The Devil Inside

by Heather Atkinson

  “Haven’t we all?” said Cass.

  “Neither of you have dealt drugs.”

  “And you got out of that,” said Brodie. “You lead a clean life now and, you know, you’re no’ bad.”

  The corner of Elliott’s mouth lifted into a smile. “Did you just compliment me?”

  “Aye and that’s the best it gets so make the most of it.”

  “I certainly will.” His grin fell. “She saw right into my soul.”

  “Who?”

  “Eve, the woman at the church. She took one look at me and saw everything. I don’t know how she did it but she was spot on. It gave me the fear.”

  “Elaine, who Mrs Silvers spoke to, told me about Eve. She did the same to her, spotted she was hurting from her divorce and the fact that she couldn’t have kids and took advantage of her.”

  “Eve invited me to a support group this evening.”

  “The coo did the exact same thing to Elaine, reeled her in hook, line and sinker. She said she was sure the majority of the group were church members trained in what to say to make her feel wanted. Only one other person at that meeting was genuine. She joined the church at the same time as Elaine. Now she’s disappeared.”

  “Jesus,” said Elliott.

  “I told her to get out of the city but she refuses until her friend’s found, although I did manage to convince her to take a wee holiday, so at least she’ll be out of the area for a while. I don’t think that lot will let anyone leave. I offered her protection but she wasn’t interested.”

  “Doesn’t sound wise,” said Cass.

  “I agree hen but she wouldn’t have it.”

  “Do you want me to go to that meeting tonight?” Elliott asked him.

  Brodie took in the trepidation in his eyes and shook his head. “Thanks for the offer pal but no. I know the script, thanks to Elaine. They’ll only pull the same shite on you as they did her. Get yourself off home and spend some time with your lovely wife and kid, who you bloody well do deserve. Alright pal?”

  “Message received,” he smiled, grateful he didn’t have to go back to the church.

  “Off you go then.”

  “Cheers Boss,” he said before leaving.

  “Right,” said Brodie, yanking Cass against him. “Now he’s gone let’s pick up where we left off. Oh for God’s sake,” he sighed when Christian and Ross returned.

  Christian grinned. “Interrupting something, were we?”

  “Sadly no,” sighed Cass, taking a seat at her desk.

  “Did you hand that ugly walloper over to the Macauleys?” said Brodie.

  “Aye we did,” replied Ross. “They’re torturing him as we speak.”

  “Nice one lads. Did they gie’ you the cash?”

  Christian nodded and handed Brodie an envelope stuffed full of notes. “We made sure to count it, that lot are dodgy bastards. The notes are genuine too.”

  “They wouldn’t dare try to rip me off, they know I’d break their kneecaps.”

  “So now that’s all done,” said Ross. “We’re free to help out with the bats.”

  “Good because this case is getting freaky. Anyway, never mind about that now. I’ll bring you all up to speed in the morning. You’ve done well today lads, so have an early finish.”

  “Nice one,” grinned Christian.

  “And I want you both in at nine o’clock on the dot tomorrow,” Brodie yelled after them as they tore out of the room. “Now,” he said, turning to Cass. “I was nice to Mason the mouse, which means you have a promise to keep.”

  “I do, don’t I?” she smiled, getting to her feet and picking up the envelope full of cash. “I’ll bung this in the safe then you can have your special treat.”

  “Nice one hen,” he beamed, overloading with excitement as he watched her walk into his office, admiring her beautiful backside as she bent over to the safe in the corner. He grunted and closed his eyes when he heard the door open.

  “Alright?” said Pete, bounding in. “Fancy going for a bevy?”

  Brodie rounded on him. “Bugger off. I’m on a promise.”

  “Oh, sorry about that pal but I thought you’d like to head down to The Horseshoe Bar.”

  “Why would I want to go there? It’s full of pillocks and ponces.”

  “Malachi’s disciples are picketing it.”

  Brodie gazed longingly at Cass as she wandered out of his office. “For Christ’s sake.”

  “What’s up?” said Cass.

  “The bats are picketing The Horseshoe Bar,” replied Brodie.

  “Really? Well let’s get down there.”

  “But…,” he began.

  She pecked him on the lips. “It’ll keep, don’t worry.”

  “You sure about that hen?” smirked Pete. “He is getting on a bit. His Viagra might have worn off by then.”

  “You cheeky bastard,” exclaimed Brodie.

  Cass patted his shoulder. “Brodie doesn’t need any enhancements. He’s all stallion.”

  “Urgh,” said Pete.

  “You hear that,” said a smug Brodie. “Stallion.”

  “You sure you don’t mean old mule?” said Pete.

  “Quite sure,” replied Cass. “And I’m driving.”

  “Jeezo, it’s chaos,” said Brodie.

  The three of them were looking through the windscreen at the tussle going on outside The Horseshoe Bar. Several disciples - all of them tall, male and strong-looking wielding bibles - were arguing with a group of men on the pavement. Three uniformed officers were struggling to break it up.

  “What I don’t get,” said Pete. “Is if the bats are so into the Bible, why do they believe in aliens coming to save everyone? There’s none of that in the Bible, from what I remember anyway.”

  “Because that’s higher level knowledge,” said Brodie. “And by that time they’re all brainwashed.”

  “Makes sense, I suppose.”

  One of the disciples yelled at the police officers, telling them they were sinners for protecting the rights of fornicators and drunkards.

  Pete chuckled. “He’s no’ far off the mark. That’s PC Shipley AKA Shagger. He loves a good old bevy and fornication of a weekend. He’s shagged the superintendent’s missus and the DCI’s randy sister, as well as a few of the WPC’s.”

  “How?” said Brodie. “He’s got a face like a bulldog’s arse spitting out its first shite of the day.”

  “True but he’s got a way with words. Woah,” he exclaimed. “Shagger’s been put on his arse by a bible-wielding bat. I’d better gie’ them a hand.”

  “Need any help?”

  “If I do I’ll gie’ you the signal.”

  Pete got out of the back of Cass’s car and rushed across the road.

  “I’ve got to hear this,” said Brodie, winding down his window.

  Brodie and Cass watched Pete hold up his hands and appeal for calm.

  The disciples rounded on him, waving their bibles. One of them pointed at his elaborate hairdo and called him a vain, prancing popinjay.

  Brodie sniggered. “Fucking priceless.”

  Pete wrenched the offender’s arm up his back when he attempted to whack him with his bible and forced him to his knees. The disciple’s pals rushed to aid their stricken friend and began whacking Pete with their own bibles. The other two police officers were dealing with the drunk men from the pub, who had turned on each other, so they were unable to assist.

  “SOS,” yelled Pete, holding up one hand to ward them off while refusing to relinquish his grip on the fourth disciple with the other. “SOS.”

  “Do you think that’s the bat signal?” grinned Brodie.

  “Yeah,” said Cass. “We’d better help him.”

  They got out of the car and walked across the road.

  “Oh please, take your time, won’t you?” Pete yelled at them.

  “Oy you lot,” Brodie bellowed at them. “Get off my pal before I ram your books up your holes.”

  The bats turned their attention from
Pete to them. Brodie and Cass ran at them and within seconds they were subdued on the pavement.

  “Finally, the fucking cavalry,” said a winded Pete, getting to his feet.

  “You okay?” Brodie asked him.

  “Aye, I’ll live.”

  “Your wig cushioned most of the blows.”

  “It’s not a fucking wig,” Pete snapped at him, patting his hairdo with one hand, which was wilting and leaning to one side.

  A police van pulled up at the kerb and the disciples started protesting again, yelling about fascist oppression and persecution.

  “You assaulted a couple of polis you tits,” Pete bellowed at them. “You’re the oppressors and you’re going down for this one. Your fancy pal Malachi won’t get you out of this, you’re knee-deep in the shite now.”

  One of them turned to him with a smile he didn’t like. “We’ll see.”

  “Get them out of here,” said Pete with an impatient gesture at the officers who’d arrived in the meat wagon.

  While everyone was distracted, Brodie scooped up a dropped bible and pocketed it. “I want to see how it compares to the real deal,” he whispered to Cass.

  Finally all the disciples, along with a couple of the drunken men, were loaded into the meat wagon and driven off. The crowd that had stopped to watch began to break up.

  “Looks like I’ll have to miss out on that bevy,” Pete regretfully told Brodie and Cass. “I need to process that shower down at the station and make sure those bastards who whacked me and Shagger get what they deserve.”

  “I bet when you woke up this morning you didn’t think that would happen,” sniggered Brodie.

  “It was rather…surreal.”

  “You okay Pete?” said Cass. “Do you need a doctor?”

  “No thanks doll, I’m good. I wonder if they’ll wriggle off the hook this time?”

  “They have a habit of doing that,” said Brodie.

  “Aye. Their aggressive techniques mean it isn’t the first time members of the cult have got involved in a rammy but it is the first time they’ve assaulted a polis and they’re going down for it.”

  “Keep me informed, won’t you?”

  “Aye, course I will.”

  “Do you want a lift to the station?”

  “No thanks. Shagger here can take me,” he replied, indicating PC Shipley, who was back on his feet, albeit with a black eye.

  “Alright pal. Make sure you nail it to the mad bats.”

  “I bloody well will.” Pete turned his attention to Shipley. “Oy Shagger. Station, now.”

  “Yes Sir,” he sighed wearily.

  “So what’s next for us?” Cass asked Brodie, watching Pete waft Shipley towards the patrol car parked at the side of the road.

  “Back home hen,” he winked. “You’ve a promise to keep.”

  “What are you waiting for?” she grinned. “Get in then.”

  Brodie couldn’t sleep, despite the strenuous workout he’d had with Cass the second they’d got home. He lay on his side, watching her sleep, sliding his fingers through her incredibly long hair. As always when he looked at her his heart almost burst with love. Every single day his feelings for her only grew. He wanted to ask her to marry him, he’d even bought a ring, which was hidden at the back of the drawer in his bedside cabinet. It seemed the natural progression - they already owned a house together and he didn’t want anyone else. Scarlett Johansson could walk into the room, strip off and beg him to take her and he’d tell her to bugger off. Cass was his lady and no one else. The thought of her being his wife was overwhelmingly beautiful but fear was holding him back. Brodie was afraid of nothing, except losing Cass. What if it was too soon for her and she said no? What if it ruined their relationship and split them up? He didn’t think she’d say no but he couldn’t summon the nerve and that made him feel like a big Jessie.

  He kissed her neck, smiling at the little mewling sound she made before settling back into the pillows.

  Quietly he got out of bed, pulled on his jammy bottoms and slipped out of the bedroom. He padded downstairs into the living room where the bible he’d nicked from the bat lay on the coffee table. Sinking into the soft, comfortable couch he picked it up and flicked through it.

  Brodie’s monstrous father had liked to make out that he was a devout man to help mask the psychopath he’d really been, dragging his two sons, daughter and terrified, timid wife along to Sunday service every week, forcing them to listen to tedious sermons. Brodie and his older brother Ricky had even been sent to bible studies class, so he was familiar with a lot of the good book, even though he hadn’t gone near it since Ricky had murdered their father right in front of him. It hadn’t helped him then so why should he bother with it?

  He flicked through the book. At first it seemed to be the standard New Testament. It was only the last third of the book that was different, telling stories of aliens bringing demonic spirits to earth to cause a rammy. Then another group of aliens would come along at some point in the future, kill the nasty demon aliens and their wee devils and save the church members. It read like a sci-fi novel. At the back he found a pocket cut into the black leather. He opened it up to reveal a piece of paper on which was scrawled a phone number with no identifying name.

  Brodie delved into his safe hidden behind a picture, took out one of the five burner phones he had stashed in there and dialled the number.

  “Yes?” said a deep voice on the other end. “Hello?” added the voice when there was no reply. “Is anyone there?”

  Malachi thought Brodie. He had no idea how he knew this, he’d never met the man but instinct told him it was the head bat himself. Somehow this felt like a pivotal moment in his life, as though the owner of that voice was going to be a significant part of it. The feeling was so strong and uncomfortable that he almost hung up but he refused to give into superstition.

  The silence stretched out before the line went dead. Brodie hurried over to the laptop sitting on the sideboard and returned to the couch with it. After searching for Malachi’s name he found a short interview with him online during which he charmed the pants off the over made-up female interviewer. Brodie was forced to admit the walloper was good looking. His clothes were obviously expensive and he sat elegantly with one long leg crossed over the other. He was younger than Brodie had expected, late thirties, possibly early forties. His hair was light brown with a hint of red, neatly cut, the front flicked over. His eyes were remarkable - bright, piercing, a dark brown with a ring of gold around the iris. When he looked directly at the camera Brodie recoiled slightly, as though he could see right into his soul.

  “Daftie,” Brodie told himself.

  He smiled as he listened to the ponce talk in his smooth, deep tones. It was the same voice he’d heard on the phone.

  “Morning hen,” yawned Brodie. “Jesus,” he cried, tripping up as he walked into the kitchen.

  “Watch the vacuum,” she replied, wrapped in a dressing gown, wet hair cascading down her back.

  Brodie stared at the black disc zooming about the kitchen floor, butting into skirting boards before turning around and zipping to the other side of the room where it malkied the skirting boards again.

  “If you want something black buzzing about the place banging into things,” he said. “Just leave the window open and I’m sure a bluebottle will fly in.”

  “But a bluebottle won’t clean the floors.”

  “I don’t like it. It’s already tried to kill me.”

  “Don’t be paranoid. Come on, sit down and have your coffee,” she said, placing a mug on the table for him.

  Brodie skirted around the vacuum, which thankfully zipped into the living room. “Thank God the Dalek’s gone,” he muttered. “I found something interesting last night.”

  “Oh yes?” said Cass, washing up her breakfast bowl and placing it on the draining board.

  He explained about finding the piece of paper in the bible and calling Malachi.

  “Seriously?” she said.
“You wouldn’t expect one of the bats to be carrying his exalted leader’s phone number about.”

  “I know, which means he’s one of the elite members of the church. I’ll call Pete when we get to the office and let him know just what he’s got on his hands. He could give us useful information about the church.”

  “He won’t be willing to grass on his leader.”

  “He might, if he was threatened with prison. Pete will know which buttons to push.”

  “It’s worth a try. Right, I’ll get dressed then we can get going.”

  “Alright hen.”

  He carried his brew through to the living room. As he drank his coffee he watched the vacuum zipping about like a whirling dervish. He smiled evilly when it approached the front door. He hurried over to the door and opened it and the vacuum went straight outside. Brodie quietly closed the door behind it, chuckling to himself. He then returned to the couch to finish his coffee in triumph.

  Cass appeared, looking glorious in her black trousers, blue shirt and black boots. Even though her hair was held back in a ponytail it still ended two thirds of the way down her back.

  “Ready to go?” she said, eyes sparkling.

  Brodie gazed back at her, determined that soon he would pop the question.

  “Hello, Brodie?”

  “Sorry hen and aye, I am.”

  His heart sank when there was a knock at the door.

  “I’ll get it,” said Cass.

  She opened the door to reveal the next door neighbour, Mrs Beig, clutching the still whirring vacuum.

  “This is yours, isn’t it dear?” she asked her.

  “Yes it is,” replied Cass. “Where did you find it?”

  “Out on the road. John at number four nearly ran over it when he backed off his drive. Fortunately he stopped in time, so it’s okay. I enjoyed watching him chase it. Then little Nippy from number six leapt over the fence and joined in. He tried to cock his leg up on it but I managed to stop him.”

  “John or Nippy?” Brodie sniggered to himself.

  “Well thank you so much Mrs Beig,” said Cass, taking it from her and switching it off. “These things aren’t cheap.”

  “I can imagine, although I do prefer the traditional type you have to push about. Anyway, I’ll let you go, you’re probably on your way out to work.”