Excerpt: Simon Said (working title)

Positioned as best he could be behind a battered blue Rover, he watched as she turned into the station car park, stopping by the gate for a minute before following her. It was nearly deserted, most travellers preferring the better equipped inner city station. If you were going to deliver a young man to a mysterious recipient, it was the better place to choose.

By the time he turned off the engine and dismounted, she had led the obedient young man onto one of the unoccupied platforms. A cold feeling of dread settled into his stomach as he pulled the gun from the compartment below his seat and shoved it into the back of his trousers, where he hoped that it wouldn’t be so noticeable. For once he found himself wishing he had Jonathan’s incredible amount of hair - no better way of disguising anything than covering it with a thick curtain of blond mane. But all he had was his own rough, outgrown crop, no use for anything, so he just had to hope no one would stand behind him and wonder what the strange shape pressing against his jacket was.

The platform Celeste and the boy were standing on was completely empty. No passengers impatiently awaiting their train, not even anyone on the platform opposite. Simon wondered if the station had been closed entirely without a single word. But the signs hanging from the wooden roof, festooned with peeling paint, indicated that a train was due - just not for an hour, and not to this platform. Celeste and her cargo stood side by side, the boy shifting nervously from foot to foot and her hand protectively resting over her right pocket. Simon could guess at the content.

“So you’re here.” The words made him almost leap from his skin. They came from the other side of the platform, at the top of the stairs that led once to an old ticket office. The roof obscured the view from the alfa; all he could tell was that the speaker was a man. The sound of footsteps rang around the abandoned station as he walked down the concrete stairs, eerily reminiscent of the first time he had met Ioann. He supposed that footsteps everywhere sounded the same when there was barely anyone there to hear them.

Celeste shifted position; he could hear the faint creak of her leathers. “You’re here for the pickup?”

Simon swore in his head. She should have asked for a name at the very least. Instead, all the man said was, “he’s undamaged?”

“Of course he is.” Simon could hear the bristling of her professional pride. “At Ace Couriers we take the best care of our cargo.”

“And how does he feel about being called ‘cargo’?”

Simon’s eyes widened, and for the first time he peered around the wall at the female courier and her human companion. The boy was staring at the ground, scuffing one foot against the concrete of the platform, but his eyes looked stricken. Celeste was her usual arrogant self, her entire body language screaming aggression against the unseen claimant. “He can deal with that later.”

The alfa was sure he could hear a smirk in the unseen man’s voice. “He won’t be dealing with anything later.”

“What do you mean?” Celeste’s eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. She was giving the unseen man the same look she sometimes gave Simon: hatred and contemplation combined.

It took a few seconds for the man to speak. When he did, he sounded amused. “I’m not Mr. Markham.” The footsteps rang out across the station again, growing louder with every passing second.

The gun was in Celeste’s hand before Simon realised that she had even drawn it. Two steps carried her to her right and he realised she was positioning herself between the stranger and the boy. His own hand crept around his back and pulled the pistol from his leathers. “Why are you here?”

The man came into view, stopping only a bare metre from the angry woman. “I have come to dispose of your... cargo.” He smirked, one corner of his mouth quirking up higher than the other. “I can’t allow him to roam free.”

Celeste almost choked. Her gun was aimed at his head. Probably trained on the spot between his dark eyes. “You can’t- What?! What business is it of yours?” Behind her, Simon watched the boy take a few steps back. His wide eyes were fixed on the man who wasn’t Mr. Markham. Despite the anger in her voice, Celeste’s aim never wavered.

The man took another step forward. With one elegant hand he reached out for the gun.

She pulled the trigger.

For a second there was a deafening report that echoed around the empty station. Then in the silence that followed Celeste gasped. Her grip on the weapon went slack.

The man pulled the gun from her limp fingers without a struggle. “Really. Perhaps you should try harder next time.”

“I- You-” She stared at him. “I- Right between your-”

“And yet, nothing.” He laughed, entirely without emotion. It sounded more like it was something he thought he should do rather than anything he felt. “Should I see if the same thing happens to you?” With a quick flick of his wrist the gun was aimed directly at Celeste’s face. “Do you think they’d be able to guess who you are, if I shot you from this distance? Well,” he mused, “at least they could ID you from your hair.”

Simon took a deep, shaking breath. He didn’t realise that his hands were trembling until he glanced down at them. Stupid or not, he had to do something because he couldn’t just stand there and watch Celeste be-

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The soft male voice made him jump and for a second he thought that he had been seen. It took a heartbeat longer to realise that it wasn’t the man opposite Celeste speaking. It took another heartbeat to realise he recognised the voice.

Ioann stepped past Simon and onto the platform without indicating that he even knew the alfa was there. “You’re not supposed to be here, Alex. Why don’t you just crawl back into your hole?” Both hands behind his back, Ioann tilted his head to one side and stared at the other man from the corner of his eye. He looked spectacularly unqualified to be there; Simon let out a deep internal sigh and hoped to God that the idiot didn’t get himself killed.

The other man’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Ioann. “That’s Mr. Jaska to you, Ioann.”

“That’s hardly fair, is it?” Ioann tilted his head back and smiled slightly. “I don’t demand you use my surname, Alex. Why should I use yours?”

The man named Alex let out a soft growl. His gun swung between Celeste and Ioann like a divining rod. “Why are you here?” The words were ground up and spat out like he didn’t like their taste. It clearly rankled to have to ask the question.

Ioann shrugged and shoved both his hands into his pockets instead, rubbing his toe against the worn concrete of the platform. “I thought I’d come along and pick up the kid.” Simon clamped his free hand over his mouth in case he let out a choke or laugh: the black haired youth didn’t look any younger than Ioann himself. “Before you could get him.” He smiled again. “I guess I was a bit late.”

“Just a little.” The cocky smile had returned to Alex’s face, his cold eyes trained on the man in front of himself.

Ioann gestured to the still visibly stunned Celeste. “So let her go. You don’t need to waste your time with her now. You’ve got him there, and me.”

“Why would I just settle for two when I could have three?” Alex’s gun moved again, this time pointing directly at the young man who was still edging back. His voice sent chills through Simon. “I could kill Myletis now before you could take him away. What would you do then?”

With a shrug, Ioann glanced over his shoulder at the cargo. “It’d be a shame to lose him, but it wouldn’t be an unrecoverable situation. We could find someone else.” But when he looked back to the dark haired man, he was frowning.

The boy, Myletis, looked horrified by Ioann’s words. He took two further steps back before he lost his footing, falling backwards with a crash against the cold concrete. “I- I-”

Simon realised abruptly these were the first words he’d heard the man speak.

Ioann’s expression never changed, but Alex’s darkened immediately and he cast a glance at the pink haired man. “Don’t make him-”

“Don’t make him what?” Ioann interjected, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t scare him? I’m not the one pointing a gun at him. If you can’t deal with the consequences, don’t-”

“I- I don’t-” Myletis tried again, his voice soft and rough, as he stared with wide, frightened eyes up at the gun still levelled at his head.

“Shut up.” Alex advised loudly, bringing the gun to bear at Celeste’s head instead. “Don’t say another word.”

Myletis opened his mouth and Simon saw his Adam’s apple bob as though he was trying to speak, but no sound came out. Instead he watched his fingers try to grip the concrete, pressing hard and uselessly against the floor. He tucked his legs up like he was trying to protect his body.

Ioann frowned again, biting on his lower lip. “You should stop this now, before-”

“Before what? Before you call in your cavalry?” With that, Alex turned and smiled brilliantly in Simon’s direction, his grin turning his face into something that could be considered handsome if you ignored the lack of humanity in his stare.

Ioann cast a sharp green gaze in Simon’s direction too and the alfa realised with a sinking heart that he had indeed seen him earlier, but probably thinking it safest acted as though he hadn’t. “I have no cavalry,” he said decisively, emphasising the words with a shake of his head.

“Oh, really?” Alex raised an eyebrow. “Then what-”

“No.”

“No?” For the first time, Alex sounded amused. It was little consolation to Simon, whose heart was hammering a tattoo against his ribcage. “So then, what’s-”

“No.”

Alex barked out a harsh laugh. “Come on, Ioann, you sound like a broken record.” He cocked his head to one side, a mirror image of Ioann’s earlier gesture. His eyes flicked from Ioann to the paralysed Celeste and back again. “If you’re being so obstructive, then that means...” His voice trailed off and he laughed again. “Ignorance is bliss, right?” He stared directly at Simon again, then winked.

Taking another deep, shaking breath, Simon glanced at Myletis and almost stopped breathing altogether. The boy was still staring at Alex, so scared his eyes were nearly glazed over. The waves of fear pouring from him were so powerful as to be palpable. His chest rose and fell rapidly; he was nearly hyperventilating.

As if paying attention to the boy for the first time, Alex’s gaze slid back across to Myletis. He frowned. “What is he doing?”

Ioann didn’t bother to look around, but a strange, lop sided half smile curved his lips. He kept his eyes firmly on Alex’s own. “He’s doing exactly what you didn’t want him to.”

“What?” This time there was no surprise in his tones. Just a cold, dead anger.

The pink haired man shrugged, his hands still firmly embedded in his pockets. “You should really think twice about being so very menacing, Alex. It doesn’t do you any favours.”

“Stop him.” He looked back to Ioann for a second, then returned his gaze to the boy and raised his voice angrily. “You, stop it. Stop!”

“He won’t.” The smile grew. “And threatening won’t help.”

It seemed that Ioann was right. Far from calming down, Myletis seemed to be becoming even more terrified. As Alex took a step forward he scrabbled backward, whimpering audibly. “Stop it now,” Alex hissed at him, taking another step forward and pointing the gun at his head.

Surreptitiously Ioann took two or three steps to one side, his hands coming out of his pockets to reveal a set of earplugs. Glancing at Simon from the corner of his eye as he pushed them into his ears, he made a quick gesture, palm downwards, that indicated ‘stay down’.

Simon was perfectly happy to comply.

Alex took another step forward, standing almost directly over the boy with the gun levelled at his head. “Stop it now.” He snarled, his face contorted with fury. “Don’t you dare, don’t you-”

Covering his face with both hands, Myletis took a deep breath and screamed.