Mammon (26 page)

IVAN HAD AN
amused twinkle in his eye as he watched Grace run her fingertips along his face, past the sandpapery stubble to the softer flesh of his neck. ‘Think I need a shave?' The sofa creaked as he shifted his weight. She kicked off her shoes and snuggled closer. His t-shirt was soft, but she yearned to go further, to take if off and stroke the bare warmth of his chest.

And by the animal look in his eye, he felt the same way.

‘I like touching your face.' Grace lay her head on his chest, soothed by the sound of his breathing, the firm thump of his heart.

Ivan rested his head back on the armrest; his fingers snaked up under her shirt. He stroked her back with the side of his thumb. ‘I think I'm getting the better part of the deal.'

He slid his fingers under her chin and lifted it. ‘You feel afraid.'

She nodded. ‘How can you tell?'

‘I just know.' He ran his finger down her cheek. ‘Don't worry, little one. Nobody will ever hurt you while I'm alive.' He slid his fingers into the nape of her neck and pulled her face close in a long kiss.

A low tapping, and their lips broke apart. Grace laughed; Ivan groaned. ‘Why does this keep happening?' With a frustrated smile, he eased Grace to the side and jumped up.

Diana was at the door. ‘How are you feeling?'

‘I'm fine.' Ivan opened the door wider. ‘Come in.'

Diana stepped into the room but froze when she saw Grace lying on the couch. ‘Oh.' She cast an accusing look back at Ivan.

Grace sat up. ‘Hi, Diana.' Her cheeks began to flame with embarrassment.

‘Hi.' Frowning, Diana sat down. She watched Ivan sink on to the sofa next to Grace and take her hand in his. Diana rubbed her forehead and sighed. ‘So, you two are seeing each other now?'

‘Uh-huh,' Grace nodded. She looked up at Ivan, who smiled.

Diana's eyes lowered to the amulets around their necks. ‘What are those?'

‘They're from the rift, from a friend we met.' Grace reached up and held her amulet between her thumb and forefinger.

‘Utu,' Ivan added.

‘Really?' Diana gasped. ‘That's . . . amazing! He's the stuff of legends. You mean you actually met him?' She took a deep breath. ‘Well, Joe did very well. Quick thinking on his part.'

‘Indeed,' said Ivan.

Grace crossed her legs underneath her. ‘What happened to Malcolm?'

‘He was committed for treatment.' Diana leaned forward. ‘But there's a problem. Somehow Malcolm has managed to escape.'

‘How?' Ivan frowned. ‘That's a secure facility.'

‘I don't know what Marcus is more annoyed about,' said Diana. ‘Having forked out all that money for treatment, or the fact that his son has gone AWOL.' She clasped her fingers together. ‘Joking aside, Malcolm just walked out of there. There was no intervention from the guards – in fact, they did everything they could to help him get out.'

‘Sounds like someone with telepathic power,' said Grace.

‘Yes.' Diana gave Grace a long look. ‘
You
should know.'

Grace felt a pang of guilt. Poor Brutus.

‘But that's not all,' added Diana. ‘It's even worse. The night nurse reported seeing a large circular cloud above Malcolm's bed, about an hour before he disappeared.'

* * *

MALCOLM CHEWED ON
a blade of grass and sat back on the day bed, his head comfortably wedged between two silk cushions. He clicked his fingers. Halphas ambled across, refilled Malcolm's glass, then backed away a few steps. Mammon had told him to stand by as the boy's servant; to tend to his whims. He rolled his eyes as Malcolm raised the glass in a mock toast.

‘Thank you, my man.' Malcolm swallowed the contents in one gulp. He tossed the glass to the side and lay back, watching as the girl – he couldn't remember her name – applied the last few colours to the canvas.

‘There.' She stood back and tilted her head before shooting him a glance. ‘Want to see my landscape?' She wiggled her way over to him and dropped her hand. ‘Let me help you up.'

Malcolm squinted. ‘Can you stand just to the left? Ah, that's better.' He dropped his hand. ‘In fact, can you bring the painting here? I can't be bothered moving.'

With a mock sigh, the girl ambled back to her canvas. Malcolm watched her move with an appreciative smile. The micro-bikini – yellow polka-dot, no less – wrapped her curves pleasingly. The dots nearly a precise match for the hair that streamed across her back and over her full breasts.

The girl lifted it from the easel. ‘Oh! It's heavy! Are you sure you won't come over here?'

Halphas coughed. With a minute sway of his forefinger, he gestured for her to move.

She grunted as she lifted the painting.

Malcolm leaned on his side and rested his head on his palm. The canvas rested in front of him, supported by what's-her-name's knees. She'd captured Mammon's mansion well, he had to concede. The Greek columns were proportionate in size to the rest of the building, the balconies' fine wrought-iron patterns carefully detailed. She'd even caught the watermark crest that graced every window: the head of a wolf.

Yes, she'd captured the vastness that was his new home.

‘What should I paint next? The indoor pool? The ceiling there is gorgeous! It'd be a challenge! Although, my neck will get stiff . . . what about the great hall? Oh, I know – the opium den!'

Malcolm nodded. ‘Yeah. In fact, that's the one place I'd actually get off this bed for.' He rolled to his feet. ‘Come on.'

‘Hold on! I need my paints! And another canvas –'

Malcolm grabbed her arm and yanked her to him. ‘You won't need them now, baby.' They walked towards the side entrance in an awkward stumble, her giggles piercing the air. He shot a look back. ‘We won't require your services for the rest of the afternoon, Halphas.'

The old man watched the pair slip away. He gritted his teeth, swallowed his irritation at the boy's attitude, and moved across the grass towards the mansion. Passing through the marble splendour that was the great hall, Halphas paused to gaze up at the grand staircase.

‘Here we go again,' he sighed.

During his servitude, Halphas had witnessed six attempts by Mammon to open a Dark Rift.

And six times Halphas had stopped him.

He did not wish to speculate on what his future would hold if Mammon ever found out.

The last boy – Jeremy – had come shockingly close. But then, Halphas had terrorised the lad, telling him how Mammon would wear his body out and bury him when he was done.

Halphas peered across the room and caught his reflection. He should have been dead so many years ago. The only gift Mammon ever gave him? An extraordinarily long life. Oh, the cruelty of it. He remembered Mammon's gifting words: ‘You always said that the greatest gift you could ever have would be to serve
me
forever, Halphas.'

‘Damn you,' he muttered. He limped on through the hall.

His service was a sham. He knew Mammon only kept him around because of his unique gift: to ‘tune in' and detect rift activity on Earth, then locate the source.

If Halphas ever stopped providing this gift, Mammon would destroy him.

If a Dark Rift was opened tomorrow night, Mammon would destroy him.

There was only one choice. Now he had to enter the most dangerous stage of the game.

Sabotage.

He watched as yet another limousine pulled up outside the mansion. ‘Fools,' he hissed. These Earthborn demons, these elite members of society, these pawns who were offering up their bodies. Hosts – for Mammon's allies to possess, once they were through the Dark Rift.

They would all just have to be disappointed.

For Halphas's life depended on Mammon's army never getting through.

MAMMON SWEPT ASIDE
the curtains that separated the opium den from the swimming pool enclosure. Seemingly irritated, he scanned the body lying face-first on the velvet settee.

‘Ahem.'

Malcolm's face sprang up; bloated eyes battered the sleep away. ‘Oh. Didn't see you there.'

Mammon sank on to the settee next to Malcolm. ‘I take it you are comfortable here, in this house?' He crossed his legs; his fingers stroking the velvet.

‘Yeah.' Malcolm sat up. ‘Although I was expecting to find some actual opium here.'

Mammon tutted. ‘Malcolm. Do you think I would permit drug abuse in this house? Anyway, it might stop you performing your duties for me.'

Malcolm blinked. ‘Yeah.' He removed himself from the settee and stretched.

‘You've rested this morning, and we have two more days to perfect your technique.' Mammon stood up. ‘So, you'll be happy to spend another day in rehearsal.' He strode across and slung his arm around Malcolm's shoulder. ‘We have a lot to prepare for.'

Malcolm followed Mammon through the pool house. He gazed through the arched windows at the willow trees, which were shaking in the wind. The pool was immaculate in its stillness, reflecting the many Grecian statues that stood about its perimeter like silent watchmen.

They walked through a circular sitting room, where lemon-coloured curtains hugged the wall and a servant rubbed polish into a chandelier. The man was quick to lower his head as Mammon walked past.

Malcolm gave the cinema a longing glance as he passed it. He'd hoped to watch an action movie in there with the bikini girl this afternoon.

‘Right.' Mammon stopped in the great hall. He gave Malcolm an encouraging smile. ‘It's all up to you, my lad.'

Malcolm climbed to the top of the stairs, turned around and took a deep breath. ‘I hope I can make it last today.'

‘Practice makes perfect, my boy. Consider your prior failures as stepping stones to the reality of what you
will
achieve on the night.' Mammon leaned on the banister. ‘Halphas!'

‘I'm here, Master.' The old man hurried across the floor.

‘Bear witness. Today, our Malcolm will open a perfect rift.'

‘Right you are, Master.' Halphas stood a few feet back from Mammon and watched Malcolm squeeze his fingernails into his sweaty palms. Inwardly, Halphas chuckled.

‘Um . . .' Malcolm scratched his head. ‘Won't they be able to track us doing this?'

‘They?' Mammon said.

‘Renfield. My old employer.'

Mammon smiled. ‘This mansion is protected thanks to the electromagnetic fields built into the walls.'

‘Really?' Malcolm ran his fingers over the white paint. ‘What, like a Faraday cage, or something? Whoa. You're really serious about all this.'

‘Yes.' Mammon clicked his fingers.

Halphas smiled. He knew Master's impatient gestures.

Malcolm dropped his hand and began stretching his arms in wide circles. ‘Okay, so do you want me to try now?'

Mammon nodded. ‘Absolutely.'

Minutes passed. As the sweat streamed down Malcolm's cheeks, Halphas imagined the high priests at Tarra Satana, chanting in the sand-swept temple. They wouldn't have perspired like this. The crystal would have done all of the work.

‘That's it! There's the beginning!' Mammon ran up the stairs.

A tiny grey cloud hovered in the air, around eye level with Malcolm.

‘Okay, careful now!' Mammon edged sideways, careful not to touch the newborn rift, and stood next to the boy.

‘Right. Let's make it bigger . . . excellent. Now, we wait to see what appears. My associates will be jostling one another – it will be amusing to see who wins the race.' Mammon's eyes, birdlike in their intensity – fixed on the cloud as it began to bulge, like a hand was pressing against the inside.

Then, the rift gave birth. A creature slipped out, falling onto the tiles in a decaying heap of bone and grey flesh. Slit-like eyes, the irises a dull white with a red pupil. Webbed fingers and toes reminiscent of an infant that did not develop fully while in its mother's womb; the grey skin of a reanimated corpse.

Malcolm panted. ‘What
is
that?'

‘Not from my dimension.' Mammon's face was twisted in disgust. ‘We only move in pure, perfect Shadow. Halphas – bring me the Luger.'

The old man rifled through a small bureau drawer. ‘Here you are, Master.'

Mammon snatched the pistol and pointed it at the creature on the floor. Shots rang out and the body jerked at the impact.

‘I think it was already dead,' Malcolm said.

‘Abomination.' Mammon lowered the gun. ‘Get rid of it, Halphas.' He waved a white cloth in Malcolm's face. ‘Clean up. You look terrible. No, I don't want the handkerchief back. Now, go and drink a glass of water and come back here straight after. This setback will not deter us. Smile! All will be well. Your predecessors never got this far.'

He turned back to Halphas. ‘Do hurry up and remove that thing.'

* * *

HALPHAS DUMPED THE
creature's body into the boot of the limousine. He peered into the kitchen: the boy was still guzzling water. Halphas pushed the door open and wandered over to where Malcolm was standing, propped up by the bench, glass in hand.

He stopped and studied the boy's pallid face. ‘Well, that wasn't very successful, was it?'

Malcolm drained the glass and slammed it on to the benchtop. He eyed Halphas with an angry glare. ‘
You
couldn't do it.'

Halphas folded his arms. ‘You do realise that Master won't keep you around, even if you do eventually succeed.'

Malcolm smirked. ‘You're just jealous because he thinks I'm better than you.'

‘I saw how much you perspired up there.' Halphas reached into the cupboard and selected a glass. He filled it with water and took a sip. Leaning on the benchtop, he gave the boy a smug smile. ‘You don't know how much power is needed to open a Dark Rift. It's enough to kill a man stronger than you, even with Master's help.'

‘I'm going to practise. By the time the ceremony comes around, I'll have perfected it. I've still got two days.'

‘We'll see.' Halphas emptied his glass into the sink and walked out of the room.

Minutes later, he drove out of the mansion grounds and turned left on the highway, heading south. On the passenger seat, an invitation. In his pocket, a piece of the boy's old uniform.

If he wanted to stop Mammon this time, he was going to need help.