Mammon (6 page)

Halphas watched the young girl appear in another window. He wondered how her tender skin would react to the attentions of a sharp blade.

Mammon's gaze never left Joe.

Andromalius opened his eyes. ‘The father's trying to reach someone on the phone.' He threw a concerned glance at Mammon. ‘I can't tell who. Could be trouble. We might get some unwanted company.' He paused slightly. ‘Shouldn't we get moving?' He threw a careless glance towards the homeowner, sprawled in the hallway. ‘This one might wake up and become a nuisance.'

Mammon shook his head. ‘Then we put him to sleep again. And we don't need to worry about whoever the father is calling.' He gave Halphas a hard look. ‘Do we?'

The old servant shook his head. ‘No, Master. They're just an ordinary family.'

Zagan folded his arms and leaned against the wall. ‘Why don't we just kill the family and force Joe to come with us?'

Mammon gave him a scathing stare. ‘A Ferryman won't be taken like that, you fool. I didn't get this far in life by being rash and impulsive. We're going to lure Joe in, carefully.' He pinched his thumb and forefinger together. ‘Today, we plant a seed of desire in him.' He nodded with a confident smile. ‘He'll come to us – sooner, rather than later.'

Footsteps pounded up the stairs. A tall, very thin man with a dark beard entered the room. He wore a red-checkered shirt and black leather jacket, emblazoned with a logo for the Northern Raiders motorcycle club.

Haures screwed up her nose at the man's tangy scent.

‘You're late,' said Andras, without looking at the newcomer.

The biker shoved his hands in his pockets and gave Andras a shrug. ‘I had to head into the City first. Mike needed me to do a job there.'

Slowly, Andras turned and gave the man a dark stare. ‘From now on, you follow our orders first.'

‘Keys, please.' Haures thrust out her palm.

The biker stared, jaw open. Such hair . . . it floated around her face like waves of fire. And those lips . . . fighting against the temptation to lean over and kiss her, he handed Haures a set of keys. ‘All yours, pretty lady.'

She threw Andromalius a smile before disappearing out the door.

The biker turned back to Andras. ‘Shouldn't she be wearing leathers?'

The young demon stared out into the street. ‘That won't be necessary.'

* * *

GRACE SIGHED AND
made for her bedroom door. Moving into the hallway, she glimpsed her father sitting on his bed, phone in hand.

‘Are you okay, Dad?'

He smiled. ‘Yes, honey.'

‘Where's Mum?'

‘Taking a shower. She's made you a cup of tea.'

‘Okay.' She jumped in fright as a clap of thunder shook the walls. A heavy lashing of sound above told her the rain had begun in earnest. Soon it would flood the back garden and flush pools of fresh water over the pavers.

Usually, she liked the rain.

But today, it meant sitting inside for cups of tea and talking. Making plans, mostly. Before all this weirdness started, she would have looked forward to a Saturday afternoon with Dad and Mum: watching movies, eating fish and chips, snuggling up in a blanket against a sudden cold snap. But today felt laced with a sense of uncertainty, as if tomorrow would bring great change.

What would that change be?

* * *

JOE SQUINTED, LIFTING
his hand to shield against the fierce glare from the road. Something had happened. A telltale thud; the sound of an engine idling in mid air. It could only be one thing. He walked towards the glare. A shape came into view: a rider, lying on the tarmac. Joe shook his head.
The wet must've gotten to this poor bastard.
He kneeled over the rider, pulled the viser up. ‘You okay, dude?'

He caught his breath as a pair of deep green eyes gazed up at him. Velvet skin and rich, moist lips. Strands of brilliant red hair poking through the side of her helmet.

‘Whoa.' Joe gulped. ‘Sorry. I thought you were a guy.' He glanced back at her right leg, bent at a painful angle. ‘I'm gonna help you to the kerb, okay?'

She nodded. ‘Thank you.' Her voice was a warm, husky whisper. He ached to hear more.
‘What's your name?' He slid his hands under the woman's shoulders and began to drag her to the kerb.

* * *

GRACE MADE HER
way across the living room and pressed herself against the window, wiping away the fog, straining to make out the movement in the distance. At the sound of squealing tyres she'd almost tripped down the last two steps in her rush. Now she saw the source: a rider, lying on the far verge; Joe bent over her. A downed motorbike.

To the right, the hill's abrupt descent and treacherous curves had caught speeding drivers before. It was easy to see what had happened.

* * *

THE RIDER LOOKED
up at Joe with a grateful smile. ‘My name is Serena.'

She was beautiful. Joe smiled. ‘Well, Serena, you'll need to see a doctor. Your leg . . .'

‘Can you take me?'

‘I can come with you in the ambulance.' His eyes focused on those delectable lips.

She gasped. ‘No!'

‘What's wrong?'

She blushed. ‘It sounds silly, but . . .'

‘Tell me,' Joe whispered, stroking her hand.

‘I don't like paramedics or ambulances. My sister was killed in a car accident, and –'

Joe squeezed her palm. ‘Okay. Don't worry. I'll take you.' He stood up and turned towards the road to pick up her bike.

In the distance, Mammon stroked his chin. ‘She's doing very well.'

Andras nodded. ‘She just has to get him away from here, and we'll be on our way, Master.'

* * *

AT HOME, GRACE
watched Joe help the rider to the kerb.

Her father appeared at her shoulder, phone still in hand. He peered out the window. ‘What's going on?' His jaw dropped. ‘That's not
Joe
out there, is it?'

‘Yeah,' Grace said.

‘Damn it!' Dad lunged past and pushed the wire door open. ‘I told him!'

A low, rumbling roar approached, accompanied by twin beams of light. The truck bore heavily down the hill, gathering speed as it descended. The driver, whose head had lolled more than once on this journey, rubbed his eyes and yawned. Not too far now
.

Grace pushed through the door and stood next to her father. ‘What's wrong, Dad?'

‘Joseph!' Dad roared, waving his arm. ‘Get over here, now!' Cursing, he headed towards the kerb, shooting tense looks around the neighbourhood.

Joe squinted at his father. ‘What?' His voice barely carried in the intensifying downpour. A fresh boom of thunder sounded. Something moved in the corner of his eyes; glancing sideways, he saw the truck bearing down on him. His feet felt glued to the ground.

‘Joe!' Grace's heartbeat tore through her chest as she watched the truck rush towards him. She broke into a run – but tripped as her foot slid into a deep, uneven dip in the grass. She shrieked as pain exploded in her ankle.

Through droopy eyelids the truck driver peered at the boy on the road. Recognition came too late. ‘Oh, no!'

Clouds of grey smoke plumed as brakes locked, the trailer swinging sideways. All Joe could see was a black sheet of metal coming at him, the jackknifing trailer spanning the entire width of road. Even if he moved now . . .

Mammon took a step forward and raised his arm.

Joe watched, stunned as the truck slowed . . . like a giant, shadowy hand had slammed against it; shockwaves rippled through the trailer – folding steel as easily as a paper fan. He ducked but twisted his neck to stare up into the underbelly of the trailer as it spun and soared; a terrified, sweaty face stared down at him from the cabin. Then the whole rig tumbled to the ground, smashing into shards of metal and glass that spilled across the road.

‘WELL DONE, MASTER
,' said Andras.

Sparks of residual energy filled the room as Mammon lowered his arm and watched the boy stumbling around on the road, his face white with shock. He could taste it now – the nearness of the boy, this new Ferryman. ‘You were too slow there, Zagan.'

The young demon swallowed hard. ‘I'm sorry, Master.'

Joe stood up slowly, the tremble in his fingers too strong to even grasp the handlebars of Serena's bike. He could only stare at the destroyed truck, watch the neighbours emerge in a flurry of voices. And Serena – where had she gone?

He turned to see his father's grim face. Silently, Dad seized Joe's arm and hurried the staggering boy across the road. He shoved Joe towards the door. ‘Inside! Now!' He waited until Joe was safely inside and then looked down at his daughter. ‘Get up, Grace.'

‘I've sprained my ankle.' She was rocking back and forth, holding her foot.

Dad reached down and slid his hands under Grace's armpits, lifting her.

Blinking back tears, Grace let Dad guide her through the front door, where Mum stood wrapped in a robe, the blood drained from her face. She had Joe in a tight hug. Joe drew away and turned to look at his father.

Dad reached out and grabbed Joe, pulling him into a swift, crushing embrace and then held him at arm's length. ‘What did I tell you about going outside, son?' His eyes were harsh.

‘But there was an accident . . .'

‘I don't care! You don't leave the property!'
Dad shook Joe. ‘Out there – on the road – you weren't protected. Anyone could've got you.'

Joe gasped, wrenching himself away. ‘But no-one did.'

Dad shook his head. With a hiss, he jerked forward, pulling Joe to the window. ‘You don't get it. The EMF only runs so far.' Deep below, a series of electromagnetic cables formed a protective barrier around the house. ‘I told you this last night.'

Joe stared out at the yard. ‘I didn't think, Dad.'

‘No, you didn't.'

Grace felt herself sway. The shock – the near miss with the truck and the pain in her ankle was overwhelming. ‘Mum,' she whimpered.

Her mother glanced down at the injured ankle, then she turned and headed into the kitchen.

Joe stood at the window, arms folded. ‘I don't even know if the driver is alive.' He watched the crowd gather, tried to ignore the creeping chill that was clinging to the back of his neck; the cold sweat lining his back. What just happened? Against all laws of gravity . . . who or what could do that? He tensed his fingers, still trembling.

Dad picked up the phone and pressed it to his ear. He waited for a bit before throwing it down. ‘For God's sake, Diana! Where are you?'

He stalked into the kitchen. His wife, bent over a first-aid box, looked up with frightened eyes. She rose and reached out for him with a trembling whisper. ‘Danny.'

His eyes clouded over. ‘I don't want to face it, Suse. I can't.'

‘I'm scared for Joe.'

‘So am I.' He squeezed her shoulders, his breath coming in shudders.

She began shaking her head. ‘If anything happens to him . . .' Tears emerged. She blinked them away and glanced in the direction of her children.

‘Don't let them see you upset,' her husband said. ‘Come on. I'll pack, you stay here with the kids. I'll keep trying Diana. The sooner we get her, the sooner we'll know they're both safe.'

* * *

GRACE WATCHED ANXIOUSLY
as Mum swept back in with bandages and an icepack. Dad had walked past and given her a small smile. Mum pulled over a low stool, lifted Grace's leg and started to wrap the bandage around her daughter's ankle. Grace gazed at Mum's face; a safety pin was clenched in between her mother's teeth. ‘What's going on?'

Mum removed the pin from her mouth.‘We're going to fix your ankle.' She looked up at Joe. ‘Come away from the window now. It wasn't your fault, son.'

Joe grunted. ‘Tell that to the driver's family.' He turned around. ‘Come on, Mum. Something's going on here.'

Mum continued bandaging the ankle in silence. She peered at the ceiling. Upstairs, her husband was rummaging through wardrobes for suitcases. By this time tomorrow, they'd be in the south.

‘We're going away for a few days, kids,' Mum said suddenly.

Grace grimaced as Mum tightened the bandage. ‘Where are we going?'

‘To stay with your aunt. No, keep your ankle elevated. You'll feel better in a few hours.'

* * *

HAURES RACED UP
the stairs and into the bedroom. ‘What the hell went wrong? Damn it!'

She froze. At the window, the boss's shoulders were tense, his fists clenched. She backed away and sank onto the bed.

Mammon looked at Andras. ‘We need to act now.'

‘Yes, Master. I've got men ready to go.' Andras glanced at the biker. ‘You can leave.' He pulled his phone from his pocket.

‘Don't you care about your girl here? She busted her leg . . .' The biker did a double take as Haures stretched out both legs on the bed. He scratched his head, eyes drifting to Andras. ‘Look, uh . . . I don't know what game you people are playing here, but I want compensation for my bike.' He pressed his lips together and squared his shoulders.

Andras shook his head. ‘Get out.' He flicked through his contacts, searching for a number.

‘No dice. I let your bitch crash my Harley. Now pay me.'

Haures stood up, scowling. ‘Did this maggot just say what I think he did?' She then threw Andromalius an incredulous grin.

The biker turned to the quiet man standing near the window. Surely he'd be reasonable? But, to be sure, he walked over to the man and poked him in the chest. ‘I want my bike replaced, and payment . . .'

Mammon lifted the man into the air; squeezing iron fingers against his throat. A satisfying crack sounded as the spinal cord ruptured.

With a grunt, Mammon kicked the body into the hallway.

Haures gave him a grateful smile. ‘Thank you, Master.'

Andras pressed the phone to his ear, his eyes pinned on the boss's stony face. ‘What about the family?'

Mammon folded his arms and stared at the house. ‘We need to take everything away from the boy. Kill the parents and the sister. And then I will become Joe's rock.'

* * *

GRACE WATCHED JOE
pace back and forth in front of the window. ‘Sit down, Joe!'

Joe spun around, his face grey. ‘The driver's dead. I saw the ambulance take him away.'

Mum swooped in, pulling him into a hug. ‘It's not your fault. It was an accident.'

‘I feel sick.' Joe stepped away and gazed out of the window.

Grace craned her neck to look. The scene was eerily calm and clear; all wreckage tidied up. Dusk had long fallen, brown and murky compared to the pinky haze of last night. The sound of the doorbell echoed in her memory; visitors ranging from concerned neighbours to a policeman seeking information – Mum had turned them all away with a firm tone. ‘Joe can provide a statement tomorrow.'

Of course, by then he'd be safely tucked away in his new home.

Dad came thudding down the stairs, dragging three suitcases behind him. Propping them against the wall, he nodded at Mum. ‘That's everything we'll need for now. Diana will be here in an hour.'

Mum took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes. ‘Thank heavens. Now we just have to wait.'

Joe looked at her. ‘Can't we just drive ourselves?'

‘No. It's not safe.' Dad walked back to the dining room table and opened a small wooden chest. Slowly, he drew out two strange-looking guns. Mum got up and walked over to him, lifted one of the guns and examined it. She and Dad exchanged mutters.

Grace tried to sit up. ‘What are those for?'

Joe crossed the room to stand next to his father. ‘It's a taser,' he said.

‘That's right, son.'

Mum turned around, gun in hand. ‘They're special weapons, Grace. For demons.'

‘You think we'll need them?' Grace laughed as a stab of hysteria took hold. The absurdity of it all. Plus the fact that she was virtually a cripple. How could she hope to do anything? ‘What can we do to defend ourselves? Just sit here?'

Mum put down the gun and sat next to Grace. ‘You won't.' She reached back and unclasped her necklace. ‘It's time for you to have this.' She dropped her pendant into Grace's hand: a sliver of amber wood lined in gold.

‘Grandma gave you this.'

‘No, she didn't.' Mum drew the pendant and put it around Grace's neck. ‘All
sarsareh
wear one of these. It's very special; so look after it.'

Grace's fingers tingled when she touched the pendant. What effect would it have on a demon? Hopefully she wouldn't have to find out.

‘Here, son,' said Dad. ‘You get one too.'

Joe reached under his t-shirt and pulled out his Celtic cross. ‘I don't need another chain, Dad. I've got this one.'

His father nodded before leaning forward to string a pendant around Joe's neck.

Grace looked at her father. ‘Will these protect us?'

‘No, honey. It's not like that. The pendants are more symbolic than anything.'

‘Oh.' A new wave of fear hit at his words.

‘Don't worry, Grace. We're protected here. No demon can get across our EMF line.' Dad took a deep breath and smiled. ‘All we have to do now is wait for Diana and her team.' He took Mum's hand and squeezed it.

Grace and Joe waited; speechless, nervous. Dad guarded the window; Mum checked her watch every few minutes. ‘Oh, Diana – please hurry,' she whispered.

But then, with a soft click, the power went out, and the house fell into silent, vulnerable darkness.