The Devil Inside

by Heather Atkinson

  “Hey, that’s Eve,” said Elliott, pointing to the blond. “She was the one who spoke to me in the church. She’s spooky as hell.”

  “Aren’t you tired of the daily grind?” extolled Malachi. “Of toiling for the undeserving just to earn enough money to keep the wolves from the door?”

  A number of the mass eagerly nodded.

  “How many of us ever know true freedom?” he pressed. “Modern society constantly demands obeisance, conformity, toil, which leads to nothing but misery and depression. Are we not all thinking, competent individuals?”

  “He’s optimistic,” muttered Brodie.

  “Aren’t we capable of running our own lives? Why do we constantly need to be told how to behave and what to do? Well let me tell you, there’s a place where such freedom is possible.” He gestured to a board behind him, adorned with an image of the church. “Here,” continued Malachi. “At Higher Light.”

  “Look at them all gazing at him like he’s the sodding Messiah,” Brodie told his friends. “This is Glesga for God’s sake. Everyone should be laughing and throwing deep fried mars bars at him by now.”

  “It goes to show how persuasive he is,” replied Cass.

  “Aren’t you a cult?” called out one voice, drawing a nod of approval from Brodie.

  Malachi’s smile was charming and indulgent at the same time. “No. That’s a malicious rumour put about by those who want you all to remain in the yoke, working your life away simply to serve them. At Higher Light all are free to pursue their true life goals, not waste their life toiling in a job they loathe. Creative and scientific pursuits are actively encouraged, as is education and betterment of the soul. Isn’t that what everyone’s soul craves, to follow the path of their heart’s desire?”

  More nods and murmurs of approval from the crowd. Disciples moved among them, doling out leaflets. Brodie was appalled to see how many people accepted them.

  “Christ, this needs to stop,” he told his friends. “He’s using people’s hopes against them. Oy, you,” he called out.

  “Brodie, what are you doing?” whispered Cass.

  “Trust me hen,” he replied.

  Malachi’s eyes laser beamed through the crowd. As Brodie stood substantially taller than most people he was easy to spot. “Yes friend,” smiled Malachi. “You have a question?”

  “What do you have to say about the forced labour of children in the compound behind your church here in Glasgow?”

  Shocked murmurs ran through the crowd.

  “I’ve heard those ridiculous rumours before,” replied Malachi, retaining his composure. “Which came from a single journalist who has never set foot inside our church. Yes, parents do bring their children to us but simply for an education. Higher Light has some excellent tutors.”

  “So you don’t force them to do menial work for fourteen hours a day and leave unqualified and inexperienced teenagers in charge of dozens of children then?”

  “Of course not.”

  Brodie noted people in the crowd smiling and shaking their heads, as though his accusations were ridiculous. “So what are the church’s opinions on aliens?”

  “Aliens?” frowned Malachi.

  “Don’t you believe demon aliens are responsible for everything bad that happens and when the apocalypse comes only members of Higher Light will be taken up in their spacecraft to safety? Isn’t that the higher teachings people have to fork out thousand of pounds to learn?”

  Brodie inwardly smiled when Malachi’s eyes narrowed, so fleeting it would be impossible for anyone not experienced in interrogation to catch.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about Mr…”

  “And what about the people who’ve walked into your compound never to be seen again?”

  “Once again, malicious rumour.”

  “Oh dear, so many malicious rumours.”

  “Those who work in the light will always be persecuted by those mired in darkness,” said Malachi, accusation dripping from his lips.

  “So everyone who says something against you is a liar?”

  “We are innocent of the charges you’re hurling at us.”

  “So it’s not true that there are bodies buried in the woodland surrounding the compound?”

  “Please Cain,” said Malachi, holding up his hand when one of his bodyguards stamped his foot in anger. “He doesn’t know any better, he’s been brainwashed by the darkness.”

  “The only one doing any brainwashing around here is you pal,” said Brodie. “So, if you are all innocent and squeaky clean, why don’t you let the polis in to search the place?” The corner of Brodie’s mouth crooked into a smile when Malachi stared back at him.

  “We would be happy to,” replied Malachi. “We have nothing to hide. The police are welcome anytime, however we need to preserve our church from the dark influence that exists in the outside world. Only those of the church are welcome within its sanctity to protect us all.”

  “A likely story.”

  “You never did tell me your name, friend?”

  “I’m no’ your friend,” glowered Brodie.

  The crowd looked back and forth between Brodie and Malachi as the two men stared each other out.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” said Malachi, breaking the moment.

  “What wasn’t?”

  “What happened in your past, the trauma involving your family.”

  It was only Cass’s hand on his arm that prevented Brodie from leaping up onto the steps and throttling the smug bastard.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” he bellowed, causing the woman standing in front of him to wince.

  “Your pain is written across your face for all to see. Higher Light teaches responsibility for your actions. Your tormentor blamed you for what he did but the fault rested on his shoulders alone. You were just a child.”

  “Keep out of my head you fucking freak before I snap you in two.”

  “Language please,” hissed one woman, indicating her young child.

  “Please don’t judge him,” said Malachi. “Pain manifests as anger. He can’t help it.”

  Malachi’s smile to everyone else may have seemed sympathetic but to Brodie it was a smirk.

  Cass saw how his amber eyes had turned dark and sherry cask, dangerous. “Brodie,” she said, taking his hand and standing before him. “Keep your shit together. If you lose it you’ll never find Steven or Mary and he’ll hit you with so many injunctions you won’t be able to go anywhere near him.”

  “She’s right Bossman,” said Elliott. “Don’t lose it.”

  Brodie dragged his gaze off Malachi and focused on Cass. His rage began to melt away. “You’re right,” he said.

  “You’ve made your point,” she replied. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Maybe we could call our pigeon friends to help?”

  “We’ve no doughnuts.”

  “Damn. Makes me feel like Doctor Doolittle when they swoop in to help.”

  She smiled and kissed him before turning to face Malachi. “And what about your own pain?” she called to him.

  “I don’t experience pain,” he called back, smug in victory. “I have transcended such lower emotions, which is something Higher Light can teach you all to do. Imagine living your life and never knowing pain again.”

  Around them, the eyes of the crowd lit up with hope.

  “Samantha,” was all Cass said.

  The effect on Malachi was startling. He went rigid, eyes widening before narrowing, his gaze remaining riveted on Cass. He only snapped out of it when Eve whispered in his ear.

  “Sure you’ve transcended that pain?” called out Cass before tossing her hair back over her shoulder and stalking off.

  “What a goddess,” said Brodie, hurrying after her. Christ he had to marry this woman.

  None of them looked back at Malachi or his followers, refusing to give them the satisfaction as they made their way out of the crowd.

  “Well we’ve certainly got his
attention,” said Elliott. “What next?”

  “We’ve prodded the lion,” said Brodie. “Let’s see how he bites.”

  Ross chuckled. “Another pure good tough guy line Boss.”

  Brodie rolled his eyes.

  CHAPTER 7

  Brodie remained in glum silence as they headed back to the office. Cass could see the darker side of his personality was close to the surface, the raw wound that had been ripped open inside him when he was eleven years old and that could never properly heal. It lay dormant inside him, pulsating and writhing into life when something prodded it, which Malachi had so masterfully done today.

  When they were alone in the bullpen together she took his face between her hands and kissed him. “What does it matter what that arsehole said?”

  “The walloper set it all out in front of everyone, like it was nothing,” he exclaimed.

  “Yes he did but that doesn’t give him power over you.”

  “He must know we’re looking into him and he did his research. No way did the prick know all that about me just by looking at me.”

  “I agree. Now we need to figure out who talked. Could it have been Elaine? Is she genuine?”

  “Aye she is. No way was it that wee woman.”

  Cass just nodded. She’d doubted Brodie’s instinct once before and it had almost got her killed. Never again would she doubt his gut. “Mason?”

  “Maybe or more likely someone who works with him saw us going into his office.”

  “Or someone at Pete’s station who’s part of the church heard Susan Silvers had been sent to us and told Malachi.”

  “You could have something there hen. From now on we have to assume the church knows everything about us and will use it against us.”

  “Like the bat at the Fort.”

  “Exactly. These pricks don’t possess psychic powers that let them see into people’s souls, they just do their research. It’s easy finding out people’s secrets.”

  “Fight fire with fire. We keep digging up their secrets.”

  “I love it hen,” he said, cupping her face with one hand. His other hand wrapped around the ring box in his jean’s pocket, wondering if now was the time. It wasn’t the most romantic backdrop but the atmosphere between them felt so intimate. He’d never felt as close to anyone as he felt to Cass.

  “For God’s sake,” he muttered when Elliott flung open the door.

  “Steven Silvers has been spotted by one of our informants outside the Kelvingrove Museum.”

  Inwardly Brodie sighed. The ring would have to wait. “Me and Cass will handle that, we don’t want to turn up mob-handed and scare the shit out of him. You three get on with digging up whatever you can on Malachi the prick.”

  “I love the Kelvingrove,” said Cass as Brodie swung the car into a parking space before the sprawling red sandstone building, which was dotted with a plethora of turrets and towers.

  “Well, when we’ve tackled the bats we’ll take a wee tour.”

  “I’d feel bad knowing the boys are working hard back at the office.”

  He winked at her. “One benefit of shagging the boss is you get to take time out whenever you feel like it.”

  “Anyway, I’m hoping we’ll leave with Steven Silvers and take him home to his mum.”

  “Me too hen but don’t bank on it. Malachi the prick has an advanced degree in brainwashing.”

  After retrieving a parking ticket from the machine, Brodie locked up the car and headed to the impressive main entrance opposite the park, the building rising above them. It was surmounted by a large bronze sculpture of St Mungo, patron saint of Glasgow, who glowered down at all who entered the museum’s halls wielding his crozier, flanked by two female figures representing Art and Music. A group of four disciples armed with leaflets were gathered at the bottom of the steps leading up to the entrance. Two of them were engaged in conversation with passers-by. The way they easily reeled people in never failed to amaze Brodie as to him they looked like a bunch of escaped loons. Perhaps it was because he’d had a lot more experience of loons than the average person so it was easier for him to spot them.

  “There he is,” said Cass as her gaze settled on the man in the photo pinned to their incident board. Fortunately he wasn’t one of the two bats engaged in conversation with would-be converts. He was even thinner than his image in the photo, his face gaunt.

  “We need to separate him from the other bats,” said Brodie. He smiled as an idea occurred to him. “You remember the Wheeler case?”

  “How could I forget?” replied Cass. “I had to make a proper spectacle of myself.” She caught his look and sighed. “Oh Brodie.”

  “Please hen. We need to separate Steven from the colony.”

  “Alright but you owe me.”

  “You’ll get a nice wee bonus in your wage.”

  “That’s not the sort of payment I want,” she purred.

  “What a goddess,” he grinned.

  Cass sat on a bench and slumped forward, her head in her hands.

  “You ready to go hen?”

  “Yes, suppose.”

  “Alright.” Brodie paused, giving himself a moment to get into character. How he loved the playacting part of his job. He raced up to Steven, ignoring the leaflet he thrust at him. “Help.”

  “What’s wrong Sir?”

  “It’s my girlfriend. Something’s wrong…I don’t know what.”

  Steven followed him to the bench where Cass sat, head bowed, raking her fingers through her hair. Brodie was so proud of his goddess when she looked up to reveal tears streaming down her face.

  “Can I be of assistance Madam?” said Steven, kneeling before her. “Are you unwell?”

  “No,” said Brodie. “She’s fine pal.”

  Steven frowned up at him. “What?” His confusion increased when he saw the woman who was supposedly in distress was suddenly calm and composed.

  “We have a message from your maw.” Brodie saw pain flash through Steven’s eyes before being mercilessly crushed.

  Steven got to his feet. “I’m not interested in anything she has to say.”

  “Aye ya are. She and your sister miss you so much. You’ve broken their hearts.”

  He hesitated before replying, “Their hearts are overflowing with joy that I’m doing the Lord’s work.”

  “Oh aye? The Lord wants you standing outside a museum shoving bits of paper in people’s faces, does he?”

  “You know nothing you…you heathen.”

  “To the bone,” he smiled. “Your maw’s worried. You’ve lost a lot of weight. She’s feared you’re no’ well.”

  “Well I’m fine. I’m just no longer concerned with the vanities of the flesh like clothes or exercise…”

  “Or food?”

  “I get enough to meet my daily requirements.”

  “Have you got a message I can pass on to put her mind at ease?”

  His eyes filled with suspicion. “No.”

  Brodie could smell the uncertainty surrounding him. “Your God wants you to break your poor maw’s heart, does he? Is her crying herself to sleep each night with worry all part of his big plan?”

  “I have elevated myself above such cares.”

  “Your sister’s sixteen. You giving up on her already?”

  Steven didn’t reply, too concerned with the internal conflict inside him.

  “If you’re trapped we can help,” pressed Brodie. “Your maw hired us to get you out.” His gaze flickered over Steven’s shoulder to the other three disciples, who appeared to be growing concerned with their conversation. Time was nearly up. “Let us help.”

  “I…I don’t know.”

  “Gie’ me a leaflet,” said Brodie as the three disciples began to converge on them.

  “Eh?”

  “Gie’ me a leaflet.”

  Steven handed him one with a puzzled frown.

  “I don’t want one of your leaflets,” announced Brodie loudly, thrusting it back at him. As he did so he pr
essed one of his cards into his hand, hidden beneath the leaflet while giving Steven a meaningful look. “Everyone knows you’re a cult. I don’t want to be turned into a batty brainwashed loon.”

  At the end of this pronouncement he tossed back his head indignantly, spun on his heel and held his arm out to Cass. “Come on hen, let’s go and look at a load of paintings and fossils.”

  She smiled and took his arm, the four disciples watching them head up the steps.

  “Never mind Steven,” said one of the disciples, patting him on the shoulder. “You can’t win them all.” His gaze turned cold. “But you have failed to gather any new converts for the last two weeks. Maybe it’s time for some more adjustment therapy?”

  “No, I’m good. I just need to find my confidence,” replied Steven in a breathless rush.

  “We’ll see but I’ll have to report this to Eve.” The friendly smile returned. “For your own good of course.”

  “Of course.”

  When his colleagues turned away to address a bemused party of Japanese tourists attempting to enter the museum, Steven slid the card the strange man had given him into his trouser pocket. Glancing over his shoulder he saw the mysterious couple supposedly sent by his mum disappear inside the museum arm-in-arm.

  “You spoke to him?” exclaimed Susan Silvers. “You really spoke to my Steven?”

  Her voice was filled with hope. Brodie had called her to update her on the case and although he had positive news he didn’t want her to get too carried away just yet.

  “Aye I did. He was preaching at the Kelvingrove.”

  “How did he look? Has he put on any weight?”

  “No, sorry doll. He looked even thinner.”

  “Oh God,” she breathed.

  “But he was definitely receptive to what I was saying, I’m sure of it. I got the impression he’s not happy where he is. I managed to sneak him one of my cards. With a bit of luck he’ll get back to me. There was a definite reaction when I mentioned you and his sister.”