Dominion

by Peter McLean

I had to admit it did look that way.

  Bianakith strode towards us, not charging now, taking its time. It had obviously worked out that Trixie had been the only serious threat out of the three of us. I drew the dagger from my belt with my free hand and shoved Janice behind me.

  I have no fucking idea how to fight with a knife.

  I could have just legged it. Bianakith was hurt, and I was pretty sure I could have outrun it. I had a torch and a talisman and I knew the way back, give or take.

  But Trixie was lying over there, out cold and at this horror’s mercy.

  But Trixie had hit me, in a fit of blind rage.

  Trixie was a soldier, as she was so fond of telling me, and I’m sorry but sometimes soldiers die in battles. Acceptable losses, they call that.

  But I loved her.

  And Janice was behind me, and I didn’t think she was built for running. Janice was no soldier, and she had suffered more than enough already. She was clinging to my coat and whimpering, but she still hadn’t run away either. I thought about Trixie, lying there across the cavern.

  I loved her, and that was all there was to it.

  Time to do the hero thing at last.

  By which of course I meant it was time to cheat.

  I have no idea how to fight with a knife, but then I didn’t have to. Not with this knife I didn’t.

  “No,” I said. “We bloody well aren’t going to die.”

  It might have looked that way, but then it had looked that way more than a few times before. I’m still here, aren’t I?

  “Burned Man,” I said, “can you hear me?”

  The blade vibrated in my hand. Excalibur had had its soul to be sure, and I dare say Hrunting had too, but that wasn’t quite the same thing. Those blades had been gifted to the heroes who wielded them by higher powers. Now I might not really be any sort of hero, but I had enchanted this blade myself, with my own blood and semen and the soul of my very own archdemon. I was playing by my rules now.

  Bianakith lowered its head to charge, and I raised the dagger.

  “Come to me, Burned Man,” I commanded. “Come forth in unmaking and serve my Will!”

  The dagger blazed in my hand. Crimson lightning flickered along its length and pure power roared out of the upraised blade, coalescing in the air between me and the horror that was the Rotman. That power took on a shape in the light of my torch, a shadowy black humanoid form with smoky, ethereal chains streaming back from its wrists and ankles and into the blade.

  “What’s up?” it said.

  I pointed at Bianakith.

  “Kill that,” I said.

  The Burned Man snarled like all the hounds of Hell and poured forth into the cavern, the poisonous black shadow getting bigger and darker and the chains getting thinner and harder to see as it hurtled towards Bianakith. They met with a crash that echoed through the chamber, shaking the ground under our feet. Janice screamed and clutched at me.

  “What is that?” she wailed.

  “On our side is what it is,” I said.

  At least, I sincerely fucking hoped it was on our side. I was taking the mother of all chances here, I knew I was, but I really didn’t have any other choice. Bianakith would slaughter us both otherwise, and then Trixie, and then the gnomes. Then most of London, probably.

  The huge form of the Burned Man lifted Bianakith off its feet and hurled it across the chamber to smash into a wall. The rock sagged and slumped from the impact, oozing like liquefied jelly. Bianakith started to rise, Trixie’s blade still sticking out of its body.

  The Burned Man’s laugh made the hairs on my arms stand up. I had known it was powerful of course, but this was monstrous. Bianakith was another archdemon after all, and the Burned Man seemed to be taking it apart without breaking a sweat.

  “Oh no you fucking don’t, matey,” it said.

  It raised one huge shadowy hand in Bianakith’s direction and a massive gout of fire burst out of its outstretched fingers and washed across the chamber like a jet from a napalm cannon. Bianakith roared and burned. It took one more stumbling step forward, blazing like a bonfire, then howled and fell to its knees with its tusks raised to the distant ceiling and its back arched in agony.

  “Burn, you motherfucker,” I whispered.

  Janice had her face pressed into the back of my shoulder and was trembling in terror. I put an arm around her and watched Bianakith reduced to charred bones and scorched meat. The Burned Man swung back through the air in a lazy arc and loomed over us.

  “Anyone for a hog roast?” it asked.

  I snorted laughter. “I need to see to Trixie,” I said. “Back in the dagger, mate.”

  “Fuck off,” it said.

  Oh shit, here we go.

  I mean, to be perfectly honest I’d been sort of expecting this ever since I realised I really was going to have to let the genie out of the bottle, so to speak, but all the same I had been holding out a thin hope it wasn’t going to happen. I should have known better.

  “You’re still bound,” I told it. “I’m not that fucking stupid. Now get back in the dagger, Burned Man.”

  “Will I fuck as like,” it said. “I’m a fucking sight less bound than usual, and I like it a lot better this way. You can shove your magic dagger up your fucking arse.”

  Of course, Papa Armand had warned me this might happen when he first suggested the idea. He was a Houngan but that was far from all he was. Vodou was his religion but aside from that he was also a more powerful magician than me in his own right. He had told me what to do.

  Now, I mentioned that invocation isn’t really my thing, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to do it. I focused my Will into the dagger and I invoked as hard as I could. The Burned Man growled as its chains pulled tight, their shadowy form becoming more distinct as I reeled it in.

  “Fucking stop that, you little puke,” it said.

  “No,” I said. “You’re coming back home, Burned Man.”

  It pulled back, snarling and fighting me. Janice was almost gibbering now but she slipped away and I saw her scurry around the wall towards where Trixie lay. Bless her little heart.

  I fought the Burned Man, the dagger glowing with unholy light and flickering with red lightning as my Will coursed through it. If I hadn’t had the power of that dagger, and if the Burned Man hadn’t still been chained, I wouldn’t have stood a hope in Hell of doing this, I knew, but I did and it was. I opened myself fully and sucked it back in as hard as I could.

  “Cuuuuuuuuuuuuuunt!” it screamed as it shot through the air towards me, shrinking rapidly until it smacked into me and disappeared.

  I staggered back a step and shook my head, dazed for a moment. The dagger felt suddenly cold in my hand, and I quickly stuffed it back through my belt. I shone the torch across the room and saw Janice kneeling beside Trixie’s prone form. I hurried over in time to hear Janice finish singing some sort of song, low and soft like a lullaby. She looked up at me and smiled shyly.

  “Just a little root and rhyme,” she said. “I’m nowhere near as good at it as my mother is but I think it’ll do the trick.”

  I did as well. A moment later Trixie opened her eyes and blinked at me.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  I shot Janice a warning look.

  “You killed it,” I said. “I knew you could do it, Trixie.”

  I know, I know, but I didn’t want her to have to face her failure, not now, not after her experience with the Dominion. And I really didn’t want to tell her what I had done, if I’m perfectly honest about it. Let’s put it this way – I didn’t exactly think she would have approved.

  “But…” she said.

  “It smacked you a good one when you ran it through, that’s all,” I said. “Your sword stayed stuck in and burned it up, look.”

  I pointed to the smoking, bubbling mess that had been Bianakith. Trixie’s blackened blade was still lodged through its ribcage, after all. It was fairly plausible, if I do say so myself.

&nbs
p; “Oh,” she said, and let me help her up. “Well, that’s good.”

  “Yes,” said Janice.

  I glanced at her, but her pointed little face was impassive and it didn’t look like she was going to say anything that might drop me in the shit. I really did like Janice, I have to admit.

  Trixie strode over to what was left of the Rotman and kicked it over onto its back. She put a foot on its chest and pulled her sword out, and made it disappear with a twist of her wrist. She stopped, peering into the darkness at the far end of the cavern.

  “What’s up?” I called.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Could you bring the light over here for a moment please?”

  I went over to her and shone the beam of my torch in the direction she was looking. The light played over something, but fuck only knows what. It was so rotten and corroded it was now just a heap of slag that could have been almost anything originally. It had definitely been metal once though, maybe bronze by the looks of what was left. Given that we were in a mostly natural cave and the gnomes didn’t seem to have any sort of metalworking, that was bloody odd.

  “What is it?” I said.

  Trixie frowned thoughtfully. “I have no idea,” she said.

  “Oh,” said Janice, from beside me. “Oh dear, that’s a shame.”

  “Why, what was it?” I asked her.

  “Oh, I don’t really know, I’m afraid,” she said, “but it’s been here as long as anyone can remember. It used to be the most beautiful statue of a cat.”

  “Really? Down here?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I don’t know why, but I think it was old. Very, very old. The memories of the gnomes go back thousands of years, after all, and as far as I know it’s always been there.”

  Oh well, whatever. Tiddles had definitely run out of lives now, and I dare say it wasn’t important anyway.

  “Come on,” I said to her. “Let’s go and give Her Highness the good news, then maybe we can get some fresh air. It stinks down here.”

  Chapter 13

  We had to stop and pay our respects to the matriarch of the gnomes, of course. Trixie was as gracious with her as she had been with Janice, and accepted Her Highness’s gratitude but declined any sort of reward. We left as soon as was polite, and let Janice guide us back to the surface. We popped up in an alley between two hotels somewhere in the West End, some time after midnight.

  “I knew you were a hero,” Janice whispered to me while Trixie was still climbing out of the manhole behind us.

  I really wasn’t sure about that, but she was sweet to say so. She was also probably one of the bravest people I’ve ever met. I gave her a goodbye hug. If she’d been human and I hadn’t been hopelessly and one-sidedly in love with Trixie… ah well. Story of my life.

  “Well,” I said once Janice had disappeared back underground. “That’s that then.”

  I knew I should have been all kinds of shaken up after what had happened down there, but somehow I just wasn’t. I also knew I still had Adam to worry about as well but I felt pretty good all things considered, and I never stopped to wonder why.

  Trixie just shrugged. “I suppose it is,” she said.

  She looked like she had something on her mind, but I knew her well enough by then to tell she wasn’t in a talkative mood. I sighed and went to find us a taxi. That wasn’t easy, what with how we looked and smelled after our battle in the depths of London, but it’s amazing what most cabbies can be persuaded to overlook for enough money. Trixie didn’t say a word all the way home, and by the time we were back in my office I could tell something was definitely wrong.

  “Look, Trixie,” I said, “what’s up? You did really well down there today.”

  I know, I know, but she needed cheering up and I figured what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. I took my coat off and chucked it on the floor. It was wrecked, and destined for the bin tomorrow anyway. I tossed the dagger on my desk.

  “Oh, nothing,” she said. “I didn’t sleep very well last night, that’s all.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She slipped her jacket off and turned to face me. “About last night,” she said. “I really am sorry, Don.”

  “I know,” I said. Not so sorry that she had stopped hiding her aura, I noticed. It was still the blazing white she hid behind when something was wrong, but I wasn’t going to mention that. “It’s all right. You were upset about the Dominion, I realise that.”

  “Yes, but that’s no excuse.” She reached out and put a hand on my arm. “Oh, it’s not just that, Don. I… I had the most awful nightmares last night.”

  “You did?” I must admit I hadn’t even really known if she actually slept or not, never mind whether she had dreams. It seemed like she did. “Sorry to hear that.”

  “It’s going to sound silly,” she said, “but I keep dreaming about that horrible cat.”

  “What? That mangy ginger thing with one eye?”

  She nodded. “Well not about it, as such. It’s always there though, in my dreams. I dreamed about my Dominion, too, and that… that hurt, Don.”

  “Aw hey, come on,” I said. “Whatever’s going on up there, you can’t take it personally. You know that.”

  “How can I take it any other way? My Dominion spoke to me like I was dirt.”

  There was a bitter twist to her lips, and she turned quickly away from me and stared out of the window. I gave her a moment, then went and put an arm around her. It was meant to be comforting but she went rigid until I let go.

  “Sorry,” I muttered.

  “No, it’s all right,” she said. “I don’t mind. It’s nice to be held for once. I’m just not used to it, that’s all.”

  I took her hand instead and we stood side by side at the window holding hands like a couple of lovestruck ten year-olds. Well, one of us was lovestruck anyway. I sighed.

  “Look, I need to put the Burned Man back in its box,” I said after a while. “It’ll go nuts shut up in that dagger for too much longer.”

  “Yes, I suppose so,” she said, but I could tell she wasn’t really listening. “Don, would you sleep with me tonight?”

  I almost choked.

  “Um, pardon?”

  “I just need a little comfort,” she said. “Would you, please?”

  Does the pope shit in the fucking woods? I glanced at the dagger lying on my desk, and put it out of my mind. Bugger the Burned Man, it would just have to wait. I wasn’t going to let anything on God’s green earth break this spell.

  “Of course,” I said. “I’d love to.”

  Dear God, would I ever. She smiled and went into the bedroom while I took a very quick and much needed shower. I came through wearing a fresh pair of boxers and nothing else. She was lying in my bed wearing a white nightdress, on her side facing away from me with the sheets pulled most of the way up to her chin. Her hair was loose, spread out across the pillow.

  “Put the light out, would you please?” she said.

  I reluctantly did as she asked and slipped into bed beside her. She murmured something, and I snuggled up to her and kissed the back of her neck. I slid my hand up her side and around in front to cup a truly heavenly breast. She froze.

  “Don,” she said quietly, “what on earth do you think you’re doing?”

  Oh no…

  “Um,” I said. “I, um…”

  I wriggled quickly backwards before she felt my erection digging into her arse, and she sat up and stared at me.

  “Oh dear,” she said. “Oh I’m sorry. When I said sleep with me I meant… well, sleep. For company, do you understand? Not… anything else.”

  “Yeah,” I said, and cleared my throat. Thank fuck I had put the light out, at least she couldn’t see how red my face was. I don’t think I’d ever felt so bloody embarrassed in my life. “Sorry. I’ll, um, I’ll go in the other room.”

  “No, stay,” she said. “Please. Just keep your hands to yourself, if you don’t mind.”

  “‘Course,” I said. “Wel
l, night then.”

  “Good night,” she said.

  She lay down again, her back to me. I stared at the ceiling in the darkness, frustrated and crushed with disappointment and feeling utterly and totally fucking stupid.

  English isn’t her first language, I reminded myself. Or probably even her tenth for that matter. Something like this was bound to happen eventually.

  I clenched my fists and willed my hard-on to go away. There was no way I was going to get any sleep until it did, after all.

  God, what a fucking disaster.

  * * *

  I must have fallen asleep eventually because at some point in the night she woke me up by screaming. I sat bolt upright in bed, fumbling for the bedside light. Trixie was clutching her pillow in a death grip and seemed to still be asleep. She screamed again, and thrashed under the covers.

  “Trixie!” I said.

  I hardly dared touch her after my earlier catastrophe but I made myself shake her by the shoulder until her eyes opened.

  “What?” she said.

  “Jesus, you were screaming in your sleep,” I said. “Are you OK?”

  “Mmmm, not really,” she admitted.

  She pushed her hair back and sat up beside me, the sheets falling into her lap. I made myself look at her face, but it was a fucking struggle if I’m honest about it.

  “Another bad dream?”

  “Yes,” she said. “The same as last night. My Dominion raging at me, calling me all sorts of horrible names, hurting me, and always that miserable cat is there, rubbing round my ankles while I’m screaming.”

  “Maybe the cat’s trying to get your attention,” I said, half joking. I’m not a fan of cats, as it goes.

  Trixie frowned. “Perhaps,” she said, obviously taking my suggestion seriously. “I wonder why?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “Look, is there anything I can get you? Glass of water or something?”

  “No, thank you,” she said. “What time is it?”

  I squinted at the bedside clock. “About half four,” I said.

  “I’m just going to get up I think,” she said. “You go back to sleep if you want.”