Professional Documents
Culture Documents
2
Table of Contents
Part One
Stolen Property ............................................................................................5
Satisfaction ...................................................................................................11
Choices..........................................................................................................23
Ritual .............................................................................................................30
Peacemaker ..................................................................................................37
Part Two
Saints and Sinners .......................................................................................50
Part Three
Crown Imperial ...........................................................................................81
Mushrooms ..................................................................................................88
Part Four
Pax Britannia................................................................................................139
The Hunt.......................................................................................................145
Backspace .....................................................................................................152
3
Part One
matter of perspective.
4
Stolen Property
The stink of low tide almost made Elnis gag. The smell of old fish, mud and
rotting garbage hung in the air with the vague scent of seawater. The night
breeze was gentle enough to keep the stench lingering. He quelled the urge to
At this time of early evening, the taverns and alehouses were overflowing
with stevedores, sailors and dockers. Elnis wanted out of this rank city. He’d
had enough of their rough ways, their bad manners, and their awful nasal
He looked up at the gently swaying sign. The Sea Mistress looked down at
The front door burst open, raucous noise erupted and two men stumbled
onto the street, attempted to sing but were laughing too hard. Elnis’s lip
He would find his prey here; after all, they had invited him.
Adjusting his charcoal-grey robes around his tall, spare frame, he stepped
The din lessened as people turned to stare, then resumed as they decided
The men were grubby, stank of fish and sweat, and Elnis tried not wrinkle
his nose. They’d obviously stopped for a cleansing libation before heading
home. They were not his concern, unless they made it so.
5
Elnis scanned the crowd, looking for the two familiar men. He almost
missed the couple as someone stepped in his way, but he’d seen the shock of
“Dis ain’t no place for the likes o’ yuh.” The burly man said.
Elnis looked up at him. The man’s eyes - blurred by ale, blue and faded by
held a tankard. Elnis smelled the bitter brew and quelled his rebelling
stomach.
“I’m sorry, were you speaking to me?” He asked and earned a sneer from
The man scowled. “Didja not ‘ear me? ‘op it or I’ll be makin’ yuh sorry.”
the… less fortunate in this tavern.” Elnis reached into his robe and pulled out
a circle of silver. “Here.” He handed the man the coin. The man stared down
at the gleaming money, puzzled. “I’d be more grateful if you would watch my
Fat fingers curled over the silver, and he nodded as his fist rasped across
Elnis stepped aside and pushed his way through the crowd. Protests cut off
“Good evening, gentlemen.” Elnis bowed to the orange haired man, then
Both gaped at him for a moment, looked at each other, then smiled at him.
6
“Elnis!” The dark haired one said. “Welcome, come, sit down, sit down.”
Elnis sat, the giant stood back and watched with a sip of his ale.
“So… Elnis, what brings you here?” The dark haired one said with false
cheer.
“A small matter of your thieving from me, Merrick,” he nodded to the dark
“Aww, Elnis, it’s what we do. No hard feelings, okay?” Dak said and
looked past the giant. “Why don’t we get you an ale and be friends?”
“Why don’t you return my property and we won’t have any unfortunate…
Dak and Merrick grinned at each other. “Can’t do that, squire, we’d be
laughed at.”
“Sure we will.” Dak wriggled in his seat, leaned across the table. “See, in
this town, what you get is what you keep. What you can keep, you own. What
you own, you can sell. Surely a merchant of your standing can understand
that?”
Elnis smiled, warmth coming into his eyes. “Of course I can. It’s the way of
very name and I simply can’t have you stealing from me. I’d like to say I’d be
laughed at, but to other merchants, they take such things in their stride.” He
gave a small shrug. “Some even expect it. I do not. Nor do I take it lightly.”
“What?” Merrick laughed. “You gonna call the law on us? Oh, Elnis.” He
shook his head. “The local guard take a cut of the proceeds. No, you’ll not
7
find any recompense or satisfaction there. So, better you write your losses off
“I do not care for the refreshments in this establishment, Merrick, all I wish
Merrick and Dak glanced at each other and giggled. “Not going to happen,
Elnis’s face lost all expression, but neither men saw it as any danger. They
should have, Elnis thought, they most certainly should have. “That’s your
final word?”
Dak smile widened. “That would be telling. And just so you know, there is
no way you could overpower us two and steal from us. Even with Wido
“It is most unfortunate you have decided to keep the rings, for they will
price.” Dak’s brown eyes lost focus as he imagined, no doubt, the wealth he
would gain. Elnis could see it in the way he held his too skinny body, the way
“Yeah.” Merrick agreed and the same expression came over his face.
Elnis lifted an eyebrow. “And what makes you think you’ll ever get to sell
the pieces?” He asked, his finger moving in a circle of spilled ale. When he
was done, a magical sigil had formed. He gently blew on it and the mark
8
Neither man noticed. Dak and Merrick were staring at each other will
undisguised greed. Elnis drew another sigil and blew it towards Merrick.
With a final smile, Dak returned his attention to Elnis. “Elnis, this is our
town, these are our people. We know who to sell to, and who not to sell to.
The sigil slid up the side of Dak’s ale tankard and crept onto the back of his
hand. Elnis glanced at Merrick as the other mark reached the same
destination.
Elnis dragged in a deep breath and slowly let it out again. “You will give
glanced back Dak then reached into his tunic and pulled out a leather pouch,
“Thank you, gentlemen.” Elnis stood and tucked the pouch into his robes.
“I would suggest you never try to steal from a merchant wizard, but you can
explain your actions to the demon Mordai when you see him. He’ll be most
interested; he’s a friend of mine. And don’t worry, he knows you’re coming.”
Elnis stepped away from the table without looking back. He flicked
another silver coin at Wido who caught it in a meaty fist and gave him a
As he reached the door, the noise in the tavern lessened until it was a well
No doubt, the patrons were wondering why the two men were turning a
rather unattractive shade of green, and the smell emanating from the two
9
Ah, well, revenge, when done right, is its own reward. He patted the pouch and
walked away. Maybe the Sea Mistress would no longer tolerate thieves. It was
a given the tavern wouldn’t be having any business for some time. He would
never know, he would not return to this city, but he was sure Mordai would
Elnis laughed into the night; it was a sound that echoed into the alleyways
and reverberated off the walls, not just this time, but his laugh would play in
the night air whenever anyone thought about the strange happenings this
10
Satisfaction
Grigor spied a concrete-edged grave with his flashlight and sat down,
“Of course it is.” Mal agreed sagely and sat next to him. “It’s a grave yard.
Grigor turned to his new friend. “You do know this is terribly cliché of us.”
Grigor snorted and reached under his jacket for his flask. “It’s what?” He
unscrewed the dulled silver cap and breathed in the red wine. He had no idea
what type of red wine it was, only that it had a hint of blackberry in it.
“Dew jaw.” Mal pulled a half-bottle of Jack out of his backpack. “You
know when they say,” he put on a snooty voice, “it’s soup dew jaw. Well…”
“I get it, I get it. I just didn’t know you knew. And it’s du jour. D. U. J. O. U.
Mal squinted at him. “That’s what I said.” He opened his bottle and took a
out and little noises squeezed through his mouth until he couldn’t contain
Grigor’s smile was smug. “I told you to get something with less kick.”
Mal coughed and hacked and wheezed. “Jaysus… wept!” He lifted an arm
and wiped his eyes with the sleeves of his jacket. He turned to Grigor. “I
never thought a rich boy would want to hang out with the likes o’ po’ ol’ me.”
Grigor grinned and affected the same posh tone Mal had used. “We like to
know about the less fortunate than us. It is an education.” He resumed his
normal tone and shrugged. “I get fed up with the ‘you should know this
11
person’, or ‘don’t talk to him/her, they are not of our class.’ Bloody Hell, I
want to choose my own friends, not who the folks think of as acceptable.”
Mal laughed. “If they only knew what you were up to.” He looked around,
his grin wide enough for Grigor to see the shine of his teeth. “Waddaya
Grigor put the back of his hand to his forehead and spoke like his mother.
“‘Oh, Grigor, how could you? He’s so, so, common!’” They both laughed.
“Now this.” Grigor held up the flask. “This flask belonged to my great, um,
great? Grandfather. See,” he offered the flask, “you can see were the silver is
“So why’ve you got it? We’re too young to drink, remember?” Mal took
Mal leaned to the side, blocked one nostril and blew. Then he did the other
side. “Yeah, but it’s got a nice flavour, once you get past the…” He broke off
and tilted his head. “Did you hear that?” He asked softly.
Grigor listened; all he heard was the breeze through the trees. “Nup.”
Mal shook himself. “I could have sworn I heard… Nah. Don’t wanna think
about it.”
But both sat in silence and listened anyway. Grigor looked around,
searching for the noise Mal had said he’d heard, but saw nothing unusual.
“Did you know,” Grigor leaned towards his friend and spoke softly, “that
“What?”
12
“The wind in the trees, it don’t rustle. You know how we’re always reading
at school about ‘leaves rustling in the wind’? Well, they don’t rustle.” He
“They don’t?”
“No. If you listen carefully, it’s the sound of steam.” He leaned closer until
“Steam.”
breeze, make a sssss sound.” His whisper rose and fell as he drew out the
sound. “It’s the sound of a…” he softened his voice until the last word.
“Hiss.”
Grigor snickered. “It’s true.” He said, his tone more normal, and yet still
hushed. Maybe it was because they were in a graveyard. He took a sip of the
“You are such a dick.” Mal griped and took a tentative sip from the bottle.
“That’s what we’re here for.” Grigor snickered. He aimed his light behind
him to read the headstone. “Here lies the faithless Adam Paul. He’s dead and
buried and with the Lord. One wife to many and died in a brawl.” Grigor
grinned.
“Hey, they spelt ‘to’ wrong. Isn’t it supposed to have two ‘o’s’?”
“Yeah, good to know you paid attention in English, but look at the date.”
young’un.”
13
Grigor got up and walked to the next headstone. It held nothing of interest
or something.”
“They are. I saw a thing on PBS one night? This guy, he left a tape recorder
“That’s bullshit, man.” Mal said from behind him. “Some asshole probably
Grigor shook his head. “Nope, he had a video camera hidden so he could
watch.” He put the flashlight under his chin and turned slowly towards his
friend. “No-one showed up. Only the voices of lost souls.” He intoned.
“You are shittin’ me.” Mal’s voice quavered and he slurped down a
mouthful.
“Nah. Scared the spit outta me when I heard those voices. They played the
actual tape.” He clicked off the flashlight and whispered, “help me, help me.
“Cut it out.”
He turned the light on, shrugged. “Just telling you what the voices said.”
“Nah, s’all made up, isn’ it. I mean there ain’t no proof.”
14
Grigor thought Mal was trying to convince himself, that he tried to be
strong, cynical, manly. Through the gloom, he saw a low stone-built structure
and smiled.
Mal, Grigor thought, was getting well and truly pissed. In a show of
“Yeah, homeless guy who ran around screaming about the end of the
world and the dead rising and stuff. Man, he was weird.” Grigor remembered
the man, unwashed with food stuck in his black beard, smelly, a feral gleam
Mal chuckled in response. “Guy was a nut job. Disgustin’ ol’ scrote. Prob’ly
“Could be, Mal, could be.” The beam of the flashlight lit up the stone door
of the crypt. He turned back to Mal. “Whaddya think?” He leaned into Mal.
“Wha’?”
“How much do you bet I can scare yah? Make ya squeal like a girl?”
Mal punched his arm. “You caint. I ain’t ‘fraid of no dead house.”
zombies with hollowed out eyes jus’ waiting to suck ya brains out through
15
Mal was grinning like an idiot, slurping down his drink.
They both all but ran to the door, pushing and shoving each other.
In front of the stone edifice they paused, saw the metal-wrought handle
with the bar keeping the door shut and grinned at each other.
“It was your idea, you do it.” Mal thumped him again with his fist.
“Girl.” Grigor sneered and walked up to the door, the light firmly on the
“Bitch.” Mal sneered and reached out for the lever, ready to push it down.
Grigor stepped aside, held the light firm on Mal’s white knuckles as he
“Holy Hell!” Mal coughed and turned his head. “What a stink!” With his
other hand, he lifted the bottle, now almost empty, and took a swig. He
covered his nose for a moment then looked back at Grigor with an impish
Inside the crypt was dark. No, Grigor thought, not simply dark, but black.
The black only the blind could know, but he didn’t bring up the light as he
stood in the doorway. The smell was appalling. It stank, as Mal had said, of
rotting corpses.
16
Mal was ahead of him, feeling his way over the cold covers of the
sarcophagi, no doubt looking for a place to sit. “Shine the light, Grigs.” Mal
Grigor heard Mal’s trainers shuffling across the stone floor. Everything in
The blood in his veins iced over as he heard another, slower scrape against
stone to the left of his friend. His heart began to race as he realised Mal, in his
He couldn’t utter a sound, but still didn’t bring the light to bear. Instead, he
backed up, grabbed the handle of the door and pulled with all his might to
close it. The steel bar leaned up against the wall. He picked up and jammed it
He couldn’t hear Mal, but could imagine the complaints, the slowly rising
voice, the shouts. He wiped his mouth and swallowed. He could clearly see in
his mind the panic on Mal’s face as he realised he’d been locked in. Then Mal
would hear the noise behind him and begin screaming. Probably like a
hysterical girl.
Grigor back up further and lifted the light to the top of the door.
How his great, great, whatever grandfather, managed to become the living
dead, he didn’t know; nor did his father, nor grandfather. Both men spoke of
the man in fearful, sick and sorry tones. All he knew was that Grigor the First
needed to be fed every year on this night, at this time, midnight; and it was his
progeny who bore the burden of providing the meal - however that
17
When his breathing settled back into something resembling normal, Grigor
walked back out of the graveyard, checking over his shoulder ever ten
seconds. His father was waiting. His father waited last year, too.
Without a word, Grigor the Fourth clapped a hand on Grigor the Fifth’s
Once enclosed in the comfort of luxury, Grigor drank down the rest of the
move on.
18
Street of Souls
Anticipation swelled in his chest, the burn of hunger sharp in his guts like
claws.
He cocked his head to listen. He couldn’t let the beast inside overwhelm
Aladaar huddled in his black cloak, stamped his feet. It was bitter, this
night. I should have chosen a more heavily populated area. He stared out at the
No. Cutthroats, thieves, prostitutes and beggars; the mad and the drunks…
they all lived here, if you could call this refuse-strewn, sewer-stinking street
as ‘home’.
Bright lanterns hung on wooden posts at each end of the street; the light
barely reached the sides of the road. He’d chosen his spot well: the alleyway
He glanced to the right, towards the docks, up into the night sky. A curve
of pus yellow moon hung low. The inns would close soon, and then… well. A
A door opened and noise fell into the air. Aladaar drew in a breath and
No, he mused with surprise. The elderly man was surrounded by another,
darker, more seductive scent: magic. Its sharp tang stung Aladaar’s nostrils
and he flinched. Damn them, why couldn’t they leave these people alone? Why
must they hunt the down-trodden and desperate? He helped them far more
than anyone else, but the Councillors never seemed to appreciate that.
19
They would not stop him. His lip curled in a sneer as he shifted on silent
feet and peered around the corner. The old man was being held up by one of
the Councillors and he felt the smile crease his chilled face. One shouldn’t be
He called to his own brand of magic, eased out a breath and waited. This
The woman gasped and stared at him. He could see her tremble, a fine
ripple shuddered through her body. The old man didn’t react, but he was so
“I would take him.” Aladaar murmured and stared at the wrinkled and
stooped man.
“No!” The woman shook her blonde head and struggled to hold herself,
Aladaar stepped closer as she squeezed the old man to her side as if to
protect the wasted shell of humanity. He kept his voice soft, cajoling. “Can
you not feel him slipping away? Can you not hear the slowing beat of his
The woman shuffled backwards, glanced around for help, but there was
none, not on this street. It was why chose this as his hunting ground. And it
struck Aladaar as odd. This woman oozed with magic... Could it be that she
didn’t know?
The tension tightening his shoulders eased and Aladaar felt the thrum of
“You… don’t know me, do you?” He asked gently and she shook her head,
20
“I’m sorry if I startled you.” He lifted his hands slowly and pulled back the
cowl of his cape, smiled at her, filled his eyes with kind warmth.
He tilted his head. “I am Aladaar. I’m often down here looking for the
imperilled.”
Aladaar’s chuckle was rueful. “Just because I dress like I live uptown,
which is where I do live, doesn’t mean I should ignore the… less fortunate of
our citizens.” He nodded at her charge. “I need to use my wealth for more
slumped his shoulders. “Like you, I have a calling and I understand your
should be here, living in squalor, in poverty.” His eyes met hers. “In
The woman adjusted her hold on the man, as if he were growing heavier.
And he must have been, for the old man’s milky eyes had closed and he
“If you have any doubts, perhaps you could speak with a representative of
the Council?” It was daring of him to mention the ruling body, but she was a
neophyte. The mere mention of the Council had her eyes widening.
“You… you know someone on… the Council?” She asked, awe filled her
eyes and she shifted her grip on the old man who’d slumped against her.
He gave her a beguiling smile. “Not someone, every one of them, and they
know me.” But not for the reasons you’re thinking, sweetling. “I’m often down
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“Then indeed, why don’t I assist you?” He flung his cape wide in
preparation of her passing the old man over. “He must be heavy.” He said
With some reluctance, the woman eased the limp man into Aladaar’s arms.
He held the old one easily in one arm and pressed a hand to the man’s chest
Immediately he could feel the waning strength, the weakening life force.
“Why don’t you take his other side, then he’ll be completely protected and
you’ll be doing exactly what you were charged to do.” He kept his tone
seductively low and with a relieved smile, the woman wrapped her arm
Aladaar made sure she touched him, too, and revelled in her power.
***
Aladaar sat on a carved chair outside the King’s Tavern enjoying the sun
and his breakfast. He listened to the gossips seated at a table next him.
“…The White Council said two more bodies and that the killer left no
Aladaar patted his full belly and sighed, heard the horrified cries of the
woman and old man inside of him. It would be a couple of days before their
life forces were completely digested by the beast. Then he could hunt again.
He flicked a glance over his shoulder to the women; maybe the fat one.
22
Choices
The world tilted crazily: ships masts, dark sails, black water, lantern-lit
buildings, sky…
Kelso swung around the spar once more, released, then landed lightly in
the crow’s nest of the merchant ship Mortal’s Bane, hunkered down, out of
She brought her knees up to her chest and tried to still her rapid breathing,
her pounding heart. After all the effort to get here dodging citizens and
soldiers alike, failure meant prison... or worse. Not that she was up to
An acrobat could never have too much practice. It was a mantra she lived
breathing to calm her nerves. Once, her family were renowned throughout
the land as the premier acrobats; tumbled for royalty, they did, made a
Now, if she could get herself down again without attracting any
attention… oh, and don’t forget the proof she’d made it this far.
Kelso raised her head and looked around. She was in a bloody crow’s nest,
what kind of proof would she be able to garner up here? Her gaze moved up
challenge, at last, she thought. She could imagine herself clambering all over
those ropes and spars, dodging witnesses by hiding behind the cargo or
23
above the lantern-light’s reach. Now, though, it seemed not only foolhardy,
What would Sando do with a spar flag? Sure, they were long, but they
were narrow, too, not much to them. The Mortal’s Bane’s flags were a rich red
and burgundy colour. Maybe Sando was going to make some headbands?
Nah, Kelso decided and stretched out her legs, massaged her leg and knee.
Whatever he had in mind, she wanted nothing to do with it. She would get
him the accursed flag and then leave him to his own devices. She was tired of
doing everything for him, of giving in to his every demand just to assuage her
guilt. But it was his guilt, too. She understood that now.
He’d milked that for all it was worth and more. Seven Hells, she hadn’t
escaped injury, either! But Sando - poor, pitiful, selfish, self-indulgent, angry,
Sando’s shout echoed through her memory. “Get over it? How do you get
over not being able to use your legs, you insensitive lack wit!” He yelled at his
She’d looked at him. “Do you not want to live anymore?” She’d asked, her
“What do you know about it?” Sando grumped and folded his arms across
“I can take care of it, if you wish.” She said softly. “You can either die like a
everyone’s life as torturous as your own. If you choose the former, I’ll help
24
you go to sleep in peace. If you choose the latter, you will never see me again,
Sando curled his lip, dragged his body higher in his bed. Then he turned
away from the window, ignored Bethna to sneer at Kelso. “So, sister mine,
you would have me assassinated? I’m such a burden, you’d have this witch
kill me? Is it so tiresome, so disgusting, to help me, your own brother? One
Kelso felt her face pale as she remember the poisoned and embittered tone
in her brother’s voice, felt the sharp pain in her heart at his accusation.
“You would have me murdered so you can be free of me. Look at you!
He’d turned his fiery green eyes to her. “I will stay in this place until I am
satisfied my… bane has been punished properly.” His lip curled again as he
Bethna raised an eyebrow. “So be it.” She had turned then and walked
away, her dress swishing against the floor. That was last month and Kelso
never saw Bethna again. Rumour had it she’d left town and that saddened
Kelso because she had always enjoyed the other woman’s company, thought
Bethna and Sando might one day… Now she, like Sando, were alone.
Kelso stood and wrapped a hand around the mast. She looked up at the
cap and shook her head. One last foolhardy exercise and no more of Sando’s
escapades. Sando made his choice. Her toes gripped the wooden mast and she
climbed up.
Once she had her prize secured under her shirt, she searched the dock for
foot traffic, and down to the deck for the ship’s watch to change.
25
This late at night, the watch was more ‘find-a-comfy-spot-and-doze’. The
sailors below her did as she expected; one sat in a giant coil of rope, settled
down to sleep while the other leaned over the stern and stared at the dim
Keslo climbed over the crow’s nest, walked the spar to a rope and climbed
down, hand-over-hand. The planks felt smooth under her toes as she silently
lowered herself to the deck near the bow. All was silent. The crew would
catch Seven Hells for the missing flag, she thought with a grin.
She hopped over the side of the ship and onto the stone pier. As soon as
her feet touched stone, she felt an enormous weight lift off her shoulders and
a wicked grin pulled at her mouth. She still had it, still had the talent.
Kelso all but skipped down the alleyway that led home. She stopped and
stretched out her muscles, rolled her shoulders and flexed her arms. She felt
A giant, meaty hand came down hard onto the back of her neck and she
“Alright, missy, what’re you doin’ out beyond curfew?” A deep voice
demanded.
The hand moved from her neck, slid down her spine and across to her
waist. “There’s no one out tonight. Just you and I. You can exercise all you
want with me.” His voice was rough, his hand crept around her stomach,
pulled her against his big body and she felt a surge of pure adrenalin.
26
“I don’t think so. I think you’ll have to pay a toll.” His mouth came down
on her nape and both his hands wrapped around her slim waist.
***
“Did you get it?” Sando’s terse question interrupted Kelso’s thoughts as
she walked through the door to his bedroom. She could smell the illness in
here, catch the scent of desperation, anger and self-neglect. It wasn’t anything
she could do about. All she could do was clean up: him and the room, and
He could have if he tried, but he didn’t want to, wasn’t ready to face that
“Yes, Sando, I did.” She tried out a smile as she handed over the package.
He didn’t thank her, merely took it from her with ill-grace and tore it open.
His green eyes narrowed as they met hers. “I don’t believe you. I think you
screwed one of the crewmen into giving it to you.” His eyes crawled up and
down her body. “You’re too fat and slow to be able to climb up there.”
The words hurt, but he’d flung them at her so often, she was becoming
numb to them. She waited for what came next; it always did. Kelso kept her
eyes on his.
“If you’d been thinner, faster, a better acrobat you could have saved me,
Kelso stepped closer to the bed and tilted her head. “You know what I
think, Sando? I think you like to keep me around to punish yourself as well as
me.” His face paled. “I think you’re so filled with guilt and self-hate that you
27
cannot stand to be alone with yourself. Yet, you can’t be totally to blame, can
you. Well, guess what, brother. You are to blame. This was your doing and no
one else’s.”
“How dare you!” White rimmed his mouth he was so furious. Kelso
stepped back.
“Sando, it’s time to face up to the truth. You had no business scruffing with
the princess. You had no right to drag me into your sordid affair. You had no
right to demand I help you escape. Worst of all, Sando,” she paused, watched
is rage-filled eyes, “you lost your nerve and you know it. Any acrobat would
have made that leap; the balcony wasn’t that far away. But you didn’t; you
panicked when you heard the palace guard and I couldn’t get to you in time.”
Tears sprang into his eyes and she bit her lip. She would not give in on this, as
Kelso massaged her hip. She’d broken her femur in the fall, dislocated her
Kelso began to pace, but kept her eyes on her brother’s. “The horrible thing
is, you dragged me off the wall, too, because you didn’t want to die alone.
You nearly killed me. It sticks in your craw that I’m almost recovered and
you’re not, nor will you ever be. And still, you don’t want to be alone. But
you’ll punish me; you’ll twist the truth until you can convince yourself it was
“And I’ve let you because if I had been faster, quicker and fitter, I may have
been able to save you this never-ending pain.” She looked away from the grief
and knowledge in his eyes. Kelso lifted her shoulders. “I’m not going to let
you do that anymore, Sando. You did this to yourself. It’s been more than a
28
“Where are you going?” Sando croaked behind her.
“Where? I’m going where I’m needed and wanted, and yes… loved -
without reservation, without vitriol, without spite.” She turned back to him.
“You were half-right. I am screwing someone.” She gave him a half smile.
“He’s actually one of the guards. All those times you sent me out on errands
to test my skills as an acrobat, hoping I would fail and fall so I could be like
“You can’t leave me, Kelso, what will I do without you? How will I
She ran a hand through her black hair and turned away, her head bowed.
In his mirror, on the wall facing him, she saw the sly, smug calculation in his
eyes. She brought her hand down. “You do whatever you need to do to live or
Kelso shrugged and walked into his arms. “It’s his choice. You’ve made me
understand it’s always been his choice; and mine. I can’t facilitate his needs
anymore - you’re right about that. He can rejoin the living, or he can join the
dead.” She looked up into that oh, so handsome face. “All he has to do is
29
Ritual
The ritual didn’t go well. James has that look in his eyes again; the one that
Maybe it’s the house. This monument, this testimony to convict labour has
glass. The quiet seeped into my soul, soothed my pounding heart. Every
evening, following dinner, the ritual began with my wandering the house,
closing windows against the cool air, shutting doors to hold in the heat.
“Let the servants do it.” James’ harsh comment echoed in my mind. “It’s
My poor James. The son of wealth and influence and it wasn’t enough.
Control of business meant control over his home and those who inhabited it,
There was no apology in him, for it was a family trait to rule with iron fist
I looked through the glass, into the night, towards the rose garden and
Poor James. He would join his ancestors soon enough, whether through
tragedy or illness. Virtually all Ogilvy men died young. None reached the age
of sixty.
So many out there, struck down in their prime. William, lost at see off the
coast of Eden during a storm in 1859 and his brother Joshua, gunned down by
30
an escaped convict. James, John and Albert during the Great War; one at
his brother Daniel, shot down over Germany. However, some survived the
conflicts. Martin returned from the Boer War covered in glory. Andrew and
Scott came home from the Great War with their own medals and never-
go on.
Yes, the family had a military tradition. Sons of Ogilvy served in every war
so far. My own sons serve: Richard in the Army, while Thomas sails the seas
in the Navy. I’m proud of them, proud they continue the tradition. But what
kind of men will they be when they return? Bitter and angry like their father?
health grounds. His brother, David, is a Brigadier and never lets James forget
who succeeded and who did not. To James’ credit, he maintains and grows
the family’s wealth and influence. And still it’s not enough.
Tonight, the shame returned. I don’t know what provoked it, but he’s
snarling with barely leashed violence. It is for this reason that I perform the
ritual of wandering the house. It’s to keep out of his way lest he…
We do not speak of such things in polite society. Suffice to say that the
women of the family have always known when their menfolk are… unhappy.
I can hear James. He’s shouting at a servant. I don’t know who the poor
wretch is, but, no doubt, James will recompense them in the next wage
payment.
31
A smile tightened my cheeks. No, the ritual had not gone well and it’s
ward off evil. Every evening, James finds a sprig or two and is enraged.
I do this because I think he’s cursed, as his father before him, and his
father, all the way back to the land grant. According to the records, this land
was sacred to an Aboriginal tribe. Which one, I have no idea, nor do the
John Ogilvy and some of his friends chased the inhabitants off or…
murdered them, for there is no other word for the slaughter of men, women
but pests to be removed from arable land. So much death surrounds this
I sought to remove the curse, but James has no interest in such… arcane
“There’s nothing wrong with me, wife. How dare you suggest such a
thing?” He’d ranted when I suggested he see a doctor. The bruises didn’t take
long to fade, thanks to some herbal remedies, and that was the last time I
Agnes, James’ mother, taught me how to avoid the worst of the male
knowledge be handed to each new bride, and I will do the same for the next
generation.
32
James will look at me with a gleam in his eyes and smile and… I promised
to love and obey; that includes the bedroom. Again, the bruises don’t take
long to fade.
He’s done with the servant; I can hear her weeping which was his goal.
Tears are an aphrodisiac to him and he will be searching for me. If I don’t go,
My hands are shaking, but I stand and make my way towards the stairs. I
brush by Matthew, who turns with a startled look on his handsome young
face. All of seventeen and already has the girls seeking his attention. But why
does he look scared? James never uses violence against the boys, only the
I’ve always a smile for Matthew, but James’ demands come first, so I
continue on to the hand-carved stairs. He’s on the second level, waiting and I
subservience.
and subservience, not replies faint with fear, not from me, the Lady of the
house.
His voice turns soft, filled with threat as he steps closer. “You’ve defied me
Fear, cold and insidious, flashes through my veins, freezing me on the spot.
I slowly lift my head and James’ eyes are the cold blue of a Winter sky, empty
of any emotion.
33
“You constantly defy me; embarrass me in front of the staff and meet
with… less desirable members of society. What good are you if I can’t control
you, hmm?” His fingers brush my cheek with mock affection. “Why can’t you
simply do as I say?”
“Now you understand, my sweet, treacherous Jane.” His smile was cold,
even as I felt the warmth of his fingers. “Oh, yes, I know of the gardener. I
know you have an assignation with him.” His fingers were cruel and hard as
the pressed into my cheeks, gripped my jaw. “I do not believe you ‘consult’
with him on the design and flora of the grounds. No. I’ve heard stories,
I stared into his eyes. Nothing I could say, no proof could I present would
convince him that I did indeed meet with the gardener to discuss the grounds.
James was not the kind of man who believed that I loved him and only him.
His jealousy knew no bounds and any man who looked at me, in his eyes,
was guilty of lust. That meant I was guilty of worse: of seducing them,
because men could resist until a woman smiled at them. That was James’
belief.
He tilted his head and eased the pressure of his fingers, his eyes lingering
on the red marks. “You make me do things, Jane, that I don’t want to. I don’t
want to hurt you, but you do know you have to be punished, your behaviour
corrected.”
“Release me, James.” I said and his mouth twisted. “I am still sore from last
night.”
“Again,” he dropped his hand, “you seek to evade your just punishment.”
34
brandy. “I will beat you to within an inch of your life. I will see to it no man
looks at you again. I will kill anyone who comes near you.” He ground his
“Mom?” Matthew called up the stairs and I turned, horrified that he’d
seen.
I would not have the boy witness this and I wrenched away from James.
“It’s time he learned the ways of the Ogilvys.” James sneered. “And you…
to be reminded of your place.” He drew back his hand and slapped me once,
twice, then used his fist. My head snapped back, blood flew from my mouth.
“Stop.” I cried, raised my arm to protect myself, but James laughed, a deep,
held me fast, as he struck me, his strength increasing as his control slipped
away.
I slapped him and he jerked back in shock, dropped my arm. I’d never
defended myself before, but I would protect Matthew from this. I cast a quick
glance over my shoulder. The boy stood on the landing, shuffling from one
“You… struck me. You bitch!” James said, astonished and I slowly turned
back to my husband.
His arm raised, hand clenched, he hit me with as much force as he could. I
triumphant.
35
I had all the time in the world, and none at all and I hit the steps with a
thud, rolled down like a doll, through Matthew. Bright, brief pain shot
then... nothing.
***
The ritual didn’t go well. James has that look in his eyes again; the one that
36
Peacemaker
Carriage lamps flickered on either side of the entrance to the White Horse
Inn; formed circles of gold on the white paint of the walls. Set between the
green dress and bustle to ward off the chilly late Autumn air, I scanned the
surrounds carefully, but all was hidden by the fog-laced night. I could hear an
odd humming sound and tried to identify from whence it came. It was too
I turned my head to the left, listening, then the right; the noise emanated
from the interior of the inn. Was it of consequence that the irritation came
I would not find out standing here, yet, in this age, it was almost a sin, an
invitation to assault and worse, for a single woman to enter an inn without a
male escort.
rolling green hills and farmsteads, it would be… unfortunate should anyone
remembered for it and that was not my intention. My party awaited me; I
could not linger and taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door of inn.
All sound at the bar to my right ceased, except for that damnable
humming.
37
The barkeeper turned towards me, his smile peeking out from his
“Good evening, Lady Scott, your party has already arrived.” He bobbed his
“Thank you, Mr Devon, I’ll see to them myself.” I said and smiled back at
him.
I strode down the carpeted hallway, ignoring the dark wood of the
equally dark door and took another deep breath, removed my cloak.
The handle moved smoothly as I opened the door. I gasped at the sight
before me. The two men I had come to met had not sat calmly in idle, polite
conversation as gentlemen should. One man had the other by the throat and
second man had a knife to the jugular of the first. The man with the knife
tried hard to cut the first, determined to kill him, but he was held off easily.
“Gentlemen!” My voice was loud, attracting their attention. They gave each
“What’s this all about?” I demanded and closed the door behind me, hung
my cloak on the cedar coat rack and pulled the kid leather gloves from my
hands. The room held three tables with two chairs each and a high backed
lounge against the wall. It was known as ‘the ladies lounge’, since women of
Both men resumed their seats, mutinous expressions on their faces. “’Tis no
business for a lady to be involved in.” The older of the two muttered and
looked away. The other didn’t bother looking at me, but sat with his long legs
under the table, for all appearances a man at ease with himself. His blond hair
38
was short, perfectly groomed. His eyes were green, I knew and, at most times,
“Detective Chief Inspector Morecombe,” I chastised the older man, “we are
His ruddy face flushed, accentuating the grey at his temples. The rest of his
hair was an unremarkable brown, as were his eyes, although at the moment,
they held cold defiance. He leaned his elbows on the table, not the mark of a
gentleman. “It is only by the Queen Victoria’s command that I am here at all.”
“Indeed. And she thought you would be the most… reasonable of all her
Guardia. And you, Sebastian,” I turned to the other man. His long forefinger
was busily drawing in a pool of water left by the two ale glasses. “I would
have expected more restraint from the King’s vassal. Yet, here I am, a lady of
both courts, and neither of you have seen fit to correct your manners and
address me as such. I know that a gentleman always rises when a lady comes
Both men looked momentarily chagrined and rose. Both gave me a bow
with their heads. Morecombe went so far as to hold out a chair for me. I gave
him a smile.
“Thank you, Inspector; that would be lovely.” He bobbed his head and left
me with Sebastian.
He raised his fingers to his temples and rubbed. “I don’t know, but that
humming noise is beginning to piss me off. It’s almost painful. A deep throb
in my head.” He dropped his hands and sighed. “All I know is that the
39
the Queen’s counsel in the negotiations, but all he can do is sneer and belittle
and snipe.”
“And so he should be. And so he should be. I could tear his throat out and
“Why didn’t you? Why did you let him grab you like that, and with a
“I heard you coming. I didn’t want to hurt him, for the Dark Goddess’s
sake, just restrain him. This treaty is too important. It will have to wait, he
comes.”
The door swung open and Morecombe came in with a tray; a golden ale for
him and Bastian, wine for me. He set the tray on the table and placed the glass
“Chardonnay,” he said. “I know you like the French variety from our
“Indeed, my thanks.” I took a sip of the crisp, dry wine and tried not to
smack my lips. It was delicious. Perhaps I could look into purchasing the
winery.
The men took big gulps of ale and I nearly smiled. Machismo: to see who to
wondered how they would deal with the impending belches. See who was the
loudest? The longest? I waited, trying to keep the smirk off my face. Who had
Sure enough, Bastian, quietly burped into his fist, but Morecombe’s eyes
40
I had my diplomat’s face on when he returned, flushed with
embarrassment.
“I think we should get started, don’t you?” I asked glancing from one man
to the other.
I ignored him. “The Vampire King wishes to feed his people. And,” I held
you, Chief Inspector, that vampires have been around a lot longer than
England’s civilisation. It was they who defeated the Romans, the Saxons, the
Vikings, to keep this country pure. It was only through marriage that the
know.”
“Not so, Inspector, the Queen told you. It is written in some of the oldest
texts known to man, in her private library. Who do you think wrote those
books? The Celts had no written language at the time, you would think…” I
bit off what I was going to say, it would have been pointless. “Excuse me, I
Vampire King be given hunting rights, but not to kill the victims, only to feed.
A taste here, a taste there, a… spell of compulsion to make the victim forget.”
41
“I don’t know that the Queen will go for that.” Morecombe muttered and
“The King will.” Bastian murmured. “We only wish to be left in peace as
Bastian narrowed his eyes and I could see a tic start beneath his right one.
“Chief Inspector, I would advise you not to mention that. What he did was
He turned towards me, eyes fierce. “Vampires are nothing but animals.
Morecombe grinned as Bastian slumped back into his seat. “I know a lot,
you blood sucker. I know that you are here alone with two humans,” his
triumphant eyes met mine. “I know that the humming noise you hear gives
you a bloody great headache, as it’s meant to. It’s a little invention of mine
and I thought I might test out the frequency on you. It’s set to above human
Bastian’s eyes met mine and I sat, stunned at the growing pink tinge. His
eyes overflowed with stained water, then the liquid turned red. He held out
his hands, his fingernails had turned a dark red and he coughed. Blood ran
from his lips. “What have you done to me?” He whispered hoarsely.
42
I stood up, horrified at what I was seeing, backed away from him; his nose
“A little drug I slipped into your drink. Quite safe for humans,” he nodded
at me, “but quite toxic to vampires. Oh, I imagine if it was closer to daylight,
the dead sleep you have would heal you in time, but it’s barely ten o’clock. A
long, long way from dawn.” Morecombe rose and came to stand next to me.
head slumped to the table, blood flowing from all orifices now. “What have
would have followed you home and bled you dry. I will not let these animals
feed on us like we’re a Sunday roast! The Queen will understand when I tell
her.” His shoulder’s lifted in a shrug. “I’ll just say he attacked me and I had to
defend myself. You saw him when you came in. She’ll believe the both of us.”
His laugh was a bark of sound and he reached under the table and fiddled
with something. He pulled out a square metal box, flicked a switch and the
humming ceased, much to my relief. “Don’t need this any more. I must say it
need for a treaty now. Not with this and drug I’ve invented. We can hunt his
I was aghast. “The Vampire King’s vengeance will be terrible indeed when
“Bah, what can he do? He’s damned already. And I will take great pleasure
beneath the table. “You should leave, Lady Scott, and let me clean up this
mess.”
43
“You seek to take Van Helsing’s place in history.” I murmured watching
“And I will too. The name of Alexander Morecombe will be known as the
greatest vampire slayer that ever lived.” Again he chuckled, the sound rich
“You are a fool, Morecombe.” I shook my head and tore my eyes from
“Eh? Why’s that? I’ve killed myself a vampire. Nothing foolish about that.”
He shook his head, fiddled with the box before putting it into his top pocket.
“I’ll make sure your name isn’t mentioned in the investigation.” His laugh
I waved off his comments, stood in front of him. His eyebrows rose in
surprise.
“Have you never wondered why the Queen is desperate for a treaty?” I
asked harshly. “Have you never thought of why the King wants peace?”
“He won’t get it, not while I’m still standing. We humans have to stick
eased me to the side as the blood pool spread, drained off the table.
I looked at poor Bastian; so much blood from one body. I swallowed hard
“Day Striders Inspector Morecombe. A vampire who can walk under the
sun. Who can watch the sun rise and not burn to ash. A vampire, Morecombe,
who has the strength of an immortal, the enhanced senses, who drinks blood
44
and who can walk amongst humans. A vampire who still has vulnerabilities,
“Day…” his brows lowered and he paled. “You mean vampires can now
“I mean exactly that. The barrier that is dawn no longer holds relief for
Morecombe leaned back against the wall. “Oh, my God! They’ll hunt us
day and night! Slaughter us! But… how do you know this? I’m the Queen’s
I gave him a benign smile and extended my razor sharp eye teeth until they
were points, an extra half an inch longer than usual. There was no mistaking
fumbled with his little machine and I grinned at him, gave him the full
“Your box doesn’t work on Day Striders. Oh, I can hear the hum, but it is
His hand dived into his pocket and he dragged out a tiny gold cross and
waved it in my face. I jerked back. Not because it was anathema to me, but
“No cross, or garlic will help you now.” I slowly shook my head. “Some
He drew his knife and I batted it away from his hand. I grabbed the front of
his jacket, pushed him back into a chair and I leaned into him. I lowered my
mouth to his and he whimpered, his breath short and trembling; the scent of
45
“Now then, what is the penalty for murder, Inspector?” I asked softly, my
lips brushing his. “What do you think the Queen will do to you? Give you to
our King, perhaps? It is only you and I who know about your little… device
and drug, isn’t it? You wanted the glory all to yourself. It wouldn’t do to
“I won’t tell, I won’t tell, I won’t tell,” he whispered the words like a
prayer, a promise, but it was too late for that. He had killed; murdered a
vassal of the King, and that could not go unpunished. Fortunately for him, it
else who would mete out justice. “In answer to your question, the Queen is
aware of the… problem which is why she wants the treaty. The King would
not see mass slaughter done, either and keeps the Day Striders as emissaries
and… problem solvers. We would be the same for our Queen. Oh, yes,
Inspector, I am a true lady of both courts, but you don’t need to know my
“We Day Striders are powerful enough in our own right to resist
the benefit of the healing sleep, skilful enough to fight our way out of
trouble.”
I stared at Bastian, felt the quiet grief at the death of a friend and colleague.
“Your job here was to deal with the finer points, not kill the King’s
representative. His job was to discuss things with you. My job was to act as an
peoples.”
46
I didn’t know if he was still listening to me, he was still praying. His eyes
were wide with fear, unfocused. I think I really scared him. How unfortunate.
“You may have destroyed the only chance of peace, Inspector.” I looked at
him. He was still praying, though it eased off when I spoke. “Did you not
think of that when you came up with this plan? Did you not consider how
He looked away from me to Bastian and I still saw the satisfaction in the
policeman’s eyes. Ah. I had his plan now. He killed one with a small box. If he
could make the device bigger, he could kill us in a wholesale slaughter. Too
“It would never have worked, Inspector. Once a mass murder had been
discovered, the Day Striders would have hunted the killer down. There
His eyes flicked to mine, filled with hate and loathing. “There will be
others after me. If I have started a war, it will not be done until all of you
filthy creatures have been wiped from the face of the earth.” He snarled
hoarsely.
enemy. You do. Us.” I lifted my cloak off the coat rack, slung it around my
shoulders and fastened the clasp. Morecombe rose slowly and eyed the door.
“You can try, but you would not get far.” I said and tucked my hand into
I eased the door open and guided him down the corridor. As I passed by
47
“I’m afraid we’ve made a bit of a mess in the ladies lounge,” I said with a
smile, keeping my teeth from showing. “I’m going to escort the Detective
Chief Inspector to Her Majesty. Would you take care of it, for me please?”
“Of course Lady Scott, anything you ask.” He gave me a brief flash of fangs
I murmured just loud enough for Morecombe to hear me. “Who’s damned
now, Chief Inspector? Let’s see what Their Majesties have to say.” And I
48
Part Two
false assumptions.
49
Saints and Sinners
It was an hour before dawn when Byzzie Jones wiped her stained hands on
The high school was long empty for the day, but in her mind, she could
still hear the noise of children playing, fighting, teachers calling out for better
Out on the street, beyond the fifteen-foot high fence, a car passed by but
The light on the corner of the building shone pale yellow light onto the
wall and she moved back further, studied the artwork. Another masterpiece,
she smirked.
The colours merged where they should, and sharper, bolder colours blazed
This would cause discussion, she thought, just as she was commenting on
social justice – or the lack of it. It depicted gangs of black men preying on the
neighbourhood. It showed last week’s drive by shooting that took the life of a
five-year old boy who’d been playing on the front stoop of his house. It
showed two police officers beating another black man while a crowd turned
their backs; and in the bottom corner, almost unseen, was a picture of a
surrounded by light.
Anger, despair, ignorance and hope. Always, her pictures had hope in
them.
Byzzie began to pack up her spray cans and heard the mournful echo of a
50
harmonica. She froze, and then resumed her task, not wanting him to know
Byzzie slowly straightened and turned. He was dressed in what she called
his ‘uniform’: Black turtleneck sweater, black leather trench coat that reached
the ground, black pants and boots. They contrasted well with his shock of
She wasn’t afraid of this mystery man, never had been. Even when he’d
first appeared, she’d taken… comfort… in his presence. He was like a warm
fire on a cold night; an easy chair and a beer at the end of a hard day’s work.
Sometimes he spoke, sometimes he didn’t, but he made sure she knew how
“Byzantine. Why did you do this?” His voice bordered on the musical and
it gave her pleasure to hear it. He never called her by her nickname, even
“Why do you follow me?” She glanced at him and continued to put her
cans carefully into each compartment of her paint rack, her eyes on his
One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile and she looked away.
“Your artwork is brilliant. I saw that the first time you painted a wall.”
“Graffiti. It’s graffiti, pal. A destructive mess that someone else will have to
clean up. It’s a blight on the neighbourhood that the council will spend
money on to remove.” She didn’t want this man to know her grief, her anger,
She faced him, hands clenched in fists. His eyes were drifting over her
painting and she wondered if he liked it. A foolish thought. She painted
51
because she could; because of the controversy she might stir up, nothing
more.
her work.
Sadness filled his eyes and she felt a twinge in her chest. She didn’t want to
make him sad, for Christ’s Sake, it was just a… okay, it was a painting. One
She shrugged his hand off. “Doesn’t matter what I feel.” Byzzie picked up
She ignored him and went back for her ladder. He picked up one end and
“I can see the emotions in this. You’re wondering if there is any redeeming
feature to this world. You’ve even answered that question by the family in the
corner.”
Byzzie looked at him sharply. That piece was small, barely a foot square on
a painting that cover the side of a building. He had to have taken a closer look
to see it.
“It’s late. I’m going home to sleep. Bye.” She walked to the driver’s side
door.
52
“Byzantine.” She stopped, hand on the door handle and looked at him.
“If you paint something happy, it will bring hope to the people.”
Her eyebrows rose in surprise and he smiled. Warmth trickled through her.
“If you paint despair, people will feel despair. If you paint anger, people
will feel anger. If you paint hope, people will feel hope.”
“And you know this… how?” She opened the door and got in, hand resting
on the keys.
the darkness and she heard the harmonica again. Did he play? Or was it some
bag person on the street? She’d never seen him with one, but then she ignored
Paint something nice? There was nothing nice about the neighbourhood,
***
Byzzie spent the first hour after sunset rolling white paint over the
previous night’s work. It was a shame, though, it was one of her better pieces.
Of course, sometime during the day, someone had written obscenities across
the bottom.
She waited half an hour for the paint to dry and then chose her first colour:
yellow.
The harmonica sounded when she was almost done; it was again nearly
dawn. It always amazed her how she lost track of time when she painted.
“Beautiful, Byzantine,” he said softly and goosebumps rose over her body
at his voice. No one had any right to such a sweet voice. She carefully sprayed
the pale blue and walked back to where he stood staring up at the picture.
53
“Rainbows and joy. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?” One hand went to
“No, Byzantine, it’s what you wanted.” He smiled down at her and she felt
“A beginning, Byzantine. All good things must have a start, just as bad
Her heart stuttered in her chest and she stopped still. No one had ever said
“Yeah, well…”
His hand rested on her shoulder again and massaged it lightly. Byzzie
lowered her head. How could those few words from a stranger affect her so
deeply.
“Who are you?” She asked. Only once had she asked him and that was
when he’d first appeared all those months ago. He’d demurred then,
something about there being more things under heaven and somebody called
“Redemption?”
He nodded. “Think about it, Byzantine. You know who I am, what I am
and why I came to you. Think about what I said to you last night about
54
painting what people need to see to feel better, to create a better world for
themselves.”
She heard the harmonica, but he just stood there, hands at his sides.
“I will see you again, Byzantine.” He gave her another smile, this one
reached down inside her, warmed her; eased the cold grip of anger and… she
returned his smile as if it were the most natural thing in her unnatural world.
Byzzie wasn’t surprised to see a nimbus of light encircle him then fade and
She went back for her ladder and tied it to the roof of her truck, her mind
Tomorrow, she would find another wall, paint another scene, and try to
His reasoning was right: she’d felt happier painting tonight’s scene; felt her
spirits lift with each pass of the spray can. Maybe others would feel the same.
Hmm, she thought as she drove away from the school in a cloud of blue
exhaust, the side of the police building was blank, maybe she’d paint two
men: one in uniform, the other in gang colours, shaking hands. Then there
was the council building… something amusing, perhaps; and the court
55
Critical Failure
“Rise, North. Rise and greet the new world.” Imogen Trace chanted and
sprinkled droplets of her own blood around the grave. “Rise, North, I bound
In the depth of the night, Imogen glanced at the well-manicured turf of the
grave, waited for movement. Nothing. She half closed her eyes, concentrated
and felt the warm power rise from within her. She felt it ease throughout her
body, surge down her arm to linger at her fingertips where blood coalesced.
She walked the grave. The power entered the droplets as she moved,
splashed onto the grass, sank into the dirt. When the circle was complete, she
crouched down at the foot of the grave and laid her palm flat, pushed more
Now she could see the grass stirring. It shifted as if alive, parted in a
rippling wave to reveal an oak casket. The top slowly and silently opened. A
gust of decay-filled air erupted from the interior and Imogen held her breath.
She reached behind her and fumbled for the Maglite. It was a large one,
designed to penetrate the blackest of nights and she carefully breathed out
again.
The man lifted a hand to his eyes as the beam struck him in the face. “Turn
that bloody thing off!” He said in a husky British accent. “You wanna give our
position away?”
56
“How do you feel?” She asked softly and lowered the flashlight. He was
dressed in Armani. As she watched, his chest filled out, his arms tightened
He’d been a fine specimen of manhood in life, and that, obviously hadn’t
changed with his death. His dark hair was brushed back from a broad
forehead; he had dark blue eyes that were filling out to fit into eye sockets.
The flesh on his face thickened, plumped out to cover high cheekbones, full
“Like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.” He grumped and sat
Imogen cleared her throat and didn’t answer. He’d probably be offended if
“Give me a hand will you? Then you can explain how the bloody hell I got
in here, and what happened in Sydney.” He rose to his feet and staggered,
reached out to steady himself on the side of the grave. “What the hell?”
buried me alive?”
There was no easy way to say it. “Ah, no, Mr Grosvenor. You’re actually
dead.”
He raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her, then tilted his head and frowned
wounds on his torso were still clear to see, though no blood oozed. She gave
him life, she gave him blood, he had none in him except that which magically
57
“Holy shit!” He stuck a little finger into one of the holes. It came out clean.
He did the same to all the holes scattered across his chest and abdomen.
“Wow.”
Imogen waited him out. It had to be tough for him and that was probably
an understatement.
“How did you… no, don’t answer that, I already know.” His eyes lifted to
Imogen nodded. “While I live, you live. I, and only I have the power to put
you back. Should I die, you will too. It is my blood, my magical blood that
sustains you. You’ll never need to eat or drink, not even from me.” His face
and no matter what happens to you, you will live.” Her voice dropped. “Even
if you lose your head, you will still live until I put you back or die. Do you
understand me?”
North snorted and climbed out of the grave. Imogen stepped back, out of
the circle.
blessed thing. Is there a view? Not that I care, of course. I mean, how much of
He tried to take a step forward and found he couldn’t. His legs would take
him only so far, to the edge of the circle before he could walk no further.
“Assumptions are what got you here.” Imogen said with a small smile.
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North lifted that eyebrow again and crossed his arms over his chest,
impatient.
“Not yet, Mr Grosvenor, not until you’ve heard what I have to say.
“Yes, madam. You sustain me. While you’re alive, I’m alive and so on. Get
to the point.”
“Of course you were,” she muttered and took a deep breath. The taint of
decay still lingered, but it was only a hint. A little aftershave would
overpower it. It was a smell that would always be around him now. “You
may as well have a seat, this might take some time.” She said and sat cross-
Imogen shone the light on her backpack and pulled out a lantern, turned it
on and the flashlight off. She reached into her Esky and pulled out a
North looked on with interest as she poured herself a glass. She didn’t
bother to offer him one, and took a sip. His expression was priceless as he
“Good. That’s bloody good. Vintage?” He said and stared down at her in
Imogen shook her head. “What sustains me, sustains you. What I taste, you
taste.”
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North sat down at the edge of the open grave. “Just remember, I don’t like
Imogen chuckled. “Okay, I’ll do that.” She had another sip then lowered
address.” His mouth lifted in a smile and dimples flashed in his cheeks.
As if reading her thoughts, but probably her expression, North said, “Can I
Imogen felt heat rush into her face. Now there was a question! “Ummm…”
“Oh, wait.” He grinned at her wickedly. “‘What sustains you, sustains me.’
“Right.” He said and manfully tried to quell his humour and failed. He sat
“Any more and I’ll tip the wine out.” She threatened and he subsided,
“Now, to begin.” She dragged in another breath and eased it out. “When
you died, it was the end of an era. No, don’t go all stuffy and proud. I mean
that when you died, the idea of freedom died with you. Regardless of your
overblown sense of self worth, you really were the best and only hope we
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“When you failed, you failed us all, North.” It was a cruel way to put it, but
she had to break through his arrogance and make him understand the
consequences. From his shocked look, she’d made headway. “I mean it North.
You died and so did we all, in a hundred different ways. You went physically,
the rest of us went emotionally, socially. Everything we knew was gone and
now there is a new world. One which is not to our liking.” She took a sip of
caught. There are no magical creatures anymore; they are all in hiding after
the purges. Any child that shows any predisposition to magic is destroyed,
their parents, too. And no, before you ask, your magic is gone. That I cannot
He lifted his shoulders. “Then what can I do? I always used magic to
complete my missions.”
“Murdo knew you with magic. Knew how to defeat you; strip you of your
magical protection. Killed you. What do you think he’ll do when you confront
him again?”
“Try the same thing again.” North stated grimly, and then eyed Imogen.
“Three things: the first is revenge. Remember, you cannot die unless I want
you to, or I die. Second, because this was the only mission you failed at. And
third… Third, I’ll put you back if you refuse and find another way.”
North looked away from her. “Got it all planned out, haven’t you?”
“Yes, actually.”
He continued to stare out at the darkness. Imogen sipped her drink and
watched him swallow again. At least he was enjoying it. She’d never been a
fan of red wine, but she’d brought it for him. She’d known it was one of the
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things he’d enjoyed when he was alive. Other… things, she wasn’t willing to
provide.
It was a question she’d expected, but had hoped not to answer. “There’s
not a lot in it for you, North. There’s the satisfaction of always completing
your missions. There’s the knowledge you got Murdo… and there’s the
He turned to look at her, his eyes sad. “But you’ll still put me back. Kill me
off again.”
“You’re not alive now.” She said softly and held his gaze.
“If you succeed, magic will happen again. The creatures will return. The
“That’s up to you, North.” Imogen said quietly. “If you kill Murdo, if you
can return to us the world, then would you be happy as you are? Would you
be happy to exist like you do? Would you be content to be with me for all my
days? Would you be happy to wear aftershave?” She found herself leaning
“Aftershave?” He snorted then grinned. “That smell, when I first woke up.
“I’m afraid so.” Imogen looked behind her. She could feel the approaching
dawn. That meant his answer would have to be swift. What he didn’t know
was that she couldn’t return him during the day. If he found out, all he had to
do was delay her until the sun rose and he would have a full day to do what
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he wished. She could not control him in daylight. It was her secret; one he
“I can’t give you any.” She said apologetically and set her now empty glass
She closed the lid and turned to him. “Haven’t you been listening? Magic
“Oh.”
She could feel the first brush of ambient light on the horizon. It was almost
too late.
North drew himself up. He didn’t breathe, but gave the impression that
he’d taken a decisive breath. “Okay then, I’ll do it. Just to see the look on that
murdering bastard’s face when I turn up again, larger than life.” He gave her
that wicked grin as his eyes roamed over her body. “And maybe I can
“Job first - bonus later.” She promised, although she wasn’t going to fulfil
his bonus in the manner to which he was accustomed, but no need to tell him
that.
“By the way,” he asked as he picked up her Esky and backpack and they
63
The Other Side
Fleur crooned a torch song as she leaned against the baby grand. Her almost
violet eyes settled on each man in the crowd as she sang, but she didn’t really
see them; they were money and it was her job to extract as much as she could
Each man would feel as if she was singing just for him. She used her voice
to reach deep inside to draw out their longing, their passion, their hopes and
dreams. The siren’s lure of her song had more than one man smiling
secretively at her.
Her eyes settled on another man as she sang the end of Underneath Your
Clothes, a song from twenty years ago. Her target shifted uncomfortably and
adjusted his necktie, but he smiled back at her. His midnight eyes were warm,
his black hair combed back. Sun darkened skin stretched across Slavic
even had dimples beside his firm mouth. His interest in her was clear, but he
was just another attractive, well-heeled male, she mused, wanting her
personal attention.
“Thank you,” she murmured into the microphone as she finished the song
and the applause rose. “I’ll be taking a break now, but I’ll be back in half an
hour.” She gave the men a seductive smile, just a slight lowering of her eyes
in promise and placed the microphone on the top of the piano gently. It was
an archaic piece that was more prop than useful. She unhooked the tiny
pickup, the real microphone, from her collar and tossed it onto the glossy
piano top.
64
Pandora strode through the crowd, brushing against grasping hands and
declining offers for companionship and propositions as she made her way to
The door closed, shutting out the noise of the patrons and she walked to
the dressing table ignoring the decor. Staring at her polished image in the
mirror, she slumped into the hard seat. Youth was fading, settling into a more
mature image. How long could she do this? Singing in this nightclub for the
tips she drew. Granted, those tips were great, but she was under pressure by
She stared into her own eyes, saw the answer and looked away. Pandora
rubbed her sternum to ease the aching throb, then her arm where the prickles
were starting up again. The pill bottle was in the drawer and she drew it out,
shook the plastic container. Not many left; she’d have to get more.
The pill had just melted under her tongue when there was a quick knock
He was the last man she’d sung to and her mouth opened to protest his
intrusion.
He held up a hand and loosened his tie before collapsing onto her hunter-
green sofa. He poured himself a glass of water, drank it down and slapped
Pandora eased the frown from her forehead and swivelled the chair to face
him. Silk slithered against silk as she crossed her long legs. “Who are you and
his smile, she thought, but couldn’t put her finger on why.
65
“You know me, Pan, and you know why I’m here.” His voice was deep,
sensual and made her skin tingle. His voice held an accent, but she couldn’t
“I know so many people,” she waved him off and turned back to the
like her to be deliberately insulting, but his cavalier attitude had her reacting
in a manner she would usually reserve for the sticky fingers of her audience.
“Reaper?”
“As in Grim.”
“You don’t look grim to me, pal.” She pursed her lips to apply deep red
lipstick.
Again, he chuckled; the sound caressed her skin. Her eyes met his in the
Pandora shrugged and returned her gaze to her mouth, carefully outlining
her lips to make them more lush than they were naturally. “There are so
many weird names out there. Just last week, some idiot introduced himself as
Michael Archangel. Before that there was Jack Ripper, Julian Caesar, some old
guy called George Bush and…” she tapped a finger against her lips, “oh, yes,
Jesus Nazareth. Let’s not forget, Harold Potter, John F. Kennedy and a
woman… what was her name? Ah, Liberty Bell. So, Mr Reaper, your name is
66
“Your songs are powerful, Pan.” He acknowledged. “Even I wanted you to
“It’s the world we live in.” She shook her head and sighed. “There are too
many wars, too much death and destruction. It’s been going on since the
invasion of Iraq, what, twenty years ago?” Grim nodded. “And it’s never
stopped. One by one, countries are at war with their own fundamentalist
groups, vying for control and eventually, it’s got to stop or someone is going
to drop a bomb bigger than the one that wiped out Israel.”
“I agree, Pan. But I’m not here for anyone else but you.”
“And what are you going to do with me?” She wiped some of the lipstick
off her teeth and turned to him. He was sitting back in the sofa, his arms
Pandora sighed. “Mr Reaper, I don’t want to be rude to you, but no thank
you.”
“Whatever lights your candles, pal.” Another nut job, she thought and
turned back to the mirror, picked up a brush and gently pulled it through her
tea-coloured hair. Maybe it was time for another shade. Black? Blonde? A
cinnamon colour?
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“Gee, you think?” She pursed her lips, replaced the brush. There, back to
perfection; then she looked closer at the lines at the corners of her eyes.
“Ms Le Fleur. I’ve come to take you home. I represent Death…” Pandora
“Well, I’ll agree you’d be death to a number of swooning hearts, but not
mine. You’d probably spoil a lot of women; you’re certainly nice to look at.
But I’m immune to your kind of charm. Now, I have a show to finish, so if
you’ll excuse me?” She walked to the door and opened it. She heard him sigh.
“I try to make myself acceptable to people and this is what I get. Try to
make myself look like a modern man and all I get is rejection.”
“Maybe you should change your name, too.” She said over her shoulder.
“I understand that, but I have things to do and places to go.” He was really
beginning to tick her off. Maybe she should call the Enforcers. There were
“Other side?” She stopped for a moment. He could only mean one thing.
“Oh, my God!”
“Hot damn! I’m finally going to get a shot at Las Vegas!” She ran up to him
Pandora raced out of the room, face flushed with excitement while Mr
Reaper stood with his hands in his pockets and his jaw slack with
astonishment. Maybe he should check his phrase book again. He’d only spent
two months learning the language and it still confused him. It wasn’t that big
68
He made himself comfortable on the couch. He had time, and when he left,
he would have Pandora Le Fleur with him. The world needed her; she would
she even knew she was descended from the Ancient Greek Sirens. But he did.
So did his organisation. And he, Grim Reaper – once Etienne Foucault - of
Death Incorporated Records and The Other Side label would be the one to get
her out there; though why the company insisted on macabre names, he didn’t
know.
69
Clem’s Gambit
“Clem Saunders never did have a lick ‘o sense, Miss. Here, have a seat…
jus’ a sec while I clear these old magazines… There. Yes, ma’am, it is a little
crowded, but it’s outta th’ way and we ken talk in peace. Too much rakit
“Oops, let me clean that off for you. Right. Where was I? Yes, ma’am it
does squeak a bit. Been meaning to fix it, but it’s comfy, ain’t it? You, ah,
“Um…
“Up here? Well, missy, if’n you look ‘round, it’s the safest place. All them
sensors and cameras are set up along the gutterin’, lookin’ down and out. No
one can get to them with the com section looken on. There’s lotsa space here,
too. Not too many buildin’s have attic space no more. And this one is the
“A fire? No, missy, the walls’re coated and we got an escape hatch
anyways.
“Why do you want to record what I say? I thought you Si types just sucked
“Damn right it’s impolite! Oh, okay then, you can record. If’n you want to.
“The beginning? Lemme see… Are you sure you don’ want no drink?
“Okay. Hmm. Las’ time I saw Clem was… Toosday. Yeah, Toosday, las’
night. It was my night to sit in the com section. Clem was soundin’ off about
his wife agin. How she ain’t no good, that she don’ do nuthin’ right and how
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he has to… discipline her all the time now. So he’s goin’ about how she said
she don’ want him no more. Got herself a real fine fella. Plays g-ball down at
the arena. An’ man, he’s good. Wen’ an saw’d him play coupla weeks ago and
wow, he hit this guy so hard, the boy… Er, yeah. Right. Sorry.
“Clem just wouldn’ shut up, so I said to him, ‘Clem,’ I said, ‘you’re better
“I’m sure you have, Miss, but not from me, it ain’t polite. Anyways, he’s
got this plan to get her back, you know? He’s gonna go down there and take
her back. I said to him, ‘Clem,’ I said, ‘that boy will clean your chrono and
then some’. And he says to me, ‘No, Walt, he won’t, cuz I got me a disrupter.’
I said to him, ‘Clem,’ I said, ‘you go around poppin’ people and the Si’s’ll be
‘nuh, uh, Walt. I don’t care anymore. If she don’t want me, I’m gonna make
“I surely did, Miss. He was madder’n a cut snake. I figured he was gonna
do ‘em both.
“Do about it? What could I do about it? He walked out an’ went an’ did
them things right away. Yeah, I called the cops, but he was done by the time
“Yeah, he did. Came through the door with a big shit eatin’ grin and I said
to him, ‘Clem,’ I said, ‘What did you do?’ an’ he said, ‘Walt, don’t worry, I
“Well, now, I don’ reckon a pretty young thing like you should see it. He’s
“It ain’t a job I’d like to have, and that’s a fact. But let me tell you about it
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“Uhhh. Lemme think. Yeah, okay… phew. Just rememberin’ makes me
“And I said to him, ‘Clem,’ I said, ‘where do you think you’re goin’ where
the Si’s won’t git you?’ He jus’ grinned an’ pointed to the… the… Seeker’s
Room.
“Oh, it’s a room filled with them relics from the twentieth century back to
the year dot as far as I can tell. From ships that go on the water and stuff.
“I said to him, ‘Clem,’ I said, ‘you don’ want to go messin’ with stuff you
don’ unnerstan’. An’ he said, ‘Walt, I understand just fine. That dummy in
there…’?
or somefin’ that people who make clothes dress up so’s you can see what it
looks like.
‘It’s covered in a map. A map that glows an’ makes people disappear. I seen it
“Like I said, he ain’t, got a lick o’ sense. So I follows him. An’ I said to him,
‘Clem,’ I said, ‘don’ do this. You don’ know where you’ll end up or what that
cussed thing is for.’ Course, I didn’t say ‘cussed’ but what I said weren’t
“Yeah. I guess the Prof didn’ think it was dangerous or that anybody
would touch it, not with me and Clem and the others to watch out for it. So
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there she was: standin’ tall, wearing nuthin’ but a half-smile, both arms
stretched out as if to hug you or… Yeah, well, I don’ think you need to know
“He says to me, ‘See Walt? It’s pain’ed all over with a map to anywhere. I
can go off world and no one’s gonna know where I gone.’ An’ I said to him,
‘Clem,’ I said, ‘you don’ know nuthin’ about this! Don’ do it!’ An’ he said to
me, an’ he was real angry, he said to me, ‘Walt, no bitch is ever gonna reject
me agin!’
“I’m okay, Miss, I’m okay… Okay. Uhh, well, there was this light that jus’
went everywhere! I couldn’t see nuthin’ for a while an’ when I could… Clem
was… he was…
“Yes, Miss, he was spread all over the place. Blood an’ guts an’ other
went into the room. That mangkin, Miss, she weren’ smilin’ no more, she was
grinnin’ like a fool. God’s truth, she was grinnin’ like a whore hittin’ the
“Yes, ma’am I did. I stepped right up to that mangkin. Didn’ touch it. No,
ma’am, I did not touch that thing. It was pain’ed right an’ so. Kind of like… I
“On her palms, ma’am. It was small writin’. But the one on the left said: ‘I
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“Heh, heh. So, you’re saying that because he lied to himself, coz he’d done
evil, the mangkin rejected him? Oh, ho! An’ Walt took it as ‘I will take you to
the stars, behold the truth’ not the other way around? Missy, that is real
funny!
“Do I know what the mangkin’s called? Yeah. I overhear’d the Prof talking
about it. Said it was a gift from them solemn big-eyed alien types. The one’s
“Yeah, the Prof said so too. That’s why I didn’ want Clem to touch it, an’ he
sure wasn’t pure in intent. He ain’t had no formal education, either. What
would he know about pilots? Clem musta figured that with a Navi-gat-ure
“Yes, ma’am, he surely was an idiot. Well, if I’d knowed about the code, I
still wouldn’t touch it. Still want to go back down there? Yes, ma’am. I’ll take
you.
“That’s okay, ma’am. I’m glad to help. I knowed you want to know it all, or
74
Forever Tomorrow
The great double doors of the throne room slowly opened as Rendo
shouldered his way inside. “Blessed doors need oiling again,” he muttered.
He leaned on his hydrostatic mop, just inside the doors, and let his eyes
Two gold embossed thrones stood on a raised stone dais, empty today. On
the carved black rock walls, in between the arched windows, colourful
tapestries of past battles and rulers drooped forlornly. They were beginning
to fade. Still, they were magnificent. The whole room was. An enormous
fireplace, large enough for a man to stand in, to lie down in dominated the left
and many a morning he’d come in to spend an hour or so cleaning the ash
from the previous night’s fire. Today it was empty, like the room. Above him
From the crossbeams hung chandeliers, made of Nagan crystal. Hard to come
by now, that crystal. It came from the planet Sargossa in the distant galaxy of
Cyrian.
Rendo straightened and slowly walked to the thrones. He bowed his head,
pulled a stained cloth from the pockets of his uni-alls and wiped his nose. He
muttered a prayer that echoed around the empty hall then raised his head at
“Ah, Fordan, still with us, then.” Rendo walked slowly to the fireplace.
Standing next to empty cavern, on the left, was an eight-metre tall and three
The material slid to the floor with a gentle tug. He would wash it later. On
the high perch, the multi-hued bird sat eyeing him with black eyes. The old
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who - raised himself, puffed out his chest, ruffled all his feathers and crapped
onto the bottom of the cage. Then it settled down and trilled a song for him.
Rendo chuckled and shook his head. “My thanks to you, mighty Fordan,
that you can still sing me a song after such an effort.” He eyed the mess on the
cage floor. “Lifts my soul, you know, eases the ache in these old bones of
Starting from the corner behind the cage, Rendo began to glide his mop
across the floor, dancing to the bird’s song as he swept away the dust. It took
him a solid two hours to finish the floor and the bird had subsided into
silence. It watched him, jumping from perch to perch to water tray to food
tray.
“Aye, Fordan, I’ll fill your trays for you before I leave. There’s a lot of
palace to clean.” The bird chirped and chortled as if chastising him. “Well,
you shouldn’t be such a greedy guts and eat it all in one sitting. Now you’ll
From another pocket, he pulled a soft cloth and began polishing the king’s
throne until the gold shone and the white marble sparkled in the sun pouring
through the window. When he was satisfied, he began on the queen’s throne
He gave the chairs one last swat and backed down the dais. “What do you
think, Fordan? Could they be any more clean?” There was silence from
behind him and he turned. The upper part of the cage was empty and he felt a
There, in the bottom, the bird lay dead, a bright rainbow against the dull
silver metal. Rendo leaned his mop against the fireplace and placed his hand
on the cage, his fingers wrapping around the wires. “Oh, Fordan,” he
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He opened the cage and gently removed the body. Rendo cradled Fordan
in his hands. “Aye, but you picked a fine day for it. The sun is shining, the sky
is a clear deep blue. When you fly to your reward, sing a song for me so I
Rendo wandered through the palace, talking to the bird until he found the
queen’s garden. The roses, once beautiful in the summer, now stuck up out of
the dirt as thorned sticks, but Rendo remembered them in full bloom. “You’ll
like it here, Fordan, amongst the queen’s favourite flowers. They are of the
rainbow, too.”
He laboriously dug a grave for the bird between two red roses and
wrapped the creature into a cloth before lowering it into the sun-warmed
ground. Dark brown dirt covered the corpse and Rendo muttered a prayer for
Fordan as he filled in the hole. A tear rolled down his pale cheek. “I am sorry,
murmured.
When he was done, he lowered his head and said a final prayer. The
afternoon’s light became hazy and he glanced around. The day was waning. It
fingers along architraves and skirting boards, across the tops of desks, chairs,
what didn’t.
The kitchen, like the rest of the palace was empty, awaiting the return of
the Royal household. He could have his choice of food; the stores would be
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After he finished the meal, he returned to his quarters and lay down. As his
would return from wintering in the north. Tomorrow, their majesties would
see how well he kept the castle clean, though he dreaded telling them about
Fordan. Tomorrow…
***
The bronze bullet of a ship lowered into the courtyard with a quiet hush. A
door opened and a blue spotlight glowed on the ground. There was a bright
flash and then a man stood in the centre of the light. He stepped out of it and
The marines fanned out with thermal imagers and vibration detectors. It
took little time to report that the palace was empty of all inhabitants.
“Funny thing is, sir,” the Corporal reported, “the squad is reporting
sounds, odd noises but can’t locate a source.” He stared at the great castle.
“This planet was infected with the Ferrian virus over a year ago. All human
life exterminated and quarantined until the virus ran its course. Maybe there’s
some anti-static tech that keeps it clean.” The Captain said, then shrugged.
The Corporal saluted and returned to the ship to make the proclamation.
“This place gives me the creeps, Cap.” Another marine came up beside
him.
“It’s an empty building, Private. No one and nothing is left. Even the stores
moving.
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“Yes, sir, but,” the marine lowered his voice. “I was in the throne room?
And I could hear the swishing of a mop. There’s one in there, leaning up
against the fireplace. Nothing showed on the bio-scans, just the swish, swish
The Captain raised his eyebrows and looked at the marine. “Bird?”
“Yes, sir.” The marine squirmed, uncomfortable. “I could hear bird song,
but no source. The place has no electronic or biological signatures at all. It’s
sterile.”
toward the throne room. He stopped just inside the doors and tilted his head.
Someone was here, just like the Private had said. The bird song, the swishing,
yet he couldn’t see anyone and his scans were empty of life.
”Oh, look, Fordan, more visitors.” Rendo said and paused in his mopping of the
throne room floor. The bird trilled back at him and he grinned. “Think we should
79
Part Three
80
Crown Imperial
I had worked under an assumed name in the bathhouse for two seasons.
Arriving in the winter, I was thankful to be out of the bitter weather and in
the steamy warmth. The customers were an eclectic lot, sometimes apologetic,
complain and whine, then leave pleased that their behaviour demonstrated
they were higher on the social scale. The secure, however, were pleasant,
For the first time in many years, I was happy with the hard work and
The bathhouse used migrant workers and paid them accordingly. That
hadn’t changed in a thousand years, no matter what the labour laws said. I
was grateful I could get away with an unchecked alias, but I was pissed so
Today was a good day. I was to clean out rooms and tubs, scrub tiled floors
and walls, check supplies and prepare for the next day’s influx of regulars
and tourists. A bad day meant toilet duty, and aliens could be truly
weren’t the only bathhouse, but, by the Gods, we were the best.
backwards to the door, cursing the hands-on approach when a sonic cleaner
would be easier, when I glanced back to check my direction and found the
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Cold fear froze my muscles, my heart pounded and chill sweat popped out
on my forehead. I recognised it for what it was; no one else would, for the
style could only be found on my home world. It was a black reo-beast leather
slip on with a sole made of flexible polymer, rippled for a good grip and
could not imagine working in nothing less than the best establishment.
Pride led the Imperial Hunters right to me. They were killers, sent
personally by the Empress. But while they made their allegiance to the
Empire, they had their own personal… loyalties. I had tried to persuade the
Empress to stop the factionalising, but she felt it was a natural part of
Hunter had come. For me. The thought dissolved my shock and frozen state.
I didn’t touch the shoe. I finished the room with one eye on the door,
emptied the bucket down the drain and scooped the shoe into it. The Hunter
I chewed my inner lip until it bled and I ordered myself to stop as I made
lest someone speak to me, and recognise my accent. A Crown Imperial had no
My uncle, Bellar, was determined to put his daughter on the throne and
Bellarine was the biggest, nastiest bitch I had ever had the misfortune to be
related to.
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I tipped the shoe onto the counter. “Room 128.” I mumbled.
Ceri, an octopod, swept the shoe off the counter and made a note in her
book while tagging the object. Her other hands were busy under the counter,
but I turned away before she could engage me in conversation. I had bigger
I returned to my level and the next room on my list. I sat on the edge of the
government for four star systems, one of the biggest in any galaxy.
into the constitution. The only way he could achieve power was through
Bellarine and she would let him. The Empress’s power was absolute, her
wealth incalculable, her influence in other political areas enormous. When the
That did not, however, negate intrigue. Palace politics made even the
plots, but he never went after the Empress; he was afraid of her. Her heirs,
however, were fair game. I knew he was behind the deaths of my two older
sisters. Knew, but couldn’t prove. My survival had depended on the very best
of the Imperial Guard. Before I left Verbarr, a dozen of them had died in my
a while. Only she and I knew of my initial plans. After that, I was on my own.
Imperial Judicar of Westland and half a dozen other titles, and I am working
83
I lowered my head into my shaking hands and sank to the floor. I had to
leave, all because of a shoe; the Imperial Hunters were the best - no one
I was doomed. Light years from home and friends, I would be murdered
and I mourned that I would never see the lush forests of Verbarr again. Nor
the white beaches, snowy mountains, shop in the noisy, fragrant markets, eat
I had never intended to be away forever, only until the Guard found the
proof needed to condemn Bellar. I understood that mother knew of his plans,
but, again, without proof, his condemnation would be considered murder and
no one was above that law, not even the Empress. It was why assassination
keep out of sight. Keep my head down and ignore everyone. In fact, I would
continue as I always had, being invisible to just about everyone. First I had to
With slow hands, I finished my job. The day was drawing to a close. The
night clients would be coming in, with the added benefit of ‘companions’. I
demurred when that job was offered to me. It paid more, but I was no one’s
whore. It might be legal but I could not do it; not and maintain my
I shared a room with five others, all of whom were companions. This
suited me down to the ground. It meant I had privacy. I shut the door on a
sigh and turned. Three bunks lined the walls. In the centre of the room were
six chests where we stowed our gear. They doubled as seats as well. Square
windows were set at two corners, overlooking the river and the city. That was
it. That’s all we needed: a place to sleep and another for our gear.
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“I’ve been waiting, Imperial.” A man unfolded himself from my bunk. I
didn’t question how he knew it was mine. Hunters, as I said, were very good.
He slowly stood. Black uniform, black hair, black eyes, black… shoe.
I backed up to the door and fumbled for the handle, my heart in my throat
I had no weapons, not that it would have made a difference, but it was all
in the effort, wasn’t it? All I could do was pray it was quick.
He stood straight, not making any threatening moves. Then he sank to one
knee and I gaped at him. “I have come to take you home… Empress.”
I felt my knees wobble and my whole body went numb. Empress? But that
meant… “No,” I whispered, leaned against the door for support, wanted to
softly, without taking his eyes off me and I knew, as he did, that Bellar had
The heat of rage and grief surged through my body and I trembled at the
effort to keep calm. My mother was dead. My mother was dead. “Why?” I
asked, my voice hoarse. I turned away from him, rested my head against the
door and slid down into a ball. Hot tears spilled over to trail down my pale
cheeks. I waved a hand, not wanting to know, but the Hunter, ever dutiful,
suggesting was that this was my fault. I agreed. I was the only direct Crown
Imperial left. Since only the Empress knew if I was dead or alive, Bellar would
85
see just one barrier to his ambitions: the Empress herself. Why hadn’t I
Then I remembered the look in her pure blue eyes when I made my
suggestion. I’d thought the weary grief was for my departure as was my own
regret; that her sorrow was for my lengthy absence. Now I could see it for
what it truly was: an acceptance that without me splitting his attention, one
“You are correct, m’lady,” the Hunter said as if reading my thoughts. “The
Empress thought that if she could deflect certain factions, it would give you a
measure of peace. Your absence would also be of benefit for you. She, and
all times.”
A sneer curled his lip as he held out a hand. “Come now.” He said with
derision. “We know who is responsible and we only await your command.
Yeah, he was right. We knew, but I, too, was complicit and forgiveness
would come hard; if ever. “I would have justice for this misdeed, Hunter. I
would have bloody and terrible justice for the machinations of my uncle.” I
could imagine Bellar on his knees, on his belly, begging for his life. I would
not give it. After all the years of his plots, his plans, his assassinations, his
arrogance and contempt for people, I would have his life for the lives of the
The Hunter helped me up and bowed his head. “As you command, my
lady, so shall it be done.” He accessed the comunit on his wrist. “Take him.”
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“No, my lady. I have contacted the ship Imperial Watch. They will send the
message to Verbarr. By the time we return, Bellar and his staff will have
disappeared from his estate.” He gave me a brief smile. “A… fire, m’lady, an
accident in the kitchens. He will be at the Imperial dungeon for your return.”
“And his daughter?” I asked. My voice had gone cold and resumed the
Imperial tone I had thought I’d left behind. The Imperial Watch was the
flagship of the fleet and hearing the name again tore away any façade of the
“The duchess will also be detained.” His eyes gleamed with triumph.
Bellarine’s disdain for people of a lesser stature was about to come back and
bite her.
I would have a week to grieve for my mother. By the time I returned home,
I would have to don the persona of Empress. But until then, I could be
“No, my lady. We did not do our job, otherwise, we would not be here. It is
our honour to serve you as we failed to serve the Empress Kerrian.” His eyes
light with a demonic fire. “Your justice will be ours and we will revel in it!”
We, I snorted. One of the first things I would do when I returned was purge
the Guard and Hunters. I would only have those who swore absolute fealty to
me, not the Empire. The days of deadly political intrigue were over. We would
“Make sure you do, Hunter, for there will be blood on the court floor
87
Mushrooms
“Retractor, Jeff.” Doctor Emma Hawthorne held out her gloved hand and
her assistant placed the instrument into it. She didn’t look at him, she’d
worked with him for long enough, they were a well-practiced, highly efficient
team.
Emma got to work cracking open the chest cavity and using the retractor to
expand the gap. The heart, pink, threaded by darker pink veins, was exposed.
In the centre of the organ was a tear; small, insidious and fatal. She leaned
forward and studied the small injury. There was a darker pink, almost black
smear along the edges of the wound. On closer inspection, she could see half
“You know, I don’t think this guy knew what hit him, but we’ll go with the
complete autopsy anyway.” She murmured and began cutting the major
“You’d think these people would learn to duck, but no, they have to go all
macho and expect bullets to bounce off them. Sad way to find out they don’t,
huh, Jeff?”
Jeff made no comment. All she could hear was his rapid breathing against
the facemask. Emma shrugged off his silence. As an assistant, he was damn
good, as a person outside of the morgue, he was shy, tight-lipped and, well,
socially inept. Sometimes that personality invaded the work area. Emma had
said, so his silence didn’t bother her. She just assumed it was going to be one
“This guy has more holes in him than a sieve. What did they use on him? A
chain gun or did they all decide to claim to have shot him.” She knew she was
terse, but this kind of slaughter always pissed her off. Once a guy was down
88
and dead, leave the poor bastard alone! It was de jour among the troops to
claim a kill just because an enemy soldier had fallen down. Of course, there
was the small matter of body count to ammunition expended. They could
prove they’d shot the soldier because, gee, lookee here, a bullet or two dozen.
Emma glanced up, down, then back to Jeff’s face. His skin was almost
translucent, his doe brown eyes wide as he stared down at the body.
“What’s up with you?” She asked a little impatient and lifted the heart out.
She slapped it onto a scale and looked up at the weight. “A little heavy, but
“Look.” Jeff whispered and cleared his throat. “Look, Emma. In the cavity!”
“Hmm, I wonder what I’ll see if I do look. Will I find more organs?” She
Emma froze. “Is that…?” She lifted her eyes to Jeff. He shrugged, slowly.
She found her eyes drawn to the alien thing resting on the dead man’s
spine, revealed when she took his heart. Her throat dried and she swallowed.
Sweat pearled on her forehead and a shiver of pure fear trickled down her
back.
“How does one get what looks like a mini nuke into a living man?” She
asked softly and stared down at the shiny, blood smeared silver cylinder.
There was a dent in the surface. From one of the needler bullets, she thought.
The whole thing was the size of her hand. “You do realise that if the bullet
had hit that dead on, or if I’d nicked it wrong, it would have…” Again they
“Yeah… I think that was the intent.” Jeff murmured, as if the very volume
of his voice would set the bomb off. “Load up your troops with nukes,
89
separate them and send them on a suicide mission. Make sure they’re in a
populated area and wait for the enemy to gun you down, taking, of course, a
Emma stared at him and pulled her pale green mask down. “How do you
Jeff tugged his own mask down, gave her a wan smile. “Just… stands to
reason, doesn’t it? Fear makes the mind work, oh, so much faster, don’t you
think?”
His cap had a thick patch of sweat across the forehead. As she watched, a
trail of moisture slid down the side of his face. He licked his lips and
swallowed. His eyes never left the body, as if he expected it to blow at any
moment.
“As you command, doctor.” He backed up towards the door and levered
Emma followed him out – backwards, her eyes on the cadaver. Of course, if
the bomb went off, it wouldn’t make any difference whether she was standing
next to the remains or in the office; or in the next building or one street over.
The whole area would have been one large and unattractive crater.
Still, when the door shut, the tension rushed out and relief surged into her.
“Holy fuck.” Jeff said and slumped into a chair in her office.
“I can categorically, unequivocally, agree with that.” She tugged off her cap
and reached out for her comunit. The local militaria were on speed dial and
90
“Captain, this is Doctor Emma Hawthorn over at the morgue.”
“Yes, Doctor, what can I do for you?” His voice cooled and an element of
distaste crept into his tone. Seems doctors who opened up the dead were less
Emma cleared her throat. “You’re boys dropped off a Kadizurite a couple
of hours ago.”
“Ahm, well.” She hedged, unsure of how to tell him about the bomb. It was
too…
pool on which bullet killed the bastard, so I’ll need verification of the weapon,
They had a… betting pool? On who killed him? What was wrong with these
people? It didn’t matter who killed him, only that he was dead; that some
mother was grieving for her son, a wife was mourning the loss of a husband,
children were confused and lonely from not seeing their father! Damn it!
“We have another problem, sir. He’s got a bomb inside of him. From what
we could tell, it’s a mini-nuke. I suggest you get someone over here to disarm
it.” She was about to disconnect then said: “What killed your man was lack of
oxygen to the brain.” She pressed the button and cut him off.
***
Emma’s finger rubbed the edge of the brandy glass. “You were right, Jeff.”
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She stared down into the rich amber liquid. “I spoke with Captain Hartog
before he went in. Seems a new thing for the Kadizurite militants. They have
their own surgeon implants the bombs and insert a sensitivity monitor. The
building, whatever and the shock will detonate the bomb. Same thing with
the bullets. That way, the suicide bomber can choose a passive or active
ending. Either way, they take as many people with them as possible.” She
“The bullet hit our bomb at just the right angle and disabled the sensitivity
unit. I cannot imagine what kind of a sick mind came up with this, but the
shooting people, then blowing themselves up and taking half the city with
them, sickens me to the very bones. No war is worth this, Jeff.” She gulped
the rest of her drink down and raised the empty glass.
The barman came over and poured more Brandy for her. “Thanks.” She
“That’s not the worst of it, Em.” Jeff finally said. It was the first thing he’d
“I would think that was bad enough. What could possibly be worse?”
Jeff drained his ale. “How about kidnapping civilians and inserting micro-
nukes.”
Jeff shook his head and unbuttoned his shirt. There, beneath his collarbone
Emma felt the hair all over her body stand on end. “Jeff…”
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“I can’t take it out, Em, that much was explained to me; it’s motion and
hits over the device and… It’s also on a timer.” His expression went sad. “So,
“A… a timer? And you thought to tell me now?” Emma slid off the stool.
He reached out a hand and cupped her cheek. “I wanted one more shift
with you. They granted that. I'm leaving now, to go and do...” He slowly
stood. "Well... something. I’m no hero, but maybe I’ll be able to do some good.
Take a walk in the desert, maybe, so I’m nowhere near civilians. " He lifted a
shoulder.
Emma’s eyes filled with tears and she clutched at his hand. “No, Jeff! I
could have taken it out, given the time! I could have neutralised it, spoken to
“Done nothing, Em, without killing yourself and a half million people, too.
And we both know that’s what would happen. There’s no time. I don’t want
He leaned down, brushed his mouth against hers. “One day, this war will
be over.” He gave her a wry smile. “Bye, Em, it’s been fun.” He said and
walked away. Emma watched him go, desperately trying to think how to save
him.
***
The Kadizurite leader leaned back against the rocks of his mountain home
and stared out across the plains. In the distance, he could see the city that he
would soon reclaim, whether it was still standing or not. This land belonged
to his people and he would not give it up to the invaders, no matter what they
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Humanitarian! Pah! He spat into the dirt. More like imperialism!
It was instinctive, perhaps that he lifted his head and saw the beginnings of
a mushroom cloud out by the edge of the city. To him, it was beautiful. The
That must have been one of the police stations, and the surrounding houses
of the traitors. Anyone who consorted with the invaders was a dog who
needed to be destroyed. And if his bombs killed the faithful, well, they died
He chuckled, laughed and shook his head. This new plan of his using
mules to destroy the invaders was brilliant. The best part was that no one
knew who a bomber might be. His name gave new meaning to the word
“My lord, I have captured another one for you.” He turned to his son and
grinned.
“Down at the morgue. I went to get Lario. To bring him back for a proper
burial and I bumped into this one.” He slapped the man on the back and the
captive winced. “He was all alone.” The son giggled. “So I took him.”
The leader smiled at him. “You seem familiar to me.” He narrowed his
eyes.
The captive grinned back and opened his shirt. “Yeah, sure, and you all
look alike to me, too. Go ahead and kill me now. I’m not doing anything for
Wiping the blood from his mouth, Jeff looked up at the son, then the
leader. “You wanna know what the worst thing about being a terrorist is?
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Yeah? Being terrorised right back. Problem is, you won't suffer like your
“Hell has a special place for assholes like you.” Jeff thumped his naked
***
In the city in the distance, Emma stood staring at the mountains, pressed
both hands to her chest and felt the surging grief as the mushroom cloud rose,
She watched until the night blotted the cloud from her view. "Bye, Jeff.
You'll always be in my heart." She whispered and blew a kiss towards the
mountains.
95
Eve of War
“Shalimar. Wake up!” Rick cupped his hands around his mouth. “Shalimar!!”
The woman merely stirred in her sleep, rolled onto her side and tucked a
hand under her jaw. Rick smiled down at her. She looked so… soft and gentle
in sleep; so exhausted.
“No good, Rick. C’mon, let’s go.” Harley tugged on his sleeve. He shook
“This is too important, Harl.” Rick murmured and crouched down to brush
“The sun rises, pal, and we know what happens then, don’t we.” She said
Rick sighed, his shoulders slumped and he rose to step away. The darkness
was being pushed back. He could see the outline of the trees’ foliage. Rick
lifted his eyes. Stars still sparkled in the night sky but there was a… silence, as
Harley was right: he had to go, but he’d be watching; unlike the supposed
guards of this camp who dozed at their posts. He shook his head in disgust
and sorrow.
“I’m aware of that, Rick, but bitching about it won’t get it done. And we
The fire in her eyes reflected her determination, her thirst for vengeance.
Whether they could achieve that was another matter; Shalimar was the key
96
Rick lifted a hand to his heart and rubbed his sternum. The ache in his
He forced himself to move away, to turn his head to the forest, to follow
Harley deeper into the forest where the sunlight was barely a memory.
***
“The Sprites will not help us.” Shalimar tossed a twig into the fire, her
frustration evident. The sun was low in the morning sky, but already the
forest was warming. She’d awoken feeling lost, alone and tearful; a dream of
“We must have allies, Shalimar!” Eaden growled. “The Aristocracy has to
“I know, Eaden, I know. I don’t want the outland to dry up anymore than
Eaden rose, paced in front of the fire. “Bastards! Control the weather,
control the water and you control the population.” He ran a hand through his
dark hair and stared off into the still green trees.
we can afford is here,” He turned in a circle, arms out to indicate the forest,
“around us, and precious little of it is edible.” Fists on his hips, he turned to
Shalimar. “Why won’t the Sprites help? We need them; they need us!”
“Gee, I wonder if it’s because you called yourself the ‘King of the Forest’?”
Shalimar pushed up from the ground and walked around the fire to him.
“It was a joke!” He protested and threw his hands up. “A bitter joke on me;
from corporate king-pin to forest dweller. Who knew they didn’t have a sense
of humour?”
97
“Rick knew.” Shalimar murmured and felt his name echo within her. She
Eaden grabbed her upper arms and dragged her to her feet. “Don’t you
Shalimar winced and lowered her head. Not from Eaden’s tight grip, but
“No, I don’t. Is he… okay?” She asked and looked into his eyes.
Eaden shook his head and dropped his hands. “I don’t know, Shalimar. I’m
an outcast, too, now, while he…” Eaden looked off into the forest, in the
She never saw him move, but her head rang from the punch to her jaw.
Shalimar blinked, stunned, her face throbbing as Eaden stood over her, his
“You will not mention it again.” He spat on the ground, between her knees,
Everyone in the camp had turned to watch. Shalimar couldn’t meet their
Slowly, she got to her feet, touched her mouth. It stung and her fingers
came away bloody. If that was the only damage she took in the coming
Without the Sprites and the other forest dwellers, their rebellion wouldn’t
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She lifted her eyes to the stark blue sky. With only humans, most of them
shielded city…
Shalimar looked away. This afternoon would be her last sunset; by the next
one, she would be dead. They’d have one last hurrah, then; one last attempt to
Her lip curled with self-condemnation. Free the world; like she was some
kind of superhero.
And after the rebels were slaughtered, the rest of the population would see
the folly in not supporting them. They would die slowly, painfully, pleading
and praying for the water that wouldn’t come. What did she care? She’d be
Shalimar went to her sleeping roll and drew her sword out of its leather
sheath. Time to make sure it was as sharp as a razor. If she was going to die,
***
“Oh, gee. Really?” Harley said, but didn’t look at him. Her focus was on
“We need to get her away from here, temporarily, Harley. I know I cannot
save her from her course.” He waved a hand around the encampment. “Nor
“Yada, yada, if they do not attack tomorrow, they never will and everyone
99
Harley got into his face, her expression tight. “Listen, pal, I want this as
much as you do. I want the head of that prick of a Lord Garia on a spike. Or a
Rick turned away from her and studied Shalimar; blocked out Harley’s
He lay down next to Shalimar, his lips caressed her ear. “Shalimar, wake
up, honey.”
“Rick.” She murmured and turned towards him; her eyes remained closed.
“Shalimar, I need you.” He said and kissed her ear, the ache in his heart
“Rick…” Her eyes slowly opened and he was struck by the pure emerald
coloured depths. She blinked at him, focused as he smiled. Her lips began to
lift…
Shalimar bolted upright; rubbed her eyes then slowly turned to him.
“You…” Her glance swept the camp site, but no one was awake. “You….
Rick sat up slowly and got to his feet. “Come with me, there is much to
“Shh. You’ll wake everyone and they’ll kill you!” Shalimar scrambled to her
feet.
“Oh, Rick!” She turned away so he couldn’t see what was in her expression.
100
“This won’t take long, Shalimar, I promise, but I must speak with you.” He
***
Five hundred metres from the camp, Shalimar saw Rick sit on a log and
turn his head toward the sky. His profile was similar to Eaden, with a high
“Ah, shit.” She muttered. A year away from this man and nothing had
changed. She never cared that he’d betrayed them to the Aristocracy, but she
wanted to know why before letting him go. She glanced back at the scowling
woman. She didn’t want to ask; it hurt her soul to ask, but… “Are you and
he…”
a nose, cold, crystal grey eyes and black, black short hair. She had a sharp
The woman shook her head and snorted with disgust. “Not even. I’m
doing this for revenge.” She growled. “Not anything touchy-feely.” Her lip
curled. “Besides, it’s you he has googly eyes for; no one else, not now, not
ever.” She came to a stop and sighed. “Go on, it’s important.”
Shalimar approached and sat cross-legged before him. “What is it, Rick?”
He lowered his head and stared at her with such love she had to look
away, a lump in her throat and pain in her heart. She wouldn’t betray her
comrades; surely he wouldn’t ask her to? If he did… that would be the final
101
betrayal. The one she couldn’t forgive no matter how much she loved this
man. She had to live or die with her decisions; he did not.
“Oh, honey.” He reached out with a hand, but didn’t touch her. “I wish… I
Her hands lifted towards him without thinking and he drew back, out of
“The Sprites are ready to parley.” He said and she stared at him. Business
first, then.
“They’ve refused Eaden.” She said and cleared her throat of the huskiness.
“No, sweetheart, but you understand their ways. They are well aware of
what’s going on, but their pride is such that they won’t deal with someone so
arrogant.”
Shalimar nodded over the surge of relief. Maybe they wouldn’t all die after
all. The hurt of his refusal to touch her remained and it took all her willpower
have stated that over and over again.” Shalimar got to her feet. “They would
prefer to stay hidden and wait until we destroy ourselves.” She said bitterly.
“Indeed. However, the Aristocracy will destroy the outland and protect
their own cities. The outland, if you recall, includes the land of Fairy, and
Sprite, and…”
“Demon, Elf, Vampire, Were… She gets it, Rick, move on!” The woman
called over.
102
Shalimar glanced at Rick’s companion. How could she hear them from
thirty metres away? Shalimar wondered, then put it down to the forest’s
“I don’t have much time, Shalimar, in fact, I should be going. I just wanted
“But…”
“No, Shalimar. Listen… go the Sprites, now. They represent all of the
Outland, by consensus. Speak to them. You’ll have their support and their
legions. The Aristrocracy will fall, but you must act quickly, before the sun
Shalimar threw up her hands. “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’ll… see you later?”
He gave her such a sad smile that she felt it all the way down to her very
core.
“Go, sweetheart and remember I love you. Ever and always.” He turned
“And I, you, Rick. Ever and always.” Shalimar murmured. On a sigh, she
turned and began walking towards the home of the Sprites, deeper in the
forest.
***
“You don’t look well rested at all, Shalimar.” Eaden walked over to the fire
Shalimar didn’t lift her head. The pre-dawn chilled her bones and the
warmth from the flames only seeped into the front of her. “The Outlanders
103
Shalimar lifted a shoulder. “I went and saw them last night. I had to try,
His smile was so much like Rick’s, she blurted: “Rick told me to go to
them.”
The smile vanished and he paled. “You… didn’t… You couldn’t have! By
with you. We have the allies we need.” Her grin was fierce. “We are gonna
But he wasn’t as cheerful as she expected; he simply rose and came to sit by
her side, threw an arm around her shoulders. Something he’d never done
before. In fact, he was positively averse to touching her. She thought it was
because of her relationship with his traitorous brother. Was it something else?
“Shalimar,” he said hoarsely and swallowed. “It couldn’t have been Rick.
He’s… he’s…” He sighed and hung his head. “Shalimar, you know my spy
She snorted. “Without them, we wouldn’t be able to even enter the city.”
“Sure.” She murmured and stared into the fire, saw it happen again. “Only
three of us knew of the complete plans to over throw the Aristocracy.” She
said quietly. Eaden didn’t interrupt as he, too, stared into the fire. “You, me
and Rick. When the troops arrived, Rick showed them where we were; he was
with them. You and I ran for it.” Her mouth twisted. “You had to drag me
away. I couldn’t believe what Rick had done.” She had been tainted by Rick’s
betrayal because of her relationship with him. It was to her shame that she
could have done something, anything to stop Rick, and had failed. Eaden had
escaped the mistrust due to his fiery relationship with his brother.
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“He knew everything, Shalimar, and thought that if the Aristocracy could
get me – his overbearing, arrogant, selfish brother - they’d spare you; he was
wrong. Lord Garia planned to murder us. Rick tried to trade me for you. They
caught him, Shalimar, tortured the truth out of him and he tried to make a
deal. And when we got away… they…” Eadon took a deep breath. “They
killed him, Shalimar. Rick is dead, and has been for a year.”
Shalimar shook off his arm. “What bullshit, I spoke with him last night!”
“I… I couldn’t tell you, Shalimar, I knew how much he meant to you; how
Shalimar shook her head. “You’re wrong, Eaden, I spoke with him; he told
me to go to the Sprites! He’s not dead!” Her voice rose and she pushed away
from Eaden. She stood and turned; smiled. “There, you see? He’s standing
right over near that burned stump!” She began walking towards Eaden’s
brother. “Rick! Tell him...” Then she saw it and stopped. The blood drained so
quickly from her head that she felt light-headed. She could… see through him
“I told you this was a bad idea.” Harley bit out. “Now, she knows!”
“Rick?” She asked again and staggered forward reaching out to him.
He stepped forward, nodded to his brother. “Eadon. You finally told her.”
“I did, brother.”
“Well, finally!” Rick grinned then looked at Shalimar and his smile faded.
“You died on me? For the past year, I had hope that you… that I… that
we…” Her voice jammed up in her throat and she couldn’t speak.
105
“You expected to die today, Shalimar, and I couldn’t let that happen.” Rick
said and reached out to her, cupped her jaw, though Shalimar only felt the
“God, Rick… without you? I can’t!” She fell to her knees, renew grief
softly, “and I wish it could have come at a better time, but honey? You know I
love you. I know you love me. But there is a greater love: that for the people;
all peoples.”
She lifted tear-flooded eyes. “The people won’t keep me warm at night or
His smile was sad and sweet. “When this is done, Shalimar, you’ll see the
value in what I say. Now, my warrior woman, go and kick some lordly butt.
Free this world. Destroy the weather machine and let the peoples live without
oppression.” He leaned in closer, and spoke for her ears alone. “Eaden will be
“He has loved you, too.” Rick’s eyes filled with glee. “What we had was
flash and spark; with him, you’ll have passion and a deep abiding love. I’ll be
“Be safe, Shalimar, I’ll be waiting for you.” He rose and nodded to his
“Farewell, brother.” Eaden reached out his hand, but he touched nothing.
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Rick’s image became more solid. “I love you, brother.” He grinned and
***
“Because if I didn’t plant the idea, Shalimar and Eaden would spend the
rest of their lives alone. Their love for me…” He shook his head. “Their love
for me would blind them to ever finding someone else; and no one, no one
“Oh, gee, and look who you’ve got as a companion shade? Did you ever
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The Winged Crown
Finrael rolled a rare gold coin over his knuckles and back again.
This coin was special to him, made for him by master craftsmen at the
behest of Her Majesty. Etched on one side, the Queen’s profile; on the other, a
ferret standing on his back paws, snout in the air, as if scenting prey. After
five years, it still made him smile. It was a measure of how Queen Tarrin
Ferrets were, after all, cunning, sly creatures who could wheedle their way
through the smallest of gaps. They were savage, too, but not adverse to a
Just like him, he chuckled. He wondered if the Queen knew he’d recognise
what she was trying to say? Wondered if, even now, she smiled to herself at
He lifted his eyes to the messenger, sitting across from him in this very
private booth and put the coin in his money pouch; the one he kept hidden at
his waist. Kenro was a trim, fit man, with a pointed black beard, clean-shaven
cheeks, slicked back hair, and deep blue eyes that watched Finrael’s every
move. He appeared at ease with his surroundings, but Finrael knew the
The Bowman’s Arms was Finrael’s turf in this small town, hamlet really,
with its dirt streets and grubby two dozen thatch-roofed cottages. It was nice
wooden doors lay hidden wealth. The people of this town - and others like it -
were his. The residents worked for him, lived for him and died for him. In
return, he gave them a percentage of his profits, enabling them to live in fine
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This man, though, leaned back against the scarred wooden booth, dressed
as if he wanted the peasants to know how wealthy he was, had no idea that
every single inhabitant of this hamlet had more money than he did. Tarrin
should have known better than to send a fop like Kenro. He’d been here a
“For the last time: What does the Queen wish of me?” Finrael asked with
aggrieved patience.
Kenro waved a negligent hand. “It is a small matter, really. It won’t take
“Of which, you’ve taken up more than I’m willing to part with.” He stood,
turned away and nodded to one of his henchmen. The hulk known as Bando
approached with lumbering slowness that belied his intelligence. Many a fool
He heard the thud of metal hitting wood and glanced down at the table.
Kenro had tossed a coin down. Fin felt the blood leave his face. He lifted his
hand and waved Bando off as he stared at the money, although ‘money’ was a
misnomer. This coin was old, tarnished to a deep golden colour as if dirt in
knew this piece, knew its’ legend. He thought it destroyed or lost. And now it
had returned.
Without taking his eyes off it, he slowly sat, reached out to touch it, but
“She thought you might recognise it.” Kenro smirked and Fin slowly lifted
his gaze so the man would not mistake how close he’d come to death. The
smirk faded and Kenro swallowed. “Er… I mean…” He took a hasty swallow
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of his ale and licked his lips, looked away to the few other patrons in the
Arms.
Fin stared down at the dark gold. A pair of wings faced him. A man’s
profile against the tabletop. He knew this because he’d held this coin in his
hand once before: when he’d helped Tarrin take the throne from her
paranoid, insanely brutal mother. And that had nearly ended in disaster.
He’d been given the coin in exchange for guarding a merchant’s train
through a corner of the neighbouring country, Tro. He’d thought the coin
pretty, interesting, and played with it. But then, he’d helped the Princess
Tarrin against assassins and court intrigue to ascend to the throne of Lath. At
every turn, it seemed they’d be murdered. Every plan he made dissolved into
disarray.
And then, one morning, he left the crown sitting on the window sill after
he’d shown it to Tarrin. That day had gone well, and those after, too, until he
recalled the coin and remembered where he’d left it. Once in his hand again,
danger surrounded them and he knew the coin was cursed. He’d thrown it
from the tower into the forest below. How had it come to be in Kenro’s
Fin touched the pad of his finger to the face of the coin. A subtle buzz ran
up his finger and into his hand before he withdrew. The coin knew him and
he suppressed a shudder.
“Where did the Queen get this?” He asked and raised his eyes to the man.
urgency.”
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Kenro abandoned his relaxed stance and leaned forward. “You know of the
prophecy, Finrael, you know the consequences if it comes true. She charges
Fin shook his head. Silly bitch. Didn’t she know that prophecies always
came true? Never in history had one failed, no matter how people tried to
“Yes.” Kenro hissed, earning him another glare. He didn’t back down,
however and Fin gave him points for courage. “There is no one else to do this.
You: the worst of the worst, a killer, a thief, a pimp and standover man. You,
“There are others to can do it, Kenro, and you know it.”
Kenro leaned closer. “Darik and his army are massing at the border. You
Fin felt his lips twist. Yes, he knew Darik. He used to run with the boy in
the wilds of Tro before Darik went to military school. “You mean Darik thinks
Kenro nodded and quoted the prophecy. “The Queendom of Lath shall fall.
From the west comes a man with a body of armour and lust for power in his heart. He
will throw down the bastion of women with blood and fire. Nevermore shall women
rule, for what remains is only servitude to the conqueror.” He said quietly.
Fin curled his lip. “Tarrin has closed off every border, armed every man;
reinforced every citadel. Darik will fail, as his father did before him, and his
father before him.” Finrael said. “What makes you think this time is any
different?”
surface, “frightened her enough to send it to you.” He shook his head. “The
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prophecy is not so old as to be forgotten. I remember my great grandfather
speaking of it in hushed tones, and heard it from his own great grandfather.
Everything that is happening now, has happened before. Who’s to say this
“Do you remember the rest of the prophecy?” Fin asked. “That the offender
“Darik thinks he’s the one because his father tossed him out for failing
school. To Morik, that was unconscionable given that Darik was the first in
“Oh, boy.” Finrael narrowed his eyes. “Does the Queen not see this a
Morik’s way of forcing the prophecy? That everything Morik and Darik have
Kenro shook his head. “I don’t know what the Queen is thinking; I’m only
her messenger.”
“For a smart woman, she can be remarkably dumb sometimes.” Fin leaned
back and drummed his fingers on the tabletop. Tarrin, he thought, was not as
“Then think on this: if I kill Darik, there will be a battle for the throne of
Tro. Whoever wins will be an outsider and probably have the same attitude
towards the prophecy as Darik and his father. It will not stop the prophecy,
nor even delay it. It might even play into the prophecy. Have you or she
thought of that? These prophecies are always vague for that very reason. You
can put whatever interpretation on it as you like. If one man fails, then you
can say, ‘oh, so it wasn’t him after all.’ Then you get to wait for the next mutt
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who thinks the prophecy is about him. It will not stop. Not now, not a
Kenro shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know what to say. I know what you
say is true. But the Queen wants this. She feels it’s the only way to ensure
peace in our time. It will take years for Tro to stabilise if left without a
inopportune moments. He had business to attend to, now Tarrin wanted him
to run off and murder his childhood friend who – through his father’s urgings
But. The coin. It knew him. Surely that meant something? Maybe it was just
old magic that filled it, kept it and the prophecy alive. Hmmm, there’s a
thought.
“Return to the Queen. Tell her she’ll have her answer before dawn.” He
made a shooing motion and Kenro rose, uncertainty on his face. “Leave now
“Sir?”
***
Fin read what Bando had found for him and smiled.
“It was remarkably easy to find the information, sir.” Bando said quietly.
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“Indeed, you have my thanks. Now, sit in the corner and write down
hide in. Fin watched as the big man settled himself with parchment and quill.
Bando cleared his throat and eased into a still position. If you weren’t looking
The fire was hot, the crucible ready and Fin dropped the coin in. The metal
began to soften, sank into the contours of the cup. The wings held their shape
A column of smoke drifted up, but it wasn’t ordinary smoke. This held a
shape that coalesced into a man dressed in robes. The smoke thickened until
almost solid and Finrael could see the features of a white bearded man in
black robes.
“Ah, the late and unlamented wizard, Jastro.” Finrael smiled benignly.
“Sheer bloody arrogance on your part, wizard, the buzz of magic in the
coin and a good deal of research. You were looking for the right man to fulfil
your plan of destroying Lath, as Lath once destroyed you. If I’d gone to kill
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“I thought it could have been you. You’re nothing but filth for what you do
to your own people. If anyone could rid this world of the bitch queens, it
would have been you. You could have ruled this world. Killed Darik and
“Now that you will shortly be truly dead, the prophecy has no sway. It is
now nothing more than a poem, a poor one at that, written by you to forment
mischief.” Fin tilted his head and chuckled. “Fancy that? Your fear-ridden
“You said prophecies always come true. What makes you think this one is
Fin shrugged. “I don’t. I believe what I said. But you and I both know it
wasn’t a prophecy, but the rantings and threats of an old man thwarted by the
first Queen of Lath, the Witch Queen, I believe. Someone picked it up and the
coin you’d magicked yourself into and thought ‘gosh, a prophecy!’ And
history did the rest, or will be once another story is spread across the land;
one that begins with a cursed coin and ends with the cleansing of that coin.”
“One more thing before you take off for Hell, wizard. I may be a mobster,
the filth of the earth, a killer, thief and the Gods know what else. But.” Fin
held up a finger. “And it’s a big one. The current bitch queen? She’s my wife.
We rule Lath together: her, as the face of respectability, and me, as the face of
the underworld. Together we make Lath great: Two sides of the coin creating
a balance and filling the needs of all citizens, not just the law abiding. Your
because she doesn’t rule on her own. You might want to think about during
eternity.”
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The wizard was still gaping at him as the smoke dissipated and
“Get all that?” Fin turned to his henchman. Bando nodded as he finished
the last sentence. “Great. Now you can spread that story.”
Fin turned to the west and stared out into the night through the open doors
of the forge. “Let’s hope the news gets through in time.” He murmured.
“Aye.” Bando agreed and packed up his tools, strode away with a purpose.
All Fin could do now was wait. Bando would do his best. He was a
storyteller, not just a friend and body guard to Fin – Fin didn’t need one, but
it was expected that a mobster would have one – and he would make sure as
He would soon know if Bando succeeded: the watch fires of Lath would
remain unlit and Darik and his army would depart. If Bando failed, the
warning flares would be lit, sending explosions into the sky and Darik was on
He and Tarrin would have to make other plans if that happened, but for
now he’d keep his own watch. He used tongs to lift the crucible off the fire. In
the bottom was a puddle of gold. He tipped it into the cool water, eased back
from the rising steam and spitting water, waited for the gold to cool before
***
It was a week before he saw the distant glow of the fires in the blackness.
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Music Box
“Well, that didn’t go well.” Rocheros muttered and twisted around, stared
at the swirling colours of the four walls, the ceiling and floor. Rainbows of
“Nope, not well at all.” Walder agreed and stamped his pink slippered
foot. Colours fanned out, rippled across the floor, up the walls and into the
Rocheros rolled his eyes. “That’s wizard-speak for ‘I don’t know’, isn’t it.”
“Mostly.”
“‘Mostly’? What does that mean? It’s your fault we’re in here!”
“Partly.” Walder said and rubbed his chin. Rocheros could hear the rasp of
bristles and looked around again. The colours were making him nauseous.
He shook his head. Blinked. “‘Partly’. ‘Mostly’. Is that all you can say?”
“Generally.”
“Walder. We are stuck inside a cube the size of a toaster oven. We need to
get out of it!” He loosened his tie. Was the air getting thin in here? Warmer? “I
“Calm down. I’ll get us out, I promise.” Walder smirked. “Am I not the
wall in front of him and touched it. The rainbows spread out, bounced off
other rainbows, rippled around until he had to close his eyes against the
vertigo. The wall itself was luke-warm, not the cool he’d expected.
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“We’re in a magical item.” Walder said from behind him.
“Again, no surprise there.” Rocheros brushed his hand over the surface.
There was a vague roughness, almost like scraping against fine sand.
“My point is that only a powerful spell can get us out of here.” Walder said
happily.
“Great.” He dropped his hand and turned to the magician. “Okay O Great
Walder clicked his tongue. “It’s not that simple, my boy. I need things, I
“Get on with it! I have a meeting in…” Rocheros checked his watch, but it
Walder gave an aggrieved sigh and sat down. The rainbows rippled
While Walder meditated, Rocheros walked around the cube. It should have
been simple: a legendary, magical cube that allegedly could change time:
backward and forward. A time capsule, and his excitement and greed knew
continued to walk the walls. It should have been easy to go back in time and
adjust things that he’d done, things that he’d said. If it had worked, he would
be much richer and happily married with the required two children with
grandeur. He could see that now. The only way to get ahead in life was to
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work for it, and not try to take short cuts. He should have known: any time he
Well, he was well and truly lost now, just not geographically. He slumped
down in a corner and watched the wizard. Walder was a highly respected
wizard. Rocheros shook his head. World’s greatest magician, he sneered and
undid the top two buttons on his shirt. Damn, it was getting warmer in here. He
closed his eyes and waited, draped his jacket across his lap.
Rocheros jerked awake. He hadn’t thought he’d be able to sleep. How could
he? He must have slept for a while, though. The thirst didn’t sneak up on him,
it clubbed him until he thought he would simply dry up and blow away; if
there had been a breeze. He smacked his lips. A big glass of beer, yeah, that’s
Rocheros felt vibrations buzz through his buttocks. His skin tingled
unpleasantly and he jumped to his feet. Jesus! Now he could feel the
“What the hell are you doing?” He demanded, but the wizard made no
Rocheros stared at the old man. Was it his imagination or was the wizard…
He walked to the spot, the colours rippling out from where Walder
vanished. His hands brushed over the spot but nothing remained. The
rainbow continued to flicker outwards from his hand, from his knees. “Where
are you?!” He shouted and ran his hand across the floor again. “Walder!”
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“Hummm,” came a sonorous voice. The rainbow reacted, colouring every
wizard. He didn’t know any magical words or spells and it sure as hell wasn’t
“Hummm.” The word lengthened and the lines of the rainbow softened,
Rocheros sat where the wizard had, closed his eyes and hummed a ditty.
“Hum.”
Rocheros blew out a breath, crossed his legs and closed his eyes. “Hum.
Right.”
“Hum.”
He caught the end of the word and repeated it in the same low tone, kept
the note until he had to take another breath. It was almost as if the single note
was inside him, around him, was him and he felt the tension ease out of his
shoulders. He kept doing it even when he felt cool air brush across his cheeks.
Rocheros kept humming while he slowly opened his eyes. And abruptly
stopped.
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He was sitting cross-legged on the floor of his kitchen. Rocheros cleared his
throat and rose. His legs ached, but it looked like his own kitchen. Nothing
had changed. There was his faux-brushed steel fridge, his laminated granite-
pattern topped counters, the windows overlooking the park, bank statements
and bills stuck under a rock on the counter, and the accursed cube sitting,
“Good thing you’re not tone deaf.” Walder said from behind him and he
jumped.
Rocheros nodded.
“So, how about some coffee?” The wizard asked. “Or perhaps I could…”
“No! God, no.” He gripped the old man by his arms. “I’ve learned my
lesson. I’ll work at being a success; I won’t try any more short cuts. I
picked the cube up, brought it back and handed it to the magician. “Here,
“Take it.”
Walder hummed a few bars from a commercial. The outside of the box lit
“Send me a bill for your troubles, Walder, I’ll try to pay you, but…”
Walder sent him a warm smile. “Oh, I have no doubt about that, Mr
Rocheros did as asked and swallowed a gasp. The brushed steel fridge was
genuine, not one with brushed laminate surface. The granite tops, when he
touched them, were real, too. He went to the window. He was much higher
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up than he expected. He went to the stack of papers, lifted the rock. The top
course.”
“Token?” Rocheros turned his stunned mind to what Walder was saying.
“Sure. You gift me with one of the most precious items in wizardom, it
would be churlish of me not give you some reward. I’m sure you can take it
from here.” He held out the box. “Beloche’s Music Box. For soothing souls
he and the box slowly disappeared. “Good luck, Roch, I’m sure you’ll be
happier now. That’s what music does, you know, it makes people… happy.”
Rocheros stared at the empty spot and wondered who or what the wizard
was. But, he snorted, he knew: he was Walder, the World’s Greatest Magician.
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Ambassador Demon
“You must understand, gentle fem, that what you ask is impossible.”
the briefing file. He was, if you’d been a nineteenth century religious zealot, a
His flesh gleamed with the colours of sunset, rippling through gold, scarlet,
reds and yellows. Not mottled, but flowing, like silken water. My hand
twitched as if to touch him, to see if his skin was as hot as the colours and I
His head was human like, if you ignored the curling and ridged, black
horns that sprang from the sides of his forehead, the long, aristocratic and
human nose and the full-lipped mouth that covered spiked teeth. His jaw
flexed with strength, square with a dimpled chin. His hair flowed black and
curling down to his shoulders. The Hadean’s eyes were fire, flickering with
moving light, mesmerising. And his voice, deep, sensual, sliding over and
through a tunnel, lit by the walls that pulsed with red and yellow light
questions.”
His laugh was a rumble, deep in his naked and well-muscled chest. If you
came from a hot planet, you would dispense with clothes, too. He wore a very
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short skirt that rode low on his hips, and almost obscenely high on muscled
thighs. The material gleamed wetly, but I was not so bold to touch it and find
out.
“I have heard it said that on your planet, a diplomat is someone who will
tell you to go to hell in such a manner that you will look forward to the trip.”
My smile was short, pained, at the cliché. “I’m sure they do, Ambassador,
He clasped his six digit hands behind his back, his clawed feet clicking
I let the comment slide. This mission was too important to take his attempt
at friendliness as an affront.
“Surely, we have time for small talk, before we get down to business?” He
I glanced at him again, puzzled. Up ahead lay the answer to Earth’s water
problems. The question of whether the Hadeans would share that technology
was paramount. Earth did not have time for ‘small talk’. Even as we walked
the corridor, humans were dying of thirst; the desert in the centre of Europe
was expanding and would, in a few years, join with the Russian desert. Only
the coastal fringes of the continents were still fertile enough for crops.
offended the only man capable of influencing his Prime to allow us the
machine.
murmured.
Bezaroth’s laugh rumbled out again. “I did not mean to make you
uncomfortable.”
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I shook my head. “I’m sorry. This mission is too important to us.” I drew in
a tiny breath and silently cursed. Never give any advantage away at the
negotiation table. That was one of my first lessons and I had no excuse. “I
His fiery eyes looked down at me, solemn, knowing. “I know what you
meant. You have no need to twist your own words; I already know that you
interrupted, the flame in his eyes expanding. I knew that it meant desire and I
meaningful, and it was offensive to point out such differences. The Hadeans
did think it significant, though not through any racist ideology. Pale Hadeans
blistered under the heat of their world unless protected. Hadean children
didn’t acquire the lush, vibrant colours until puberty. They lived in cooler
quarters, kept away from the main population; darker Hadeans, the briefing
read, were outcasts, considered diseased and separated from the main
compatible, species. At least they accepted the offspring, not like some other
but I tried to take his remark in the spirit it was meant. “Thank you,
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Up ahead, I saw the massive five-metre tall stone doors that led into the
machine room. This was what I had travelled a hundred light years for and I
swallowed. The hopes, dreams and future of Earth lay behind those doors.
fem. The same shade of hair as the night sky and yet your eyes are the cool,
“I am, how did one of your guards put it? As cold in appearance as a dead
fire.” I felt him tense beside me. “I understand that is quite an insult.”
“Yesss.” The words hissed between his sharp teeth. “I would do much to
“Yes,” he replied, “but not everything. To say what was said is to suggest
you are without life, without purpose, that you are nothing but an irritant
fertiliser – there is a purpose – and mixed with soil, it creates new life; it is a
sign of renewal.”
He stopped at the doors and turned to me, the flame in his eyes the flicker
of interest. “We have no use for ash. It is an intriguing concept you present.”
His gaze rested on my face for a moment as if trying to follow my logic. “It
bears future exploration.” He said softly, but his words had a double meaning
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I stared at the door, willing him to turn away from me. It was an effort not
to return his interest. “Just so,” he murmured and faced the doors, “just so.”
He put his broad hands on the panels and shoved hard. The stones
cooled itself, created water enough for the Hadeans to survive on this hot
world.
The door edges separated and a gust of warm humid air breathed through
the gap to dampen my face. I closed my eyes, enjoying the moisture after the
The room was cavernous, silent but for the drip of water into a multitude
of puddles on the roughly hewn stone floor and an odd squeaking sound. In
the centre was an incredible plant. Verdant green and so lush, the breeze
pushed the leaves together. That was the squeaking: the thick leaves rubbing
We walked in, my eyes wide on the plant’s abundant foliage. It was so big I
couldn’t see the top of it and it was at least twenty metres in diameter.
“But… the machine…” I breathed in the moist air, fragrant with the
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“Is Hades herself.” He reached out and touched a leaf. It curled backwards,
a yellow spot appearing where Bezaroth had brushed the surface. “As you
can see, it cannot stand to be touched. There are many, many more of the
Seraph Plants on Hades. It is they who make life here possible and they refuse
transplanting. Cuttings die, no matter what we do. They are a power unto
I felt my shoulders slump. I had come all this way and I would get no
result. My own planet would wither and die, like an unwatered vine. The
mission of mercy was for nothing. Worse, I suspected the Hadeans had lied to
The foliage muted my bitter laugh. “Mother Nature at her finest.” I said
and his brows lowered in puzzlement. I waved his unspoken question away.
“I can see by the translucence of your skin that you are upset. I did not
mean to cause such anguish. I only wished to impress upon you the unique
nature of this world.” His clawed hand reached out to touch me; and I let him
brush the skin of my upper arm. The claws were sharp, but the very
gentleness of his touch made me want to weep. It was a caress, nothing more
“No, Ambassador. It is not you who caused this vain hope, but generations
of my own people with their arrogance in thinking the Earth would always be
able to fix herself. They were wrong. And in assuming that, they have
comfortable. I would speak to you about your problem and how it can be
reversed.” He was comforting, soothing and sad. But his voice held an
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“Our best scientist have determined that there is no solution; that we must
him to wrap his hand around my arm and escort me out of the room. His
palm was smooth, warm, almost hot, but pleasantly so and I stepped closer to
“Of course. But, gentle fem, your scientists are limited by what they know.
“In your own way, yes. You have something and nearly destroyed it; now
you want more of the same thing without learning how not to make the same
mistakes. I think it is time humans learned the value of what is given them.”
He released my arm at the door and turned to grab the hand inserts at the
door. With a mighty heave he closed one, then the other door. I couldn’t help
but watch the display of rippling muscles in his back and wonder what the
Bezaroth turned and ran a hand over his chest as he saw my expression. I
The rumbling laugh came out again and I stared at his chest, unwilling to
see the flickering flames in his eyes. “Ah, gentle fem, you humans are so
restricted by propriety. You are most child-like, charming as only a babe can
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I tilted my head. “I’m wondering if I should be insulted by that remark on
behalf of my race.”
“No, indeed not. For like a child, you are also open to the learning and
can only admire. It is the tantrums we fear most.” He gave me a courtly bow
“We are a much, much older race than humans and somewhat staid in our
ways. The Hadeans may be able to teach you a many technical things, but
you... you can teach us on a more... intimate level.” His voice held a promise
have a solution for you.” His eyes flickered with heat. “Then we can
negotiate.”
130
Death Or Taxes
“Madre Dios!” Came the soft cry and Angela looked up from her seat on the
ornate wooden staircase of the Rothschild estate. The middle-aged and fleshy
woman before her was genuflecting so hard she looked like she was swatting
flies.
“Infanta el Diablo, actually,” she replied with a smile and smoothed a hand
down her long midnight hair, from crown to tip. She crossed her pale hands
over one another on top of the narrow black briefcase resting on her lap.
The woman backed up to the double glassed doors and closed them,
sputtering in Spanish.
“English, Mrs Rodriguez, you must speak English.” Angela shot the cuffs
of her Armani suit jacket and moved her knees to the side to examine her
“Now, now, Mrs Rodriguez, you know your taxes are due and well, I’m
here to collect.” Her words brought the torrent of words to a sudden halt and
“Devil child! You no take Pilar! My girl, she good girl! You no take her!”
“Of course not, Mrs Rodriguez. How could I tax something that I own? No,
Maria took a hesitant step forward, a scowl emphasising the lines on her
flabby face. “Pilar is safe from you?” She asked and took another step
forward.
“Well, yes, until it is her time to go, of course. Or she does something…
foolish.”
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Maria nodded, her grey-streaked brown hair bouncing.
“I should never have bargained with you.” Maria spat and walked to the
staircase, slowly mounting them until she was level with Angela. With a sigh,
she sat down. Angela shifted aside to give the large woman room.
“I’m aware of your history. I’m aware of everyone’s history. Father was a
“Eh?” Maria turned a puzzled glance to her and Angela leaned on the
staircase railing.
“You do remember that it has been two thousand years since the Vatican
“Well, then. You must abide by that deal. To buy your way into Heaven,
you must deal with the Devil. That’s me, or, at least, I’m the representative.
The Pope and the Cardinals all agreed in the profit sharing venture. They get
your souls if you’ve been good, we get them if you’ve been bad. To offset
the… discrepancy in profit earnings, we get to tax you, while the Church gets
“It’s not your fault that the Vatican never really took us seriously. It’s not
your fault that they had spread the story about the Devil’s playground to
ensure obedience of parishioners. For all their grab for power, they never
understood we were as real as they. Now, they do.” She tapped her long,
patrician nose, black eyes dancing with humour. “But don’t worry. If you
think the higher ups in the Church are going to Heaven because they saved
all those souls, well, I let you into a little secret.” She leaned towards Maria.
“They’re not taking the Stairway to Heaven; they are taking the Slide down to
Hell.”
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Maria gasped, her face squishing together, her mouth tight, her eyes all but
“That’s right. They sold you lot out to us. That does not deserve reward; it
deserves punishment. And we’re very creative.” Angela sighed with pleasure.
“It gives me a warm fuzzy feeling that, you know. Manipulation, coercion,
psychological threats of damnation, are all skills we look for in souls. And the
Maria wrung her hands together and said nothing. Her skin was pale with
a sheen of sweat that Angela hoped wouldn’t drip onto her suit. The sour
smell was bad enough. Time to get business out of the way.
“And so to your tax bill.” Angela opened the suitcase. Papers glowed a
“Now, then.” She pretended to read. She knew what it said; she’d written
it. “Pilar, it seems, is addicted to Papal bread and sacrament wine. Tsk. Such a
good Catholic girl. It’s going to be expensive. You should tell your Church to
“My girl, she good girl.” Maria muttered. “My girl is good girl. She take her
vows!”
“Of course, the better she is, the more profit we make.” Angela ignored the
“Coming and going.” Maria stated. “You get us coming and going!”
“And isn’t it a wonderful thing?” Angela laughed and turned her gaze to
the glowing paper. “Your bill is for twenty-three thousand, seven hundred
and forty-nine dollars and fifty-two cents.” She presented the paper with a
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“I can no pay that! Cheat! Liar! Thief!” Maria flung herself down the stairs
“Why, thank you, but flattery will not get the bill paid.”
“We can, of course, repossess Pilar or you for that matter for non-
“To whom, dear woman?” Angela laid the sheet on the stair and closed her
case. “The Age of Litigation is what led to the Vatican’s deal. You can only
All expression left Angela’s face. “Is that your final decision? Make very,
very sure of it. You either pay in coin or you pay in blood, Mrs Rodriguez.”
Maria started to shake and Angela frowned. All that flesh and fat wobbling
couldn’t be a good thing. “Are you alright, Mrs Rodriguez?” She asked. It
“What you care?” Maria said, her breath coming out in wheezy huffs.
“I can make you a deal.” Angela moved further down the staircase. Smoke
rose from where she’d sat and from under her feet, the smell of brimstone
wafted into the air. Damn it. She looked down. She’d have to buy another pair
of shoes and skirt. Bloody Holy water. Too many civilians were using Holy
items these days to keep the devils at bay. She’d have words with the Bishops
about this… and then present the bill for new shoes and clothes. Hmm, I like
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“Yes. Your bill must be paid. You took on the responsibility when your
prayers were answered and a child was born. We took surety from you via
our agent. Father Mendez, remember him? He was the priest with whom you
The woman's nod was shaky. “Okay. You understand then. We have to get
a return on our investment. Pilar is about to take Holy Orders. That puts her,
for the moment, out of our purview. You were the guarantor of her life. While
she has no income of her own, you guaranteed the taxes upon her life. You
“I… he… lied to me! A priest, consecrated to God, lied to me! He said once
she took her vows, no one could touch her! Or me. I gave her to the church!”
“He’s our agent. Of course he lied to you. It is not our responsibility to tell
the truth, that’s just…” Angela tilted her head, “wrong, on so many levels.
And you.” Angela pointed a sharp fingernail at Maria. “Had no right to give
away a life to anyone. It had to be her choice, not yours.” A smirk appeared.
“Bad Maria, for giving away something that wasn’t yours. And now you
understand why all those Popes and Cardinals are currently enjoying the
“And you thought it was just a classical song. Heh. Nope.” Her smile
slowly slid away. “There are two ways to go with this: Death or Taxes. Your
choices, contestant number one, are these: Pilar’s death and your taxes for the
outstanding amount; or behind door number two: your death and we tax
Pilar until the outstanding debt is paid, with compound interest, of course.”
Maria sat on the bottom step, her breath wheezing in and out and held a
hand to her chest. “I cannot pay it. I am housemaid. Pilar made her own
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choice, I just encouraged her.” She murmured. “I’m to be punished for being a
Angela’s lips twisted in dismay. The one question she didn’t want to
Her hand clasped around the handle of the briefcase and stared at her
smoking shoes. When she lifted her gaze, Maria was standing, facing her,
hands clamped in front of her and a triumphant smile on her face. “You have
me, then, Infanta. Pilar is good girl, she not be corrupted. She go to Heaven.
Me, I live good life, I am ill. I no fear you. I go to Heaven, too. I raise my girl
right.” She spread her arms wide and there was a bright flash with no sound.
Angela threw up her arm to protect her eyes from white burst. In the silence,
“Bugger.” She said softly. “Death and Taxes, no matter which one they pick,
“Not so, Angela,” a bell-like voice said from behind her and she turned, “we
simply… facilitate. Death, well, there’s an end to it. Taxes, we simply upgrade
“Lucy; long time, no see.” Angela gave the angel a twisted smile. “How’s
“I’d snicker, but it’s beneath me.” The blonde haired, blue-eyed angel said.
“Yeah, but it’s too good a joke to waste. I came to tell you about the
remuneration package.”
“Yeah?”
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“Mrs Rodriguez used the same priest as a witness for her will. With Pilar
taking her Holy vows, she’s refused everything from her mother. So, we get
Maria’s soul, you get her estate. Profit sharing all around, I'd say.”
Angela smiled, though the loss of a client to upstairs stung she could always
“Uh, uh,” Lucy raised an admonishing finger. “The deal is done, Ange.
Angela chuckled. “Oh, alright, damn it! Pilar’s safe… until she trips up.”
She held out her hand but Lucy waved it away. “You’re smoking too much,
Ange, I don’t want to mess up my manicure. Let’s just say all is well above
and below.”
“Great!” Angela rolled her eyes. “Sure. Nice doing business with you, Lucy.
Oh, by the way? You have a smudge on your wing. See you next time.”
Angela vanished in a puff of black smoke and brimstone. Lucy waved the
pungent haze away. She checked her wings. “Bitch.” She sniffed and brushed
a hand down the side of the left wing to remove the taint, waved a hand over
The sheet’s red glow faded until the paper was a pastel pink. White lettering
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Part Four
138
Pax Britannia
“You’re surrounded, so don’t make a move or we’ll kill you where you
I slowly turned in a circle, saw the uniformed guards with strange looking
sticks on the tiers of the arena. As I watched, more guards appeared. There
All I wanted was to discuss this war with the government of Atrea; to stop
the killing and negotiate a peace between this world and Yerin.
“Throw down your arms and raise your hands!” The guard bellowed and I
Mutt? What was a ‘mutt’? Was it a derogatory term? If so, why? I had
different? I was taller than these people, yes, but it wasn’t that uncommon. I
had slightly different colouring, with very short black hair, uptilted dark blue
eyes and a body my creator described as ‘buxom, but slim and firm’. Did all
The guards on the lower tiers stepped cautiously down onto the field. Since
I was the only one standing in the middle of the green-coated area, I assumed
they thought I would do something… deadly. I did not. I simply waited until
the humans formed a circle around me, some twenty metons from me.
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One guard barged through the crowd, holding a little stick, pointing it at
me; at my head. I studied him. He was red-faced with anger, his mouth a tight
line of determination. He didn’t appear to be a fit human, not with that belly
overhanging his belt, but his steps were confident. He stopped in front of me.
fighting.”
“Yeah, sure, tell it to the judge.” He kept his red-rimmed eyes on me, but
addressed his troops. “Keep an eye on her while I cuff the mutt.”
He tugged silver bracelets off his belt. “Turn around, hands behind your
back.” He growled.
“I’m gonna seal your hands together, what else, you stupid mutt.”
“My name is Pax Britannia and I don’t want to be ‘cuffed’ as you say.”
The man laughed at me. “I don’t care if you’re Holy Moses! I’m gonna cuff
you!”
As my creator often said: Violence is the last resort, but for some people, it
should be the first; use the judgement I have given you to find the way.
I tried again, hoping this wasn’t the scenario he’d painted for me. “Take me
to your leader.”
His mouth split in a broad smile and I thought I’d finally got through to
“Oh, you’ll see a leader, but not the one you probably imagine. Now do as
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I looked around at the circle of blank-faced men. I could see they had no
ordered. My eyes went to the sky and saw the clouds gather in the pale lilac
heavens. I did not want to act, and yet, if I did not, my mission would fail
before it started.
“Sir?” I said gently. “I do not wish to hurt you or your men, but please, you
His reply was to put the end of the stick to my forehead and press in
against my skin. “One last time, and I’ll speak slowly so you understand: turn
around and put your hands behind your back, or I’ll spread your tiny brain
projectile weapon. He knew not what or who I was, but that did not matter to
My eyes rolled upwards to the black weapon, and then back to him. “If it is
His ruddy face blanched white and the stick trembled. “You bombed up?”
but he moved his hand and struck me on the side of the face.
My head jerked sideways, but I did not move. The area stung where he’d
split the flesh over my cheekbone and I could feel the red fluid called ‘blood’
I may have been created illegally, but that did not mean I was to be treated
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I saw his fist come towards me, but in slow motion. I had all the time in the
world to stop his strike; and did so. My fingers curled around his fist and
squeezed.
My other hand reached up into the sky. Feel the power of the lightning, I
heard my creator’s voice in my head from the training he’d given me.
I twisted the man’s fist until he went down on his knees. I stepped back,
heard the rumble of thunder then the ear-shattering snap as the bolt of
I reached out my other hand to the ground and made it tremble, lifted a
wave of dirt and pushed it towards the troops. Some panicked and fired at
me, but the dirt absorbed their shots, the lightning blocked the charges.
Others simply turned and ran. I let them. I was not here to kill, merely
persuade.
melted in the hands that held them; every piece of metal melted: buttons, belt
The charge left me and I lowered my hand. The earth settled and I turned
His eyes glazed over as he stared at me. I had not caused him lasting
damage, so why did he curl around his fist like that? His breathing was harsh,
shoulder.
Feel the energy of the cadecaus; draw the warmth from Mother Earth’s Heart.
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I focused on healing the man; he was riven with disease, stank of rot, but I
And when it was done, he still glared at me. “Alien mutt.” He sneered.
This man was not worthy of the gift, but I could not take it back.
“I will speak to the government. You would do well to either guide me, or
stay out of my way.” I walked away from him; didn’t turn back, and I should
have.
The blast from his weapon caught me square in the middle of my back and
Cuffed. Me!
A meaty hand clamped down on the back of my neck and leaned in, his
hot, fetid breath close to my ear. “I don’t give a shit who or what the fuck you
are, my job is to protect the citizens of this world, and by God, I will.”
“That you should have, but you give me any trouble, I will blow your
“That you won’t, you miserable war-monger.” Feel the strength of steel. I
rolled him off me and he fired as he lost his balance. The projectile pinged off
my back.
I got to my feet, the man firing his weapon at me as he did fell sideways. I
broke the cuffs and then plucked the thing out of his hands, crushed it.
“I am done with you.” I said and looked into the sky. Feel the lightness of the
air, the swiftness of the raptor. And I rose off the ground. I hovered there and
regarded the man as he climbed to his feet. “Your people will be at peace
whether you wish it or no. As with the Yerin, so it will be with Atrea.”
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With that, I rose into the sky to search for the government building.
Obviously, my mistake was that this world did not govern in an open forum,
My creator gave me much: the ability to draw power from planets. I am, so
far, invulnerable. I am also, unfortunately, new to life and must learn new
ways and that will take time. But I also have a mission: to bring peace where
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The Hunt
The constant trickle of stinking water was getting on her nerves. Raisa
thought she’d be used it by now, but the smell strengthened, grew worse. She
didn’t want to reach for the mask, though; that would limit one of her senses.
“Sometimes, I hate this job.” She said through tight lips, lest the air touched
her tongue. The stench was bad enough; tasting it would be worse.
“Me, too.” Her partner, Ches, said cheerfully behind her and she silently
sneered. “But he’s got to be down here somewhere. It’s the only place he could
be.”
Raisa glanced back at him. His teeth gleamed white in the gloomy
subterranean sewer as he grinned at her. She couldn’t see the rest of his face,
Ches, much to her annoyance, enjoyed every extermination job they did, no
matter what he said. If he would argue with her once in a while, she’d respect
him more. But as the junior partner, he thought agreeing with her would ease
his way to a senior exterminator position. He was wrong; it was upon her
recommendation that he rose through the ranks, and his constant cheer didn’t
Though she was trying to train him, she still kept some of the job secret;
She shook her head in disgust, gripped the barrel of the gun and cautiously
stepped forward.
“Are you sure that tank isn’t too heavy?” Ches asked.
Raisa rolled her shoulders. Yes, the chemical tank was heavy, but no way
would she let her partner take point. The last time he did, the mess took
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“It’s fine. Now focus. He’s one sneaky bastard.”
There was a splash behind her, a muttered curse and Raisa rose from her
crouch to turn and stare at Ches standing in the middle of the sewer. Black,
viscous liquid oozed sluggishly around his lower legs. So much for focusing.
He picked up one foot and shook some near solids off his boot, stepped
“Unfiltered and undiluted industrial and human waste? Surely not.” Raisa
“That bastard is going down.” Ches promised darkly. “I’ll never be able to
“Let’s catch him first, okay? You can take it out of his hide.” Raisa returned
One slow step at a time, she crept down the tunnel to the t-intersection. She
lowered to one knee and cocked her head to listen down the right tunnel.
Raisa heard nothing but the trickle of water, saw no sly, subtle movements,
felt the same steady air current. Their quarry wasn’t down the right side.
Ches snapped his fingers to attract her attention and pointed down the
tunnel when she looked at him. She gave him a nod and crept past him.
Raisa nodded. “Get ready. If he gets past me, you know what to do.”
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The rim of the sewer was too narrow for the work she needed to do. Raisa
resigned herself to getting mucky and stepped into the sludge, eased one foot
Ahead, she saw a grate in the ceiling of the sewer. Here was a perfect place
for an ambush. The morning light flared down, blocked the rest of the tunnel
from view.
She could hear the clop-clop of horses on the cobbled streets above, the
chatter of street urchins begging and the angry curses of the patrons
“Be off with you, you filthy beggar!” One man shouted.
Raisa paused to listen. She’d seen the filthy streets, the coal-smutted
buildings and air, the factory stacks belching smoke, the unwashed, barely
clothed people who worked sixteen, eighteen hours a day to feed their hordes
of grubby, emaciated children. She’d seen, too, the ladies and gentlemen in
their finery, riding polished handsome cabs, their pockets and reticules
jingling with coins, ignoring the less fortunate as if they were invisible.
Memories flashed behind her eyes. She’d been poor once, no, worse; she’d
dressed in rags picked out of the garbage and tied together, ate rejected and
rotten vegetables from the markets, discarded food from the restaurants.
She’d slept in doorways, under bushes, on the rocky beach, above the high
tide mark under the pier. She recalled the beatings from local thugs, and her
killing of a couple of them; all to survive the mean streets. Oh, yes, she knew
Ches tapped the tank, breaking her out of the ugly memories. She rolled
her shoulders and continued on, her hands gripped the barrel to stop them
from shaking.
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She crept past the square of light, using the rim, and moved deeper into the
gloom of the slime coated tunnel. Here and there, she saw the scrape marks of
It had to be him; no one else would venture down into these filth-strewn
hollows unless paid handsomely - like she and Ches – and only for a very
good reason.
The temperature slowly rose. It was barely noticeable at first, but the
warm, moist and fetid air huffed against her face. There must have been an
The muck began to steam, warming her feet inside the boots. Their quarry
needed warmth, heat, to survive and England, this winter, was harsh.
She saw a flicker of movement up a head and stopped, slowly lifted her
right hand and pointed. Ches lightly pushed her tank; enough for her to know
Ches would stay behind, acted as a barrier if her quarry got past her. Her
partner was big enough, strong enough and fast enough to stop the bastard in
his tracks.
Onward she slid, using the muck to hide her footsteps, her eyes straining
Her toes touched an edge, a step, and she eased forward, stepping down.
The muck was now up to just below her knees, the warm wetness leaking
“D… d… don’t kill me!” Came a whispered plea from the darkness.
Raisa squinted to find the source, but the tunnel’s acoustic bounced the
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“What?” She asked and shifted to the left, stared hard into the stinking
“Don’t kill me, please!” The creature shifted, held it’s limbs together as if to
She raised the gun, thumbed the safety catch and prepared to spray the
area with a toxin lethal to the race of reptilian Acanthus, but safe for
humanoids.
Raisa slammed into the muck, hit from behind. She held her breath as Ches
The tanks were too heavy with Ches on her back to lift up, no doubt what
he intended but struggled hard to push up. She dropped the gun and shoved
her hand into her trouser pocket. There. She tugged out the re-breather and
shoved it over her nose mouth with one hand, blew hard once to expel the
awful slime. The micro-machinery of the equipment cleared the rest and de-
toxified the recycling air. Then she pulled the stunner from her other pocket.
Raisa slowly let herself relax as if drowning; a twitch here, a twitch there
and finally, she let him push her all the way down to the bottom of the sewer.
He stayed atop of her for a minute longer, then got off, pushed her away.
She pressed the tabs to release the tank and let it slide off.
Chez should have ripped the night-vision lens from her face, should have
asked about what weaponry they’d need for the Acanthus. He would not get
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She allowed her body to rise and surfaced without a ripple. Twenty metres
away, Chez had his hands around the metre and a half Acanthus’s throat and
The Acanthus had protective dark grey scales all over his eight-limbed
body and tail. His mouth held sharp teeth that regenerated should any be lost
and solid bone reinforced his head. Chez must be out of his mind to take one
on.
pacifist?
Raisa pushed off from the side of the sewer and swam closer. Now she
could hear Chez, muttering curses and accusing the beast of betrayal.
repayment?”
“I am not free. I live in squalor.” The Acanthus said without any effort. “I
want off this putrid world and you are going to take me.”
“I’ll kill you!” Chez shouted and pressed harder, kicked at the beast.
Raisa was as close as she was going to get. She reached out and pressed the
She pressed the button and her former partner dropped into the muck,
traitorous body.
“I’ve been at this too long to go into a situation blindly.” She said and
hauled Chez out of the muck and rolled him onto the shelf of the tunnel. She
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tugged the cuffs off her utility belt and snapped them around Chez’s wrists.
deception.”
Raisa shrugged his comment away. “Now, you said ‘it wasn’t you’?”
The Acanthus sank lower into the warm slush, as if it were a spa. “That I
did. Your companion… took bribes from my enemies, used their knowledge
to set me up. I fled, to here. To this world. I did not know the Terrans were
“And an extermination warrant was sworn out and handed to me.” Raisa
sat on the shelf, away from Chez’s still spasming body. “You have proof of
this?”
“Yes, gentle fem, I do. He,” the Acanthus glanced at Chez, “offered to free
me for money. Having lived here for two of this planet’s moon cycles, I
accepted. But I could not go through with it, not when it meant another
“We’ll deal with that when we get back to Galactic Central. In the
meantime, we’d better get this scum-sucking, bottom-feeder back to the ship.
“My thanks.” The Acanthus rose, clasped his clawed hands together and
bowed.
Raisa wiped muck from her face and flung away, grimacing as she did so.
She couldn’t smell the sewer any more. “Sometimes, I hate my job.”
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Backspace
“I can’t use ‘It was a dark and stormy night’, that’s already taken. I think. I
“What’s that, honey?” Mike’s wife, Fenella, looked away from the
television to glance absently at him while the knitting needles clacked and
He gave her a wan smile. “Nothing, sweetie, just thinking out loud.” He
Rubbing his grey-bristled chin, he returned his attention to the blank screen
of the laptop. Two black words, in a rather nice cursive script, topped the
He rolled his shoulders and glanced back. Fenella had tilted her head, but
“I’m trying to think if an opening line for my book. What do you think of…
um… The match scratched noisily across the rusted metal…” He typed as he
spoke.
“Don’t you remember?” She asked. “That’s the first line of The Guns of
“Oh.” He chewed his lip and sat in thought, poked a finger on the
backspace key until the words were the two he started with. Fenella went
back to the television, her knitting needles clicking away. He really wanted to
write an adventure.
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Okay. He’d chuck that idea and write a… hmm… western. No. Done to
death. Although… he hunched over his keyboard and began typing. It was a
feature peculiar to the colonial wars of North America that the toils and dangers…
why did that sound familiar? He shrugged and continued to write: of the
He sighed and backspaced again. Last of the Mohicans, he was sure. Write
what you know. Wasn’t that what everyone said? Write what you know.
Mike knew history. In fact, he loved history, had taught history for the past
thirty-five years. So that’s what he’d write. He scratched his stubble, then
“In that pleasant district of merry England which is watered by the river Don,” he
conversation.
“You’re quoting from Ivanhoe. Is that what comes after the dedication?”
“No.” He sighed, his index finger moved to the backspace again and
Damn it!
Okay, okay. History. He cleared his throat, his mind, rested his fingers on the
keyboard again.
Among other public buildings in a certain town, which for many reasons, it will be
pru… His fingers hesitated then went to that key again. He jabbed down on it.
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He stared at the page, at the blinking cursor and sneered at it. I am a
of worth!
Fingers lightly tapped the keyboard without pressing hard enough to write
Right, then. You will write something genius, something special. You will
Still, the book had merit, and he felt a spark of creativity. He’d write about
“This journey took place in a part of Canada which lies in the north-western part
of the great sprawling province of Ontario. There’s a good start.” He tossed to the
screen. “Hah, I have you now. Readers will want to know about the journey,
the area, too.” He hunched back over the keyboard, but his fingers froze at his
wife’s voice.
“I thought you were writing about The Incredible Journey.” She said.
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The house stood on a slight rise just on the edge of the village. There. Nothing
wrong with that. He tilted his head and thought. The words came to him.
It stood on its own and looked out over a broad spread of West Country farmland.
Not a remark…
He looked up, then back. Fenella was staring at the screen over his
shoulder.
“I know you don’t like me to mention it, but your near photographic
“What do you mean? These are perfectly good words. Not a thing wrong
with them!”
“No, there isn’t. They’ve already been published.” She said with a sad
smile.
“Douglas Adams.”
comparative literature.” She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, and then
let it go. “You got them to read Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea and…”
she prompted.
His finger slowly pressed the backspace key again and again and again.
“No. I’m done with this. I’ll let others write. I’ll read.”
155
“Honey, that’s not like you. I know you can create a masterpiece, you just
need to get your head away from what’s already been written and set in your
mind.” She turned the laptop towards her and began pressing keys.
Mike watched her with a frown between his brows. The frown eased to
“Of course, honey, that’s why you married me.” She said smugly.
“And there I thought it was for your good looks and stunning personality.”
She lightly slapped his shoulder and returned to her knitting and Oprah.
Mike clicked the mouse over the words and more appeared. He kept going
Mike’s fingers flew over the keyboard. He was on a roll now. It would be
brilliant, a classic, lauded throughout the literary world, and all because his
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