by Mark Ayre
The man stopped laughing. Continued to groan. He didn’t speak. Amira didn’t continue because she could tell he was trying to talk, building up to something.
At last, he forced it out. “Can’t… kill. Not… why… laugh.”
“Why then?” said Amira.
That retching noise again. The laughter. The dirt on which the dying infected lay had sunk so low he was almost beneath ground level. More and more of his body disappeared. Still, he managed to laugh.
“Why?” Amira repeated.
“Today,” the man managed at last. With his one good eye, he managed to meet Amira’s gaze. “Greatest of… her… kind… comes today.”
Trey felt his legs buckle but managed to stay upright. His heart rate rose, and the urge to be sick was almost unbeatable. As though the dying infected had risen and was coming, Trey took two steps back.
As ever the optime of calm, Amira did not move, nor show any reaction that this news shocked or worried her.
“Okay,” she said to the dying man. “Last question.”
Dropping to her haunches, leaning over the man, Amira ensured he was listening before speaking again. Her question was simple—only one word.
To the melting infected, she said: “Where?”
Nineteen
In a layby, forty miles outside of the city where Trey had been born to his mother, raised by a fleet of nannies and servants, and tormented by his siblings, his father’s favourite employee, and his father, Mercury bed down in her car and got what sleep she could. If she were to destroy Heidi, she would need at least a little rest.
With the sun, she rose. Forty-five minutes after leaving the layby, she parked on an unassuming street two miles from her target, Michaels manor, which loomed large in the distance. It took her only ten minutes to reach the estate boundary, and only ten seconds to breach the fence and get inside.
Exotic plants, statues, water features, topiary, and a hedge maze that looked as though it might stretch into eternity littered the landscape. Mercury saw no signs of life from where she stood to the patio at the back of the mansion, nor behind any of the hundreds of windows set along the house’s back wall.
Protected by her host body’s extreme wealth, Heidi had for several weeks been free to do as she pleased. Had she wanted, she could have created tens of possessed allies and countless infected devotees. Around her mansion, she could have stationed an army so well equipped that the country’s entire armed forces would have struggled to reach the front door. Mercury, alone and with a knife as her only weapon, would not have stood a chance.
No army was in evidence. Mercury doubted Heidi had created more than the single possessed she, Mercury, had already met. There would be far more infected but not as many as Heidi could have made, had she the mind.
Mercury got the impression Heidi was a loner. She created only the followers and allies she needed to get the job done. Her only enemies were three humans. Though Mercury, Amira and Trey had all caused Heidi problems. Though she had pursued them with some vigour over the previous weeks, Mercury believed Heidi still rated herself to kill them in a direct confrontation. She thus would have worried little about personal security.
Mercury hoped both that she was right, and that she could prove Heidi’s decision in this regard had been ill-judged.
Whatever the case, this was a suicide mission. Of that, Mercury had no doubt. Such knowledge inspired neither fear nor indecision. A calm had washed over her: it would be over soon. That was all that mattered.
To reach the back of the mansion, Mercury could have sprinted from one garden feature to the next, ducking behind each to buy herself several seconds of invisibility every hundred paces on her way. Even doing so, she would spend long enough out of cover to draw attention, and perhaps more so because of her sprinting and diving approach. With this in mind, she left the perimeter of the estate grounds and strolled towards the French doors as though Heidi, Olivia to those out of the know, was expecting her.
It took a long time to reach the patio. Beautiful though the garden was, Mercury was not in the frame of mind to enjoy the aesthetic. Besides, her last walk amongst nature, during which she had been stabbed and imbued with a monster, had forever put her off such strolls.
Crossing the patio, she reached the French doors. Locked. Through crystal clear glass panes was visible an open tiled area that looked disused for anything other than an entry point to the house. Possibly the tiles were booby traps. Upon stepping on one, she would feel it compress, and spikes would shoot from the wall, impaling her legs, torso, and brain.
Twisting the handle, Mercury employed her enhanced strength, leftover from Heidi’s possession, and yanked, hearing the bolt snap before the door swung open. Glancing at the tiles again, she hesitated only a second before stepping into the mansion. Ref the booby traps, she would take the risk.
The house was quiet but not silent. Somewhere above, there was movement. Mercury was not alone.
Whether that movement was the result of maids and cooks going about their daily business, or Heidi pacing the halls waiting for a hero to slay her like the monster she was, Mercury did not know. There was only one way to find out.
Taking the same approach as she had when crossing the grounds, Mercury strolled across the room as though she belonged, opening the door at the end and releasing herself into a corridor.
From the corridor, she entered another empty room and from there into another corridor.
Moving on, towards footsteps and muffled voices, Mercury soon found herself in what appeared to be a function room. Against the walls stood stacks of tables and chairs ready for the next event. In one corner was a bar behind which could stand at least two, and possibly three, bartenders. Presently it was unstaffed; the rows of alcohol unprotected. Given Mercury’s tension, this was an opportunity too inviting to miss.
Crossing the function room, Mercury stepped behind the bar and sought a glass from beneath, quickly locating a crystal tumbler. From the rows of bottles, she located what was no doubt an obscenely expensive whiskey, and poured herself a shallow glass.
While behind the bar, Mercury could see the room’s three entry points. The small, single door through which she had arrived, swing doors which seemed to lead into an industrial kitchen, and grand double doors which no doubt stood wide to admit guests whenever the Michaels family used the room for its intended purpose.
Not far away, footsteps and muttering. Mercury had no idea if she might soon receive a visitor. In case, she checked for her blade, which was at her waist, and grabbed her tumbler, draining the whiskey in one.
Sharp, intense, it burned her throat like acid on its way down, reminding Mercury why she was more partial to a glass of wine than she was to one of whiskey. There was plenty of wine on either side of her. She could have taken her pick. Despite this, she poured another whiskey, draining this as well.
As she was pouring her third glass, wondering at what point Dutch courage became English drunkenness, she again heard footsteps, and this time discerned they were coming her way. Holding her focus on this mystery person, she twisted the cap onto the whiskey and replaced the bottle on the shelves behind where she stood. The third tumbler’s worth she collected in a fist but did not immediately drink.
Seconds later, a short, plump woman, in plain black clothes, her grey hair tied into a bun, appeared through the grand double doors. Although she was missing the white apron, she reminded Mercury of Nanny from Disney’s 101 Dalmatians.
Focused as she was on whatever task had brought her to the function room, Nanny did not at once notice the intruder behind the bar. When she did, she spun on her heel and squeaked surprise.
“Who are you?” she said. “How did you get in here?”
Mercury still held her whiskey. She delayed answering not to give herself a chance to come up with an excuse, for she already knew what to say, but to see if she could discern what Nanny was—ordinary house staff with no idea who she was serving, infected, or possessed
. At a glance, it was impossible to tell.
“I’m a friend of Trey’s,” Mercury supplied. Ignoring the second question, she said, “I’m here to see his mother, Heidi Michaels.”
Not to be brushed off, Nanny said, “And how did you get in?”
“Trey gave me a key.”
This lie was a risk. There was a chance Heidi had changed the locks upon moving into the estate. Given the number of doors and the effort this would have taken, Mercury rode her luck that they remained as they had when Olivia Michaels were alive.
Nanny seemed to be assessing Mercury, who got the impression the staff member did not believe the key story, but also would not question it.
“If Trey would like to speak with his mother,” she said at last, “he is welcome back at any time. He need not send intermediaries.”
Mercury shrugged, drained her whiskey. “I don’t know what you know about the family—“
“I have worked for the Michaels’ nearly ten years,” Nanny bristled. “There is nothing I don’t know.”
“Except for your paymaster’s name,” Mercury suggested.
Nanny opened her mouth, looked flustered again, then forced out, “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I said I was here to see Heidi Michaels, but that isn’t right, is it? Trey’s mother is named Olivia Michaels. Slip of the tongue on my part. I’m surprised you didn’t correct me.”
Nanny’s face burned not with embarrassment but anger. Anger at Mercury, but also at herself for being caught out.
“I didn’t notice,” she said. “I thought you said Olivia. Whatever the case, it doesn’t matter. If Trey wants to speak with his mother, about whatever issues he might have, I suggest he comes himself and via the front door. He has no need to send friends to break in and sneak around.”
“I didn’t break-in. I said I have a key,” said Mercury.
“But you’re lying.”
“Oh yes, like you were about mishearing me when I said Heidi.”
Having stumped Nanny, Mercury lowered her tumbler and came around the bar. Nanny’s eyes went to Mercury’s waist and to her jacket, no doubt seeking a weapon. Mercury’s blade wasn’t visible to Nanny but was in easy reach of its owner.
“I’d like to see Mrs Michaels,” said Mercury.
“And I’d never take you to her,” said Nanny. “Even I wanted to. I couldn’t. Mrs Michaels is out.”
“Is she?” said Mercury. “Or is that another lie?”
“I suggest you leave,” said Nanny.
“Can’t,” said Mercury. “Not yet. There are things I need to know.”
“Like what?”
“Where your mistress is for a start.” Mercury considered, looked Nanny up and down. “I don’t think you’re a possessed, which is reassuring. In my experience, the possessed like to display their power. They couldn’t hold this act as long as you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Except that you do. You’re infected, aren’t you? It’s far less common for Heidi to infect women, but that’s okay. Must make you feel special.”
“I’m calling the police.”
Nanny turned. As she did, Mercury swept across the room and grabbed the startled woman by the throat from behind. Drawing her blade, she held it before Nanny’s eyes.
“Tell me where I can find Heidi.”
“You’re threatening my life,” said Nanny.
“An astute observation. Last night I threatened the lives of several Heidi devotees. When they didn’t do as I asked, I killed them. Did you hear about that? I slaughtered them like pigs, and I’ll do the same to you.”
“You’re evil.”
“It’s you who’s working for evil. You’re the problem.”
Mercury’s hand was beginning to shake. She couldn’t lower the knife because it was a powerful image. If anything were going to make Nanny talk, it would be this. But in mentioning her slaughter, she had brought the memories back full force. Now she watched herself killing those men who had stood against her. How ruthless she had been. How monstrous.
“Tell me where Heidi is,” she said, determined to get through this.
“I don’t know.”
Nanny was sobbing. Were anyone to walk in who knew not of Heidi and her evil ways, how would this scene look? A young, lithe woman with wild hair and steel eyes holding a blade to an innocent, plump, older woman who resembled a character from a Disney cartoon.
They would assume Mercury was the villain; cruel, sick, twisted. Would they be far wrong?
“You have three seconds,” she said to Nanny, talking over her fear, “before I begin to cut.”
Still shaking her head, still sobbing, Nanny said, “Everyone knows she’s not the Olivia she once was; that she calls herself Heidi, but I don’t know anything of her plans. She left earlier with almost all of the staff, and several others we don’t know. Those that are left, we don’t know anything, except something’s not right. Please, please, I don’t know anything.”
More and more, the knife was shaking. What if Nanny was speaking true? What if she wasn’t part of Heidi’s little game?
It made Mercury sick to carry on, but she had to be sure.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “If you’re telling the truth, I’ll hate myself forever, but I need to know where she is.”
“What are you doing?”
Mercury had released Nanny’s throat. Before the baffled lady could flee, Mercury grabbed and dragged her to the bar. Here she slammed the maid’s hand where before had sat the whiskey tumbler. Holding Nanny’s arm with one hand, Mercury raised the knife with the other.
“I’m going to take off your hand,” said Mercury. “Then I’ll ask again: where’s Heidi.”
Nanny’s eyes widened, she stared with horror at Mercury as Mercury fixed her eyes on her victim’s wrist, fixed her determination on the task.
“Please,” said Nanny. “Please don’t do this.”
“It’s the only way.”
She pulled the knife higher. Began to rush it towards its target.
“Wait,” Nanny almost screamed. Mercury somehow managed to stop her swing with the blade an inch from flesh and bone.
“I know where Heidi’s gone. I know where she’s gone. Please, don’t take my hand. I know where they’ve gone.”
“Tell me.”
Mercury couldn’t look at her victim. Instead, she stared at the bottles behind the bar. She held that frail arm and tried to imagine it as something it was not, the tentacle or claw of a monster.
“A new development Mrs Michaels purchased. I can give you the address. Once you’re on the street, you can’t miss it. Biggest building around, and under construction.”
“Go on then.”
Nanny stared at her hand a moment. When she realised Mercury wouldn’t let go, she spilt the address. Mercury didn’t write it down but committed the street to memory.
As soon as she had done so, she lowered the blade and slid it across the back of Nanny’s hand. Then she let go.
She had to know.
Nanny fell, crumbled as though someone had cast a spell to remove her bones. On the floor, she clutched her bleeding hand, curled into a ball, and sobbed.
“Monster,” she whispered. “Monster, monster, monster.”
Blood trickled from where Mercury had drawn the blade. It rolled down Nanny’s arm and dripped to the floor. Steam did not rise, flesh did not burn. The blood was uncontaminated.
Nanny was human.
“Monster, monster. Evil, vile monster.”
“I’m sorry,” said Mercury. “I had to.”
“Monster, monster, monster, monster.”
Nanny was a wreck, from the foetal position, she continued to whisper but took no more notice of Mercury. No more notice of the monster.
“I’m sorry,” Mercury said again.
Before she could crumple herself, before she could tumble into madness and despair as apparently had Nanny, she turned from her vict
im and fled Michaels manor as fast as her trembling legs could carry her.
Twenty
Not long after her second, more palatable breakfast, Benny visited again.
“Come on,” he said. “Time to go.”
The previous night, after knocking Liam unconscious, Benny had bundled his victim into the back of his van and dragged Sam into the passenger seat. They’d driven to a building site. Sam expected Benny to dump Liam inside then return to take her home. Instead, he’d dropped the bombshell that they’d be staying the night.
Back still aching from the camp bed, Sam followed Benny out of her cell and through a warren of corridors. One day in the not too distant future, this hull would become luxury apartments. She guessed the property developers had no idea for what their project was currently being used.
“There’s no need to worry,” Benny said, glancing back. “No one knows what you almost did. If we help them complete their little mission, we’ll be on our way, and we’ll be set. Trust me, this’ll change everything for us.”
Unable to pry Liam from her mind, to forget how he might because of her suffer, Sam said nothing. She wanted to turn and scream and run. In silence, she followed her brother up more stairs, through more corridors, until they reached an unassuming, blue wooden door, and stepped inside.
Beyond the door; a space which might soon be an open plan living area. For now, there was dust on the floor and tools in one corner of the room. Two fold-up metal chairs had clearly not been left by the construction works. Open in the centre of the room, they were occupied by a man and a woman.
“We’re here,” declared Benny, as though this was not obvious.
Sam’s dress was scrunched and wrinkled from a night on the camp bed, was flecked with bean juice and presumably held the whiff of vomit from Benny’s first attempt at breakfast. Despite this, the man in the metal chair stared at Sam with unconfined lust, as though she were a runway model in nothing but the skimpiest lingerie.
From the other chair, the woman rose. Tall, beautiful, classy, she commanded even this dirty, barren space in which she seemed not to belong. Her heels clacked off the floor as she crossed to Benny, cupped the back of his neck, and stared into his eyes.
