Le Havre, November 22nd
“Up against the car, arms behind your head.” Gavin instructed, tersely, waving the ladies back a step. “Christophe, alles a ton mére.” The boy did, scurrying backwards, eyes fixed not on the old man but on the gun.
“I assure you, Gavin, I’m unarmed.” Camael said, with a slight smile in his voice.
“Good, then you’ll appreciate the advantage we have. Up against the car.” With a shrug the old man turned, placing his arms on the car, slipping his jacket off his shoulders to hang at his elbows as he did.
“See, no shoulder holster. Nothing in the waistband. Nothing so dramatic as an ankle holster… not even a knife.”
“Then you’ve no cause to move around, have you.” Gavin told him. “Caerys, come here.” She nodded, hesitantly, and moved quickly to stand by him. “Take this. If he moves, shoot him.” He passed her a second gun, a pistol, which she rather clumsily grasped and pointed. Once he was satisfied she was in place, Gavin put his own gun up, and approached the old man from a slightly oblique angle, patting him down quickly and competently, even going so far as to flex his belt and tap his shoes.
“Alright, turn around.” He offered, stepping back, and training his own gun on the man again, keeping a distance from Caerys – the old man couldn’t get both of them easily. Camael turned unhurriedly, without a care in the world, as though it were his choice to stand and be frisked.
“Satisfied?” he queried, amused, and nodded companionably to Caerys and Sophie. Gavin merely waited. “You are being followed.”
“Obviously.” Gavin offered, which drew a broader smile.
“By others than me. They will track you down, they have access to technology you aren’t aware of .” There was an emphasis to the word ‘technology’ that meant nothing to Gavin, but Camael was looking at Caerys as he said, and she swallowed. “I can help with that.”
"How?” Caerys asked, and Gavin frowned at her, gently.
“‘Why?’ would be a better question.” He observed. “What’s your stake in all this?”
“I asked you to intercede with these people, remember. I led you to them when you were obstinate – I told you there were people who could help. Now you’ve found them.”
“And who are you in all this? Who are they, for that matter?”
“Those are answers you wouldn’t believe if I told you.” He held up a cautionary hand and reached into a pocket gently, drawing forth a stout neck-chain with an amulet at the end. “Nevertheless, this will keep them from your trail.”
“What is it?” Gavin asked. “Radio-mask? Jammer?”
“Something like that.” The old man gave a wry chuckle. “You should take it, they’re closing in.” He crabbed sideways, slowly, away from where he rested it on the bonnet. Gavin moved back and around to cover him as he did, and Caerys reached for it, gasping slightly as she picked it up.
“It’s for him.” The old man explained, and that had some sort of significance for Caerys though Gavin couldn’t imagine what.
“Here.” She offered, passing it across.
“In a minute.” He shook his head gently, tilting his head slightly at the squeal of tires nearby.
“They’re here, Gavin.” Camael offered, lowering his hands slowly. “I’ll be leaving, you should too.” Gavin paused, considering his options until the deep bass roar of a large engine entered the car-park, a sweeping black saloon slewing wildly through the barrier towards them.
“GO!” he told the old man, sharply, and grabbed his kit from the back of the car. “Into that one.” He pointed to a nearby Audi and Sophie and Caerys dashed for it.
“Here!” Caerys tossed the amulet to him, and he made to slip it into his pocket. “Put it on.”
“Later.” He told her. “When I know what it is. Now move.”
“It’s a chance, damn it. Trust me this time.” She stood stock still, staring at him. Deciding he had little to lose, he slipped it over his head with a frown, as much to keep her quiet as anything.
“There. Happy? Do I need to open my shirt to the navel and wear a chest-wig, too? Now would please move before someone fucking shoots you!” Punctuating his words a shot rang across the car-park, and Caerys ducked her head and ran to the car as Gavin snatched his gun back off her and turned towards the assault.
Slipping between the nearby cars he made as though to run to his left, then ducked and cut alone the row, coming out directly beside the car as it hurtled by. Stepping out into open briefly, three shots rang out, and the man on the back toppled off as the car slewed sideways and into a row of stationary vehicles.
Galvanised by Christophe’s presence, Sophie had taken the initiative and packed the car up neatly, slipping into place behind the wheel and looking at the improvised ‘key’ jammed into the ignition. Turning it easily, the car rumbled to life, and she pulled out alongside Gavin who slipped into the passenger seat and they were off.
Le Havre Hospital, November 22nd
“You’re sure no-one will be here?” Gavin asked, as they made their way up the stairwell, quietly.
“Sure? No.” Sophie eyed him, warily as they climbed. He was carrying Christophe, sleeping, against his shoulder, and she kept twitching to take him back.
She’d been eyeing him warily since they got in the car, keeping the look on him when they swapped places and he spent the rest of the afternoon driving slowly around the town checking to see if they were still being followed.
It wasn’t that she was afraid of him, exactly, but that she thought logically that she should be. He’d gotten back into the car, and underneath the stern, serious satisfaction with a job well done there’d been a frisson of something else – enjoyment? It was almost as though, deep down, he revelled in it.
That had set her on edge, and since then she’d been practically silent, until he’d asked if she had anywhere they could go that wasn’t her home – that’d be watched. She’d suggested work, and they’d circled it repeatedly until he’d decided there wasn’t anyone watching.
“Here it is.” She pushed open a door into an empty corridor in the office section of the hospital and led them quietly along the cheap carpeting to a door marked with her name. Before she could open the door he stepped in front of her, gently passing Christophe back, and eyed the door cautiously.
Slipping a knife out, he delicately slid the blade around the seal, pausing once or twice around the lock, and then stopping in the middle of the floor.
“Wait here.” He told them, quietly, and slid off to the next office, disarming the lock quickly and slipping inside.
“What’s he doing?” Sophie asked, but Caerys could only shrug. A few moments later, her office door opened, and he stood there with a small electronic device in his hands.
“A bomb?” Sophie gasped, spinning to shield her son.
“No,” he told her, in a quiet voice, “not a bomb, just a signalling device. It was set to trigger when the door opened.”
“You turned it off?” Caerys asked, and he nodded, stepping aside to let them in.
“Why are we here?” Sophie asked, as she laid Christophe down on the long couch along one wall. “Shouldn’t we be heading for your boat by now?”
“No point.” He explained, settling down on the window-sill, staring out across the town towards the sea. “They’ll be watching the port here, and have an eye out for unscheduled launches in the next few days from the local harbours and marinas. I’ll e-mail a departure plan to the Octeville-sur-mer harbour master this evening for tomorrow.”
“So we’ll all be sleeping here?” she queried. He nodded, frowning.
“Is that a problem.”
“No, no.” she assured him, dropping heavily into the large office chair behind the desk. Caerys, searching quietly round the room, found a small fridge unit and opened it up to drag out a carton of milk and a small tub of ice-cream.
“That sounds convincing.” She muttered, scooping the first mouthful in. Gavin didn’t reply, just stared levelly at Sophie.
“There’s not a problem with staying here, as such.” He pointed out. “There’s a problem with us. Me.”
Sophie got up, walked across the office away from, wrapping her arms around herself as she did. Gavin and Caerys watched her go, watched her build herself up to speak.
“You’re a barbarian…” Sophie whispered, pressing herself against the wall.
“I did what had to be done.”
“You didn’t just do it… you enjoyed it.”
“Yes.” He spun round, hissing his agreement into her face. “Yes I enjoyed. I just made the world a better place. What did you do? You cowered in the corner, whimpering and hoping someone would come and save you. I did. ‘Thank you’ will suffice.”
“And this makes the world a better place? Killing people.”
“Weaning out the shallow end of the gene pool? Yeah, generally speaking. Not losing someone dedicated to healing and stopping pain, yeah that too.”
“How can you just… kill them. It’s… you’re ill, in the head, you must be.”
“Why? You’d rather they killed you, but you squeezed your eyes shut and prayed for someone to rescue you. You don’t know the first thing about me, but you feel you can judge me?”
“You don’t know anything about me, but you criticise me for what I did.”
“I know your type.”
“Type? There aren’t ‘types’ there are just people. Everyone’s different.”
“Of course they are. You’re a doctor because you were bullied into it, and you convince yourself that it’s all about making people better and not balancing a budget or meeting target figures set by ward managers. You’d be vegetarian because you don’t like how they treat animals except that you don’t spend enough time at home to cook that much. You believe the people I killed could have been rehabilitated into useful members of society and that, even though they’ve been bad people, now they’re dead they’ll be judged by God and he’ll forgive them because he loves all of us.
And you’re wrong.
They’re scum. They drag the world down to their level, and unless someone stands up to be counted they get away with it, and they teach other people that if they take the risk they’ll get away with it too. Rehabilitiation just leaves a void for someone else to step into – the only way to stop them is to make them too afraid to do it. To take that ‘risk’ of something bad happening if they get caught and turn it into a certainty because the one sure thing about people is that they’re selfish.”
“Everyone’s selfish?” Caerys cut in, scooping out the top of the tub of ice-cream sat on her lap. “Everyone?” Gavin turned away from Sophie, relaxing visibly as he did.
“People do what makes them happy. They follow rules and laws either because they’re afraid of being punished or because they don’t like the feelings of guilt that accompany their actions. People do what makes them feel good – if you want to improve society, you make the things that are bad for society bad for people… causing them death and pain is the extreme, but these people are extremely bad for society; especially, right now, the parts of it sat in this room.”
“You can’t just rationalise this away.” Sophie snapped back, snatching the ice-cream out of Caerys’ hands. “You killed people, real people…people with… with mother’s, childr...” She cut off abruptly as Gavin rounded on her.
“People with mothers? People with children? Do you really think that matters… Hitler had parents, Stalin too. Serial killers account for dozens of kids, including their own sometimes… yeah, I killed people, but you don’t really understand what people are, do you.
People look out for themselves, they do what’s best for them, what makes them feel good. Muggers, rapists, thieves, car-jackers, embezzlers, tax-fraudsters, sure they’re easy to spot.
Religious fanatics who kill ‘because it’s God’s word’ can shuffle off the blame to somewhere else – it’s not them, so they feel good. That’s easy for you to stomach because you say they’re bad people. Except they aren’t, they’re just people.
How about something a little closer to home: Doctor’s who oppose euthanasia because it’s morally easy to strive to save and sometimes fail, but to be the one that puts their finger on the button… that’s different.. It’s not so easy when you have to choose between dying and suffering, is it? So you don’t choose, because it isn’t really important whether they live or die, just so long as you can live with yourself in the morning.
I wake up, I look in the mirror, and I’m just fine. I know what I am, I know who I am, and I’ll put it up against anyone in a minute because I do what makes me feel good, just like every other selfish, ignorant bastard on the planet, and I know that, and I accept that. You whine and bitch and moan and shout and try to judge me not because I’m different to you, but because deep down we’re the same, and you know it, but you don’t want to accept it.”
Octeville-sur-Mer, November 23rd
The shelter of the harbour a few miles down the coast had seemed insignificant, but faced with the rolling waves coming in off the English Channel, Caerys found herself smiling reminded of home. It wasn’t the Pacific rollers coming in on the rocky shores of Portland, but it was the sea. She’d not been able to get to the coast very often, but it had always been happy memories – a few of the times she’d run away she’d made it that far, and once, very young, her mother had come with her to stand on a rocky outcrop somewhere, staring out over the waters.
That was where she’d had her first vision, where she’d first seen the metal tower that represented freedom. Things had never quite been the same since then, but that moment had seared itself into her head. And she was back here, seeking freedom again. Paris had come and gone, and freedom had proven to be less than she’d hoped, but at least she had some sort of control over her own destiny now.
“Madame?” Christophe appeared on the deck of the vessel with a broad grin, the same grin that had been plastered all over his face since his mother had told him they were going on boat. It wasn’t what Caerys had been expecting – she still wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, really, but the elegantly simple sailing yacht hadn’t been it.
“I’ll be there in a minute, Christophe.” She assured him, with a smile, reaching up to push her hair back out of her face with a grin for his exuberance.
“I’m just waiting for Gavin.” He came up the deck on his sturdy little feet, coping with the swell as though he’d been sailing for years, and perched himself over the back rail, feet hanging above the water. They waited like that, listening to Sophie mutter to herself down below, for about fifteen minutes until Gavin appeared at the end of the jetty, one large pack slung over his shoulder and another hanging from his hand as he strode confidently along the woodwork.
“You took your time.” Caerys observed, with a smile.
“Well, I took the time to stock up a little.” He observed, pitching one of the packs onto the deck, and then hoisting the other down off his shoulder. “Food, here, so we can take our time with the journey if we need to. There’re some old clothes in the other, I figured you and Sophie could probably do with a change. I have some here on the boat already… I’m afraid I don’t have anything for Christophe, though.”
“We’ll manage.” Caerys smiled, almost as eager to be off as Christophe was. “Why might we be at sea for a while?”
“Well, I lodged a travel plan to head for Chichester.” He explained as he sprang up onto the deck behind the second pack. “I also tapped the phone-line out of the harbour-master’s office, here, so if he phones to alert someone that we’ve left, I can change destination.”
“Why not just head somewhere different anyway?”
“Deviating from your expected course raises suspicions – best to try and appear normal for as long as possible.”
“Alright.” She reached out a hand and laid it on his arm as he went to hoist the bag down into area below deck. “She’s… she’s still upset.”
“She’ll be upset for a while, I should think.” He observed. “I can’t do much about that, and we don’t have time to sit and hold her hand while she deals with it.”
“Not everyone can shrug this shit off like you do, you know. We have… doubts, fears, worries.”
“You think I don’t?” He laid the pack down, moderating his tone a little. “I have doubts, fears, all the rest. I just don’t let them rule my decisions. I take them into account, but they don’t control me, it’s as simple as that. Now, I have to pack this stuff.”
“I’ll get it, I don’t think she wants to see you.”
“And? Do you know where the stowages are?”
“Um… no.” she admitted.
“Then I’ll go stow these, and we’ll see if Dr Barthez can keep herself under wraps.”
“Like you did?” Caerys’ smile faltered a little. “You didn’t hold back much, there.”
“Hold back? Why would I? I had a point, she didn’t. It’s my boat, I’m providing her the safety she needs, and she should just be grateful and accept that.”
“You don’t think she’s entitled to feel a little unsettled?”
“Unsettled, maybe. Ungrateful, no.”
“I don’t think she’s ungrateful, I think she’s scared.”
“And you aren’t?” She stammered a little, and he continued. “Exactly. You’ve got your worries, you’re dealing with new things, but you aren’t reacting like that.”
“Death isn’t the distant horror for me that it is for her.”
“She’s a Doctor, she must see death on a pretty much daily basis.”
“I don’t.” They both turned to where she stood at the top of the narrow companionway from below. “I took up Neurology because you don’t encounter death as often as other places. I wanted to be in Obstetrics, but I couldn’t imagine watching a child pass away… I’m sorry if you think I’ve been ungrateful, I’m not. I appreciate what you’ve done, I just don’t even begin to understand how someone can live like you do.”
“Live like what?”
“Where do you live?”
“Where I need to.”
“You have no home, you don’t have any close friends, I’m guessing, you don’t talk to anyone. You live in this isolated little world where you are the only person balancing your view of things. That’s… that’s dangerous, psychologically. You’ve got no humanity imposing itself on you, that’s how you can just brush these moral issues aside.” He nodded, slowly, as she spoke, letting her play her words out.
“I can see how you’d think that, but it’s not that complicated really. They shot at me – and you – and I shot back. I did nothing to provoke their assault, and I don’t believe either of you did. You’re both witnesses to whatever they have going on, and they want you dead for it. There is no morality in there, Doctor, just cause and effect.”
“Why do you say ‘Doctor’ like that…”
“Like what?”
“Cold. Hard. Like it was an insult.”
“It… you’re supposed to be a scientist, I’m trying to remind you of that. Facts, evidence, deduction… We don’t have the room to be emotional right now.” She paused for a few moments digesting that, and then turned round and went back down below.
“Keep an eye on Christophe,” he told Caerys, “I’ll go pack this away and we’ll be off.”
‘Venture Upon The Sea’, English Channel, November 24th
The yacht ran gently up the rolling swell of the Channel, the slightly oily water running in a soft white crest down the sides below Christophe’s feet at the rail as Gavin stood at the wheel, keeping her turned across the wind. Despite the pressure, the tension, and the still barely suppressed hostility from Sophie, Gavin finally felt relaxed with the deck rolling beneath him. By now, he knew, he was supposed to have started working on his next target, and that he was missing out on training that would serve him well, but it was always a joy when he managed to get out on ‘Venture’.
“Ou somme nous allerons?” Christophe slid along the deck to sit nearby, staring at the water passing by still, as content as Gavin to enjoy the tranquillity of the journey.
“En Chichester.” Gavin explained, quietly. “Et Londres”
“Londres!” Christophe looked up, with a broad beaming smile.
“Christophe, in English please.” Sophie muttered, quietly, amused by his excitement, as she emerged from the cabin. “How much longer will be out? Caerys is… unwell.”
“Is she alright?”
“It’s just mal-de-mer… uh… seasickness.”
“No, I meant… longer term.”
“I don’t understand… longer term… I don’t think it’s a disease.”
“I mean… mentally. She’s got some strange ideas going on inside her head, she hasn’t shared many of them yet, but… Is it something she’ll work out of her system now that she’s out of their influence?” Sophie stared at him a moment, frowning slightly.
“Has freedom from influence given you a better perspective, Mr Connolly?” She crossed her arms, cocking a hip and adopting a laid back but challenging stance. “Has reality struck at you since you’ve been on your own?”
“Touché!” his smile broadened a little as he acknowledged her point, but she carried on regardless.
“Belief in something more than just what you can see and feel and hear and kill, Gavin, isn’t generally considered a mental illness.”
“God, religion, maybe.” He fished inside his loose shirt for a moment. “Magic amulets?”
“Did it work? Are we still being followed?”
“We got free because of experience – changing transport, laying low and moving out in the wake of the search.”
“If you say this, why are you asking? You already believe she is wrong in the head… you can be free of us when we land, no doubt.”
“If she needs help, I’d rather see that she gets it first.”
“Why? You don’t care about people, you just have your job.”
“I don’t get to deal with people, perhaps, but I do what I do because I care, because everyone deserves to have a chance to make something of themselves.”
“Like you have?”
“Most of my chances were taken away long ago.”
“Most?”
“No-one knows the future.”
“You don’t have chances now?”
“Not really.”
“You could give it up, do something else. Sculpt, sing, dance, sail this boat around the world.”
“And would that make anything better?”
“Does it have to?”
“If I don’t, who will?”
“Maybe no-one. Maybe they have to have that chance, too.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged, as the coastline came into sight ahead. “Land.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“It’s definitely land.” He deadpanned, but she just stared at him for a moment. “I know what you’re saying – people need to be able to make their own mistakes. The people I go after aren’t making mistakes, they’re making the same cold, calculating decisions I am, except they don’t mind who they aim at. I do. I can’t offer you anything more than that.”
She waited for a moment, but he didn’t add anything further, and she turned back into the covered area below the deck, leaving him to wonder why he felt he should be able to justify what he did a little better.
‘Venture Upon The Sea’, English Coast, November 24th
Caerys rolled over, her stomach threatening to vent her freedom all over the narrow, curved bunk in the bow.
“Caerys…” Sophie called quietly, swishing the curtain aside and back as she entered the little ‘cabin’ Gavin had told them they could use. “We’ve sighted land… I don’t think it’ll be long now.”
“Thank god.” She muttered, sitting up briefly, then thinking better of it as she lay back down. “Can’t he make it go quicker?”
“I don’t think so. I’m not sure that wouldn’t make it rougher.”
“Slow him down…” she whispered, and Sophie chuckled gently.
“Poor girl.” She reached out, flicking Caerys’ hair back from her face and pressing the cold flannel to her forehead again. “I wish I had something for you, but I don’t. Except the news that it’s nearly over.”
“Ohhhh.” Caerys sat up sharply, and lurched across the cabin towards the little cramped toilet, dry-heaving a long-emptied stomach.
“Talk to me… it might help. The problem is parts of your brain sending out different ideas about what’s happening to you. Gavin thought you might feel better on deck.”
“I tried that…” she shook her head, gasping short sharp breaths as her stomach gave her a brief relief. “It didn’t work.”
“He did start to say something else, but then chose not to. I don’t know what it was.”
“What were you talking about just then? Seemed to go on a while.” Caerys leant back against the wall, content to talk about just about anything if it would make the queasy feeling go away.
“Just… him. Us. This situation. How he could use his own advise and seek some therapy.”
“He thinks you need therapy now? Jerk.”
“Uh… no. Not me.”
“Oh… he thinks I need therapy? Fucking misanthrope.”
“Misanthrope? I don’t know that…. Negative man… isn’t human?”
“Misanthrope, it means… someone that doesn’t like people. He’s a hermit.”
“Well, yes, this is what I tried to tell him. He needs other people’s input or he becomes detached – too detached.”
“So why does he think I need help?”
“Because of the medal he wears – he thinks you think it’s magic.”
“That’s my first guess. It might be technology, but I don’t think that’s what the old man meant.”
“You think it is magic? There are people that would question that view as well.” Sophie pointed out.
“Maybe, but not people who’d seen what you’ve seen, right?” Unbidden, the image of the tank back in the military base came to Sophie’s mind, and she hesitantly, reluctantly nodded. Whatever it had been – and she was reasonably sure it had ever been human – it wasn’t like anything she could explain with conventional science.
“Any sufficiently advanced technology can appear as magic.” She pointed out, quietly.
“Yeah,” Caerys admitted, “but so can magic.”
“We’re here.” Gavin called gently, and they rose to their feet as the boat tilted away from a turn, the motion of the waves changing suddenly against the hull. The pair of them – Sophie slightly more gracefully – made their way through the small dining area and up the narrow stairs to emerge beside Gavin and turn to look at the small harbour.
“Where are we going?” Caerys asked, looking around, seeing a number of small marinas dotted around.
“Over there, to the east, that’s the inlet that leads to Chichester itself. We’ll head west to a little marina just outside of Havant. It’s quieter, and it’s almost certainly closed this time of year – the marina owner spends most of the winter hoisting bouts out the water and scrubbing the hulls for the summer sailors. If I can convince him I’ve moved it down the coast for that, he’ll forget us in minutes and we can be on our way.”
“Then what?” Sophie asked as he turned the boat again, rounding a prominent orange buoy in the middle of the channel.
“Then I’ll buy a car, and we can drive up to London where we can rest, think, decide what we’re going to do next. Plans made in haste will go wrong, we need to pool resources and find out what’s going on.” They were all quiet for a while, Gavin only breaking the silence to warn Christophe to keep his lifejacket on a while longer, and Sophie watched Caerys get a little greyer.
“What was that other seasickness cure you were thinking of?” she asked, looking for anything to talk about.
“It doesn’t matter.” Gavin told her, after stealing a glance at Caerys.
“Thanks!” the red-head snapped back. “Whatever it is, it has to be better than this.”
“It doesn’t matter, I don’t have any jam on board.”
“Jam?” Caerys frowned. “Like, that’s what you guys call jelly, right?” He nodded. “That cures seasickness?”
“No.” he admitted. “But the man that taught me to sail swore by it – he said you can’t stop seasickness, but you can make it taste better on the way back up.” Caerys blanched and headed for the rail.
Havant Marina, November 24th
The boat was tied up, the mooring fees paid and Gavin was finishing his negotiations for the boat to be cleaned by the time Caerys felt comfortable again, laid out beneath the grey sky in the breeze coming in from the harbour. Christophe, tiring fast after the excitement of the morning, was slumped listlessly beside her, and Sophie held herself gently nearby, chilled by the breeze through the thin blouse she wore.
“Did you say you were going to buy a car?” Caerys sat up a little, staring over at Gavin with a deep frown.
“Yes.” He admitted, as he came back. “There’ll be a car car-sales places in the town, it shouldn’t be that hard.”
“You have that sort of cash on you?”
“I’ll pay with a card.” He pointed to his pack on the floor at the end of the bench, reminding Sophie of the sword tucked away in the guitar-case he’d unfolded on the top.
“Won’t they be able to trace us then?” Sophie asked, quietly.
“Qui…” Christophe began, but his mother hushed him.
“In English, Christophe.” She urged him, gently.
“Who… who is following us?”
“We’re not sure.” Gavin admitted, not hesitating at all as Caerys and Sophie paused to choose their phrases. “Soldiers, certainly, but why or from where we don’t know. Caerys’ family are chasing her.”
“Do they want to kill us?”
“Me, almost certainly. Your mother and Caerys, I don’t know.”
“Ferme ta bouche!” Sophie almost screamed at him, strangling off the volume with the stress she put into the words. “Leave him alone.”
“He asked.” Gavin told her, not backing down. “If he’s going to have people shooting at him doesn’t he deserve to know what’s going on?”
“He’s barely six!”
“So? It’s only because you’re such a bleeding heart I haven’t given him a gun yet.”
“Don’t you remember your childhood?” Caerys asked, stepping between them slightly.
“Intimately.” Gavin turned the cold stare on her. “By his age I had my own Lee Enfield .303 and could put out five shots into a two inch target at 300 yards inside fifteen seconds.”
“That doesn’t sound like much of a childhood.” She whispered, and there was a catch in her voice that spoke not of empathy but sympathy. Gavin shook the feeling away.
“Come on, we’re not achieving anything here.” Snatching up his bags, he started walking, forcing the others to follow.
“Do you know this area well?” Sophie finally asked, when they’d gotten him to slow a little, and he’d shown no signs of asking directions.
“I grew up in Portsmouth, it’s a few miles up the coast.” He pointed west, sounding a little distant. “My father – my adoptive father – is in the Royal Navy.”
“Are we going there?” Caerys asked, filling the strange silence that followed. “Or don’t you want to drag him into things?”
“He thinks I’m dead.” Gavin explained, the coldness back once more. “Wait here, the car dealership is just around the corner.” Dropping the bags, he continued alone, leaving Sophie and Caerys staring at each other.
“I wish I knew how the hell he does that.” Caerys managed, after a few minutes.
“Did what?” Sophie managed, turning to keep an eye on Christophe as he played leapfrog over the bollards along the edge of the road.
“Every time I think he can’t surprise me any more, he manages it.”
“What was it this time? The money?”
“No, this ‘he thinks I’m dead’ line. Like you’d say ‘he thinks I’m in Spain’.”
“We don’t really know anything about him…he scares me.”
“I think I’m beyond being scared, any more.” Caerys admitted, after a while. “I’m free, now, I’m not going to waste that being scared.” She started, slightly, as Sophie gently wrapped her arms around her.
“Some day you’re going to tell me all about what it is that makes you so happy to be in middle of all this when I’m terrified.” The tremble in her arms was noticeable since Gavin had disappeared from sight, and Caerys realised the hug wasn’t for her benefit at all. Hugging back gently, she shook her head.
“No, you don’t want to hear it, I promise you.” She whispered, after a few seconds, as Christophe came to see what was happening. “Come on, let’s catch up with him a little.”
“Do you really feel comfortable around him?” Sophie asked, disengaging herself, slowly.
“Comfortable? I don’t know… I don’t feel comfortable with the situation, I don’t know if that’s him.” She shrugged. “I feel safer near him than far away… near that amulet, too.”
“Do you really think that thing’s magic?”
“Don’t you?”
“I… no, I don’t think so.” Sophie finally shook her head. “I don’t know what I saw back in Paris, but… I can’t believe it was magic.”
“Maybe it wasn’t.” Caerys shrugged, turning the corner and seeing the car dealership part-way down the road. “But that amulet is, I’d put money on it.”
“Can you do magic?” Christophe tugged on Caerys’ sleeve, gently.
“Some.” She admitted. “Not much, but some.”
“Show me!” he urged her, but Sophie hushed her as Gavin pulled out onto the road in a car.
“Couldn’t wait?” he wondered, sarcastically, as he eyed the corner they’d come around.
“You’re forgetting the amulet.” Caerys pointed out.
“I was trying to.” He noted. “You’re sure you don’t want to wear it?”
“No, he meant it for you.”
“Of course he did… come on, get in.”
Portsdown Hill, Portsmouth, November 24th
“Thirteen fifty please mate.” The fat cook muttered, swaying the small caravan as he walked across to the till with the twenty pound note. Behind him, hair streaming out in the stiff breeze coming up from the harbour, Sophie and Caerys stared at the filled baps Gavin had passed them with some trepidation.
“You’re sure this is fit to eat?” Caerys asked him, as the change arrived, getting a dirty look from the cook
“You have roadside diners in the States,” Gavin explained with a grin, “we have burger vans in lay-bys and car-parks. It’s a cultural thing.” Christophe was already tucking into his burger with obvious gusto, and Sophie grudgingly did the same. Once they were out of immediate earshot, Gavin’s grin disappeared, and he dropped back a little.
“I told you to keep quiet.” He pitched his voice low, but the tone was cold.
“I’m not allowed to speak, now?” Caerys turned a disbelieving look on him.
“People are following us, we’re trying not to stand out. A guy out with family in friends no-one will remember. A guy out with a good-looking American woman and pretty French Doctor would stand out a little more in the memory.
Having your produce challenged by a stroppy yank, that’s going to leave a lasting impression. I am trying to keep you safe.” He stalked off ahead towards the car, leaving the two women to struggle along behind on the steep path.
“Did you hear that?” Sophie said, after a few moments silence, watching Christophe and Gavin perch on the edge of the car-park, overlooking the city below them.
“What? About ‘trying to keep us safe’, like the amulet won’t do it?”
“No.” She smiled gently. “About being a good-looking American woman and pretty French doctor.”
“So he has eyes and ears.”
“But he hasn’t been making personal observations up until now, he’s tried to stay distant and clinical.”
“Riiight?” Caerys sounded confused, muttering around the bacon roll that was actually quite good. “I don’t get what you’re so impressed about.”
“It means we’re finally getting through to him.”
“Do we want to?” She paused long enough to swallow, and carried on in a clearer voice. “Don’t we just need to keep with him until the danger’s gone, then get shot of him?”
“Maybe.” Sophie nodded. “Probably, in fact. But do you have any idea how long that’s likely to take?”
“No.” the red-head admitted. “Look at him, he’s nearly finished already.”
“So has Christophe.” Sophie pointed, and then paused slightly as she watched him try to plant his hand on the bollard and swing down as Gavin had done.
“Are you worried about him copying Gavin?” Caerys asked, seeing where the glance was going.
“It’s inevitable, I think.” She whispered. “It’s the only man he’s been around for any length of time since Henri left.”
“Husband?” Sophie shook her head, gently.
“An error of judgement.” The hug, this time, was entirely for Sophie’s benefit, and more than welcome.
Sutton, Surrey, November 24th
It was early afternoon, and the rain had barely begun when Gavin pulled the nondescript Vauxhall into the gravel drive of the manor house, easing along the narrow path until he could pull up close to the door.
“This is another one of yours?” Caerys asked, quietly, the first anyone had spoken for more than hour. Christophe began to wake as the motion of the car changed, and Sophie half-listened as she turned to make sure he was alright.
“Yeah. This and the old crofter’s cottage on the other side of the estate. It’s close enough to London to be convenient, but distant enough to be private.”
Opening the door he stepped out into the rain, quickly punching a code into the lock on the door, and pushing it open for them when they were ready. Grabbing his gear from the boot, he was still the first into the hallway, and placed the stuff down quietly as he moved swiftly through to check that nothing had been disturbed whilst he’d been away.
“Tea? Coffee?” he asked, as they other three trekked in, and gestured them towards a large, well-furnished sitting room with broad windows looking over the town at the foot of the hill and the little river that wended its way through.
“A cup of tea would be nice.” Sophie acknowledged, wondering at Gavin’s quiet, polite tone.
“Coffee, milk, no sugar.” Caerys muttered, taking in the room, apparently not noticing Gavin’s behaviour.
“I’ll get the kettle on, then I’ll go fetch some wood for the fire.”
“You have a real fire?” That caught Caerys’ attention, and he nodded, uncertain of her tone.
“Yeah, why… is that a problem?”
“No… I like wood-fires.” She looked at the hefty stone mantle and hearth, wondering how much she might be able to read in the flames, and smiled gently as he left to see to the drinks. Christophe flitted here and there around the room for a few minutes until Gavin came back with some milk for him, and then disappeared again. Within a quarter of an hour there was a healthy heat coming from the fireplace, and Gavin had disappeared again – to cut more wood, he said – leaving the three of them alone.
“Christophe, what are you doing?” Sophie asked him, as he bobbed and weaved behind the heavy sofa she was sat on.
“I’m shooting soldiers, like Gavin did in Le Havre.” He enthused, pointing at the fire and letting loose again. Sophie’s face paled, and Caerys patted her knee gently.
“Don’t all kids play like this?”
“Yes.” Sophie admitted. “But they pick it up from films… Would you keep an eye on Christophe, I have to speak to Gavin.” Caerys nodded, and Sophie wound her way through the building to the back.
Outside in the yard, Gavin had shed his shirt and the unpowered spectacles he’d been wearing, and she watched for a few moments as his powerful frame swung the wood-axe with controlled strength, splitting chunk after chunk of wood and creating a small pile to fuel them through the evening. She watched the play of the muscles across his shoulders and chest, noticing the ease and grace as much as she catalogued the scars and blemishes, and then jumped a little when he spoke.
“Did you want something, Sophie?” He looked up, hard grey eyes boring into hers, and she felt herself flush a little under the gaze, as she realised he knew what she’d been doing.
“I wanted to talk to you about Christophe.” She finally managed, stepping out through the doorway.
“What about him?”
“He’s… he’s going to be curious. About you.”
“Understandable. You are.” She nodded, admitting it, and carried on.
“Not like that, though. He’ll want to copy you, to… he’ll want to shoot a gun and have a sword and shoot bad men.”
“Bad guys.” He corrected, gently, resting on the axe for a moment. “I take it you’d rather that didn’t happen?” She just nodded. “Very well, I won’t teach him anything directly. If I need to act, though, I won’t be able to hold back just because he’s watching.”
“I know.” He moved to start chopping again, and she stepped forward. “Did you really start shooting so young?”
“Shooting, running, climbing, martial arts. My father was career military, his father was before him, back seven generations. I used to have medals stretching back through the Crimean war and beyond, when I was at home. I was brought up to be a soldier, of one sort or another.”
“Were you?” He turned his wrist over, showing her the faint remains of a tattoo on the inside of his wrist. “42 Commando?”
“A Royal Marine platoon.” He explained. “That’s where I died.”
“Why?” she finally managed, wondering for a moment if she'd mistranslated his comment, then realising what he meant.
“Because… because it needed to happen.” He snatched at the axe, returning to his work, slamming the axe more forcefully this time, the chunks coming off the block mismatched and splintered.
“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to upset you.” She offered, quietly.
“Not your fault.” He muttered, swinging again.
“What are we going to do now?”
“Well, this evening I’m hoping to work out where in Caerys’ twisted view of reality her family fit in, and why they’re strapping her to a rock, then maybe I can work out what’s going on.”
“They wanted to sacrifice me.” Caerys said, from the doorway, startling them both – Sophie wondered briefly at Gavin’s surprise. “My mother was a Seer, so was her mother. I have powerful blood, they wanted to use that.”
“And you believe this?” Gavin snapped, still angry with himself, and discomfited to have people around after so long.
“Of course.” Caerys admitted. “I have the gift myself.”
“OK, look.” Gavin leant on the axe again, turning his gaze on the American. “I don’t have time to wade through whatever neo-hippy, new-age, post-Wiccan, nut-job quasi-religion you’re spouting. I just want the facts – who, what, where and why, and then maybe we can get on with solving this.”
“Fuck you!” Caerys snapped back. “It’s not religion, it’s not new and it sure as hell ain’t ‘hippy’. It’s old magic, blood magic, and just because you’ve got your head wedged up your own ass, don’t think you can tell me it ain’t real.”
“Caerys, grow up!”
“Fuck this, I’m out of here.” She turned, and Sophie grabbed at her arm, gently.
“Stay, we need his protection.”
“If he can’t see that this goes beyond guns and money, his protection isn’t going to last. They’re going to come, and they’re going to do it with magic – old magic. If they catch me, maybe they’ll leave you alone.” Stalking away she was quickly out of sight, and Gavin turned and hurled the axe across the yard, burying it several inches into the wooden wall of the shed.
“That’s it?” Sophie asked.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Stop her. Follow her. Do something.” She snapped, listening as an engine started up somewhere.
“That’s my bike!” Gavin snapped, slipping past her and into the hallway, but through the open doorway he saw the jet black Norton speed away along the drive in a shower of gravel. “Damn!”
“What are we going to do?” Sophie almost cried, and Gavin turned, feeling edgy.
“Follow her, I guess.” He finally conceded, seeing the pleading look in her eyes. “Let me get a shirt, she should stand out. Everyone else in the country has to wear a crash-helmet.”
“Can you catch her?” Sophie followed him up the stairs, Christophe struggling to keep up.
“I know the roads better than she does.” He pointed out. “She’ll head for town to look for information and people, she should be easy to find in there.”
Grabbing a t-irt from a wardrobe he quickly slipped off his shoes as he tugged the material over his sweat-dampened skin, and then pulled a different pair from the bottom of the wardrobe.
“Come on!” Sophie urged him, and he paused again at the bottom of the stairs, holding up a hand to calm her. “Co…” she started again, but his hand clamped across her mouth, and his eyes were flat and hard as he stood stock still and listened.
Something growled in the hallway, and he tensed, waiting, then struck out with a foot, connecting solidly with something just out of sight around the corner. Following the kick, he dropped down the last two steps, sinking low beneath a hastily thrown hook, and launched his elbow up underneath a jaw balanced by an elongated skull.
The guttural, snarling growl came from the distended figure, and Sophie muffled a scream as Gavin leapt back out the way of a vicious swipe from an opponent he expected to be on the floor by now. Feinting high he lashed out with low kick that snapped the knee joint, then drove the inside of his knee into the already damaged jaw to end the threat.
“How did they find us?” Sophie whimpered, trying to hide the sight from Christophe’s eyes, but Gavin just shook his head.
“Charisma!” he called, and the disembodied computer voice Sophie’d heard at the residence in Paris returned.
“Yes, Gavin.”
“Take Christophe to the cellar, keep him there. Once we’re clear of the gates… blow the gas valves.”
“Of course.” Sophie just looked bewildered as Gavin grasped her arm and pulled her along with him. He grabbed his pistols from the packs in the hallway, then dragged them over to the wood-panelling. Pressing a catch opened up one of the panels, and he pushed the bags into a lift there, motioning for Christophe to follow. He did, curling up tight to fit in with the packs, and Gavin leant down to him.
“Keep quiet, do what Charisma tells you. We’ll be back.” He nodded, large-eyed, and Sophie tried to grab for him as Gavin held her back. All she caught was the chain of the medallion from the top of the packs, and then the door was shut.
“He’ll be safe down there.” Gavin assured her with a little more confidence than he felt. She nodded, eventually, and slipped the medallion over his head.
“It can’t hurt...” she told him, seeing the look on his face. “What if she’s right?”
“Not you too?” he turned away, pulling her with him and headed for the door, unloading two quick shots at targets in the bushes that she didn’t see. Both were accompanied by the sound of falling bodies.
“How else can you explain them?” She pointed to where one of the lumped figures jutted out from the plant-life, and has paused momentarily to take in the enlarge musculature, the distended skull and the wicked looking clawed hands.
“I don’t try.” He finally decided, pressing the key-lock and opening the car. “Not without more information. Get in.” She did, hesitantly, looking back at the house, and he paused to stare at her, speaking softly – almost warmly. “Sophie, I promise you… he’ll be fine. We need to go before the other … things… get here.” He pointed towards the fallen body, and she shuddered and slipped into the passenger seat.
Gavin gunned the engine and sped off down the drive, leaving his own shower of gravel to settle behind them.
Godalming, Surrey, November 24th
Caerys finally slowed the bike when she almost missed her third turning, scraping her arm on the overhanging hedgerow. The first missed turning had been the surprisingly sharp exit from the drive, and the second – several minutes later – hadn’t been the road at all, but the impressive thump of an explosion from somewhere behind her. That started her worrying, which started her thinking about her father. That started her swearing, which she finally decided was at Gavin more than anyone.
“Fucking ignorant prick.” She swore, venting her frustrations on him rather than her arm, and slowed a little more to take the tight turn into the village itself, wondering at the stares she got from the locals as she slipped between cars on the narrow road. The buildings clustered close to the road on one side, and a broad, shallow, swan-infested lake hugged the edge on the other side, which would have been picturesque under other circumstances. What distracted her, though, was the hulking, deformed pair of monstrosities that lurched into the street ahead of her, loping forward on knuckles and stunted, twisted, powerful hind legs.
“What the fuck?” she braked hard, almost stalling as she desperately fiddled with the unfamiliar clutch, slipping down two gears, and turned hard left onto the little hump-backed bridge across the middle of the lake. She risked a look over her shoulder, once the bike settled back onto the flat of the road and she could ramp up the power a little, which was why she almost ran into the side of the little delivery van that screeched to a halt in front of her.
“Fuck!” dropping the bike, she turned to face the two beasts, seeing the frothing drool spilling from their distorted mouths as they crested the bridge. High walls bordered the road, and although she thought she could get back to the bridge before they cleared it she didn’t think she’d get away from them through the water. Tears started as she began to fear that freedom had come to an end, when two clear shots rang out over the water, and the pair fell not six feet from where she stood, looking over the twitching bodies to where Gavin stood at the lakeside.
“Morning.” He finally called, in a deceptively calm voice. “This would probably be a good time to leave.” Sophie huddled behind him, and he turned to point along the road to where a cluster of glaze-eyed men were advancing down the street, bundling the locals out of the way without any pretence of gentleness.
“That way.” Gavin muttered to Caerys, as she drew level with them, pointing down a narrow street. “Past the first junction, then to the right, the car’s there. I’ll catch up with you, Sophie’s got my phone, Charisma is the first number on it.”
“What are you going to do?” Caerys asked, as Sophie stepped back a little from the oncoming crowd.
“Keep them busy.” He raised the pistols, fired off a shot from each, and pushed her on her way. “Go!”
Sophie clutched at her arm, and she frowned for a moment, then turned to run, quickly overtaking the shorter woman and dragging her behind. Sophie stumbled and pitched forward, cutting her knee on the cobbled pavement, but was quickly up and following as shots rang out behind them.
“Keep running!” Gavin shouted, somewhere behind them, and ahead of them another of the hulking, slavering, twisted monstrosities appeared.
“Fuck!” Caerys swore, slowing in her run, looking for a side-road. Another shot rang out, the bullet whistling as it passed over them, and the figure ahead pitched onto the floor, blood spilling out of its ruined skull. Caerys tugged Sophie onward, past the body, grasping at a heavy-bladed knife it appeared to have been carrying, and then slowed again as another crowd of strangely vague-eyed people appeared before her.
“What the fuck is going on?” she wondered, knowing there wasn’t an answer coming. No shot rang out from Gavin behind them, this time, and she turned right into a narrow, cobbled street between overhanging buildings, pounding as fast as she could with a sobbing, cringing Sophie caught in a tight grip. Rounding another corner, she slowed a little at the darkness ahead of her, quickly realising there was a wall at the end of the road, and turned to find the mob filling the gap behind.
Hefting the knife, she pushed Sophie as far back as she could, and wondered vaguely how many she might be able to get before they pulled her down.
Godalming, Surrey, November 24th
The pistols now empty, Gavin had led the group chasing him an easy chase for a while, leading them down a blind alley while he hoisted himself up onto the rooftops to get by them, pausing briefly to watch their activity as they quickly turned on each other.
“Stupid, aggressive.” He observed, dashing along the wall, watching one figure hoist another effortlessly over its head and hurl it into a wall. “Strong…” he dropped back down to the street, listened carefully to try and filter out the sounds, and headed in the direction of Sophie’s familiar scream.
He slowed at the corner, eyeing the nearby windows for signs of anyone in the alley the sound was coming from. Seeing they were all some distance from the entrance, he peered around, trying to make out some details of the activity.
Caerys and Sophie stood, back to back, at the closed end of the alleyway, eyes darting back and forth between the dozen or so unkempt figures surrounding them. Caerys had her knife at the ready, but they were both tense and edgy, and if something happened he didn’t rate their chances of getting free. They might take one or two with them, but they wouldn’t make it. That posed a problem… If he started a melee and they were still there, they’d be cut to pieces before he could get close enough to make a difference.
What he needed to do,he realised, was provide them with another target. Stepping out into the open, silhouetting himself against the light of the open road behind him, he called out, his clear, crisp voice carrying easily in the chill autumn air.
“Our Sovereign Lady the Queen chargeth and commandeth all persons, being assembled, immediately to disperse themselves, and peaceably to depart to their habitations, or to their lawful business, upon the pains contained in the Act made in the first year of King George the First for preventing tumults and riotous assemblies. God Save the Queen.”
“What the hell?” The nearest of the thugs grunted, and started walking towards him, and the attention of the others had turned towards him as well.
“The Riot Act.” Gavin explained, beginning to walk forward. “You are now legally obliged to disperse.”
“Fuck off, before you get hurt.” The gap was narrowing rapidly – as he digested the fact they were after the women and not him – and for the briefest moment
Gavin wondered if the others were going to move towards him as well. With the space down to perhaps ten feet they broke towards him, knives, chains and crowbars appearing, the baser tendencies of heightened testosterone coming to the fore.
Smiling coldly Gavin sped up, and the dance was joined.
Rising warily from her crouch as the men turned away, Caerys didn’t ease her grip on the knife in the slightest, for fear her trembling would tumble it from her grip. Helping Sophie stand, clutching at one another’s arms, they watched the dozen drug-crazed, steroid-boosted men hurl themselves at the lithe, lean figure of Gavin, and winced, waiting for the impact.
Gavin just spun, hands and feet lancing out, never slowing his advance through the alleyway, but leaving behind him a collection of huddled, pained figures. Cracking bone and short, sharp, agonised screams came down to them, heralding his advance, but he emerged from the group unscathed, steam rising gently from his shoulders as he turned to face the remnants of the group.
This time they advanced more cautiously, coming in pairs and threes, but the result was the same. Sophie winced and shuddered with each noise, burying her face in Caerys side, but the redhead was mesmerised by it all as she slowly wrapped an arm about the Doctor’s shoulders to comfort her.
Caerys had seen warriors of all sorts and styles, sizes and shapes, but none of them had looked like this. Agility and speed combined with strength, control and a grace that took him out of the conflict completely. It looked like he was dancing amidst a troupe of clowns, weaving and sliding, easing past lethality with a calm that belied the situation.
She found herself holding her breath as the melee peaked, the sound suddenly ceasing as Gavin landed silently on the balls of his feet, small puffs of condensing breath emerging from his mouth the only sign that he’d moved at all. About him thirteen silent, broken bodies lay where they’d fallen, one of them twitching slightly, and he drew himself upright with a deep breath, holding a hand out to her.
“Come on. There will be more.”
“That was fucking incredible!” Caerys almost screamed, hissing her admiration as he almost dragged Sophie back down the alleyway towards the road. He paused, his head canting to one side, suddenly tense, and as he turned to look back along the road, a bullet punched through the front of his shirt and slammed him back against the wall to slump to the floor.