cricket stadium. It offends me that this is happening so close to where we are based, and even more that it's almost next door to one of the greatest cricket pitches in the world. How could Stirrers have grown so brazen? But I guess if I had a god hurtling through the ether towards earth, I'd be brazen, too, and perhaps pressured to perform. To make good, and ensure that my god was pleased.
What worries me more is that I can't taste them in the air. There's nothing. If anything, the space they occupy is too neutral. It's neither living nor dead. Are those aerials responsible for that?
The air is still and humid. Sweat sheens Lissa's forehead. Oscar and Travis are feeling it, too.
'What is this?' I ask. 'The aerials. The house being so near the heart of the city. Why?'
'Yeah, I've never seen anything like it,' Lissa says. 'And we still wouldn't have, except for Alex.'
'Alex?' I look over at him. 'You found this?'
'Yeah,' he says. 'I tried to get in touch with you. When I couldn't, I called Lissa. Should have known she'd be able to get onto you.'
'I've been a little busy today. Sorry,' I say, guilt pangy and all.
Alex nods; looks like we've all been busy. 'I've been looking into the Closers and this address came up several times. Something about a safe house, or being locked into the grid. I came and had a look, didn't get too close. You can tell why.'
'How'd you come by the information?'
'Slightly illegally,' Alex mumbles, not quite able to meet my eye. It's not the way he likes to work at all. 'Been digging around emails in the Closers' server.'
'Seems he has quite a knack for the cyber-espionage,' Lissa says approvingly.
'Yes, well.' He blushes. 'That's just between you and me. I really shouldn't be here, but I want to see this done properly.' Alex is about as straitlaced as they come. For him to do any digging would have been painful indeed.
'You did good.' I paint a brace symbol on Oscar's wrist, Travis is already done: the paint is simply red acrylic mixed with my blood. The brace symbol is a potent guard against our 'problem'. It used to be, at any rate. 'You have to wonder how long this has been going on.' I nod at Stirrer House down below. The implications are somewhat frightening to consider. How many other Stirrer houses are there out in the 'burbs and country towns? Places where we don't keep as much of a presence?
Lissa grimaces. 'A while, at best guess. I'd say three weeks, maybe four.'
Solstice knew about this and he didn't tell us. Just what game is he playing? I'm going to have to give that bastard a call. Looks like the war may be building up again.
'That Stirrer god of yours is getting closer, isn't it?' Alex says.
'It's always drawing closer, but distance is a weird thing, in the Deepest Dark.' If only he could see it as up close as I have.
I look around at the assembled group. 'Oscar, Travis: you two call this through if we have a problem. I don't expect one, but then again, I didn't expect to come across a Stirrer safe house in the middle of Brisbane. Alex – do you want to come down with us?' I tap the brace paint. Alex nods grimly and submits to being painted.
Oscar and Travis don't look happy, but they're not going to be any good to us down there. In fact they could be a liability, even with the brace paint.
'So, how are we going to do this?' Lissa asks.
'Frontal assault will work best,' I say.
'Do you want to wait for some backup?'
'Don't be silly, we've handled worse. And besides, this needs a subtle touch, I think.'
'You think you can manage that?' Alex snorts, trying to tough it out. He's seen me battle hundreds of Stirrers on George Street, even saved my life with a few well-placed shots himself. But this is different.
'Do you think you can? We were having this sort of fun when we were five,' I say, giving Lissa a bit of a hug.
Alex grimaces. 'You weren't the only ones with Pomp parents. I know what I'm doing.'
There are two dozen sparrows gathered around me, pecking and hopping, looking innocent as all hell. You wouldn't know that they've all pecked my hand and supped a bit on my blood. Two blocks away wait eight crows. The heavy guns don't require my blood; they're less traditional than the sparrows on that front.
When I'd first become RM I'd managed to stall several hundred Stirrers in one go, but that had just been a flare-up of my new powers – apparently that's the way it works. Since then, in the few times I'd done this, I'd returned to the original method, blood and touch. Keeps me honest, I suppose.
A sparrow jumps on my finger and chirps at me impatiently. I feel like I should be singing some sort of Disneyesque musical number.
Lissa runs her blade down her hand. It's a swift, sharp movement, and then she kisses me on the cheek.
'Be careful,' I say.
'You too.'
'Let's go.'
We split up: approach the house from opposite sides. Half my sparrows shoot around the back, the rest follow me, a mad battering of tiny wings. Alex isn't far behind them, his gun out. I signal for him to approach the back door. He nods. He'll be safer out there, I hope.
I'm almost at the house when the first Stirrer sees me. He drops his beer. I leap over the fence, catch my foot, nearly fall flat on my face. Lissa is already past me. She swings a hand at the Stirrer. He catches it. The bastard's wearing gloves. Lissa swings around with her other hand, slaps a bloody handprint against his head.
I'm on top of the other one now. Its being scrambles and scrapes through me, and into the Deepest Dark. The body's just a body again.
The front door's unlocked. I go in first, cautious but quick.
Lissa's behind me. Every time I blink, I catch a glimpse of what my sparrows can see. Nothing has tried to use the back door yet. Alex is waiting there, gun at the ready, not that it would do much good. My crows are tearing through the air towards the building, their cries and caws growing louder with every wing beat.
I'm through to the living room, and gagging with the stench of rotten flesh. It's the first time in a while that it isn't alcohol or shift induced. And I can't quite believe what I see: two twitching bodies, tied to the ceiling, flies coating their flesh. Maggots carpet the floor beneath, a squelching, writhing mass. The spaces of the Stirrers' skin not fly-coated or maggot-bubbling are marked with symbols I don't recognise, but which none the less drive icy nails of dread through me. It doesn't stop there, though, there's something not right with the geometry of these ceilings, the way their corners meet – or don't – something that baffles my vision like the seeds of a migraine. I can smell stale smoke, too. The ceiling above, near the edges of its warped geometry is black with scorch marks.
The bodies jerk and spasm. Eyes flick open. Lips curl with the most cunning of smiles. 'You'll all be screaming by the end,' their mouths, bearded with flies, whisper simultaneously. 'It's coming.'
The air is charged with a wild electricity. All over my body, hairs lift. My mobile phone crackles in my pocket. In the far corner of the room, a webwork of electricity sighs and hisses in the air. A living, shivering net. It slides towards me; maggots pop and bubble on the floor beneath it. My first instinct is to run. Instead, I slap the nearest body hard. The Stirrer's soul passes through me like a ball of barbed wire. And the electricity fizzles out, as though I've broken the circuit.
The second Stirrer snaps at my hand, ducks my strike, and somehow manages to scuttle across the ceiling. The length of the ropes that bind it limits the creature's movement. It blows me a kiss. 'She'll be dead, they all will, and you'll know what's coming. And you won't care,' it hisses. It starts to chew on the ropes. But we both know it doesn't stand a chance.
I swing a bloody fist at its face, and it's just a body again. It's another rough stall, though. I drop to a crouch with the pain of it. They have been in these bodies for weeks. Their souls have grown thorns and tangles. My sparrows are hard at work, too. Their pomps are quick on the tail of mine.
Lissa stumbles into the living room. She looks exhausted. 'Now, I stayed in some dives back in my uni days, but none as bad as this. Even when I ignored the cleaning roster.' She nods at the bodies. 'There's a Stirrer in every room.'
