Fareham, Hampshire, November 28th
Caerys hung, dejectedly, by her hair, staring at the stunned form slumped half-in the cupboard in front of her, and felt herself freeze in panic. 'She’s going to kill me!' she thought, but after a few seconds when the figure hadn’t moved she got her breathing under control and pushed herself up onto tip-toes again, taking the weight off her scalp.
“Got to get out of here…” she muttered to herself, the sound coming muffled to her ears as the last of the strange, numbing warmth tingled through her extremities. Gritting her teeth, glad of the numbing effect for a moment, she let her weight hang on her hair again, lifting her feet and folding her legs against her chest until she could pull her bound hands underneath them and out in front of herself.
“Fuck you!” she quietly cursed her father – knowing full well that the long hours she’d spent stretching and developing that kind of flexibility hadn’t been to improve her chances of escaping capture – and then turned to gnawing on the narrow bindings as she put her feet back on the floor. The tough, narrow strips of leather resisted her attempts to bite through them; but she managed to snag the knot and tease it open, finally shaking the cord away and reaching up to slip her hair off the hook and lower herself comfortably to her heels.
Dragging the fallen woman out of the cupboard she quickly looped the leather cord around her wrists, then drew her ankles up and bound the four limbs together. Her hands shook as she remembered the times she’d been held like that, helpless and defenceless, but she forced herself to finish off, feeling the welt on her stomach where the tattoo gun had done its work – this woman wouldn’t show her any mercy if given the option. Ripping Lilith’s blouse open she stuffed the balled up cloth into her mouth and tied another strip across the top to keep her quiet and turned to leave, but was drawn back to the subtle glow still emanating from the cupboard.
“They used to be your mother’s, once upon a time.” She recalled the words and slowly crouched down to look into the depths, picking through scattered ingredients the broken shelf had disgorged to reveal a small wooden box. The box itself wasn’t glowing, but the contents were, the light obvious even through the marquetry of the lid. Opening the box, gently, she brushed a hand over the thick paper of the deck of cards within, then quickly closed the lid and tucked the box into her pocket.
Turning away towards the door, her eye was caught by another of the glows – this one more obvious – from a heavy book resting on a gothic-looking lectern. Snatching it up, and sparing a last glance for the inert form on the floor, she slipped out into the corridor. She did so hugging the book to her chest, worrying about the continuing glow. Shuffling along the corridor, glancing over her shoulder constantly expecting to hear sounds of pursuit, she crept down a stairwell to a heavy, wooden door.
Easing it open, sighing with relief as it moved quietly and easily, she crept out onto a balcony overlooking a wide, long room dominated by a broad table covered with a large map, and studied by Marduk and a few of his soldiers. Crouching down low, hiding herself away from sight, she darted glances along the balcony looking for other doors until footsteps below caught her attention.
“Ah, the Prodigal Son has returned.” She heard Marduk call, and froze, knowing the footsteps were almost directly below her. “I’m guessing,” she heard Gabriel reply, “that you haven’t just seized control back from rogue elements, father?”
“No.” She crept to the railing, peering down at the floor where Gabriel herded Sophie behind him and stood ready. Marduk and his three bulky, black-clad cohorts crowded in. Sophie’s face was pale with fear, and she was visibly trembling, but the focus on Marduk and Gabriel meant Caerys had the opportunity to move around for a better view.
Fareham, Hampshire, November 29th “No.” Marduk confirmed, with a sneering, smug snort of derision. “This isn’t exactly the apology I was expecting from you, Gabriel.”
“This isn’t exactly the welcome I was expecting.” He pointed out by way of reply, gesturing with his sword at the three men flanking the elder soldier.
“Really? You betray me and think you can come back to be welcomed with open arms?”
“Betrayed you?” For the first time since he’d entered the room, Gabriel felt things move outside his realm of control, having not anticipated that response.
“I put time and money and effort into getting you where you were – do you think that was for the good of my health?”
“I got me where I was.” Gabriel countered, quietly.
“You threw it away. All I’d invested in you gone because you couldn’t handle…”
“Giselle died.” Gabriel interrupted. “They’d have done nothing about it, I had…”
“YOU LOST A WHORE!” the Admiral yelled, interrupting, spittle flying as his anger flowed freely. “I lost a damned good secretary, and they’re a hell of a sight harder to replace than a piece of skirt. You’ve picked two new ones up already, for God’s sake.” He took a moment to visibly calm himself, something Gabriel had no need of, his face set in a stern glare. “I also lost a weapon I’d spent many years honing.”
“Is that all he is to you?” Sophie almost whispered, surprising all of them.
“Shut up.” The Admiral didn’t even snap at her, merely disdaining to address her comment at all. Gabriel, meanwhile, took the opportunity to calm himself – confusion rivalled with anger inside, despite no trace of it reaching his face – knowing that the words had been intended to crack his discipline, make him angry. “You still have a chance.”
“A chance for what?” Gabriel looked around, gesturing towards the deformed, twisted mockeries lining the far wall. “For that? Or to be one of Rod, Jane and Freddy here.” He nodded towards Marduk’s three cohorts with a slight sneer, seeing them edge slightly closer, anticipating trouble.
“If necessary.” The Admiral admitted, with candour. “I’m not wasting your talent now I’ve got it back. It’ll either be given, or I’ll take it.”
“Did you have her killed?” Sophie asked, quietly, catching both their attention, though Gabriel didn’t dare turn away. “Giselle. Did you have her killed?”
“Oh, of course I did.” Marduk sneered at her. “I identified his emotional dependency as a weakness and thought, what’ll make him less emotionally unstable – I know, I’ll kill his bitch.” Sophie paled slightly at the venom in his tone, but Gabriel’s jaw just tightened slightly.
“I think we’re leaving.” He decided, raising the pistol, only to have it stripped from his hand with a leather lash that left a high red welt across his wrist and the back of his hand.
“I don’t think so.” The Admiral told him, the smug grin back. Gabriel raised his sword ready to defend himself – and Sophie behind him. “You got her back… please tell me you’ve not done anything to Dr Roffmai.”
“Only killed him.” Gabriel told him, again nodding towards the cluster of bulky figures around the periphery of the room. “Nothing like that.”
“No matter.” Marduk dismissed it with a wave of his hand, despite the deep sigh, calling back his three cohorts and leaving a path to the genetically modified hulks that started moving forward at some unseen signal.
“Surrender, Gabriel, and resume your place, or I will use the dead doctor’s technology to animate what’s left of you and use it anyway.”
“You think?” Gabriel answered, easing Sophie further away from the Admiral and then leapt forward to meet the assault.
His sword swept high and low, chipping away at the heavy bone-like armour that sheathed the attackers, slicing through the wickedly sharp protrusions they used to fight back. They were falling, slowly, but he was being pressed inexorably backward towards Sophie. One stray punch snuck through as he opened himself up a little to drive the point of his sword into an exposed shoulder joint, and another sliced across his ribs as he spun away from the first. Cuts opened quickly across his forehead, shoulder and thigh as he continued, but another three of the creatures fell.
Driven back a step by a thunderous punch to the stomach that he barely absorbed with a forearm, taking a spike through the back of the hand for his trouble, he struck upwards with the other elbow, freeing his sword-arm and lashed across his attacker’s neck. His grip on the blade slipped with the sudden weakness of his hand, and he was slow changing grips so that his last strike cleaving down into the crest of the last attacker’s head coincided with another augmented punch to his chest that sent him sliding backward across the floor.
Battered and bleeding, Gabriel curled up to shift the slide into a roll and finished on one knee, sword at the ready as he looked up to see what was coming next. His eyes flitted, briefly, to the fallen gun perhaps ten feet from where he lay, and back to the enemy.
He leapt, shifting his grip on the sword again, aiming for the grip of the gun, but was met in mid-air by another stinging welt from the lash, followed by a jolting blast of pain and heat that sent him spinning through the air into the wall in an uncontrolled heap.
Fareham, Hampshire, November 29th
Sophie watched Gabriel’s battle in growing horror as he moved through the stream of augmented soldiers like a boat through a river. In seconds the wave had broken into puddles left bleeding on the floor, although he was breathing harder than was usual, and a slightly pained expression showed on his face.
Launching himself at the fallen gun, she felt hope rising as she thought they were going to get out, until two of the three sunglass-wearing figures raised a hand each. One lashed out with a whip of some sort, and the other let loose a glowing disc that slammed into Gabriel’s chest and sent him flying into the nearest wall.
“Give it up, Gabriel.” Marduk intoned, affecting a bored tone of voice, picking at a fingernail as he leant against the chart table. “These can be reanimated later…as can you.”
“Did you give them the same offer?” he forced himself to his feet, a slight crackling coming from him as a broken bone in his shoulder reformed. Sophie shivered at the sound, wondering again at the drive in the young man that wouldn’t let him lie down.
“I should never have invested the healing power in you.” Marduk shook his head, listening to the sound. “But then, I’ve invested power in these, as well.” He gestured to the three soldiers between them, and Sophie felt herself slightly ashamedly trying to press further back into the wall behind her. “More power than I ever did in you, because you’re a failure, Gabriel. You could have had all this, you were supposed to be my right hand, but you couldn’t take it, and you ran away.”
Gabriel eased himself to his feet, more comfortable with each second, and his sword came up ready again as the three squared off around him. One of them moved, the lash winding out again, but Gabriel slipped inside the line of the attack to slice upward with his blade. Again the bright disc seared out, this time coupled with a crackling electric bolt from the third warrior, and Gabriel was pivoted off his feet by the force, spinning to the floor and sliding back towards where Sophie whimpered quietly to herself.
“This isn’t a fight you can win, Gabriel.” Marduk told him as he struggled to his feet again. Sophie forced herself forward to help him to his feet. Facing away from Marduk he winked at her with a half-smile, apparently not as badly injured as he’d made out, keeping hunched over as though in pain. “There are three of them, and only one of you.”
“Two of us.” Caerys’ voice came, only trembling slightly, as she dropped into sight from somewhere above, stumbling a little as she landed.
“Caerys!” Sophie half-screamed, not nearly as confident of the girls ability to defend herself as she was of Gabriel’s.
“Can’t anyone in this fucking building keep a prisoner!” Marduk demanded of no-one in particular. Pointing over the shoulder of the whip-wielder he snarled. “Take them all down.”
Sophie flinched just at the gesture, and Caerys backed up a little, moving alongside Gabriel, who glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Blood trailed gently into her shirt from the hasty tattooing, the tails of the garment hanging loose where the buttons had been torn free. Coupled with her desperate appearance and the strange expression on her face, Gabriel misinterpreted completely.
Fareham, Hampshire, November 29th
“Not again…” Gabriel whispered, and Sophie found herself shrinking back not from Marduk but from the cold, flat expression on his face. He spun, the sword arcing out and slicing through the whip as it lashed out at him, stepping across in front of Caerys and slipping the knife out of her hand. Braced for the impact, he took the brunt of one of the energy spheres in the chest, but snarled through the pain and drove the knife forward out of the spin, driving it through the glasses of the whip-wielder and in through his eye-socket. No blood emerged, he felt no resistance at all, and it almost pitched him off-balance, but a sudden strength surged through him.
The whip-wielder twitched, once, silently and then seemed to shrivel in on itself, drying and dessicating in seconds to a withered husk. Pulling the knife back, invigorated, Gabriel leapt, leading with his sword towards the figure that had thrown the energy sphere – the one he’d dubbed Freddy. Behind the pair, Marduk’s smug expression turned to one of abject horror, and he staggered back, blood dripping from his face. The sword bit deep into Freddy’s arm as he tried to raise his hands to throw another sphere, but more telling was the knife as it drove up under his rib-cage.
Another surge of power flooded Gabriel’s system, lights flashing behind his eyes and a rush of blood in his ears as the power of the strike lifted Freddy off his feet to erode like dust in the wind above Gabriel’s head.
To his right, unnoticed through the haze of adrenaline and whatever the knife was channelling into him, the third of the henchmen – Rod – levelled his arms and let loose with another bolt of lightning at Caerys. Unable to do anything more than flinch, she felt the power punch into the cover of the book she clutched to her chest and then it seemed to disappear. Smiling grimly, she stepped across in front of Sophie as Gabriel turned.
Marduk staggered to his feet behind the table, clutching a second wound in his chest, moving towards the nearest door at an angle that kept his lackey between himself and his son. Gabriel felt the impact of the electricity as it ran through his arm, earthed by the sword-blade, but merely grimaced through it as he lashed overhand and drove the knife into the top of Rod’s skull with enough power to drive him to his knees.
The door slammed, the sound of a lock being thrown loud in the suddenly silent hall. Silence held sway for a moment, threatened by Sophie’s panicked breathing until Gabriel suddenly staggered, dropping to one knee, then pitching sideways to the floor, knife and sword falling from limp hands to slide across the floorboards.
“What the hell was that?” Caerys edged forward, nudging the nearest of the two piles of ash and dust with a toe.
“Mon Dieu…” Sophie whispered, hugging herself for a moment, staring at the knife where it rocked gently on its point and the rounded hand-guard. “What is that thing?”
“I don’t know.” Caerys admitted, with a shrug. “Come on, we have to get out of here… What’s wrong with him?” Nudged into action by the question, Sophie returned to more familiar activities, bending down to grasp Gabriel’s wrist. A sharp crack of discharging static caught her fingers as she drew close, but she persevered. His skin wasn’t just hot it was impossibly warm for a person, bordering on painful to touch, and his pulse raced, shallow and fast. Muscles in his arm and shoulder twitched, the play of them beneath the skin looking slightly disturbing.
“What is that?” Caerys pointed to Gabriel’s shoulders where two large lumps rolled beneath his shirt, heaving and uneven as they pressed against the cloth.
“I don’t know.” Sophie whispered, her voice a mixture of fear and wonder. “We must to go… leave, yes, we must leave.” Her suddenly wavering grasp of English caught Caerys attention, and she nodded.
“Let’s get him up,” she said, but Gabriel rolled – shakily – to all fours and started to try and rise. Face set in a firm grimace he quivered half-upright, and Caerys tried to reach round his chest and hoist him upright but shuddered away as his muscles churned beneath her grip.
“What is it?” Sophie caught her look of revulsion and stepped closer, but Gabriel eased them gently away and forced himself to stand upright alone. His pulse pounded audibly in his ears, and visibly at his temple, and steam rose gently from his sweat-soaked hair, but he leant against the wall for support as he scooped up his fallen sword and reached a trembling hand out for the knife. It skittered the few inches across the floor to his hand, making Sophie jump a little, and then he lurched upright again.
“Come on.” He hissed, obviously in pain, and led them towards the door he’d entered. Caerys and Sophie flanked him warily, but he seemed to grow in strength with each step, slowly gaining speed as they headed for the main door.
Twice they were confronted with uniformed soldiers, and both times Gabriel cut them down in an instant. The knife sank deeply, easily into their bodies but neither of them seemed to shrivel and dry like had happened before. Nearing the door, Gabriel started to slow, whatever burst of energy or adrenaline had carried him this far starting to wear off, but he braced himself against the wall and shared a concerned look with the two women.
“When the door opens, head straight for the car…” he began, but Sophie cut him off.
“You as well. We need you too, this is your country, we don’t know anyone or anywhere.”
They both saw the argument rise in his stance, but it was Caerys that guessed better what the cause was. Sophie expected another glimpse of Gabriel’s customary bravado, but Caerys’ quiet voice silenced them both.
“If you do slow us down a little, put us in danger, it must be your turn.” She held his gaze, comfortably, for a moment or two, until he finally looked away.
“Alright.” He nodded. “Ready?”
Fareham, Hampshire, November 29th
The door, a heavy, iron-bound, oak timber construct had never seen service in the era it was designed, the sort of reinforced barricade that kept banditry out of fortified manor houses, but the craftsmanship and build quality was every bit the equal of any of those mediaeval stalwarts.
Without the key for the complex looking look, Gabriel tentatively slammed a foot into the panelling, hoping to dislodge the surround from the stonework or, more likely, rock the heavy portal from its hinges.
They explosion of fire and crackling lightning that splintered the door into a blizzard of woodchips caught him, therefore, almost as much by surprise as it did the cluster of five gunmen waiting in a short arc outside. Battered and bleeding, they slumped into unconsciousness where they landed, leaving the path free for the three escapees to head for their car.
Half-way across the gravel Gabriel’s legs finally gave out and he stumbled to his knees, only regaining his footing with Sophie’s help as Caerys hastily opened the doors in advance of their arrival.
“Quick, get in.” Caerys pushed Sophie away, leaning against Gabriel’s muscular form to manhandle him into the back seat as Sophie stumbled around to the driver’s side. Struggling with the key for a moment she dropped the bunch, panic and adrenaline shaking her hands, giving Caerys the time she needed to finish her work and slam the door to keep Gabriel in place.
Opening her own door, she dropped into the passenger seat as Sophie almost fell in the door, the trembling getting worse, and from within the house shouts of organisation began to be heard.
“Sophie, we have to go!” she turned, watching Sophie stare blankly out the windscreen, keys in hand. “Come on!”
“Je voudrais il arrêter.” she whispered, and although Caerys didn’t understand the words she picked up the sentiment. Grasping the smaller woman firmly by the shoulders she pulled her around and kissed her, gently, trembling slightly herself.
“What… what was that?” Sophie turned, confused, shocked out of her stupor.
“I… If it stops here, it stops badly.” Caerys shrugged, gnawing gently on her bottom lip. “I didn’t want it to end without having done that.”
“I….”
“Just drive!” She didn’t shout, but the urgency was there all the same. Gabriel’s groan from the back seat caught the attention of both, prompting Sophie to jab the key into place, and rumble the engine quickly to life. The tyres spun – briefly – on the gravel, and then before the car lurched into motion, arcing agonisingly close to the stone balustrades at the doorway before turning back towards the entrance, and accelerating away.
“Where are we going?” Sophie finally managed to ask, hunched forward over the wheel as they cleared the stone pillar they’d struck on the way in.
“Away from here, it doesn’t matter.” Caerys answered, hurriedly, staring over the back seat to where Gabriel shivered and twitched. Clutching her newfound treasures tightly in her lap, she closed her eyes and forced herself to calm. “No… back the way we came in.”
“But your father is back there!” Sophie half-screamed.
“I know, I know… but… that’s our best chance of getting this lot off our tail.” She flicked her head back towards the house, opening her eyes to check for signs of pursuit. “That, and it’s the only way we know back to civilisation.
“Do we want to take Gabriel to civilisation?”
“We don’t have to get him out the car, yet, but we won’t stand out so much in a town as we do here.” She watched Sophie swallow, hard, and take a deep, shuddering breath to calm herself.
“You’re right… I know… I’m sorry.”
“It’s OK.” She reached out a hand to stroke Sophie’s shoulder, but drew it back when the Frenchwoman flinched away, swerving the car slightly on the narrow road. “Sophie?”
“Not now.”
“I wasn’t doing anything…”
“Just… I don’t want to talk about it now.” She muttered, trying to concentrate on the road. “I can’t talk about it now… I…. I just want this all to stop. I want to take Christophe and go somewhere quiet and be left alone.”
Sutton, Surrey, November 30th
Gabriel forced himself upright in the harsh light of the street-lamps, shivering despite the warmth in the car.
“Where are we?” he asked, quietly, reaching out to shake Caerys’ gently, then pulling his hand back into the shadows when he saw the twisted, gnarled fingers jutting from it.
“Je ne sais pas.” Sophie admitted, hunched over the wheel, staring out into the street. Gabriel leant forward, slightly, peering at the dashboard clock to see that it was the early hours of the morning, and then rested back against the fabric of the seat as he broke into a sweat from the exertion.
“Are you alright?” Caerys asked, turning, but he shuffled back into the shadows a little more.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Start driving, we should try and ge….” He tensed as cramps seized hold of his limbs, tightening his stomach and back, lancing pain through his neck and the back of his head. “… oh… try and get back,” he finished limply, flopping slightly. Caerys started to unbuckle, wanting to get back and see how he was, but Sophie just started the car and put it into motion.
“I know… where we are,” Gabriel wheezed a few minutes later. “You need… to turn… left.” Guiding them, painfully, along the back roads and country lanes, their journey took twice as long as it might, but they crept up to the wreckage of the safe-house as dawn was greying the horizon to find no-one watching the place.
“Christophe?” Sophie called – quietly – as they entered, shuffling into the middle of the seating area in a panic until the little figure appeared from one of the bedrooms hazy-eyed and quiet.
“Maman?” Bundling him back into the bedroom, Sophie disappeared quickly, leaving Caerys to deal with Gabriel.
“Are you coming down?” she asked, turning back towards the unlit staircase where he’d not come down.
“In a minute,” he offered, after a brief pause.
“Do you need a hand?” she asked, quietly, taking a step towards him, but stopping as he snapped his response.
“No!” They both waited a moment, and he continued more calmly. “No, I’m… I’ll manage.”
“Maybe I can help?”
“With what?”
“Whatever’s happening to you.”
“What is happening to me?” he stepped into the light, slow and clumsy, and Caerys couldn’t find words to reply. Instead of the tall, lean, muscular and graceful figure she’d come to recognise, there was a hunched, twisted figure, bent with pain and fear, gnarled limbs rippling beneath tough, leathery skin. Red, glowing eyes peered back at her from the darkness, and his silhouette was broken by a series of jagged, twisted, uneven spines that erupted from his right arm and shoulder.
“No, I don’t know ei…” he started to admit, but a fresh wave of pain drove him to his knees, and he blacked out again.
Sutton, Surrey, November 30th
Caerys sat at the table in the kitchen sipping gently at the coffee cup absently, her third since she’d gotten up, her fifth since they’d returned five hours before. Her stomach rebelled at the drink, and her head pulsed with missed sleep, but she couldn’t rest, couldn’t relax. Something had changed – lots of things had changed – but it wasn’t any of things she expected that were keeping her awake.
The book rested on the table, unopened and waiting, but despite having tried she couldn’t focus on the contents. The cards, still ensconced in their wooden box, sat beside the book, framing the half-full cup.
“Caerys?” she turned, surprised, as Sophie paused in the doorway. “Have you slept?”
“No,” she admitted, turning back to her drink. “You?”
“A little. Not well.” Shuffling around the counter to the coffee machine she poured herself a cup and took a seat at the counter, staring at the book and box. “Are these the things you got from…” Caerys just nodded, sipping at her drink again, trying not to stare at the woman opposite. “What are they?”
“I’m… I don’t know. Lilith said they’d belonged to my mother.” She pointed towards the cards, absently, then the book.. “And that… it just caught my attention. It has, there’s a power to it.” They conversation died away, and they both sat awkwardly for a time, listening to the occasional hiss of the coffee machine.
“How is your… the tattoo…” Caerys just shrugged, still staring into the now empty cup. “Caerys, about… in the car…”
“It’s not important, I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t mean… I wanted to say sorry, I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I’m… it surprised me.”
“Is that what’s keeping you up?” she looked up, finally, with an apologetic smile. “I’ll leave you alone, I promise.”
“I… I didn’t say it was a bad surprise.” Sophie admitted, after a quiet moment, almost whispering. “I… I’ve never even thought about… but you…”
“Gabriel was probably right, you know.” Caerys cut her off, not harshly. “It’s probably not a good time to be making these sorts of decisions.” Sophie hesitated, confused, and finally stood up.
“I’ll… I’ll go back to bed then.” Caerys nodded, turning her attention back to the cup. “You should too. Not… I mean your own bed, obviously… to sleep.”
“I know. I don’t think I can sleep, right now.”
“What’s wrong, Caerys?” Sophie stopped beside her, hesitant, then reached a hand out slowly to her shoulder. “Is it… me? Us?”
“No, Soph, I’m sorry.” She turned, clasping the hand gently for a moment. “It’s… I really thought we were going to get away, you know. I thought… I thought he was indestructible.”
“You don’t think that any more?”
“He doesn’t think that any more.” She clarified. “I saw it when he came in. He thinks he’s dying.”
“Is he?”
“You’re the doctor.”
“You’re the… magic…? Witch?”
“Good a name as any.” She shrugged, turning back to the cup, and Sophie slid into the seat beside her. “I don’t know what’s happening to him.”
“Maybe there’s something in the book about it?”
“Maybe there is.” Caerys admitted, reaching out to pull it closer. “Maybe there is.”
Sutton, Surrey, November 30th
Grainy-eyed and tired, Sophie sat up taking a moment to gather her thoughts.
“Que?” she asked, realising someone had spoken. “Qu’est-ce sais?”
“Time to get up.” Gabriel’s voice was pitched quiet and he was obviously still in some pain, but he disappeared from the doorway at speed, leaving her to assume his condition was improving.
“Maman!” Christophe burst in, a bundle of excited energy, closely followed by a concerned looking Caerys.
“You need to talk to him.” She gestured over her shoulder to where Gabriel had gone. “I tried, but he’s not listening to me.”
“What’s happening?”
“Those men that…” she paused, looking at the back of Christophe’s head for a moment… “that hurt Giselle?”
“I thought he’d dealt with that?”
“He got three… the other one got out of prison this morning.”
“And Gabriel’s going after him?” Caerys nodded her confirmation, and then turned to leave while Sophie got up.
“What’s happening, Maman?” Christophe asked, as the door swung shut. “Caerys and Gabriel have been arguing all morning.”
“Somebody hurt a friend of Gabriel’s,” she finally decided upon, wrapping herself up in a robe. “He went to prison for it, and now they’re letting him out. Gabriel is still angry, and wants to go and hurt the man, but Caerys doesn’t want him to.”
She paused at the door for a moment. “I don’t want him to, either. Go watch the television, please, let me talk to Gabriel.”
If he was disappointed he didn’t show it, and scampered out the door ahead of her as she steeled herself to walk into the kitchen.
“Your turn?” Gabriel asked, leant awkwardly against the fridge.
“Is it true?” she countered with, not bothering to answer the question. “You realise this is much too convenient, don’t you?”
“Of course.” He admitted, after a moment’s consideration. “Someone will be waiting. I don’t plan on striking straight away, but I don’t plan on letting him disappear into the general population either.”
“You aren’t well.” She pointed out, as he laboured across to the hob, dragging a stiff leg.
“How well do I need to be?” he turned on her. “I beat everything my father threw at us before, I can do it again.”
“Is that what this is about?” Caerys butted in, from the doorway. “Proving you’ve still got it? Pure macho bullshit because you’ve got a bum leg all of a sudden?”
“This is about people paying for what they’ve done.” He turned his look on her, not flinching in the slightest. “It’s not about me at all.”
“That’s the why.” Sophie agreed, resting a hand on his arm gently. “But you’re… this isn’t a game to you, you don’t take any chances that you don’t have to – why are you in such a rush, now?”
“It’s a trap, you said so yourself. Somebody got him released to flush me out, which means they’ll dispose of him pretty quickly if it doesn’t work rather than be tied to him.”
“So… someone else is going to do the job for you? I don’t see a problem with letting them.” Caerys offered.
“He doesn’t deserve to die any more than he deserved to be kept in comfort in prison. He deserves pain, and suffering, and fear. They won’t bring him that, I will.”
“I thought you were a better man than that.” Sophie drew her hand back, slowly. “You want someone to suffer.”
“For what he did, yes. I don’t think I can make him suffer enough, but I can get closer than anyone else can.”
“And what then, will it bring her back?”
“No, it’ll just mean that he suffered, which is what he deserves.”
“God will judge him.”
“Watch me hold my breath waiting for that one.” The conversation was cut off as another cramp seized up Gabriel’s arm and the pan of bacon he’d been frying spilt to the floor, narrowly missing his stiff leg.
“I’ll get that.” Sophie stopped him bending down for the pan. “And we can talk about this some more.”
“You need to get dressed,” Gabriel told her, in no uncertain terms. “I’ll get this, we’ll eat, and then you need to pack. We leave at five.”
“No discussion? I don’t get a say in this?”
“Sure you do.” He put the pan down and turned to face her, face bleak. “You can come, or you can stay here, but I’m not coming back any time soon. Your choice.”
Manningtree, Essex, December 1st
Caerys and Sophie sat, quietly, either side of the wooden dining table that dominated the small room, trying in vain to find something to talk about, whilst Gabriel perched at the window. Twice, in the four hours since they’d arrived, he’d dropped to the floor. The first time, the two women had joined him, assuming they were under some sort of attack, only to find him curled up into a ball as his body continued to change. He’d felt them staring, for a while after he’d gotten back to his feet, at the tufts of coarse hair that erupted from his collar and the cuffs of his shirt, but he’d said nothing.
There was nothing to say. It was the one promise he’d ever made, that they’d pay. He figured by now that he was dying, accepted the fact – he’d known he wasn’t the sort to die of old age or illness for a long time – but he wasn’t going to die without at least trying to fulfil the promise.
The second time he’d fallen the pustule on his shoulder had burst open, the black, twisted, vestigial limb it revealed twisting awkwardly and feebly, turning him around in circles on the floor, and neither of them had had the stomach to come near him.
After that, none of them had spoken, beyond his apology and Sophie’s heartfelt statement of gratitude that Christophe was already asleep upstairs.
Across the street, facing the pub that Alistair Pulling had chosen to frequent as his first public house in six years, two figures shuffled along the ridge-tiles of the railway station roof, and Gabriel rose to his feet, stumbling slightly as one knee buckled under the strain.
“What is it?” Caerys looked up, and Sophie turned – he heard them move, knew what they were doing, but couldn’t explain even to himself how hearing alone was good enough to realise their movements.
“Snipers.” He pointed, his finger stopping just short of twitching the net curtains. “Something’s coming to a head.” Caerys closed up behind him, and laid her newfound book on the arm of the chair, gnawing gently at her lip.
“Let’s try…” she muttered, to herself, and began to thumb through the tome, “this.”
Across the road, Pulling emerged with a companion, tucking his arms into a jacket blown awry by the wind. Gabriel leant forward, arms on the window-sill, feeling his pulse rise and breathing quicken. The urge was to burst through the window, fly across the street and wreak bloody vengeance, the world be damned, but the snipers visible on the roof – and no doubt others as yet unseen – gave him the excuse his poor condition needed.
For the first time since they’d left Sutton, he began to fear he wasn’t going to be able to complete the task.
“… ition, over.” A disembodied voice sounded near the window, and Gabriel clutched for his sword, feeling himself buckle as adrenaline surged through his system in response.
“It worked!” Caerys whispered, gleefully, clasping her hands together, and then turning in surprise as Gabriel sank to his knees beside her.
“Secondary target is confirmed in sight.” Came the disembodied voice again, before Gabriel’s father’s voice, distorted by a radio, replied.
“Do you see my son, yet?”
“No, sir.”
“Caerys,” Sophie breathed, stepping closer, laying a hand on Gabriel’s forehead as his eyes rolled back in his head, “what have you done?”
“Magic.” She whispered, not wanting to cut out the effects. “A spell, just to listen to the snipers… it caught their radio too.”
“NNNNGGGG!” Gabriel growled, twitching spastically as he tried to get to his feet again.
“If he was going to come, he’d strike here.” The Admiral continued. “Plenty of escape routes, and more than enough time to get here since the news went public.”
“How did he find out so early?” Sophie wondered aloud, knowing Gabriel was in no fit state to answer.
“Charisma was watching his prison record.” Caerys explained.
“No sign of him on any entry route?” The Admiral asked some unseen observers.
“Negative.” Came the one reply they heard.
“Eliminate the target and pull out, he didn’t go for the bait.”
“Nooooo!” Gabriel managed to hiss out, forcing himself to his knees, leaning heavily on his sword for support, and a gunshot rang out across the street. Pulling was flung backwards off his feet, sliding slightly on the pavement.
Gabriel slowly sank back to the floor, aware of his failure, and gave in to the forces running riot through his system.