Chapter 5

“Your magic is happening in front of me, there’s a power within you.” The Spell, Alphabeat

Paris, February 25^th

Sophie rested her head against the window of the train, briefly, then recalled the last time she’d been on the train on the way to Paris, where all the trouble had started. Or, at least, where she’d become aware of it - Camael, of course, had been causing her problems long before that, though she’d not realised it. Thinking of Camael - or Georg or Henri - made her glance across the aisle to where Gabriel sat with Christophe, talking quietly over a colouring book as Giselle slept in her own seat opposite them. Caerys slumped in her own chair opposite, the long hours of investigation catching up to her; Sophie’s own eyes were hot and itchy, but her brain was whirring over things as she fled Le Havre once again.

As the evening fog flickered past the rain-streaked windows, Christophe gradually succumbed to the rocking motion of the carriage as well, and Gabriel tucked the blanket around him and eased his head off the table, folding the colouring book back into the boy’s backpack.

“You’re talkative today,” she observed, quietly, as he rested his head back.

“Sorry, is it keeping you awake, I was just trying to keep him occupied.”

“What was he pestering you for.”

“He wasn’t pestering ... colouring, Dinosaurs ... I don’t know enough, it would seem. He seemed convinced at least three different ones were triceratops.”

“They’re his favourites,” Sophie confirmed. “You’re good with him, thank you.”

“He’s ... they’re all nice kids, I suppose.”

“You like children? Do you think you’ll have any?” He chuckled and leant back again, closing his eyes.

“This again?”

“What?”

“You seem intent on me planning out my life with Giselle already.”

“You seem determined that it’s not going to happen.”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he admitted. “I don’t know how she’ll settle back in; I don’t know if ... I don’t know lots of things.”

“Like what you’re going to do with your life now that you have to live it?”

“Are you sure it was music you wanted to go into, and not drama?”

“That’s serious. You’ve been avoiding actually living - you’ve been trying to do something productive with it, in a way, but you’ve not had any friends, no-one to talk to. Even just being around us for this long has changed you.”

“True,” he acknowledged. “But ... Giselle coming back is something different. Or, at least, potentially, something different.”

“So, what will you do? You can’t keep doing this James Bond act.”

“I know,” he conceded, turning to stare out the window. The reflection was distorted by the rain, but she didn’t need to see his eyes to see that he was troubled by the idea. “I’m not sure what else I can do, though.”

“You said you’d earned money with some computer work, you could go back to that.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged, non-committally.

“Why not?”

“It’s ... it was a means to an end, I’m not sure that I could stomach working in an office, holding down a 9-5 job.”

“But you think you will, because she’s worth giving up the travel and the guns, the thrill...”

“I make a difference, though.” He stared at Giselle as he spoke, reaching out to brush some loose strands of hair from her face. “I do things other people either can’t or won’t, things that need to be done.”

“That’s what we all get paid for, that’s how economics works. You do something that other people need and aren’t providing and you get paid for it.”

“But if I don’t write a program there are other people out there who will. If I don’t do what I do now, who’s going to step into that gap? Who can step into that gap?”

“Police. Interpol. Bounty hunters ... are they really a thing?”

“Not so much. In the US, a few other places, but you don’t really get international bounty hunters. And the people who live in places where the authorities are the problem?”

“You learn fairly quickly as a doctor that you can’t save everyone.”

“But you don’t stop being a doctor because of that, you keep doing it and save as many as you can.”

“And sometimes you have to step away from the table and let someone else have their turn.”

“What ... what if I can’t, though?”

“Can’t why?”

“What if this is what I’m supposed to do?”

“I didn’t figure you for the religious type.”

“God?” he chuckled. “Good grief, no.”

“So, what then?”

“Camael. He ... he made me. What if ... I don’t know, what if it builds up? Or if I’m ... I don’t know, drawn to it?”

“Camael didn’t make you,” Caerys interrupted, sleepily, shuffling in her seat a little to get comfortable. “You’re as human as anyone else. He might - might - have fathered you, he might even have done that magically, but you’re as human as anyone else, your choices are your own.”

“Are...” he started to argue, but she sat up, staring at him across the aisle.

“They’re your choices. He may have set you up with Marduk, Marduk may have done that on his own. They’ve given you skills and history, but it’s your choice on how you’re going to apply those, no-one else’s.”

“Are you trying to convince him,” Giselle asked, “Or yourself?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your mother partnered with Gilgamesh because she craved magical power. Are you worried you’ll be the same?”

“Am I supposed to be devastated that my mother wasn’t perfect?” Caerys leant forward, resting her arms on the table, jolting slightly as the train turned. “I don’t know exactly what her deal with my father was, but I know she entered it willingly, and I know he killed her. I didn’t know her as well as I think I’d want, but I know she loved me. I miss her, whatever her story was.”

Giselle turned away, and Gabriel rested a placating hand on Giselle’s shoulder, getting a brief smile before she turned back towards sleep, and Caerys slipped out of her seat.

“Which way’s the buffet car?” she asked, grasping the handle on the top of the seat as the train rocked again.

“No buffet car,” Gabriel explained, “but there is a trolley, it went forward about an hour ago.”

“Does anyone want anything?”

“I’ll come with you,” he said, rising to his feet, compensating for the movement of the carriage easily. Giselle briefly eyed Caerys warily, before Gabriel turned to her. “Did you want some tea?”

“No, I’ll just try and get some more sleep.”

“OK.”

“You, Soph?” Caerys asked.

“Just water. Any coffee they have will be stale by now, and I don’t even want to think what the tea would be like.”

“OK, we’ll be back in a moment.” Sophie watched them disappear along the carriage and turned back to check on Christophe where the blanket had slipped from his shoulders.

“Do you know why she doesn’t like me?” Giselle asked, quietly, as Sophie rearranged the blanket.

“Pardonne?”

“Caerys. Do you know what it is I’ve done that she’s upset about?

“What makes you think she doesn’t like you?” Giselle just raised an eyebrow. “Well ... I don’t know.”

“I thought she was jealous, but...”

“Of ... Gabriel?”

“Not that he’s not impressive, in his way, but I don’t think that’s what she’s looking for in a relationship.”

“She doesn’t have a problem sharing the limelight with other attractive women,” she gestured in Sophie’s direction with a warm smile, “so it’s not that, even I didn’t look like this.”

“You just need a few days rest and some good food,” Sophie assured her, and as though on cue Giselle had to try to stifle a yawn. “Sleep. Whatever it is, if it’s something at all, she’ll get over it.”

“She’s changeable like that?” Sophie shrugged, not wanting to confirm or deny, and Giselle settled back against her chair, quickly rocking off to sleep with the action of the train.

When Gabriel and Caerys returned he settled down to sleep next to Giselle once more, and Caerys returned to her book as the train continued on its way through to Paris.

They changed at Gare de l’Est for a night train to Stuttgart before Gabriel bundled them all into a hire car for a few hours of Autobahn travel to get to Munich in time for another train towards Budapest. How he’d managed to secure a passport for Giselle as quickly as he had amazed her, but it didn’t appear to raise any flags and they emptied out of the car into the cold morning air in Munich.

Giselle and Gabriel sat at a table in the station cafe, talking quietly, and Sophie wheeled the trolley with her luggage and Christophe out onto the windy platform to where Caerys stood.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” she turned, bright eyed and smiling. “I like mornings like this, you can feel the breeze, the hints that you might get snow.”

“You like snow?”

“I like it snowing,” she clarified, “I don’t actually like the snow.”

“Maman, que est-ce que snow.”

“La neige, bebe.” He nodded, sagely, and turned to look where Caerys had been staring.

“No snow,” he muttered, glumly. “Just rays.”

“Rays?” Caerys asked.

“Rays ... uh... pluie?”

“Rain.”

“Your French is getting better,” Sophie smiled.

“It is,” she acknowledged, “but I can’t really start crowing when it’s not up to the standard of this little man’s English.” She ruffled Christophe’s hair, and he giggled as he pretended to fight her off. The announcement came that their train would be arriving shortly, and on cue Gabrielle and Giselle emerged. She was walking more easily, although it wasn’t clear if she was holding Gabriel’s arm so much as holding herself up with it, but they stared at each other intently, the conversation still flowing. Sophie smiled to see it and caught sight of Caerys turning away.

“She asked if I knew why you don’t like her.” she pointed out, and Caerys turned back.

“Giselle? I’ve not made up my mind about her, yet, I get the feeling she doesn’t like me much.”

“She thought you might be jealous.”

“I know, she accused me of it on the train.”

“Is she right?”

“What?” For a moment it seemed she was about to snap, but she took a breath and stepped around the trolley, pitching her voice low so it wouldn’t carry. “I know you’re not, genuinely, but it just feels like you’re looking for reasons to push me away, Soph.”

“I’m just asking. I know you’re not attracted to Gabriel, but ... I don’t know, you’ve been the one who knew things about magic, and Camael and Marduk ... and now she does as well.”

“And you think I might be jealous that she’s taking my place?”

“She was thinking jealousy, I was trying to think why that might be.”

“No, I...” She paused, brow furrowing for a moment. “No. She sets my teeth on edge, something about her just doesn’t sit right, and I can’t promise you that it’s not something subconscious and petty and spiteful, but I don’t think it’s that.”

“Ok.”

“That’s it?”

“I believe you,” Sophie assured her. “As I said, it wasn’t my idea in the first place.”

Budapest, February 26^th

Caerys eased herself down from the carriage, dropping to the gritted platform surface and flexing her toes in her boots, amused with her pleasure at being on solid ground after the interminable rocking of the train. The air was even colder, despite the bright mid-morning sun low in the sky, and Caerys hitched her pack up on her back as she stepped clear to look up and down the regal looking station. She turned a slow circle taking in the sand-coloured stonework, the main body dating from the early years of rail travel coupled with the modern display boards and advertising hoardings.

Sophie stepped down behind her, lowering her case and turning to help Christophe jump down, and further up the carriage Gabriel far more elegantly grasped Giselle around the waist and eased her to the platform, bringing a soft laugh from her as she touched down lightly. Sophie looked over at the sound and gave a slight, approving smile of her own before turning to hurry Christophe across to the trolleys. Sophie was intent on getting something to eat, and Gabriel wanted to collect the tickets for the next stage of their journey, which left Caerys to her own devices for a moment, and she made her way out the front of the station to stare up at the original facade, a testament to a grandiosity of architecture that was no longer even considered.

“Caerys, est-ce que tu vas bien?” Christophe appeared at her hip, almost walking underneath her pack.

“OK, hang on ... Go on, say it again.”

“Est-ce que tu vas bien?”

“Am I going...” his face started to change, and she backtracked. “No, not going ... am I good? Am I alright?”

“Oui.” he smiled, as Sophie caught up.

“Did you see which way Gabriel went?” Caerys pointed, distractedly.

“Je suis bien.” she smiled at Christophe.

“Je vais bien, “ Sophie corrected her, gently.

“I’m ... going to good?” Sophie just nodded, then looked down at Caerys’ arm.

“Are you sure, you’ve been scratching at that since you got off the train.” Caerys looked down herself and realised she was rubbing at her arm, yanking her sleeve back.

“Shit!”

“Caerys!”

“Sorry ... quick, come on.” She started off in the direction Gabriel had headed, scooping up Christophe on the way and depositing him on top of the trolley.

“What is it?”

“It’s ... while I was learning I picked up some new wards - this one is to detect when someone’s scrying us.” She pulled her sleeve back to show a small tattoo on the inside of her forearm.

“Qu’est-ce que scrying?” Christophe asked, and Caerys dipped her hand into her pack for her dictionary again.

“Divination.” she managed after a moment, looking up as they emerged into a more modern taxi rank area. “Oh, divination. Makes sense, I suppose...”

“Someone’s watching us?” Sophie asked, in a horrified whisper.

“Maybe,” Caerys nodded rising on her tiptoes to try to spot Gabriel, and spotting the glance Sophie threw towards Christophe whose eyes were widening. “I mean, yes, but we may not be the target - we’re in the area affected by the scrying ... or, well, it depends on what’s being done. Scrying covers quite a lot. It might just be that there’s a ward we tripped here which warns someone if a Frenchwoman crosses it...” She managed a wan smile for Sophie, hoping it was enough to calm him, and turned away to try to see Gabriel again.

“We have a problem,” his voice came from behind them, back towards the station.

“What?” Caerys looked around for Giselle.

“There are soldiers here, they’re on alert for something. I don’t think it’s us, but they’re not regular police.”

“What sort of police does Romania have?”

“We’re still in Hungary,” Gabriel reminded her, turning to look over his shoulder. Following his gaze Caerys spotted Giselle sat on a bench at the end of one of the platforms, looking out over the station.

“Ok, Hungary then.”

“They aren’t police at all,” he explained, “they’re military trained, but the accents are too varied to be Hungarian regulars. I think they’re mercenaries masquerading as police.”

“But they aren’t here for us?” Sophie asked. “So why do we have a problem?”

“They’re searching for something,” he shrugged, “and our train doesn’t leave for about three hours.”

“Why do we have to run, though?” Sophie asked.

“Maybe we don’t,” Caerys realised, “but is that a risk we want to take?”

“Are you sure that’s not just an infection from the tattooing?” Sophie asked, more in hope than expectation.

“What do we do?” Caerys asked, turning to Gabriel.

“Hire a car, get out of here now.”

“How long will that take?”

“To drive? About seven or eight hours, I’d imagine. Maybe less, I try to take the train for those sorts of distances when I can.”

“How do we do this?” Sophie asked, giving in to the idea.

“I’ll go get a car, Sophie you take Christophe over there,” he pointed to the back of the taxi-rank, “and I’ll pick you all up from there. Caerys, could you go get Giselle?”

“Sure,” she said, trying to keep the hesitation out of her tone; he gave her a second glance as though he’d picked up something of her reluctance, and she forced a smile. “Go, I can manage.”

Sophie was already bundling Christophe towards the cars, so Caerys turned towards Giselle, steeled herself with a deep breath, plastered a welcoming smile on her face and set off. It wasn’t as though she actively disliked Giselle, there was just something about her that didn’t sit right, and she obviously could tell. Maybe they were just different people, or too different upbringings? Maybe Giselle had a problem with all Americans, some of the Brits could be like that. As she approached, something about Giselle’s position on the bench was off, like she was hiding something away, and Caerys made a small gesture at her hip, dulling the sounds she was making as she approached. As she drew closer, she realised it wasn’t the stance, it was the lighting that was off, some light source tucked away beside Giselle’s far hip that she was hunched over, a phone screen perhaps. Another step closer and she felt herself tripping a ward, as Giselle’s head snapped around to look at her, the light disappearing instantly.

“Why are you sneaking up on me?” she demanded, and Caerys looked for the device that might have been creating the light.

“You have magic...” she realised, putting the ward and the glow together.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I can track the source of the ward I just tripped, if you’d...” Over Giselle’s shoulder three suited figures emerged from the ticket office, dark glasses hiding their eyes, but she could tell they were searching for something from the way their heads tracked back and forth. Two of them were unfamiliar, medium height but solidly built. The third, however, she knew too well; Hawk had been one of her father’s men, quiet and mean with a penchant for hurting people - girls especially - for fun. With the likes of Kwan and Enkidu dead he’d likely moved up in the chain of command, assuming that Kwan and Enkidu hadn’t somehow been brought back to life like her father, although the last time she’d seen him she’d presumed he was dead, stabbed through the throat. He made a few curt gestures to the others, although the three of them broke formation and drifted into the small crowd as the nearest group of the faux-police approached.

“CAERYS!” Giselle yelled at her, and everyone looked. Hawk pointed, although his two compatriots seemed to query whatever he was saying, giving her time to grab Giselle’s wrist and pull her to her feet.

“Come on, we’ve got to go.” Giselle resisted, slightly, looking over her shoulder.

“We?” she asked. “It looks like they’re after you.” Caerys looked around, seeing the three men spreading out to approach her, but also the police-dressed mercenaries looking her way. It wasn’t clear if they were together or not, and she didn’t want to risk adding to her problems by attracting their attention as well.

“Gabriel wanted you over there,” she pointed. “Can you make it, I’ll draw them away, I’ll catch up.”

Giselle eyed her for a moment, slightly confused, but looked to where Sophie and Christophe were staring their way, and nodded. “Alright.”

“Go, hurry.”

“Where’s Gabriel?”

“Getting a car, go on, move.” Caerys stepped away, moving towards the middle of the station concourse, hoping the public space would afford her some protection, even as she started to prepare a few surprises. Slipping around two of the display boards in the middle of the concourse she made sure the boards were between her and the three suited men before she wove a glamour over herself, shifting her appearance to be shorter and older, brown hair that hung shorter than her own. Stepping out from the same side of the boards she’d come in from she took a seat, looking up as though looking around, and spying Hawk instantly as he paused to look around. To his right, one of the others also slowed, stepping closer to their superior presumably for more guidance, but she couldn’t see the third anywhere.

Hawk slowed, lifting an oversized pocket-watch from his pocket, and turning slowly before pointing straight towards her.

“Damn,” she slipped out the seat, heading away from Sophie and Christophe, catching sight of the Doctor as she tried to hurriedly bundle Giselle into the back of a small minivan. “Where’s the third one gone?”

She shifted her glamour again as she passed into the information office, knowing that it was effective against the two goons even if Hawk had something that would see through it; it took her a moment to realise the information office was too quiet, and she looked up in time to catch one of the daemonettes fly towards her. A single shot punched through its head before it had crossed even half the room, and she turned to the outer door to see Gabriel shifting across the floor towards her.

“They’re tracking these, not you,” he explained, tossing her one of the oversized watches which she saw was a small scrying mirror.

“I thought you hadn’t brought a gun with you.”

“I didn’t,” he assured her, beckoning her out onto the sidewalk. “I took this from the same guy I got that from.”

“Giselle and Sophie should be loaded up by now, I saw them getting in.”

“Then let’s join them and leave these gentlemen to it.”

“My father’s people are here.” she whispered, as he paused at the corner of the building to peer around the corner.

“You’re sure?”

“I recognised Hawk.”

“Did he recognise you?”

“Maybe, I don’t know. Giselle called my name, but he might have just reacted to the noise.”

“Too late to do anything about it now,” Gabriel decided, slipping into the covered taxi-rank area. He tossed the pistol into a nearby trashcan and jogged over to the car. “You might want to drop the disguise before you get in,” he pointed out. She looked down, despite herself, but the glamour was invisible to her.

“It did work, then?” He nodded. “How did you recognise me?”

“The stride doesn’t match the image ... she’s shorter than you, whoever she is.”

“Was...” Caerys sighed, recalling Eilidh briefly, bending to check the reflection in the rear-view mirror. It was the familiar features, but moving in unfamiliar ways as it was used to try to match her own expressions and movements. The combination of the reminder and the slightly distasteful idea of misusing Eilidh’s memory, she let the image slip away, watching her own face re-emerge. She wasn’t sure if she was unwilling or unable to face the memories, but she pushed them aside as she slipped into the front seat and focused on the windows of the station sliding by outside as they pulled away.

Cluj, February 28^th

“You’re sure about this?” Gabriel asked, quietly, peering out the dirt-crusted window of the truck as they rumbled across the ridgeline looking down the opposite side of the hills from the town.

“No.” Caerys reminded him, with a shrug. “I mean, I’m sure the cards are saying this is the way we should go, but I can’t tell you why, or when, or how.” Gabriel felt his brow crease even further, and reminded himself that it wasn’t Caerys’ fault; they’d been underprepared before they left, and the plans had changed more than once since then.

“Something’s not right here,” he muttered, as much to himself, and she gave him a quick glance as though to make sure he wasn’t talking about her before nodding.

“We’re definitely at the right place though,” she confirmed, pointing towards the hills on the far side of the slight depression. “That’s definitely a military camp over there,”

“Which means Marduk.”

“Probably.”

“And we know my father’s people, at least, are in the town, even if he might not be.”

“And they’re not going to be here just by chance for something else.”

“Right.” she turned to face him, putting the unused binocular down in her lap. “So, we do this tonight?”

“You’re sure we’re under that sort of time pressure?”

“Sure? ... I know, I know ... I think so. Something in the spread is urging me - us - to hurry. Maybe my father’s people are going to find us? Maybe your fath...”

“Marduk.”

“Yeah.”

“Call him Marduk.”

“He’s not your father, any more?”

“He never was.”

“Okay.” she drew out the response, earning him a slightly amused look.

“I’m not throwing a petulant tantrum,” he assured her. “It helps me maintain a little clarity.”

“If you can keep the emotions of family out of it it’s easier?”

“Something like that.”

“Should it be that way?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I mean, I guess he probably wasn’t the best Dad in the world...”

“But it’s not like he was yours?”

“No. I mean, I guess, when you say it, maybe ... but that wasn’t my point. Or maybe it sort of is ... despite everything, despite it all ... he’s the only father you’ve got, isn’t he?”

“Unless you want to count Camael.”

“Do you? Is that it?”

“No.” he confirmed, turning off the hilltop road back towards Cluj. “I don’t need either of them.”

“You can’t just write them out of your history.”

“No, but I don’t need to keep them with me because of it, either.”

“You think I should pretend like I’m not related to mine?”

“That’s for you to decide,” he shrugged. “I’d understand, I’m not sure I’d understand if you don’t, but I don’t need to understand. It’s your life, your feelings.” She mulled on that for a moment, and he glanced at her occasionally until she turned away to look out of the window.

“He’s the only thing I’ve got.”

“Sophie, again.”

“She keeps telling me that there’s nothing there.”

“Right.”

“What should I do?”

“You’re asking me?”

“Let’s just accept that you’re the best option I have, right now.”

“Fine ... then believe her.”

“Great help.”

“Look, I don’t know the details of your background, but I’m guessing you’ve known a hell of a lot of people who didn’t take no for an answer.”

“FUCK OFF!”

“I’m not saying you’re like them,” he clarified, taking care to pick his words. “But you of all people have to appreciate how it feels to be disregarded like that.” She didn’t agree, but she did appear to be listening. “You and Sophie don’t have anything, right now. You’ll not have anything until you’re both in agreement - and that might never happen. Maybe you’re destined to have something, but from where she is ... she’s a thirty-year-old who’s just found out her former husband, the father of her son, is a creation of an infatuated freak. She doesn’t know if your interest is just because she’s the first person to have shown any sort of genuine interest in you, or because it’s just relief to be away from the situation you were in. She’s confused, and probably a little defensive.”

“What makes you such an expert?”

“Look, you asked for my opinion...”

“No, sorry, I mean ... that sort of makes sense. I just ... you’ve obviously got something right, you’ve got Giselle. How’d you work all this shit out?”

“Work what out? I ... Giselle was all Giselle’s doing, she just sort of dropped it on me. I just ... She’s important to me, so I listen to what she’s saying, try to work out what she’s not saying, and try to do things that would make her happy.”

“And that’s what you think I should be doing?”

“What you should probably be doing,” Gabriel said, turning to her as he pulled the truck up, “is working out if this is about Sophie, or about you. You might have genuinely found someone who could be something special for you, but you’ve not even worked out who you are yet, you’ve only just escaped your childhood. Are you just desperate for someone - anyone - because it’s what you’re used to, are you jumping into this because it’s different ... who do you want to be for YOU, before you start trying to decide who you want to be for someone else.”

He pointed up the street to the boarded-up shop they’d occupied. “Then you can go in where she is, and just be you. And if it’s something that would work, it will work. Don’t force it.”

The silence grew, and he leant forward a little into her eyeline as she gazed out the windscreen. Her eyes flicked to his, and she turned away slightly to look in the rear-view mirror

“What did Giselle say about what happened to her?”

“I’ve not spoken to her about it.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve only just got her back, that’s not what I want to be focusing on, I’m guessing that it’s not what she wants to be thinking about.”

“You can’t help it ... thinking about it.”

“Then, if she’s not brought it up, it’s probably because she doesn’t want me thinking about it. About her, like that. When she’s ready she’ll talk, it may not be to me.”

“Shouldn’t it be with you?”

“Why? She needs to ... get over it’s the wrong phrase, but ... she needs to find her way to getting past it, if she hasn’t already. Whether I’m the best person to help with that is ... doubtful, I guess.”