Soul Mayhem: Zed's Chronicles of the Parallel Universe Disruptions

by John Hindmarsh

  “You do some weird things,” Dena said. “While you count your pixies, I’ll talk to Angel. I hope she has enough food.”

  Leopold was directing our visitors toward the large parking area in front of our three houses. It was graveled and could accommodate a few hundred pixies without difficulty. A pixy was, on average, eighteen to twenty inches tall and didn’t take up much space. They were able to hide and keep to the shadows at night and could hide themselves in daylight. Generally, they were shy—or at least cautious—of humans, a lot of whom treated pixies as pests.

  I said to Leopold, “I want to talk to the senior pixies; those who will supervise the others and ensure they do what I want.”

  He grunted and stood tall, somehow reaching to his six feet height. He blew a shrieking whistle and, to my surprise, spoke in Pixish. Ten or twelve pixies, male, older but not elderly, moved forward to the front of the gathering crowd.

  One, perhaps slightly older than the others, approached me with a small element of caution. First, he wiped his cat-like whiskers, cleaning them of traces of toast crumbs, then he said, “Sir Zed, on behalf of all gathered I convey our thanks for a delightful repast. You are to be congratulated. Never has any human so treated us.” A roar of approval came from the crowd behind him.

  “Thank you. May I have your name? Just the first part.” I knew pixies had elaborate and lengthy names and wanted to simplify the introductions and minimize my potential for self-embarrassment when I more than likely confused the lengthy sequence of syllables.

  “Sir Zed, my name is Ron hie Ronald; at least the first part.”

  “Welcome, Ron hie Ronald. How many have gathered here this morning?”

  “In human numbers, five hundred and twenty-one and a half. We’ve sent the half one home; he is far too young for man’s work.”

  “Good. The rest of your group here group are senior pixies? The others will listen to and take direction from them?”

  “Yes, Sir Zed.” The smaller group nodded in agreement with their spokespixie.

  “Listen carefully and make sure your people fully understand what I want, and they’re aware of possible dangers. Do you know what a soul stealer is?”

  Ron hie Ronald appeared doubtful. Leopold stepped forward and explained in Pixish. His words were followed by total silence. Some of the elders looked very pale.

  I said to Ron hie Ronald, “You understand how dangerous soul stealers are?”

  He nodded vigorously.

  I indicated the assembled pixies. “Do all of your people understand?”

  Ron hie Ronald stood on one of the garden decorations so he could see out over the crowd. He shouted something in Pixish. The crowd roared back, in English, a very firm “Yes.”

  “Are they willing to work for me in spite of the possible dangers?”

  The crowd understood and shouted back their affirmative; it was even louder the second time.

  “Are they willing to work for me for the next seven to ten days?” I included the daily rate and the promise of breakfast every morning.

  The shouted affirmation included numerous caps thrown in the air.

  I thought this final question could discourage one or two. “Are they willing to take direction from the senior pixies?” There was no hesitation. For a moment I thought the noise would break the front windows.

  Dena said, “You’ve started something, I’m just not sure what. There are another twenty pixies and five gnomes clearing out the old orchard area. I think they plan to make it into a garden. I don’t know if it’s for us or for them.”

  “Ask Leopold to check, later.”

  Ron hie Ronald overheard our conversation. “It’s a thank you for breakfast. No payment required. We’ll plant herbs for magic spells and for kitchen use. We’re very excellent gardeners.”

  Dena said to the senior pixie, “Please tell them thank you.” She turned to me. “Do you need all five hundred and twenty-one? I’m glad they sent the half one home.”

  “With this number, we can cover a lot of Londin in a week.”

  “How will they know they’ve encountered a soul stealer or a nest?”

  I was glad Dena reminded me. “I have a potion, an odor potion. It stinks and is almost identical to a soul stealer hatchery odor.” I beckoned Ron hie Ronald. “Have your people encountered soul stealers before?”

  He was silent for a moment. “I think one or two, perhaps. Why?”

  “You won’t be able to tell if you’ve detected a hatchery or nest unless you know what it smells like. I have a potion I can use to demonstrate the likely odor. We’ll have to go to the far end of our grounds, all the way to our back wall. It’s too strong to release here, near the house and kitchen.”

  By this time all the potential workers had finished their free breakfasts and a small number were busy gathering paper plates and ensuring no rubbish marred Leopold’s landscaping. I said to Dena, “Show Ron hie Ronald the furthest point of our boundary and he can gather everyone there while I get the potion. It’s a real stinker and you’ll curse me if I release it here.”

  “I’ll take your word,” she said, and I smiled. “No, you don’t expect us, too—”

  “Definitely. The knowledge of how a hatchery smells might save your life.”

  “Ugh.” She spoke with Ron hie Ronald and led the group of seniors to the rear of the property. I headed to my storeroom in the Spell House and gathered the potion and its counter agent. When I returned, the courtyard was deserted, and I hurried to catch up with my new workforce. By the time I joined them, Ron hie Ronald had explained to his pixies what they were about to experience.

  Fortunately, the high walls protected the property from variant breezes and, as a result, the air was still. I signed a very small sigil to ensure it would not change for at least an hour. I gave the counter agent to Dena and said, “Hold this. Don’t spill it. It’s the antidote, so to speak.”

  I donned the heavy asbestos gloves I’d brought out and shook the small container of the soul stealer odor elixir. If ever a potion was falsely labeled, it was this one. Elixir it was not. I examined the swirling liquid. I had no doubts as to its efficacy. I moved as close to the rear boundary wall as I could, waving for the pixies to move further away. I unscrewed the top of the small container and poured the contents onto the ground and at the same time whispered, “Pessimum Olfactum.” I sketched a sigil and stood back.

  The liquid hissed and snarled as it formed a grey cloud a few inches higher than the grass. The cloud turned darker and began to spread. Dena cursed me as she caught a full blast of the gas. She retched. The cloud spread further until all the pixies were either cursing or retching or both. I dropped my gloves and reached for the antidote potion. Dena was covering her nose with one hand and pushed the vial at me with the other. I removed the top and sprinkled the contents over the area where I had dropped the first potion. I wove a complex sigil. Moments later, small lighting flashes developed inside a sparkling white and silver cloud. The cloud and the flashes grew and expanded until the cloud covered most of the area infected by the odor spell.

  Pixies sniffed the air and relieved, took deeper breaths. I heard Leopold cursing me in Latin. Dena added, “Whatever he said, double.”

  “You can only cut my head off once, you know.”

  She kicked me in my shin. The pixies laughed, some rolling on the grass as their mirth increased. Their behavior was a side effect of the two potions. Leopold was also affected.

  “I think this might be difficult to live down,” I said to no one in particular, “but at least everyone now knows what a hatchery smells like.”

  Dena kicked me again. “It’s indelibly etched onto my olfactory senses. You are going to regret this demonstration, for years.”

  Ron hie Ronald, coughing and laughing, came to my rescue. “Thank you, Sir Zed. We all will be able to detect that stink, no matter how faint.”

  “Tell all your people, if they do detect it, inform me as quickly as possible. It’s urg
ent. They must not explore further or approach the hatchery. It could mean their death.”

  “Oh, we understand. Our folklore is full of soul stealer stories. It is our duty to help your search.”

  “Very good. Start tomorrow. Breakfast here, first, at six a.m. I’ll allocate a region of Londin for each of the teams to explore.”

  “We’ll be here. Your Angel cooks an excellent feast.”

  oOo

  Chapter 13

  I had to wait for my breakfast. Angel was busy cleaning her overworked kitchen and wouldn’t allow any of her helpers to do it. I think this was in revenge for me stinking up her kitchen with the soul stealer hatchery example odor. The three girls, who had eaten earlier, were highly entertained. While negotiations were failing, I received a call from Detective Inspector Jones, or Jonesie, as my friend Sergeant Mowers called him.

  “Yes, Inspector?”

  “I’ve cleared time this morning for a meeting, if you’re available.”

  Hmm. Intriguing. I suspected Jonesie wanted or needed something. “Certainly. What time?”

  “Ten a.m. Use the entrance in Great Scotland Yard. Security will have a pass for you.” The call disconnected. He was nothing if not abrupt. Either busy or creating an illusion of such. I checked the time and realized breakfast might be a non-event. I sighed. Angel was not surrendering. The girls increased their mirth levels.

  I had my parting shots lined up. “Dena, aren’t you supposed to be at Finders? Morwen, you too? Victoria, you have nothing to do? Nothing? Is your apartment tidy? Where’s Hunter? Is he sleeping in again? Why isn’t this household up and running?” Exhausted, I headed upstairs to change; gym pants and a tee would not impress the inspector. I notified Leopold on the way up the stairs.

  He was waiting when I returned, ready to go, as was my vehicle with its pilot, Mabel. The direction finder took a moment to select a route to Great Scotland Yard. We weren’t that far away, although the traffic in Londin was crazy during the commuting hours, both morning and evening, and I suspected it would take twenty-five, perhaps thirty, minutes to reach our destination. These city streets certainly needed traffic control lights of some kind.

  When we reached our destination, I told Mabel to head back home. I’d either call her or catch a taxi when we were ready to return. I planned at least to find a taxi drivers’ cafe and have my missing breakfast, first. The security passes were available as promised and we were escorted up several flights of stairs and along a linoleum-floored corridor by a nervous and young trainee constable. Her hand had trembled when she handed me my pass. Her name was Jessie, according to her badge

  “Surely we’re not that fearsome,” I said, attempting to lighten the moment.

  “Sir, if half of what I’ve heard is true, you are definitely to be feared. Your method for capturing the escaped hydra last year is now part of our training manual. Who knew sugar was a soporific?”

  I shook my head. The hydra capture was incidental to my survival. The sugar part was a guess because that’s where the damn thing was sniffing, and the cubes were all I had in that pocket. I let the trainee lead the way. Leopold followed, on guard as usual.

  We reached Jonesie’s office at precisely ten a.m. The constable knocked on the door and, at the shouted response, opened it and signaled for us to enter. I thanked her and entered the office. I shook hands with the DI and sat. Leopold stood, alert, in a corner next to a filing cabinet, battleship grey and battered—it probably had come off HMS Bagshot when she was decommissioned.

  Jonesie thought he had piercing steel blue eyes and tried to use his stare. His eyes watered after a second and he used a folded handkerchief to repair the damage. “Zed, we’ve got problems.”

  “We?”

  “Humph. A general purpose we, of course.”

  I was reluctant to inquire what other types of we might exist. Instead, I asked, “Please explain.”

  “These missing gals. Of doubtful virtue, of course. Although from information provided, perhaps not so doubtful. Hmm.” He sucked at his cigar, long since extinguished. “You’re looking for them, too?”

  “No, I’m attempting to determine why they’re missing.”

  “Humph. Tell me why.”

  I explained about the soul stealer hatchery. I didn’t mention my source, nor did I inform him the hatching beasts had been genetically transformed to seek me once they were capable of flight. I was trying to keep that piece of nasty news to myself.

  “How dangerous are these beasts?” He sucked at his cigar again, took it out of his mouth, examined the end, swore, and dropped it in his paper bin.

  “They grow rapidly to fifty or sixty pounds. They’re bat-like and vampiric in nature, and they bleed their victims dry. It’s claimed they drain the souls of their victims, too. They’re exceptionally vicious, breed rapidly, and bring plague-like diseases with them. If left unfettered, they’d infest Londin inside of three months. It would take ten or more years to eliminate a full infestation.”

  “You found out about this when?”

  “Two days ago. I’ve been investigating. The hatchlings consume phenomenal amounts of meat when they first hatch. When I leave here, I’m meeting with a Smithfield contact, and I’m checking if they’ve had any unusual meat orders. There’s also a possibility these missing women are victims and have been fed to the early hatchlings.”

  Jonesie shuddered. “Ghastly. I’d heard a similar snippet from other sources.” He stood. “You’d better come with me to meet with the chief superintendent—Thomas Parley, you’ve met him before. He’s anxious to take action.”

  Damn. Parley taking action was like using a rusty blunderbuss to stop a speeding rhinoceros. I frowned.

  Jonesie noticed my expression. “He was promoted. Come on, Zed. He can trigger a release of funds, so we can allocate resources. Otherwise we’re skint.”

  We had to wait almost ten minutes outside Parley’s office. Leopold stood, ever patient. I was convinced Parley had no one with him and suspected he was trying to demonstrate how important he was. I was about to either release a minor demon to taunt him, or simply leave. I still hadn’t had my breakfast. As I stood, a pretty young trainee constable—not the same one—opened the door and rushed out, slamming the door behind her. Her face was downcast, and her cheeks were flushed. My imagination worked overtime, and I promised myself Parley would regret his use of power over his young recruits, especially females. Jonesie, I’m sure, looked the other way.

  A minute later Parley opened his door, looked around as if surprised to see only the three of us, and said, “Come in, come in.”

  He sat behind his desk, a carved oak edifice, large enough to be used for a dining table for ten or more and waited for us to settle. He was a scrawny, thin-faced man in his sixties and his hair—what remained of it—was a nondescript grey. His uniform was crumpled. I’d heard stories of how he’d manipulated his ascent to power, some of which I regarded as credible.

  “Well, now, what can I do for you?” His voice was screechy.

  Jonesie and I had taken a chair each, and despite two other empty chairs, Leopold preferred to stand. Either way, he was very easy to overlook, and I thought Parley probably hadn’t even noticed his presence.

  I also thought Jonesie should lead this conversation and waited. He thought otherwise, and he too waited. I cursed under my breath and sketched a small sigil. Jonesie jumped when an electric shock discharged against the back of his neck.

  “We’ve reports now of ten women missing from the Soho area.” He hadn’t mentioned the larger number to me earlier. The death rate was far higher than I was expecting. “There’s a possibility some kind of supernatural beast is responsible.” Jonesie knew Parley couldn’t cope mentally with the concept of soul stealing vampire bats. Not many people could. “We need to investigate the disappearances and provide protection to our residents in the area, to ensure the missing numbers don’t increase.” He handed over what I assumed were copies of the missing persons reports.


  Parley leafed through the sheets of paper, muttering to himself. Occasionally, he stopped to examine details more closely. He turned over the last page and his face paled. “She’s missing? Bluebell? Why, I saw her the other—” Parley closed his mouth. He realized he needed to cover his slip and looked up at Jonesie. “I was on duty, checking the area.” He moved the paperwork to one side and looked at me. “Zed, you’re willing to help Jonesie—I mean DI Jones?”

  “I can make some time available.”

  “This needs more than lumps of sugar, I take it?”

  “It’s got the potential to make Jack the Ripper look like a beginner.”

  “A touch of hyperbole, there, I suspect.” He reached for the reports, as though seeking solace, and drew them closer.

  “Not at all. The difference is these bodies will never be found. The women, most likely all of them, are now deceased, their bodies disposed of.” If I said they’d been eaten, he would have discounted my warnings.

  He looked at the last page, smoothing it out. He frowned and again pushed the batch of reports away. “Very well, DI, I’ll free up ten constables and two sergeants and make them available to you for a month. That should help. I want weekly reports, mind. And quick results.”

  Jonesie’s nervous tension relaxed; I could feel the release. “Thank you, Super. Yes, that will help.” He stood to leave, and I did likewise.

  Parley raised an eyebrow. “That’s all?”

  “Yes, sir. If the additional resources can report today?”

  “Yes, they’ll be at your office after lunch. Two p.m.”

  On the way back to Jonesie’s office, he said, “That was not as difficult as I had expected. He’s usually far more argu—difficult to convince.”

  “I suspect the missing Bluebell may have added pressure.”

  Jonesie looked at me, his face without expression, “You could be correct.”

  We reached his office. I said, “A couple of items—I want to head to Smithfield to talk to my contacts. I can be here at the same time, tomorrow to meet with you and your team, if that will help.” Jonesie nodded. “Oh, what was the young trainee constable’s name? The one coming out of Parley’s office?” I checked and picked her name from the top of his thoughts. “Never mind.”