“They are getting away!”
“Sting ‘em!”
“Well I would be careful with all that stinging malarkey of I was you.” said a deeper voice from the front of the swarm, “Can get a bit nasty can that.”
“Nasty?” said another voice. “What do you mean?”
“Well if you sting someone it disembowels you.” sniffed another bee. “And that’s not nice that?”
“What’s disembowels?” came a younger voice, followed by a lot of what was apparently the sound of bees whispering.
“Oo.” said the younger bee, “That is nasty!”
“You do it.”
“No You.”
From somewhere at the back of the swarm came another voice.
“Wish I’d been a wasp.”
“Get them!” shouted an angrier voice and the swarm changed direction, following the steam wagon up the road as the vehicle began to increase in speed.
“Keep them in sight!” said another bee, “We can make our mind up what we’re going to do when we catch them up!”
The steam wagon increased in speed, the bees in desperate pursuit as it drew nearer and nearer to Ponty Bodkin.
***
Alice threw on the brakes just above the village green at the centre of Ponty Bodkin. It had been a very quick journey, with Ponty Pushkin being so near, but looking below her and seeing the small gaggle of people gathering about the tall armour clad figure of Clwyd Evans she sighed deeply. The journey was only five miles in distance, but probably a much higher figure if reckoned in years.
“Mah - Peep at all dos villaguhs!” said Cat, “What’s wid da goon in da robes?”
“That’s Demon Hunter Clwyd Evans and I would be very very careful what you say to him.” said Alice. “He’s not a big fan of witches, is Evans.”
“Ah will mind my mofo “P’s” and “Q’s” den. Said Cat, and slowly the broom descended into the centre of the green, some ten feet away from where Evans stood, waiting for the church bells to ring out for noon.
He did not show any sign of recognition as Alice placed the broom onto the floor, Cat jumping down and staying by her feet, smiling evilly at the armour clad shape of Evans, who was looking down his nose at the pair of them, a stern look upon his face.
“Alice.” he said, and Alice gave a rudimentary cackle, looking about the six or seven people who had come to watch the daily ceremony. Alice thought it was about time she did a bit of witching and so she picked the broom up, using it as a walking stick of sorts.
“Peanut Williams.” she said, staring at the now pale faced man with the tray that was now visibly trembling in his hands. “You wouldn’t deny an old lady a few of your sweet leek sticks and some milk would you now?” she said, and Williams shook his head slowly. He walked across the green and more or less gave the contents of his tray to her. She took one swig of the milk before filling the bag that she produced from somewhere under her robes with the leeks. She waved him away and Williams more or less sprinted from the square, disappearing amongst the small houses of the village.
“Master Thorn.” she said, looking at a small man in a wide floppy hat on the far side of the square. “Did the poultice work then?”
He turned bright red in colour and nodded glumly, Alice cackled loudly, ending the strange noise that appeared to be a vague resemblance of laughter. “Never seen anything like it.” she said finally, before turning to face Evans once more who was stood in exactly the same place as he always did, waiting for the church bells to ring.
“What brings you here today then, foul hag of the darkness, old maid of satan's spawn and fiery pitted maiden of doom.”
“Pleased to see you too Evans.” she said, “Slain any demons recently?” Evan’s only response was a deep snarl.
“What brings you to Ponty Bodkin then, old maid?” he said, wishing desperately that the bells would ring for noon. His knees were giving him some serious jip. “Of course if it was up to me my official duties wouldn’t stop at hunting demons and exorcism. I always pushed for a chance to have a go of one of those ducking stools and a couple of them nice long pins. Would be lush would that. I have always enjoyed a nice stake, there’s nice.”
“Well it would seem that you have no jurisdiction over the practitioners of Wicca, Clwyd. In fact all you do seem to be left with these days is a bit of exorcism now that your demon hunting duties have officially been taken from you.
“Hell yes, you tell dat man yes, boss.” said Cat. “He be dangling there like a chime o’ the wind. Yo’ all blow dat man down.”
“What the hell did that mean?” frowned Evans, and if a cat could be said to raise an eyebrow then Cat certainly did.
“No matter.” said Alice. “Here are the midday bells.”
Quietly at first from the church came the peal of bells, striking the hour and Evans breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping as the crowd began to make to disperse once the twelfth bell rang.
“Praise be.” said Evans as Wheelbarrow Jones approached with the wheelbarrow. “Come on, Jones.” said Clwyd, “Get me into the barrow. My knees and back are giving me hell here so they are.”
“Wait.” Said Alice. “It’s not over yet. There are two that approach that are of the type you look for. It is why I am here.”
“What do you mean?” asked Evans, the wheelbarrow tantalisingly close. “Speak plain, hag! I would know your intent!”
“Da man’s sho’ got no way o’ talk.” said Cat but Evans ignored the feline this time.
“There approaches a demon and a girl who has passed yet is reanimated. I have come to warn you of their approach.”
“Demon and shade?” he said, finding that his back pain and weak knees had suddenly disappeared. Alice nodded.
“Where are they?” he shouted, the necklace about his neck beginning to shine brightly. He glanced at it out of the corner of his eye as suddenly there came from the road that entered the village green the sound of an approaching engine. Evans looked in that direction as a small but stately open-topped steam wagon skidded into the square, tyres squealing, grass being torn up as it bumped over the road, narrowly missing the duck pond and then drawing to a halt just in front of the stone cross in front of which was standing Clwyd Evans, fire in his eyes. The crowd in the green did not disperse now. In fact, if anything it seemed to increase in size, villagers appearing on the green as if bidden.
In the front seat of the car sat a tall man, his dark hair tied in a ponytail, his clothes casual but dust stained. He smiled at them brightly as the pretty dark haired woman sat in the seat beside him her face fixed in an expression of horror.
“Excuse me.” said Romney, “But is this the correct road to the village of Ponty Pushkin?”
***
Romney sat staring at the rather odd man in the very peculiar outfit who was in return staring at him as if he had just abducted his favourite sheep. Beside him a small woman with a little ginger cat was staring at him as well. There seemed to be a bit of a crowd gathered as well.
“Is it some sort of village festival?” he whispered out of the corner of his mouth and saw to his surprise that Fanelda seemed to be in a state of shock, her mouth open wide, her eyes blank and staring forward as if she could not quite believe what she was looking at. Nevertheless, she found the strength from somewhere to answer.
“Is it midday?” she asked and Romney consulted his internal clock.
“Yes. Why?”
“Because we are in trouble.” she said, “That man in the armour is Clwyd Evans.”
“The guy in the leather?” he asked, and she nodded. “Bit of a fetish thing going on in the valleys is there?” he laughed.
“He’s the chief demon hunter around here.” she said, “Exorcist too.”
“Demon hunting was ceased with the licensing of séances years ago.” laughed Romney, “Once the harnessing of the circles for data devices began demon enhanced technology became all the rage.”
“Try telling Eva
ns that.” she said, “Unless you hadn’t noticed, the rest of the country is a little way ahead of this part of the world. They only stopped ducking witches here in the last fifty years.”
“Sir.” said Romney, addressing Evans directly. “I take it you are aware that I am a harnessed and bloodbound demon of the third circle of hell. I have an official licence of course which I am more than pleased to show you. I understand perhaps that you may not have a great deal of time with these things but I feel that with…”
Romney suddenly found himself beside the stone cross, the necklace about Romney’s neck glowing brightly. Evans reached up and grabbed him by the throat.
“Cease your lying words, demon, and be still.” he said and the amulet flashed. Romney found himself unable to either move or speak. “I will cast you down and destroy your form soon enough, but first it would appear I have an exorcism to perform.”
In the front of the steam wagon Fanelda squeaked loudly as Evans released Romney and approached the vehicle.
“Come my dear.” he said almost mildly, “Soon I will have you back where you belong.” Fanelda did not move. “Get out of the wagon!” he shouted and Fanelda found herself sliding out of the steam wagon as Evans took her by the hand and led her to stand beside Romney who was still frozen in exactly the same place.
“Clwyd.” said Alice, stepping in front of him. “I know that this is quite probably the most satisfying thing to happen in your line of work for quite some years, but you must desist I am afraid.”
“Desist?’” he shouted, “Are you mad woman? Here I have one possessed and a demon of the third circle by his own admission!”
“Yes.” said Alice, “And a demon these days is not illegal. If you do anything to that creature, then you will bring down the entire government on our heads. The shrivening of an active blood-bound demon on active service would cause a major diplomatic incident. You would have the zeppelin gunships on us before the week is out. The girl is not possessed. The demon has made her corporeal. That is all.”
“I care not for the government.” said Evans, “This is God’s work, and no other. The demon will be shriven, the girl put to rest if need be. I cannot turn my back on these abominations.”
“I thought you might say that.” said Alice, and Romney heard a voice in his head.
“Take them. You know the way.” Oddly, Romney thought the voice sounded just like Alice.
Romney gulped. He could not move. He could not speak. The old man was certainly an out of date fossil, but the equipment he wore worked. It worked very well indeed. It could destroy him easily. Yet there was another way. It was the witch that had helped him to think straight he thought, and so it was her he used, more by instinct than anything. It was a simple swap. He concentrated and then leapt. It was of course a demon’s finest weapon, but one that the new agreement with the circles of hell was actively frowned upon. Still he had no choice.
He followed the witches voice and leapt. He used her message to follow her in her mind and used what he knew as one of man’s greatest fears.
Possession.
The problem was they were all standing quite close together and Romney knew that he was not an expert on possessing someone. In fact, he had rarely done it at all. The second problem was it was (unless you were a complete expert) something of a haphazard procedure. Still, he needed to do something and so he threw himself into the nearest consciousness that he could find.
The first thing he noticed upon taking control of the new body was that as he could see himself now it was obvious that he definitely needed a haircut. In addition, he did seem to be very tall. There was also the small matter of looking forward to a particularly much anticipated piece of fish that very evening.
“Damn dat shit i have possessed tha push saaaaaay haven't I?” said Cat, and Alice looked down at him oddly.
“Are you alright, Cat?” she asked. “Only if you are not feeling too good you may have to have that nice little piece of mackerel I have wrapped up for you in the fridge another night.”
Romney felt Cat rage inside his head at the thought of eating the fish being postponed. He saw Clwyd Evans staring at him, the necklace about his neck crackling with energy, keeping Romney rooted to the spot.
“I be sure I gonna be perfectly fit ta have tha fish, mofo.” said Romney, and feeling he had overstayed his welcome somewhat he jumped again, possessing another person at random. He suddenly felt a lot lighter, and floaty almost, almost as if he was a balloon or the like that was not quite tethered to the ground very well.
“You get out of my head right now, Romney.” Fanelda said, “Or you will be sorry.”
“Apologies.” Fanelda said out loud and Romney jumped again.
“Waxbane and hemlock.” he said, feeling a bit creaky and just vaguely superior.
“Dude has gone n' takin ova yo' naw!” said Cat and Romney saw that the feline was right. “if yo' r' goin' ta stay in there then rememba tonight be fish night.”
Romney looked ahead of him, feeling the witches irritation at his possession. He also knew that he wouldn’t be in her body for long. It was almost as if she was letting him, for he knew that she had the knowledge of how to repel him if she had the desire to do so. So he did not take his time. Clwyd was standing right in front of him, a smug look on his face as he made Alice lean back and with all of her strength he could muster he made her kick out madly, striking Evans directly in the groin.
The Demon Hunter was well armoured, but the armour was strangely thin around the groin area, almost as if an attack by a demon in that particular region was something that was never going to happen. Alice also had a fair bit of vigour about her. Romney saw Clwyd face grow red, his eyes crossing and then he began to slide slowly but surely to the ground, releasing a strange sound that was a cross between a groan and a scream.
“Pweeeeeeeeeeet…” he muttered and crumpled at Alice’s feet. Romney did not waste a second and jumped back to his own body, finding it no longer tethered to the spot. He grabbed Clwyd's necklace and stashed it in his pocket. Then he took hold of Fanelda’s hand, squeezing it as he did so to bring her attention back to him,
“Run!” he shouted, “Back to the steam wagon!” and they released hands again, clambering back into the wagon which emitted a huge gust of steam and shot from the green, heading towards Ponty Pushkin. On the village green the witch looked down morosely at the form of the toppled demon hunter who was lying on the grass clutching his groin.
“Sorry Clwyd.” said Alice, “Possession. You know how it is.”
“I don’t actually.” He groaned from the floor. “Also the demon has stolen my amulet. Without it I cannot compel him. We must give chase.”
“Oh just get your breath back first.” said Alice soothingly, “No rush really.”
“Poor bastard be probably still hearin' bells sho a’ ringin'!” said Cat and Alice nodded in agreement.
***
And in the darkness of the cellar Victoria dreams…
She is in front of the mirror. She is naked, and her body reveals the scars of the augmentations that the government have forced upon her. The room is in darkness except for the light of a candle that is lit and whickering in a slight breeze from a partially open window to her side, the drapes billowing in the night air. She shivers. Yet she is not cold.
“They have made me ugly.” she says without speaking.
“No.” says Romney. “They have made you more than you were, and you have beat them. Their airship that would have killed millions lies at the bottom of the English Channel.”
“They hurt me, Romney. There was no need for them to do that. I did nothing to bring myself to their attention.”
Below in the street a steam wagon hisses and boils as it drives past, and then the sound is swallowed by the night; lost forever.
“I will never bear children,” she says, still not moving at all.
“I know.” says Romney, but says nothing more.
Silently at first sh
e begins to cry and then folds herself down onto the floor, sobs racking her body, and the night comes in through the open window, the curtain unfurls and the night takes her, and in the darkness of the cellar Victoria dreams…
***
Viktor looked down at the floor where the older gentleman, who was the penultimate candidate for the job of manservant, had placed his large bag when he had first entered. He was immaculately dressed, and had a sense of urgency or fervour about him. Viktor was not quite sure but he thought that he saw several long bits of wood sticking from the end of the bag, and what may very well have been the end of the handle of a large wooden mallet.
“So, Mister Helsing.” said Viktor and the man nodded fervently, watching Viktor’s every move. “why do you vant to be a manservant? The hours are long, the work is hard and ze pay is not so good. There are also of course the frequent beatings.”
“Oh I don’t expect you have to fear any beatings or violence from me.” said Helsing, Viktor raising an eyebrow as the smart looking man continued, catching his eyes as he did so. It really was quite disconcerting. “Also I keep infrequent hours, always coming and going. You know how it is.”
“Indeed.” said Viktor, beginning to feel that he was taking part in a conversation that only one of them knew what it was really about. The primary problem was that the person who actually knew what they were talking about was not him.
“Tell me. Do you have a cellar?” said Helsing.
For some reason that he could not quite put a finger on Viktor shook his head.
“No cellar.” he said and Helsing looked surprised.
“Are you sure?” He said.
“Quite sure.” lied Viktor. “I think I vould av noticed if zer vas.”
“Well perhaps a few acoustic soundings would be useful once I commence employment. Perhaps I could see the accommodation now? I did like to set my things out before I start.”
“Start?” said Viktor weakly.
“Yes, I expect the wage to be sufficient for my…” Helsing came to a sudden stop as Mister Tibbs walked in, purring gently. It was a simulated purr - after all, the cat was made of metal and definitely needed oiling, a job that Viktor had been trying to get round to for at least three weeks now, but so far he had not quite found the time somehow.
The Complete Adventures of Victoria Neaves & Romney Page 29
