The Night's Dawn Trilogy (201 page)

“I think the campaign must be starting,” Louise said. Dear Jesus, they look so young. Just boys, my age. “They’re going to
lose, aren’t they? They’re all going to be possessed.”

“I expect so, my lady, yes.”

“I should have done something.” She wasn’t sure if she was speaking out loud or not. “Should have left Uncle Jules a letter.
Warned them. I could have given them that much of my time, enough to write a few simple lines.”

“There is no defence, dear lady.” “Joshua will protect us. He’ll believe me.”

“I liked Joshua,” Genevieve said.

Louise smiled, and ruffed her sister’s hair.

“If you had warned your family and the Prince’s court, and they believed you, I fear you would not have been able to buy your
passage on the
Far Realm
, lady.”

“Not that it’s done us much good, so far,” she said in exasperation. “We should have gone up to the
Far Realm
as soon as Furay finalized the contract.”

Genevieve gave her an anxious look. “We’ll get up there, Louise. You’ll see.”

“Not very easily. I can’t see the lieutenant allowing us on to the field on the strength of that contract, not when all the
troops are taking off. At the very least he’ll call Uncle Jules first. Then we’ll really be in trouble.”

“Why?” Genevieve asked.

Louise squeezed her sister’s hand. “I had a bit of a quarrel with Roberto.”

“Yuck! Mr Fatso. I didn’t like him.”

“Me neither.” She glanced out of the window again. “Fletcher, can you tell if Furay is out there?”

“I will try, Lady Louise.” He came over to stand beside her, putting both hands flat on the windowsill and bowing his head.
He shut his eyes.

Louise and Genevieve swapped a glance. “If we can’t get away into orbit, we’ll have to go out onto the moors and camp there,”
Louise said. “Find somewhere isolated, like Carmitha did.”

Genevieve put her arms around her big sister’s waist and hugged. “You’ll get us away, Louise. I know you will. You’re so clever.”

“Not really.” She hugged the girl back. “But at least I got us into some decent clothes.”

“Yes!” Genevieve smiled down approvingly at her jeans and sweatshirt, even though there was a horrid cartoon rabbit printed
on the chest.

Fletcher’s eyes flicked open. “He’s here, Lady Louise. Over yonder.” He pointed out of the window in the direction of the
central control tower.

Louise was fascinated by the wet palmprints he’d left on the sill. “Excellent. That’s a start. Now all we have to do is work
out how to get to the spaceplane.” Her hand tightened on the new Jovian Bank credit disk in her trouser pocket. “I’m sure
Mr Furay can be persuaded to take us up straightaway.”

“There are also several possessed within the aerodrome perimeter.” Fletcher gave a confused frown. “One of them is wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“Odd.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not quite sure, only that he is odd.”

Louise glanced down at Genevieve, whose face had paled at the mention of the possessed. “They won’t catch us, Gen. Promise.”

“As do I, little one.”

Genevieve nodded uncertainly, wanting to believe.

Louise looked from the girl to the soldiers marching about outside, and came to a decision. “Fletcher, can you fake one of
the army uniforms?” she asked. “An officer, not too highranking. A lieutenant or captain, perhaps?”

He smiled. “A prudent notion, my lady.” His grey suit shimmered, darkening to khaki, its surface roughening.

“The buttons are wrong,” Genevieve declared. “They should be bigger.”

“If you say so, little one.”

“That’ll do,” Louise said after a minute, anxious that the sergeant would return before they were done. “Half of these boys
have never seen uniforms before. They don’t know if it’s right or not. We’re wasting time.”

Genevieve and Fletcher pulled a face together at the reprimand. The girl giggled.

Louise opened the window and peered out. There was no one in the immediate vicinity. “Push the cases through first,” she said.

They walked over to the nearest hangar as quickly as they could; Louise immediately regretted bringing their bags and cases.
She and Fletcher were carrying two apiece, and they were heavy; even Genevieve had a big shoulder bag which she was wilting
under. Any attempt to be inconspicuous was doomed from the start. It was about two hundred yards to the hangar. When they
got there, the central control tower didn’t look any nearer. And Fletcher just said that Furay was “near there.” The pilot
could be well on the other side for all she knew.

The hangar was being used as a store depot by the army; long rows of wooden crates were lined up along the sides, arranged
so that narrow alleyways branched off at right angles leading right back to the walls. Five forklift trucks were parked at
the far end. There were no soldiers in sight. The doors at both ends were wide open, creating a gentle breeze along the main
aisle.

“See if there’s a farm ranger or something like it parked here,” Louise said. “If not, we’re going to have to dump the cases.”

“Why?” Genevieve asked.

“They’re too heavy, Gen, and we’re in a hurry. I’ll buy you some more, don’t worry.”

“Can you use such a contraption, my lady?” Fletcher asked.

“I’ve driven one before.” Up and down Cricklade’s drive. Once. With Daddy shouting instructions in my ear.

Louise let the bags fall to the floor and told Genevieve to wait by them.

“I will search around outside,” Fletcher said. “My appearance will cause little concern. May I suggest you stay in here.”

“Right. I’ll check down there.” She started walking towards the other end of the hangar. The ancient corrugated iron roof
panels were creaking softly as they shed the heat of Duke-day.

She was about thirty yards from the open sliding doors when she heard Fletcher calling out behind her. He was running down
the wide aisle formed by the crates, waving his arms urgently. Genevieve was chasing after him.

A jeep drove into the hangar. Two people were sitting in it. The one driving wore a soldier’s uniform. The second, sitting
in the back, was dressed all in black.

Louise turned to face them. I’ll brazen it out; after all, that’s what I’ve been doing all day.

Then she realized the man in black was a priest, she could see the dog collar. She breathed out a sigh of relief. He must
be an army padre.

The jeep braked to a halt beside her.

Louise smiled winningly, the smile which always made Daddy say yes. “I wonder if you could help us, I’m a little bit lost.”

“I doubt that, Louise,” Quinn Dexter said. “Not someone as resourceful as you.”

Louise started to run, but something cold and oily snaked around her ankles. She crashed down onto the timeworn concrete floor,
grazing her hands and wrists.

Quinn stepped down out of the jeep. The mockery of a cassock swirled around his feet. “Going somewhere?”

She ignored her stinging hands and numbed knee, lifting her head to see him standing above her. “Devil! What have you done
to Mummy?”

His dog collar turned a shiny scarlet, as though it were made from blood. “Such a fucking great hurry for knowledge. Well
don’t you worry, Louise, we’re going to show you exactly what happened to
Mummy
. I’m going to give you a personal demonstration.”

“Do not touch her, sir,” Fletcher called as he came to a halt by the front of the jeep. “The lady Louise is my ward, under
my protection.”

“Traitor,” Lawrence Dillon yelled. “You are one of the blessed ones. God’s Brother allowed you back into this world to fight
the legions of the false Lord. Now you defy the messiah chosen to lead the returned.”

Quinn clicked his fingers, and Lawrence fell silent. “I don’t know who you are, friend. But don’t fuck with me or you’ll die
to regret it.”

“I do not wish to draw swords with any man. So stand aside and we will go our separate ways.”

“Arsehole. I’m stronger than you by myself; and there’s two of us.”

Fletcher smiled thinly. “Then why do you not take what you desire by your might? Could it be I would struggle? And that would
draw the attention of the soldiers. Are you stronger than an entire army?”

“Don’t push it,” Quinn warned. “I’m off this shit tip planet today, and nobody’s gonna stop that. Now I know this bitch from
before, she’s smart. She’ll have a starship lined up to take her away, right?”

Louise glared up at him.

“Thought so,” Quinn sneered. “Well, lover, you’re gonna hand your tickets over to me. My need is one fuck of a lot greater
than yours.”

“Never!” She groaned as Lawrence Dillon grabbed her by the back of her neck and hauled her upright.

Fletcher made a start forwards, but stopped as Quinn pointed at Genevieve, who was cowering behind him.

“Dumb move,” Quinn said. “I’ll blow you back to the beyond if I have to. And then it’ll go real bad for your little pal. You
know I mean it. I won’t possess her. I’ll keep her for myself. Some nights I’ll hand her over to Lawrence; he knows some real
kinks now. I taught him myself.”

“Sure did.” Lawrence grinned wildly at Genevieve.

“You are inhuman.” Fletcher put an arm instinctively around Genevieve.

“Wrong!”
Quinn barked. His sudden fury made Fletcher take a half pace backwards.

“Banneth. Now she’s inhuman. She did things to me… ” Spittle appeared on Quinn’s chin. He giggled, and wiped it away on the
back of a trembling hand. “She did things, okay. And now. Now, I’m the one who’s gonna do things right back to her. Things
so sick she’s never thought of them. God’s Brother understands that, understands the need in me. I’m gonna let my serpent
beast devour her and then spew out the bits. I’ll turn my whole crusade on her if I have to. I’ll use biowar bugs, I’ll use
nukes, I’ll use antimatter. I don’t fucking care. I’m gonna crack Earth wide open. And I’m gonna go down there, and I’m gonna
take her. And nobody is going to stand in my way.”

“Right on!” Lawrence shouted.

Quinn was breathing heavily, as if there were insufficient oxygen in the hangar. The cassock had returned to his original
priest robe, tiny crackles of energy rippling along the voluminous fabric. Louise quailed before the expression on his face.
There wasn’t even any point in struggling. Quinn smiled at her, enraptured; two drops of blood dripped off his vampire fangs,
running down his chin.

“Sweet Jesus,” Louise made the shape of the cross with her free hand.

“But,” Quinn said, calm again, “right now, I’m only interested in you.”

“Fletcher!” she wailed.

“I warn you, sir, do not touch her.”

Quinn waved a dismissive hand. Fletcher doubled up as if a giant had slammed a fist into his stomach. Breath
oofed
out of his parted lips. With a look of horrified surprise, he was flung backwards, thin slivers of white fire crawling over
him, slowly constricting. His uniform began to smoulder. Blood burst out of his mouth and nose, more began to stain his crotch.
He screamed, bucking about helplessly, wrestling with the air.

“Nooo!” Louise implored. “Please stop. Stop!”

Genevieve had stumbled to her knees, white face staring brokenly.

Lawrence began to fumble at the collar of Louise’s T-shirt, snickering eagerly. Then his hand froze, and he drew a breath
in surprise.

Quinn was frowning, squinting along the length of the hangar.

Louise gulped, not understanding anything. But Fletcher had stopped his agonized contortions. A liquid dust, sparkling with
rainbow colours, was slithering over him, and his clothes were slowly mending. He rolled around groggily and swayed up on
his knees.

“What the fuck you doing here, man?” Quinn Dexter shouted.

Louise scanned the far end of the hangar. Duchess was shining directly through the wide-open doors, producing a brilliant
scarlet rectangle set amid the funereal metal cavern. A blank, black human figure was silhouetted in the exact centre. It
raised its arm, pointing.

A bullet bolt of white fire streaked down the hangar, almost too fast for the eye to follow. Louise saw huge shadows careering
around at dizzying speeds. The bolt hit the iron roofing girder directly above Quinn Dexter. He flinched, ducking blindly
as flakes of hot, tortured metal rained down. The whole roof creaked as the loading was redistributed.

“God’s Brother, what the shit are you playing at?” Quinn raged.

A bass laugh rumbled down the hangar, distorted by the peculiar acoustics of the stacked crates.

Louise had time to flash one imploring look at Fletcher, who could only shrug in confusion before the strange figure spread
both arms wide.

“Quinn?” Lawrence appealed. “Quinn, what the hell is happening?”

His answer was a rosette corona of white fire which burst out of the silhouette. The crates around the figure ignited in the
eerily powerful topaz flame which the energistic ability always fanned. A dry wind rose from nowhere, sending Quinn’s robe
thrashing.

“Shit,” Quinn gasped.

The flames were racing towards them, gorging on the crates, swirling around and around the aisle, faster and faster, the eye
of a cyclonic inferno. Wood screeched and snapped as it was cremated, spilling the contents of the crates for the flames to
consume, intensifying their strength.

Louise squealed as the awesome heat pummelled against her. Lawrence had let go of her, his arms waving frantically. In front
of him the air was visibly flexing like a warped lens, a shield against the baneful radiance.

Fletcher scooped up Genevieve. Bending low, he scuttled towards the open door beyond the jeep. “Move, lady,” he shouted.

Louise barely heard him above the roaring. Dull explosions sounded somewhere behind the leading edge of flame. Corrugated
iron panels were taking flight, busting their rusty rivets to shoot off the roof, soaring high into the two-tone sky.

She staggered after Fletcher. Only when she was actually outside did she look around, just for a second.

The flames formed a furious rippling tunnel the entire length of the hangar. Dense black smoke churned out of the end. But
the centre was perfectly clear.