Jason Willow 3: Carpe Diem

JASON WILLOW 3

Carpe Diem

2nd Edition

By Gareth Mottram

1st Edition Cover Artwork by Peter Callow

Jason Willow 3: Carpe Diem

2nd Edition

Copyright © 2018 Gareth C. Mottram

published by

The Red Button Press

(This version distributed by Smashwords)

The author has asserted their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.

www.jasonwillow.com

www.facebook.com/jasonwillow666

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Contents

Front Page

Reviews

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

What next from Gareth Mottram?

About the author…

Discussion guide

Praise For Jason Willow

Kindle Book Review March 2013 (5/5 Stars)

My favorite part of the book was the rip-roaring, rollicking ending. Action? Man, yes! … Jason is a good looking kid, but he's annoyingly cocky, impulsive and does the wrong things - frequently. But he is also well drawn and sweet, he's good-hearted, and we pull for him with all we have.

Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award - Expert Reviewers

Carving out believable relationships between siblings, especially brothers and sisters, isn't something I see done well in young adult fiction, but I think this author hit the nail on the head… and then there is the mystery of the kids' father… Is he a good guy or a bad guy - that is the real burning question.

ABNA Quarter Finals: Publishers Weekly Reviewer

...the exciting plot keeps the pages turning. The description of Jason’s Gift is particularly original and the fight scenes are intense.

The SL – School Librarian magazine (U.K.)

This exciting first novel is not for the faint hearted with menacing locations and action descriptions. …a fairly complex but exceedingly hard to put down novel…

The Times Educational Supplement (Web Site – reader review)

The fierce, often gruesome, battles suggest similarities with modern day computer games...

Amazon.co.uk reader reviews: Book 1

…The images created are so vivid you become part of the scenery and feel like you are only a few footsteps behind the action…

…one long roller coaster of action and suspense. Magnificent locations came alive with an ever-present sense of menace. …I can't wait to hear more of their story.

Amazon.co.uk reader reviews: Book 2

Wow yet again I was thoroughly lost in a world of fast-paced yet believable action...

Brilliant action packed second instalment. I just couldn't put it down. Fast action, clear storyline and excellent characters to make it all work.

…a dark journey across Europe to places and situations beyond your imagination.

CHAPTER 1

‘Hey, Thirsty – you want some ale?’

‘No,’ Jason grunted, then added, ‘just had some.’ He quickly pulled his hood further forward.

The man slunk out of an alley, pulling a small Pepsi bottle from underneath his filthy, once-white T-shirt. ‘Bollocks, you have.’ He smiled, a line of crooked, dirty teeth ripping across his stubbled face. ‘Pubs won't serve you here, will they, not without a work card? You need me.’

Miranda nudged Jason past the man and closer towards the alley he had just come from. They both had hoods up and dyed black hair but they still needed to get out of the flickering patch of yellow street-light.

The alley stank. A lot had changed here in three months but Drunken Abbot had kept its smell.

‘That’s more like it my pretty,’ the man said, leering at Miranda even though she'd hidden her curves in baggy jeans and a man-size hoodie. ‘Now, it’s fifty for the bottle or I can do you a half-cup for twenty.’ He tapped a small tin cup hanging on his belt.

‘I told you…’ Jason began.

‘Another one coming,’ Violet hissed. She was pressed against a wall, half in shadow. Her new blonde messy pixie hair was a lot more messed up than it should have been, one slate blue eye almost hidden by her specially greased-up fringe.

The man twisted to stare at Violet then smiled thinly back at Jason. ‘Better take my price quick, boy.’ He glanced down the street to where a thick set, bald man was striding towards them, pushing his way through the night crowds - Drunken Abbot residents swelled by a mass of incomers. ‘Bald Billy will charge you more ’n double what I said.’

He nodded back at Violet. She sagged against the wall, determinedly not looking at him or his bottle. ‘Looks like your little friend here really needs a drink…’ he said and jiggled the bottle in front of her.

Violet’s snapped her head towards the liquid, her eyes wide in the depths of her dirty anorak hood but with a visible effort she forced herself to turn away.

‘Declan, you filthy worm,’ boomed a voice, ‘what the hell you doing down my end?’

It was the big man – Bald Billy - now just ten steps away.

Jason scanned the street. Some dozen or so people had turned at the shout but most seemed to be in the middle of their own back alley deals or pleading with massive bouncers outside the town’s ubiquitous corner pubs.

Jason caught Dad’s hand signal from across the street – get out of sight.

Jason caught hold of Violet’s skinny arm and pulled her into the alley, Miranda a step behind him.

‘Crap!’ their wretched salesman spat and he scurried away into the crowds.

‘Quick,’ Jason said, breaking into a run along the dark alley between boarded up windows.

‘Oi, addicts,’ Bald Billy shouted again, ‘you owe me a trade.’ Jason glanced back. The huge man filled the entrance, silhouetted against the fuzzy yellow glare of the street. Another man, also shaven headed and even bigger, stepped into view behind him.

‘You can’t leave my end – not less I says so,’ the voice bounced against the dark walls as the man calmly started to follow them.

Jason, Miranda and Violet sped up. The alley opened onto a half lit street twenty metres away.

Two more shave-heads appeared to block their way.

‘Told ya,’ shouted Bald Billy, from some way behind them.

Jason sped up and launched into a flying kick, smashing a foot into one ugly face. The man flew backwards and Jason landed low to the floor. He span around on one foot and swept the second shave-head off his feet as he tried to close in.

Before the second man even hit the floor, Jason was there and knocked him out with one iron hard fist into his temple.

Jason rolled over the unconscious man and flipped to his feet. Three month’s hard Jakra practice between Gift training meant he could afford to save his powers for best.

'Behind you,' Miranda hissed as she and Violet burst out from the alley.

Jason span around. The first man leapt at him, hands outstretched for his throat.

Jason twisted, pushing both his attacker's arms aside with one hand and smashing the man’s rib cage with the other as he flew passed.

He shouldn’t have been on his feet – that first kick to the head should have levelled him.

Both men stayed down this time but the blood from the first man’s face was already dry and he was struggling to get up – with broken ribs – Jason had felt the crack.

They called them hypos here – super-charged on Drunken Abbot ale. It was not anywhere near the level of being directly Touched by a demon but the ale drinkers were stronger, faster and healed quicker than normal. The more they drank, the tougher they became.

And, unknowingly, the more enslaved to the demon, Xaphan.

Miranda and Violet split to either side of the alley and waited. Jason stepped back and braced himself for Bald Billy and his henchman to appear from the shadows.

No one came. Either the two men had decided against taking Jason on or Louisa was watching their backs.

Still wary, Jason risked a glance to either side. They were on a narrow street, cutting through one large block of closely terraced houses bordered by four main roads full of pubs, run down shops and derelict buildings now full of squatting incomers. It was mercifully quiet but even so, a dozen or so people had been cutting through and stopped to watch the fight. Others were drifting in from either end.

‘I wouldn’t ‘ang around ‘ere if I were you, lad.’ A man stepped out of the small crowd. He was a full head shorter than Jason, only a little taller than Mouse, but bulging with muscles under his tight fitting black polo shirt and jeans. In the half lit street, his eyes seemed to stare manically, open far too wide under heavy eyebrows and gelled down, short black hair. He spoke with a strong, Liverpool accent.

‘With moves like that I can help you make some ale-money before them Brash get a piece of you.’

Miranda came to stand shoulder to shoulder with Jason as Violet backed up to watch over Bald Billy’s groaning men. A few more rubbernecks were being drawn in by the growing crowd. Dad ambled along with them, Ilena some distance behind him.

‘You're new 'ere, aren't you lad?’ the man said, his mad eyes flicking over Miranda and resting on Violet. ‘Come to get some cheap ale for the girl, 'ave you?' He moved closer, walking with the careful, sure-footed grace of a hardened street fighter. 'You’ll get eaten alive in this town without a contact – end up a shaking wreck in a squat like the rest of them. I can help you out. Me name’s Fergie but most people call me Cage – 'cos I fix up fights, see?’

Dad was close enough to hear now. He was a row or two back in with the rapidly growing bunch of onlookers but Jason saw him nod. After five days of drawing a blank they did need some inside help. Still, he mustn’t seem too keen.

‘How do I know you’re not with them?’ Jason asked, flicking his head back to the fallen men.

Cage grinned, big white teeth making his eyes seem even more manic. 'First clue,' he said pointing to his hair. 'Second, I wouldn’t be seen dead with those scrappy ale pushers. What I do makes some serious money and can get you a pub pass.’

There was a murmuring in the crowd. At one end of the street two young women and a man had just turned in from the street. Backlit by yellow fluorescent, they seemed to glide into the alley dressed in pristine, lose white shirts and blouses and black office trousers and skirts. Immediately the small crowd began to disperse, mainly in the opposite direction.

‘Decision time, lad,’ Cage said, nodding towards the new comers. ‘That’s the Monkeys comin’ at us – the Brash boys and girls. You don’t want to get mixed up with them, trust me.’

Dad was starting to drift away with the crowd.

‘Right, we’ll come with you for now,’ Jason said, ‘but don’t try anything. You’ve only seen a fraction of what I can do.’

Cage smiled. ‘Glad to hear it. Anyway, what could a little lad like me do against a big, tall fightin’ machine like you, eh?’

Cage cut into the crowd for a few steps then darted down another narrow alley between two terraces. Jason, Miranda and Violet followed at his heels, darkness and silence closing in on them as the crowd disappeared behind them.

Human shapes lay crumpled against the wall or lay flat out along the floor amongst the rubbish. A couple of them started to shift at the sound of footsteps but quickly shrank back into the debris as Cage drew near.

A couple of alley switches later and it was as if the fight had never happened.

Jason chewed his lip in the darkness. He remembered running through Drunken Abbot alleys such as this just a few months earlier. It seemed like a lifetime ago but despite his new training and powers, he still felt too out of control. He hoped Louisa was around somewhere.

‘We’ll wait up here for a while, okay lad,’ Cage said. ‘Just to make sure we’re not followed, like. Then I’ll take you some place we can chat over a bevy.’

‘I thought we couldn’t get a… proper drink without a work-card?’ Violet piped up. She had stepped into the deepest shadows and was near invisible but her voice was level, very controlled. Too controlled, Jason thought.

‘Dead right, my little Thirsty, you can't - not without the likes of me on your side,’ Cage said, edging back to the last turn they had taken and thrusting one hand deep inside a pocket.

Jason tensed and slipped his hand under his baggy hoodie to unclip the small, silenced pistol holstered there alongside a bowie knife sheathed and clipped hilt down vertically along his sternum. If Cage brought out a gun he’d have to shoot him from this distance – even a small Gift blast might attract the attention of any other Gifted close by and the traces would linger for a good half hour.

Cage peered around the corner and slowly pulled out his hand, raising something to his ear. ‘Hammer – are you there, mate?’ he half whispered.

A moment later, Cage carried on. ‘Great – meet us at Bongo’s in ten – I’ve got someone ‘ere who we might be interested in.’

Cage walked quickly back to them, holding out his device. ‘A walkie – you might have worked out that mobies don’t work in the valley – they’re all blocked by the big man.’

Jason nodded - he remembered Alan Brash controlled all communication in and out of his valley. ‘Hammer? Bongos?’ he asked.

Cage smiled and started them walking again. ‘Hammer’s me best fighter, kind of a business partner really and Bongo’s is a speaksey – a naughty little place where you can 'ave a bit of a quiet chat and Abbot without the Monkeys climbing all over you.’ He winked at Violet. ‘You'll like it there, sweetheart.’

‘The Monkeys are the Brash, you said, right?’ Miranda asked.

‘Oh – she speaks as well as looks pretty,’ Cage grinned back over his shoulder. ‘Spot on, lovely – we call them that because of their precious Drunken Abbot monk badges – they act like gods hiding behind them.’

‘But… what exactly are they doing in the town? Are they like private police or something?’ Miranda pressed.

‘More like a mix of tax collectors and body snatchers – ale money from the pubs and pushers like Bald Billy and clearing the ale-starved Addicts off the streets.’ Cage spat but then found his big toothed smile again. He absently rubbed his left jaw bone and looked back at Jason. ‘Watch out for them though, some of them can fight pretty ‘ard – they're all hypos with free ale to keep them that way. There’s one in particular…’

‘How far is this place?’ Jason cut in. This was a perfect spot for an ambush - yet another narrow alley, one dim light at the far end barely illuminating an over-flowing bin and just serving to make the rows of small windows even darker.

‘Right here, lad, don't panic,’ Cage said, sweeping out one hand towards a dark stairwell and bowing. ‘Just down the steps.’

***

Jason blocked the heavy punch, snaked his hand around the wrist and snapped the thick forearm up behind the back. Before the giant of a man could react, Jason stamped down on the back of his knee and helped him to the floor with a punch between the shoulder blades.

‘Easy,’ Cage shouted, stepping in front of Jason but holding up his hands towards Miranda who had stepped within striking distance, ‘Hammer’s only messing with you. This is how he says hello.’

Jason took in a slow breath, nodded and sat back down at the little round table. ‘Hello, Hammer.’

They were in a drinking den. It was hidden in a large basement, low lights screwed into bare brick walls just illuminating some sort of vile green, wipe-clean linoleum glued over a concrete floor. The chairs and tables were no more luxurious – a mix of wooden kitchen chairs and plastic garden furniture which wobbled and scraped on the torn lino.

Cage waved away two huge bouncers armed with baseball bats who were pushing between the seats towards them. ‘No trouble boys – just a little screen-test, okay?’

The bouncers slowed, stared for a moment then turned back to the iron staircase that served as the only entrance and exit to the den. The thirty or so other patrons, all huddled around their own makeshift seating, turned back to their pints of Drunken Abbot Ale and low conversation bubbled up again.

‘Never a dull moment in the speaksey, eh?’ Cage said, offering a hand down to his best fighter.

Hammer took it, a broken-toothed grin spreading over his big face and pulled himself up. He limped over to the table and plonked his huge body down on a flimsy white garden chair. The plastic arms and legs all splayed a few inches but held.

‘Nice moves, kid,’ Hammer said in a surprisingly light voice for someone who must be carrying eighteen or more stone over a six and a half foot frame. ‘Don’t hold back like that in the Pit though or the other guy will destroy you.’

‘Who says I’m going in the… Pit?’ Jason asked. He had to remember he shouldn't know anything about Drunken Abbot or Darkston Village or any place in the valley. His stomach tightened at the memory of his school fight in the Pit and he wondered how much worse it had become if people like Hammer fought there now.

Cage had been telling him all about the fight nights and the money, glory and ale to be earned right up until Hammer had rattled down the stairs, walked over and swung a punch at Jason.

‘It doesn’t seem to me like you’ve a lot of choice,’ Cage said quietly, nodding towards Violet. She was sitting rigidly in her chair, eyes closed but breathing in barely controlled, short bursts. ‘She won’t be able to hold back from the Ale for much longer and you need either me or a job-card to get it.’

‘We can come here now we know where it is,’ Jason said.

Cage grinned. ‘Members and guests only – and you couldn't pay Speaksey prices anyway. I’m guessing you’re not exactly rolling in cash.'

'What makes you think that?' Miranda asked indignantly.

'No offence gorgeous, but why else would you come to this hell hole? You're just like all the other incomers. Normal people get addicted and bankrupt themselves on the Champagne prices Brash is charging out in his northern pubs. There's no shame in that.’

Jason hesitated then nodded with a scowl. This was part of their cover story. No one here knew Alan Brash was dead but a lot of people probably wished it on him. The price of Drunken Abbot Ale in the outside world had steadily risen to £25 a half-pint and showed no sign of stopping. Xaphan had somehow managed to generate enough of his essence to turn every barrel into a highly addictive, but untraceable, drug. Addicts either had the money to pay in the outside world and so generate huge amounts of cash for the Brash Empire or they followed the rumours to Drunken Abbot in search of cheap ale.

The question was, of course, what was Xaphan planning to do with hordes of broken down addicts? More to the point, how was he producing enough elixir to scale up production of the ale? Demon essence was passed by blood or saliva – Xaphan should be a dried out husk from supplying thirty or more Drunken Abbot Ale pubs across the north of England?

‘Don't sweat it, lad,’ Cage cut into his thoughts, ‘I’ll take you to watch a fight in the Pit – see what you think about it. You'll see for yourself how easy someone with your skills can smash his way up to be a main-eventer.’ He raised his pint and the fat-faced, grinning monk logo caught the low light. It's eyes glowed ruby-red.

‘No strings – just a look. Okay?’ urged Cage.

A barmaid came over and put a pint in front of Hammer. Violet's hands gripped the table and she screwed her eyes closed.

‘We have to get Violet out of here,’ Miranda said, pushing her chair back. ‘We shouldn’t have brought her so close to this poison.’

Jason gently pushed Violet's Coke over to her. He had ordered the same for all three of them – insisting they open the cans themselves.

‘I'll buy her a proper drink right now – I told you that,’ Cage said, 'it'll stop the cravin' for a bit. It's pricey but my accountant will mark it down as a tax deductible recruitment expense.' He grinned, surprisingly white teeth glinting in the low light. 'Won't you Cage?'

Hammer stopped drinking. ‘Here, have mine,’ he said to Violet, his big features twisting into a mix of pity and concern. ‘I know what it’s like to be in your state.’ He slid his glass in front of her.

Violet’s eyes sprang open and fixed on the ale.

‘No,’ Jason said, snatching the glass away, ‘I told you – she’s trying to cut down.’

‘She’ll never do it,’ Hammer said quietly and took the glass from Jason.

‘We’ll see,’ Miranda said, helping Violet up and leading her quickly towards the steps.

Jason stood up as well but Cage grabbed his arm. Jason raised an eyebrow and Cage softened his grip but still held on.

‘I’m offering you a chance here, lad – something hundreds of the addicts here would bite my hand off for… actually bite it off. You could make a fortune, leave here rich if it goes well with your girl coming off the ale and that.’

Jason nodded slowly. ‘Let me think about it. I’ll see you back here tomorrow night – eight o’clock. Okay?’

Cage grinned. ‘Nice one – try to keep out of trouble 'till then, all right?’

CHAPTER 2

‘So – I am glad you had a nice time,’ Mouse said, his usual baritone Romanian accent rising slightly as Louisa sterilised a two-inch cut along his forearm. ‘While you were having nice drinks in your bar, I was left to fight off big thieves with very long knives who wanted to take our van.’

Jason opened his window to let out the smell of anti-septic liquid. They were driving away from Drunken Abbot, stuck in the steady stream of ale lorries that seemed to head in and out of the valley twenty-four seven now. Coupled with the rag-tag collection of incomer cars and motor bikes, the narrow road was very different from the quiet, private lane of three months earlier.

‘We had a bit of a scrap too, you know…' Jason said, 'and we didn’t have any steel bo-sticks to play with.’

Louisa smiled at Jason then turned back to Mouse and started to wrap Mouse's cut in lint and bandage. ‘Two should stay with the van next time – people here are becoming more desperate and more ale addicts are arriving every day.’

‘Agreed,’ said Dad, turning around in the cab’s passenger seat as Ilena drove them slowly towards their forest road. He glanced around their latest camper van – seats and tables convertible into a double bed and bunks, another double bed alcove above his head, a small kitchen and even a toilet/shower all tucked away neatly at the back. ‘I'd quite like to keep this van in one piece – and Mouse for that matter.’

Mouse grinned. ‘Don't worry about me – I'm all fixed up but my nurse cannot keep her hands off me, it seems.’

Louisa tied off the bandage, ruffled Mouse’s unkempt mop of curly brown hair and sat back. ‘So, we are going to trust this Cage person?’

‘We don’t have a lot of choice, really,’ Dad said.

Jason looked down as Louisa's mouth tightened. This was a sore point. They had been in the valley for almost a week trying to find a way past the fences and into Darkston Village and the Abbey. All the security had been tripled since they had fled the place – a lot more guards, cameras, electrified double fencing and heaven knows what other, hidden defences. They had decided it was too dangerous, even for Louisa, to try to break in.

Louisa didn’t agree, of course.

Plan B was to get inside by becoming involved in the Pit fighting. As Drunken Abbot’s population had expanded, the school fights had apparently taken on a whole new dimension. The Pit was still being used but now adults were fighting each other for serious money and a chance to work for Brash security. However, as the fights were held inside the Darkston Village fences, you had to have a work card and a lot of money to get to see one.

Either that, or be taken in by a fight agent, called a fixer here, as a competitor.

The fight with Bald Billy’s men was Jason’s third attempt to get noticed by a fight fixer. Cage was going to be their ticket inside.

Now they might have half a chance of finding out how Xaphan was producing so much of his essence for the ale. They needed evidence of what Xaphan was doing – enough to shut down the ale production. This was the price they had to pay to prove they were not working with Xaphan to capture Anna Brash and her