The Burning Man, page 9
part #2 of Kingdom of the Serpent Series
‘We fight our way back here.’
‘You really are pig-headed.’
Mallory shrugged. ‘I don’t like hiding. It’s not in my nature. You can stay here if you want. I’ll cover you with branches.’
‘No thanks,’ Sophie replied. ‘I think I’ll come along just to hear whatever creative excuses you come up with when everything goes pear-shaped.’
‘You’re so negative.’ Mallory wandered off, whistling. ‘You need to enjoy life more.’
In the sizzling, hissing confines of a café patronised by early-morning workers, they ate their breakfast at a table with a clear view of the dawn-bright street.
‘I don’t understand you,’ Sophie said. ‘You actually seem happy to be doing this.’
‘Whichever way you cut it, it’s better than the life I had before. I suppose it boils down to slavery and freedom.’ He sipped his tea thoughtfully. ‘You can be a slave to all sorts of things – fear, guilt, self-loathing. You can be a slave by trying to keep yourself from feeling anything, trapped in a little world where you know all the boundaries. You throw yourself into everything the world has to offer without any fear, yeah, you suffer. You encounter a lot of bad things. But it’s exhilarating.’ He chose his words carefully. ‘We were all made to experience. Good or bad. It’s about learning. And by giving yourself up to that you become free.’
‘A philosopher, too.’ Sophie had intended the comment to be faintly sarcastic, but it came out tinged with admiration.
‘I’ve experienced so many bad things.’ Caitlin stared into Mallory’s face as if he had given her some great revelation. ‘My husband and son died, in that other life. That almost destroyed me. I want some of those other experiences. The good ones.’
Her words touched Mallory. ‘We’ll make sure you get some.’
‘I think we should move from here soon.’ Jerzy had been intently watching the street throughout the meal.
‘You’ve seen something?’ Sophie asked.
Jerzy lifted the edge of the blanket so that his mask caught the light. ‘I think I see shapes … people … but they fade like the mist.’
‘What’s up with you, then?’ A burly man with grey hair coiffured like a fifties movie star leaned across his fry-up to peer at Jerzy. ‘You in a play or something?’
‘That’s right, mate.’ Jerzy slipped into fluent cockney. ‘Have to keep the image up when I’m off the stage.’
The burly man nodded. ‘Your mask – it’s the one that old music hall star used to wear, ain’t it?’
‘That’s right. Max Masque.’ A note of warm surprise was clear in Jerzy’s voice.
‘My old man loved him. Saw him up in the Smoke when he was a kid. He still remembers some of the old routines. Wears a bit thin when you’ve heard ’em a hundred times, but keeps him happy.’
‘You can’t beat the old stuff,’ Jerzy said proudly.
Caitlin pointed past him through the window. ‘Foxes!’
Ten russet forms darted across the street, investigating one shop, then another, and another, drawing closer all the time. The burly man and the other diners were drawn by the spectacle.
‘Oh, that’s beautiful,’ Caitlin said.
‘And weird,’ Sophie added, frowning.
As the foxes crossed the street, they stepped into direct sunlight and disappeared. Sophie caught her breath. The animals reappeared in the shade on the other side of the road. ‘Yes, definitely weird. Let’s get out of here.’
The foxes’ purposeful movement turned from mesmerising to unsettling. They shimmered as they ran and often appeared mistily insubstantial. Mallory’s hand went instinctively to his side, reaching for a sword that wasn’t there.
‘Foxes,’ Caitlin said distantly. The wonder faded from her face, and her eyes narrowed. She palmed a knife from the table.
‘That won’t do much good against a …’ Mallory paused. ‘What do you call a group of foxes?’
‘Dead.’ Caitlin was still and cold.
‘You see what you get for banning hunting,’ the burly man said. ‘Bloody Labour.’
As the foxes neared the café, their eyes began to glow with emerald fire. They ran purposefully, their prey identified.
‘Oh dear,’ Jerzy said.
The foxes leaped as one towards the window, but instead of shattering the glass they passed through it, becoming smoke, fluidly changing shape again inside the café on the graceful downward arc of their leap. When they landed at the front of the café, they were foxes no more. Ten slim, strong, oriental men balanced athletically on their toes, poised to throw themselves forward. They wore loose-fitting brown silk, but their faces had a vulpine cast, their eyes still glowing green.
The one at the front scanned the café’s occupants. When his gaze fell on Mallory, Sophie, Caitlin and Jerzy, he smiled slyly.
‘Greeting,’ he said with a heavy Chinese accent, ‘from the Hu Hsien.’
To the surprise of the others, it was Jerzy who stepped forward. ‘You serve the Devourer of All Things. Like all the foulest things in Existence, you have crawled over to its side.’
The leader’s nostrils flared. ‘You dishonour us with your tone. We demand respect.’
‘Demand away,’ Mallory said.
‘Our master, the King of Foxes, received a request for aid. It was delivered with utmost respect to our Great Dominion, and so we have responded.’ He gave a small bow. ‘We know of your power and prestige in this world. We hold a great funeral once you are gone.’
‘You’re not going to stop us,’ Caitlin said.
‘Sadly, not true. You cannot be allowed to cross the boundary to the Far Lands. Your time has passed.’ His left hand snaked out from his side and touched the chest of the bemused burly man, continued through his shirt, his flesh, his bone. When the leader withdrew it, he clutched the still-beating heart. The burly man stared at it in dopey bemusement before emitting a small whimper and keeling over.
Jerzy gave an anguished cry. A sales rep with a garish yellow tie lurched desperately towards the exit. The features of the shapeshifter closest to him fluidly transformed into those of a fox, though the body remained human. Lunging with snapping jaws, it tore the face clean off the sales rep. A shake of its snout and the flesh was swallowed, blood spraying from its whiskers. The leader gave a smile that was mockingly contrite, and then the Hu Hsien advanced as one, those at the rear eliminating the now-screaming diners with efficient brutality.
Sophie was only shaken from her shock when a kitchen knife flashed past her ear and embedded itself in the shoulder of one of the Hu Hsien. His expression registered disbelief, and before that thought had left his mind, Caitlin, who had thrown the knife, was upon him with a second knife. She rammed the blade upwards through his jaw and into his brain.
Sophie was astonished at the transformation that had come over her new friend. Caitlin moved with balletic grace and strength, her face now a warrior’s, hard and focused. She had already slain another of the Hu Hsien before Jerzy’s cry alerted them from the rear of the café. He had found the back door through which the kitchen staff had bolted. Mallory propelled Sophie towards it, and then grabbed Caitlin’s arm as she prepared to confront the remaining snarling, now-wary Hu Hsien.
Out on the street, they ran for the cathedral as a wild barking rose up. The Hu Hsien gave pursuit, now fox, now human, now something of both.
‘I seriously need a sword, like Church’s,’ Mallory snarled.
As they threw themselves inside the newly opened cathedral, blue sparks crackled from their feet.
‘We’re not going to outrun them,’ Sophie gasped.
Jerzy stood in their path, arms outstretched. ‘Wait, friends. We are safe. The Blue Fire in the ground, here in your own Great Dominion, makes this a place of sanctuary. Those loathsome things will not be able to set foot in here.’
Sophie saw that Jerzy was right. The Hu Hsien hovered along the cathedral’s boundary in human form, their eyes glittering with malice.
‘Next time there will be a reckoning,’ the leader said. The group moved back, their bodies folding into fox-form, then shimmering into nothingness as they slipped into the morning sunlight.
‘What were they?’ Mallory leaned against the cool stone to catch his breath.
‘There are many secrets in the vast spread of Existence,’ Jerzy began hesitantly. ‘Each of the races populating this wondrous place only sees a small fragment of all there is. None have the great view of the complete tapestry.’
‘And you know more?’ Mallory said suspiciously. ‘What makes you so well informed?’
Jerzy’s breath caught in his throat. He chewed a knuckle, unsure whether he had already said too much.
‘Leave him, Mallory,’ Sophie said.
‘The Golden Ones – the Tuatha Dé Danann – believe they are the centre of Existence,’ Jerzy continued hastily. ‘They are not. There are many races of power, each overseeing their own Great Dominion, in this world and the Otherworld. And there were many greater powers before, and above, and beyond. The Hu Hsien serve the King of Foxes in the Great Dominion to the east. Most of these powers still slumber as they have done for an age, waiting to be awakened. Why the Hu Hsien are active, I do not know.’
‘They were determined to stop us crossing to the Far Lands,’ Caitlin noted, ‘which suggests to me that we’re doing the right thing.’
‘What happened to you back there?’ Sophie said. ‘You were scary.’
Caitlin looked haunted. ‘I just reacted. It was instinct.’ Massaging her temples, she struggled to recall fleeting memories. ‘Things I learned … that the person I used to be learned … Sorry, I’m not making any sense.’
‘If you can do that again, I’ll have you in the thick of it any time,’ Mallory said.
Caitlin smiled with honest gratitude at the praise. Curiously, Sophie noted a faint, uncomfortable expression cross Mallory’s face.
Jerzy urged them through the vast, ringing silence of the cathedral and behind the altar to a little chapel built in the memory of Thomas à Becket. Inside, the air was suffused with so much energy it felt like a storm was brewing.
‘Wow,’ Sophie said dreamily.
‘What now?’ Mallory ranged around the chapel, apparently oblivious to the euphoric atmosphere.
‘Can’t you see it?’ Caitlin dropped to her knees to indicate a near-invisible filigree of Blue Fire running in a spiral pattern on the stone floor.
‘Your true sight is returning,’ Jerzy said. ‘You are becoming who you were always meant to be.’
‘Here, I think.’ Caitlin traced the spiral to its nexus. She looked round at the others, hesitantly raised her hand, then plunged it into the focal point. There was a flash of the pure blue of a summer sky, and then the room was empty.
2
‘These are the Last Days! This is the End-Time!’ the wild-haired man roared as he pushed through the crowds traipsing through the hall of Heathrow Airport Terminal Three. He thrust badly scrawled leaflets into the hands of reluctant passers-by. Shavi requested one.
‘Why do you encourage the nuts?’ Laura sighed.
‘The next great prophet will not be the person you imagine,’ Shavi replied. ‘They never have been. Visionaries will rise up from the great mass of the people in unforeseen places. I like to investigate all possibilities.’ He gave his oddly peaceful smile. ‘Who would wish to say they walked past the wisest person in the land without a second glance?’
‘Yes, it’s true. You are completely barking.’
Church’s attention remained on the armed, black-flak-jacketed members of the Police Elite Firearms Unit who were patrolling the airport in response to what the media was describing as ‘a major terrorist attack’ in London’s West End the previous night.
Ruth slipped an arm through his. ‘There are seats on a flight to Oslo,’ she said. ‘Do you still want to do this? We’re so exposed here. No Blue Fire to keep us safe.’
‘It’s the quickest route. If we can just stay off the radar long enough—’
Her dark eyes were fixed firmly on his, and he realised she wasn’t listening to a word he was saying. ‘What do the words “Always Forever” mean?’ she asked.
‘What kind of question is that?’
‘They’re echoing around in my head. I think I’m starting to remember …’ Then, for no clear reason, she hugged him tightly. ‘I’m so glad we found each other again,’ she whispered.
As he held her, Church became aware of odd looks and sly glances, rising out of nowhere like the first wind of winter blowing through the crowd. A young boy was pointing at him, laughing with amazement. His mother’s expression was a dark reflection of her child’s, her eyes darting like an animal’s as she attempted to haul the boy away.
Laura grabbed his arm. ‘The balloon’s gone up.’ She nodded towards the large TV screens suspended over the terminal that had been showing BBC News 24 coverage of the deployment of more troops in the Middle East. It now featured grainy CCTV footage of four people breaking into Oxford Circus Tube Station. Around it were blown-up close-ups of himself, Ruth, Laura and Shavi, below which ran the legends ‘FIRST TERRORIST PICTURES’ and ‘SECURITY FORCES SEARCH FOR SUSPECTS’.
‘I don’t believe it. They’re trying to blame us for what happened?’ Ruth said.
‘Come on.’ Church urged the three of them into the crowd.
‘To the check-in desk?’ Laura asked.
Church felt responsible for the glimmer of fear in her eyes; he should have been smarter, faster. ‘It’s too late for that now. Get outside, find somewhere to lie low for a while.’
As they pushed past the cases and rucksacks, ripples of anxiety ran throughout the milling crowd. Overhead their faces looked down, frozen in the guilt of their horrific actions.
Soon space was opening up so they could run, but that made the situation even worse for it isolated and identified them, and brought even more pointing hands and shouts of alarm. When they were two hundred feet from the doors, ten members of the Elite Firearms Unit surged in, guns at the ready.
‘Split up,’ Church said. They scattered in different directions. The volume of travellers would have made it easy to fade into the background under normal circumstances, but the blue splashes of the armed police were moving in from all sides, their numbers swelling by the second. As Church hurried to the stairs to the upper floor he lost sight of Shavi and Ruth, but he saw Laura surrounded by four officers. She dodged, and when her way was blocked mouthed something clearly unpleasant. A gun butt came down hard on the back of her skull. Church wanted to rush to her aid, but knew there was nothing he could do.
On the upper floor, he slowed to a walk and tried to merge into the crowds, but he could see the CCTV cameras moving to follow his path. The police closed in on him not far from the open-plan bar. The crowds mysteriously evaporated and he was surrounded with seven guns trained on him.
‘Kneel,’ the police commander barked, ‘or we shoot.’
Beyond the circle of police, the faces of the airport users watched him, filled with equal measures of hatred and fear.
3
The holding cell in the Heathrow Security Annexe was painted magnolia, even the reinforced steel blast door. There was one bench and no windows. The strip light glared, and there was a faint electronic hum that set the nerves on edge.
‘Any other good plans, Church-dude?’ Laura nursed the back of her head where blood caked her blonde hair.
‘Stop whining. I don’t hear you suggesting anything constructive,’ Ruth snapped. A puffy bruise was growing just beneath her left eye.
‘Ah, shut up. Let’s face it – we never had a chance. A handful of people against the world? Like we were actually going to achieve anything.’
‘Why don’t you join Shavi? Do us all a favour.’ Ruth nodded to Shavi who sat cross-legged in one corner, deep in meditation.
‘Stop fighting,’ Church ordered. ‘If Mallory, Sophie and Caitlin did their job, we still have a chance of getting away.’
‘You’re expecting a last-minute rescue?’ Laura said sullenly. ‘I don’t want to burst your bubble, but I wouldn’t trust those three to find their own arses in a dark room.’
Ruth sat next to Church. ‘This might be the last we see of each other,’ she said quietly. ‘They’re going to split us up, ship us off to Belmarsh, the full terrorist route. It’s not fair. We only just found each other again.’
Church took her hand. He was still searching for some meaningful words when the heavy lock rang out and the door swung open. Two armed and helmeted policemen flanked a senior officer. He still wore his flak jacket, but he had left his helmet behind. He was in his forties with silvery hair, and though his gaze was cold and steady, occasionally a tremor disturbed his features, an involuntary facial tic that Church had seen before. There was a faint disconnectedness about him, too, the result of his mind trying to process twin thought-tracks – his own and that of the spider that was doubtless embedded somewhere in his body.
‘Get up,’ he said. ‘You’re going on a short ride. We need to get you fitted for cuffs and leg-irons.’ Though there was no obvious sign in the officer’s words, Church was certain that none of them would be reaching their destination.
The men levelled their weapons for emphasis. Church and Ruth stood up. Laura gently stirred Shavi. When he stretched, he turned his good eye to Church and blinked slowly, a knowing sign that puzzled Church.
Ruth and Laura looked to Church. He nodded to them to proceed.
‘That’s right, be clever,’ the officer said.
Behind the police, a figure loomed. ‘All right, stand down. I don’t know – give boys guns and there’s always trouble.’ Hunter flashed his credentials to the senior officer, who was clearly taken aback.
‘Commander Hunter? This is a police operation—’
‘Of course it is. That’s why it’s about to go pear-shaped.’ He nodded to the two armed men. ‘All right, clear off.’
The two men looked uncertainly at the senior officer. He was confused, but quickly tried to regain his authority.
