Blood on the Bar (Lucas the Atoner Book 1)

by Iain Rob Wright

  Simon pulled a face. “You detoxed him?”

  Lucas shrugged. “Kind of. I also put right all the damage that cocaine does to a fourteen-year-old brain.”

  “It still does not make it okay,” said Vetta. She had her arms folded in a defensive posture, making it clear she felt her attacker was being absolved before her very eyes. That wasn’t right at all, so Lucas went to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

  “The kid so much as looks at you wrong,” he whispered, “and I’ll tear out his eyes. You’re the victim here, Vetta, okay? No one is losing sight of that.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Jake. “I really am. I’ll admit to everything if we get out of this alive. You can tell the police on me.”

  Lucas put up a hand to quiet the lad. He’d done enough apologising and more wouldn’t achieve anything. “Look, Jake, I believe you may not be quite the remorseless animal I pegged you as, but you still have a lot to answer for. Let’s just focus on the present for now though.”

  Jake nodded. Vetta tapped her foot, but she nodded too—after a moment’s resistance.

  Lucas ran his hands through his hair and tried to get his mind straight. “Okay, so… does anybody have any other addictions I can cure? Warts I can remove? Come on, I’m not doing much else.”

  Everyone chuckled. The dank air became a little lighter in the alleyway.

  “I haven’t been able to grow hair on my head since I was twenty-six,” said Simon, laughing. He patted his smooth dome like one of the Three Stooges.

  “Is that what you’re trying to make up for with that magnificent beard?” asked Shirley, slapping her thighs.

  Jake seemed ashamed to laugh after what he had been accused of, but he gave a small quip of his own. “The smell of paint makes me heave; is that fixable?”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” said Lucas. “Maybe just keep away from paint!”

  “My breath in the morning could kill a horse,” said Shirley, covering her mouth to keep from cackling too loud.

  “How about an aswang?” Simon asked, fighting to keep his own guffaws contained.

  Vetta smiled now as well, getting over the previous conversation. “Sometimes,” she said, “I get very bad period pain.”

  The laughter stopped. Simon cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together. “Um, okay, right, shall we get back to dying then? Is our best option still to try and kill one of those things?”

  “I don’t think that will work,” said Lucas. “Even if this place was tethered to one of the aswangs, we have no way of telling which one it is.”

  “Maybe it’ll be wearing a crown,” said Jake weakly.

  “There’s only one crown in Hell,” said Lucas, “And it doesn’t belong to an aswang. We have to find a way to get Julian’s attention. I have to find out what he wants. This can’t all be about nothing. There’s something he’s hoping to gain from keeping us here.”

  “No shit!” said Jake. “The guy’s been running the pub for years, so something must have pushed him over the edge to start murdering his customers.”

  “I pushed him over the edge,” said Lucas. “But I don’t know why. I think he’s been trying to cast a summoning spell on me for a very long time, but it didn’t work because I wasn’t in Hell to be summoned. Then, for some reason I can’t remember, I went back there recently. I went back to Hell, and Julian’s spell finally kicked in and snared me. It brought me here.” He pointed at the scorch marks on the pavement. “Something must have affected the spell though, because I landed out here by the bins instead of the shrine inside that Julian had constructed to contain me. There was iron on the doors and in the four corners of the room. It was a Devil’s Trap.”

  Jake seemed surprised. “So, summoning The Devil actually works?”

  “It was easier back when I was answering calls, but yes you can summon celestial beings if you have a pinpoint on their location or something connected to them.”

  “Like the plastic bags,” said Vetta. “You used them to call Gladri.”

  Lucas nodded. “Yes, like the… Like the plastic bags! If we can find them again, I can try to call Gladri for help.”

  Simon raised an eyebrow. “Would he even help us?”

  “He’s not my biggest fan, but none of you should be here—you’re innocent. As an angel, Gladri would see that as an injustice. Julian is messing with forces that don’t concern him, and Heaven won’t ignore it. Search this alleyway for two white carrier bags.”

  “Seriously?” Simon asked. “Like, just normal shopping bags?”

  “Yes!”

  Everyone got to work. The bin Simon had kicked over made things difficult, adding additional litter to their search, but they walked together in a line, covering maximum ground. Fortunately, there was no wind, which meant the litter at least stayed where it was. The alleyway was long but narrow enough that they shouldn’t miss anything. If the plastic bags were still here, they would find them.

  “Reminds me of prison,” said Simon as he sorted through bits of rubbish on his knees.

  Shirley stared at him. “You were in prison? What d’you do?”

  “Killed a guy.”

  Everyone stopped and looked at Simon. Simon guffawed and shook his head. “I’m pulling your leg. I used to go on the rob. Tried to break into some offices to snag printers and stuff, but the place had a silent alarm. This was, oh, twenty-years ago. I’m a different man today. Thought Shaun was, too, which is what makes it so hard he abandoned the rest of us like he did. He really let me down.”

  Shirley frowned at the big man. “You a pair of bummers or something?”

  “If you’re asking are Shaun and I homosexuals, then the answer is no. We’re just good mates. Neither of us has had much luck with women, so we kind of ended up together. He has a few stretches in the knick under his belt as well, so we’ve kind of helped keep each other on the straight and narrow. We got a flat together about six years ago when it was clear neither of us would settle down and do the family thing. Better than growing old alone.”

  “Is nice,” said Vetta. “Would be nice to live with friend.”

  Shirley shrugged. “You sound like two queers without the sex.”

  “You have a problem with it?” Lucas asked the older woman, hoping she wasn’t going to cause an issue that they didn’t need right now.

  “Yes,” she said firmly, glaring at Simon. “They’re living together as friends while I’m stuck with my bloody husband. Ha! If I could bunk up with one of the girls from bingo, I would have put Eric out on his arse years ago!”

  There was a moment’s awkward silence while they tried to get a read on Shirley, but then the titters started as it became clear the older woman was having fun with them. Shirley increased their amusement with another quip. “Least I have an excuse for a non-sexual relationship—I was stupid enough to say, ‘I do,’ Ha!”

  “Come on,” said Lucas, smirking. “Let’s get back to work and find those carrier bags before a pack of monsters comes and eats our faces.”

  They laughed some more, then continued their search.

  But they didn’t find anything.

  Little sense of time existed in the alleyway, which was why they could have been searching an hour for all Lucas knew. They had found nothing. They were getting fed up. Tense.

  “I’m still starving,” said Shirley. “I would kill for a big, fat greasy cod and chips.”

  Jake groaned. “Ah shit, Shirley. Don’t talk about food.” He licked his lips. “I would go for a curry down the Spice Mill. You know that place down Gavin Hill?”

  “I would have a big fat steak,” said Simon, rubbing his tummy. “Cook it myself.”

  “Big surprise there,” said Jake, squeezing the man’s biceps.

  “I would have my mama’s Zemiakové placky,” said Vetta dreamily.

  Shirley scoffed. “What on earth is that?”

  Vetta frowned as she apparently worked out an explanation in English. “It is... potato pancakes, yes? Lots of gar
lic, dough, spices. My mama make it all the time back home. It was my papa’s favourite. Remind me of being little girl.” She looked sad. “I miss home.”

  Jake nodded thoughtfully. “You ever planning on going back, Vetta?”

  “Why? Because people like me should go back from where we come?”

  “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that, I swear. I just think it must be lonely, that’s all. Being away from your family. I… can imagine.”

  Vetta let her shoulders drop out of their guarded stance, but she seemed a little teary as she spoke. “Lonely, yes. I want to go home long time now. I come to UK to escape unhappy memories and to send home money, but I think it was mistake. I am not wanted here, and I feel alone. I miss my mama and my little sister. I think now I will not see them again. Never did I think I would die here, in a place that is not my home.”

  The conversation faded, and they resumed searching, but only half-heartedly. “It’s useless,” said Simon eventually, saying what they were all thinking. “I can’t find these bags of yours, Lucas.”

  “I don’t think they’re here,” Lucas was forced to admit. “Damn it. At the moment, all we have is a big pile of rubbish.” He leaned against the wall and felt a pinch against his leg. He pulled the object out of his pocket and held it in his palm. “Oh, and one of the nails used to crucify Christ. A novelty item at best.”

  “It has to be of some use,” said Jake. “Why else would Julian keep it in a safe?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You still don’t think Julian is Jesus?” asked Shirley. “He does look a little… Arabic.”

  “I don’t know who he is,” said Lucas, squinting. “But I’m getting there.”

  Vetta tapped him on the arm. “What do you know then? Think, Lucas.”

  A noise sounded at one end of the alley, the end closest to the shopping centre. It was a bin tumbling onto its side and spilling its contents. This time, Simon hadn’t kicked it over.

  Shirley yelped. “Oh God! It’s one of those things.”

  “Time for round two,” said Jake, stepping into the middle of the alleyway with his fists clenched. What he hoped to achieve was anybody’s guess.

  Another bin clattered onto the floor, this time at the other end of the alley. The shadow of an aswang shifted against the wall before the creature then revealed itself, snarling and hissing in their direction.

  “They’re coming from both ends,” said Simon. “We’re penned in.”

  “Stay together!” Lucas made everyone back up into a tight group.

  The aswangs skittered towards them, closing in fast. They grunted and growled, more like dogs than the humans they’d once been—the humans they’d been before Lucas had passed their sentence.

  No, that wasn’t me. That was Lucifer. I’m trying to make things better.

  Doesn’t mean I’m not guilty.

  The aswangs stalked the group from both sides, seeming to savour their terrified prey. Simon backed up against Lucas. “God, these things are ugly.”

  “Monsters,” said Vetta. “Real monsters.”

  “Ah, I dunno,” said Jake. “I kinda fancy this one.”

  Shirley groaned. “You deserve to get eaten.”

  “Stay together,” Lucas warned. “Don’t let them drag you away.”

  The aswangs snarled and gnashed their crooked teeth. Drool slopped from their uneven jaws, and their eyes burned with hatred and hunger. Hatred for everything. Hunger for flesh.

  “It’s been really horrible meeting you, Lucas,” said Simon, sounding entirely earnest.

  Lucas flinched as one of the beasts hissed at him. “I know. Sorry about that, big guy.”

  “Let’s go down swinging,” said Shirley. “Wish I knew where I’d left my handbag. It would have given these things a mighty good whack.”

  “You don’t need it,” said Jake. “Show us what you got, girl.”

  “I haven’t been a girl in three decades, son, but I can show you what a middle-aged care-worker can do.”

  “I can’t wait,” said Jake.

  “Get ready,” said Lucas.

  The aswangs attacked. This time they intended to finish their meal.

  The aswangs worked together, attacking in unison from both sides. Simon faced the first, grabbing it by the head and keeping it at bay. Its jaws clacked together, trying to bite him, and its greasy black hair tangled around his wrists.

  On the other side of the group, Jake kicked his legs like a bucking horse to keep the second creature back. Lucas tried to be in both places at once. “Stay together,” he shouted, kicking at the aswang battling with Simon. “Don’t let them pull you away.”

  “I think this one wants to dance,” said Jake.

  “You should buy her a drink first,” said Shirley.

  Jake chuckled. “If I do, it won’t be at the Black Sheep.”

  Shirley spat at the aswang attacking Jake. “Get out of it, you bloody mutt!”

  They held their ground, backs together, keeping the aswangs from singling anyone out. It worked for a while, but they had no way of fighting back, only playing defence—and they were getting tired. Their movements were heavy.

  Simon lost his grip on the wildly thrashing aswang, hands slipping further and further towards its mouth. “Shite, I can’t hold this bitch much longer!”

  Jake was faring better, although his kicks seemed only to make his aswang angry. Each time he bucked, he risked his foot ending up in the monster’s thrashing jaws.

  Lucas decided Simon was most in need of help, so he leapt at the aswang’s flank while the big man wrestled with its head. With no idea beyond simply launching himself, Lucas beat at the creature’s back and shoulders desperately as hard as he could.

  He’d forgotten he’d been clutching the iron nail, so it was a surprise when the chunk of metal sank into the aswang’s back.

  Blood spurted—a thick black ooze—and the aswang screeched in agony. It tried backing away, but Simon held on to its head tightly, redoubling his grip and cinching in a tight side-headlock.

  Lucas stared at the nail in his hand and then, without thinking, struck again—this time harder—embedding it deep into the creature’s neck. A torrent of black blood gushed into the air, covering Simon and Lucas. Simon flinched and let go of the aswang, which wheeled away in a panic, wounded and… smoking. A plume of stringent fumes spiralled from its open back wounds.

  “You hurt it!” Shirley shouted triumphantly. “You sliced its tyres!”

  “Help me!”

  Lucas turned to see Jake losing his balance as he threw another kick. The lad spilled onto his side, and the aswang pounced immediately, clamping down on his ankle with its razor-sharp jaws.

  Vetta was nearest, and she grabbed the aswang around the neck, trying to yank it away from Jake. Lucas ran to help, iron nail held before him like a stubby sword. He drove it into the top of the aswang’s skull, and the thing dropped like a lead weight.

  A few feet away, the other aswang was still wounded, bleeding and smoking from its back. Then, it too, dropped to the ground and went still.

  Both creatures were dead. The iron nail had killed them.

  Jake extricated his ankle from the dead aswang’s jaws and scrambled backwards. Blood pooled beneath his foot and didn’t seem like it was stopping. Simon slumped up against some bins to catch his breath, sweat pouring from his bald head and glistening in his beard. They were battered, but alive.

  “They are both dead?” asked Vetta, glancing back and forth between the two slumped aswangs. “How?”

  Lucas held up the iron nail. “I should have thought of it sooner. Creatures from Hell can’t abide iron. God created it to place in the blood of human beings as a ward to prevent demon possession. It’s become less effective over time, but a demon still cannot directly touch iron. I don’t think that’s what killed the aswangs though.”

  Shirley frowned. “What then?”

  “Jesus Christ’s blood. It was on this nail, and maybe it still i
s. This nail is literally coated in God’s essence. It’s like Excalibur as far as demons are concerned—if Excalibur was nine-inches long and slightly crooked.”

  Jake laughed from his back. “When did you see me with my pants off? Ha, ha, argh! Shit, man, my ankle is messed up. Can you heal me again, Lucas?”

  “I’m not sure.” He headed over to take a look. The ankle looked bad, not just torn open, but crushed. The fragile bones inside were splintered from the crushing weight of the aswang’s jaws. Lucas placed his hands on the wound and concentrated, but he knew right away that nothing was happening.

  “It still hurts,” said Jake, wincing.

  “I’m sorry, lad. I can’t help you. Whatever power I have, it doesn’t work properly out here. Even if I fixed you, it wouldn’t hold. You saw what happened to Gheorgie.”

  “We need to get back inside the pub,” said Vetta. “Your powers would work in there, yes?”

  Lucas nodded. “They did before. Outside is too close to Hell, but the pub is different.” He looked at the thick, thorny vines still wrapped around the building. “But I don’t think we’ll find our way back inside to find out.”

  “I can’t get up.” Jake moaned. “You’ll have to leave me here.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” said Vetta, peering over Lucas’s shoulder. “We can’t leave you.”

  “She’s right,” said Shirley. “We leave you in this alleyway, Jake, and you’ll get eaten.”

  Jake grasped his shin and hissed. “That’s gonna happen anyway. Least you lot might have a chance.”

  Simon kicked one of the dead aswangs and then spat on it. “You said killing one of these things would help us, but we just killed two and nothing has changed. We’re still trapped in this place, and Julian hasn’t shown his face. He’s just going to leave us here to rot, isn’t he?”

  “Whatever plan Julian had, he’s abandoned it,” said Lucas. “He has no reason to do anything but leave us here to die. I underestimated his power—thought he would be forced to deal with us eventually. There’s no reason for him to do anything. He could make it so every second in this place seems like a thousand years.”