Paranormal Investigations: No Situation Too Strange

by EH Walter

  Trevor announced his arrival by knocking at the door. He didn't pong as much as usual and he had a black bow tie around his neck. Very James Bond. In his hand he had a bouquet of riverside grasses and reeds which he presented to me. I knew his trick, he'd become addicted to Road Wars and wanted to encourage me to make that our viewing choice. Some chance buddy.

  "Thank you Trevor," I said politely as if he was any other guest, "please do come in."

  "Huh!" he said with a laugh. "Never invite anyone in lady," he said as he barged past me, "I could be anyone - I could be a vamp - you don't want one of those blood suckers getting entrance to your pad. Could be fatal. Those guys just don't know when to stop."

  "Thank you Trevor," I said out loud when my inner thought was 'stupid troll', "however, since they don't exist I feel safe."

  "Huh, you obviously never hung out down New Southgate on a Friday night then." He went into the living room slash kitchen, looking for the remote control which I had already hidden in my sock drawer. He had yet to figure out that you could change the channels on the TV itself. I tell you, the power struggles in this home were all over who controlled the TV remote.

  The three of us sat in my now clean and spacious living room to await delivery of our pizza. I had left the TV on BBC One, so we ended up watching Crime Watch.

  "She's part demon," Trevor said nodding towards the ginger head of Anne Robinson.

  "That doesn't surprise me."

  The next item on Crime Watch regarded a theft, earlier in the month, from the British Museum. The Ginger Demon announced police were now releasing CCTV footage in the hope that someone might be able to help trace the thief who had so far not been apprehended.

  The picture was black and white and a little grainy which made me think the British Museum did not have such up to date security systems as the local off license which was at least in colour. The time stamp showed it was evening, just before the museum closed. A small figure was ringed to identify to the viewers at home this was the thief. He walked up to a display, fiddled with the lock on the cabinet and removed a ring from within it. He pocketed the ring and, with a quick glance around, made his way out of the room and out of camera shot. That one glance had made his face visible to the camera. It was grainy, but he was still vaguely recognisable. The police officer on the TV said the Vitam Mortem ring had been stolen and it was of great historical, not financial, value. The museum wanted its exhibit back.

  I turned to Bob. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

  His face blushed. "Is it a good likeness?"

  "What the feck were you doing stealing from the British Museum?"

  He shivered nervously, "They told me to."

  "The fairies?"

  He nodded.

  "What do the fairies want with some old ring?"

  "I don't know, but when I heard they meant to... do away with me I kept the ring and ran."

  "You kept the ring!"

  He nodded again.

  "Bob, they want the ring! Give it to them!"

  "But it's my security."

  "Some security! Orla wants to kill you! I wouldn’t put it past her to eat your herself! Give them the ring and they might lift the threat on your life."

  He shivered. "I can't do that. They are bad and I know they want it for bad things. You can't trust fairies. I don’t want bad things to happen."

  "Where's the ring?"

  "I hid it."

  "Where?"

  He nodded to one of the socks now in a neat pile thanks to Nissa.

  "You enchanted it and disguised it as a sock?"

  He looked at me as if I was stupid, "No, I hid it in the sock."

  "Let me have it Bob and I'll find some way of getting it to Orla."

  "No."

  "No? This is your life we're talking about."

  "I can't let them. They are going to do something very, very bad. I heard them. Orla said they were going to test it on humans and then use it on the Fae. It is something to give them power over mankind. Do you know what would happen if the Fae out-numbered humans? It would be... it would be hell! And I can't help them do it. All my life I've been a coward and now I can do something brave. If I have to die I will die."

  "Can the fairies really be a threat with this ring?"

  "You met Orla, she is typical of her kind. She is also very, very smart. They want for nothing but the advancement of the Fae. Once, long ago, they ruled the earth and it was a dark and bleak and miserable place. It was a good thing when they started to die out, they were never meant to be the dominant species."

  Bob was talking and behaving like a completely different person, I was surprised, but also impressed with his strength.

  "I have lived with the Fae most of my life," he went on, "I was in their thrall and subject to their fancies. I know what goes on in their minds. They want to be the superior species again. They can't! It would be the end of the world!"

  He suddenly burst into tears and covered his face with his hands. It looked like there would be no stopping his weeping.

  Trevor looked at me angrily. "Look what you done!"

  "Me?"

  "You upset him. Those fairies are a bad bunch, why I'd like ta bash a few fairy heads in I tells ya!" He pummelled his fist into his hand. This might have looked scary if his fists weren't the size of a three year old's.

  I frowned at Trevor. How dare he blame me! "Okay then, we should return the ring to the British Museum where it will be safe."

  "Huh! Then they'd just send some other schmuck in ta get at it."

  "Well what do you suggest then, Einstein?" I tilted my head to wait for his answer.

  His unibrow dipped to his eyes. "I don't know, but if I did know it'd be better than your dumb ass ideas."

  This argument could have gone on indefinitely, thankfully there was a buzz from the intercom. The pizza. Saved by the pizza.

  I climbed up out of the sofa and made my way to the door. I had already counted out the money and it was safely tucked in my pocket.

  I answered the intercom phone with a greeting.

  "Delivery," was the brief reply and I pushed the button to let the pizza delivery man in.

  As I always did, I opened the flat door and waited as the footsteps thudded up the stairs. Otherwise, if it was a new guy, they sometimes had trouble knowing which corridor to go down. I was a pretty regular customer to Pizza Hut on East Barnet road and the Blue Ginger Indian restaurant on Station Road. The delivery men normally knew where to find me and it was a little bit embarrassing when you ordered out as much as I did. I flicked on the buildings internal light so he could at least see where he was going.

  The main stair well was not carpeted (more 1970s floor tile decor) and it was easy to hear the progression of my delivery. As the sound of the footsteps drew closer I got the money out of my pocket. Then I realised there wasn't just one set of feet coming up the stairs. And there wasn't just one person coming up the stairs. I stood in the corridor and looked towards the stair well door. The light dimmed as silhouettes of the figures blocked the light.

  My mouth opened to say something to Bob or Trevor but I wasn't sure what I actually wanted to say yet. My brain hadn't yet decided what was going on.

  The door opened and ten demons began to file through. I knew they were demons despite never having seen one before (unless you counted Anne Robinson). I felt it in my gut. I suppose they could have been trick or treaters, but their costumes weren't that good.

  They looked like big, butch men - the type who have been fighting since nursery school and knew every trick and every move. They looked mean and it didn't help that they were all at least a foot and a half taller than me. They all looked different but were clad in the same type of clothes, long black leather coats accessorised with very sharp and shiny curved axes. Their faces were expressionless, their eyes an unnatural red. They all had dark beards. I knew there was a good r5 nbreason I didn't like beards.

  A protective instinct kicked in. I had to l
ook after Bob. It didn't matter for one second that I was going to get my arse whooped big time, I had a job to do - a duty. One last thought crossed my mind. I wished I had just been honest with Jez. If I could face imminent death with ten demons surely I could tell a guy I loved him? What was so scary about that? I swore to myself there and then, eye to eye with the biggest and filthiest of the demons, that if I got out of this I would be honest with Jez. I would tell him I loved him and missed him and wanted him in my life again. Oh man, I really wanted to get out of this alive.

  My Sri Lankan neighbour opposite must have heard the disturbance of heavy demon feet in the corridor. Her door opened on the security chain, she looked out - her face taking on a look of horror - and then she slammed the door tight shut again. I can't say I blamed her. It's what any rational human being would do when confronted with ten demons.

  I took what I thought looked like an aggressive stance in the hallway.

  "I trained in stage combat under Canadian fight director Andy Fraser!" I yelled.

  The demons looked at each other, bemused. Who would have thought they had a sense of humour? The biggest put his hand up and the others stopped. He advanced, tossing the axe from hand to hand. It caught the light. That did not make me feel good, but as Anne Boleyn and Margaret Pole knew - a sharp blade is better than a dull one.

  "I have a stage combat certificate!" I screamed as he closed in on me and I sent a punch safely past his face. Dammit, in real life you actually had to hit them. That I hadn't trained for. I split the difference and kicked him hard in the knackers. At least, I think they were his knackers, you couldn't really tell with demons.

  I'd hit him where it hurt anyway which bought me enough time to run back into the flat and slam the door behind me with all my weight. Part of an axe blade appeared in the woodwork, narrowly missing my head.

  "Boys!" I called out, "We've got visitors, and not good ones!"

  "You don't say!" Trevor said.

  As I ran into the living room slash kitchen and slammed the door behind me I heard thumping coming from the window.

  "Fairies at six o'clock!" Trevor yelled.

  A group of fat fairies with dragonfly wings, like the ones I had seen in the sweetshop, were using their terrier sized bodies as battering rams. Another fairy tried to smash the glass in the window with his head. It's eyes were crazed as it tried again to head butt the glass. They really were mean. That or really stupid.

  "Cherubs,” Bob said with disgust, “it would be cherubs. Will the window hold?"

  I shook my head. "It's not double glazed. Quick, turn the sofa on to its side and block it!"

  We managed to up end the sofa, but it didn't fill the entire gap. If nothing else, it made us feel better.

  "And the other one!"

  We pushed the other sofa to the internal door and blockaded it as best we could. There was no way it would hold out to ten bad assed demons for more than the two seconds it would take them to shove it out of the way.

  The three of us gathered in the centre of the room by the kitchen work top. Trevor had left his cricket bat at home, but he was quick to find replacements and issued us all with sauce pans and frying pans, keeping the biggest one for himself.

  "Come on if ya think ya hard enough!" Trevor yelled out, waving my best wok in the air. Now I knew why trolls were the only creatures not afraid of fairies, too bloody stupid.

  “I don’t think they need the encouragement, Trevor. What's their plan of action?" I whispered to Bob, "What will they do?" As I spoke the lights went out.

  "Cut the power," he replied, "so the technology won't affect them."

  "Great."

  "It's okay," he said, "these pans are all stainless steel - just keep hitting them and don't say anything to them in case they trick you."

  "Great, I can whack the fairies with my Russell Hobbs, what about the ten nasty demons coming in the other end?"

  "Demons? Oh... I don't know."

  "Where's the ring, Bob?" I asked as another crack came from the door.

  "I've got it. It's in the sock tucked into my belt."

  Why do things always sound louder in the dark? My ears became very adept at hearing the cracks begin to appear in the glass and the splintering of my front door under demon axe. I think I clutched Bob's hand. How on earth had I got into this mess?

  Police sirens blared outside. They weren't coming to help - police sirens were always heard going up and down Cat Hill. Even if they did come, what could they do? This was my area - the paranormal - not theirs. They would be blissfully unaware that any of this existed, the worst thing they would have to face tonight would be an abusive trick or treater in a dodgy mask. If this was my area, then why did I feel so woefully inadequate to face it?

  I wanted to cry, but that would be of no productive use and I couldn't allow the luxury of panic. I bit my lip and tried hard to think of anything that might be of use.

  Nothing.

  "Trevor," I said to the darkness, "have you got any ideas of how to defeat the ten big and nasty demons about to come through the living room door?"

  "Whack 'em hard!"

  Just then something was pressed into my hand. Salt.

  "Throw it at the fairies," Bob said, "one of them will have to count it."

  I looked at the bag of salt in my hand. Hold on - salt. "This TV show I watch," replace 'watch' with 'addicted to', "it's about the supernatural and they use salt to keep the bad guys out. Would it work in real life?"

  Unless Jensen Ackles had lied to me, salt might be able to buy us some time.

  "It might." Bob said, "but there isn't a natural threshold here so it had better be a circle."

  I reached for the lighter that I kept in the drawer, then felt my way to the candle cupboard. I was shaking as I tried to light them and did burn myself twice, but managed to get a selection of tea lights going. Whether the lavender scent would relax us I didn't know, but it was certainly very nice to see again. A golden glow now covered the kitchen, the living room end was still ominous in darkness.

  Bob issued the salt and the three of us began to make the biggest circle we could around the edge of the kitchen, well okay - it wasn't exactly a circle but there were no maths teachers there to tell me off so what the hell. Even though I had bought every type of salt offered by Budgens it wasn't enough so we had to go back over our wobbly circle, thinning the line down so the salt went further. It was perilously thin in some places. Would it hold? Would it even work or was TV complete fiction?

  The window smashed and the sofa was pushed out of the way. I braced myself for action. I had fought a ghost with a vacuum cleaner, I told myself, I could fight a fairy with a saucepan.

  I took a line out of Trevor's book and shouted, "Come on if you think you're hard enough!"

  They obviously did.

  *

  The fairies flew quickly to us, their buzzing wings golden under the candle light. Their teeth sharp in their evil grins. There were about twelve of them I could count, all buzzing in the air by my kitchen counter. The expressions on their faces were pure malice. There was going to be no good way out of this.

  One of them was at the front, the leader of this band I supposed. He looked down at our salt line, his expression giving nothing away. I didn't know if he couldn't cross it or if he was merely playing with us. He didn't speak but I knew what he wanted, so did Bob.

  "I'm sorry," Bob said tremulously, "but you can't have it and that's an end to it."

  The fairy looked like he didn't think that would be a problem.

  Behind them, the second sofa was flung out of the way. I felt some sense of glee when it hit and grounded one of the fairies. Demons began to pour into the room.

  "Come on bozzo!" Trevor called, "I've got steel and I'm gonna use it!"

  Trevor was dancing close to the line of salt.

  "Be careful," I whispered, "don't break the line and don't go over it."

  "Like I need salt ta protect me!"

  "Well, Bob and I
would appreciate it if the salt circle was left intact."

  A candle flickered.

  The lead fairy looked me straight in the eyes and said, "Join with us." His voice was enticing, like something very, very nice that I really, really liked. "Be a friend Leo."

  Bob grabbed my hand. Without realising it I had taken a step closer to the fairy.

  "Don't listen," Bob whispered, "they speak the words you want to hear. They are all lies. They plunge into the secrets of your soul and manipulate them for their own end."

  Where were ear plugs when you needed them? I wasn't sure I could ignore a voice as nice as the fairy's. I wasn't sure I wanted to.

  "I don't think I can not listen to him," I said to Bob, "you're going to have to help me."

  "Poor little orphan girl," the fairy went on, "life dealt you a bad hand. We can make it better. We can help. There are many questions you want the answer to. We know the answers. We can help mend your soul."

  Bob pulled me back again, I had taken another step forwards.

  "Please Bob," I cried, "do something."

  So he did. He began to sing 'Love Shack'. Bob couldn't sing, he had the worst voice I had ever heard and for some reason he appeared to be singing it in an Asian accent. But it did the trick. With a song that rubbish and singing that bad it was hard to be wooed by the nice words of the fairy. I felt strong enough to resist.

  "I wanna bash ya head in!" Trevor yelled at the demon who was seven foot to his two and a half.

  Trevor held up the wok high and ran out to hit the demon in the knee, scattering a line of salt as he went.

  Bob stopped singing.

  The fairies bared their teeth.

  The demon swung his axe at my head.

  I closed my eyes.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Spain, 1034

  If I had ruby slippers, at that moment I would have clicked my heels together pronto.

  I closed my eyes tightly and the last thing I saw was the blade of that ugly axe glinting under candlelight two inches from my face.

  I didn't feel any pain. Maybe that was because it was a sharp axe. I could but hope.