Chapter 10
Into the Blue
"Some unknown factor has precipitated this, Rolf."
"Sorry, Rector? I don't follow you."
"This is the second time that your men have followed Mr. Perry to a meeting with Sleet James. The first occasion we put down to youthful exuberance, an eagerness to impress. And it suited my purposes at the time. This second rendezvous, however, was pre-arranged. The two of them are in contact."
"Then he has betrayed our trust - told James about our operation."
"Doubtful, Rolf. He's young and rash, but he's seen how we run things. If he felt that he could have compromised himself he'd be about a thousand miles away by now and not sat in a room just down the hall. Something else is going on here - something that we are unaware of."
"Something to do with the creatures?"
"Tell me again, Rolf. How was Perry when he emerged from the cell? Did he appear changed in any way?"
"I don't know about changed. He was certainly a bit shaken, but who wouldn't be?"
"Mmmm, who wouldn't be. Do you like jigsaws, Rolf?."
"Jigsaws? I've...ah...never..."
"I enjoy a good jigsaw. What I find most interesting about them, however, is something that most people find particularly frustrating. It is the fact that you do not necessarily require all the pieces in order to visualise the complete picture. And those missing pieces, Rolf - by understanding exactly where and how they fit, you can know them intimately."
"There's nothing you can do here, Helen," Sleet had told her. "Just go where you are needed. And please, don't worry about me, okay? I'm sure everything will work out fine."
Helen had received the call from the hospital just after midday. Her Aunt, Kevin O'Mara's sister, had apparently suffered some kind of a fall - the details were unclear - and had been collected from her home, where she resided alone, by ambulance. Kevin himself was away, on the annual O'Mara's excursion to the Cheltenham Festival, where he, and the other regulars, would be settling into a three day long existence that consisted of propping up the bar in the Guinness tent, interspersed with forays to the bookies or the tote and, every once in a while, a glimpse of an actual horse.
Propping up their own bar, Sleet had convinced her that it was pointless ringing her father. It would worry him unnecessarily and there was absolutely nothing at all he could do from the other side of the country, especially considering the state that he was probably in. It would be far better if she went to the hospital herself to assess the situation and to ensure that all that could be done for her Aunt, was being done.
She had reluctantly agreed and had called a taxi for herself, but only after remonstrating with him, insistent that he not put himself in harm's way during his upcoming encounter.
"Just don't do anything stupid, okay? Or anything dangerous, 'else you'll be answering to me!"
"Yes, boss!"
And then, after a close embrace and a lingering kiss, she was gone.
The previous afternoon and evening had been spent in the unusually quiet bar. Over coffee, and then later a bottle of red, Sleet had brought her up to speed regarding the events earlier that day, his rendezvous with Perry at the cafe, his revelations and the arrangement that Sleet had made with him to meet once again.
Helen was horrified to discover that this impending encounter was to be in the presence of the Shadow creatures themselves.
"Don't go!" had been her instinctive response, "how can you? You know what they do to people."
"But not to me," Sleet had attempted to reassure her, "Perry's right. They've had the chance to finish me off on plenty of occasions. There's something else they need from me. Something that involves me being alive."
She had looked unconvinced. "Then why doesn't this Perry know anything about it? Why hasn't he told you anything more?"
"Because he's just a go-between, Helen, a means to an end. They're using him to get to me."
"And that's meant to sound like a good thing, is it? Listen to yourself, Sleet! If they're not murdering folks outright, they're brain-washing them. And you want to confront them face to face?"
"I've got no choice, Helen. You know that. This situation obviously isn't going to go away. And there's no point trying to hide from the fact, is there? The longer it goes on, the more chance there is of endangering others, like you, or your Father. There's just no way that I can have that on my conscience. I need to end it. I need to find out what the bloody hell it is they want with me."
"Then I'm coming with you," she had said with a firm resolve, her arms crossed firmly beneath her breasts in a 'we will not be moved' posture.
"Don't be bloody ridiculous! That's the last place you're going to be. I can't put you in a situation where they can use you against me, can I? Think about it!"
Eventually she had accepted his reasoning, although their exchange had resulted in an uneasy silence between them.
To change the subject, albeit only slightly, Sleet had produced the letter that the old gent outside the cafe had left for him. Helen had taken it from him and, in-between sips from her wine glass, had digested its contents. When she had finished reading it through for the second time, she had looked up at him.
"What does it mean?"
"No idea," he'd replied, "apart from the fact that whatever's going on, whatever these creatures are, they've been around for a good while. Or else, at least, they've been here before. The rest of it means nothing to me at all."
"Then are you going to destroy the letter, like it asks you to?"
"No," he'd replied, "not just yet. I think that could be premature - I've got a feeling that there must be something useful in there. Maybe not for right now, but maybe for later."
"If there is a later," Helen had mumbled.
"I tell you what," Sleet had said, choosing to pretend that he hadn't heard her, "you hang onto it for me. Put it somewhere safe. I certainly don't want it on me tomorrow."
She had taken the small piece of paper from him and had proceeded to fold it up, carefully.
"Okay," she had promised, "I'll look after it."
It had been late the following morning when his phone had emitted an unfamiliar beep. He guessed straight away what it was. The text message that Perry had promised him. He flipped the phone open and displayed the message on its screen:
7.30 tonight. pick you up at o'mara's. don't involve anyone else. you'll regret it and so will they.
Charming! he thought.
He had sauntered upstairs, where he had found Helen seated before her dressing table, a family heirloom that she had inherited from her mother, brushing the tangles out of her long dark hair.
"It's at half seven," he had said to her back, noticing how it suddenly stiffened, "He's picking me up from here."
She had swivelled round to face him, and he had seen the tears begin to well up in her eyes. She had opened her mouth to make the inevitable effort to talk him out of it, but had been cut short by the insistent ring of the telephone from the hallway below. It had been the hospital.
Through the misty rainfall, Sleet watched from the sheltering doorway of a vacant property across the street, as Perry pulled up outside the public house. He was driving one of those unremarkable little two door Japanese cars. The crunch of gears and the painstaking way in which he reversed it into a parking position suggested to Sleet that Perry was not an experienced driver, and the little runaround, most likely, did not belong to him. Probably a hire car, Sleet thought.
Sleet bided his time - took the opportunity to study the young man, during the short period of time during which he was actually in control of his own destiny, for once. Perry appeared to check his watch before glancing about, somewhat nervously, and then removed his glasses and began to wipe them with a small yellow cloth. With this task complete, he looked up and down the street once again before opening his door and stepping out of the vehicle.
Sleet withdrew further into the shadows of the doorway, eager to gain any kind of upper hand. Perry was quite obviously a nervous kind of individual, and he was keen to take advantage of that. He had no idea whatsoever whether putting Perry on edge could be beneficial, but what did he have to lose? It was about the only tactic left to him.
He watched as Perry reached the locked door to O'Mara's and, realising from the lack of lights that the establishment was not open for business, rapped several times upon one of the frosted glass panels. His hands clenched and flexed as he waited momentarily, before stepping back to the pavement edge where he could look up at the first floor windows.
Whilst Kevin was away, Helen had entrusted Sleet with her father's set of keys (she had her own with her). As soon as he had seen her off in the taxi earlier, he had proceeded to lock up - the last thing he wanted was anyone turning up with the intention of propping up the bar for what remained of the day. Ten minutes prior to the appointed time of Perry's arrival, Sleet had left the pub, locking the front door and posting the keys through the letter-box - he was sure that they were probably safer there than sat in his pocket this evening. He had then settled in across the way, and waited.
In the short space of time that Perry had been facing the front door and gazing up at the windows above, Sleet had, almost silently, skipped across the street, wove his way between parked cars and stationed himself as close to Perry's shoulder as he could without actually touching him. He leant forwards so that he would be speaking straight into Perry's right ear.
"Looking for someone?" he asked.
The desired effect was achieved, Perry swinging around frantically and, upon recognising Sleet, clutching at his breast, breathing deeply.
"What on Earth did you do that for?" he gasped.
With a tilt of his head, Sleet studied Perry and smiled quizzically, "because I could, I suppose. Didn't scare you too much, did I?"
A look of anger came over Perry, and Sleet was satisfied that he had succeeded in eliciting this emotion from him.
"Scared?" Perry shouted. Instantly conscious of his raised voice, he looked up and down the street once more to be sure that he had not drawn attention to himself. Once he was satisfied that he had not, he returned his attention to Sleet. "You don't know the half of it! I've been at my wits end, living on the edge of my nerves. The last thing I need is someone creeping up behind me and shouting 'Boo' in my ear. I thought you wanted my help?"
Sleet laughed. He saw no reason why he should go easy on the youngster. Maybe he was totally innocent of the events that they had both become wrapped up in, but he was the only outlet that Sleet had for his frustration at the moment. And, whilst he had an advantage that he was sure was soon to be curtailed, he was going to make full use of it.
"And I thought that it was you who wanted my help?" he quipped.
Perry's anger seemingly boiled away as quickly as it had manifested itself. "Let's just agree that we need to help each other, shall we?"
"If you say so," Sleet replied nonchalantly. "Where are we going, then?"
"Out of the City," Perry replied, "but don't worry, it's not too far."
"Good, because I get terribly car-sick." He glanced over at the small car, "and claustrophobic."
Perry grimaced. "I'm sure you'll survive. It's open if you want to get in."
"There's something I need to get first." In his haste to put the frighteners on Perry, Sleet had left his rucksack in the doorway across the road.
"You don't need anything, Sleet, I can assure you."
"Better safe than sorry," he answered, already darting back across the street.
It soon became obvious to Sleet that Perry's navigational skills or, at least, his knowledge of the City's layout, was no better than his driving ability. He reclined in the passenger seat, humming a little ditty to himself - or rather, to the increasing annoyance of the driver, which suited Sleet fine. He witnessed Perry's vain attempt to forge a straightforward route in a westerly direction. On several occasions Perry was flummoxed by one way systems and gyratories that had the unfortunate effect of sending them back in the direction they had come from. At other junctions he was too slow in recognising which lane they should be in and cursed vociferously as they were once more deflected from their course. Sleet offered no assistance. He was no driver himself, but he anticipated many of the turns and junctions that Perry missed, even though he had no awareness of their actual destination. On each such occasion, he had a little chuckle, or else emitted a tut-tut whilst admiring the view as they passed it by, sometimes for the second time. And he couldn't help but wince each time Perry crunched the gears.
"I'm guessing you don't drive much?" Sleet enquired eventually.
"I'm not from around here, that's all," Perry spat, "this place is a maze. How does anyone cope with it?"
"Usually, they take the tube," Sleet remarked.
Before too long, however, Perry managed to find his way onto the A40 (miraculously heading west rather than east) and it was only a matter of time before green signs turned to blue and concrete gave way to splashes of greenery as they crossed the M25 motorway and headed into the countryside.
The tables had now been turned, and the atmosphere within the car reflected this. Sleet's playful belligerence gave way to a brooding moodiness. Perry, on the other hand, had obviously gained his bearings and, with them, had seemingly attained an air of comfort, the end result of which was an extremely repetitive whistled tune. Sleet gritted his teeth and glared across at his driver. In doing so, he realised that there was no maliciousness in Perry's behaviour. What was written upon his face instead was an intense concentration. It was no longer as if he was attempting to navigate the course of their journey. Rather, it appeared as if he was being inexorably drawn towards their destination. Sleet feared that this could well be the case. He hunkered down in his seat and attempted to clear his mind. Whatever lay ahead of him, he had to be prepared for it.
They exited the Motorway at the second junction beyond London, circled the roundabout that sat upon it, and then headed out into leafy Buckinghamshire, their country road bordered on both sides by over-arcing beech trees. Beyond them lay only farm land.
"How much farther?" Sleet asked, breaking the silence that had lain between them for most of the journey.
Perry merely continued whistling the inane tune that had obviously embedded itself within his skull.
"Perry!" Sleet raised his voice, "how much farther?"
"There's no need to shout," Perry said, without turning his focused attention from the road before him. "What's the matter? Do you need the toilet?"
"No, Perry. I just want to know where we're going and when we're going to get there."
"We're going to an airfield, Sleet. It's a most suitable location, believe me. And you'll be glad to know that we're almost there."
"An airfield?" Sleet queried. "I didn't think your friends needed any assistance when it came to taking flight."
Perry chuckled to himself. "No, no, Sleet. It's disused. So there's no need to worry. We'll have the place all to ourselves."
"Oh, good," Sleet grimaced, "that makes me feel a whole lot better."
Soon afterwards they turned off the main road onto a much narrower one, and shortly after that turned once again, this time onto what was no more than a track, densely enclosed by foliage and obviously little used, evident by the fact that it had been almost taken over by grass and weeds.
They bumped along the track for only a minute or two and then passed though an open pair of rusty steel gates at the top of a slight incline. The expanse of the deserted airfield lay before them.
"This is it, then?" Sleet asked, taking in the overgrown and broken runways and a haphazard cluster of derelict hangers.
"Yes," Perry whispered, slowing the car in order to weave around a concrete barrier that at some point must have blocked further vehicular progress, but had since been pushed aside. "This is it."
"Leave it," Perry ordered, when Sleet leaned over the back of his seat to reach for his backpack, "you won't be permitted it. May as well leave it there."
They had parked up before an immense green hanger, its massive sliding door half open, revealing only a disconcerting blackness within.
Sleet released his grip on the pack. What was the point? As it was, he was walking straight into the lion's den. His meagre and rather pathetic arsenal would count for naught against even a small gathering of Shadows. He may as well walk in there looking like the lamb to the slaughter that he probably was.
They stepped out of the car and Sleet walked around the vehicle to follow Perry, who had set off in the direction of the open hanger door. As he stepped from sunlight, into the shadow cast by the immense structure, Sleet noticed that the inside of the building was not the complete blackness that he had originally thought. He could now perceive a faint blue glow from within. He could tell, however, that it did not emanate from any electric lighting - there was a shimmer to it which led him to conclude that other forces, far surpassing the mysteries of simple electricity, were at play.
Perry waited at the threshold and ushered for Sleet to precede him into the hanger. Sleet mustered a grimace but, nonetheless, stepped past Perry and entered within. There had been no going back for some time now - at least since yesterday, when he had met Perry at the cafe and committed himself to this course. And probably, if he wanted to dwell on it, for a considerable time prior to that.
Sleet waited momentarily, to allow his eyes to become accustomed to the darkness. He felt Perry at his shoulder, for once sensed no impatience from the younger man. Had he completed his mission now that the package had been delivered? Was he now waiting in hope that they would relinquish their hold upon him? You should be so lucky, Sleet thought.
He could now make out the blue shimmer some distance in front of where he stood. Between him and the source of the luminosity was a large rectangular object that Sleet could not make out. It could be a pile of regularly stacked crates or a single large container. He stepped forwards tentatively, cautious of tripping over some unseen hazard upon the hanger floor. As he rounded the large object, he reached out and felt what he assumed to be the leading edge of a twisted and mangled steel door. He proceeded around it and into clear sight of the source of the shining light.
The shimmering blueness was emanating from a vaguely circular expanse that stood in the air ahead of his current position. What surrounded or supported it or, indeed, what was creating it, was not apparent to him in the dimness that engulfed the remainder of the building.
Strangely, although the light, at its centre, was intensely bright, it appeared to lack the ability to light up the surrounding area - as if it existed for an altogether different purpose. The indefinite shadows of vaguely humanoid figures were positioned around it. At least one on the floor before it, and others to either side that were decidedly more confusing.
"Closer." Perry whispered as he placed his hand upon Sleet's shoulder, urging him forward.
Sleet shrugged him off and strode forward, seized as he now was with an urgency to confront his fate head on. To discover the intent of these monsters once and for all and, if that was what was needed to protect those he cared for, to succumb to it. He was under no misconceptions regarding the situation which he was in, and nor did he wish for any way of sidestepping what lay ahead. More than anything else, right at that very moment, he needed to know what the hell was going on.
The stark contrast between light and dark made it difficult to gauge the proportions of the shining aura before him. As he approached, it grew only steadily larger, and it was only as he quickened his pace that he realised the suitability of the hanger structure for this spectacle which had been conjured from God knew where. The figure before it also steadily grew in stature. Grew into a silhouette which was at once both expected and shocking.
That immense muscular frame, the disproportionate wings that hung flaccidly from its back, its broad shoulders and massive forearms. Instinctively, he knew that this was the Shadow Master or, at least, one of its brethren, one of the larger specimens which appeared to hold dominion over the lesser members of the species. Whether or not it was the creature he had been intimately involved with, the very one that had murdered his brother and whose scaly neck he had once held in a failing stranglehold, he could not be sure. And, right now, it mattered not. He could not think of them as individuals. As a whole, they embodied an evilness which he despised. He would not submit to them. He would sooner die. He would fight them with every last iota of his being. If his only achievable victory was to be found in denying them, in refusing to be turned to their will, then that would be victory enough.
He came to a halt at the point where he could make out the particular features of the Shadow Master, its gaping maw of a mouth from which its tongue lolled over needle sharp incisors. The creatures eyes, black as night as he knew them to be (at the moment, anyway) were invisible to him. It gargled at him from deep in its throat, before casting its head first to the left and then to the right. At first, Sleet did not comprehend the Shadow's intent but, after a prompt repeat performance, he caught on and turned to follow the direction of the creatures gaze.
To his left, and suspended some distance above the floor, a collection of figures hung in the air. Sleet stared, trying to force his eyes to focus on what hovered there. He turned about, and could make out a similar array of bodies arranged in mid-air on his right.
"Here," Perry said from behind him, "use this. Oh, and it's not ultra-violet, by the way."
Sleet reached behind him and took the torch from Perry's outreached hand. He felt for the switch, and immediately bathed the Shadow before him in a pool of bright white light - the kind of electric light that his senses accepted as logical and right. He immediately wished that he had not done so.
The Shadow Master screeched, and Sleet felt his blood run cold, realising instantly how inadequate he may be to whatever task lay ahead of him. He pointed the light down at his own feet, before turning once again and casting the light up at the collection of figures to his left.
Two of the smaller Shadows (regular sized, he corrected himself. There was nothing 'small' about any of them) were suspended in the air there, hovering gently, presumably by the power of their own will. What lay between them was altogether more familiar, because it was human in form. Sleet allowed the light of the torch to play across the face and, as he did so, he could not help but cry in horror and simultaneously fall to one knee, suddenly unsteady on his feet.
"Y..you," he struggled to find words. "You... bastards!"
"She never made it to the hospital," Perry said, conversationally. "And her Auntie, for all I know, is at home knitting socks. I doubted, for a while, that the pair of you would be so gullible. But maybe you're not as smart as my friends here give you credit for after all."
She hung limply between her two captors, supported there, even though they had no physical grasp upon her. Her face was slack, her eyes staring off into space. If Sleet was thankful for anything, it was that she was not directly experiencing what was playing out before her. What they might be projecting into her unconscious mind, however, he could not begin to guess.
"I will kill you for this, Perry." Sleet stated flatly. "If any harm comes to her..."
"That will be down to you, not me," Perry said. "But you're not seeing the full picture yet, are you?"
Sleet recollected himself, forcibly removing the torch's glare from Helen's unblinking face and swinging about to expose the other figures. Again, two shadows hovered in the air, their attention seemingly concentrated upon the slumped form suspended betwixt them.
Sleet focused the light upon the figures mesmerised face, and was dumbstruck for a second time in as many minutes as he struggled to contemplate how thoroughly they understood him, and how completely these otherworldly beasts had him exactly where they wanted him.
"Moira.." he gasped. "But..how?"
"They know you, Sleet. They have looked into you, remember. Into the deepest recesses of your soul," Perry said. "And into your brother too, of course. They know your loves and your hates. They have a very real understanding of your values and, of course, your desires. As admirably demonstrated here, I'd say."
"I was a fool to ever listen to you." Sleet said, despondently.
"No, you weren't," Perry replied. "Everything I've told you is true. You could say that all we have here is a little extra insurance and, if you like, an indication of just how desperate these beings are to secure your assistance."
Sleet regained both feet and whirled on Perry, directing the light of the torch straight into his face, causing him to flinch. The little tick at the corner of his eye appeared to be doing overtime.
"Then let's cut to the chase? I'm here aren't I? Whatever they bloody want, tell them to get it over with. But I want both of them," he pointed first to his left, then his right, "to go free, now."
The Shadow Master gurgled and stomped from side to side, drawing Sleet's attention back to it. Its tail swished ominously from side to side as if it had a mind of its own.
"He's becoming impatient, now. Be very careful," warned Perry.
"Impatient?" Sleet growled. "He's not the only bloody one. Now, what do they want."
Perry sighed. "They want you, Sleet. They want your assistance."
"Perry! Why are you being so bloody obtuse? Will you get to the point?"
"Okay, okay. They want you to step into the light."
"What, into that?" Sleet gestured towards the shimmering aura beyond the Master.
Perry nodded. "Yes, into that. But don't worry," he hastened to add, "I believe it to be perfectly safe. And I'll be accompanying you."
Sleet took a deep breath, knowing that he was prepared to do whatever it took. "What's on the other side?"
"We'll find out, won't we? Together."
Sleet turned once more to the Master. Whether it could understand him, he knew not, but he had had enough of dealing with Perry. He needed to address the organ grinder. "I'll do it," he stated, "I'll go in there. Whatever you want. But you must set the girls free, first."
Once again, the creature stomped its massive clawed feet an let out a low guttural growl. This time, however, Sleet could not miss the flash of crimson that appeared momentarily in its eyes.
"There's to be no negotiation, Sleet. They will not abide it." Perry said from behind him. "Can't you see what you have brought them to already? The machinations they have had me enact for them; the taking of hostages as bargaining chips. These are human acts, Sleet, not their generally accepted way of getting things done. But they are also desperate acts, and you have forced them into it. They want you, need you. But I need to tell you that they are at breaking point right now. This entire course of action which they have set themselves upon is hanging by a thread. Moments from now, all four of us here could be reduced to dust, blowing away on the wind.
"The ladies will be allowed to walk freely out of here," he continued, "I can assure you of that, although I obviously have no way of proving it to you. But only once you have complied. Sleet, the time is now."
Sleet turned from side to side, casting the torchlight into the faces of those he loved one final time. He received no acknowledgment from them, held in the trances that they were. And yet to see them, and to believe that a single act on his behalf could set them free, that now had to be enough for him.
"Let's go then," he stated, flatly, before striding up to and past where the Shadow Master stood, until he was face to face with the glistening blue-white unknown which encompassed whatever future remained to him.
He was vaguely aware of a further two creatures which he had previously been unable to spy, prostrate upon the floor, one to each side of him. He had the distinct impression that they were holding this phenomenon in place, and he hoped that it was draining them to do so, just like these monsters had drained the life from so many of his own kind.
He heard Perry shuffle up behind him, followed by the sound of him attempting to swallow in what had obviously become an extremely dry throat. "I'm right behind you," he managed.
Sleet laughed. "Yeah, that's what I'm really afraid of."
And, with that, he let the torch slip from his fingers, took a large, determined step forwards, and disappeared into the blue.
"Sorry, Rector? I don't follow you."
"This is the second time that your men have followed Mr. Perry to a meeting with Sleet James. The first occasion we put down to youthful exuberance, an eagerness to impress. And it suited my purposes at the time. This second rendezvous, however, was pre-arranged. The two of them are in contact."
"Then he has betrayed our trust - told James about our operation."
"Doubtful, Rolf. He's young and rash, but he's seen how we run things. If he felt that he could have compromised himself he'd be about a thousand miles away by now and not sat in a room just down the hall. Something else is going on here - something that we are unaware of."
"Something to do with the creatures?"
"Tell me again, Rolf. How was Perry when he emerged from the cell? Did he appear changed in any way?"
"I don't know about changed. He was certainly a bit shaken, but who wouldn't be?"
"Mmmm, who wouldn't be. Do you like jigsaws, Rolf?."
"Jigsaws? I've...ah...never..."
"I enjoy a good jigsaw. What I find most interesting about them, however, is something that most people find particularly frustrating. It is the fact that you do not necessarily require all the pieces in order to visualise the complete picture. And those missing pieces, Rolf - by understanding exactly where and how they fit, you can know them intimately."
"There's nothing you can do here, Helen," Sleet had told her. "Just go where you are needed. And please, don't worry about me, okay? I'm sure everything will work out fine."
Helen had received the call from the hospital just after midday. Her Aunt, Kevin O'Mara's sister, had apparently suffered some kind of a fall - the details were unclear - and had been collected from her home, where she resided alone, by ambulance. Kevin himself was away, on the annual O'Mara's excursion to the Cheltenham Festival, where he, and the other regulars, would be settling into a three day long existence that consisted of propping up the bar in the Guinness tent, interspersed with forays to the bookies or the tote and, every once in a while, a glimpse of an actual horse.
Propping up their own bar, Sleet had convinced her that it was pointless ringing her father. It would worry him unnecessarily and there was absolutely nothing at all he could do from the other side of the country, especially considering the state that he was probably in. It would be far better if she went to the hospital herself to assess the situation and to ensure that all that could be done for her Aunt, was being done.
She had reluctantly agreed and had called a taxi for herself, but only after remonstrating with him, insistent that he not put himself in harm's way during his upcoming encounter.
"Just don't do anything stupid, okay? Or anything dangerous, 'else you'll be answering to me!"
"Yes, boss!"
And then, after a close embrace and a lingering kiss, she was gone.
The previous afternoon and evening had been spent in the unusually quiet bar. Over coffee, and then later a bottle of red, Sleet had brought her up to speed regarding the events earlier that day, his rendezvous with Perry at the cafe, his revelations and the arrangement that Sleet had made with him to meet once again.
Helen was horrified to discover that this impending encounter was to be in the presence of the Shadow creatures themselves.
"Don't go!" had been her instinctive response, "how can you? You know what they do to people."
"But not to me," Sleet had attempted to reassure her, "Perry's right. They've had the chance to finish me off on plenty of occasions. There's something else they need from me. Something that involves me being alive."
She had looked unconvinced. "Then why doesn't this Perry know anything about it? Why hasn't he told you anything more?"
"Because he's just a go-between, Helen, a means to an end. They're using him to get to me."
"And that's meant to sound like a good thing, is it? Listen to yourself, Sleet! If they're not murdering folks outright, they're brain-washing them. And you want to confront them face to face?"
"I've got no choice, Helen. You know that. This situation obviously isn't going to go away. And there's no point trying to hide from the fact, is there? The longer it goes on, the more chance there is of endangering others, like you, or your Father. There's just no way that I can have that on my conscience. I need to end it. I need to find out what the bloody hell it is they want with me."
"Then I'm coming with you," she had said with a firm resolve, her arms crossed firmly beneath her breasts in a 'we will not be moved' posture.
"Don't be bloody ridiculous! That's the last place you're going to be. I can't put you in a situation where they can use you against me, can I? Think about it!"
Eventually she had accepted his reasoning, although their exchange had resulted in an uneasy silence between them.
To change the subject, albeit only slightly, Sleet had produced the letter that the old gent outside the cafe had left for him. Helen had taken it from him and, in-between sips from her wine glass, had digested its contents. When she had finished reading it through for the second time, she had looked up at him.
"What does it mean?"
"No idea," he'd replied, "apart from the fact that whatever's going on, whatever these creatures are, they've been around for a good while. Or else, at least, they've been here before. The rest of it means nothing to me at all."
"Then are you going to destroy the letter, like it asks you to?"
"No," he'd replied, "not just yet. I think that could be premature - I've got a feeling that there must be something useful in there. Maybe not for right now, but maybe for later."
"If there is a later," Helen had mumbled.
"I tell you what," Sleet had said, choosing to pretend that he hadn't heard her, "you hang onto it for me. Put it somewhere safe. I certainly don't want it on me tomorrow."
She had taken the small piece of paper from him and had proceeded to fold it up, carefully.
"Okay," she had promised, "I'll look after it."
It had been late the following morning when his phone had emitted an unfamiliar beep. He guessed straight away what it was. The text message that Perry had promised him. He flipped the phone open and displayed the message on its screen:
7.30 tonight. pick you up at o'mara's. don't involve anyone else. you'll regret it and so will they.
Charming! he thought.
He had sauntered upstairs, where he had found Helen seated before her dressing table, a family heirloom that she had inherited from her mother, brushing the tangles out of her long dark hair.
"It's at half seven," he had said to her back, noticing how it suddenly stiffened, "He's picking me up from here."
She had swivelled round to face him, and he had seen the tears begin to well up in her eyes. She had opened her mouth to make the inevitable effort to talk him out of it, but had been cut short by the insistent ring of the telephone from the hallway below. It had been the hospital.
Through the misty rainfall, Sleet watched from the sheltering doorway of a vacant property across the street, as Perry pulled up outside the public house. He was driving one of those unremarkable little two door Japanese cars. The crunch of gears and the painstaking way in which he reversed it into a parking position suggested to Sleet that Perry was not an experienced driver, and the little runaround, most likely, did not belong to him. Probably a hire car, Sleet thought.
Sleet bided his time - took the opportunity to study the young man, during the short period of time during which he was actually in control of his own destiny, for once. Perry appeared to check his watch before glancing about, somewhat nervously, and then removed his glasses and began to wipe them with a small yellow cloth. With this task complete, he looked up and down the street once again before opening his door and stepping out of the vehicle.
Sleet withdrew further into the shadows of the doorway, eager to gain any kind of upper hand. Perry was quite obviously a nervous kind of individual, and he was keen to take advantage of that. He had no idea whatsoever whether putting Perry on edge could be beneficial, but what did he have to lose? It was about the only tactic left to him.
He watched as Perry reached the locked door to O'Mara's and, realising from the lack of lights that the establishment was not open for business, rapped several times upon one of the frosted glass panels. His hands clenched and flexed as he waited momentarily, before stepping back to the pavement edge where he could look up at the first floor windows.
Whilst Kevin was away, Helen had entrusted Sleet with her father's set of keys (she had her own with her). As soon as he had seen her off in the taxi earlier, he had proceeded to lock up - the last thing he wanted was anyone turning up with the intention of propping up the bar for what remained of the day. Ten minutes prior to the appointed time of Perry's arrival, Sleet had left the pub, locking the front door and posting the keys through the letter-box - he was sure that they were probably safer there than sat in his pocket this evening. He had then settled in across the way, and waited.
In the short space of time that Perry had been facing the front door and gazing up at the windows above, Sleet had, almost silently, skipped across the street, wove his way between parked cars and stationed himself as close to Perry's shoulder as he could without actually touching him. He leant forwards so that he would be speaking straight into Perry's right ear.
"Looking for someone?" he asked.
The desired effect was achieved, Perry swinging around frantically and, upon recognising Sleet, clutching at his breast, breathing deeply.
"What on Earth did you do that for?" he gasped.
With a tilt of his head, Sleet studied Perry and smiled quizzically, "because I could, I suppose. Didn't scare you too much, did I?"
A look of anger came over Perry, and Sleet was satisfied that he had succeeded in eliciting this emotion from him.
"Scared?" Perry shouted. Instantly conscious of his raised voice, he looked up and down the street once more to be sure that he had not drawn attention to himself. Once he was satisfied that he had not, he returned his attention to Sleet. "You don't know the half of it! I've been at my wits end, living on the edge of my nerves. The last thing I need is someone creeping up behind me and shouting 'Boo' in my ear. I thought you wanted my help?"
Sleet laughed. He saw no reason why he should go easy on the youngster. Maybe he was totally innocent of the events that they had both become wrapped up in, but he was the only outlet that Sleet had for his frustration at the moment. And, whilst he had an advantage that he was sure was soon to be curtailed, he was going to make full use of it.
"And I thought that it was you who wanted my help?" he quipped.
Perry's anger seemingly boiled away as quickly as it had manifested itself. "Let's just agree that we need to help each other, shall we?"
"If you say so," Sleet replied nonchalantly. "Where are we going, then?"
"Out of the City," Perry replied, "but don't worry, it's not too far."
"Good, because I get terribly car-sick." He glanced over at the small car, "and claustrophobic."
Perry grimaced. "I'm sure you'll survive. It's open if you want to get in."
"There's something I need to get first." In his haste to put the frighteners on Perry, Sleet had left his rucksack in the doorway across the road.
"You don't need anything, Sleet, I can assure you."
"Better safe than sorry," he answered, already darting back across the street.
It soon became obvious to Sleet that Perry's navigational skills or, at least, his knowledge of the City's layout, was no better than his driving ability. He reclined in the passenger seat, humming a little ditty to himself - or rather, to the increasing annoyance of the driver, which suited Sleet fine. He witnessed Perry's vain attempt to forge a straightforward route in a westerly direction. On several occasions Perry was flummoxed by one way systems and gyratories that had the unfortunate effect of sending them back in the direction they had come from. At other junctions he was too slow in recognising which lane they should be in and cursed vociferously as they were once more deflected from their course. Sleet offered no assistance. He was no driver himself, but he anticipated many of the turns and junctions that Perry missed, even though he had no awareness of their actual destination. On each such occasion, he had a little chuckle, or else emitted a tut-tut whilst admiring the view as they passed it by, sometimes for the second time. And he couldn't help but wince each time Perry crunched the gears.
"I'm guessing you don't drive much?" Sleet enquired eventually.
"I'm not from around here, that's all," Perry spat, "this place is a maze. How does anyone cope with it?"
"Usually, they take the tube," Sleet remarked.
Before too long, however, Perry managed to find his way onto the A40 (miraculously heading west rather than east) and it was only a matter of time before green signs turned to blue and concrete gave way to splashes of greenery as they crossed the M25 motorway and headed into the countryside.
The tables had now been turned, and the atmosphere within the car reflected this. Sleet's playful belligerence gave way to a brooding moodiness. Perry, on the other hand, had obviously gained his bearings and, with them, had seemingly attained an air of comfort, the end result of which was an extremely repetitive whistled tune. Sleet gritted his teeth and glared across at his driver. In doing so, he realised that there was no maliciousness in Perry's behaviour. What was written upon his face instead was an intense concentration. It was no longer as if he was attempting to navigate the course of their journey. Rather, it appeared as if he was being inexorably drawn towards their destination. Sleet feared that this could well be the case. He hunkered down in his seat and attempted to clear his mind. Whatever lay ahead of him, he had to be prepared for it.
They exited the Motorway at the second junction beyond London, circled the roundabout that sat upon it, and then headed out into leafy Buckinghamshire, their country road bordered on both sides by over-arcing beech trees. Beyond them lay only farm land.
"How much farther?" Sleet asked, breaking the silence that had lain between them for most of the journey.
Perry merely continued whistling the inane tune that had obviously embedded itself within his skull.
"Perry!" Sleet raised his voice, "how much farther?"
"There's no need to shout," Perry said, without turning his focused attention from the road before him. "What's the matter? Do you need the toilet?"
"No, Perry. I just want to know where we're going and when we're going to get there."
"We're going to an airfield, Sleet. It's a most suitable location, believe me. And you'll be glad to know that we're almost there."
"An airfield?" Sleet queried. "I didn't think your friends needed any assistance when it came to taking flight."
Perry chuckled to himself. "No, no, Sleet. It's disused. So there's no need to worry. We'll have the place all to ourselves."
"Oh, good," Sleet grimaced, "that makes me feel a whole lot better."
Soon afterwards they turned off the main road onto a much narrower one, and shortly after that turned once again, this time onto what was no more than a track, densely enclosed by foliage and obviously little used, evident by the fact that it had been almost taken over by grass and weeds.
They bumped along the track for only a minute or two and then passed though an open pair of rusty steel gates at the top of a slight incline. The expanse of the deserted airfield lay before them.
"This is it, then?" Sleet asked, taking in the overgrown and broken runways and a haphazard cluster of derelict hangers.
"Yes," Perry whispered, slowing the car in order to weave around a concrete barrier that at some point must have blocked further vehicular progress, but had since been pushed aside. "This is it."
"Leave it," Perry ordered, when Sleet leaned over the back of his seat to reach for his backpack, "you won't be permitted it. May as well leave it there."
They had parked up before an immense green hanger, its massive sliding door half open, revealing only a disconcerting blackness within.
Sleet released his grip on the pack. What was the point? As it was, he was walking straight into the lion's den. His meagre and rather pathetic arsenal would count for naught against even a small gathering of Shadows. He may as well walk in there looking like the lamb to the slaughter that he probably was.
They stepped out of the car and Sleet walked around the vehicle to follow Perry, who had set off in the direction of the open hanger door. As he stepped from sunlight, into the shadow cast by the immense structure, Sleet noticed that the inside of the building was not the complete blackness that he had originally thought. He could now perceive a faint blue glow from within. He could tell, however, that it did not emanate from any electric lighting - there was a shimmer to it which led him to conclude that other forces, far surpassing the mysteries of simple electricity, were at play.
Perry waited at the threshold and ushered for Sleet to precede him into the hanger. Sleet mustered a grimace but, nonetheless, stepped past Perry and entered within. There had been no going back for some time now - at least since yesterday, when he had met Perry at the cafe and committed himself to this course. And probably, if he wanted to dwell on it, for a considerable time prior to that.
Sleet waited momentarily, to allow his eyes to become accustomed to the darkness. He felt Perry at his shoulder, for once sensed no impatience from the younger man. Had he completed his mission now that the package had been delivered? Was he now waiting in hope that they would relinquish their hold upon him? You should be so lucky, Sleet thought.
He could now make out the blue shimmer some distance in front of where he stood. Between him and the source of the luminosity was a large rectangular object that Sleet could not make out. It could be a pile of regularly stacked crates or a single large container. He stepped forwards tentatively, cautious of tripping over some unseen hazard upon the hanger floor. As he rounded the large object, he reached out and felt what he assumed to be the leading edge of a twisted and mangled steel door. He proceeded around it and into clear sight of the source of the shining light.
The shimmering blueness was emanating from a vaguely circular expanse that stood in the air ahead of his current position. What surrounded or supported it or, indeed, what was creating it, was not apparent to him in the dimness that engulfed the remainder of the building.
Strangely, although the light, at its centre, was intensely bright, it appeared to lack the ability to light up the surrounding area - as if it existed for an altogether different purpose. The indefinite shadows of vaguely humanoid figures were positioned around it. At least one on the floor before it, and others to either side that were decidedly more confusing.
"Closer." Perry whispered as he placed his hand upon Sleet's shoulder, urging him forward.
Sleet shrugged him off and strode forward, seized as he now was with an urgency to confront his fate head on. To discover the intent of these monsters once and for all and, if that was what was needed to protect those he cared for, to succumb to it. He was under no misconceptions regarding the situation which he was in, and nor did he wish for any way of sidestepping what lay ahead. More than anything else, right at that very moment, he needed to know what the hell was going on.
The stark contrast between light and dark made it difficult to gauge the proportions of the shining aura before him. As he approached, it grew only steadily larger, and it was only as he quickened his pace that he realised the suitability of the hanger structure for this spectacle which had been conjured from God knew where. The figure before it also steadily grew in stature. Grew into a silhouette which was at once both expected and shocking.
That immense muscular frame, the disproportionate wings that hung flaccidly from its back, its broad shoulders and massive forearms. Instinctively, he knew that this was the Shadow Master or, at least, one of its brethren, one of the larger specimens which appeared to hold dominion over the lesser members of the species. Whether or not it was the creature he had been intimately involved with, the very one that had murdered his brother and whose scaly neck he had once held in a failing stranglehold, he could not be sure. And, right now, it mattered not. He could not think of them as individuals. As a whole, they embodied an evilness which he despised. He would not submit to them. He would sooner die. He would fight them with every last iota of his being. If his only achievable victory was to be found in denying them, in refusing to be turned to their will, then that would be victory enough.
He came to a halt at the point where he could make out the particular features of the Shadow Master, its gaping maw of a mouth from which its tongue lolled over needle sharp incisors. The creatures eyes, black as night as he knew them to be (at the moment, anyway) were invisible to him. It gargled at him from deep in its throat, before casting its head first to the left and then to the right. At first, Sleet did not comprehend the Shadow's intent but, after a prompt repeat performance, he caught on and turned to follow the direction of the creatures gaze.
To his left, and suspended some distance above the floor, a collection of figures hung in the air. Sleet stared, trying to force his eyes to focus on what hovered there. He turned about, and could make out a similar array of bodies arranged in mid-air on his right.
"Here," Perry said from behind him, "use this. Oh, and it's not ultra-violet, by the way."
Sleet reached behind him and took the torch from Perry's outreached hand. He felt for the switch, and immediately bathed the Shadow before him in a pool of bright white light - the kind of electric light that his senses accepted as logical and right. He immediately wished that he had not done so.
The Shadow Master screeched, and Sleet felt his blood run cold, realising instantly how inadequate he may be to whatever task lay ahead of him. He pointed the light down at his own feet, before turning once again and casting the light up at the collection of figures to his left.
Two of the smaller Shadows (regular sized, he corrected himself. There was nothing 'small' about any of them) were suspended in the air there, hovering gently, presumably by the power of their own will. What lay between them was altogether more familiar, because it was human in form. Sleet allowed the light of the torch to play across the face and, as he did so, he could not help but cry in horror and simultaneously fall to one knee, suddenly unsteady on his feet.
"Y..you," he struggled to find words. "You... bastards!"
"She never made it to the hospital," Perry said, conversationally. "And her Auntie, for all I know, is at home knitting socks. I doubted, for a while, that the pair of you would be so gullible. But maybe you're not as smart as my friends here give you credit for after all."
She hung limply between her two captors, supported there, even though they had no physical grasp upon her. Her face was slack, her eyes staring off into space. If Sleet was thankful for anything, it was that she was not directly experiencing what was playing out before her. What they might be projecting into her unconscious mind, however, he could not begin to guess.
"I will kill you for this, Perry." Sleet stated flatly. "If any harm comes to her..."
"That will be down to you, not me," Perry said. "But you're not seeing the full picture yet, are you?"
Sleet recollected himself, forcibly removing the torch's glare from Helen's unblinking face and swinging about to expose the other figures. Again, two shadows hovered in the air, their attention seemingly concentrated upon the slumped form suspended betwixt them.
Sleet focused the light upon the figures mesmerised face, and was dumbstruck for a second time in as many minutes as he struggled to contemplate how thoroughly they understood him, and how completely these otherworldly beasts had him exactly where they wanted him.
"Moira.." he gasped. "But..how?"
"They know you, Sleet. They have looked into you, remember. Into the deepest recesses of your soul," Perry said. "And into your brother too, of course. They know your loves and your hates. They have a very real understanding of your values and, of course, your desires. As admirably demonstrated here, I'd say."
"I was a fool to ever listen to you." Sleet said, despondently.
"No, you weren't," Perry replied. "Everything I've told you is true. You could say that all we have here is a little extra insurance and, if you like, an indication of just how desperate these beings are to secure your assistance."
Sleet regained both feet and whirled on Perry, directing the light of the torch straight into his face, causing him to flinch. The little tick at the corner of his eye appeared to be doing overtime.
"Then let's cut to the chase? I'm here aren't I? Whatever they bloody want, tell them to get it over with. But I want both of them," he pointed first to his left, then his right, "to go free, now."
The Shadow Master gurgled and stomped from side to side, drawing Sleet's attention back to it. Its tail swished ominously from side to side as if it had a mind of its own.
"He's becoming impatient, now. Be very careful," warned Perry.
"Impatient?" Sleet growled. "He's not the only bloody one. Now, what do they want."
Perry sighed. "They want you, Sleet. They want your assistance."
"Perry! Why are you being so bloody obtuse? Will you get to the point?"
"Okay, okay. They want you to step into the light."
"What, into that?" Sleet gestured towards the shimmering aura beyond the Master.
Perry nodded. "Yes, into that. But don't worry," he hastened to add, "I believe it to be perfectly safe. And I'll be accompanying you."
Sleet took a deep breath, knowing that he was prepared to do whatever it took. "What's on the other side?"
"We'll find out, won't we? Together."
Sleet turned once more to the Master. Whether it could understand him, he knew not, but he had had enough of dealing with Perry. He needed to address the organ grinder. "I'll do it," he stated, "I'll go in there. Whatever you want. But you must set the girls free, first."
Once again, the creature stomped its massive clawed feet an let out a low guttural growl. This time, however, Sleet could not miss the flash of crimson that appeared momentarily in its eyes.
"There's to be no negotiation, Sleet. They will not abide it." Perry said from behind him. "Can't you see what you have brought them to already? The machinations they have had me enact for them; the taking of hostages as bargaining chips. These are human acts, Sleet, not their generally accepted way of getting things done. But they are also desperate acts, and you have forced them into it. They want you, need you. But I need to tell you that they are at breaking point right now. This entire course of action which they have set themselves upon is hanging by a thread. Moments from now, all four of us here could be reduced to dust, blowing away on the wind.
"The ladies will be allowed to walk freely out of here," he continued, "I can assure you of that, although I obviously have no way of proving it to you. But only once you have complied. Sleet, the time is now."
Sleet turned from side to side, casting the torchlight into the faces of those he loved one final time. He received no acknowledgment from them, held in the trances that they were. And yet to see them, and to believe that a single act on his behalf could set them free, that now had to be enough for him.
"Let's go then," he stated, flatly, before striding up to and past where the Shadow Master stood, until he was face to face with the glistening blue-white unknown which encompassed whatever future remained to him.
He was vaguely aware of a further two creatures which he had previously been unable to spy, prostrate upon the floor, one to each side of him. He had the distinct impression that they were holding this phenomenon in place, and he hoped that it was draining them to do so, just like these monsters had drained the life from so many of his own kind.
He heard Perry shuffle up behind him, followed by the sound of him attempting to swallow in what had obviously become an extremely dry throat. "I'm right behind you," he managed.
Sleet laughed. "Yeah, that's what I'm really afraid of."
And, with that, he let the torch slip from his fingers, took a large, determined step forwards, and disappeared into the blue.