Chapter 9

We gonna go home now
Let's go!
Glory Days, Bruce Springsteen

Sutton, Surrey, November 28^th

Gabriel lay staring at the ceiling, the chair reclined as far as it would go, wondering exactly when it was he'd started thinking of himself as Gabriel again. Perhaps he'd been Gavin for a little longer than was usual, certainly under more intense scrutiny than was usual. People looked, people probed gently, but it was all superficial.

"Why did you tell them, Charisma?" he enquired, quietly, eyes still fixed on the first signs of damp on the plaster of the ceiling.

"Sophie's medical opinion was that you need to come to terms with the loss of Giselle."

"If you'd not told her," he countered, "she'd have not known about Giselle." He finally dragged his eyes away from the ceiling and pushed himself to his feet, headed for the kitchen.

"It is apparent that your behaviour is atypical for a man of your age and apparent status." Charisma pointed out. "The details might assist in a treatment, the condition was quite accurately diagnosed — the term 'misanthrope' was used."

"Very psychobabble." He sneered, coming to a halt at the kitchen door, as he found Sophie and Caerys already seated. Both of them stared at him over steaming cups, almost identical smirks greeting his entrance.

It came down, ultimately, to the pair of them. He hadn't created persona to stand up to this sort of close contact. Every time he finished a mission he learnt something new — this would be it for this time.

"You don't see it?" Caerys asked, quietly. "You think this is normal?"

"Who wants to be normal?" he countered, heading for the fridge.

"Is this what passes for conversation for you, Gabriel?" Sophie put in, turning to follow him as he walked. "You and the computer?"

"Why not?" he barely felt tight across the faint scar at his hip as he bent down to the cold cabinet. "She's as good a conversationalist as most, better than many."

"It's not good for you." Her voice softened as he straightened, and he turned to face her. "You should... you should have talked about this with someone, many people."

"I should be over Giselle?" he turned, briefly, to Caerys who nodded her agreement. "I should talk to someone, and it'll all be better, right?" His tone drew Caerys up short, but Sophie wasn't backing down.

"Not just like that, but..."

"No, you're right." He cut her off. "Your marriage broke down, for whatever reason. I'm sorry for you, I really am." He turned to Caerys. "You've never had the opportunity for a real relationship, I hope you do." He paused to place the food on the counter and turned back to face them both. "Giselle is gone, and she's not coming back. Talking about it can't change that, being sorry can't change that, wishing it were otherwise can't change that. She's gone. There was never anyone else that could make me feel like she did, and I don't need to pretend like what she gave me wasn't special by going out and expecting to find it in someone else, alright. I'm content with my life. I make other people's lives just a little better, when I can. You find me a dozen people that can say that, right now — you two sure as hell can't."

He waited several seconds, nodded at their silence, and turned to the grill. "Poached eggs or omelette?"

"Omelette, please." Caerys finally managed, shaking her head slightly. The look she shared with Sophie showed they both thought they'd come further than that the previous evening.

"So what do we do now?" Sophie asked, quietly. "How do we get 'content'?"

"Well..." he spoke quietly, slowly, attention fixed on the cooking, "first of all we have to get the pair of you away from here and somewhere safe. I know a little of Caerys' father, I can try and cause him some trouble elsewhere and draw his attention away. I need to know more about this Paris military operation, though."

"Have you found anything on the computers?" Caerys asked.

"No, nothing." He shook his head, chopping spring onions with a practiced hand. "Which is strange in itself — even the most secret of projects usually has a mundane cover story to explain personnel and materiel movements."

"And your suggestion?"

"I think... I think you need some sort of official help." He turned to face them both. "Neither of you are in the country legally, and whatever problems you are facing involve some considerable financial and organisational institutions. I think, later today... I think we should go and see my father."

Portsdown Hill, Hampshire, November 28^th

"I'm still not sure about this." Caerys observed, staring down from the little car-park at the military town spread out below them. Ferries moved slowly back and forth across the harbour, well in front of the line of steel grey military vessels at the dockyard, waiting under the glistening pinnacle of the curved tower looking down upon it all. "Are you sure this is the right thing to do?"

"No." Gavin admitted, after a moment's thought. "But the odds favour it as a good move. My father's connected in the military, and should be able to find out what's happening in Paris. He'll be able to get you directly to some security service personnel, which should bypass any military channels that would cause you problems, and — given the scope of your father's activities — there'll be plenty of officials willing to give you a hand in return for information."

"And you?" Sophie asked, pushing her hair back out of her eyes in the strong wind. "What will your father say to you?"

"Nothing, at least at first." He didn't quite meet her eyes, staring back towards the low, squat, red-brick fort hunkered down atop the hill's crest. "Later he'll talk to me, when the important things are out of the way."

"The important things? Like 'son, why did you fake your own death?' or 'hey, kid, haven't seen you in about six years or so, what's up?'" Caerys shook her head in bewilderment.

"Unimportant." Gavin turned to look at her. "He'll understand I must have had reasons, he'll want to know what they were, but there'll be more important things to deal with in the short term."

"You're unbelievable."

"Is this going to cause any trouble for you?" Sophie asked, quietly. "Going home, I mean?"

"Trouble, no. It's not going to be comfortable, but... I don't have the resources to deal with this one on my own." He shrugged, but neither of them was convinced by the nonchalance into believing that confession hadn't cost something for him.

"You don't have to do this for us... if your father is the man you think he is, won't he just help us anyway?"

"Perhaps." He nodded. "Perhaps not. He's also reasonably wealthy in his own right, he's not given to just accepting anyone who wanders into his home... and then you'd have to explain to him why you chose to visit him, he'd not be top of many people's lists."

"We could keep you out of it." Caerys assured him, and he smiled.

"I don't think you could — I've had a great deal of experience at hiding who I am, and I wasn't trying to tell half the story and keep the other half secret, and I didn't have to co-ordinate what I was saying with someone else, and I still couldn't keep the truth from the pair of you... it's not a slight on you, but I don't believe you could keep my involvement secret and still get his help."

"At least you wouldn't have to face him." Sophie offered. "He doesn't sound particularly... hospitable."

"I won't leave you to face that when I won't myself." He almost sounded offended. "It's... courage isn't something I've ever lacked."

"Courage of a sort." Sophie muttered, and he turned to look at her. "You'll face physical dangers, death even, without so much as a thought — death doesn't hold any fear for you, you're actively courting it, you're looking for a way out. You won't face up to loss, though."

"I figure you're not used to losing, much." Caerys added with a shrug.

"No, probably not." He admitted. "I... when I was young the competition that was put before was always beatable — not easy, but within my grasp. I learnt to beat what was put in front of me, I was forced to grow to keep doing it."

"But not taught how to deal with failure."

"I don't fail."

"What about how to deal with loss?" Sophie asked, and watched as his face clouded over, slightly.

"How is anyone taught to deal with loss? You face it, like anything else, and you find a way to carry on, or you don't."

"And this is your way?"

"So far."

"Don't you want anything more than this?" Sophie stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the fort. "What do you want to do?"

"Nothing." He looked up. "I don't really want anything, I just get on and do it."

"Easier not to look forward in case you look back too?" Caerys asked, wrapping her arms around herself against the wind. "You've got to have some dreams, don't you? Why do you go out and do all that retribution shit if you don't actually want anything?"

"He's still trying to atone." Sophie offered, when all he did was shrug. "He's stuck in trying to fight back. Have you heard of the stages of loss?" Gavin snorted, derisively, while Caerys just looked blank.

"Denial, Bargaining, Anger and Despair," Sophie directed her comments to Caerys, but none of them were under any illusions who she intended the words for.

"He withdraws from everyday life so as to avoid the reminders of what he's lost, so he can deny the impact it had on him. He then goes on this little personal crusade of his to try and 'earn' Giselle back, or atone for whatever he did that took her away — that's bargaining, and he fuels that with the anger he represses over the loss. And he can't look forward, can't see a way out of the life he's built, can't imagine moving on without her, which is despair."

She turned to stare at Gavin as she finished, and it was he that turned away first.

"That's what I felt from you yesterday, in the cottage." Caerys pointed out, quietly. "That last bit, the... Lost. Stuck somewhere with no idea how to go forward. Shown the way somewhere, but unable to find it on his own..."

"Psychology?" Gavin turned back to face them. "That's almost as dark an art as Caerys' magic... can we go now?"

Portsmouth, Hampshire, November 28^th

The motorway was slick with the early afternoon rain as they drove in silence along the waterside, between a landfill and a dumping ground for old submarines, highlighted by a roadside abstract sculpture that drew attention to the large marine salvage yard that looked to be abandoned, and a greyhound racing track that looked like it needed to be. Curving round the edge of the peninsula Caerys attention was drawn by the bulky ferries manoeuvring upstream of their jetties, and suddenly the motorway ended in a flurry of square office-blocks and a large roundabout.

"Where do we go from here?" Sophie sat up a little, staring along the pedestrianised main street as they moved along in the flow of slow traffic.

"There's a few naval bases around here," Gavin pointed out, as they drove. "HMS Nelson, there, is mainly accommodation, and further down the road you get HMS Excellent, which is the working end of the dockyard, but we'll head down to the waterfront. There's a public access there where you can get in to look at HMS Victory and HMS Warrior, and what's left of Henry VIII's Mary Rose. From there I should be able to get hold of my father without causing too much fuss."

"You a tour guide, now?" Caerys asked, leaning forward, as the jutting masts of the two historic ships came in to view above the high, brick wall.

"I grew up here." He pointed out. "My father took me round both ships when I was young, and the submarine museum across the water in Gosport." He pointed over the harbour to where the urban sprawl continued. "I remember watching them bringing the Mary Rose up from the harbour bed as a kid."

"In the harbour?" Caerys stared into the oily grey waters for a moment as the car moved along the harbour front to the little ferry terminal and rail station. "Did they crash or something?"

"No, the French were trying to invade the Isle of Wight over there in the 1540's. Their first flagship burnt as they left, and the second ran aground, but they made it here eventually."

"Sorry, didn't mean to insult your navy." She smiled at his tone, and he turned to look at her as he stopped the car.

"Our Navy's pretty good, but it's not perfect. Before my time, but the HMS Vanguard ran aground in the harbour when they were towing it away to have it broken up. Almost ran into the Still and West — that's a pub — and the Customs Jetty down there at the point. There used to be a chain-ferry across the harbour, it ran into the chain for that, too." He waited until they were out of the car, and pointed back the way they'd come.

"I thought you'd be a little more defensive." Caerys offered, as they started to walk.

"About the Skates? Marines are technically part of the Navy, but... Skates, Squids and Wafu's are a completely different breed."

"Skates? Wafu's?" Sophie asked.

"Sailors are skates, submariners are squids." He explained. "Wafu's are — were — the Fleet Air Arm, naval airmen. They've just about disbanded the Wafu's now, made the RAF responsible. They all call us Bootnecks."

"You're talking differently." Sophie pointed out, as he led them back towards the large sign advertising 'Historic Dockyard'.

"Differently?"

"You are." Caerys confirmed. "You've lightened up a lot, you're... I don't know, it's like you feel different, I guess."

"This is about as close to home as I get." He shrugged, paying their entry at the arched gate. "I was barracked at the other end of town in Eastney, but... Portsmouth was where I grew up."

"I didn't really get to leave home, much." Caerys observed. "It's not somewhere I want to go back to."

"I liked where I grew up." Sophie decided, as they turned to look at her. "But I've moved past that, now, I have a new ho... had a new home. Do you think I'll ever be able to go back?"

"I don't know." Gavin admitted, with a sympathetic shrug. "It's... with the military involved, there's a good chance your government's tied in with it... I'm sorry, but there's a good chance you'll have to start over, go somewhere else."

"Hey, maybe you'll be able to give up medicine and become a musician." Caerys nudged her with a hip, getting a slight smile in return.

"Wait here." Gavin muttered to them, as they drew up beside a souvenir stand laden with postcards and he headed over towards a pair of nearby sailors.

"Do you think he's just nervous about seeing his dad?" Caerys asked, as the pair watched him cross the sparsely populated thoroughfare.

"I don't know." Sophie admitted. "He's... if it were anyone else I'd say it'd be difficult, but I don't think he's really thinking about it. He's still trying to be Gavin at the moment... but I think Gabriel's showing through... are you alright?" Caerys was turning back and forth, staring around as though looking for something.

"I can... I can feel something. Someone's waiting... they're not expecting us... I don't know, it's a weird feeling."

"Calm down, Caerys." Gavin reappeared at their side suddenly, making Sophie jump with tension she didn't realise Caerys' words had built up. "You're drawing attention."

"She thinks someone's already watching." Sophie explained, but Caerys laid a hand on her arm.

"They're not watching... but we're going to meet... it's one of them."

"One of who?" Gavin asked, pitching his voice low.

"One of the Daemons."

Fareham, Hampshire, November 28^th

"What did you say to get an appointment this quickly?" Sophie asked, as the car pulled away from the harbour, following their route back through the city, past the steel and glass tower looming over the gleaming shopping area looking over the marina.

"I asked someone to tell him Giselle d'Antonio was looking for him."

"Giselle?" Sophie asked. "As in..." he nodded, keeping his eyes on the road.

"I couldn't very well use your real names, could I?"

"I... probably not." She acknowledged. "Why Giselle?"

"He'd recognise the name, know it was someone he knew, but that wanted to be subtle."

"So where are we going now?"

"My father's home, he's moved out of the city."

"I don't like this." Caerys interrupted, obviously edgy. "Someone's out there, I can feel them."

"Are you sure?" Gavin half-turned to look at her.

"You believe me?" Surprise shook her from her nervousness for a moment. "I thought you didn't be..."

"I don't think you're seeing like that." He admitted. "But you've demonstrated an ability to process subconscious clues into a reasonably accurate assessment before, it'd be unwise to discount that out of hand." Caerys' mouth opened a closed a few times as she tried to decide whether to argue or be satisfied, and Gavin slewed the car round onto the motorway.

"Where is this house?" Sophie asked, as the conversation lapsed.

"It's only a few miles away. Portsmouth's a bit inaccessible at times, so he's moved to Fareham, it's at the base of the hill we were on earlier."

"And..." Caerys shook her head, like she was trying to clear her ears of water, and looked back up again. "Someone's waiting, for us." She said, with an air of certainty. "There's a big junction over a highway, signs for... Boarhunt. Someone's waiting there." Pulling off the motorway, Gavin frowned to himself, and both Sophie and Caerys saw the signs they past that advertised the road led to Boarhunt.

"Sophie, get ready to drive." He muttered, quietly, and heard Caerys sigh in relief in the back. Turning off the roundabout, he swerved suddenly as large bin lorry emerged from a side-road and slewed the car around into a turn-off instead of heading up the main road as it curved.

"What are you doing?" Sophie asked, with a squeal, as he stamped on the break.

"Going to talk to the lorry driver." He pointed behind them. "He's neatly blocked the road, you'll see... That's to keep us in."

Caerys and Sophie both turned to watch out the back window as he cut to the right of the car, through the long grass along the side of the road, and straight up to the back of the lorry, springing lightly first onto the tail, and then to the roof.

He paused, there, and they waited a moment until a figure emerged from the cab of the truck, looking up the ascending road with a pair of binoculars.

Shaking his head, the driver muttered something into a mobile phone, and then collapsed as Gavin dropped feet first onto the top of his head, driving him to the floor.

Two shots rang out, and Gavin rolled away from the truck, heading towards the car where he skidded to a halt.

"Up the road, first left past the little monument to Nelson, and the first right takes you into the drive. Caerys, your father's people have the place under watch..." He held up the mobile, where the familiar voice of her father could be heard shouting something.

Sophie slipped into the driving seat, hands shaking slightly as Gavin reiterated her instructions.

"Where are you going?" she suddenly cut him off, realising he wasn't following.

"Someone's shooting at us — at you, probably — I'm going to get them. I'll follow you in."

"What if..."

"No time." He cut her off. "Whatever else happens, my father's not going to have you shot for turning up on his door, not when he's expecting someone." He pointed out, slamming the door and heading away to their left, into what appeared to be farm fields.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Caerys scurried over from the back seat as Sophie turned the car in the tight little dead-end road. "Not when he's expecting someone... does he shoot people normally? I didn't think they had guns in England?"

"With people shooting outside?" Sophie squealed, jerking the wheel slightly as another gunshot sounded, and accelerated up the hill. "Where did he say to go?"

"Left." Caerys pointed out of her window at the small statue rapidly approaching on the left.

"There's no road!"

"There is, there." Stamping on the brakes, Sophie watched Caerys slide off the chair into the dashboard with a whoosh of breath leaving her body

"Are you alright?" Sophie yelled, reversing a few yards and turning the car into the narrow lane.

"Don't shout." Caerys wheezed, buckling herself back into the seat. "I'm fine... just winded..." Forcing herself to sit upright, she kept an eye out for the entrance, and pointed it out as they approached in time for Sophie to make the turn, scraping the wing of the car along the heavy brickwork of the gatepost.

Gravel sprayed from the tires as she wildly jabbed her foot down on the accelerator, and the car slewed sideways a little on the angled drive, but she managed to head in the direction of the low, sprawling house tucked back between the hills — hills, Caerys saw, surmounted by men in military uniforms with guns.

More of those figures waited clustered around the ornamental statue in the middle of the rounded end to the drive in front of the pillared entrance portico.

"Out!" the nearest barked, a faceless individual behind a rounded helmet and the business end of a rifle, and the pair of them slid out the car slowly.

"The Admiral's expecting..." Caerys began, and paused suddenly, turning pale. "Oh fuck."

"What?" Sophie whispered, making to shuffle a little closer, and freezing when a gun tracked on to her.

"Ladies..." a voice called from behind them, and they both turned slowly, recognising the figure before them. For Caerys it was the brief recall of the military figure that had tried to hijack her sacrifice back in Paris, but Sophie remembered him rather as Georg's superior.

"Where's Gabriel's father?" Caerys demanded. Determined not to crumble again, she stared at him, and was surprised to see the shock that passed across his face.

"Gabriel... I see."

"Shit!" She swore, and Sophie ignored the gun this time, shuffling closer again.

"What's going on? Where's Gabriel's father, what have they done with him?"

"He's not done anything to him." Caerys explained, quietly. "That is Gabriel's dad."

Fareham, Hampshire, November 28^th

Gabriel moved through the waist high rape-seed in a half-crouch, barely making a noise in the gently rustling stems, approaching the first look-out point. Slowing to a crawl he trekked round to the side of the slight hill that was away from the road, knowing the shooter would be nearer the trail, and headed over the crest. Keeping below the level of the plants he avoided silhouetting himself against the skyline as he ghosted the final few yards to his target.

"I don't know how they got through!" the gunman hissed into his mobile phone with more than a hint of irritation. "It's like they knew we were here already."

"We did." Gabriel confirmed for him, and lunged the short-bladed knife through his throat as he turned, taking the mobile phone from his limp hand as he collapsed backwards.

"Hawk?" came the insistent — familiar — voice from the device.

"Hawk?" Gabriel mocked. "Seriously, Mr Michaelson, Hawk? Do you employ anyone with more than one name?"

"You."

"Yes, Mr Michaelson." He scanned the horizon, slowly, before jogging gently down the back slope of the hill again to clear the area, sure they would co-ordinating on Hawk's position. "I have a simple message for you — stop chasing me. Stop following your daughter or her friend, and prepare. I'll be coming for you soon." The connection went dead, and he tossed the phone away into the crop, scowling to himself slightly.

What am I thinking? He wondered, pausing as he approached the narrow road. You don't warn the target, you don't tell them you're coming... fucking showboating? The scowl deepened as he continued to berate his lack of control, knowing for sure that he'd let Caerys and Sophie under his skin from the reaction.

He paused, pressing himself flat against the thick hedgerow bordering the road, waiting for his senses to catch up with the danger his instincts told him was there. The road was clear, the field opposite showed nothing, and he edged back towards the direction he'd come from, catching movement from the corner of his eye.

What he saw, perched atop the brickwork of his father's wall, was the distorted, distended, figure of a parody of a man, head stretching back from a deep-set neck amidst bulky shoulders. The stunted, pig-like nose ruffled once, twice and then it launched down into the crop like a stooping bird of prey, a brief squealing, screaming tussle and then it slowly, laboriously hauled its way back up the wall.

Footsteps neared, from the road, and he hunkered down as a uniformed, three-man unit trudged past in a practiced move and cover formation, advancing on the scene of the struggle. Ghosting in behind them he followed at a safe distance until he saw the mutilated remains in the midst o the trampled space in the tall plants.

It took a moment to mentally reassemble the remains, but the gnarled, twisted, over-muscled form of Michaelson's 'half-trolls' was easily recognisable. He looked up again, puzzling, but soon recognised the silhouette on the wall from the struggle in Sutton, the cluster of odd figures that had lurked outside the doors as they'd chased Caerys. The ones Sophie had seen in the tank in Paris. The military, in his father's house.

"Maybe I came back just in time?" he half-muttered, but couldn't help the slight shudder that ran down his spine. It wasn't fear, as such, that was common-place in a way this wasn't. It was, he knew, the fact that Sophie and Caerys were already in there. Then he had to dive away as his mutter brought the diving guardian monstrosity his way.

Fareham, Hampshire, November 28^th

Caerys didn't even struggle against the bindings, knowing the futility of trying to escape the ropes in the time she no doubt had left.

"It's a shame we don't have an altar here, you know." Lilith smirked, shoving her forward for no other reason than she could. "It means Marduk can't sacrifice you right now, and he thinks you're too dangerous to leave alive." Caerys shuddered, a little.

"You don't sound too upset." She managed, after a moment, looking about the narrow corridor for something sharp she might cut her bindings on.

"Well, every cloud has a silver lining..." Lilith smirked. "If he can't take your blood it at least gives me the chance to make use of you. You have a talent, Seer, and I want it."

"You can't do that, no-one can do that." Caerys scoffed. "My father would have done it years ago if it were possible."

"No-one can do what I can do." Lilith confirmed grabbing her by the hair and pinning her against the wall. "Watch..." Drawing one long nail down Caerys neck she drew blood, and quickly scrawled a symbol on her blouse. For Caerys, everything went dark. "You see, even your real eyes are just a manifestation of your power... once I deny you that power, you can't see at all." She shoved Caerys forward, where she immediately fell over a step she didn't see. "Oh, stairs, by the way..." she laughed, and Caerys slowly got back to her feet.

"Do you really think Marduk will let you keep the power?" she quivered, knowing the fear showed in her voice and hating herself for it.

"Marduk won't be able to take it from me." Lilith snarled at her back, recognising the weak ploy for what it was. "Marduk needs the blood of the Seer's line, not the power. Neither of my parents was a seer. Turn left." Caerys pivoted slowly, and stepped into a wall.

"Oh, did I say left?" Lilith's grating laugh sounded again. "I meant right, silly me."

"All that power," Caerys sneered, "and you still have the sense of humour of a four year old."

"And you'd rather have the sense of humour than the power, right?" Lilith dragged her to a halt and, by the sounds, unlocked a door. "Well, it's a good thing you're not getting the chance to find out, isn't it." Shoving her forward again, Lilith moved into her room, and Caerys cracked her shins off a low couch and fell on to it on her chest.

"Stand up, you idiot." Lilith dragged Caerys up by her hair, looping it over something and dragging her up onto her toes where she was left hanging. "Now, let's have a look... how the hell did they d... oh, that's clever." Lilith muttered, to herself more than Caerys.

"How did they do what?"

"They locked you up, idiot... you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" Caerys' scowl was enough of an answer. "You have a talent, inherited through your family, but that talent feeds of a base power. You're a Seer, which is the only vestige of your power that squeezes through this dam they've put up over your soul... you're going to be more of a treasure than I imagined..." Lilith was practically drooling, and Caerys cringed away from the long nails that trailed possessively down her neck, clawing the buttons away from her blouse.