Mammon (9 page)

‘Why don't you just kill them?' Joe said, cocking his fingers like a gun.

‘That would be easy, wouldn't it?' Diana smiled. ‘If we do that, the dark energy stays here, on Earth, and will quickly reattach itself, making another demon even stronger.'

Grace looked around. ‘So, you just bring them here? Then what?'

‘The dark energy must be expelled and cleansed.' Marcus's voice was tight.

‘What happens to the person?' Grace pressed.

‘The body cannot survive the expulsion.' Marcus looked at Joe. ‘Of course, now that Joe is here, we will not need to go through this long, arduous process.' His eyes glittered as he looked at Diana. ‘Have you explained what the
sarsareh
do?'

Diana lifted her hand. ‘All in good time.'

Marcus grunted. ‘Your aunt is protecting you, Joe. But you will come to realise that you are a revelation.' He gave Diana an innocent shrug. ‘It's the truth.'

Joe looked up. ‘Yeah?'

‘Oh, yes.' Lucius smiled. ‘You'll revolutionise our work.'

Breathing deeply, Diana struggled to control the quiver in her voice. ‘They must be allowed to think things over first!' She glanced between Grace and Joe. ‘So many scenarios we haven't considered. To begin with, one day you may come across someone you once knew as a school friend, or a neighbour. Someone who is now a demon. How will you handle that?'

Joe shrugged. ‘Dunno.'

‘You haven't had time to think it through. To come to grips with what we're dealing with here.'

‘Well, let's show them, then.' Marcus walked across to the water cooler and drew himself a glass. He took a swig and looked at the two newcomers. ‘There are three simple rules. Do not interact with the inmates. Stay behind the yellow line. Move when I tell you to. Understood?'

Agatha ducked into an office and picked up a satchel. She put it over her shoulder and jogged to catch up with Marcus, who was leading the group towards at a set of dark blue double doors, which were framed in a silver metallic line. Grace followed, shooting one guard a wary look as she passed. Even though he was staring straight ahead, she was sure his eyes were following her.

Marcus pushed the doors open. ‘Remember: don't make eye contact with any of them. If you feel strange, tell me.'

Grace peered down a long, brightly lit hallway. Plastic walls flanked them on both sides. Cubes for cells, again, whitewashed, each with a chair, bed, and bathroom area. And, once again dispersed at even intervals: the men in black. ‘No bars?'

‘No need. That stuff's stronger than steel.' Diana nodded to a guard, who was pacing the corridor. He held some kind of remote control device that had a large red button in the middle.

She felt the nausea rise in her stomach, the cold needling along her spine . . .
In hope of some distraction, she glanced at the numbers posted outside each cell. ‘Level Fourteen?' She threw Diana a curious look.

Agatha stepped forward. ‘That refers to the Stone Scale of Evil. It's how we categorise the various demons we come into contact with. Level Fourteen demons are easy to apprehend. We have quite a few of them here.'

Grace stole a glance into each cell as they moved along. For all the world, the inmates could have been human. Slumped on beds or in chairs. Looking away, non-confrontational – yet, the Shadows
were watching . . .

‘This level of demon is certainly psychopathic but out for themselves, to gain some benefit, usually financial. The most famous Level Fourteen demons in history were Herman and Paul Petrillo, who started the Philadelphia Poison Ring. Murdered over one hundred people – all in the name of greed.'

With every few steps, the air of madness grew thicker.

‘What's the highest level?'

‘Twenty-two.'

Grace felt her spine tingle. ‘Do you have anyone . . . of that level?'

‘Yes,' Agatha said. ‘But, one step at a time. Ever heard of Charles Manson? Leader of a cult known as the Manson Family. Under his instruction, the cult members carried out a number of vicious murders. He was Level Fifteen.'

They moved past another row of cells. ‘These are our Level Fifteens. Our most famous inmate here was arrested for a shooting spree in a suburban shopping centre.' Agatha rolled her eyes. ‘He claimed he was unfairly dismissed by his boss.'

Lucius shook his head. ‘They love to make excuses.'

‘Right. Here we are. Level Sixteen. Telepathic. The most famous Level Sixteen in history is Myra Hindley, who murdered children in the north of England decades ago. But, unfortunately, we have our own version here. She helped her husband kill four young women.'

Grace could feel the demon looking at her. She could see the frosty breath coming from the demon's mouth; could feel its chill climbing the walls. Despite the warning, she turned and met the inmate's gaze. The eyes seemed to radiate a wave of dark energy that hit her, bringing a cramp to her stomach and a burning sensation in her eyes. And the voice . . . the hissing, growling that seemed to echo inside her mind. She doubled over, clutching her stomach. ‘She wants to kill me,' she whispered.

Agatha waved one of the remote control devices at the inmate. ‘Face down!'

With a hiss, the demon lowered her head.

‘We warned you. Do not make eye contact with them.' Agatha slid the device back into her pocket.

Diana put her arm around her niece. ‘Do you want to leave?'

Grace straightened up and took a deep breath. ‘No.' She moved forward. ‘Keep going.'

‘Level Seventeen. Keep your eyes averted. This inmate confessed to eight murders but is suspected of having committed three times that many. To most people, especially women, he was attractive, charismatic.' Agatha paused. ‘You must realise that when you apprehend a demon, any UnSighted who witnesses the act will protest strongly.' She put on a simpering voice. ‘He's really a nice guy. He had a hard childhood.' She shook her head.

The demon lifted his head and looked at Joe with a violent glint in his eye. Joe gave him the finger.

Diana turned and swatted his hand away. ‘It's no joke, Joseph!'

They stopped and Marcus punched a code into a security system.

The door seemed to open with a burst of air, as if a vacuum seal had been opened.

‘You're about to meet the Hannibal Lecter of Renfield,' said Marcus.

Grace felt the tension hit her immediately. A sinister power lay within these walls.

This cell was medieval compared to the others. A hovel, barely the size of Grace's old bathroom. Walls were coated in slime, criss-crossed steel bars separated the inmate from the visitors. Above, a grimy light flickered intermittently. There was a damp, stale taste in the air.

‘This one is Level Nineteen,' Agatha said.

Marcus smiled at the inmate. ‘Hello, Raymond.'

Even though this was a demon – the Shadow clinging to his body told her that – Grace couldn't get past the pale, dishevelled young man whose orange tunic and pants were far too big, giving him a childlike, comical appearance. His sullen eyes were fixed on the wall, his fingers laced together on his lap.

‘He seems harmless.'

Marcus stepped closer to the cell. ‘That's what makes him such an effective killer.'

Grace stared at the doctor. Marcus almost sounded as though he admired him.

‘Does he talk?' Joe stepped forward and tapped on the cell wall.

‘Don't antagonise him.' Diana moved forward and pulled Joe's hand away from the plastic.

Grace looked back at Raymond. He was staring right back at her, his expression neither sad nor angry. Just blank. But she felt herself become very drowsy, very quickly. A rapid onset of sleep – like the needle they gave her when she had her appendix out.

And she wasn't in the asylum anymore. She was alone with him in a house she didn't recognise. It was similar to Gran's cottage but creepy. Gloomy, coated with dust. Raymond was leading her towards a dark brown door. Every few seconds he shot her a look of anticipation.

Grace could smell something cooking – roast meat.

Raymond led her down a staircase into a small, damp room, dimly lit. He led her across to a large, white chest freezer. With a hiss, the door opened. Raymond pointed inside.
See?

Inside the freezer, row upon row of meat joints. Wrapped in plastic.

That's the scent from the kitchen. You noticed it, didn't you? And I didn't need a gun, or even chloroform. As you can see, I haven't got much in the way of muscle. But I can win them this way.
He tapped his head, hard, and then nodded at the frozen joints.
This guy was six foot two and about twice my body weight.

Grace staggered back, her foot brushing against something hard. She looked down: there was an axe, embedded in a chopping block; its metal stained dark red.

Her head hit brick, and she was in the asylum again.

The demon had her trapped in his stare. Grace shook her head rapidly to waken her body from the anaesthetic effect of the trance, the echo of his voice inside her mind.

Raymond's gaze was serious, matter-of-fact – even symp- athetic.
You said I was harmless. I thought you should know the truth.

‘Get out of my head!' Her scream bounced off the walls. Startled, Agatha slammed the red button on her remote. Raymond's hands flew up to the collar around his neck.

Shaking, Grace looked over at Agatha. She'd come alive doing this, her eyes shining, jaw clenched. She held the button until the demon finally collapsed, arms and legs limp.

‘Fry him some more,' Joe growled.

Agatha shook her head. ‘He's restrained now.'

Joe put his arm around Grace. ‘It's okay, sis. You're safe.'

‘Take it easy,' said Diana. ‘Just breathe.' She turned to Agatha. ‘Shouldn't you have been watching things more closely?'

Agatha put the remote into her pocket. ‘New recruits need to experience this kind of thing so they know what to expect.'

Grace trembled. ‘I was somewhere else . . .'

‘Yes,' Marcus said. ‘That's how he does it.'

Grace gazed at the cell. The walls seemed translucent, lined with frost. ‘Why do they do that? ‘She pointed to the icy sheen.

‘We don't know where it comes from,' said Diana. ‘But our best guess is this: when demons are on the attack, they seem to draw all the energy out of the air. Notice how cold it has become in here?'

Grace exhaled and watched her breath form a cloud. That was true. Jesse Tyler was angry and then he seemed to sweat this stuff. What he was doing the first time she saw him?

‘Raymond seemed almost friendly,' Grace whispered. ‘Almost as if he cared about me; that he wanted to warn me about his nature.'

‘Classic psychopath,' Lucius said. ‘He'll act like your friend and even come across as intelligent and insightful. Then he'll sink his axe into your skull.'

‘Agatha,' said Marcus, ‘access Raymond's history for me.'

The woman fished into her satchel and drew out a computer tablet. Frowning, she began scrolling through files until she reached Raymond's record. She passed the tablet to Marcus.

‘Look at this.' Marcus gestured for Grace and Joe to come closer. They peered into the screen and at a mug shot of a dishevelled, wild-eyed face.

‘This is Raymond's rap sheet. He murdered twelve people, most of whom were young boys, and froze their body parts.' He leaned closer. ‘Then ate them.'

Grace shuddered. ‘I know. He showed me.'

‘Dirty cannibal,' Joe said.

‘He's a copycat killer. A great admirer of Jeffrey Dahmer, the American serial killer.'

Grace gulped. ‘He can't get out of here, can he?'

‘Raymond is scheduled for expulsion, Grace.' Marcus looked at his watch. ‘Three days from now, he'll be dead.'

‘Why three days?'

‘That's how long it takes. Expulsion of demon energy is no small matter. Even after physical death, the energy lingers.' He gave Joe a pointed look. ‘Of course, opening a rift would be an instantaneous expulsion. Far more efficient.'

Joe nodded. ‘Hell, yeah.'

‘Come on,' Diana said. She put her arm around Grace and led her back up the hallway. ‘I think the kids have seen enough for now, Marcus. On to brighter things.'

Grace moved along the corridor, trying to ignore the feeling of dread rising in her stomach. ‘Are there others like him out there?'

Diana patted her back. ‘If there are, we'll catch them.'

GRACE DREW IN
deep breaths of fresh air as the group stepped outside the wall. Instantly, she felt her mood lift at leaving that place and its creepy inhabitants behind.

Diana looked at her watch. ‘Sarah's going to meet us in about five minutes, and she can take over from there.'

Grace looked at her aunt. ‘When did this problem start? I mean, people becoming demonic?'

Diana sighed. ‘No-one can be sure . . . our great writers have recorded the worst times in history – when we fell into our darkest days. Times like these have become known as Scourges.' She clasped her hands. ‘Some have a theory that a cosmic phenomenon, like the order of the planets, inspires the uprising of a Scourge and also gives some demons their special powers. They've made definite links with demon uprisings. But we can't measure it, can't predict the next outbreak. Even when it subsides, a Scourge will never truly disappear. Always, in some deep recess of our collective consciousness lies an echo of what has been. Waiting for an opportunity to rise up again.'

‘Are we in a Scourge now?'

Diana gave Grace a wry smile. ‘I believe so.'

Joe lifted his head. ‘But now I'm here.' The burn had begun in his gut – a desire to hunt down his parents' killers. Even now, his fingertips were tingling with anticipation, the paramedic's card ever-present in his pocket.

Lucius smiled. ‘Yes, you are.'

Diana narrowed her eyes. ‘I'm not in a hurry to see you out in the field, Joe.'

A tall, fair-haired girl walked towards the group. Her hair was short and neat, her eyes dazzling in the sunlight. She was tall, nearly the same height as Joe, who'd zoomed up in the past year to six feet two. She wore sky-blue cargo pants, a white t-shirt and yellow sneakers. A black embroidered eye sat on her sleeve. Her look was fresh – like she'd stepped out of an advertisement for laundry detergent.

‘Hi.' She smiled. ‘I'm Sarah Sanderson.'

Joe coughed and ran his fingers through his hair. He stole a glance at Grace; she raised her eyebrows with a small smile.

‘Hi,' said Grace.

Joe reached out his hand. ‘Nice to meet you, Sarah.'

Sarah gave Diana a friendly nod. ‘Are they ready to go?'

‘That's if they're still interested.' Diana glanced between her niece and nephew, and then sighed. ‘Okay, then. Guess if you're still gung-ho after our little tour here, there's no stopping you. Fine. You can start your training today.'

‘Bye, then,' Sarah said. She smiled at the newcomers. ‘Shall we?'

* * *

DIANA WATCHED THE
trio disappear into the forest. ‘I don't want Grace and Joe pushed into anything they're not ready for. Am I understood?'

‘Relax, Diana.'

‘No, Lucius. I will not risk him like this. The minute he goes into the outside world, they'll be after him. To finish what they started with his parents. Or worse . . .'

‘Fair enough,' Lucius said. ‘We will keep him under protection and work on perfecting his skill.'

‘And securing his loyalty,' added Marcus.

‘Joe must not be allowed to leave the premises,' said Diana. ‘The incident with the truck was demonic intervention on a high level. Whoever this demon is, I don't think he'll be willing to let Joe slip away a second time. We must be vigilant and remember that someone's trying to get to him.' Diana took a deep breath and stared at her intertwined fingers.

‘If we only knew who.'

* * *

‘WE'VE GOT COMBAT
training first up.' Sarah led Grace and Joe through the main passageway that separated the sleeping quarters from a large recreation room. The limestone walls were coated with posters. A drinks fridge and cluster of red, padded chairs took up the corner, where a giant TV and games console sat. Matching striped sofas were wedged against the wall, all to make room for the pool table that stood in the centre of the room.

‘Cool,' said Joe.

‘Who pays for all this?' said Grace.

‘Marcus raises the funds to keep this place running. From “concerned benefactors”, as he puts it. It's funny, we're stuck in practically the most isolated place on Earth, yet little old Renfield has a worldwide reputation for excellence in training and combat. Even though we've only been going for two years.'

‘Who gives him the money?' Grace asked.

‘People who have been affected by demon activity and want justice.'

Grace nodded at the crest on Sarah's t-shirt sleeve. ‘Is that some kind of um . . .?'

Sarah nodded. ‘It marks me out as a telepath. We only wear these while training, never on missions. The mercs have their own crests, as do the engineers.'

‘Can you read minds?'

‘No,' Sarah gave Joe a half-smile. ‘I can plant ideas in others' minds, that's all.' She scratched her head. ‘I don't really use my gift much – I work in research and development instead, and sometimes I work with the communications systems.' She cleared her throat and shot a glance between Grace and Joe. ‘What did you guys think of the asylum?'

Grace shuddered. ‘Those guards are creepy.'

Joe smirked. ‘Without their guns, they'd be pussies.'

Sarah gave him a doubtful look. ‘Not really. Marcus picks the cream of the mercenary crop to join his guard, so they're pretty good.' She shrugged. ‘Most of the time they just stand there with guns. It's a waste of talent, really. Nobody gets out of those cells – ever.'

They approached a group of boys sitting at a table. Grace noticed each of them wore a triangle insignia on their sleeve. A guy who appeared to be in his early twenties looked up. His eyes, warm and brown, radiated a deep intelligence. His skin, smooth and even, was a light shade of caramel, and his hair a mass of tight, fair curls.

‘Hi, Sarah.'

Sarah grinned. ‘Hey, Seth. This is Grace and Joe Callahan.'

Seth stood up and nodded. ‘I know. Your reputations precede you. Settling in okay?' He fell into step with them.

‘Reputations?' Grace shook her head. ‘We haven't done anything.'

‘That's not what we've heard.'

The group walked on.

‘Seth's part of the engineering core. Their crest represents Pythagoras. They're learning to design weapons and communications systems and fly choppers. The very technology that the grunts . . . I mean, mercs, rely on.'

Seth clasped his hands behind his back, lifted his chin and put on an English accent. ‘Actually, I'm in charge of the core.' He looked down his nose at them before bursting into a bright grin.

Sarah shook her head. ‘Crap acting, buddy. You can't even
pretend
to be an arsehole.' She punched his arm.

‘Oh.' Seth put on a mock pout. He threw Grace a grin and winked.

Grace tore her eyes away to give Sarah a questioning look. ‘Who are you imitating?'

‘Malcolm, Sarah's brother,' said Seth.

‘Stepbrother.' Sarah waggled her finger. ‘He thinks he's better than everyone else.'

‘Definitely not an engineer,' Seth added. ‘Certainly not skilled enough to be a telepath.'

‘Ah,' said Sarah, ‘you flatter us.'

Seth lowered his voice. ‘Although, Daddy's the head honcho, isn't he? Malcolm probably thinks he's going to inherit power, like this is some kind of monarchy.'

Grace looked at him. ‘Lucius is Malcolm's father?'

‘No, Marcus is.'

‘Oh,' said Grace. ‘I thought Lucius was in charge of us.'

‘He's supposed to be.' Seth sighed. ‘But he lets his brother call all the shots.'

Sarah tutted. ‘Don't let Diana hear you say that.'

Grace looked back at Joe, who was listening with a bemused look on his face.

A passing group of mercenaries gave the group a lasting stare. Grace studied the crests on their sleeves: a long spear set against a bronze shield emblazoned with an eight-pointed star. She felt their gaze moving over her body. One of them mumbled to his friend. They broke into laughter and walked on.

Grace breathed deeply, trying to quell that old feeling that arose whenever boys laughed and stared. ‘Are they always this unfriendly?'

Sarah shrugged. ‘Don't let it get to you. Some of these guys think they're God's gift to women. Comes from fighting hand-to-hand with ghoulies. But people like us value mind over muscle.' They stopped at a glass sliding door.

‘Ghoulies? That's what you call them?' Grace noted the derisive tone. Perhaps they were talking about different monsters here.

Sarah slid the door open. A rush of cool air hit their cheeks; in the distance Grace could see a blur of movement among the trees.

The red-headed girl, Maya, jogged past. ‘You're late.'

Sarah rolled her eyes. ‘That's Diana's assistant.'

Maya shot a look back. ‘I'm a mercenary, actually. Try to keep up.'

Grace watched the girl disappear into the trees. ‘Yeah, we've met.'

A Greek-style amphitheatre lay ahead, with six rows of grassed levels. Maya was sitting in the back row beside two other mercenaries. Both had cropped hair, like marines. One blond, one dark. The blond boy glanced up, gave the newcomers a once-over and looked back at his teammate. Grace noticed he wore the standard white t-shirt, but the front was emblazoned with
SERB PRIDE.

The place was packed with people in white shirts. Ahead, a boy stood and made a joke, then he ducked down when some- one threw a drink can at him. At the front, five young guys and two girls were standing in conversation. Grace gulped against the rising wave of nerves. But then again – with a closer look – this gathering resembled nothing more than a school assembly. This wasn't an army. They were just kids.

‘Sit here,' Sarah said. They took their seats behind Maya and the two other mercenaries.

‘Quiet!' One of the leaders stepped forward and stared out into the group.

‘That's Ivan,' whispered Sarah. ‘He's our squad leader. Hopefully you've both been assigned to him if Lucius knows what he's doing.'

Ivan ran his gaze along the crowd and began to take rollcall.

Grace scanned his face. Pale, with short, dark hair. She couldn't see his crest, but there was something about him that made her feel compelled to stare, as though she was drawn to him . . .

‘Is he a telepath?'

Seth snorted. ‘Hell, no. He's a merc. Hardcore one, too.' He looked at Grace. ‘Why'd you think that?'

‘Never mind.'

She continued to stare, mesmerised by his voice and the eyes that seemed to speak to whomever he looked at. And then Seth was nudging her arm. ‘You're up.'

‘Callahan, Grace,' Ivan repeated.

She raised her hand. ‘Here.'

Ivan stared at her for a moment before looking down at his list again. ‘Callahan, Joseph.'

When rollcall was over, the two mercenaries next to Maya turned and looked at Grace and Joe. ‘You two are with us,' the blond boy said. ‘Move it.' He cast a long look at Grace as he hoisted a large black bag over his shoulder and began to move up the stairs, closely followed by Maya.

‘That's Armin,' Sarah said. ‘Sorry about his attitude, but that's grunts for you.'

Armin glanced back. ‘Shut up, girl. When was the last time you killed a ghoulie?'

The dark-haired boy coughed. ‘Ahem.'

Sarah sighed. ‘Grace, meet my stepbrother, Malcolm.' She pressed her lips together, struggling not to laugh at Seth, who was pulling faces.

Malcolm reached across, but didn't wait for Grace to accept his handshake. Rather, he grabbed her hand and shook hard. ‘I'm Malcolm Penbury. You'll answer to me whenever Ivan's not here.'

‘Ivan's always here,' Sarah said. ‘So you won't have to answer to him often.'

Grace pulled her hand away. ‘Okay then.' Seth was pretending to gag, shoving his forefinger down his throat. Sarah broke into laughter.

Grace began to climb the stairs. Malcolm fell into step next to her. ‘So what do you have to offer us, Grace? What's your motivation for wanting to join up?'

‘My parents were murdered by demons. I want to find the ones who did it, and kill them.'

‘Yes.' Maya threw her a look over her shoulder. ‘As you say in English, join the club.'

‘It's true,' said Sarah. ‘Everyone here has lost family that way. Well, except for Malcolm. He's still lucky enough to have his dad.' She gave Grace a meaningful look. ‘You've met Marcus already, haven't you?'

‘Yep.' Grace kept her tone friendly. She could feel Malcolm's eyes burning into her face.

The group moved into a small clearing surrounded by trees with climbing holds and ropes. Armin dropped the bag and crouched next to it, opening the zipper. He began to unload weapons and ammunition.

Joe wandered across. ‘Tasers?'

Armin gave Joe an appreciative smile. ‘Our training program is going to be totally different now you're here. We stun them, you throw them into a rift.'