Diary Of An Occult Resolution Assistant

by Chris Norgate

  There was a shop, it stood out from the other well maintained buildings by looking more like a pile of bricks that had fallen down and been re-stacked in order of discolouration. Glass as old, misshaped and thick as 18th century bottles and with as much translucence and clarity, filled wooden frames that were decorated with flaking paint everywhere it hadn't already rotted away. There was, even at this time, a few shoppers either staggering out with microwaved inedibles or strangely whole bags full of groceries. Not a single shopper matched in height, appearance, style or species but they all shared one key feature; they all played the universal anthems associated with 'Others'.

  I enquired whether Hastings heard the magical symphony of the hustle and bustle of everyday life, or as close to everyday life 'Others' can pass off in our mortal world. He looked at me blankly as if I were a child talking through with great inaccuracies of a cartoon watched moments before that already made no sense to any adult unlucky enough to be sat in the same room - So, just me then.

  The door opened and a thick fog of stale air escaped, a small brass bell rang our arrival as we crossed the threshold . A small man hunched over a counter reading a paper casualty looked up and took the smallest of glances in our direction before lowering his head back down to the paper. His long lank hair barely covering his balding head sagged to the counter, the majority on the left side had fallen into a chipped mug of coffee and had soaked it up so it appeared as if he had grown out brown tints.

  "Pet food in isle 5." he sneered through teeth stained in an assortment of brown shades.

  We walked up the first aisle that was home to the chillers all rattling away with steam drifting from behind. Old wood shelves that sat upon wrought iron brackets each cast into shapes of heavenly Angels riding on rays of striking light or twisted souls trapped in torture with raised moulded flames licking at their skin. What was on the shelves looked normal enough on first impressions, boxes of cereals sat side by side with jars of jam and packets of biscuits; but on closer examination, which I took while reaching out to put some groceries into a sharp edged and a wicked finger trap basket I found minced placenta in the jam jars, packets of chocolate coated crushed scabs with the tears of virgins and a box of cornflakes......gluten and salt free! I passed on the chance to stock up for the house - if I ever find my way back there, and with growing doubts the milk we'll be getting wouldn't have originated from anything even remotely bovine I looked into the chillers.

  A rat the size of a dog was curled up on the thin metal roof next to a metal box with heat haze being given off and a thick electrical cable complete with exposed copper wires sticking through gnawed areas on the side. Dead flies were everywhere. The milk looked fresh and some of the bottle contained milk that was white, you don't want to know what the other bottles contained; but there was a recognised brand of milk amongst the other.......chilled liquids, so I popped it in the basket, cursed as a loose woven wire element of its construction snapped catching my fingers a good whack and hurried to the till with haste to get out of here top of my agenda. I noticed a tall thin individual watching us from a few aisles over, his height easily putting his almond shaped thin head over the products on the top shelf, he moved the flop of hair that covered his face down to a sharp pointed nose and eyed us hungrily. The music I heard from him was that of bow being drawn a wire string under high tension, it was like being watched by a hungry shark in a paddling pool.

  The troll at the till took an age to recognise my arrival at the checkout and even longer to fold his paper over and acknowledge he had a task to perform.

  "Did you find everything you were after? We do a lovely line in human cuisine." He chuckled nastily.

  "We did thank you." I said as sickly sweet as I could manage. "We didn't come in for food, but I will consider you if I plan a dinner party in the near future."

  "I don't think he mean food for humans." said Hastings into my ear quietly.

  "I know, but I wasn't trying to think about it." I whispered back.

  We looked back at the troll thing who was waving the little bottle of milk against a barcode reader with fingers and as shapeless as gourmet sausages stuffed by a blind butcher who's already lost a few fingers through previous on the job accidents. He wasn't looking at what he was doing, he was looking at us and smiling with all of his very sharp looking teeth.

  The bell rang behind us and the old human trait of looking at where the noise comes from meant I looked away from the grinning clerk. The gentleman who caused the bell to ring took one look at Hastings and I and abruptly u-turned and left causing the bell to ring again.

  "89p." asked the clerk and held out a huge slab of meat that could have been his hand for the money and I then realised I had not a penny on me. With a panicked expression that alerted my companion I turned quickly to Hastings.

  "Please say you have some money on you." I said desperately not wanting to either put the milk back or return without any to Xanthic and the Angel.

  "Alas, not a groat." came the reply and I then tapped his pockets hoping loose change had accumulated somewhere; a jingle emanated from an outside waist pocket of the coat and like a gift from God there was just enough change to cover the cost of our purchase. I dropped it onto the outstretched palm not wishing to make physical contact with the thing without some seriously thick chemical protection gloves on first.

  "Why thank you for you custom." he sneered once more opening his paper. "I do enjoy these large transactions. Do you want a bag? 5p."

  I grabbed the bottle by its little handle and we hurried out the shop glad that the cost of the milk was only a few coins and not an arm and a leg. The bell rang as the door closed and the cool night air tasted as fresh as the first air ever breathed by man in this world to me after the stuffy tainted and thick air we had just left behind. Without breaking pace or a pause I marched straight back along the superior white streetlight lit road and back to Casa Angelus.

  Friday 2nd May

  00:20

  The door was open when we got back, the butler was not present so I called out a cheery hello as we entered to alert the others of our arrival and Hastings and I went straight to the kitchen to make a brew.

  Inside was clean; not just a kitchen that had a wipe down after use, this place was clean. Every surface was bare bar a shining metal kettle, a sparkling metal toaster and taps so smart you could see yourself in the reflection off the tap heads. The sink itself was stainless, even around the plug guard that sat, spider web like over the drain hole - I know, I checked. Everything else was so white I was scared of developing snow blindness. Hastings was next to useless at the task at hand; firstly being from the middle ages his knowledge of 'having a brew' was somewhat under developed but also being a man he had no idea of his way around a kitchen even with a map. To tell the truth I was a little confused at first because none of the white plastic-coated units had handles with which to open them to hunt for cups, spoons and if luck holds out choccy biccies. Until I bumped into a free standing table-topped unit door which slowly opened without a sound did I realise they were opened by touch.

  It didn't take long to locate cups of the finest china with gold rims and pictures denoting peace and generosity to all Man from Angelic characters. They looked expensive but as no workman style mugs presented themselves they would have to serve. No biscuits either, but I did find a nice tray of water crackers and an amazing cheese in a small fridge masquerading as a cupboard next to a cooker and hob so complicated to understand I couldn't even begin to comprehend how to operate it to boil an egg let alone create a full Sunday roast with it. Thankfully I only had to produce a pot of tea to quench the thirst of the four, not quite a miracle but in the kitchen of an Angel I thought anything could be possible.

  No tray, so a square dinner plate did the job as I poured boiling water into a teapot with a built in tea-leaf strainer. Then I carried it into the hallway to give to the Big Boys. Xanthic met me as I entered the corridor between rooms; his back resting against the wal
l with one leg bent so the flat of the soul was tucked up against the wall at knee height.

  "Oh, I didn't know you were there." I said.

  "For a change I didn't do it to surprise or annoy, I just wanted a word before we go back in." Xanthic said in a way I couldn't guess at his meaning. Was it compassion or a chance for interrogation?

  "I will leave you to your peace." said Hastings using his stick to hobble past. Xanthic stopped him, placed a hand onto the man's shoulder; static rose in the small corridor and I saw Hastings' hair rise up from the roots reaching for the ceiling. He flexed his limbs and smiled, Xanthic took the stick and slapped him on the back as Hastings spryly skipped towards the bookless library.

  "Just give them a minute will you, Your friend does not belong here and his presence is causing ripples in the greater plan that Hal needs to follow so he's agreed with his superiors to take care of the problem before it becomes an issue."

  "You don't mean they are going to....." I tried to find a suitable word to express my sudden concern. ".....take him to heaven." I whispered the final word incase they heard and thought they could solve my problems in the same way.

  "No." my employer laughed, "Our friend there seems to feature very heavily in the past. Apparently he was almost canonised as a Saint but they thought him too mad for such an honour because of his tales of a glorious time of metal boxes that ride upon rivers of solid stone and a Lady so brave and bold she held the sword of a monster saving the innocents over the treasure. Now judging on how crazy most of the Saints were, they must have thought him a raving cuckoo!"

  "So? he couldn't he have said that stuff and then got stuck in the ground?" I enquired not believing anyone back then could have known this far into the future the Earth must appear like an alien planet.

  "No, he did not. We pinpointed when he left and it was years before his conversion from Knight errant to a Brother in a monastery; so, because of how he sidestepped time to get here the Grown-ups think they can push him in the river and float him back upstream. Don't ask me how, it’s nothing to do with me."

  "Can I say good-bye?" I almost sounded like I was pleading.

  "If you hurry, he's being made the offer to return home. I have no idea what Hal will do if the ape-man says no."

  I hurried to enter the library but Xanthic stopped me.

  "I need to ask you exactly what you got out of the Under-realm. What was it you were sent to retrieve for me?" he asked.

  "I have no idea, you just said a package, but it can't have been very big because the boxy thing I could have taken was only shoebox size."

  "And this Master you were talking about in the car didn't say anything about it or use any kind of language to help us guess at the contents?" he looked hard at me as if trying to use his sight to dig the information out of my skull.

  "No, I have no idea what you wanted or what was there, I was lucky to get out of there alive and you sent me in there with confidence everything would be alright. I really hate you sometimes you know; I could have ended up dead or trapped like Hastings chained to a rock for centuries as the play thing for an evil bitter gnome."

  "Thanks the thing Valey. I haven't sent you anywhere, I have never recorded any instructions to give to you, in fact the very idea of recording my image anywhere fills my mouth with a bitter taste like poison. You never know who will see it and recognise me from past misdemeanours. No thank you. Now that’s where it gets very interesting. You went down into the ground through a wormhole into one of the Under-realms and you came out again. But Valey, my Valey is currently sat in a hospital bed waiting for me to visit her with a few books and grapes, humans love grapes in hospitals. So that raises the question. Who are you?"

  I was shocked to the core and struck dumb with the implications of what was said. "I.....I....I....I'm me, Valey, you know me; stop joking. Please."

  Xanthic laughed at my distress and I wanted to punch him.

  "Relax, I know it’s you and of that there can be no mistake. I knew you were out in the wilds and I know with full confidence you are here and in a hospital bed a few miles away."

  "You are a bastard, you know that, I thought you were about to hurt me or something and accuse me of being an imposter."

  "If I thought that you wouldn't be breathing, so relax. I know where you are anywhere, which is what makes this all interesting. I believe you have travelled the road least walked and somehow ended up at the end before you even started. This gives us an advantage."

  "An advantage? Ended before I start?" I didn't know what he was on about but he seemed excited about it. "Who do we have an advantage over?"

  He thought for a second; "Not exactly sure who or what we have an advantage over right now, but the fact you've done what you've done means there is something out there pulling strings or stirring up trouble, and now we know what we're going to do before we know we're going to do it." I'm sure there was a logic to that statement but right now I couldn't follow it.

  "Look, I need you to answer a few questions and fill us in on what's happened to you and we can go from there. But, and it’s a huge but, Hal works for the other team and I don't want them having unrivalled access to everything." Xanthic squeezed my shoulders in what I took as team mate solidarity, I just wish his fingernails weren't so claw-like as tiny lightning bolts of pain triggered within my nerves as they broke through the thin cloth of my top. "We got to keep a little something back for just us don't we." Although he was wearing dark glasses I knew without seeing it he had winked.

  "Is that tea stone cold or are you waiting for a skin to form on it?" Hal's voice carried through the closed door at his normal spoken levels but he had definitely projected it so we could have heard it no matter where we were in the house at that volume.

  "Listen to him!" was all Xanthic could say. "Anyone would think he could die of thirst that way he carries on sometimes. He maybe an Angel but he can be quite catty in a coffee-shop if they keep him waiting."

  Xanthic led the way into the library and I followed carrying the tray. The door swung back and almost removed it and the pot from my hands.

  "Thanks for the help." I said to my employer's back.

  The room had had a bit of a makeover in my absence. A single office style wire chair with a red cushion and backrest was in the middle of the room and two much more substantial chairs a few feet away were facing it; the complete library of Harahel, the librarian to God was sat on a small table between the double chairs with a decanter of wine and two glasses. I knew with certainty the single chair was for me and with equal certainty neither of the two wine glasses were mine. This was going to be the interview from Hell; Alan Sugar eat your heart out.

  I took my seat, Xanthic and Harahel did likewise, one sat upright, hands on his crossed legs in clean bright clothes. The other sprawled in the chair and overhanging the sides almost as much as he inhabited the seat in ruffled blacks and dark shades. Good cop, bad cop from Heaven and Hell.

  "Tell me in your own words what has happened to you since you arrived in your hospital bed on Friday. I understand that to you this was a few days ago." Harahel spoke slowly and clearly in formal interviewer tones.

  "I had made notes in my diary" I told them, "But I don't have it here so I'll have to try and remember."

  "No issues, " said Hal, "We have a copy here." And he pulled out a few A4 printed sheets. "This covers from Friday through to you returning home after meeting a lady called Melody."

  "I haven't had a chance to put much more than that, and I guess it'll be hard to put anymore as diary printers don't take into account that I need a couple of extra days now." How did they have the print outs? Did the digital library hold books being written or that could be made into books? The fact it doesn't hold everything that happened gave me a little breathing space over holding things back.

  "Don't worry about that, just rip out a few pages at the start that you haven't used, scratch out the days and write on the new ones till you catch up." these were the words of wi
sdom according to Xanthic.

  O.K I thought, I took a deep breath and started right from the beginning covering the conversations and events of what happened as I lay in that bed.

  "Um....should I tell you when you come into it Xanthic?" I asked. "I don't want to cause some kind of temporal paradox or anything."

  "Don't worry about that, I want to know everything I will have done. Paradox's are just for TV and lazy sci-fi plots; after all, if you could go back and kill your grandpa you'll just find that your Gran had an affair or something or was married twice and you got the wrong one; although with you, you'll probably miss and end up shooting yourself in the foot: Or your Grandpa dies and you're still there and you'll live your life to its end but where ever you came from would be radically different but you'll never know what or if another you would be around. It will get terribly complicated but the Universe is Old, it’s seen it all before. So go on and don't leave anything important out." the inflection on the last part was defiantly leave important stuff out if it'll give us an advantage over the good cop. "And besides I've already read your diary so I have a fair idea of what I do next."

  I carried on; Ludo, the crying lady and the morphing blade featuring heavily. I skipped over how pathetic I was during the fight and subsequent rescues, after all this was my story and I didn't want to look unable to look after myself in front of my boss. I tried to give details of how we looked for the monster from the hospital, she was responsible for the deaths of children and unforgivable in my opinion no matter what Angels and their boss may think; and I wanted her caught for her crimes.

  I was pushed through light questioning on my activities in Wykeham and if I had actually attended the scene of the animal attacks and how they may play a part of all this and alas I had to be honest and tell them I had not and did not know. Enquiries over Mary's activities with the girls playing at Witchcraft came and went but Melody featured heavily. I did not know how she was involved but I knew she was pivotal in all of this.