The Relic Guild (12 page)

‘I wish to speak with you, Captain, but first be so good as to remove your spectacles.’

Jeter did so hurriedly. Without their aid, his small, hazel eyes blinked and strained for focus.

Van Bam said, ‘That’s better.’

If one knew what signs to look for, the human face could give away much of what a person truly thought, of what they did not say – the eyes most especially. And who better to read those signs, to understand and detect the masking of what was real, than an illusionist?

‘Do you have anything to report?’ Van Bam continued.

‘No, sir,’ Jeter said. ‘Our search for Charlie Hemlock is continuing, but we’ve hit nothing but dead ends so far.’

‘That is hardly surprising, Captain. You may call off your efforts now. Charlie Hemlock is no longer your concern.’

Jeter frowned. ‘And Fat Jacob, sir?’

‘He will not be returning to the Lazy House.’

‘Understood. I’ll have the entertainment council terminate his license.’

‘Thank you, Captain.’

‘Sir, if I might, can I ask about the whore, Peppercorn Clara—’

‘The matter is closed,’ Van Bam responded sternly. ‘Is that clear?’

‘Yes, sir …’

Jeter was a model denizen, an excellent choice as head of the police; but whenever he was addressed by his Resident, his uncertainty displaced the confident arrogance he usually displayed before others. His frustration was evident now, though he dare not argue with Van Bam. How could a matter the Resident had deemed so important just a few scant hours ago be concluded so suddenly without explanation? Jeter’s face was alive with micro-expressions, easily read by Van Bam.

The Resident said, ‘You are wondering at the reasons for my decision, yes?’

Jeter lowered his eyes. ‘It’s not my place to question you, sir.’

‘No, it is not. Put your frustration to one side, Captain. A matter has arisen of which we must speak.’

Jeter looked up, his expression professional once more. ‘Of course, sir.’

Van Bam paused, choosing his words carefully
. ‘A wild demon has entered Labrys Town.’

Jeter’s expression
fell, almost imperceptibly. His Resident’s revelation was clearly a
problem he did not need in these early hours. ‘Understood
,’ he said. ‘I’ll organise a search and destroy party
immediately.’

This was standard procedure on the rare occurrence of
a wild demon venturing from the Retrospective and managing to
pass through the boundary wall into town; but Jeter did
not appreciate that this time it was no ordinary demon
his Resident was talking about.

‘No,’ Van Bam said. ‘
You
will double the street patrols, and police watchers will
monitor the eyes at all times
. I
will coordinate the
hunt personally.’

‘Sir?’

‘Captain, this demon is peculiarly gifted in
magic. It will be hard to track and even harder
to destroy. For that reason, I am reinstating the services
of the Relic Guild.’

‘The Relic Guild?’ Jeter’s surprise
was obvious. Less apparent were the subtle shades of fear
that opened his eyes fractionally wider.

‘You heard me, Captain
,’ Van Bam said. ‘You and your officers will pay every
courtesy to my agents. You will not stand in the
Relic Guild’s way, but you will stand by as
reinforcements should you be ordered. Do you understand?’

‘Y-Yes
, sir.’

‘Good. You will watch and protect the denizens as
always. Anything of the unusual is to be reported to
me immediately. We must not underestimate the threat this demon
poses.’

‘Of course, sir.’

‘Then you have your orders, Captain
, and I bid you good night.’

Jeter jumped to his
feet and saluted again. Van Bam said nothing further and
withdrew his focus from the office, the police building and
the plaza in which it stood. Once more his vision
flowed through the eyes of Labrys Town.

Streets and buildings
passed through his observation room, but Van Bam didn’t
know where he was heading and travelled in random directions
across two and a half thousand square miles. Observing the
town
like this gave the Resident a sense of clarity and inner focus, and there was much on which he needed to meditate.

The dead stay dead, Clara had stated – if only that were true. The Relic Guild had stopped Fabian Moor once before, but things had been different back then, the organisation much stronger. Marney was missing, perhaps dead already; and that left two old men and an inexperienced young girl with the unenviable task of hunting Spiral’s most dangerous general, the last of the Genii.

As he continued to travel across Labrys Town with this daunting thought in mind, a man’s voice suddenly spoke inside Van Bam’s head with cold, pernicious tones.

Are you feeling
lucky, my idiot?

Van Bam sighed, but didn’t reply, and the voice added:
Are you roaming the streets
hoping you might catch Fabian Moor enjoying a night off?
Doing his laundry, perhaps?

Van Bam felt his direction veer to take a new route through the eyes. He was not in control of this change, and not from choice did his motion stop halfway down a wide street on the outskirts of the central district.

He stood outside a four storey hospital. Inside, a receptionist spoke with an orderly. The lights from windows shone down onto the wet cobbles. Van Bam felt a moment of sadness, remembering Angel. Many years ago, in this hospital, she had doubled as a doctor, using her gift of magical healing to help where she could.

The voice spoke again inside Van Bam’s mind, and the cold tone was clearly amused:
Brings back
memories, doesn’t it?

Why have you brought me here
?
Van Bam thought, but the voice didn’t answer at first.

In the street before the Resident the figure of a man slowly materialised. His hair was short, and his gaunt face was shaded by stubble. He grinned lopsidedly, laconically, and his sunken eyes gleamed with menace.

This man did not truly stand in the street; he did not stand anywhere. He was the voice in Van Bam’s head, the ghost that haunted the corridors of the Nightshade, the spirit who had at one time been the Resident of Labrys Town. He was forever remembered as Gideon the Selfless, and he appeared to Van Bam exactly as he had the night he had been killed, forty years before.

‘Why didn’t you tell Captain Jeter the truth?’ the ghost of Gideon demanded. ‘Why not tell him that a Genii has returned?’

‘You know why,’ Van Bam replied. ‘The very mention of Fabian Moor would send the denizens into a panic.’

‘
And rightly so.’ Gideon watched as two nurses emerged from the hospital, ending their shifts for the night. They walked through Gideon, briefly disturbing his image, and he turned to watch them leave, unashamedly admiring their figures.

He turned back to Van Bam with lust in his eyes.
‘
But I think inducing panic will soon be the least of everyone’s worries, don’t you, my idiot?’ He chuckled unkindly.

For forty years Van Bam had tolerated Gideon’s voice in his head, and the ghost rarely made his point quickly. It was far easier to accept his incongruous manner than to battle against it.

He sighed and took a few steps closer to the former Resident. ‘Gideon, there is something I do not understand.’

‘Oh?’

‘Fabian Moor is a Genii, a creature of higher magic – what possible use could he have for a magicker? Why did he abduct Marney instead of killing her?’

Gideon shrugged as if he didn’t much care. ‘Your guess, I suspect, is as useless as mine. Though we have always had our theories about Moor.’

Van Bam nodded. ‘Let us hope that Charlie Hemlock will provide some definite answers.’

‘If he’s still alive.’ A look of dark mirth came over Gideon’s sharp features. ‘Oh, by the way, I like Clara. She’s a little ugly for my tastes, but when a whore earns the name of
Peppercorn
…’ His grin was unfriendly.

Van Bam held in check a sudden and unexpected need to protect the changeling.

Gideon said, ‘Do you think she is up to the task, my idiot?’

This gave Van Bam pause to consider. He exhaled heavily. ‘Clara is strong, and we can be thankful that Marney has helped her to accept her predicament.’

‘What, with a kiss?’ Gideon snorted. ‘Marney never did anything without reason – you know that, my idiot. Who can say
what
she did to the whore out in the Great Labyrinth tonight.’

‘Regardless,’ Van Bam said testily, ‘Clara will have to learn fast, but at least she is in good hands.’

‘Good hands?’ Gideon’s laughter was scornful. ‘Are you really so sure?’

With that the ghost disappeared, and Van Bam felt a dizzying lurch as he was swept away from the hospital where an old friend had once worked, and his journey across Labrys Town was resumed.

Again, the streets and side lanes passed through the observation room. Faster and faster he travelled, the lights of streetlamps streaked and blurred, but Van Bam didn’t try to stop Gideon leading him across the districts. Within seconds he reached the lower regions of Resident Approach, where a sleek and black tram was just heading into the central district from the north. Van Bam caught up with his personal tram, and then its interior filled the observation room.

He stared down the length of the carriage. Two bench seats lined either side. Samuel and Clara sat opposite each other. Samuel studied his spirit compass, and Clara looked down at the satchel of spell spheres in her lap. They did not speak; the atmosphere in the tram was clearly uncomfortable.

Gideon had materialised sitting next to Samuel. Van Bam ensured that he and the ghost could not be seen or heard, and pursed his lips as Gideon sneered into the old bounty hunter’s face.

‘Look at him,’ he hissed. ‘Always so proud. Always so …
irritating
. You should have died years ago, Old Man Sam.’

Van Bam didn’t comment. Gideon, even as a ghost, was a latent psychopath. When he was alive, his passion for confrontation was legendary among the agents of the Relic Guild. But he had been the Resident and his ways were tolerated. Except by Samuel. He and Gideon had shared a mutual hatred, which often boiled over, and on a few occasions they had needed to be separated. Van Bam had never discerned the specific reason why they loathed each other, but no one had ever dared suggest they reconcile their differences, not even old and wise Denton.

Gideon peered at Samuel’s face. ‘Oh, Samuel,’ he said. ‘I wonder, given your time again, would you still stand by your comrades in the Relic Guild? If you were the man you have become today, then I think not.’

Behind Gideon’s caustic words, Van Bam could detect the point he was making, and it ran deeper than his hatred of an old bounty hunter. It was something that could be ignored no longer.

‘Samuel concerns me,’ the Resident said.

‘And with good reason,’ Gideon replied. He looked across the carriage at the young changeling sitting opposite. ‘Clara is touched by magic,’ he continued, ‘the first to be born so for many years, as far as we know. She represents a new generation of Relic Guild agents. Marney knew it, and so did Samuel.’

‘Yet he intended to kill Clara for the sake of a bounty,’ Van Bam said, and he moved down the carriage to sit next to the changeling.

Samuel knew the duties of the Relic Guild, no matter how many years had passed. He should have been as keen as Marney to save Clara. The bounty contract was a mystery – undoubtedly bogus, perhaps a means to gain Samuel’s attention – but what had it offered that could convince Old Man Sam to act so dishonourably, so foolishly?

Gideon passed a ghostly hand through Samuel’s face and said, ‘Who was it that offered this old fool a contract to end the life of a changeling whore?’

An avatar, Samuel had said; a ghost of blue light …

‘You will have to watch him,’ Gideon warned. ‘Samuel is not the man you once knew, my idiot.’

‘Perhaps,’ Van Bam replied. ‘But I do not believe Samuel to be a danger to me or Clara. Not now. He can be trusted. I can depend on him.’

‘I certainly hope so.’ To Van Bam’s vision, Gideon’s eyes flashed with sparkling colours. ‘Because we all know what happened the last time Fabian Moor was around.’

With a sudden jolt, Van Bam found himself once again outside the black tram. He remained silent as Gideon steered him southward, deep into the southern district of Labrys Town. He passed recycling plants and water reservoirs, and then a landscape of storage warehouses shifted through the observation room. Van Bam floated through the yard of a metal-works and drifted down a lonely street, where nondescript houses lined either side in terraces. Down this street, all movement ceased, and Van Bam was left staring at damp cobbles reflecting the violet glow of streetlamps.

The ghost of Gideon once more materialised before the Resident. He pointed to the ground at his feet.

‘I’m standing on the exact spot where I died.’ His grin was broad. ‘Did I ever tell you what it was like to die, my idiot? The pain and the emptiness I suffered?’

‘Frequently,’ Van Bam replied sourly.

‘I’ve been thinking – since Fabian Moor has returned, my death seems a little in vain. Do you think they’ll strip me of my “Selfless” title?’

‘What is your point, Gideon?’

The tone of Gideon’s reply suggested he was talking to an imbecile. ‘What will you do if Charlie Hemlock is alive? If he can answer every one of your questions, how will that help you stop a Genii?’ He sneered, and his tone returned to its cold and bitter state. ‘These are not the old days, my idiot. There are no mighty friends watching over us anymore.’