Mammon (22 page)

RED-FACED, JOE STARED
at Malcolm, who was cowering on the grass. ‘Don't you ever talk about my father again.' With a brief look at Grace, he turned and headed towards the Residence.

Grace shivered, watching a group of mercenaries help Malcolm to his feet. What had he seen in there?

A few minutes later Diana arrived. ‘Take Malcolm to sick bay.' She glanced around the crowd. ‘What happened, exactly?'

A volley of voices responded. ‘He was wasted. Stupid moron. Can't hold his drink.'

‘No, he wasn't drunk. Well, maybe love-drunk.' Laughter rippled through the air.

Ivan took Grace's hand and slid his fingers under her chin, lifting it until she was looking at him. ‘Nothing Malcolm said is true.' He kissed her cheek.

‘Okay.' She gave him a weak smile.

He squeezed her hands and then turned to follow the medics, who carried the delirious Malcolm towards the sick bay.

* * *

JOE SCREECHED OUT
on to the highway, his heart still pounding. He should have relished this, his first drive of the Mustang. The soft give of the leather seats, the responsiveness of the engine should have filled him with earthly joy.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out Mammon's phone. Behind him, Renfield's alarms must have been screaming. He chuckled, remembering Brutus's face at the guardhouse.

‘Open the gate.'

The guard had given him an incredulous smirk. ‘Oh, no, you don't. You need permission to leave.'

Joe had opened a small rift in the palm of his hand. ‘I can make this grow to the size of a mountain in under a second. I'll throw you and all the other guards inside. Open the gate.'

Mammon answered the phone. ‘On your way, Joe?'

‘Where can I meet you? No, not your apartment – I'm in their car, and they'll track it. I don't want them coming after me.'

‘Head to Southport. We'll meet you at Pier Twelve.'

‘Okay.' Joe put down the phone and sped up.

* * *

GRACE WALKED ACROSS
the driveway and towards the external doors of the Residence, where warm light flooded across the gravel.

Sarah touched her arm. ‘Are you okay?'

‘Not really. Things just seem to be getting worse.' Grace sighed. ‘I can't believe what Malcolm said.'

‘I wouldn't listen to him. He's a jerk.'

‘It's awful, what happened.'

‘It wasn't Joe's fault,' said Sarah. ‘Malcolm shouldn't have provoked him like that.'

Excited voices murmured behind them. ‘What a nut job! He should be put away for that.'

‘I wouldn't trust him on a mission. What a friggin' temper!'

‘Shut up!' Grace turned around and gave them an angry stare.

‘Come on, Grace.' Sarah led her into the courtyard. The fountain released microsprays of water into the air, wetting the leaves of the olive trees that bordered the square. Grace slid on to a bench; Sarah took the seat opposite her.

‘I don't know what's come over Joe,' said Grace. ‘He's not himself.'

‘He seems – arrogant.'

‘He's always been a bit like that. But yeah, now more than usual. He thinks he's invincible.' Grace chewed on her nail. ‘But he's still my brother. I don't want anything to happen to him.'

Sarah leaned her elbows on her knees, staring at the pavers. ‘I know how you feel, you know.'

‘Huh?'

‘When people say bad things about someone you love.' Sarah looked up. ‘I never told you that I have a sister.'

‘I didn't know that.'

‘She's telepathic too,' said Sarah. ‘But she went wrong. Lucius and Diana say that she lost control of her power. Two mercenaries were killed . . . but it was an accident.'

Grace clicked her fingers. ‘I get it! She was the one Maya was talking about.'

Sarah nodded. ‘They love to badmouth her. But they wouldn't have dared when she was at her strongest. She was really gifted, like you.' She reached up and pulled a leaf from an overhanging olive branch.

She began to tear the leaf into rough strips. ‘I saw how badly she struggled to control her mind. I wanted to keep her here, to help her. But
he
put her away. His own stepdaughter!'

‘Marcus? Where did he put her?'

‘Where do you think?' Sarah nodded in the direction of the asylum.

Grace gasped. ‘But they keep demons there!'

‘Yes, they do.'

Grace shivered. A human in that place! She pictured Joe in there, struggling against chains, mad-eyed.
A bolt of adrenaline raced up her spine. ‘Sarah! How can you be here like this, while your sister is stuck in there?'

Sarah flinched. ‘Don't you judge me, Grace!'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘I tried so hard to do something. They wouldn't let me see her. I hung around that godforsaken place for hours. The guards came out and tried to bully me, but I held on. Eventually, Marcus threatened to throw me out of here if I didn't back off.'

Grace narrowed her eyes. ‘When you told me you attacked someone here, you meant him.'

‘I hit him with a telepathic assault,' Sarah said. ‘He was beating her up. It drove me crazy.' She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small pill box. ‘That's why I take these meds.'

‘We could try to see her again. Lucius might let us –'

Sarah shook her head. ‘No, Grace. It's too late. She's gone.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘I had to come off the meds a few days ago to help you with that mission.'

‘And?'

Sarah shoved the box back into her pocket. ‘The pills are inhibitors. They cut off my telepathy, stopping me from sensing things. When I first met you and told you that I couldn't read minds – well, that was a lie. I can. And the reason why I was upset on the mission was because I could sense Anna again. I could read her thoughts. And it was that day I realised she's not the Anna I know. Not anymore.'

She gave Grace a hard stare. ‘When I said she was
gone
, I meant that she has degenerated.'

Grace's heart pounded. ‘Oh, no. Not . . .'

‘I've lost her, Grace. She's become one of
them
.'

JOE STEPPED OUT
of the car and stared up at the dark blue boat – no,
ship
that floated off the pier, its great spotlight beaming over the harbour. ‘No way.' He shook his head. ‘That can't be it.'

Then he saw Haures's golden hair, whipping in the wind. ‘Over here, Joe!' She waved to him from the gangway. He jogged across; she gasped as he drew near. ‘Your eye!'

He jumped up on to the gangway, stopping just before her. Swooping down, he planted a long kiss on her mouth. ‘It's nothing.'

She reached up and ran her finger over the bruise. ‘Did you get into a fight?'

‘It's over now.' He pulled her to him and they walked up the gangway. The crew were a flurry of white, casting away the ropes as the engine thundered to life, sending rippling vibrations along the walkway.

Haures led him towards the glass elevator in the main cabin. After a few smooth seconds the doors opened on to a vast, luxurious sitting room. The wood-panelled ceiling was dotted with down lights, bringing out the subtle detail in the cream leather sofas and laying a soft glint on a giant, glass coffee table. On the far side, a mirrored wall set off rows of top-shelf liquor with sparkling detail; red leather bar stools were tucked under the bar's solid frame. The night lights of Border City twinkled through the giant windows that lined the room. Beyond, the dark seas lay in wait.

Joe shook his head. ‘Unbelievable.'

‘There's also a cinema, spa, gym and billiard room.'

‘This is bigger than my old house!'

She ran circles around his shirt with her fingertip. ‘The only room you really need to see is the bedroom.' She lifted her gaze; the look was soft but suggestive.

Joe's heart quickened.

‘Ah, Joe!' Mammon slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Fabulous to see you. Let's celebrate.' He sank onto the sofa and threw Halphas a glance. ‘Drinks.'

Joe sat down, pulling Haures next to him. ‘I'll have a Corona.'

‘Diet Coke.' Haures stroked Joe's leg. Her eyes flickered up to his. Joe leaned over and pushed her hair aside, baring her neck. ‘You were saying about the bedroom?' He pressed his mouth against her skin, tasting her, his imagination wandering . . .

Mammon watched with a smile.

The old servant appeared with a tray. ‘Here you are, sir.' He smiled, handed Joe the beer, then hobbled across and lay a glass of whisky in front of his master.

‘So.' Mammon's fingers tapped the leather. ‘I gather that you are ready to join us?'

‘Yeah. But I want my sister brought here.'

‘Of course. Naturally.' Mammon took a sip of whisky. ‘We will see to that tomorrow morning. We can even dock near Renfield, to make it faster.'

He swallowed the rest of the whisky; the old man refilled his glass.

Joe watched Mammon take his drink. Nervously, he ran his fingers over the edge of the sofa. ‘About last night.'

‘Yes?'

‘We killed innocent people.'

Mammon leaned forward. ‘Yes.'

Joe stared at him. ‘That's all you have to say?'

‘It comes with the job.'

‘But . . . I feel guilty.'

‘Who do you think you are, Joe? An ordinary mercenary? Or something greater?'

Joe shrugged. ‘I don't feel as though I fit in with the others.'

Mammon snapped his fingers. ‘Exactly! You're not the same. Whether or not you want to admit it, Joe, you are a destroyer. Your job is not to create or nurture. It's to do the job most people out there find distasteful. They'd rather hide behind their white picket fences.' He sat back and stroked the soft leather, savouring its texture. ‘Ever seen
A Few Good Men
?'

‘Yeah. My dad used to like it.' Joe pictured Dad, sitting in the recliner with a beer, rattling off the film's memorable lines.

Sadness welled in his gut.

Mammon narrowed his eyes; his voice intense. ‘Remember the scene where Jack Nicholson is under cross-examination in court? What he says to defend his difficult but necessary role?'

‘Yeah.' Joe took a gulp of beer.

‘We need you on that wall, Joe. And part of being the vigilant defender – which is basically what
sarsareh
means – is to make tough choices. Unavoidably, we must sacrifice the innocent for the greater good.'

‘Yeah,' Joe sighed. ‘I guess you're right.'

Mammon clasped his hands and leaned forward. ‘I know I am. But the good news is we won't need to do that in future. We can spare the innocent from further tragedies.'

‘Why is that?'

‘We believe that this fight will be over much faster if we use fire to fight fire.' He leaned forward, eyes glittering. ‘You know we don't mess about, don't you?'

Joe nodded.

‘Have you ever wondered where the demonic energy originates?'

‘I know where it comes from.'

‘Do you really? You've been taught that human beings just manifest the demonic energy, haven't you? That they
grow
it?' With smiling eyes, he pressed his hand to his lips as though to suppress a laugh. ‘That's a very basic theory.'

He raised a finger. ‘Let me fill you in on the truth. The energy doesn't just materialise out of thin air. These people summon it – subconsciously, of course. It attaches itself; it merges with the human to become one being. Perfect symbiosis, in many cases. So, where do you think the energy comes from?'

‘Hell,' whispered Haures.

Mammon pressed his palms together. ‘Imagine if you could open a rift and bring through the demonic energy in far greater quantities. Then, destroy it! That would put a stop to the dark entities that are seeping in. That way, we're cleaning house on a universal level – not just planet Earth.'

Joe nodded. ‘That sounds like an awesome idea.' A chance to alleviate his guilt, to make amends for the innocent lives taken last night. He finished his drink and set the bottle down on the table. ‘I would definitely be in.'

Mammon smiled. ‘Excellent. Why don't we do it tonight? Wake up to a new world tomorrow.'

Joe shook his head. ‘I'm a bit tired. It takes a lot of energy, you know.' His gaze turned to the smooth skin on Haures's shoulders and neck, her lips, full and sweet.
Energy I'd much rather use somewhere else
, he thought to himself.

‘Fine.' Mammon leaned back and spread his arms on the sofa's headrest. ‘Get some rest and we'll talk in the morning.' He gave Haures a sharp nod.

She stood up and reached down for Joe's hand. ‘Come on. Let's go for a walk.'

* * *

AS MAMMON WATCHED
Joe walk out on to the deck, he felt a stirring at the back of his head – his essence was burning to get out and kick this boy around the room – to make him obey immediately. But, no. Slowly, gently. He was too close to frighten Joe off now.

* * *

It was nearly two am when Haures stopped outside the guest cabin. Gently, she pressed her lips against Joe's mouth.

‘Goodnight, then.'

Joe pouted. ‘What – you're leaving me alone?'

She pinched his cheek. ‘You need to rest for tomorrow. It's not every day that you save the world.'

Joe pulled her close, his hands caressing her back, his forehead pressed against hers. ‘I want you,' he whispered.

She touched his lips with her fingertip. ‘The feeling's mutual. Tell you what – we'll go away tomorrow night. Just the two of us. Mammon will want to reward you. Did you know that he has a private island in the Caribbean?'

‘Sounds great,' Joe smiled.

‘So . . .' Haures pulled her finger away. ‘Sleep tight, and tomorrow night we'll be in our own bed.'

Joe tilted his head. ‘You promise?'

She nodded and ran her finger down her chest, lingering between her breasts. ‘You'll be well rewarded, Joe.'

‘Okay.' He kissed her again, then he turned towards his cabin.

* * *

JOE FELT HIS
body begin to relax and his limbs grow numb as sleep approached. As he drifted towards dreaming, a low voice was speaking in the distance – far away, as though it were in another room on Mammon's yacht.

Then, in the dark, a tiny white dot appeared. It grew into a shimmering circle of light. Strange, he didn't usually see stuff just as he was about to go to sleep
. . .

The voice grew louder. ‘Joe, wake up.'

He opened his eyes. The room was soaked in the light, but his eyes didn't sting. His pulse shot up as he realised: the light was a rift.

A figure stepped out of the white fog. ‘Hello, Joe.'

Joe squinted. ‘Who are you?' The man looked as though he was wearing some kind of robe . . . but the light flooded out so much detail. A sweet, burning scent came – like the incense candles that Mum used to buy.

‘My name is Utu. I thought we could have a little walk.'

Joe breathed out, blinking. Of all the weird stuff that had been happening . . . But a resounding sense of calm seemed to overcome him. ‘Okay.' He glanced out the window; nobody out there seemed to have noticed. Then again, it certainly was more gentle than the hellhole he'd shoved Malcolm's head into a few hours before. He grimaced as he remembered the boy's horrified face.

Utu turned towards the rift. ‘You can enter.'

Joe paused. ‘Are you sure?'

‘You have nothing to fear, Ferryman.'

As Joe stepped inside, the insides were awash with the same landscapes he recognised in his own rifts: the grey, lightning-flecked clouds.

He heard a rush of wind.

Something was coming.

He could hear a tearing, screeching howl; could see several blurs of white coming at him like arrows – he closed his eyes in terror.

Then, silence.

‘It's all right, Joe.' Utu's hand was warm on his arm.

Joe opened his eyes. The bony monster – no, make that monsters – were suspended in the air around him. He counted at least twenty; they hung there, calm, quiet – even obedient – their monstrous, hollow eyes fixed on nothing in particular; those teeth not snapping. Just hanging . . . waiting.

‘They're yours to control, Joe. Remember?'

‘What are they?'

‘Reavers. See the lightning?' Utu pointed to the surrounding clouds. ‘It is a lot further away than you think. That lightning is actually the Reavers, travelling at high speed through the infinite space of the rift.'

‘What are they?'

‘Guardians of the rift. Consider them antibodies, whose purpose is to clean out any foreign bodies in here.'

‘But
we
survive?'

‘We're Ferrymen, Joe.' Utu gestured ahead, and a stone path appeared with calm water on each side. ‘Shall we?'