The Knowledgeables chapter eight
Chapter Eight
It was a long time after these events that I found out what had happened. Again, if only I had known... but Flyte never spoke much to anyone about her thoughts or feelings or dreams. And she never accounted for her actions. Not back then. I just trusted blindly.
* * * *
Picking Up The Scent
Although Etienne Flyte had not reached the point of longing for pickled rollmops and poffertje she was looking forward to leaving Australia and walking the straat up to the Rijks Museum, to drink coffee at Dam Square again. She knew the best places there for coffee, tea, herrings, tailors, cocaine, galleries and books. Amsterdam was the closest thing she had to a home now, the warmest thing she allowed into her nomadic life that was beginning to feel just a little too cold for comfort. A little too solitary, even with the presence of Jessica Moorland - maybe even because of it. She had always quite enjoyed being alone but now it was starting to feel… lonely.
Walking through the multi-storey car park, she beeped the immobiliser on the black Volvo as she approached. The lights flashed and she pondered how she would dispose of the latest fine vehicle. At least this one was intact even if it was streaked with dirt and dried locusts from the journey up the Hume Highway.
Her mind was going through a mental checklist, ticking off all that she had to do before leaving. Tickets to Amsterdam via Singapore were arranged and electronic, although as a rule she disliked the trail such purchases left. The Banks brothers were allocating resources and removalists were coming that afternoon, after she and Tracey were on their plane. They could have Etienne's belongings too, not that there was much she had acquired during her stay. Some clothes and a book or two.
She had already sent on the Chinese art book along with some of her false identification. Dr. Parker had gone to kitty heaven in the sky, though he had gone kicking and screaming - or at least clawing and biting - as she had tossed him under the car on the main road. She had blocked that Knowledge but had underestimated how much a Chronicler vision could reveal.
Her best bet would be to not mention it again and certainly not think about it in case Tracey somehow tuned in. It would only make the Australian more suspicious than she was and less receptive to Etienne's advice. It had been for Tracey's own good, to make her sever ties with her home quickly; it was nothing personal. Etienne liked cats well enough, but she knew from experience that sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind. Better to lose one cat and be safely gone than to linger and have the Penrith Hunter-Seekers come knocking on the door. Although the Knowledge continued to say the group were static, Etienne did not want to run the risk of staying too long. It was only a matter of time until they made a move. In fact, she couldn't understand why they had not.
As she reached the boot of the Volvo she heard footsteps behind her, quick and light, but there was no time to react. There was barely time to feel that awful something in the air... She had barely started to turn when a fist connected with her jaw and her world turned black.
It was the pale grey-green of her nightmare again but this time she was aware straight away that it was not real. Although it was the same English river with the upside-down car and the grassy steep slopes rising up to the damaged stone bridge, it was not the same. Whereas before there had been some semblance of reality now it was static and empty, like a washed out photograph. There were no sheep, no birds, no frogs, no people. Even the water seemed to rush by over the rapids in hushed tones. It was no less frightening to be part of. It was like turning up at a fair-ground too early and only the lights were on, with the rides being prepared elsewhere for the opening time. This dream was not yet open for customers. But why? Had she arrived too suddenly?
Standing knee-deep in the cold river, Etienne was frozen in place staring at the half-submerged Daimler, expecting to see something emerge - and terrified that she would. The longer she gazed, the more she felt her awareness of being in a dream slip; it was taking on a life, becoming real to her. She had to struggle to stay grounded and awake to her predicament or fall to the mercy of the dream and its own logic.
There was a noise at her back, a stealthy shuffle of clothing and a ripple of water. Etienne guessed it was the man from her recent river dreams and the thought of seeing him again brought tears of terror to her eyes. She clenched her teeth and tried to keep focussed. It was a dream, she told herself, not reality. He was a Special Person manipulating her, nothing more sinister. And she was asleep…
Then she remembered she was not. Surely not. There had been a noise in the car park and a blow then darkness, and then she was here. But not a dream. It couldn't be. It had been too sudden and the NightBringer had been caught unprepared. If she was not asleep then what? Was she hurt? Unconscious? Did it matter to the person creeping up from behind her now? He was still manipulating the scene and creating the fear in her thumping heart.
'Every time you sleep I'll put you in here,' the hissing voice at her ear said. He was closer than she thought and she flinched, unable to move her feet.
'I'm not asleep,' she whispered back, surprised at her own bravery; she knew it was only because she had not seen him yet. Once she had she would crumble.
For a moment he hesitated then continued. 'Every time. Every night you sleep. I can find you in here and out there. I'll track you down and get closer and closer. You will help me.' His breath was warm on her neck, his voice sloppy through a mouthful of saliva and teeth.
She closed her eyes and made herself sound firm, like she did in the real world. Fearless. In command. 'Then you find me now, Brian. Come and find me now in the outside world. I will tell you what you want to know if you come to me right now.
She heard his breath catch in his throat, unsure of her offer. 'What do you mean?'
'Do I have to spell it out, Brian? I'm not asleep, am I? Am I unconscious? In a coma? Dead? I don't know. But if something has happened to me then I may be hurt. I need help. If you help me, Brian, I will be very grateful. I will tell you everything you want about being a NightBringer.'
He exhaled sharply and took a step away. Etienne kept her eyes shut and her mind on what she had to say and do. No time to think about dreaming or the man behind her with the broad mouth full of fangs and eyes of smouldering coal. No thoughts about cars in the river or standing in water.
'I'm a... NightBringer?' It was a question but as he spoke he knew the truth of it. The name fit like a very tight glove, leaving no room for any doubt. 'Yes. Of course. That is what I am. Night. Bringer.'
'And the amazing things you can do…' Etienne tried to sound enticing. It seemed to work.
'Like what? Tell me.'
'You are a classic NightBringer, my dear Brian. It isn't always the case, no, but when it does turn up… You have the combination that is a match made in heaven, two complementary Gifts. Your major is NightBringer, and you can enter into dreams and find people through them. Your minor though, is a Darksee. Lovely combination.'
'A what? How? What is that? How do I do things?' Now he was eager, excited, and she could hear that his threat was failing. The nightmare was turning brighter and warmer, unravelling its menace as he lost his. Even his voice was turning into his normal, ocker accented tone without the spittle and the teeth. He was unable to hold it together - because he was simply not a very good NightBringer. Not yet.
Her confidence growing, Etienne opened her eyes and turned to face him. It was just a man; the man from Chapel Street in his plaster splattered tradesman's clothing. Nothing to fear. She smiled. 'Come find me now and save me. I'll show you what to do. I will show you everything.'
Eventually Etienne Flyte awoke, slowly and painfully, her head throbbing and her nose filled with the scent of new plastic and rubber. She was curled up uncomfortably on something hard and lumpy in a dark, stuffy place. When she tried to sit up she bumped her head and found there was a low roof, and that she was inside some sort of container. Then came the sudden realisation - she was in a car boot. Probably her own. There was no sense of movement though and no engine noise, so they were either about to set off for their destination or they had arrived.
She wrapped her arms around her temples to dull the ache in her head and to calm her fear. She told herself this situation was just like the nightmare river and the little nightmare man trying to manipulate her emotions to make her do something against her will. All she had to do was stay alert and think carefully, remember she was smarter and in control. She was the one with the Knowledge, after all.
Heavy footfalls on gravel approached the rear of the car. What was she to expect now? Should she feign unconsciousness or prepare to run? Should she fight or just surrender and save herself more pain? Options were still being debated when she heard the boot unlock with a clunk and the lid rose.
Etienne blinked blindly in the sudden light, trying to focus on who was there. Strong hands grabbed the lapels of her coat and threw her out and onto the gravel and thistles at the rear of the car. She fell awkwardly, jarring her joints and tearing her suit.
Deliberately seeming more helpless than she was, she pulled herself slowly to her hands and knees. She even gave a bit of a theatrical whimper, playing on her weakness but building her strength. As a tactic it had previously worked well for her. Then she raised her eyes and saw who was standing over her - and cursed silently. The tactic would not work on the same person twice. Certainly not thrice. Even Hunters eventually learned their lessons.
'Bruno,' she groaned.
'Good afternoon, Etienne Flyte. It is a pleasure to meet with you again.' He was all manners and joviality, with a jaunty lilt to his fading German accent. Etienne wondered if he had an audience he was trying to impress. She sat herself with her back against the car door, gloved hands on her bent knees to stop them trembling, trying not to look up at the Hunter and allow him to threaten her. No way would she give him the satisfaction. Instead she gazed at her surroundings.
They were parked in an uneven, overgrown industrial block, part of a demolished factory, backing onto a copse of wiry shrubs and long weeds. A murky open drain that might have once been a stream flowed in a gully carved between two dilapidated cyclone fences, separating them from the distant inhabited industrial suburb. Freeway bridges spanned high above, blocking the sun, and the overhead wires of train lines and distant city skyscrapers were just visible over the top of a thick concrete wall covered in graffiti. Enough noise to cover any she might make, secluded enough that nobody was likely to come near, and yet close enough to civilisation that he could get home from torture in time for tea. Typical of a Hunter, she thought. Central city and yet wilderness. They do like that combination.
Her lack of response annoyed Bruno. He bent down and slapped her cheek hard. She gave a cry, more of shock than pain, and held her face, unresisting as he ran his hands through her pockets and took her few possessions.
'Etienne! I cannot believe you carry so little. Women always carry handbags, you know.'
She spat blood. 'What for, my chihuahua?'
He ignored her, piling the objects on the car boot and sorting through them. Money - a lot of notes secured with a plain silver clip. A credit card in a name he did not recognise. A house key without a tag. A tiny decorative carved black bottle. A mobile phone.
Etienne was concerned but remained outwardly calm. Had she erased all the history on the phone? Normally she did after each call but she had been lazy and complacent while in Australia, underestimating the dangers even as she had tried to impress them upon Tracey. It served her right to be caught out by Bruno, she thought glumly. She had been stupid and let her guard down. Now she knew what would happen - it had happened before when Bruno caught her - and there was nothing she could do.
Her phone gave a few tentative beeps as the Hunter pressed buttons, then a series of tones sounded. It was redialling. Etienne tried to recall who she had last spoken with. Jeremy? Her family? Tracey? Her housekeeper in Amsterdam? The airline for tomorrow's journey? Escher Banks? Even from ten feet away she could hear the muffled but distinctive voice of the person who answered. Etienne winced.
* * * *
'Hello?' I said. I had taken on board some of Flyte's advice, including answering without saying much. I no longer answered with a cheerful: 'Tracey's phone.' Just as well.
'Ah, hello, good morning?' Bruno was the epitome of politeness and concern towards me, his German accent dropped in favour of something more neutral. 'I'm afraid there has been an accident. Do you know a Miss Etienne Flyte?'
Etienne rested her forehead on her knees, defeated, convinced I was going to lead him straight to me. Once he had two Knowledgeables we were all as good as dead. Or worse. Of course, I didn't know that then.
But I was calm in my response to the stranger. 'Who is this?'
'My name's David, I'm a nurse at the Royal Albert Hospital. Etienne has been brought in. There has been an accident. I can't say more at the moment unless you are a friend or relative. Do you know her or not?'
There was silence at the other end. Flyte felt a brush past her mind, light and tingling; the feeling of Knowledge being used. Perhaps the Australian had listened to her after all, she thought.
I was anxious the person on the other end would be attempting to track me down so I asked the bare minimum only, learning the caller was a Hunter and he was holding Flyte against her will. 'I don't know who you are talking about,' I said. 'And you're lying. You're no nurse.'
Bruno planted a foot on the centre of Etienne's chest crushing her up against the car and pushing the air from her lungs. She choked back a cry, refusing to give him any response he wanted.
'Okay, I am no nurse,' he snarled at me, 'but you know she's hurting, don't you? You can tell that, can't you? You're one of them, aren't you?'
I could tell. Somehow I could. It was like someone shucking out my heart and draining my blood. Despite the fact I understood it was the Knowledge manipulating my emotions it seemed so genuine, as if I was condemning my mother to the fate Flyte was facing - torture and death. It made my actions all the more difficult but I knew what I had to do. I had been told less than a day before how I should react.
Closing my eyes I said firmly, 'Don't call me again,' then hung up. I felt like I had just put a gun to Flyte's head and the guilt made my mouth taste of bitter bile. I waited, eyes shut, wondering if my phone would ring again and not sure how I would react if it did. Things had gone very, very wrong. It had been a Hunter that had spoken on Flyte's phone and the menace in his voice played back over and over in my mind. It scared me enough to stop me asking the Knowledge questions.
I wondered if the phone call was a trap to make me use my Gift to lead the Hunter to me, or was it to lure me to him in order to save her? Obviously he did not know our race well. But why would the Hunters want me, a novice, especially if they already possessed Flyte? I needed to know but there was no way I'd take the risk of asking; it had been stressed I should not. Flyte had also stressed to me that a Knowledgeable captured by Hunter-Seekers was lost and should be abandoned to their fate. There could be no rescue - it was too dangerous. For all intents and purposes then, Etienne Flyte was dead.
The anxiety hampered my erratic Chronicler Gift so I relied on my memory of conversations with Flyte just to be certain of my instructions. It translated down to one notion - flee the country. With the help of the Knowledge I would have no problem making my way to England and to Jeremy Grant, and now it was imperative I do exactly that. I asked the Knowledge one final question, received the curt reply, then dialled the number on my phone. It rang several times until a middle-aged aristocratic male voice answered anonymously with one word, the same way I had been taught. 'Hello?'
I cleared my throat, not sure what I was going to say, but I knew I had to talk to someone. I needed advice. 'Jeremy Grant? I assume you know me and you know there is a problem. My name is Tracey Anderson and I could do with some help...'
* * * *
Etienne Flyte peered up at Bruno who was glaring in disgust at her phone, unable to believe the woman at the other end had hung up on him. No one dared to hang up on him.
'Well, you are obviously loved,' he said dryly. 'They'd rather let you die, it seems.'
'You wouldn't understand.' In truth, neither did Etienne. Although the Knowledgeables had a mutual agreement she had only briefly outlined it to Tracey, and she had not expected the Australian to so rapidly adopt it. Had she overestimated Tracey's compassion or underestimated the girl's ability to pick up instructions? Etienne was unsure if she should be pleased or upset so she decided to fall back on amused resignation.
In a strange way, Etienne felt she had succeeded by ensuring Tracey was smart enough to run away at the first sign of trouble. However, she had also failed by being careless enough to let Hunter-Seekers capture her, inevitably leading to her torture and death. Oh, well, a pyrrhic victory was better than none. No point being worried by the inevitable. Fearful? Yes. Horrified? Most certainly she was, but worried? That implied there might be another option - a hope of rescue, perhaps - and there was none. A defeatist attitude was appropriate when one was defeated.
Her life was now measurable in hours, maybe days, but nothing more. Bruno could never make her use her Gift by force but he didn't know that, even though he should have guessed from their first meeting when he tried a variety of 'techniques' to make her cooperate. And failed. He was accustomed to Hunter-Seeker methods gaining his group whatever they wanted in the world, but with Knowledgeables their methods failed. Etienne knew that while the group frittered their time trying to make her cooperate, Tracey would quietly escape the country and head to England.
Etienne had no special feelings for the Australian girl - found her a little simple and irritating, really, but then most people were. However, Tracey was an untrained Knowledgeable with unproven levels of ability and her potential was unknown; perhaps she would become the best Knowledgeable ever and progress their race beyond the current limits. Etienne could die reasonably content in knowing she had been instrumental in such an outcome because the Knowledge meant that much to her. More than any person.
Besides, Etienne had cheated the Hunters-Seekers twice before - unheard of - and she accepted that it was about time her luck ran out. There would be no one to mourn her passing, well, maybe one person, but they would get over it. In her life Etienne had seen and done more than many people had and she had no regrets; nothing left undone. All that was left was a final sacrifice of herself to protect the Knowledge. A fitting end. She just hoped it would be quick.
Bruno paced, still pushing buttons on the phone but unable to find any other contacts in the history. Etienne knew that with some metadata analysing equipment he could get more out of it but once the other Knowledgeables felt her death they would all change their numbers. It was standard procedure.
When he grew tired of trying he slammed the phone on the car boot beside her other possessions. She heard him shuffling the items about and wondered if he was counting her money. It was unlikely it held much interest - like Knowledgeables, Hunter-Seekers could obtain money when required so it held little attraction for them. Then she remembered what else was in her possession, the only other thing that was a concern. Or at least it would have been if she was going to live. As things stood in her current situation, her cocaine use was irrelevant. Death certainly made one abstain for good.
'What is this?' Bruno snapped.
Etienne looked up and saw the ink stone bottle with the two carved dragons. Her final piece, as it turned out, and one of the few stone bottles in her collection. 'It's an antique Imperial Guangzhou snuff bottle from the eighteenth century. Quite the collector's item when they are in good order. They also carved them out of wood, bone, made them in glass and painted them from the inside-"
'I'm not really all that interested,' he tossed it back onto the boot. To him, aesthetics and antiques were boring.
She winced as the bottle hit metal, hoping it was still intact. 'That's my good luck charm,' she added.
'It failed.'
Etienne sensed a coolness in the Hunter but she assumed it was due to him not using his talent. The other times she had encountered him he had been in the thrall of his Hunter Gift and surrounded by other Hunters and Hunter-Seekers under his command. Then something occurred to her; where were the rest of the London Group? Or the Penrith Group? Or at least Helen Allen? Hunter-Seekers did not go out Hunting alone - that was something only Americans would do, and nothing scared them all more than the notion of an American Hunter-Seeker on the loose.
'Where are your usual pack of animals?' she asked.
'I give them a day off.'
'No. Hunters always go around in groups. Everything for the good of the pack, for the good of the race, never for personal gain -'
'Well, you obviously don't know our race as well as you think!'
She snorted a derisive laugh at so ridiculous a statement.
Bruno felt obliged to prove himself. 'I am in contact with the Penrith Group. They told me Knowledgeables were around here somewhere and from their information I Hunted you out. You have been very loud and you are very distinctive to me. The other one, I cannot find just yet. Perhaps later. Now, I shall take you to the Penrith Hunter-Seekers and we shall all have a pleasant conversation, yes? You can tell us everything we want to know. Everything a Hunter can do.'
'And Hunter-Seekers too, of course.'
'Yes, of course. Get on your feet.'
Etienne was too busy thinking to move. 'If the plan was for the group to question me, why is it you have brought me out here alone to a place isolated and far from the pack? I know the Penrith Group is still over the border even though they must have heard Knowledgeables and wanted to join the Hunt. So why didn't they follow... or perhaps they did but you called them off. Sent them back to prevent me sensing I was being Hunted by a group.'
'I did not want them to make you suspect, no. Alone, I think, you will not see me. I was right.'
She mentally kicked herself for being too narrow-minded in her questions. The only Hunters she anticipated being a threat were the Penrith Group - she never considered asking about the Londoners or Bruno himself because it was unheard of for groups to combine. 'Others might suppose you just wanted me all for yourself; that you require only Hunter information because that's your sole Gift, and as the leader you have enough autonomy to allow you to act without your dogs in tow.'
Bruno paused, watching her through narrowed eyes. Was she guessing this or did she know? 'Ah, you like to talk nonsense. You don't like to talk Knowledge, but nonsense - all the time. I know it seems odd to you but as the leader I can make decisions on my own, I can go where I want and do as I like, and my pack are satisfied that I work only to benefit us all.'
This brought out a chuckle from her. 'If I didn't know better I would think you were being facetious.'
'Etienne Flyte, do not concern yourself with irrelevancies. Speculation is worthless. Instead you should concern yourself with answering our questions about our Gift.' He leaned down towards her, hands on his thighs. 'After all, we two are quite the rarity. We should stick together, us pure breeds.'
Her eyebrows arched in surprise.
'Or do you prefer the term pure bloods? There are a few names for us but they all mean the same thing. Single Gifted.'
She scoffed. 'Not that old wives' tale: if you only have one Gift then you must excel with it as all your energy is expended towards one talent? Nonsense.'
'Is it really? I am the strongest Hunter, I am certain, and you are a pure Knowledgeable. Don't you think you the best with your one Gift?'
Etienne's pride wouldn't let her deny it but there was a more pressing question in her mind. 'How do you know?'
Now it was Bruno's turn to be smug. 'Knowledge.'
'No. No one would give you Knowledge. Besides, if that were the case Helen Allen would have been rubbing that particular salt in my wounds at our last meeting. I'm no Hunter-Seeker, Bruno, but I know a lie when I hear it.'
'Raganar Thorenson.'
'Who?'
'Don't patronise me, Etienne. He was one of you. We caught him trying to rescue his friend Tam Sidderath. At least, I assume that was his plan. We never discussed that.'
'Because Helen Allen cut off Tam's head,' she snapped. Etienne had quite liked the agreeable little Thai. Tam had been a good-natured roly-poly man in his late forties when she had first met him, not long after she had become a Knowledgeable. When they last talked he had been as alert and lively as ever despite his encroaching old age, with no signs of senility or physical impediments. Then he had been taken by the Hunters.
Under their mutual agreement, the rest of the Knowledgeables retreated to their individual hidey-holes and awaited the inevitable rush of emotions at their colleague's death, hoping it would be a fast and easy end for him. It had been. Not all of their race had complied with the agreement, though, and not long after Tam was gone they had felt the death of the Swedish Knowledgeable, Raganar, and his human family. All killed by the London Hunter-Seekers.
Bruno crouched down to Etienne's level. 'Helen Allen got carried away by the blood but you know how she is. Hunter-Seekers don't like liars. While she was interrogating Tam we had a visit from Raganar who wanted to save his friend. How noble. How self-sacrificing. How stupid. I dealt with him personally. Found items in his pockets. Photographs. Mementoes. A folded drawing from one of his children on paper stamped by his school. It did not take me long to have his wife and two children on the Isle of Mann found and brought to me. It did not take me long to make them make him talk.'
Etienne knew some of this, had asked the Knowledge when they felt it happen, but she had never delved too deeply into the facts. Only Jeremy had - it had been his turn to "sanitise" - and he had done so by blocking the worst of the information, the data that was of no benefit to their race. It was their courtesy to the dead. Questioning the Knowledge would just bring up the gruesome details of something none of them wanted to think about because it could happen to them.
She had warned the Swede years earlier he was making a mistake indulging in his excess but he had ignored her. When it came to obsessions Raganar had the worst one of all, one the rest of the Knowledgeables did their best to avoid; a loving family. No wonder he buckled and gave the Hunter-Seekers the Knowledge they craved. He would not have been able to help himself once Bruno started on his family. How much information did he give, though? And why had Helen Allen not mentioned it when Etienne last met her? Then she realised.
'You got the information from Raganar. Personally. You got it for yourself while the rest were involved with Tam. Did you tell them he gave you nothing? He died without uttering a word? Your pack of dogs believed you?'
Bruno rocked on his heels, smiling gently. Darkly. 'Of course. And if you tell me what I want to know it will stay with us. I have no desire to share with these stupid Australian Hunter-Seekers. My group alone will be given what I give them. As the leader I can choose what I divulge.'
'Not according to your race ethics-'
'Don't lecture me!' His right hand grabbed her throat, his long fingers clamping her windpipe tightly. 'I know my Hunter-Seeker ethics!'
'You just choose to ignore them,' she croaked.
'What I do is to advance my race. Keeping me strong and as leader is good for my race.' He released her, his lip curling in disgust. 'You don't understand because you're a weak, pathetic Knowledgeable. Well, just be weak for a bit longer and do as I say.' He reached into the waistband of his trousers and produced a small pistol, only a nine millimetre but at close range it was enough to kill. It was hardly the usual threatening weapon of the pack animal Hunter-Seekers; it barely satiated their need for violence.
Etienne smiled at the gun. Compared to what they had put her through in the past it was laughable. 'Is that the best you could do?'
He pinned her shoulder against the car door, shoving the barrel of the gun up under her chin and tilting her head up. 'I think you'll find it's big enough.'
'I've heard that before.'
'Tell me something about being a Hunter I don't know.'
'How about: they all have bad breath?'
A low growl came from his throat. 'You think I'm not serious?'
'Oh, on the contrary. I think you're deadly serious. I just won't help you and you cannot bully me into doing so.'
'I bullied Raganar into doing so.'
She knew how. The Thorenson family were all gone now, eliminated one by one to make Raganar talk. It had been his only weak point, the only thing that could force him to give Knowledge against his will. Even if he wanted to be silent the Knowledge itself would not allow it at the cost of his family's lives. That was why Knowledgeables isolated themselves, kept their family at arm's length and friends few. If the Hunter-Seekers realised they were the key to unlocking the Knowledge they would start a whole new Hunt with a whole new goal - families. And they would soon have everything they wanted.
Still, Etienne was pleased by Bruno's assumption that his bullying had produced Knowledge - he had not correlated the family as the key factor. Yet. His mind always went to intimidation and violence as the main weapons. Hunters were not subtle creatures.
'I hate to say it of a colleague but Raganar was weak.'
'Even for a Knowledgeable,' Bruno sneered.
'Even for a Knowledgeable.'
'He couldn't handle the pain I caused.'
Flyte swallowed hard, the muzzle of the gun pushing uncomfortably against her trachea. 'No, I don't imagine he could.'
'But you could?' He was smiling now.
'You know the answer to that.'
He traced the muzzle down her throat to the front of her chest, pressing it against the shoulder joint. 'A few rounds here and there in the joints should help you find the will to cooperate, I think. I do not know if there are Curets around here to help you, though. You might just be crippled for life or bleed and die. What do you think, Etienne Flyte?'
'I've already endured the worst your Group could muster and it was pathetic.'
'That was when we were not quite as proficient with torture as we are now. Trust me. You would not be so brave if you knew what we plan for you.'
She clenched her jaw, refusing to believe his words. To do so would just make her panic and that would put her mentally where he wanted her. Instead she told herself she had experienced worse; for weeks on end. Now, if she made him angry enough there was a chance it would all be over soon. 'Bruno? I think you should go fuck yourself.'
His brown eyes glinted black and his smile was sinister and hard. 'Too bad.'
As she tensed for the shot the Hunter tilted his head, listening, and sniffed the air. He jerked to his feet and looked across the roof of the car at the overgrown path he had driven down.
A middle-aged man in a grubby rugby shirt, plaster-splattered long shorts and work boots was walking towards him, hands in pockets. He looked a bit like a tradesman but most of the factories still in use were behind him so there should have been no reason for him to be crossing that grassy area unless… Bruno remembered the graffiti-covered wall and the train lines. Perhaps this was a short cut to the train? That should have been taken into account.
Aware his captive was hidden by the car, Bruno leaned forward casually on the vehicle, his gun pressed against her temple to keep her silent.
'You make a noise, he dies too.'
'As if I should care,' she whispered, halted by a poke from the barrel.
Bruno watched the man near, following the path in the weeds heading towards the wall. Both men were looking at each other. As the stranger came close he paused and fumbled in his pockets.
'Hey, mate. You haven't got a light, have you?'
Bruno shrugged. 'Don't smoke. Sorry.'
'Doesn't matter. I'm supposed to be quitting. That's a black Volvo three litre S-70, isn't it? Nice car.'
Bruno nodded amiably. 'It does the job.'
'If you don't mind me asking, how much was it?'
'It was cheap. An ex-rental.'
'Oh.'
The man stood as if waiting to say more. Bruno wanted him to go. The last thing he needed was a stupid Australian asking stupid questions on the way to the stupid train station. He would give the man another minute to escape but if the idiot didn't leave then, so help him, Bruno would just shoot. He liked to keep his messes to a minimum but sometimes they were unavoidable.
'You couldn't give me five bucks, could you, mate?' The man took a step closer. 'But I lost me wallet and…'
'Yes, yes. Sure.' Bruno reached down and swapped his gun to his left hand, still shoved up to the silent Knowledgeable's temple. With his free right hand he picked up her wad of notes and slipped one out, a yellowish piece of plastic. 'Here.'
'Wow,' the man was astonished and grateful. 'A fifty. Geez, thanks mate. You’re a mate. Thanks.' He reached out and took the money, his fingers just brushing the tips of Bruno's. 'Cheers, mate.' He turned and quickly walked away, folding up his prize and slipping it into his pocket.
Bruno watched the man go then cast a glance down at Etienne. He expected some sort of reaction from her but there was nothing. She sat quietly, gun at her head, as if contemplating the weather. Did she even know the danger she was in? He gave her a shove with the barrel and she looked up at him. Bored. Waiting.
Bruno frowned. How could anyone in such a position seem bored? More than that, she seemed to be patiently awaiting his next threat; waiting to see if he was serious about shooting her. She should know better than that. Once the stranger was out of hearing Bruno would show her how serious he was. Then he had an idea - what if she was not waiting for him to do something?
His attention went back to the stranger. The man had halted facing him, staring him down with his hand pointing and fingers outstretched. Before the Hunter could react his world went dark and he was plunged into blindness.
Bruno gave a cry and staggered back, his free hand rubbing his eyes and trying to bring back the light. He stumbled on gravel and thistles, sticking out his other arm to keep balance. A foot kicked the gun from his hand and he realised Etienne was on her feet. It took a moment for him to engage his Gift but when he did it snapped his nerves and muscles taut, heightening his hearing and speed. There were two targets in his dark world, the one close at his side and one approaching from the other side of the car. One was Etienne, a Knowledgeable, but the other was unknown and that was not good.
Etienne leaped after the weapon into the grass, hoping she could find it before Bruno turned Hunter and attacked her. It was a small black lump amongst green and she grabbed it in her gloved hand - and screamed. It was physically painful, a burning stabbing through her palm and up her arm. She fancied she could smell flesh smouldering but that was probably part of the aversion. Then nausea hit her stomach, sweating, and the absolute unreasonable terror of a phobia like she felt in water.
Her instinctive reaction was to drop it, get as far from it as possible, but Etienne liked to think she was beyond working on instinct. She was a creature of reason, of Knowledge, and she knew what she was feeling was a trick to make her release it. There was nothing to fear, no true pain or damage, just a bluff. She just had to control herself and endure - she had managed before but that had been with help. Gritting her teeth she spun and held the gun, her hand shaking.
Her shot went wide, missing everything, but it made her the immediate threat. Bruno followed the sound and swatted her, tossing her aside. He heard the sound of the gun landing on stones and tilted his head to pinpoint the location. She was moving away from it now so he turned his attention to the next threat, the male target. Footsteps came up from behind Bruno and he dodged the NightBringer's small knife, twisting away and connecting a fist with the man's torso. The NightBringer gasped in pain and slashed uselessly with his blade, expecting a blind man to be a little more helpless. Locating him by his yelp, Bruno struck with a fist, connecting to the man's shoulder. He had hoped for a chest hit, a blow to the heart, but blind men couldn't be choosers.
This hurt the NightBringer and he staggered back with a cry, his knife held limply in his fingers. It was enough of a distraction for him to release his grip on the Hunter. Bruno blinked and saw light and dark, a flickering monochrome image of the world. Better than nothing. He noticed Etienne at the car grabbing her things, felt the Knowledge being used, and took steps towards her.
She spun and yelled. 'He can see. Control it, Brian, or he'll kill you!'
The NightBringer focussed as she had told him in the dream, holding on to the link from the touch of Bruno's fingertips and reaching into his vision. The world was black for the Hunter once more.
For Bruno there were still two targets: one with a knife causing him to be blind and one with nothing but a phone and money. He knew which one to go for now. The Hunter took a careful step to the left into the grass, his feet lifted high to avoid tripping. Then another step onto gravel. With his unseeing eyes fixed on the direction he last saw the NightBringer, he crouched down and picked up the gun. The man retreated, his boots crunching on the gravel and drawing Bruno's attention. The Hunter raised the gun to aim at the source.
The NightBringer shouted, 'No!' as the pistol fired. The shot missed only because the man had ducked, hands over his ears. Bruno re-aimed but now in his darkness there was something emerging. He thought his sight was returning again but it was something else. His vision cleared and he was in one of the carriages of the enormous London Eye Ferris wheel, rising up into the sky and gazing down over the Thames and the city sprawled out before him. It was sunny, bright, but the sky was dark. He turned and realised the carriage was full of Hunter-Seekers. His group were there, also the Berlin, Prague and Penrith groups along with Hunters he had never met, but they were all his race.
They were there with him, overcrowding the carriage dangerously, prepared to take him down with them but to go down as one group, united to the very end. They were close to him, so close now they were pushing him up against the glass. He was being smothered by his species, their eyes black and dead and thoughtless. Acting on instinct and his mental directions. Violent zombie extensions of himself ready to do his bidding - unless they realised he was not playing the game by their rules, by their ethics. He was always careful; they would never know he was not doing it all for them but for himself. Then as he thought it they suddenly knew. And he knew they knew.
The black of their eyes glistened and he smelled the change in their temper, the shift into inconsolable rage. He tried to hold them back and control them but they seethed with fury that their leader was working for his own ends. He was betraying them. Fear like he had never, ever felt gripped Bruno Kiel and he fell against the window, frozen in terror.
Their teeth were bared, turning into fangs, and the carriage rocked ever so gently as it began its slow descent on the wheel. The teeth were going to hurt and so were the nails; a drawn-out death. Bruno knew this was not going to be a pleasant way to go, torn to shreds by his group, but there was no reasoning with them. They were in the thrall of their Gift and only their leader - him - could make them see reason, and they were no longer prepared to listen to him.
Then he recognised the Hunter-Seeker in front of him as not one of his race. It was the Australian man he had seen recently, but now his overly-wide mouth was full of teeth and his eyes smouldered with fire. The terror of being eviscerated by his people faded in comparison to seeing this creature before him. 'What do you want?' Bruno managed to whisper.
'Leave me alone. Leave the woman alone. If not I will be back every night. Every time you sleep. Every time you're in the dark…'
Bruno had a flash of memory - they had been in a vacant lot and he had been about to shoot this man, or a version of this man. Or had that been a dream? Had there even been a gun? The cold and ruthless Hunter was crying now, so scared, so scared, and he wished he had a gun. He raised his hand and suddenly there it was, a nine millimetre pistol being held tightly in his fingers. Reassuringly.
Bruno smiled at this, feeling himself gaining the upper hand as his Gift engaged and he saw the dream for what it was - a dream and nothing more. Nothing to fear. His eyes turned black and focused on the astonished NightBringer, no longer such a threat. The NightBringer retreated between the stationary Hunter-Seekers, his eyes on the pistol and wondering how it got into a dream he was creating. Bruno fired.
And then Bruno was standing in the vacant lot, his sight clear as he watched the man in the shorts and shirt in front of him slowly crumple to his knees. Blood stained the small hole in his chest where his heart used to live. The NightBringer's lips quivered and he coughed blood but his eyes were fixed on the Hunter, unable to understand how he could have been defeated. He had Gifts, fantastic abilities that he was just getting the hang of, and he had done everything the Knowledgeable had said. How could it have gone wrong? Bruno stepped forward and put the gun to the man's temple and shot again. And again.
The body fell into an awkward heap which satisfied Bruno. He didn't want the stupid, interfering man to be comfortable even in death. He didn't deserve it. After a moment more of gloating, Bruno's attention returned to his Knowledgeable prisoner. He glanced around but saw no sign of her. How much time had passed while he had been in the nightmare? Not a lot, surely. The car was still there because he had the keys but her things were gone. So, she had run off on foot - Bruno knew she would not be difficult to catch up to. In fact, he was rather looking forward to it.
He grinned, allowing his Hunter Gift to waken fully, and sniffed the air. Extending his senses he felt out for the trace of a Knowledgeable. He detected it, recognised it, but it ricocheted from several directions, distorted and inconclusive. He forced himself to focus but the scent, the noise, the taste, was impossible to pinpoint.
Bruno understood that if he had only had more Hunters or Hunter-Seekers with him they could have combined their strength and triangulated their focus, the way the Penrith Group had originally found Etienne and the new Knowledgeable's rough location... but Bruno was alone. Any lesson to be learnt from this he disregarded as he ran his black gaze slowly across the overgrown landscape to search for signs of movement. There was nothing there but a dead NightBringer and bitter disappointment.
* * * *
It was a long time after these events that I found out what had happened. Again, if only I had known... but Flyte never spoke much to anyone about her thoughts or feelings or dreams. And she never accounted for her actions. Not back then. I just trusted blindly.
* * * *
Picking Up The Scent
Although Etienne Flyte had not reached the point of longing for pickled rollmops and poffertje she was looking forward to leaving Australia and walking the straat up to the Rijks Museum, to drink coffee at Dam Square again. She knew the best places there for coffee, tea, herrings, tailors, cocaine, galleries and books. Amsterdam was the closest thing she had to a home now, the warmest thing she allowed into her nomadic life that was beginning to feel just a little too cold for comfort. A little too solitary, even with the presence of Jessica Moorland - maybe even because of it. She had always quite enjoyed being alone but now it was starting to feel… lonely.
Walking through the multi-storey car park, she beeped the immobiliser on the black Volvo as she approached. The lights flashed and she pondered how she would dispose of the latest fine vehicle. At least this one was intact even if it was streaked with dirt and dried locusts from the journey up the Hume Highway.
Her mind was going through a mental checklist, ticking off all that she had to do before leaving. Tickets to Amsterdam via Singapore were arranged and electronic, although as a rule she disliked the trail such purchases left. The Banks brothers were allocating resources and removalists were coming that afternoon, after she and Tracey were on their plane. They could have Etienne's belongings too, not that there was much she had acquired during her stay. Some clothes and a book or two.
She had already sent on the Chinese art book along with some of her false identification. Dr. Parker had gone to kitty heaven in the sky, though he had gone kicking and screaming - or at least clawing and biting - as she had tossed him under the car on the main road. She had blocked that Knowledge but had underestimated how much a Chronicler vision could reveal.
Her best bet would be to not mention it again and certainly not think about it in case Tracey somehow tuned in. It would only make the Australian more suspicious than she was and less receptive to Etienne's advice. It had been for Tracey's own good, to make her sever ties with her home quickly; it was nothing personal. Etienne liked cats well enough, but she knew from experience that sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind. Better to lose one cat and be safely gone than to linger and have the Penrith Hunter-Seekers come knocking on the door. Although the Knowledge continued to say the group were static, Etienne did not want to run the risk of staying too long. It was only a matter of time until they made a move. In fact, she couldn't understand why they had not.
As she reached the boot of the Volvo she heard footsteps behind her, quick and light, but there was no time to react. There was barely time to feel that awful something in the air... She had barely started to turn when a fist connected with her jaw and her world turned black.
It was the pale grey-green of her nightmare again but this time she was aware straight away that it was not real. Although it was the same English river with the upside-down car and the grassy steep slopes rising up to the damaged stone bridge, it was not the same. Whereas before there had been some semblance of reality now it was static and empty, like a washed out photograph. There were no sheep, no birds, no frogs, no people. Even the water seemed to rush by over the rapids in hushed tones. It was no less frightening to be part of. It was like turning up at a fair-ground too early and only the lights were on, with the rides being prepared elsewhere for the opening time. This dream was not yet open for customers. But why? Had she arrived too suddenly?
Standing knee-deep in the cold river, Etienne was frozen in place staring at the half-submerged Daimler, expecting to see something emerge - and terrified that she would. The longer she gazed, the more she felt her awareness of being in a dream slip; it was taking on a life, becoming real to her. She had to struggle to stay grounded and awake to her predicament or fall to the mercy of the dream and its own logic.
There was a noise at her back, a stealthy shuffle of clothing and a ripple of water. Etienne guessed it was the man from her recent river dreams and the thought of seeing him again brought tears of terror to her eyes. She clenched her teeth and tried to keep focussed. It was a dream, she told herself, not reality. He was a Special Person manipulating her, nothing more sinister. And she was asleep…
Then she remembered she was not. Surely not. There had been a noise in the car park and a blow then darkness, and then she was here. But not a dream. It couldn't be. It had been too sudden and the NightBringer had been caught unprepared. If she was not asleep then what? Was she hurt? Unconscious? Did it matter to the person creeping up from behind her now? He was still manipulating the scene and creating the fear in her thumping heart.
'Every time you sleep I'll put you in here,' the hissing voice at her ear said. He was closer than she thought and she flinched, unable to move her feet.
'I'm not asleep,' she whispered back, surprised at her own bravery; she knew it was only because she had not seen him yet. Once she had she would crumble.
For a moment he hesitated then continued. 'Every time. Every night you sleep. I can find you in here and out there. I'll track you down and get closer and closer. You will help me.' His breath was warm on her neck, his voice sloppy through a mouthful of saliva and teeth.
She closed her eyes and made herself sound firm, like she did in the real world. Fearless. In command. 'Then you find me now, Brian. Come and find me now in the outside world. I will tell you what you want to know if you come to me right now.
She heard his breath catch in his throat, unsure of her offer. 'What do you mean?'
'Do I have to spell it out, Brian? I'm not asleep, am I? Am I unconscious? In a coma? Dead? I don't know. But if something has happened to me then I may be hurt. I need help. If you help me, Brian, I will be very grateful. I will tell you everything you want about being a NightBringer.'
He exhaled sharply and took a step away. Etienne kept her eyes shut and her mind on what she had to say and do. No time to think about dreaming or the man behind her with the broad mouth full of fangs and eyes of smouldering coal. No thoughts about cars in the river or standing in water.
'I'm a... NightBringer?' It was a question but as he spoke he knew the truth of it. The name fit like a very tight glove, leaving no room for any doubt. 'Yes. Of course. That is what I am. Night. Bringer.'
'And the amazing things you can do…' Etienne tried to sound enticing. It seemed to work.
'Like what? Tell me.'
'You are a classic NightBringer, my dear Brian. It isn't always the case, no, but when it does turn up… You have the combination that is a match made in heaven, two complementary Gifts. Your major is NightBringer, and you can enter into dreams and find people through them. Your minor though, is a Darksee. Lovely combination.'
'A what? How? What is that? How do I do things?' Now he was eager, excited, and she could hear that his threat was failing. The nightmare was turning brighter and warmer, unravelling its menace as he lost his. Even his voice was turning into his normal, ocker accented tone without the spittle and the teeth. He was unable to hold it together - because he was simply not a very good NightBringer. Not yet.
Her confidence growing, Etienne opened her eyes and turned to face him. It was just a man; the man from Chapel Street in his plaster splattered tradesman's clothing. Nothing to fear. She smiled. 'Come find me now and save me. I'll show you what to do. I will show you everything.'
Eventually Etienne Flyte awoke, slowly and painfully, her head throbbing and her nose filled with the scent of new plastic and rubber. She was curled up uncomfortably on something hard and lumpy in a dark, stuffy place. When she tried to sit up she bumped her head and found there was a low roof, and that she was inside some sort of container. Then came the sudden realisation - she was in a car boot. Probably her own. There was no sense of movement though and no engine noise, so they were either about to set off for their destination or they had arrived.
She wrapped her arms around her temples to dull the ache in her head and to calm her fear. She told herself this situation was just like the nightmare river and the little nightmare man trying to manipulate her emotions to make her do something against her will. All she had to do was stay alert and think carefully, remember she was smarter and in control. She was the one with the Knowledge, after all.
Heavy footfalls on gravel approached the rear of the car. What was she to expect now? Should she feign unconsciousness or prepare to run? Should she fight or just surrender and save herself more pain? Options were still being debated when she heard the boot unlock with a clunk and the lid rose.
Etienne blinked blindly in the sudden light, trying to focus on who was there. Strong hands grabbed the lapels of her coat and threw her out and onto the gravel and thistles at the rear of the car. She fell awkwardly, jarring her joints and tearing her suit.
Deliberately seeming more helpless than she was, she pulled herself slowly to her hands and knees. She even gave a bit of a theatrical whimper, playing on her weakness but building her strength. As a tactic it had previously worked well for her. Then she raised her eyes and saw who was standing over her - and cursed silently. The tactic would not work on the same person twice. Certainly not thrice. Even Hunters eventually learned their lessons.
'Bruno,' she groaned.
'Good afternoon, Etienne Flyte. It is a pleasure to meet with you again.' He was all manners and joviality, with a jaunty lilt to his fading German accent. Etienne wondered if he had an audience he was trying to impress. She sat herself with her back against the car door, gloved hands on her bent knees to stop them trembling, trying not to look up at the Hunter and allow him to threaten her. No way would she give him the satisfaction. Instead she gazed at her surroundings.
They were parked in an uneven, overgrown industrial block, part of a demolished factory, backing onto a copse of wiry shrubs and long weeds. A murky open drain that might have once been a stream flowed in a gully carved between two dilapidated cyclone fences, separating them from the distant inhabited industrial suburb. Freeway bridges spanned high above, blocking the sun, and the overhead wires of train lines and distant city skyscrapers were just visible over the top of a thick concrete wall covered in graffiti. Enough noise to cover any she might make, secluded enough that nobody was likely to come near, and yet close enough to civilisation that he could get home from torture in time for tea. Typical of a Hunter, she thought. Central city and yet wilderness. They do like that combination.
Her lack of response annoyed Bruno. He bent down and slapped her cheek hard. She gave a cry, more of shock than pain, and held her face, unresisting as he ran his hands through her pockets and took her few possessions.
'Etienne! I cannot believe you carry so little. Women always carry handbags, you know.'
She spat blood. 'What for, my chihuahua?'
He ignored her, piling the objects on the car boot and sorting through them. Money - a lot of notes secured with a plain silver clip. A credit card in a name he did not recognise. A house key without a tag. A tiny decorative carved black bottle. A mobile phone.
Etienne was concerned but remained outwardly calm. Had she erased all the history on the phone? Normally she did after each call but she had been lazy and complacent while in Australia, underestimating the dangers even as she had tried to impress them upon Tracey. It served her right to be caught out by Bruno, she thought glumly. She had been stupid and let her guard down. Now she knew what would happen - it had happened before when Bruno caught her - and there was nothing she could do.
Her phone gave a few tentative beeps as the Hunter pressed buttons, then a series of tones sounded. It was redialling. Etienne tried to recall who she had last spoken with. Jeremy? Her family? Tracey? Her housekeeper in Amsterdam? The airline for tomorrow's journey? Escher Banks? Even from ten feet away she could hear the muffled but distinctive voice of the person who answered. Etienne winced.
* * * *
'Hello?' I said. I had taken on board some of Flyte's advice, including answering without saying much. I no longer answered with a cheerful: 'Tracey's phone.' Just as well.
'Ah, hello, good morning?' Bruno was the epitome of politeness and concern towards me, his German accent dropped in favour of something more neutral. 'I'm afraid there has been an accident. Do you know a Miss Etienne Flyte?'
Etienne rested her forehead on her knees, defeated, convinced I was going to lead him straight to me. Once he had two Knowledgeables we were all as good as dead. Or worse. Of course, I didn't know that then.
But I was calm in my response to the stranger. 'Who is this?'
'My name's David, I'm a nurse at the Royal Albert Hospital. Etienne has been brought in. There has been an accident. I can't say more at the moment unless you are a friend or relative. Do you know her or not?'
There was silence at the other end. Flyte felt a brush past her mind, light and tingling; the feeling of Knowledge being used. Perhaps the Australian had listened to her after all, she thought.
I was anxious the person on the other end would be attempting to track me down so I asked the bare minimum only, learning the caller was a Hunter and he was holding Flyte against her will. 'I don't know who you are talking about,' I said. 'And you're lying. You're no nurse.'
Bruno planted a foot on the centre of Etienne's chest crushing her up against the car and pushing the air from her lungs. She choked back a cry, refusing to give him any response he wanted.
'Okay, I am no nurse,' he snarled at me, 'but you know she's hurting, don't you? You can tell that, can't you? You're one of them, aren't you?'
I could tell. Somehow I could. It was like someone shucking out my heart and draining my blood. Despite the fact I understood it was the Knowledge manipulating my emotions it seemed so genuine, as if I was condemning my mother to the fate Flyte was facing - torture and death. It made my actions all the more difficult but I knew what I had to do. I had been told less than a day before how I should react.
Closing my eyes I said firmly, 'Don't call me again,' then hung up. I felt like I had just put a gun to Flyte's head and the guilt made my mouth taste of bitter bile. I waited, eyes shut, wondering if my phone would ring again and not sure how I would react if it did. Things had gone very, very wrong. It had been a Hunter that had spoken on Flyte's phone and the menace in his voice played back over and over in my mind. It scared me enough to stop me asking the Knowledge questions.
I wondered if the phone call was a trap to make me use my Gift to lead the Hunter to me, or was it to lure me to him in order to save her? Obviously he did not know our race well. But why would the Hunters want me, a novice, especially if they already possessed Flyte? I needed to know but there was no way I'd take the risk of asking; it had been stressed I should not. Flyte had also stressed to me that a Knowledgeable captured by Hunter-Seekers was lost and should be abandoned to their fate. There could be no rescue - it was too dangerous. For all intents and purposes then, Etienne Flyte was dead.
The anxiety hampered my erratic Chronicler Gift so I relied on my memory of conversations with Flyte just to be certain of my instructions. It translated down to one notion - flee the country. With the help of the Knowledge I would have no problem making my way to England and to Jeremy Grant, and now it was imperative I do exactly that. I asked the Knowledge one final question, received the curt reply, then dialled the number on my phone. It rang several times until a middle-aged aristocratic male voice answered anonymously with one word, the same way I had been taught. 'Hello?'
I cleared my throat, not sure what I was going to say, but I knew I had to talk to someone. I needed advice. 'Jeremy Grant? I assume you know me and you know there is a problem. My name is Tracey Anderson and I could do with some help...'
* * * *
Etienne Flyte peered up at Bruno who was glaring in disgust at her phone, unable to believe the woman at the other end had hung up on him. No one dared to hang up on him.
'Well, you are obviously loved,' he said dryly. 'They'd rather let you die, it seems.'
'You wouldn't understand.' In truth, neither did Etienne. Although the Knowledgeables had a mutual agreement she had only briefly outlined it to Tracey, and she had not expected the Australian to so rapidly adopt it. Had she overestimated Tracey's compassion or underestimated the girl's ability to pick up instructions? Etienne was unsure if she should be pleased or upset so she decided to fall back on amused resignation.
In a strange way, Etienne felt she had succeeded by ensuring Tracey was smart enough to run away at the first sign of trouble. However, she had also failed by being careless enough to let Hunter-Seekers capture her, inevitably leading to her torture and death. Oh, well, a pyrrhic victory was better than none. No point being worried by the inevitable. Fearful? Yes. Horrified? Most certainly she was, but worried? That implied there might be another option - a hope of rescue, perhaps - and there was none. A defeatist attitude was appropriate when one was defeated.
Her life was now measurable in hours, maybe days, but nothing more. Bruno could never make her use her Gift by force but he didn't know that, even though he should have guessed from their first meeting when he tried a variety of 'techniques' to make her cooperate. And failed. He was accustomed to Hunter-Seeker methods gaining his group whatever they wanted in the world, but with Knowledgeables their methods failed. Etienne knew that while the group frittered their time trying to make her cooperate, Tracey would quietly escape the country and head to England.
Etienne had no special feelings for the Australian girl - found her a little simple and irritating, really, but then most people were. However, Tracey was an untrained Knowledgeable with unproven levels of ability and her potential was unknown; perhaps she would become the best Knowledgeable ever and progress their race beyond the current limits. Etienne could die reasonably content in knowing she had been instrumental in such an outcome because the Knowledge meant that much to her. More than any person.
Besides, Etienne had cheated the Hunters-Seekers twice before - unheard of - and she accepted that it was about time her luck ran out. There would be no one to mourn her passing, well, maybe one person, but they would get over it. In her life Etienne had seen and done more than many people had and she had no regrets; nothing left undone. All that was left was a final sacrifice of herself to protect the Knowledge. A fitting end. She just hoped it would be quick.
Bruno paced, still pushing buttons on the phone but unable to find any other contacts in the history. Etienne knew that with some metadata analysing equipment he could get more out of it but once the other Knowledgeables felt her death they would all change their numbers. It was standard procedure.
When he grew tired of trying he slammed the phone on the car boot beside her other possessions. She heard him shuffling the items about and wondered if he was counting her money. It was unlikely it held much interest - like Knowledgeables, Hunter-Seekers could obtain money when required so it held little attraction for them. Then she remembered what else was in her possession, the only other thing that was a concern. Or at least it would have been if she was going to live. As things stood in her current situation, her cocaine use was irrelevant. Death certainly made one abstain for good.
'What is this?' Bruno snapped.
Etienne looked up and saw the ink stone bottle with the two carved dragons. Her final piece, as it turned out, and one of the few stone bottles in her collection. 'It's an antique Imperial Guangzhou snuff bottle from the eighteenth century. Quite the collector's item when they are in good order. They also carved them out of wood, bone, made them in glass and painted them from the inside-"
'I'm not really all that interested,' he tossed it back onto the boot. To him, aesthetics and antiques were boring.
She winced as the bottle hit metal, hoping it was still intact. 'That's my good luck charm,' she added.
'It failed.'
Etienne sensed a coolness in the Hunter but she assumed it was due to him not using his talent. The other times she had encountered him he had been in the thrall of his Hunter Gift and surrounded by other Hunters and Hunter-Seekers under his command. Then something occurred to her; where were the rest of the London Group? Or the Penrith Group? Or at least Helen Allen? Hunter-Seekers did not go out Hunting alone - that was something only Americans would do, and nothing scared them all more than the notion of an American Hunter-Seeker on the loose.
'Where are your usual pack of animals?' she asked.
'I give them a day off.'
'No. Hunters always go around in groups. Everything for the good of the pack, for the good of the race, never for personal gain -'
'Well, you obviously don't know our race as well as you think!'
She snorted a derisive laugh at so ridiculous a statement.
Bruno felt obliged to prove himself. 'I am in contact with the Penrith Group. They told me Knowledgeables were around here somewhere and from their information I Hunted you out. You have been very loud and you are very distinctive to me. The other one, I cannot find just yet. Perhaps later. Now, I shall take you to the Penrith Hunter-Seekers and we shall all have a pleasant conversation, yes? You can tell us everything we want to know. Everything a Hunter can do.'
'And Hunter-Seekers too, of course.'
'Yes, of course. Get on your feet.'
Etienne was too busy thinking to move. 'If the plan was for the group to question me, why is it you have brought me out here alone to a place isolated and far from the pack? I know the Penrith Group is still over the border even though they must have heard Knowledgeables and wanted to join the Hunt. So why didn't they follow... or perhaps they did but you called them off. Sent them back to prevent me sensing I was being Hunted by a group.'
'I did not want them to make you suspect, no. Alone, I think, you will not see me. I was right.'
She mentally kicked herself for being too narrow-minded in her questions. The only Hunters she anticipated being a threat were the Penrith Group - she never considered asking about the Londoners or Bruno himself because it was unheard of for groups to combine. 'Others might suppose you just wanted me all for yourself; that you require only Hunter information because that's your sole Gift, and as the leader you have enough autonomy to allow you to act without your dogs in tow.'
Bruno paused, watching her through narrowed eyes. Was she guessing this or did she know? 'Ah, you like to talk nonsense. You don't like to talk Knowledge, but nonsense - all the time. I know it seems odd to you but as the leader I can make decisions on my own, I can go where I want and do as I like, and my pack are satisfied that I work only to benefit us all.'
This brought out a chuckle from her. 'If I didn't know better I would think you were being facetious.'
'Etienne Flyte, do not concern yourself with irrelevancies. Speculation is worthless. Instead you should concern yourself with answering our questions about our Gift.' He leaned down towards her, hands on his thighs. 'After all, we two are quite the rarity. We should stick together, us pure breeds.'
Her eyebrows arched in surprise.
'Or do you prefer the term pure bloods? There are a few names for us but they all mean the same thing. Single Gifted.'
She scoffed. 'Not that old wives' tale: if you only have one Gift then you must excel with it as all your energy is expended towards one talent? Nonsense.'
'Is it really? I am the strongest Hunter, I am certain, and you are a pure Knowledgeable. Don't you think you the best with your one Gift?'
Etienne's pride wouldn't let her deny it but there was a more pressing question in her mind. 'How do you know?'
Now it was Bruno's turn to be smug. 'Knowledge.'
'No. No one would give you Knowledge. Besides, if that were the case Helen Allen would have been rubbing that particular salt in my wounds at our last meeting. I'm no Hunter-Seeker, Bruno, but I know a lie when I hear it.'
'Raganar Thorenson.'
'Who?'
'Don't patronise me, Etienne. He was one of you. We caught him trying to rescue his friend Tam Sidderath. At least, I assume that was his plan. We never discussed that.'
'Because Helen Allen cut off Tam's head,' she snapped. Etienne had quite liked the agreeable little Thai. Tam had been a good-natured roly-poly man in his late forties when she had first met him, not long after she had become a Knowledgeable. When they last talked he had been as alert and lively as ever despite his encroaching old age, with no signs of senility or physical impediments. Then he had been taken by the Hunters.
Under their mutual agreement, the rest of the Knowledgeables retreated to their individual hidey-holes and awaited the inevitable rush of emotions at their colleague's death, hoping it would be a fast and easy end for him. It had been. Not all of their race had complied with the agreement, though, and not long after Tam was gone they had felt the death of the Swedish Knowledgeable, Raganar, and his human family. All killed by the London Hunter-Seekers.
Bruno crouched down to Etienne's level. 'Helen Allen got carried away by the blood but you know how she is. Hunter-Seekers don't like liars. While she was interrogating Tam we had a visit from Raganar who wanted to save his friend. How noble. How self-sacrificing. How stupid. I dealt with him personally. Found items in his pockets. Photographs. Mementoes. A folded drawing from one of his children on paper stamped by his school. It did not take me long to have his wife and two children on the Isle of Mann found and brought to me. It did not take me long to make them make him talk.'
Etienne knew some of this, had asked the Knowledge when they felt it happen, but she had never delved too deeply into the facts. Only Jeremy had - it had been his turn to "sanitise" - and he had done so by blocking the worst of the information, the data that was of no benefit to their race. It was their courtesy to the dead. Questioning the Knowledge would just bring up the gruesome details of something none of them wanted to think about because it could happen to them.
She had warned the Swede years earlier he was making a mistake indulging in his excess but he had ignored her. When it came to obsessions Raganar had the worst one of all, one the rest of the Knowledgeables did their best to avoid; a loving family. No wonder he buckled and gave the Hunter-Seekers the Knowledge they craved. He would not have been able to help himself once Bruno started on his family. How much information did he give, though? And why had Helen Allen not mentioned it when Etienne last met her? Then she realised.
'You got the information from Raganar. Personally. You got it for yourself while the rest were involved with Tam. Did you tell them he gave you nothing? He died without uttering a word? Your pack of dogs believed you?'
Bruno rocked on his heels, smiling gently. Darkly. 'Of course. And if you tell me what I want to know it will stay with us. I have no desire to share with these stupid Australian Hunter-Seekers. My group alone will be given what I give them. As the leader I can choose what I divulge.'
'Not according to your race ethics-'
'Don't lecture me!' His right hand grabbed her throat, his long fingers clamping her windpipe tightly. 'I know my Hunter-Seeker ethics!'
'You just choose to ignore them,' she croaked.
'What I do is to advance my race. Keeping me strong and as leader is good for my race.' He released her, his lip curling in disgust. 'You don't understand because you're a weak, pathetic Knowledgeable. Well, just be weak for a bit longer and do as I say.' He reached into the waistband of his trousers and produced a small pistol, only a nine millimetre but at close range it was enough to kill. It was hardly the usual threatening weapon of the pack animal Hunter-Seekers; it barely satiated their need for violence.
Etienne smiled at the gun. Compared to what they had put her through in the past it was laughable. 'Is that the best you could do?'
He pinned her shoulder against the car door, shoving the barrel of the gun up under her chin and tilting her head up. 'I think you'll find it's big enough.'
'I've heard that before.'
'Tell me something about being a Hunter I don't know.'
'How about: they all have bad breath?'
A low growl came from his throat. 'You think I'm not serious?'
'Oh, on the contrary. I think you're deadly serious. I just won't help you and you cannot bully me into doing so.'
'I bullied Raganar into doing so.'
She knew how. The Thorenson family were all gone now, eliminated one by one to make Raganar talk. It had been his only weak point, the only thing that could force him to give Knowledge against his will. Even if he wanted to be silent the Knowledge itself would not allow it at the cost of his family's lives. That was why Knowledgeables isolated themselves, kept their family at arm's length and friends few. If the Hunter-Seekers realised they were the key to unlocking the Knowledge they would start a whole new Hunt with a whole new goal - families. And they would soon have everything they wanted.
Still, Etienne was pleased by Bruno's assumption that his bullying had produced Knowledge - he had not correlated the family as the key factor. Yet. His mind always went to intimidation and violence as the main weapons. Hunters were not subtle creatures.
'I hate to say it of a colleague but Raganar was weak.'
'Even for a Knowledgeable,' Bruno sneered.
'Even for a Knowledgeable.'
'He couldn't handle the pain I caused.'
Flyte swallowed hard, the muzzle of the gun pushing uncomfortably against her trachea. 'No, I don't imagine he could.'
'But you could?' He was smiling now.
'You know the answer to that.'
He traced the muzzle down her throat to the front of her chest, pressing it against the shoulder joint. 'A few rounds here and there in the joints should help you find the will to cooperate, I think. I do not know if there are Curets around here to help you, though. You might just be crippled for life or bleed and die. What do you think, Etienne Flyte?'
'I've already endured the worst your Group could muster and it was pathetic.'
'That was when we were not quite as proficient with torture as we are now. Trust me. You would not be so brave if you knew what we plan for you.'
She clenched her jaw, refusing to believe his words. To do so would just make her panic and that would put her mentally where he wanted her. Instead she told herself she had experienced worse; for weeks on end. Now, if she made him angry enough there was a chance it would all be over soon. 'Bruno? I think you should go fuck yourself.'
His brown eyes glinted black and his smile was sinister and hard. 'Too bad.'
As she tensed for the shot the Hunter tilted his head, listening, and sniffed the air. He jerked to his feet and looked across the roof of the car at the overgrown path he had driven down.
A middle-aged man in a grubby rugby shirt, plaster-splattered long shorts and work boots was walking towards him, hands in pockets. He looked a bit like a tradesman but most of the factories still in use were behind him so there should have been no reason for him to be crossing that grassy area unless… Bruno remembered the graffiti-covered wall and the train lines. Perhaps this was a short cut to the train? That should have been taken into account.
Aware his captive was hidden by the car, Bruno leaned forward casually on the vehicle, his gun pressed against her temple to keep her silent.
'You make a noise, he dies too.'
'As if I should care,' she whispered, halted by a poke from the barrel.
Bruno watched the man near, following the path in the weeds heading towards the wall. Both men were looking at each other. As the stranger came close he paused and fumbled in his pockets.
'Hey, mate. You haven't got a light, have you?'
Bruno shrugged. 'Don't smoke. Sorry.'
'Doesn't matter. I'm supposed to be quitting. That's a black Volvo three litre S-70, isn't it? Nice car.'
Bruno nodded amiably. 'It does the job.'
'If you don't mind me asking, how much was it?'
'It was cheap. An ex-rental.'
'Oh.'
The man stood as if waiting to say more. Bruno wanted him to go. The last thing he needed was a stupid Australian asking stupid questions on the way to the stupid train station. He would give the man another minute to escape but if the idiot didn't leave then, so help him, Bruno would just shoot. He liked to keep his messes to a minimum but sometimes they were unavoidable.
'You couldn't give me five bucks, could you, mate?' The man took a step closer. 'But I lost me wallet and…'
'Yes, yes. Sure.' Bruno reached down and swapped his gun to his left hand, still shoved up to the silent Knowledgeable's temple. With his free right hand he picked up her wad of notes and slipped one out, a yellowish piece of plastic. 'Here.'
'Wow,' the man was astonished and grateful. 'A fifty. Geez, thanks mate. You’re a mate. Thanks.' He reached out and took the money, his fingers just brushing the tips of Bruno's. 'Cheers, mate.' He turned and quickly walked away, folding up his prize and slipping it into his pocket.
Bruno watched the man go then cast a glance down at Etienne. He expected some sort of reaction from her but there was nothing. She sat quietly, gun at her head, as if contemplating the weather. Did she even know the danger she was in? He gave her a shove with the barrel and she looked up at him. Bored. Waiting.
Bruno frowned. How could anyone in such a position seem bored? More than that, she seemed to be patiently awaiting his next threat; waiting to see if he was serious about shooting her. She should know better than that. Once the stranger was out of hearing Bruno would show her how serious he was. Then he had an idea - what if she was not waiting for him to do something?
His attention went back to the stranger. The man had halted facing him, staring him down with his hand pointing and fingers outstretched. Before the Hunter could react his world went dark and he was plunged into blindness.
Bruno gave a cry and staggered back, his free hand rubbing his eyes and trying to bring back the light. He stumbled on gravel and thistles, sticking out his other arm to keep balance. A foot kicked the gun from his hand and he realised Etienne was on her feet. It took a moment for him to engage his Gift but when he did it snapped his nerves and muscles taut, heightening his hearing and speed. There were two targets in his dark world, the one close at his side and one approaching from the other side of the car. One was Etienne, a Knowledgeable, but the other was unknown and that was not good.
Etienne leaped after the weapon into the grass, hoping she could find it before Bruno turned Hunter and attacked her. It was a small black lump amongst green and she grabbed it in her gloved hand - and screamed. It was physically painful, a burning stabbing through her palm and up her arm. She fancied she could smell flesh smouldering but that was probably part of the aversion. Then nausea hit her stomach, sweating, and the absolute unreasonable terror of a phobia like she felt in water.
Her instinctive reaction was to drop it, get as far from it as possible, but Etienne liked to think she was beyond working on instinct. She was a creature of reason, of Knowledge, and she knew what she was feeling was a trick to make her release it. There was nothing to fear, no true pain or damage, just a bluff. She just had to control herself and endure - she had managed before but that had been with help. Gritting her teeth she spun and held the gun, her hand shaking.
Her shot went wide, missing everything, but it made her the immediate threat. Bruno followed the sound and swatted her, tossing her aside. He heard the sound of the gun landing on stones and tilted his head to pinpoint the location. She was moving away from it now so he turned his attention to the next threat, the male target. Footsteps came up from behind Bruno and he dodged the NightBringer's small knife, twisting away and connecting a fist with the man's torso. The NightBringer gasped in pain and slashed uselessly with his blade, expecting a blind man to be a little more helpless. Locating him by his yelp, Bruno struck with a fist, connecting to the man's shoulder. He had hoped for a chest hit, a blow to the heart, but blind men couldn't be choosers.
This hurt the NightBringer and he staggered back with a cry, his knife held limply in his fingers. It was enough of a distraction for him to release his grip on the Hunter. Bruno blinked and saw light and dark, a flickering monochrome image of the world. Better than nothing. He noticed Etienne at the car grabbing her things, felt the Knowledge being used, and took steps towards her.
She spun and yelled. 'He can see. Control it, Brian, or he'll kill you!'
The NightBringer focussed as she had told him in the dream, holding on to the link from the touch of Bruno's fingertips and reaching into his vision. The world was black for the Hunter once more.
For Bruno there were still two targets: one with a knife causing him to be blind and one with nothing but a phone and money. He knew which one to go for now. The Hunter took a careful step to the left into the grass, his feet lifted high to avoid tripping. Then another step onto gravel. With his unseeing eyes fixed on the direction he last saw the NightBringer, he crouched down and picked up the gun. The man retreated, his boots crunching on the gravel and drawing Bruno's attention. The Hunter raised the gun to aim at the source.
The NightBringer shouted, 'No!' as the pistol fired. The shot missed only because the man had ducked, hands over his ears. Bruno re-aimed but now in his darkness there was something emerging. He thought his sight was returning again but it was something else. His vision cleared and he was in one of the carriages of the enormous London Eye Ferris wheel, rising up into the sky and gazing down over the Thames and the city sprawled out before him. It was sunny, bright, but the sky was dark. He turned and realised the carriage was full of Hunter-Seekers. His group were there, also the Berlin, Prague and Penrith groups along with Hunters he had never met, but they were all his race.
They were there with him, overcrowding the carriage dangerously, prepared to take him down with them but to go down as one group, united to the very end. They were close to him, so close now they were pushing him up against the glass. He was being smothered by his species, their eyes black and dead and thoughtless. Acting on instinct and his mental directions. Violent zombie extensions of himself ready to do his bidding - unless they realised he was not playing the game by their rules, by their ethics. He was always careful; they would never know he was not doing it all for them but for himself. Then as he thought it they suddenly knew. And he knew they knew.
The black of their eyes glistened and he smelled the change in their temper, the shift into inconsolable rage. He tried to hold them back and control them but they seethed with fury that their leader was working for his own ends. He was betraying them. Fear like he had never, ever felt gripped Bruno Kiel and he fell against the window, frozen in terror.
Their teeth were bared, turning into fangs, and the carriage rocked ever so gently as it began its slow descent on the wheel. The teeth were going to hurt and so were the nails; a drawn-out death. Bruno knew this was not going to be a pleasant way to go, torn to shreds by his group, but there was no reasoning with them. They were in the thrall of their Gift and only their leader - him - could make them see reason, and they were no longer prepared to listen to him.
Then he recognised the Hunter-Seeker in front of him as not one of his race. It was the Australian man he had seen recently, but now his overly-wide mouth was full of teeth and his eyes smouldered with fire. The terror of being eviscerated by his people faded in comparison to seeing this creature before him. 'What do you want?' Bruno managed to whisper.
'Leave me alone. Leave the woman alone. If not I will be back every night. Every time you sleep. Every time you're in the dark…'
Bruno had a flash of memory - they had been in a vacant lot and he had been about to shoot this man, or a version of this man. Or had that been a dream? Had there even been a gun? The cold and ruthless Hunter was crying now, so scared, so scared, and he wished he had a gun. He raised his hand and suddenly there it was, a nine millimetre pistol being held tightly in his fingers. Reassuringly.
Bruno smiled at this, feeling himself gaining the upper hand as his Gift engaged and he saw the dream for what it was - a dream and nothing more. Nothing to fear. His eyes turned black and focused on the astonished NightBringer, no longer such a threat. The NightBringer retreated between the stationary Hunter-Seekers, his eyes on the pistol and wondering how it got into a dream he was creating. Bruno fired.
And then Bruno was standing in the vacant lot, his sight clear as he watched the man in the shorts and shirt in front of him slowly crumple to his knees. Blood stained the small hole in his chest where his heart used to live. The NightBringer's lips quivered and he coughed blood but his eyes were fixed on the Hunter, unable to understand how he could have been defeated. He had Gifts, fantastic abilities that he was just getting the hang of, and he had done everything the Knowledgeable had said. How could it have gone wrong? Bruno stepped forward and put the gun to the man's temple and shot again. And again.
The body fell into an awkward heap which satisfied Bruno. He didn't want the stupid, interfering man to be comfortable even in death. He didn't deserve it. After a moment more of gloating, Bruno's attention returned to his Knowledgeable prisoner. He glanced around but saw no sign of her. How much time had passed while he had been in the nightmare? Not a lot, surely. The car was still there because he had the keys but her things were gone. So, she had run off on foot - Bruno knew she would not be difficult to catch up to. In fact, he was rather looking forward to it.
He grinned, allowing his Hunter Gift to waken fully, and sniffed the air. Extending his senses he felt out for the trace of a Knowledgeable. He detected it, recognised it, but it ricocheted from several directions, distorted and inconclusive. He forced himself to focus but the scent, the noise, the taste, was impossible to pinpoint.
Bruno understood that if he had only had more Hunters or Hunter-Seekers with him they could have combined their strength and triangulated their focus, the way the Penrith Group had originally found Etienne and the new Knowledgeable's rough location... but Bruno was alone. Any lesson to be learnt from this he disregarded as he ran his black gaze slowly across the overgrown landscape to search for signs of movement. There was nothing there but a dead NightBringer and bitter disappointment.
* * * *