by Amy Cross
"Yeah," Darla says, no longer hiding her contempt. "At this time of night. Now fuck off, Jeremy". She spits his name as if it's the most disgusting thing she's ever heard.
Jeremy stares at her for a moment. "Fuck you too, bitch," he says, turning and staggering away. When he's by the bar, he turns and shouts at the top of his voice. "Fucking bitch!"
"Nice guy," I say.
Darla nods. "Led by his dick, like most men. I don't suppose he'll ever -" She suddenly pauses, frowns, and then widens her eyes.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing," she says, her voice trailing off. "Nothing..."
I sit and wait for her to say something else. From the look in her eyes, it's clear that she's got a plan. "Darla?" I ask eventually. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," she says. "Just... I'm just thinking about... No, that wouldn't work, it's..." She stares into space for a moment. "I can't imagine there'd be... But if it..." She looks at me. "I've got an idea".
"About Duncan?" I ask.
She nods. "I've got a plan. It's not the best plan in the world, but it might just work. It's definitely better than anything else we can try". She looks at her watch. "Come on," she says, getting to her feet. "We have to go and do something monumentally stupid and incredibly embarrassing, and slightly dangerous, and possibly damaging, but I think it might be our only chance of finding your friend Duncan in time".
I stare at her, not sure what she means or what her plan is. "Darla," I say, "this isn't the time to go running off on some crazy chase. We need to find Duncan -"
"That's what we're gonna do," she says.
"How?" I ask impatiently.
"Duncan's buried on hallowed land, right?" she says, grinning. "So we have to un-hallow all the land in London. Right away. Right now. And there's only one way to do that. Fortunately, I'm an expert". She leans in close to me. "I'm the queen of filth, and I'm gonna solve all your problems".
5
It takes us half an hour to get back to Lambeth, and Darla immediately leads me to the steps of the local council hall. She stares up at the lit windows and smiles. "Brilliant," she says. "They're here". She turns to me. "Every week, some of the local priests have a meet-up here to discuss churchy things. I remember it from when I was younger. Thank fuck these people don't change their habits. They just plod along here, have tea and biscuits, and talk crap before going home to their churches. Really boring and totally useless, normally. But this time it's a God-send. Literally, maybe".
It's cold, with a heavy rain starting to fall and a strong wind starting to pick up. I can't help wondering if we couldn't be using our time more effectively, perhaps by actually looking for Duncan.
"You're not convinced, are you?" Darla says, smiling at me. "That's okay. It's a pretty crazy plan".
"You haven't told me what it's about yet," I say.
"Well, you said it yourself. The problem with Duncan is that he's been buried on hallowed ground. Blessed ground. And we can't check all the hallowed ground in London, can we? Not in time".
I open my mouth to reply.
"Of course we can't," she continues. "So what's the alternative?" She waits for me to say something, but I'm kind of lost. "You don't get it, do you?" she asks. "Oh darling, think about it. If we can't get to all the hallowed ground in time, then we have to get rid of the hallowed ground".
I stare at her. "Get rid of it?"
"Get rid of it," she says, grinning at me. "Look, I know it's a crazy plan, but it's better than no plan at all".
"Yeah, okay," I say, "but how do we get rid of hallowed ground?"
Darla nods. "It's not easy. Basically, every priest, when he takes over a church, blesses the grounds. The grounds become his, they're linked to him, they're blessed by him. The blessing only holds for as long as the priest is pure and strong. If he wavers or falters, if his mind becomes filled with sinful things, the blessing becomes null and void and he has to go and do it again. Not a problem, right? Well, this time it's gonna be a problem. We're gonna get all the priests here, and then we're gonna make the whole of London filthy again. You know, morally speaking".
"Okay..." I say, still not convinced.
"It's simple," she smiles. "We can't get Duncan out of hallowed ground in time because we can't find him. So we have to un-hallow all the ground in London. And there's only one way to do that. Corrupt all the priests with filth". She leads me up the steps and into the front of the building. "Just follow my lead," she says. "You don't have to do anything, just watch and wait. And be ready".
We reach a small door, which is slightly open. From inside, there's the sound of people talking politely in hushed tones. As we peer into the room, we see five or six priests sitting around a table. It looks like a pleasant enough gathering, very civilised and not at all the kind of place where you'd expect two female werewolves to burst in and... Well, I don't know what we're going to do, exactly. That's Darla's department.
Suddenly Darla pushes the door open and steps into the room. I follow, tentatively, not sure what to do or say. I feel the eyes of the priests focused on us. Honestly, I don't think I've been inside a church since I was about five years old. Maybe it's the lack of habit, or maybe it's the werewolf blood running through my veins, but I feel really odd in here. It's a holy place, and I feel like I don't belong.
"Can we help you?" asks one of the priests, turning to us as we reach their table.
"I..." Darla's voice sounds weak and wavering. "I don't know," she says. "No, I'm sorry". She turns and heads back towards the door.
"Wait!" one of the other priests calls out.
Darla turns back to them. She looks terrified and confused, nothing like the Darla I know. She stares at the priests, then she holds up her gloved hand as if she's in pain. "I think you're the only ones who can do anything for me," she says. She pulls the glove off her hand, revealing the fleshless, bloody mess. There's an audible gasp in the room. "I feel him inside me. In my heart. And he is doing wonderful things to me". She pauses, then she starts to whisper.
"I'm sorry," says one of the priests. "Can you speak up, please. I can't hear what you're saying".
Darla whispers a little louder, but still too softly for anyone to hear.
"Please," says the priest. "Can you -"
"Jesus Christ proclaims my need!" she suddenly shouts at them.
One of the priests gets up and comes over, staring at Darla's hand.
"What has happened to you, my child?" he asks, clearly shocked.
Darla holds her hand right up so he can see it. With no flesh, it's just a collection of muscle-covered bones with veins running through it. And then, slowly, Darla clenches her fist tighter and tighter, squeezing and squeezing, and blood starts to squeeze out and run down onto her wrist.
"Stop that," the priest says, shocked.
Darla unclenches her fist.
"What happened to your hand?" the priest asks. "Why are you here?"
"Jesus," says Darla. "I have been touched. He is working within me. Speaking to me. Being with me. Telling me things. Things to tell to you".
The priest stares at her. He clearly doesn't believe her, but her hand - with its lack of flesh - is certainly a dramatic sight.
"Perhaps you should calm down," the priest says. "We need to get you some medical attention for your hand and -"
"No!" Darla shouts, causing everyone in the room - including me - to jump. "No medical attention. This is... just one of the signs from Jesus that is evident on my body. I'll show you another". She lifts up her shirt to reveal her belly, and then with one quick motion she slashes her skin.
"My child!" shouts the priest, stepping forward to help her.
"No!" Darla shouts, stepping back. "Watch!" We all look at her belly as blood trickles from the wound, but within seconds the wound itself heals and soon it's as if it never happened. "Jesus is within me," Darla says. "Don't you see? He heals me. The Lord Jesus Christ heals me".
The priest stares at her belly. "That's not
possible," he says slowly. He turns to the other priests. "Did you see that?"
"It's a trick," one of the priests says.
"It's not a trick!" Darla screams at them. She storms over to the priest who doubted her. "Does this look like a trick?" She reaches her hand up to her face, and at first it's hard to see what she's doing but then suddenly she pulls her hand away and her eyeball falls from the socket, landing on the floor. She stares at the priest, her one good eye alongside a bloody socket.
The priest just stares up, completely shocked. Then he runs to the corner, grabs a rubbish bin and vomits.
Darla turns her back on the priests, puts her hands over her face and groans. "Dear Father," she says slowly. "As a sign to these men, please heal me". She looks over at me and, with her one remaining eye, she winks. Then she turns back to the priests and slowly removes her hands from her face to reveal that her eye has grown back. It's an impressive trick. I know werewolves recover from injuries fast, but even so, that's a very impressive trick.
The priest stares at her new eye, then looks down at the old one on the floor.
"I must speak with you all," Darla says suddenly. There's a different tone to her voice; she sounds more serious, more certain, almost as if someone else is speaking through her. "Gather your brothers. I must speak to every priest in London. Right now. Our Lord Jesus Christ has an important message for you all. He has chosen me - a common whore -" As she says that, her voice wavers a little. "I am to deliver his sacred message but I must address all the priests in London. That is the Lord's command".
The priests all start making phone calls. I walk over to Darla, but she stares at me as if she's never met me before. "Get thee away from me," she says coldly. "Unclean one".
"Really?" I say. "I'm the unclean one? Have you met yourself?"
"Heathen," she mutters, turning away with venom in her eyes. It's hard not to wonder if she's carrying this a bit too far. I look at my watch. We're losing time, and this is taking too long.
Within twenty minutes, other priests have started to arrive to witness the miracle of Darla. Within forty minutes, there are more than a hundred in the room, and Darla has gone to the far end of the room, where a small raised platform allows her to be seen by everyone. She's still acting strangely, muttering away to herself under her breath and occasionally shouting about people being unclean and not believing. I watch, assuming that this is all part of her plan, though she's very convincing... almost too convincing. Part of me worries that Darla has started to believe that all of this is true, that Jesus is really speaking through her.
Finally, after almost an hour, the room is packed with priests. They look nervous as they wait for Darla to do or say something.
"Is it true?" one of them asks me. "Is she the chosen one? Does Jesus speak through her?"
I open my mouth to answer, but I'm really not sure what to say.
"Did you see it?" asks another priest. "Did you see the miracle?"
I nod. "The thing with the eye? Yeah, I saw that".
The priests looks shocked. "I have been waiting," one of them says. "My whole life, I have been waiting for Our Lord to give us a sign like this".
"And it has come," another priest says. "Our faith was correct. The Lord has chosen this... waif... to be the vessel for his return".
Suddenly there's an ear-piercing scream from the other end of the room. Everyone looks over to see Darla, on the raised platform, clutching her face. The whole room falls silent as we wait to see what Darla will do next.
"Is every priest here?" she asks.
"The Lord speaks through me," she says as the priests all go over to watch her. "The Lord is in me. He performs his acts through me. It is His will that you are gathered here to witness this".
Apart from Darla's voice, the room is deathly silent. You could hear a pin drop.
"Is everyone here?" Darla asks, her voice sounding weak and faltering. "Every priest in London must be here".
There's a murmur among the priests. "We are all here," one of them says eventually.
Darla nods, then she stands up straight, raises her shirt and once again she uses the sharp finger nails of her fleshless hand to slice her belly. Blood runs from the wound, but within half a minute the wound is healed. There's a murmur from the priests.
"Look!" Darla shouts. "I have seen unclean things!" She puts her hand to her face and with a quick, clean action she rips out both of her eyes, throwing them to the ground. The priests all gasp, staring at the eyeballs. On the stage, blood pours from Darla's eye sockets. She turns her back to the crowd for a moment, then turns back around and her eyes have grown back. A hush falls on the room. The priests are stunned. I find it hard to stifle a small smile at the theatrics of Darla's performance.
"Good," says Darla. "I have your attention. You are the holiest men in London. Combined, you have blessed half the land in this city. You have made so much hallowed ground. The Lord has noticed what you have done, and he is thankful. But the time has come for another service. Can you do the Lord's bidding once again?"
"Anything!" shouts one of the priests.
"Anything?" she shouts. "Will you do anything that the Lord commands of you?"
"Anything!" is the chorus that rings out from the priests.
Darla nods. "Anything," she repeats, then suddenly she lifts her shirt off and stands topless. She slips her jeans down, then the rest of her clothes until she is completely naked before all the priests. I've never seen her naked before, but I have to admit, she has a stunning body. "I need a man to make love to me," she says.
Silence in the room.
"I need a man's body against my body. Inside my body. I need to be filled with his love". She puts her hands on her breasts. "I need to be pleasured, and in return I need to give pleasure. I need total fulfilment of my desires. It can be just one of you, or it can be more than one of you at the same time. But the Lord demands that I am satisfied. I am yours, to do with as you please. I am woman. You are man. The Lord commands your attention to my body".
Silence in the room.
"And..." She seems to be struggling to work out what to say. "And if any one you be... inclined towards your fellow man rather than to a woman... if thou... knowest what I mean... then I command thee to make love to one another. All must have pleasure. Dark, carnal pleasure. 'Tis not a sin".
She falls is completely silent. The priests just stare at her. The silence seems to last forever.
"I need a man," Darla says in a high, almost Marilyn Monroe kind of voice.
More silence.
Darla looks at me. "Brains, ambition and great tits," she says. "Okay... Now!"
I stare back at her. "What?"
"It's done!" she shouts, still naked. "Look at them! Horny as hell, full of lust. Lust's a sin. All their blessings are broken. Find Duncan!"
I look at the priests, all of whom are staring at Darla's naked body. They certainly look thoroughly sinful, which means all the blessed land across London should be becoming immediately un-blessed. But... I still can't detect any sense of Duncan anywhere. It's just the same emptiness I've felt for so many days. I try to remember what it felt like before, when I could sense him out there, but there's nothing.
"Come on!" Darla shouts at me. "There's got to be some sign of him!"
I shake my head. "Maybe I just can't sense him any more".
"You sensed him before," she says. "You can do it again. He has to be out there somewhere. Concentrate!"
But no matter how hard I try, there's nothing. It's fine for Darla to tell me to concentrate, but if there's nothing to hear, I can't do anything. It's as if Duncan has just stayed silent. Completely, ominously silent.
"He's not there," I say. "He's really not there". I look up at Darla. "Why isn't he out there? That can only mean one thing, right?"
Darla stares back at me.
"That can only mean..." I pause. I can't say it. I can't say what I know is true.
I can see by the look in her eyes
that Darla doesn't want to say it either. We must be too late to save Duncan.
6
The room is silent. All the priests who were staring at Darla are now staring at me. Up on the platform, Darla is quickly putting her clothes back on. I'm pretty sure it's time for us to get out of here, but all I can think about is the fact that we're too late. The reason I can't sense Duncan isn't that he's buried on hallowed ground, it's that he's dead, which means he must have been buried on hallowed ground too long ago and now his body can't recover. Which means he's gone. Lost. Dead.
"I think you'd better explain yourselves," says one of the priests, sounding shaken.
"No," shouts Darla. "I think you had better explain yourselves!". They all turn to look at her. "This is important," she says, her voice taking on a serious tone. "Is every priest here? Is there any chance that someone isn't here. Is there..." But she's clutching at straws, and she knows it. Her voice tapers off, and the look in her eyes is a clear indication that she realises we've failed. "Sorry," she says eventually. She comes down off the platform and hurries over to me. "We've still got time," she says. "We can still find Duncan, maybe we got it wrong and -"
"It's over," I say.
"Don't say that".
"It's true". I stare at her. "Come on, do you really have another great plan? This was a stupid idea all along, he's... He must have already been buried for so long that it's too late to save him. That's the only explanation, isn't it?" I wait for her to say something, but it's like she can't even look me in the eye any more. "Isn't it?" I shout.
She nods. "I'm sorry," she says. "I'm really, really sorry".
"He's dead," I say flatly. "I was supposed to save him, and I failed. And he's dead. We might as well accept it".
Darla takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she says. "I'm really, really sorry".
"Excuse me," says a voice from behind Darla. We both turn to find that the priests are still watching us. "Would one of you like to tell us what has been going on?"
"No," says Darla. "Sorry. None of your business".
"I think it is our business," the priest says. "We all say with our own eyes what happened to you up there".
