light and stepped inside. ‘Come in, but close your eyes.'

‘Oh, come on!'

‘Just close your eyes!'

Grace shut her eyes and sighed.

With a flourish, Sarah pushed opened the wardrobe door. ‘Ta da!'

Grace's eyes flew open. ‘What's that?'

‘For you.'

Grace grinned and ran her fingers along an emerald-green halter top, which shimmered in the light. Silky, smooth and cool to the touch. Behind it was a pair of dark denim jeans – a row of rhinestone studs lined the pockets. A pair of silver wedges were tucked next to Sarah's sneakers and boots.

‘And for the finishing touches . . .' Sarah held up a pair of diamante drop earrings. ‘They're mine, but you can borrow them for the night.'

‘They're gorgeous.' Grace took the jewels between her fingers. The light shimmered off the stones, revealing an intricate flower pattern. She lay them on the dressing table. ‘But where are we going?'

Sarah winked. ‘You'll see. Now let's get your hair and make-up done.' She bent down and slid a pink box out from beneath the dressing table.

‘My make-up case!' said Grace.

‘Yes,' Sarah admitted with a guilty smile. ‘I had Joe go and get it for me. He was reluctant, but . . .' She sighed. ‘He did it for you.'

Grace turned towards the door, finger raised. ‘Well, he forgot the most important thing – my straightener.'

‘No, don't iron your hair. It looks nice with the curls.'

Grace threw Sarah a sour look. ‘No it doesn't.'

Sarah picked up a hairbrush. ‘Yes, it does! And I'm not the only one who thinks so. Now, let's get started.'

THIRTY MINUTES LATER
, Grace followed Sarah out into the courtyard, where the evening gloom had settled into a silvery fog. ‘Where are we going?'

‘For a little walk.'

‘It's so cold!'

Sarah gestured to the forest. ‘Not for long. Come on.'

Grace followed Sarah along the misty path. ‘Ooh!' A droplet spilled from a low branch on to her shoulder, leaving a cool trail down her back.

‘Careful here. It's muddy.'

Grace rubbed her upper arms. Goosebumps had spread across the flesh, making her shiver. ‘Seriously, where are we going, Sarah? We're nearly at the oval!'

‘Stop here. Close your eyes.'

‘Not again! Sarah –'

‘Close them.' Grinning, Sarah pressed her hands over her friend's eyelids. She led her friend through a fringe of trees. Grace felt a surge of heat and –

‘Open your eyes!'

The light hit Grace's face first, a blend of hot reds, yellows and purple. In the middle of the oval, a lively bonfire was sending small sparks into the air.

‘Happy birthday!'

A crowd of happy faces greeted her. Everyone waved sparklers in the air, making patterns against the black night like golden snakes, whirling and circling.

Joe gave her a kiss. ‘Didn't think we'd forget, did you, sis? Shame on you.'

Grace stared at Joe's face. His hair was dishevelled, his eyes seemed wild. ‘You okay?'

‘Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?' He walked away – an overconfident swagger that irritated her.

Seth leaned down and kissed Grace's cheek. ‘Many happy returns.' He pressed a small felt bag into her hand. ‘I could have given you something to represent my mother's side of the family, but then I imagine you would get lots of Western-style presents.' He grinned. ‘This is a traditional gift from my father's side instead.'

‘Thank you!' She fished into the bag and drew out a pair of gold earrings shaped like two golden tubes with a dark sphere at the bottom of each.

‘Oh. They're lovely! So unusual.'

‘From Nigeria,' Seth said.

‘Thanks, Seth.' She gave him a hug and watched him walk away, merging into the crowd of strangers who were celebrating her coming of age. She had no idea about Seth's background. In fact, Grace barely knew anyone here, except Ivan and Sarah.

‘My lovely niece.' Diana clasped Grace's shoulders. ‘Happy birthday, sweetheart. Your mum and dad would've been so proud of you.'

‘Thanks.'

‘We old fogies are going to leave you alone. Behave, now.'

The music grew louder, filling the air with a primal drumbeat. Grace savoured the bonfire's warmth on her bare arms.

Then, there he was. Moving towards her with that strong, confident walk. Looking amazing in a deep blue t-shirt and black pants – the first time she'd seen him in civilian clothes.

Ivan's eyes locked on hers; she felt paralysed, unable to look anywhere else. Her heart began to beat harder as he stopped in front of her. His gaze flickered all over her body; she couldn't mistake the gleam in his eyes.

He shook his head. ‘You look very beautiful.' He reached into his pocket, drawing out a small velvet box. ‘Happy birthday.'

She lifted the lid. Tucked among small frills of red satin was a gold ring. Its top was flat and round – with a pale blue stone in its centre.

‘Oh, wow.'

‘It's a moonstone.'

Grace stared at the ring. It caught the firelight, revealing flecks of white throughout the stone. He touched the ring to her fingertip and held it there. With a smooth movement, he slid the ring onto her right ring finger. His gaze swept over her face and dropped to her neckline before flickering back up to meet her eyes.

She shook her head. ‘I can't believe you would give me this.'

His eyes dug into her, searching. ‘Why?'

She could only smile.

Ivan reached down and took her hand, leading her towards the bonfire. The beat slowed down as a love song started. He slid his hands around her waist, and she responded by looping hers around his neck.

She gasped as he lifted her off her feet so that she was looking down at him. Gently, he whirled her around until they'd turned full circle. She caught her breath, stunned. He lowered her, touching her body against his as her feet touched the ground.

‘I didn't expect that.' She giggled as he lifted her again.

He looked up, holding her in the air.

‘You're really strong,' she whispered.

Ivan just smiled, spun her around again, then lowered her so her feet were on top of his. His mouth enticed her, just within reach of her own lips. He pulled her to him and moved her slowly, swaying to the rhythm.

He rested his head against hers. Her heart pounded at the feel of his hands pressing her close against his chest.

* * *

IN THE KITCHEN
, Maya grabbed a bottle and poured another messy glass. She closed her eyes and swallowed the shot, then she slammed the glass onto the benchtop. Her chest ached with grief at a sudden memory that forced itself into her consciousness like an unwelcome guest. Their last anniversary, when they'd spent the night drinking, dancing, holding each other.

There would be no more dancing. Her future had been stolen; she faced a life without the husband Armin would have been or the children they would have shared. In her watery vision she could make out the candle-like glow of the bonfire – its fiery peaks glowing over the treetops. ‘To hell with this,' she whispered. She slid off the bar stool and stumbled out of the rec room.

* * *

GRACE SLID HER
fingers to the nape of Ivan's neck, the rough edge of his hairline. The silken fabric of her top clung to her skin, warmed by his hands. She looked up; he returned the stare, running his gaze over the flush in her cheeks, her eyes twinkling in the golden light.

He cupped her face in his hands. This was it. He was finally going to kiss her.

But she gasped. Something was wrong. She saw a vivid picture of Joe's face, his eyes blazing with anger.

Ivan pulled back. ‘What's the matter?'

Grace threw erratic glances around the crowd. ‘Where's Joe?'

‘What is it?' Ivan took her shoulders. ‘Look at me, Grace.'

‘Something's going to happen!'

‘What?'

‘I don't
know
what! Just something to do with Joe!'

Ivan took her hand and led her through the crowd. ‘Come on. We'll find him.'

* * *

MALCOLM WAS HOVERING
at the edge of the crowd, watching with a tight jaw and sullen eyes when Maya stalked past. ‘Hey!' He grabbed her arm.

Grimacing, she jerked away from him. ‘Leave me alone, Malcolm.'

‘You nearly fell over then.'

‘I said, leave me alone!'

The song ended, in the sudden quiet all ears turned to the drunken girl. Maya stood, her back stiff, her eyes fiery. ‘Why do you bother me so much, Malcolm?'

He sighed. ‘Why do you think?'

Her head wobbled back and forth – finally her eyes glinted with understanding. ‘You?' She made a humphing sound. ‘You can't love
me
!' She raised her finger and jabbed it into his chest. ‘You're
nothing
compared to Armin!'

‘Maya, Armin's gone.'

She gasped. ‘Don't you say that!' She ripped her hands free and smacked his face. Malcolm staggered back, his eyes wide, shocked at the sudden sting on his cheek.

Maya gave him a cruel grin. ‘Get lost, loser.'

‘You hurtful bitch!' Malcolm grabbed the girl by the collar and dragged her back to him. He whirled her around and landed a sharp slap across her cheek. She fell to her knees, whimpering.

‘Oh, God! Maya, I'm so sorry!' Malcolm reached down to help her up. Another hand clamped down on his forearm. He looked up; Joe glared at him, a red, violent glow in his eyes. ‘Leave her alone, Penbury.'

‘Shut the hell up, Joe.' Malcolm straightened his back and scowled at Joe. ‘You've got some cheek stepping in here. You weren't there to help Armin. It's your fault he's dead.'

‘Bullshit.'

Sarah dropped to her knees and put her arm around the sobbing Maya. She shook her head. ‘That's not fair, Malcolm.'

‘No-one asked you, Sarah.' Malcolm curled his fingers into fists.

Joe shook his head. ‘Don't even try it, arsehole.'

Grace appeared at Joe's side. She touched his arm – his eyes were blisteringly red. He didn't acknowledge her but just stared at Malcolm; a murderous gaze.

‘What's going on here?' Ivan said. He took a look at Maya and then nodded to a group of recruits. ‘Johnson, Anderson – take Maya to her room.'

Grace peered into Joe's eyes. ‘You okay?'

With a regretful frown, Malcolm watched the recruits lead Maya towards the Residence. He turned and pressed his finger into Joe's chest. ‘It's about time you and I had it out.'

Ivan stepped between them. ‘Penbury, go to your room, now.'

Malcolm smirked. ‘You can't make me leave. Anyway, Ivan, why don't you tell Grace the truth?' He smiled at Grace's confused expression. ‘Aw, it's tragic. Ivan's job is to keep you happy, so you don't cause any problems with their precious Ferryman. After all, Joe's the one they want. He's the one with the special power. They don't give a hoot about you, and neither does Ivan.'

Grace looked at Ivan. ‘Is that true?' Her voice trembled.

‘Of course not.' Ivan gave Malcolm a warning glare. ‘He's just had too much to drink.'

‘Not a drop, actually.'

Grace bit her nail as the nagging doubt developed, bringing a sick feeling to her stomach.

‘You're just pissed off with the world, Penbury,' said Joe. ‘What's the matter? Can't win Daddy's approval?'

Malcolm lunged forward and punched Joe in the face. Joe staggered back but recovered.

Ivan stepped between them. ‘Enough!'

Joe dodged around Ivan. He seized Malcolm by the sleeves and smashed him with a headbutt.

Malcolm fell on his backside, his hands pressed against his forehead. His vision was dizzy, but he could still see Callahan's eye and the sliver of blood oozing from the rapidly forming bruise. ‘Whatever problems I've got with my dad, at least I can be proud of him. Unlike you.'

Joe blinked. ‘What the hell did you say?'

Malcolm looked up with a fierce grin. ‘I know all about your father. Everyone knows. Daniel Callahan was a coward who ran away from his responsibilities.'

Instantly, a swirling rift materialised. This wasn't like the cloudy sphere Joe usually opened. This was an angry rift, borne of his fury and his sheer will to punish. Screeching and roaring, with angry clouds and erratic streaks of lightning flashing out from the core.

Ivan shot his arm out to protect Grace.

She lunged forward, struggling against his grip. ‘What are you doing, Joe?'

In unison, the crowd surged back; all eyes locked on the rift and its magnetic pull, against which Malcolm was struggling. He was too close. Petrified, he watched as his pendant disappeared inside the cloud. He could feel his hair standing on end, his clothes beginning to tear away from his body.

Joe grabbed a tuft of Malcolm's hair and dragged him forward.

‘Don't!' Grace screamed.

Malcolm went head-first into the rift. He struggled, digging his heels into the cold earth. His howls sent a chill up Grace's spine. The crowd watched in silent horror as his arms and legs twitched, as though an electric current was surging through him.

Inside the rift, Malcolm thought he saw something coming at him. He blinked – in the height of his panic, Malcolm's inner voice spoke: it's just a trick of the eyes.

But the lightning exploded again, and he saw dark shapes flying towards him.

They were Shadows. Racing for the rift opening. Racing to get out.

The first of them drew close and pressed an icy finger to Malcolm's forehead. The finger slid up and over the crown of his head, leaving a cold trail across his flesh. The finger began to burrow at the back of his skull. Frozen, Malcolm felt a dark energy start to push into him the way a sperm forces itself into an egg – taking his body, possessing him.

He screamed.

Ivan ran forward and grabbed Joe's arms. He yanked him backwards with an almighty wrench, also pulling Malcolm away in the process.

The rift dissolved into wispy ribbons of grey. After the monstrous noise, the air was ghostly quiet – except for Joe's deep breathing.

And Malcolm's twisted moans. He pulled his legs close to his chest. Tears gushed down his face as he began to rock backward and forward. ‘A Shadow . . . grabbing at me . . . trying to take me over.' His eyes began a wild dance, to and fro. ‘It was going to possess me.'