Demon 4- God Squad 0

by David Dwan

  Dexter lifted his face up to the surrounding crowd who as one gazed on like loving disciples, hanging on his every syllable. “You know, people ask me if Mister Minx is real? And I’m sure there are even those amongst the crowd here tonight and the countless thousands watching at home who doubt his existence.”

  Dexter smiled wryly and shook his head. “They think this is all just some elaborate magic show.” He let his head bow until his chin was almost touching his chest.

  A beat then he added softly. “Shall we see?”

  “Behold!!” He shouted and the flood lights hit the house from two sides to reveal it in all its theatrical nightmarish glory.

  “YEEESSS!!” The crowd screamed in unison. The word stretched out to the very limits of their breath until after an age it slowly died down and hot on its heels a chant began.

  Starting in low with just a few voices at first but soon it grew into a crescendo of adulation. Two words over and over, louder and louder. “Mister Minx, Mister Minx.”

  The live feed cut to the remote cameras in the house, switching from one to the other looking for the creature.

  This played out on the main screen above the arena, much to the delight of the assembled masses.

  “C’mon,” Miller hissed through his teeth as he studied the shots. “Where is the little shit?” He tapped a button on his console which cut between the cameras inside the house.

  “He’s in there,” Davis assured him.

  Then a dark shape flitted past the screen and was gone by the time the remote camera whip panned to try catch it again.

  The crowd outside fair shrieked at the brief appearance. And continued chanting their hero’s name.

  Davis had been so wrapped up in the action on screen and the crowd’s perfect reaction that he lost track of what Dexter was doing. He looked back out of the window and down into the field below and nearly cried out in horror.

  “What the hell is he doing?” Davis uttered.

  Miller glanced at his boss then at one of the other camera shots. “Christ, cut to camera three!” He tapped the controls and the shot of Dexter came onto the screen. “Stay with him, stay with him, pull out a bit so you get the house in shot as well.”

  Dexter was within fifteen feet of the house’s rickety off kilter front porch now, way closer than he had ever been before.

  Seeing the shot of Dexter sauntering towards the house on the main screen, the crowd hushed somewhat. It was clear Dexter sensed this as he smiled to himself and then spun on his heal to face them once more.

  He was now at the very edge of the porch steps. “Shall we pay Mister Minx a visit before we start the show?”

  Davis felt the sweat freeze on his skin. “You fucking idiot,” he breathed. “I hope he fucking drags you inside.” The thought actually made him smile. How about that for a ratings winner?

  Outside the crowd was baying its approval so Dexter turned and theatrically placed his foot on the porch. He paused like a soldier stepping into a mine field then as if satisficed he wasn’t going to lose a leg, he took another step so he was now standing with both feet on the porch. He bounced up and down testing its strength.

  Miller cut to a camera above the door facing outwards and Davis got the satisfaction of seeing a flash of doubt cross the host’s powdered face as he glanced at the door ahead of him.

  The noise from the crowd dropped to one of hushed anticipation as he took another step, then another up the creaking porch and over towards the closed front door.

  “Mister Minx?” Dexter taunted in a high voice. “Oh Mister Minx are you there?”

  Dexter’s foot caught something and he looked down to see a row of charms nailed across the bottom of the door. He tentatively towed one with the tip of an expensive Italian shoe.

  “What the fuck is he doing?” Someone said behind Davis. “Did you know he was going to do this?”

  Davis shook his head but couldn’t take his eyes off the figure by the door.

  The camera zoomed in on the charms as Dexter gently kicked one again.

  “No, no, no,” Davis whispered terrified now. Didn’t the idiot know what he was toying with? He felt the sudden urge to tell Miller to cut the feed. His mind desperately searched for an excuse to re-set the whole event.

  Maybe he could blame technical difficulties, anything to stop the fool meddling with forces he didn’t understand. Powerful magic that was the only thing keeping Minx trapped inside that house.

  It would be scant consolation seeing Dexter torn to shreds if Minx got out. Because Davis knew there would be only one direction Minx would go in, full tilt. His direction.

  At this he glanced behind him and was reassured somewhat to see Nico Gorodetsky standing at the back of the production office, arms folded quietly watching proceedings. The Russian caught Davis’ gaze and nodded slightly.

  Back at the house Dexter ran his foot over the charms and then made his way almost on tip-toes over to the window at the side of the front door. Where he ran a hand now over the charms nailed to the frame.

  Dexter looked over his shoulder to crowd and camera alike. “What say you we take these off and let our friend stretch his legs a little?” He ran his hands over the charms again.

  A ripple of nervous laughter swept through the crowd.

  Davis nearly pissed his trousers as he thought he saw one of the charms move under Dexter’s light touch.

  “Stop him,” Davis found himself saying. “This is enough, stop the show. Cut to commercial or whatever the hell it is you do.” He was aware of the audible fear in his voice.

  “Nar, this is gold,” Miller said and cut to a panning shot of the transfixed audience.

  “I said...” Davis snapped and turned to Miller. He stopped mid-sentence. Everyone in the room was staring at him open mouthed. He had always carried himself with an air of confidence around the production crew, who all knew it was he who was in charge. They had clearly never seen even the hint of weakness in him before and it had stunned them.

  “It’s okay Boss,” his ever present assistant Tiff said meekly. She took an uneasy step towards him but thought better of it as he turned to look at her. It was clear from the shock on her face and the way she clutched her IPad to her chest that his eyes, like his voice, betrayed his growing fear.

  “It’s all part of the show, right?” Tiff added uncertainly.

  “Christ, now what’s he doing?” Miller said.

  Everyone looked to the main monitor. Dexter was peering in through the grubby glass of the window. He cupped his hands around his eyes to get a better look.

  Some people in the crowd were actually standing as if trying to get a better view.

  “Mister...” Dexter suddenly leapt back with an undignified yelp (which the crowd instantly mirrored) as Minx’s twisted face slammed into the (thankfully) reinforced glass of the window right in front of him.

  Much to his credit, Dex Dexter resisted fleeing the porch for the relative safety of the stage but instead, ever the professional, turned to the crowd and clasped his right hand over his heart with all the exaggeration of as silent horror movie star. “Mother!” He said.

  The crowd erupted into shrieks of relieved laughter and began to rapidly applaud.

  “Fuckwit,” Davis said and could feel the vein in his temple throbbing alarmingly. He glanced at the main monitor but instantly looked away, Mister Minx’s face leered out through the dirty window as if it was feeding on the sheer energy coming off the crowd.

  The shot played out of the large screen in the arena as it did in countless homes across the globe.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you. Mister Minx!” Dexter announced with a wave of the hand back to the house.

  “Mister Minx, Mister Minx!” the crowd was in rapture.

  And despite everything Davis had to admit this was the best opening to a show ever, even if his reputation with the crew as a hard ass had taken a hit.

  As if to compensate he barked; “Okay, okay, stop gawping, we
have a show to run. Get the priest in position. Let’s get this thing moving!”

  He took a little satisfaction from the startled look on the faces of those around him as they snapped to attention and began hurrying around to prepare for the main event.

  THIRTY-TWO

  The production assistant next to Father Ross cocked his head to one side as he listened to the incoming instructions through his headset. He nodded. “Understood.”

  The assistant then turned to the priest and his surrounding zombie entourage. “It’s show time Father,” he said and gestured with his IPad towards the back of the main grandstand were Ross could see a camera crew was waiting no doubt to accompany him out into the arena.

  The Canadian girl slipped her arm through Ross’ once more. “Just stick with me, Father,” she said with genuine warmth.

  ‘Showtime,’ Ross thought to himself as he was led over to the edge of the arena. Up ahead he could see the rest of the demonettes going through a complicated dance number to the accompaniment of a vaguely familiar heavy metal song which was blasting out of the massive PA as a steady cam operator weaved deftly amongst them.

  He glanced to his right as they walked to see an ambulance parked out of the way amongst half a dozen production trucks and vans. Two Paramedics (God he hoped they were real and not just two more performers) were lent against the vehicle sharing a cigarette.

  One of them looked up and smiled somewhat embarrassed seeing the priest staring back. He half-heartedly waved and then made great play of studying the stethoscope hung loosely around his neck.

  ‘See you soon,’ Ross thought gravely.

  It was strange, but as they finally got to their mark where the camera crew were waiting and Ross could see the show playing out in front of him in greater, theatrical detail. It actually made him feel better.

  Despite everything he had learnt over the past weeks. Seeing all the behind the scenes artifice of the show and the all too real sweat on the performers faces of demon time up close. He allowed himself to entertain the thought that it might all still be okay.

  Minx was real, of that there was no doubt. But would they really let the creature, which he had to admit had been emasculated to the point of parody by Hauser’s tricks and charms. Hurt, even kill him?

  Ross thought back as they stood there waiting for whatever cue would signal his arrival into this circus. Wasn’t it true that in all the shows he had seen, the priests involved had never actually been hurt by Minx? Not physically at least. Had they?

  He racked his brains and ran through each show in his head. There had been injuries, that was for sure. But these were only truly self-inflicted as they tore and beat themselves trying to rid themselves of the nightmares Minx induced. That and of course the rapid, blind panic driven exits they endured at the end.

  One he recalled had even dived out of a top floor window. Which had taken no little effort as they were obviously reinforced to help keep the demon in.

  The young priest glanced down at the bible grasped tightly in his hand and decided then and there that he wasn’t going to play this game by Michael Davis’ twisted rules. He had far too much respect for the book and more so for what it represented.

  And with that, a great sense of calm came over him. He could finally see how he could take control of the events unfolding in front of him. He was mentally strong, and even more advantageous than that was the fact he had knowledge of Minx being all too real. And the name of the one man who had been the author of his current incarceration and humiliation. Karl Hauser.

  The creature couldn’t possibly know the German hadn’t been able to impart some all-conquering wisdom to him during their brief time together in Mexico. For all Minx knew he could kill the thing with a simple phrase. If that was how things worked in this strange new world he now found himself in of course.

  Besides, it was clear from the brief glimpse one got of the creature from show to show that it was getting frailer by the episode. Cooped up and humiliated as it was, unable to fulfil its one and only raison d’etre. To make Michael Davis suffer. And not how it had turned out, the other way around.

  And of course, if push came to shove, Ross was more than prepared to beat the crap out of the abomination with his bare hands, live on the internet, if that’s what it took to put an end to this whole travesty.

  Ross had been so lost in his new found hope that he hadn’t notice the music and stage show had come to an end. He was literally pulled back into reality by a tug on his arm from the Canadian girl who along with her three deathly made up colleagues had begun to lead him out from behind the packed grand stand and into the arena itself.

  They were greeted by a massive ‘whoop’ from the crowd as he was hit with a bright spotlight, blinding him for a moment as they walked slowly across the grass and towards the low stage, where Dex Dexter was waiting flanked at either side by five demonettes waving black pom-poms in time with the new music blaring from the P.A.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Dexter announced. “I give you, Father Shane Ross!”

  This was greeted by a mixture of cheers and boos from the crowd as they finally reached the stage.

  “Off you go, Father,” the Canadian cheerleader said as she ushered him up on the stage. “Bon chance,” and with that she and the other three made their exit whilst waving enthusiastically to the crowd. A moment later they were joined by the rest of the undead troupe leaving the two men alone on stage.

  Dex Dexter was at Ross’ side in an instant and moved him effortlessly to a taped cross in the middle of the stage, where he was once more hit by a bright follow spot coming from high up on a lighting gantry situated behind the main stand.

  Dexter put an arm around the priest and the two of them stood there soaking up the crowd’s reaction. And after what seemed like a full five minutes to the priest the crowd finally began to quieten down.

  As they stood there, Michael Davis studied the priest from his elevated vantage point. There was something about the young man’s demeanour he didn’t like. Although he couldn’t quite put his finger on just what it was.

  “Another cocky one,” Tiff said and moved to his side.

  Was that it? Davis wondered. The priest didn’t seem at all fazed by the upcoming clash with Minx or by the crowd and assorted cameras around him. Not that that was anything new, most of the others had gone in with an air of self-righteousness about them. All eager to crash head long towards the vindication they so desperately craved.

  “Yeah,” he said but it was something more.

  “Minx will soon put a stop to that,” one of the others said with smug edge to their voice.

  Let’s hope so, Davis thought but kept it to himself.

  “Well Father,” Dexter said and squeezed Ross’ shoulder. “That was quite the reaction.” He took a look at the priest. “I must say, you do look confident.” He tapped the bible in Ross’ hand with his microphone. “So what tricks do you have up your sleeve? Does it have anything in the good book for what you are about to receive? Must admit I’ve never read the thing myself. Not enough pictures for me.”

  This won him a few muted titters from the crowd.

  “C’mon, Father. What have you got planned?”

  “Can you keep a secret?” Ross asked him, his voice calm.

  Dexter pulled him closer. “Sure, after all it’s just you and me,” he said conspiratorially and gave an exaggerated wink to the crowd.

  “Well Dex,” Ross said but addressed the grandstand. “To be quite honest, I’m here to shut this shit down.”

  This won a condescending ‘oooohh!’ from the audience.

  Dexter laughed. “Well I have to admit I admire your confidence, Father. But I do seem to remember your four predecessors felt the same way. Before going into the house that is,” he threw a thumb over his shoulder.

  Ross shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. He could feel the house and it’s occupant behind him like a physical presence. He had to concentrate on keeping the dark t
houghts of what he might find inside to the back of his mind.

  “That may very well be true,” Ross said. “But I know what scares that thing.”

  Again the crowd let out an “ooohhh.”

  “Well, well, Father,” Dexter said. He tapped the bible yet again. “All in there I guess? You must have rock solid faith in your God is all I can say.”

  Ross shook his head and gently pushed the bible into Dexter’s stomach. A little taken aback the host inadvertently took a hold of it.

  “Keep it,” Ross told him. “As a wise man once told me. Sometimes faith isn’t enough.”

  Dexter grasped the book awkwardly nearly dropping it. He seemed a little flustered by this turn of events, but no sooner had he realised that he turned on the charm once more.

  “A brave man indeed,” the host said. “Ladies and gentlemen. What do you say we get this show on the road?”

  The crowd roared its approval.

  Dexter was about to manoeuvre Ross towards the house then the priest pulled away. He turned to look directly into the nearest camera, and was rewarded by seeing a red light above the lens go on. He gave a smile as he stared down the barrel of the camera.

  Up in the production office, Michael Davis turned to look at the live feed. The priest seemed to be staring directly at him.

  This was confirmed then Ross said. “Oh, and by the way. I have a message for Michael Davis.”

  There was an audible gasp from the others around Davis.

  The priest smiled ever so slightly. It was a knowing smile and it scared Davis almost as much as the creature did.

  “Karl Hauser says hi.”

  Fuck. Davis mind began to whirl, shock clouded his thoughts. He half tried to tell Miller to cut the feed, to stop the show as something was terribly wrong here. But all he could do was mumble something even he didn’t catch.

  “Oookay,” Dexter said uncomprehending. And was about to speak again when an unholy shriek came from inside the house.

  “HAUSER!!!!” Minx screeched.