‘Very well.’ Mack straightened and smoothed her hands over her lap, though I didn’t see how she could have possibly wrinkled her jumpsuit in the past few minutes. ‘I’ve been authorised to give you an offer.’

  My heart started playing my ribs like a xylophone. She was about to wipe away all of the problems I’d been having for the past twelve hours. And I would never have to think about the demons ever again—well, aside from their upcoming hostile takeover, which I’d obviously have to mention to someone…

  ‘Magic Corp is prepared to promote you to field agent, given your sudden prowess with Physical,’ Mack began. I perked up—this was even better than I’d hoped. ‘And you will be given a new contract to sign, thereby taking you off the Kill Register—’

  ‘How long is it?’ I asked before I could stop myself. ‘The Kill Register, I mean. And how many of the people on it didn’t even realise they had demonic abilities?’

  Mack’s voice was like a blade of ice, one that cut right into my chest. ‘No name stays there for very long, regardless of the infraction.’

  Infraction. Yep, being born was my infraction.

  ‘Okay,’ I murmured rather than bring this up. I really didn’t want Mack to rescind her offer and I doubted she had any sympathy for me.

  ‘As I was trying to say, before I was so rudely interrupted…’ Mack’s tone took on a bite—not quite crocodile-sized, but large enough that I winced. ‘These are privileges, not rights, and they must be earned. Especially since we are willing to overlook any demonic qualities you might display in the future.’

  ‘So what’s the catch?’ I asked. Maybe I’d have to renounce all demonhood, which wasn’t hard given that I’d never displayed Portal or Persuasion, even when…

  Even when I’d been with my father.

  That struck something inside me, like a loud clanging bell. I hadn’t inherited anything from my father. I didn’t have his facial features, his strength, or his powers. I had nothing. This caused a great spasm of pain in my chest, one that briefly overwhelmed the fear I was feeling. But I knew I could do it. I could give up on finding my father because I had to fend for myself, like I’d been doing ever since he’d abandoned me for the safety of the demonic realm.

  ‘Of course there’s a catch, but it is quite minor,’ Mack assured me. ‘You’ll visit your friend, the Kill Squad agent, and you will convince her to take you to that sanctuary of hers. We know she has been shirking her duties, but what we don’t know is where she’s keeping the fugitives.’

  Oh God. Magic Corp wanted me to betray the only person who’d ever been there for me. I didn’t need Fido’s tiny nip through the fabric of my pants to tell me that I couldn’t do it.

  Shit, I’d have given up my parents in a heartbeat. But not Merindah. Not ever.

  ‘Hell no,’ I said.

  Mackenzie stared at me for what felt like an aeon. Then she nodded. ‘Very well. There’s another way, but it will not be quite so easy. You might prefer to betray Merindah’s confidence.’

  ‘I doubt it. Spill.’ That deafening silence again. I swallowed, but my mouth stayed stubbornly dry. ‘Mackenzie. What do I have to do?’

  One of her pockets produced a lighter. She clicked it a few times until a small flame emerged, engulfing the end of her cigarette. She visibly shuddered as she began puffing away. ‘New York City was just the start. There’s a war coming. I’m trying to keep the government and the press from getting wind of it.’

  ‘I seem to recall us promising the government we’d tell them about these sorts of things, it being part of national security and all,’ I said, thinking of the angry and sceptical posts that had popped up on social media since magic had gone public. ‘We have to let them know what’s coming. To protect people.’

  ‘Not much they can do if shit does hit the fan,’ Mackenzie stated, taking a long draw from her cigarette. ‘We can give them Tech’s fancy apps, but what happens if those fail? They’d only have pitiful guns for backup. Better to keep it quiet.’

  Since the Australian branch had gained a reputation for doing its own thing, I suspected this wasn’t an internationally sanctioned action. We’d had problems with our global cousins in the past—most notably the British branch, due to their disapproval of us getting involved in various non-magical conflicts.

  Our century-long feud had been exacerbated by them not lifting a finger to help Australian magic-users trapped in Singapore during WWII—our people, of course, had been unable to use their powers in any obvious way because of A) the risk of revealing magic and B) the chance we’d alert the Japanese branch to our interference. Anyway, we were now openly getting involved for PR reasons, which was making us unpopular with just about everyone.

  Since when did any of the branches agree with each other anyway? I’d never heard of the Russian branch paying much heed to anyone else (they even had a different name, for God’s sake) and the Americans were also chipping in with their government’s overseas actions. We only pretended to be a united front to the world so that no one would realise just how fractured and vulnerable we really were.

  ‘Okay, but where do I fit in with all this?’ I asked Mack. My stomach was churning in a way that made me sure I was about to hurl, even though I hadn’t eaten anything for hours.

  ‘You’re in with the demons, they think you’re one of them,’ Mack said. ‘We need someone on the inside, someone who can report on their every move, someone who can give us an accurate headcount, someone who can lead us right to their base of operations—when the time comes, of course.’

  ‘I won’t do it,’ I told her.

  ‘You will if you want Merindah to live. She’s good, but once I put her on the Kill Register she’ll have no chance.’

  My thumb drifted back over to the WatchDog app. Part of me wanted to know if I could take her on—I’d heard she’d sparred with the head of the American branch and had broken both of his legs before he’d managed to say uncle. Was it possible to defeat her? Could brute force triumph over skill? I wasn’t confident enough to find out.

  Simon was nice enough, hot enough, had been a decent enough snog. He’d even saved my life. But what could I look forward to if I chose his side? Hiding out in demon-filled dens, always afraid that a Hellsomething would manage to kill me? And what would happen to the human magic-users at Magic Corp when Simon lost control of his people? With someone like that Saul guy in charge, the demons would kill everyone at MC. All of them. Even Dennis Freaking Chan didn’t deserve that.

  ‘Fine.’ I lowered the phone, ignoring another of Fido’s nips. ‘I’ll spy for you. How long are we talking? A week? A month? Am I getting paid?’

  Mack released an uncharacteristic snort. It could have sprung from amusement, but I suspected derision instead. ‘I can arrange back pay, once we are satisfied with what you have given us.’

  ‘So I can ask for conditions.’

  ‘Jennifer,’ she said warningly.

  ‘Just a few,’ I insisted. ‘I’ll need incentive, right?’

  ‘I’ll pass them on to my boss, but don’t bank on it. You’re getting your life, which is more than anyone else on the Register has ever been given.’

  Fair enough. But I had to at least try or I’d never forgive myself. ‘I want to talk to people who worked with my mother, people who knew her. And I want to know where she’s buried.’

  ‘Goodness, Jennifer, is it really that important?’ Mack removed her cigarette from her mouth, apparently just so she could cluck her tongue at me. ‘You shouldn’t wallow in the past.’

  ‘Those are my conditions, along with the back pay,’ I said firmly. ‘Oh, and don’t touch Merindah. Or try to find her sanctuary. Those people have suffered enough, don’t you think?’

  Mack stubbed her cigarette out on the ground and left the butt there, hidden among the blades of grass, where any child or hapless dog could find it. I resisted the urge to call her a tosser—it didn’t seem a particularly wise move, given the circumstances.

  ‘It doesn’t help,’ Mack said abruptly, her voice raspy. I figured this was because of the smoke until I saw her pained expression. ‘Knowing who your parents are, that is. They didn’t make you who you are. We did. Trust me, Jennifer, it’s not worth forging or maintaining connections like that.’ Her eyes drifted to the ground for a moment, then snapped back up again. ‘But if you insist, I’ll see that it’s done. Now go be a good little spy or you won’t live to waste my time ever again.’

  I stood up as fast as I could, sweeping my phone’s camera around the immediate area and trying not to look too nervous. ‘Mackenzie…the Hellhounds have been called off, haven’t they?’

  She grinned. Even in the poor lighting, I could see how far her lips stretched up the sides of her face. ‘Don’t want the demons to start suspecting you now, do we?’

  There was a chorus of growls, sounding far too close for comfort.

  ‘You bitch,’ I said. ‘The higher-ups wouldn’t have authorised this.’

  ‘Are you sure, Jennifer?’

  Nope, nope, nope. I was not.

  So I turned and ran.

  18

  ‘Surely you can run faster than that, Jennifer!’ Mack called after me with what could only be described as malignant glee.

  If you’d asked me what her biggest character flaw was a day or so before this, I would never have picked ‘enjoys the thought of dismemberment a little too much’. But there I was, sprinting for my life because of her.

  I crammed my hand into my pocket, scooped up Fido, and tossed him over my shoulder. A huge thud followed, letting me know that he’d expanded to his full height. Then came the yelping, the snarling, the unearthly cries. I looked back and bit my lip. Fido wasn’t doing so well. I couldn’t see his assailants, but I could definitely see his growing number of injuries.

  And I’d slowed down, all because I was worried about a damn dog that wasn’t even real.

  ‘Shit, Jen, that was stupid,’ I gasped and put on more speed, knowing that I was only delaying inevitable. I couldn’t outrun Hellhounds.

  I was going to have to fight.

  I quit PercApption and swiftly activated WatchDog. I expected the savage surge of power but cried out anyway, needing to vent the pain somehow. Shaking with a potent mix of fear and excitement, I whirled around and threw out both hands, one still clutching the phone—

  —and an enormous Physical shockwave blasted out of me, snapping branches, flower stems, and (hopefully) necks.

  I staggered backwards and hit the sandstone wall that ran the length of the shore, nearly toppling into the water in the process. After a worrying couple of moments, I managed to pitch forward onto my knees. My ripped pants didn’t do much to cushion the impact. That fucking hurt.

  I’d apparently only nixed the first wave of creatures, because it sounded like there was an entire stampede of Hellsomethings headed my way. I frantically shook the hand that was attached to my phone. Instead of another boost of power, I got nastily throbbing temples and an upset stomach for my trouble. Ouch. Definitely not a good sign.

  So I turned and ran. Again.

  The exit closest to Mrs Macquarie’s Chair was my chosen destination. Strangely, a Physical ladder appeared on the gate before I was in range. I didn’t have time question it, just threw myself onto the rungs and started climbing. Look, I’m not particularly strong, but I made it up and out of Hellhound range in two seconds flat.

  ‘Jen!’ someone screamed. ‘Jump! That’s not a Hellhound!’

  ‘Dennis?’ I exclaimed.

  Dennis Freaking Chan was on the other side of the gate, taking pot shots at thin air. I couldn’t exactly hang there gawping. The gate shook beneath me and flames were starting to lick their way up from the bottom, buckling the metal, peeling the paint—and heading straight for me. Fido was nowhere to be seen, but evidently Dennis was just as capable of inflicting damage because a fountain of black blood suddenly erupted.

  Wow, I really didn’t want to know what kind of Hellcreature that had been.

  I threw myself onto the ground, wobbled ominously before I finally stuck the landing, and then resumed staring at Dennis. He was wearing a dark hoodie with lime-green jeans—of the skinny variety because, damn him, he could pull that look off.

  His mouth opened, but I got in first. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’

  ‘Saving your life!’ Dennis replied.

  He swung me behind him and kept on hurling spiked Physical balls through the bars of the gate. Blind to the creatures as always, I had to hope he was actually hitting them. I wrestled my way out of his grip and shoved my phone back into my pocket. WatchDog had failed me. And PercApption wasn’t going to be much help—I didn’t need it or Dennis’ panicked expression to know that there were multiple targets converging on the gate.

  I reached for the core inside me and nearly wept when I felt my intact power reserves. Perpetually weak and so much less than I needed, but still there. No magical app required.

  ‘Um, should we run or something?’ I ventured when the gate dented inwards.

  Dennis’ face didn’t even twitch.

  ‘Dennis!’ I whacked him to get his attention. When his eyes flitted to mine, I said, ‘We can’t take on this many. Let’s go.’

  Please have a car, I thought in his general direction.

  Dennis grimaced.

  Shit. I took that as a no.

  He turned towards me, hand outstretched. I took a big step backwards, because there was no way I was going to let him slow down our retreat by making me run hand in hand with him. Happily, I didn’t need to come up with a polite way to refuse, because the next thing I heard was, ‘GET AWAY FROM HER!’

  Dennis immediately backed off.

  I flung myself around, preparing to run again—and smacked into something very solid, very male, and very pissed off. The leather jacket was a big hint.

  ‘Where’s Fido?’ Simon demanded.

  ‘Probably dead,’ I said, my eyes watering.

  Simon pushed me away, visibly steeled himself, then bellowed at the oncoming Hellcreatures, ordering them to freeze. Whatever was attacking the gate took a breather. But then the ground shook under much heavier footsteps, a one-creature advance that sounded a lot like vengeful thunder.

  ‘That’s not good!’ Dennis threw a wild finger at the gate. ‘Are you seeing this?’

  ‘No! I fucking can’t!’ I snapped. ‘And I’m not going to hang around long enough to feel it.’ I spun to Simon. ‘Helltroll?’

  He nodded. ‘Sounds like it.’

  ‘I was joking!’ I cried. ‘There’s always Hellthis and Hellthat—’

  ‘Dennis, cover our retreat!’ Simon said.

  No human could refuse a command like that.

  I watched Dennis Chan turn to face the Helltroll all by himself. He might very well have been standing at the gates of hell, not a set that opened to the usually serene Royal Botanic Garden. He was a doomed one-man army.

  A wisp of Physical curled out of my palm. My power reserves were laughable, but there was no way I could let someone die for me. Not again. Never again.

  I threw a pleading look at Simon. ‘We can’t just leave him!’

  ‘Yes, we can!’ Simon insisted. ‘They’re not after him.’

  His face was like stone—stubborn, uncompromising. There was no point arguing with him. But I knew one way to make sure he stuck around.

  I ran to assist Dennis.

  ‘Almost—got—it!’ he wheezed. ‘I’ve weakened a spot on its chest, I just need…’

  I formed a spear and lengthened it into a medieval pike, just like the one I’d seen on a history program (you know, those docos with the long-haired Scotsman who might actually explode the TV with his enthusiasm?). I caught Dennis’ nod of approval at the full Five Metres of Death I was holding, grinned back at him—and then rammed it up with as much force as I could manage.

  Dennis had done most of the work. And I was damn lucky. Just as the gate crumpled and my Physical was about to give out, my weapon hit home.

  A shower of ichor drenched us. Thick gooey strands of it slid down my borrowed shirt and onto my pants, ruining them for good (not to mention my poor TOMS). The experience was a lot like being dipped in tar.

  ‘Fucking gross!’ I shouted and got a mouthful of the stuff for my trouble.

  And then, naturally, the closest thing to me got hit with a stream of black vomit. Poor Dennis.

  ‘Sorry,’ I mumbled.

  Dennis had other things he wanted to spew out. ‘Simon Bradley? What are you doing here? And you just—’

  ‘I’d rather know what you’re doing here,’ Simon said.

  Dennis held up his hands. ‘Whoa, no, it’s not what you think.’

  ‘Did you follow Jen?’ Simon demanded, lunging forward to seize the collar of Dennis’ jumper. ‘How long have you been stalking her?’

  The hood flopped back off Dennis’ face and he gasped, ‘What? No! I followed Mack!’

  Oh shit. Simon must have thought that Dennis had found Demon HQ and given away its position.

  ‘Simon!’ I spat out some bile-flavoured chunks of Helltroll soup. ‘I told Mack where I was. It’s my fault.’

  His blue eyes pinned me in place. And they weren’t dark with desire this time; Simon looked downright demonic. ‘You told her. No wonder. Just as you were done sneaking out, we were attacked again. I had to scatter my people before I went after you.’

  Well, I had left them without a Physical defender, hadn’t I?

  I didn’t think that scrounging up an apology would do me any favours. I settled for focusing on another, much friendlier face. Huh. Dennis was looking way too interested and not scared enough, in my opinion.

  Before I could ask him about it, Simon snapped, ‘I can’t hold the creatures forever. Someone has to keep them occupied while we escape and I will make him do it.’

  ‘Uh.’ Dennis coughed. ‘I’d rather you didn’t get inside my head again. I’d have covered your butts anyway.’

  Simon and I both stared at him.

  ‘Hey, hey!’ Dennis’ hands went back up. ‘I’ll hold them off for you. I swear. And if they’re not after me, then I’ll be fine. Won’t I?’

 

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