by Mark Ayre
The man screamed. The woman said, “Thanks, Amira,” and elbowed the man on her other side in the face.
Quincy had regained focus. As he growled, the freed woman lashed out. He shifted his weight to dodge the blow and succeeded, but in doing so allowed Amira to shove his foot off and spring to her feet.
Someone grabbed the previously free woman as she tried to escape.
“Liz,” Amira shouted, then pointed at Will. “We could use a battering ram, mate.”
Her words drew attention to Will. Those who had started to come for him moved again. Amira’s words froze him. A battering ram?
He stepped back, hit his car, and understood.
Amira swung her blade. She sliced someone’s chest and dived clear. Blood spurted across two more people, and all three began to scream. Immediately, Will could smell burning flesh.
Will’s pursuers began to run. He dived back and jumped into his car, slamming the door and hitting central locking. His keys were in the ignition. Twisting them, the engine fired into life.
His pursuers arrived. One began to smack the window. The other slammed the bonnet with open palms again and again and again.
Will reversed.
The man banging his window spun and fell to the ground. He on the bonnet was dragged forward, smacked his face on the car’s grille and went to the concrete with a cry of frustration.
Will smashed into a pilon. He wasn’t wearing a seatbelt and hit his face on the wheel. Pain shot through his nose, into his head.
Another of Quincy’s madmen charged, leapt onto the bonnet, and began stamping on the windscreen.
Stunned, Will stared at the thick boot.
Crack. Like a thunderbolt through the sky, a line appeared along the glass. The grinning face of the mad man stared at Will.
Who took the car out of reverse. Another crack appeared.
The stamper laughed, then yelped as his ankles disappeared from beneath him and he flew towards the cracked screen.
His arms came up. Another crack appeared, and the whole screen creaked but didn’t break.
Amira, who had swept his feet, gave another tug and he disappeared. She came around and knocked on the passenger side front window.
Although he didn’t know her, Will felt compelled to hit central locking again. As soon as she was in the seat beside him, he locked them in once more.
“Right, let’s go,” she said.
“I can’t.”
Amira looked to Liz, who smacked another woman and dived over a bleeding body before being grabbed by a furious Quincy. Five people were down by the gates, three more around Will’s car. Half were bleeding badly. As their blood spread, so did the circle. All knew the risk of that sizzling blood touching their skin.
Quincy stepped over a puddle, lifting Liz with him. Arriving by a man with long, greasy hair, he chucked his prisoner over and pointed at the car.
Amira pressed a button to her left. Her window rolled down an inch.
Quincy said, “Out, now, or we kill her.”
“Doubt it,” called Amira, “Heidi said she’s to be released. She won’t be happy if you disobey.”
She turned to Will. “They won’t kill Liz. We can leave.”
“I don’t care about her,” said Will.
“Rude.”
Will ignored her. Amira followed his eye line and caught sight of Gina, who stood out of reach of the blood, staring at the car.
Quincy noticed too.
Clicking his fingers, he called to her. “Come here.”
As though on a string, Gina came, stopping on the other side of Mr Greasy and Liz, the latter of whom looked both frustrated and a little bored.
“Bring me Amira,” said Quincy to Will, “And your wife will go with you, quietly. Won’t you, Gina.”
“Whatever you command, Quin,” she said.
“Well, that’s heartwarming,” said Amira. “Don’t do it.”
Will had the wheel clutched in his hands. His food idled on the pedal. The whole car vibrated and growled, waiting to be put into action. Everyone was still. Everyone was watching. It was he who would decide what happened next.
“That’s the love of my life,” he said. “More than that, she’s the mother of my daughter.”
“Then I’m sorry for your loss,” said Amira.
“No,” said Will, and thumped the wheel. “I’ve not lost her. I won’t lose her. If I can see her, I can save her.”
“Not without me,” said Amira, her voice low to prevent those outside overhearing.
He stared at her. “What?”
“A demon possessed my friend,” she said. “I spent 20 hours a day for a couple of weeks researching every demonic possession case I could find until I learned how to free her of her condition.”
“That’s possible?” asked Will, thinking of Yassin. Though it was too late for his old friend in any case.
“In 99.99% of cases, no, but it was for Mercury, and that’s not the point,” she said, waving it away. “I learned a lot about their infected servants too and let me tell you, even if this guy is a man of his word, which he won’t be, and your wife goes with you, you will never save her if I’ve gone the other way. You saw she was about to kill me, but that isn’t where it stops. Those with infected blood are eventually driven mad by it. If they live long enough, that is. They gain an insatiable bloodlust and go from killing when ordered, to killing strangers, to killing anyone they can get their hands on. Family included. I have evidence of that happening.”
Tears building, Will looked again at his wife. She had promised she would never kill her husband or Edie; would rather kill herself. For how long would that be true?
“I need a decision,” said Quincy.
Will asked, “What should I do?” of Amira.
“Let her go. Drive away. Keep me safe, and we will catch your wife later, I promise. Let me go, and you have no chance of bringing her back.”
“Time’s up,” said Quincy. Perhaps he had a sense of what they’d been talking about. “Gina. Kill yourself.”
“No,” Will screamed.
He went for the door handle. Amira went to grab him.
And the man with the greasy hair screamed as a knife was plunged between his shoulder blades.
Forty-Four
Mercury ran across the warehouse and slid into Amira’s cage, whipping the key from the door as she went. Once inside, she gestured for Trey to follow.
Shaking his head, he looked to where Heidi would any second burst through the door, then held out a hand.
Understanding his intentions. Not caring enough to dissuade him from throwing away his life, she presented him the blade, hilt first. Snatching it, he spun. As she quietly closed the cage door, he raced through the fire escape.
Through thick steel, Mercury heard the front door give in. Heidi entered. Seconds later she had crossed to the back and departed through the same fire escape as Trey. The moment this door clanged closed, Mercury left her hiding place and returned the way she’d come.
The fight raged on at the industrial estate’s gates. Mercury was relieved to see Amira escape through a gap towards Will’s car. Liz was still in the thick of things. Heidi had told her followers to release the police officer, but only once Amira was dead. Would they interpret these words to mean, if Amira escaped, they could kill Liz instead? Mercury intended to spare them this conundrum by helping Liz escape with Will and Amira.
Though time was of the essence, Mercury had no desire to face Heidi’s minions unarmed. First, she hopped into the back of the lorry and found, amongst the dead, two glinting blades. These in hand, she rushed across the concrete towards the melee.
By now, a greasy-haired man had hold of Liz. Quincy stood to one side, Gina to the other. They were trying to persuade Will to sacrifice Amira in exchange for his wife.
A few followers were on the floor, dying in their blood or the blood of their former comrades. Those that remained unharmed faced Will’s car. None looked over their sh
oulder or saw Mercury approaching. Moreover, when she darted between them, hopping over a pool of blood to arrive behind Liz, none paid her any attention. If they had, they might have been surprised to see the former face of their blessed master in their ranks.
Quincy was playing his trump card. If Will refused to surrender Amira, Gina would commit suicide. Smart, even in the insanity of infection, Quincy had worked out how to make Will comply. Over Liz’s shoulder, Mercury watched him try to escape the car while Amira tried to pull him back.
Because it killed two birds with one stone—freeing Liz and preventing Will giving Amira up—Mercury closed her eyes and forced herself to stab the scraggly haired man in the back. As he screamed and fell, she refused to listen to the whispering voice that told her he was infected, but still human.
Pushing Liz, she jumped the falling man and span. The followers had spread from the new flow of blood. Quincy’s face was a mask of hatred for Mercury.
“You were given a great blessing, and you discarded it as though it were nothing,” he hissed. “You make me sick.”
“If it helps, I’m not so keen on you either. Liz, go.”
As Liz rushed for the car, Mercury backed towards it, moving the blade in an arc to dissuade any infected who might consider following. When her leg nudged the bonnet, she turned and ran for the back door, throwing it open and jumping inside.
“Okay, go,” shouted Amira.
Will was watching his wife.
“Three choices,” said Amira. “Go now, and we can try to save your wife later. Get out and try to get your wife, but leave your keys in the ignition so we can get out of here. Or sit and do nothing. In this scenario, in about three seconds, I’m taking a knife from Mercury and stabbing you to death, at which point I’ll kick you from the car and take the wheel.”
Quincy began to approach, followers in his wake.
Will still failed to move.
Leaning over his shoulder, Mercury said, “If you stay, you die. If you go, there’ll be a chance to save her. Please, we have to go.”
Quincy was too large to run. He waved a hand over his shoulder, and his followers began to swarm.
Hitting the accelerator, Will swung the wheel, putting them into a sharp turn towards the T-junction at the small road’s end.
Three followers were too close to the car. Three thuds preceded them flying from the car as Will powered towards the sheer wall upon which sat the train tracks.
Remembering where Trey had come out, Mercury shouted, “Go right.”
As they did, she looked back but could see neither demon nor human. Nor could she see any blood.
Amira huffed. “You didn’t indicate.”
Before long, they were turning into Will’s road. A flash of guilt spun through Mercury as she spotted the bent door she had driven into some hours ago. All signs of Sammy, at least, had been removed.
As Will parked several houses from his and Yassin’s Amira said, “I guess we need a plan.”
“The plan is we save my wife,” said Will.
“That’s not a plan. That’s an outcome.”
“We left her. I didn’t come tonight to save you; I came to get her, and all I’ve done is come back.”
“Yes, fine, but that doesn’t change the fact that “save my wife” is not a plan. You’ve obviously never tried to get a business loan.”
“Amira,” said Mercury. “Not the time.”
“Get you,” said Amira as they stepped from the car. “I was only joking. You’ve changed. Maybe I should have left you playing body share with a demon.”
For a second, they faced each other. Then, smiling and crying they dived for a hug, squeezing so tight, before long, someone was going to break a rib.
“I’m so glad you’re no longer a demon,” said Amira.
“I’m so glad no one managed to kill you.”
As they pulled away, Amira said, “So far, I’ve been threatened with bullet, bat and blade. I wonder what’s next. Bazooka seems the obvious choice if they’re going to stick with the theme.”
“Where does anyone get a bazooka?” said Mercury. “More likely a brick.”
“Boring. But as long as it’s not a badminton racket. That would be too lame.”
“If you two don’t shut up and get inside,” warned Liz, “I’ll bite you both to death.”
“Bite,” said Amira. “That’s a good one.”
But she came. The four of them approached the house. With each step, the seriousness seemed to weigh more and more heavily upon their shoulders.
“We need to forget the followers, as much as we can,” said Mercury. “Only Heidi matters.”
“Does she even?” said Amira. “Can’t we flee the country?”
“My wife matters,” said Will.
Sighing, Mercury said, “No, we can’t leave the country. Yes, we will try to save your wife. But a saved wife may do you no good if Heidi possesses someone with this Mega demon.”
“Mega demon,” said Amira. “I like that.”
“I’m glad.”
“The term I mean. With the concept I’m less enamoured.”
Moving on, Mercury said, “Will, where did you say Leon was?”
They split. Will went upstairs to check on his daughter. Though she didn’t relish the prospect, Amira was going to check on Kayla.
Mercury and Liz went to the garage to get more information from Leon. Will hadn’t been a reliable torture threat. Liz and Mercury did not expect to have that problem.
At the door, Mercury grabbed the handle, and stopped, turning to Liz.
“Why was Heidi going to let you go?”
Liz raised her eyebrows. “You think I’m in the head of that monster? If you were going to be the host of her master, why was she keeping Trey? These decisions, I think they were arbitrary.
Mercury hovered by the door a few more seconds. Liz had fought to save her life when she didn’t have to, but Mercury knew little about her. She had seemed to be an honest cop. Other than Amira, Mercury did not know who she could trust.
“If you’re going to stand there a while, mind if I get a drink?” said Liz. “You’ve no idea how bad I need one.”
Ignoring the question, Mercury opened the door and stepped into the garage.
From upstairs, footsteps pounded down the hall and crashed towards them.
“Shit,” said Mercury.
Looking over her shoulder, Liz sighed. “That’s it. I’m getting that drink.”
She disappeared into the kitchen. Mercury heard her searching for glasses as the footsteps burst through the living room and into the kitchen. A few seconds later, Amira appeared in the garage.
She said, “Heidi’s been here.”
“Yeah,” said Mercury. “I can tell.”
Since Will had left, someone had broken into the house and come to the garage. Finding Leon, they hadn’t freed him but had leaned him forward and slit his throat, allowing his poisonous blood to boil on the garage floor. Once enough had been drained they had dropped him, face first, into the acidic pool.
With only this information, Mercury would have guessed it was Heidi. More convincing was that some of the blood had been taken and splashed on the walls.
In Mercury’s boyfriend’s summerhouse, Heidi had murdered a man named Laars with Mercury’s hands. Those same hands had engraved with blood the words, You’re welcome into the wood.
This time it was concrete rather than wood, and there was only one word.
Failure.
“You think that’s bad,” said Amira. “The baby’s gone. She’s going to be a demon.”
Forty-Five
In the living room, they gathered.
On the two-person sofa facing the telly, shaking like a leaf with terror-filled red eyes, Edie sat with her shoulder pressed into her father’s chest. Will, who looked drained and guilty, held her close and stared into the black of the television screen.
Beside the telly was an armchair. Mercury occupied this and Amira float
ed between sitting on the arm and standing, looking at the closed curtains as though staring down the street.
In the kitchen, Liz poured another drink. Yassin and Zainab must have been alcoholics, having lined their cupboards with a menagerie of different spirits; their fridge with beers and ciders. They even had a dedicated wine cooler and rack for the white and red respectively. Before Amira grew tired of waiting, Liz had sampled several bottles.
“Are you coming or what?” Amira shouted.
So far, the drinks were doing nothing. Liz was willing to give them time, although recently she had struggled to get drunk. In the reflection of her latest glass, she saw the bubbling boiling water into which she had plunged Victor’s head.
“I’ll be right through. Do go on without me. Does anyone want a drink?”
No one did. Too sensible. There had been a time when Liz could forego alcohol during important discussions. Had that time passed when she watched Hera squash Tom’s head like a grape, or when she had first come face to face with Heidi?
“Okay, Will,” Mercury was saying. “Is Edie able to tell us what happened?”
Now Liz had added her meeting with Heidi and Tom’s death to the current memory reel. As though she could drown the recollections as she had drowned Victor, she downed her vodka tonic, then grabbed the bottle of whiskey, of which she had yet to partake.
“She’s told me,” said Will. “I’ll tell you. Sweetie, are you sure don’t want to go and lie down?”
Sweetie did not. The thought of being alone seemed to terrify her. Liz felt a swell of sadness for the innocent teenager. When Liz was thirteen, she’d worried about school, boys, and knocking out the cow who was bullying her sister.
Whiskey splashed the table. Sighing, Liz wiped it with a cloth, pleased she was not yet at the point where licking the counter seemed a viable option.
In the other room, Will told Amira and Mercury what Edie had told him. It was a simple, predictable story.
The splintering front door had awakened Edie and Xyla, the latter of whom had begun to cry. Afraid, praying against all the evidence that it was her father, the teen left her room and met Kayla at the top of the stairs. To no effect, Kayla was shushing the inconsolable Xyla.
