glower at him. It’s bad enough feeling the scrutiny of the Orcus without knowing the federal government is looking into us, too. There was a time when no government would even consider questioning our actions. Trust them to decide otherwise when I’m in charge.
Something crunches in the undergrowth close to us. Tim and I spin towards the sound.
‘Down,’ I say, and Tim drops behind his car.
I can hear a heartbeat. It’s racing, and it’s not Tim’s. I grab the only weapon at hand, my stubby. The heartbeat is coming from behind a nearby tree. Taking a deep breath, I rush towards it and catch sight of a dim shape there, a large figure, hunched down.
There’s a flash. I hurl my stubby at the form. Beer splashes back at me. Glass shatters.
There’s no detonation of a gun firing. No bullets penetrating my thick skull. The heartbeat is gone. I scramble around the tree.
Nothing. Just a torch, its beam directed at my feet – the source of the flash, I guess. I can feel the residual warmth of a body from where it had leaned against thetree, and the slight electrical residue of a shift. It’s less than the memory of a ghost post-Pomp.
Whoever was here is good. They know how to hide their movements, even if they’re heavy on their feet.
‘It’s all right,’ I yell at Tim, holding the torch in the air.
He gets up and curses. Seems he threw himself onto his packet of cigarettes. Every single one of them is bent or broken.
‘At least you’re not drenched with beer,’ I say.
Tim grins staring at the mighty stain spreading across my trousers. ‘Are you sure that’s beer?’
I give him the most sarcastic smile I can. ‘Who the hell was that?’
‘Now,
that
could have been one of the RMs, or an Ankou. Spying on us, maybe wondering why the hell we were out here.’
‘They know how little we know then, if that’s the case.’
After another drink we’ve relaxed a little, and the beer down the front of me has evaporated. I might smell like a brewery but at least I’m dry. I’ve had two texts from Lissa, asking where I am and I’ll respond to them soon.
‘We’re going to need someone to watch your place,’ Tim says. ‘You’ll want Lissa close.’
‘What about you?’ I ask.
‘I’ll organise some security for us all.’ He straightens a cigarette.
‘Just how effective can security be if whoever is after me can shift?’
‘Look, we don’t even know if these two incidents are connected. If they were, why didn’t they just shift into your office this morning? A bit of protection is better than nothing. And trust me, the guys I’ve got in mind are
far
better than nothing. They’re prepared for this sort of thing.’
‘Really?’
‘You’re so used to dealing with this through Mortmax that you’ve forgotten that other people work to fill the gap. These guys are like this. I’ve used them before – my old department had the occasional bit of trouble.’
‘If you say they’re good enough. I trust you. I just wish –’
‘What are wishes going to get you?’ Tim asks. ‘This is happening. You are who you are, and you have to act appropriately.’
‘Sorry,’ I say.
‘For what?’
‘For bringing you into whatever the hell this is.’
Tim shakes his head. ‘Steve, you didn’t bring me into the last Schism. This is as much a part of my heritage as it is yours. I may have turned my back on it, but it wasn’t you who forced me to return. That bastard’s dead, dreams or no dreams.’ He pats my arm. ‘How are you coping?’
I want to tell him that I’m not, that I’m drowning in my responsibilities and inadequacies, and now someoneis trying to kill me as well. That when I close my eyes, dreams pound into me like the laughing waves of some gore-soaked sea.
‘I’m doing OK.’ I grin. ‘Hey, I’m head of an Australia-wide branch of an international company, and a profitable one at that.’
‘Yes, we’re living the dream,’ Tim says sardonically. He picks out
Something crunches in the undergrowth close to us. Tim and I spin towards the sound.
‘Down,’ I say, and Tim drops behind his car.
I can hear a heartbeat. It’s racing, and it’s not Tim’s. I grab the only weapon at hand, my stubby. The heartbeat is coming from behind a nearby tree. Taking a deep breath, I rush towards it and catch sight of a dim shape there, a large figure, hunched down.
There’s a flash. I hurl my stubby at the form. Beer splashes back at me. Glass shatters.
There’s no detonation of a gun firing. No bullets penetrating my thick skull. The heartbeat is gone. I scramble around the tree.
Nothing. Just a torch, its beam directed at my feet – the source of the flash, I guess. I can feel the residual warmth of a body from where it had leaned against thetree, and the slight electrical residue of a shift. It’s less than the memory of a ghost post-Pomp.
Whoever was here is good. They know how to hide their movements, even if they’re heavy on their feet.
‘It’s all right,’ I yell at Tim, holding the torch in the air.
He gets up and curses. Seems he threw himself onto his packet of cigarettes. Every single one of them is bent or broken.
‘At least you’re not drenched with beer,’ I say.
Tim grins staring at the mighty stain spreading across my trousers. ‘Are you sure that’s beer?’
I give him the most sarcastic smile I can. ‘Who the hell was that?’
‘Now,
that
could have been one of the RMs, or an Ankou. Spying on us, maybe wondering why the hell we were out here.’
‘They know how little we know then, if that’s the case.’
After another drink we’ve relaxed a little, and the beer down the front of me has evaporated. I might smell like a brewery but at least I’m dry. I’ve had two texts from Lissa, asking where I am and I’ll respond to them soon.
‘We’re going to need someone to watch your place,’ Tim says. ‘You’ll want Lissa close.’
‘What about you?’ I ask.
‘I’ll organise some security for us all.’ He straightens a cigarette.
‘Just how effective can security be if whoever is after me can shift?’
‘Look, we don’t even know if these two incidents are connected. If they were, why didn’t they just shift into your office this morning? A bit of protection is better than nothing. And trust me, the guys I’ve got in mind are
far
better than nothing. They’re prepared for this sort of thing.’
‘Really?’
‘You’re so used to dealing with this through Mortmax that you’ve forgotten that other people work to fill the gap. These guys are like this. I’ve used them before – my old department had the occasional bit of trouble.’
‘If you say they’re good enough. I trust you. I just wish –’
‘What are wishes going to get you?’ Tim asks. ‘This is happening. You are who you are, and you have to act appropriately.’
‘Sorry,’ I say.
‘For what?’
‘For bringing you into whatever the hell this is.’
Tim shakes his head. ‘Steve, you didn’t bring me into the last Schism. This is as much a part of my heritage as it is yours. I may have turned my back on it, but it wasn’t you who forced me to return. That bastard’s dead, dreams or no dreams.’ He pats my arm. ‘How are you coping?’
I want to tell him that I’m not, that I’m drowning in my responsibilities and inadequacies, and now someoneis trying to kill me as well. That when I close my eyes, dreams pound into me like the laughing waves of some gore-soaked sea.
‘I’m doing OK.’ I grin. ‘Hey, I’m head of an Australia-wide branch of an international company, and a profitable one at that.’
‘Yes, we’re living the dream,’ Tim says sardonically. He picks out
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