D. Mitchell: The King of Terrors

‘The woman is dead,’ she said. ‘Died of her wounds yesterday.’

‘And you expect me to believe that?’ Camael said.

‘It’s the truth. Lambert-Chide’s men killed her. One thing is certain; she doesn’t have to worry about you guys ever again.’

‘And Davies?’

‘You’re going to be so sorry you crossed me,’ she said.

‘Empty threats,’ Camael said, shaking his head. He pushed Rayne’s resisting body. ‘One last chance,’ he said coldly. ‘I will do this, mark my words. Where is Davies?’

The mist cleared a little and a dark maw opened up a few inches away from Rayne’s bare feet. Camael stared intently at Caroline and she stared right on back in a non-verbal standoff, the gun still held rigid in her outstretched arms. She shook her head decisively, her eyes filling. ‘I won’t,’ she said.

‘Won’t or can’t?’ he said. ‘Too bad.’

His hand grabbed Rayne’s neck and he was about to give him one last shove when a voice broke out of the dark.

‘Wait, Camael!’

Out of the mist she saw another figure step forward, blurred and indistinct. He looked to be wearing a long, grey Burberry coat, the collar turned up against the chill night air. Camael dragged Rayne brusquely back from the edge, holding him in front of him like a pale, quivering shield. Caroline swung the gun over to the shifting ghostly shape.

‘You’d rather watch your father die than give us Davies,’ the man said. ‘That’s interesting.’

‘Who are you?’ Caroline asked nervously.

‘Don’t tell me you’ve actually developed feelings for the man? Actually care for him, so much so you’d even sacrifice your own father?’

‘Nobody is being sacrificed tonight,’ she said defiantly. ‘Let my father go.’

The figure came closer, but the face was still largely hidden from her. ‘Ah, the things we do for love!’ he mused. ‘Poor Pipistrelle here; he devoted his entire life to a love that could never be consummated, never even be revealed. Isn’t that true, old man? Well did you hear that? She’d dead. Your Venus is no more. With the help of your lovesick devotion she led me a merry dance for decades, but alas that is all over now. I rather enjoyed the thrill of the chase, tracking down the last of the line, so to speak.’

‘So who are you?’ she asked again. ‘Are you Doradus?’

Her comment was met with an icy silence. ‘I’ve been impressed by your work, though, Caroline,’ he said at length. ‘You’ve managed to run rings around everyone. I could use skills like that. Let me put to you a proposition: join me, tell me where Davies is and not only will I let you have this pathetic little old man, I will give you riches and power beyond your wildest imaginings. I need people like you.’

Caroline took a slow step to one side, trying to get a better angle on Camael with the gun, but he mirrored her movement and kept hidden well behind Rayne.

‘I must say I am flattered, to be addressed by Doradus himself. What an honour!’ she said, trying to play for time. ‘Or is that Benedict Jones? Because that’s what all this is about really, isn’t it? You’re like the woman and Davies. You don’t die. The way I figure it, the reason you’ve been obsessed with tracking such people down over the centuries is that it’s difficult to be God’s Chosen One if there are more exactly like you. That strike a familiar chord? Call them Serpentiles, call them what you will, you can’t escape the fact that you’re one of them. And these morons who follow you hankering after a place in your New Eden, well that’s a load of balls and you know it. When the nasty little bug you’ve been developing hits the streets they’ll all die, like the rest of us. There’s no place set for them at the Eden table, is there? But Davies, people like him, they’re resistant to viruses so they’ll survive and you can’t allow that to happen, can you? You want the place for yourself.’

The man grunted. ‘You have some imagination.’

‘It’s one of my better points.’

She noticed how he’d put himself some distance away from Camael and the others, the eddying mist all but swallowing him up.

‘Much as I’d like to talk all night, I don’t have the time. We’ll determine soon enough whether the woman is dead or not. Davies, however, is very much alive. Hand him over.’ He was met with stony silence. ‘You really want to see your father dead?’

‘We all die sooner or later,’ she said.

He shook his head. ‘You can’t win, you do know that, don’t you? The odds are stacked against you.’

Whilst her attention had been on Doradus she hadn’t noticed Gabriel pulling out a gun. Where the hell had he had that, she thought? Had Camael handed it him? She cursed herself. ‘The odds are I’ll at least get a couple of you. Starting with you, Doradus.’

‘It needn’t come to that, Caroline. Give me Davies. It’s all I ask for now. You and your father can walk free.’

‘Free? That will never happen,’ she said. ‘You’ll come for us sooner or later. You can’t have him,’ she said with finality, her arm stiffening.

‘Then there is no other option,’ he said. ‘You’ll both have to die tonight.’

‘Maybe it’s time to rethink that, Doradus,’ another voice called out of the mist from the direction of the stone cairn. ‘Seems I’ve just changed the odds.’

‘Gareth!’ Caroline said. ‘What the hell are you doing here? I told you to stay behind!’

He remained behind the cover of the cairn, hidden from view behind the shadowy block of stone. ‘What is it with you and orders?’ he said.

‘How long have you been there?’ she said.

‘Long enough. You know, things are starting to fall into place. What I want to know is how Inspector Styles managed to die and be on top of Mam Tor at the same time.’

Caroline’s face flushed through with confusion. ‘Styles? The officer that died with Stafford in the fire?’

‘That’s the one,’ said Gareth. ‘Seems Styles and Doradus here are the one and the same, is that not right, Doradus? I might not be able to see you properly but I’d recognise that voice anywhere.’

‘At least you’ve saved me the trouble of coming to look for you, Davies.’ He took a furtive step backwards, into the mist. ‘Well you know how it is, every now and again it pays the Chief Executive to go down to the shop floor to see how the prols are doing.’

‘And the guy who took your place, the one the police conveniently identified as you?’ Gareth asked.

‘A nobody. The world is littered with nobodies.’ Doradus’ form appeared to grow ever more indistinct. ‘Stafford had his chance but he refused to call it a day. And I rather liked the irony of it all, meeting his end like Rayne’s grandfather did, at the hands of his nark. Except there was no nark.’

‘I still don’t get it,’ said Gareth, trying to keep a bead on Doradus but it was getting increasingly difficult, ‘why’d you put yourself to all the trouble? You needn’t have done that. You could have sent one of your many cronies to do the job for you. What was so special?’ He looked across and saw Caroline moving slowly, taking up a better position. He was trying to keep attention from her but she spoke up.

‘I was thinking that too,’ she said. ‘I reckon when you got wind that she could actually have children, after you discovered Davies was possibly her son, your plan changed. Instead of killing her you suddenly realised you had a potential Eve on your books, didn’t you? OK, so I guess you’d already thought about female company, keeping some poor women alive in some way, but Evelyn, well she was very special. An immortal that could have children. She might also be God’s chosen one. A potential breeding machine to help reboot a decimated planet for all time. I mean, beats all those lonely night, too, doesn’t it? It’s damn tough on a guy, being the New Adam and all. Where’s the fun in that?’