‘Basically, it yells the same signal at the same frequency as my electronic tag,’ said Dirk. ‘So when it’s on, I can turn my own tag off, and no one will notice anything different. They’ll think I’m still here in my room!’
‘Cool,’ said Chris, ‘so now you can get around!’
‘Indeed, my puny human friend, I can – I think it is time for me to visit the Forest of Demons, wouldn’t you say?’ said Dirk.
‘We need to get some more supplies too – Gargon doesn’t half eat!’ said Sooz.
Just then there was a knock on the door. Quickly, Dirk shooed Dave the Storm Crow out of the window, where it hopped on to a little perch Dirk had attached to the outside wall, whilst Christopher and Sooz hid the phone and the tag in a drawer.
‘Hello, Dirkikins, it’s me, Hilary,’ said a voice from outside the door. ‘Can I come in please, dear?’
‘My name is Dirk, but yes, Mrs Purejoie, you may enter. If you must,’ said Dirk, glancing at Chris and raising his eyes at the insufferable ‘Dirkikins’. Christopher did not smile back, which Dirk thought a little odd, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it.
The door opened and Mrs Purejoie walked in the room. Tall, thin and blonde, she was wearing the clothes of an Anglican vicar (for that is what she was). To Dirk, it still reminded him of the uniform of the ancient Order of the Assassin Monks of Syndalos, a murderous sect of deadly killers, way back when in the Darklands.
‘Hi, Mum,’ said Christopher.
‘Hello, children,’ said Mrs Purejoie. ‘Have either of you seen my contact lenses? They’re usually in a little grey case with a cap?’
Dirk blinked guiltily and flicked his eyes to a spot on his bookshelf where he’d hidden the case behind a book. He’d completely forgotten that he’d used her contact lenses case to hide the Essence of Evil. Then he remembered what he’d done with the lenses. What had he been thinking?
Christopher caught his look, and narrowed his eyes at Dirk, with that expression on his face that Dirk recognised so well. It meant, ‘What have you been up to now, you devious little freak?’
Dirk gave Chris the Shrug of Innocence, as he called it. Or, more accurately, the Shrug of Feigned Innocence.
‘No, I’m afraid not, Mrs Purejoie,’ said Dirk. ‘Haven’t seen them anywhere – but I’ll keep an eye out!’ He couldn’t help himself and added under his breath, ‘Your eye – on the table, blinking up at people, heh, heh.’
‘Me neither,’ said Chris, still staring at Dirk. ‘I’ll let you know if I see them, Mum,’ he said.
‘Nor me,’ said Sooz, ‘Sorry, Hilary.’
‘Ah well, I thought as much,’ she said. ‘I’ll check the fridge, or the tea cupboard. I’m getting so absent-minded these days, I could have put them anywhere! Have a nice day at school, my little chicks.’
“Little chicks?” thought Dirk to himself, raising an eyebrow as Mrs Purejoie left. If only she knew…
‘Wait for me downstairs, guys,’ said Dirk to Chris and Sooz. ‘I’ve just got to check the… I mean, go to the loo. Cluck cluck!’
With that he hurried off to the bathroom, leaving Chris and Sooz to groan loudly at the chicken joke.
Dirk locked the bathroom door, and began rifling through the bin. ‘Ah yes, thank the Dark Gods, no one has emptied the bin yet,’ he said to himself. The contact lenses were still there. Carefully, he lifted them out, wrapped them in tissue paper, and hurried off. He would sort the Essence out later, transfer it to something suitable, put the lenses back and put the case in the fridge or something, where Mrs Purejoie would find it and no one would be the wiser.
November 19th, 2013 Rip-out-their-hearts 19th
Hacked this from the school staff website…
Minutes of the Board of Governors…
Interesting read!
Dirk, Sooz and Christopher sat on a log in a clearing deep inside Willowdown Wood. In front of them stood a seven-foot winged demon from another world, and a tall, lean, fit-looking human. He seemed almost as out of place as the strange seven-foot creature – always looking around in bemusement, a puzzled look on his face. Behind them were two tents, one man-sized, the other much larger. Nearby, a kind of lean-to made out of a tarpaulin on sticks protected a set of drums from the elements. Chris and Sooz had unloaded various supplies earlier as well: bottles of water, blankets, tins of food, camping gas and so on – even a small diesel-powered generator!
The man spoke. ‘We can’t stay here for ever, Dirk,’ he said, gesturing to the tents. ‘I mean, it’s late autumn now, and when winter comes we will freeze.’
‘Gargon hate cold!’ said the seven-foot demon.
Dirk put a hand to his chin and stroked it ruminatively. ‘I know, I know, but what are we going to do with you?’
‘Gargon stands out like a sore thumb, to put it mildly,’ said Chris.
‘And Rufino – no disrespect, but you’re not… Well, you don’t come over well in the modern age, but I’ve got some ideas about that,’ said Sooz.
‘Yeah, we know about your crazy ideas,’ said Dirk. Sooz ignored him. That was odd – she never ignored him! What was going on?
‘How’s the drumming coming along?’ said Sooz, pointing at the drum kit.
‘Good,’ said Rufino enthusiastically. ‘I am glad you brought them, my Dark Lady! I like these modern earth drums, much better than the timbrels, tambours and cowhide drums of home!’
‘Even Gargon like sound of Rufino on drums – he pretty good!’ ground out Gargon in a voice like crunched-up rocks in a blender.
‘Rufino may have been a skilled troubadour once, but this is twenty-first century England – your band idea is composed of nuts, Sooz, and lots of them!’ said Dirk.
‘That’s just “nuts”, Dirk, not “composed of nuts,”’ said Chris, raising his eyebrows.
‘Oh, right.Yes, yes of course.You’re nuts, Sooz,’ said Dirk. ‘Nuts!’
‘Thanks for your support, Dirk – mind you, that’s what I’ve come to expect from you these days,’ said Sooz waspishly. Dirk frowned, silenced for once. Christopher gave him a mocking half-smile which puzzled Dirk even more.
‘Anyway,’ continued Sooz, ‘I’ve brought you this, Gargon,’ and she handed him the rather large guitar she’d been carrying on her back. ‘It’s a special big guitar for big-handed people. I reckon those talons of yours will be like a handful of plectrums, and you’ll make a great lead guitarist!’
Gargon looked at his enormous taloned hands. ‘Plec…plec what?’ he gravelled.
‘Don’t worry about that now,’ said Sooz, ‘just take the guitar and play with it. Here’s a book too, on teaching yourself guitar.’
‘Hah, hah!’ laughed Dirk. ‘It’s Gargon, for evilness’s sake – he can’t even read, let alone learn to play the guitar!’
Gargon blinked in embarrassment. He hated people knowing he couldn’t read.
‘Well, we’ll see about that, Dirk Lloyd,’ said Sooz huffily. ‘I think Gargon has hidden musical talents!’ She turned to Gargon, and took him by the hand. ‘Don’t you, my dear old Gargie?’ she said.
Gargon looked down at Sooz affectionately, an expression quite out of place with his overall demeanour – i.e. winged, taloned, scaled and fanged.
‘Gargon try, my Queen, Gargon try his best!’ he grated.
‘Oh please, this is ridiculous,’ said Dirk. ‘And how’d you guys get all these supplies and the instruments and that over there, that generator, by the Nine Hells?’
Sooz and Chris exchanged a look.
‘Gold,’ said Chris.
‘Gold? What do you mean, gold?’ said an astonished Dirk.
‘When we came back from the Darklands we both had a few gold coins in our pockets – you know, gold Dirks.’ (When Dirk had been in Dark Lord form, ruling the Darklands, he had introduced coinage – Gold Dirks, Silver Soozes and Copper Christophers.)
‘Worth quite a bit over here,’ said Chris.
‘Oh, I see, and when were you going to tell me ab
out this?’ said Dirk, a little annoyed.
‘We…we knew you wouldn’t want to spend the money on…well, musical instruments and stuff,’ said Sooz.
‘You’re right there! What a waste. Weapons! That’s what we need, weapons – tanks, even! To fight the headmaster.’
‘All very well, Dirk, but it’s England. You can’t buy weapons,’ said Sooz.
‘Especially when you’re kids,’ added Chris laughing, ‘and especially not tanks!’
Dirk folded his arms. Crashing into the headmaster’s study in a tank would have been so cool. But they were right, of course.
‘Pah, enough of this,’ said Dirk. ‘I’ll keep on working on the only sensible option – getting them back to the Darklands. Now, let’s go, guys, we’ll come back with more supplies later!’
‘You go if you like, I’m staying here to teach Gargon some basic chords,’ said Sooz.
‘Me too,’ said Chris.
Dirk stood there for a moment. Didn’t they want to hang out with him any more ,or something? He felt a twinge of hurt and sadness, but then a quiet anger rose up within him. They’d been off with him ever since that business with Hasdruban in a van. Well, so be it. He’d been alone and friendless for a thousand years or more before he’d met these two, he could handle being alone again! He didn’t need them, they were worthless humans, anyway. In any case, he needed to get back and sort out the lens situation, a task best undertaken alone.
With that, he turned and headed out of the clearing. He followed the trail they had created through the woods – he’d used Orcish symbols painted in black on the trees to mark the way. No ordinary human would ever understand them, but his friends could. His minions, rather, of course. Disobedient minions, that is. Soon he came to the edge of the wood, and began to cross the farmer’s field that led to the bridge at the edge of Whiteshields town and then on towards the bus stop for home.
In a nearby van, a figure in white watched the boy as he trudged up the low hill into town…
November 20th, 2013 Rip-out-their-hearts 20th
Out of boredom and disgust at the trite mundanity of the Whiteshields School newsletter, I have decided to create my own little newspaper type thing which I will distribute around the school. I have decided to call it the Dark Times. Here’s a sample.
‘There are two types of humans – my lackeys, lickspittles and slaves, and those who will soon be my lackeys, lickspittles and slaves.’
Dirk Lloyd
TODAY’S HORRORSCOPE
Scorpio (Deathsting) – Today, a giant scorpion will rise up out of the earth and sting you to death! Mwah, hah, hah! Better stay in.
Aries (Scaries) – Today, an enormous comet will fall out of the sky to crush you utterly! Better stay in, if I were you.
Gemini (One-Two-Many) – A while back, a mad scientist cloned you. Today, that clone will turn up and kill you, laughing as it does so. Better stay in, I think.
Leo (Kittenkill) – If you go out, you will be eaten by wild animals. No, really. Best stay in, I think.
Libra (Wishwashy) – Most of your friends have finally realised what a wretch you really are, and they’ve decided to kill you. Better stay at home, and hope your family aren’t in on it too.
LETTERS WITH THE AUNT OF AGONY
Dear Aunt of Agony,
My parents are causing me problems at the moment, I really don’t think they understand me. What shall I do?
Yours, Laura Wibblebottom
Dear Laura,
You need a potion of mind control. Put it in their tea, and they will be as docile as cows, obeying your every command, and doing whatever you tell them to do.
Yours Sneeringly,
The Aunt of Agony
PS By the way, don’t let anyone find out what you’ve done, especially the police.
Dear Aunt of Agony,
I like animals, but my brother has a pet tarantula. It keeps escaping and hiding in my bed. Well, that’s what my brother says, I reckon he puts it there. Anyway, it’s harmless, but frightens me so much I can’t sleep, as I’m worried it might turn up at any time. What should I do?
Yours,
Sarah Snailweed
Dear Sarah,
Oh my, what an opportunity! Take the spider, hide it in your neighbour’s cupboard, feed it up with a massive dose of radioactive growth hormones, and sit back and watch the carnage. Mwah, hah, hah!
Yours Sneeringly,
The Aunt of Agony
This issue of the Dark Times
brought to you by the Great Dirk!
Yours Unfaithfully,
I, the Dark Lord, Master of the Legions of Dread and Sorcerer
Supreme, the World Burner, the Dark One, Master of the Nine
Hells, the Lord of Darkness and the Lloyd of Dirkness, his Imperial
Darkness and his Imperial Dirkness, Dirk the Magnificent, make
this missive my own with this seal, on this date the 20th of Rip-out-their-
hearts, Year of the Dark Lord One, in the Reign of Iron and
Shadows. Well, the Reign hasn’t officially begun, not quite yet, but
soon, oh yes, soon. Just as soon as I get out of detention.
Dirk and Christopher sat around the breakfast table, waiting for Mr and Mrs Purejoie to join them. Christopher was staring at the table. Dirk, who’d been having an imaginary fight between the pepper pot as the Dark Lord and the salt cellar as the White Wizard, put down the Holy Sword (knife) and the Evil Trident of Utterly Destroying White Wizards (fork) with an irritated flourish.
‘What’s the matter with you, Christopher?’ said Dirk. ‘You’re moping around like a Goblin in a cage!’
‘Nothing,’ said Chris morosely.
‘What do you mean, nothing? How can it be nothing? Look at you!’ said Dirk.
Chris just shrugged disconsolately, and began fingering the scar on his cheek, his mind elsewhere, brooding.
Dirk sighed. What was it with people? These humans and their curious moods. Up, down, sideways. It wasn’t much fun hanging out with Christopher when he was like this. He wouldn’t play any computer games or anything!
Dirk frowned. He’d have to snap him out of this mood, if only so he could win a few games of Fantasy Wars or that Blood of Darkness game. He hadn’t crushed a puny human for ages, and Chris was always good for that!
Dirk tied his white napkin around his chin, pretending it was a beard, and said, ‘Die, Dark Lord, die!’ in a passable imitation of the headmaster, Hasdruban. ‘And after you’re dead, you’re going into detention for a month!’
At that, Chris raised a wry smile, and made a tiny laughing sound. Dirk, encouraged by his comedic impersonation, added, ‘And then I shall destroy your worthless lackey, Christopher, too!’
But Chris didn’t laugh at that. In fact, he just glared at Dirk angrily. And then his face fell, and he turned back to examining the table.
‘What! What did I say?’ said a bemused Dirk.
Mrs Purejoie came into the room.
‘These contacts seem a little dark, as if they were sunglasses or something. I found them in the fridge – could the cold darken them up? Is that possible?’ she said in puzzled tones.
‘That doesn’t seem likely,’ said Dirk, but inside he was thinking furiously. Darkened? He’d put her lenses back in the case that had held some of the Essence of Evil. He’d cleaned the case out as thoroughly as he could but still – it clung to things like glue. Could her lenses have been contaminated with Essence of Evil somehow? Could it affect Mrs Purejoie in some way? He began to stare at her avidly. This could be interesting!
‘What do you think, Christopher, my darling?’ she said.
Chris shook his head. ‘Doubt it,’ he said tersely.
Mrs Purejoie sat down, and then Mr Purejoie came in bearing breakfast for the family. He was a red-haired, ruddy-faced man with gentle blue eyes – a GP, in fact. He didn’t think the cold would darken Mrs Purejoie’s lenses either. After a short prayer (Dirk mumbled his own ver
sion under his breath – which usually involved adding the word Dark to any instances of ‘Lord’ and so on), the family tucked into eggs on toast.
Before Dirk had taken a mouthful, something odd happened. Mrs Purejoie leaned back. ‘What…what’s that…?’ she said in astounded tones. Everyone followed her gaze. She was staring at…well, staring at the corner of the room.
Suddenly she screamed!
‘What is it, dear, what is it?’ said Dr Purejoie as he leaped up and dashed to her side. Christopher was open-mouthed with shock. His parents never did anything odd or out of the ordinary and they certainly didn’t have hallucinations like they’d been taking drugs or something!
‘Mum, are you all right? Mum?’ he said in worried tones.
‘It’s a terrible blackness, a desolate… I can see… what…how?’ she stuttered, staring in horror at the corner of the room.
‘Don’t worry, sweetheart, we’re here!’ said Dr Purejoie, holding her hand, as he tried to work out what was happening to her.
‘What can you see?’ said Dirk.
‘I can see…a tall…a tall black tower…in the middle of…a desolate land…and there are little creatures…ugly little capering things – OHHH, it’s awful!’ she said. Mrs Purejoie began plucking at her eyes, pulling out her contact lenses. ‘It’s these contacts… they’re evil! EVIL, I tell you!’ she said, as she threw them on to the floor.
Everyone stared at her in amazement. Then Chris turned to Dirk, a suspicious look on his face. Dirk gave him the Shrug of Feigned Innocence. Chris narrowed his eyes, unconvinced.
‘Now, dear,’ said Dr Purejoie, ‘I don’t think the lenses can be evil, can they? Maybe they got coated in something, and it’s distorted your vision.’
Eternal Detention Page 3
