Another Bloody Love Story

by Rachel Green

  “He’d have to be.” Rory paused, looking from Jim and Latitia to Winston and back again. “Well,” he said. “Where’s the nosh-up then?”

  “At the White Art Hotel,” said Winston. “Would you take Jim’s mum with you?”

  “If you’re sure we can’t take you to A and E…” said the ambulance man.

  “No, that’ll be fine,” said Jasfoup. “Mister Spencer? If you’d be so kind as to bring those items I mentioned? Latitia? Congratulations. Would you get Jim to sit on the steps, please? Don’t let him take the i-pod off yet.”

  Latitia helped Jim to the steps as the ambulance left, its siren a sullen thrumming as the driver used it to edge into the traffic. Rory used the gap created to edge his Rover into the traffic stream.

  Jasfoup watched them leave. “Mister Spencer, if you’d be so kind as to bind Mister Hunt with those three chains, please.”

  “Here,” said Jim. “You’re not chaining me up like an animal. I’ll have security down here like a shot.” He pulled out his mobile and began to punch in the number. Jasfoup nodded to Valerie, whose right hook put him out again.

  “How dare you?” said Latitia.

  “You might give him concussion,” said Meinwen.

  “What exactly is going on?” said Purvis. “I can cope with the idea of an exorcism, but I have to protest about the violence to this poor man. I don’t know what…”

  “It’s coming back,” said Pennie, appearing suddenly. “The angel. The spirit, whatever it is.”

  “…you think you’re doing in my churchyard but if you don’t…”

  “Valerie, could you take the reverend and the bishop for a quiet cup of tea somewhere?” Jasfoup turned to Chase. “The chains, man, quickly.”

  “Why don’t we go for a nice cup of tea, Purvis,” said Valerie. “Where’s Betty? Perhaps His Grace would like a lift to the station.”

  “I’ll…I’ll get a taxi, thank you.” Bishop Wolsey gathered his robes. “You’ll be hearing from me about this, Mackenzie,” he said. “I’ve never seen such a shambles at a wedding in my life.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” Purvis bowed. “I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”

  “My office, first thing Monday morning,” said Wolsey.

  Purvis sighed and looked at Valerie. “You mentioned tea?” he said. “Might there be some arsenic too?”

  “Suicide is a grievous sin,” said Valerie, seriously. “Though I could arrange the Bishop to come into contact with some.”

  Purvis looked at her, aghast. “What a thing to say!” he said. “Whatever the bishop may say or do to me, I wouldn’t want any harm to come to him.”

  “Of course not,” said Valerie. “Shall we go to the tea shop in the park?”

  Jim, unconscious, was wrapped in chains at the chest, waist and legs. Harry snapped a few last pictures before Jasfoup had a quiet word. From a distance, Felicia stifled a smile as the scent from the photographer changed from yellow nonchalance to the cerise of fear. He began to pack his cameras as quickly as he could.

  “How do you know Mister Jasfoup?” said Chase, conversationally. “Is he your accountant too?”

  “Something like that,” said Felicia. “He certainly advises me on account.”

  “He’s good like that.” Chase smiled and innocently touched her arm. “So are you seeing anyone?” he asked.

  “Turn off the music,” said Jasfoup.

  Felicia looked at Pennie’s face. That alone was proof that ghosts did indeed have emotions. “You’d be surprised,” Felicia said. She flicked the ‘off’ button and pulled out the ear beads.

  Jasfoup backed away again as the spirit descended into Jim’s unconscious body and he awoke with a jerk. “You think you can hold me with chains?” said Jim, his voice once more holding an undercurrent of menace. “No chains can bind me.”

  Jasfoup nodded to Felicia and she stepped forward. “Those chains?” she said. “They’re a damned waste of space.”

  Jim laughed and flexed his muscles. The chains didn’t budge. “What have you done, you idiot?” he said. “You’ll ruin everything.”

  “Thrice cursed chains,” said Jasfoup. “Forgive me for not getting too close.”

  “You will regret this for eternity,” said Jim. “We will destroy you, for we are legion.”

  “He’s jolly good,” said Chase. “I love the deep voice and the melodramatic posturing. He should be on the stage.”

  “Let him go,” said Latitia, struggling to open the padlocks. “You don’t know what he’s like.”

  “I think I do,” said Jasfoup. “Not a demon, but not an angel either. A saintly one condemned to serve in Hell. You’re not one of those that refused to choose a side at the Fall, so you must have been a saintly mortal championing the cause of Limbo.”

  “Limbo?” said Winston. “There aren’t any saints in Limbo.”

  “No,” said Jasfoup, “but there was a monk who defended the existence of limbo against the Church and St. Augustine. An English monk. I name you Pelagius,” he said.

  “So, what if you do know my name?” Jim braced against the chains. “You cannot dare to stop my holy purpose.”

  “Making your homunculi?” said Jasfoup. “That’s an unholy act. You’ve damned yourself, meddling in the black arts.”

  “Is this a version of Faust?” asked Chase.

  “No.” Jim ceased his struggling. “I know your nature. You must have seen the memo.”

  “What memo?” Jasfoup frowned. “You mean the one about Limbo closing, don’t you?”

  “Aye.” Jim’s body slumped, no longer held by the will of the spirit. “’To whom it may concern’,” he said. “I remember the wording clearly. ‘You are hereby given notice that by decree of His Holiness the Pope, Limbo will be closed on the Easter after Next. Please vacate the premises and arrange for the return of all keys and cessation of services.’ It made my blood boil. All that I had fought for laid to waste in one decree.”

  “I remember that,” said Jasfoup. “I remember wondering what would happen to all the souls of the unbaptised infants.” His brow furrowed. “That’s what the homunculi are for, isn’t it? You don’t need a thousand mages all giving up a bit of their power to animate them. Steve was only a prototype. You want bodies for the residents of Limbo.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Jim’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and Pelagius spoke with his own stentorian voice.

  “What’s so wrong with that? The salvation of the souls in my care exceeds any other goal. If I do nothing they will be absorbed into the fabric of Hell itself and lost without hope of redemption. Heaven will not allow them admission for they are not of an age to make an informed choice, for to accept God one must be able to resist the devil.”

  “Not that anyone ever does, these days.” Jasfoup smiled, allowing his elongated canines to show. “I applaud your motives, old son, but your methods leave a lot to be desired.”

  “Who’s he supposed to be then?” asked Chase in a whisper. “Is he supposed to be Faust or the devil?”

  “Neither,” said Felicia. “He’s possessed by the spirit of a two thousand year old heretical monk named Pelagius, who got in trouble with the Church for suggesting the souls of children shouldn’t be automatically damned through original sin.”

  “Fascinating,” said Chase. “And are they?”

  “What?”

  “Damned by original sin?”

  “Of course,” said Felicia. “But an exception was made, and instead of them going to eternal torment in Hell they would be placed in Limbo, to await the apocalypse when they would receive the judgement and, hopefully, forgiveness of God.”

  “A happy ending all round, then.”

  “Except for Pelagius, who was condemned to look after the babies he fought to protect.”


  “Rather him than me.” Chase tittered, holding his hand over his mouth. Jasfoup glanced across at him and scowled. “How come my accountant got the lead part?”

  “He’s a demon,” said Felicia.

  “Oh, I know.” Chase nodded. “The way he can manipulate tax returns is like magic.”

  “No.” Felicia frowned. “Come with me.” She took his arm and led him away. Between the wall of the churchyard and the first row of Victorian tombs was an old yew tree with branches that hung to the floor. She parted them like a curtain and led him inside.

  “I say, this is a bit unorthodox,” said Chase. “If you wanted a bit of alone time with me you could have asked, you know. Be careful of my hand, I have two broken fingers, thanks to Mister Benton and his bullies.”

  “Be quiet.” Felicia poked her head out and waited to catch Julie’s eye. She beckoned, and her sister slipped away from the proceedings. “What’s up?” she asked, joining them under the hanging fronds. “Oh. What are you doing with him?”

  “He thinks this whole thing is a play,” Felicia said. “I don’t even know why Jasfoup wanted him here.”

  “Personal growth?” Julie cocked her head to one side. “He could do with a bit of humility. The way he treated Pennie…”

  “I am still here you know.” Chase fidgeted crossly. “I’ll have you know I loved Pennie very much and she loved me. We were going to get married.”

  “Really? Is that why you took out an insurance policy on her?”

  “Yes, but it doesn’t mean I was expecting her to die.”

  “That’s not what you told your accountant.”

  “Mister Jasfoup is a tattle tale,” said Chase. “It may have crossed my mind to bump her off to begin with, but once I got to know her I changed my mind. That’s why I proposed to her. It hardly matters now, anyway, because she’s dead and my old friend Mister Benton persuaded me to sign over the assurance claim to him.” He held up his broken fingers.

  “What were you going to do with the money?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business,” said Chase, “but after settling one or two personal debts I was going to sink it into the sanctuary. I’ve got some ideas about using the animals in a campaign to curb energy wastage.”

  “Fascinating.” Julie looked at Felicia.

  “I’m almost convinced,” said the were. “How about you?”

  Chase was surprised that she didn’t look at Julie but to one side of her. He looked, but there was nothing there. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

  “Do what?” Chase tried to back away but his back was against the massive ancient trunk of the yew.

  Felicia smiled. “This is going to sting,” she said, “but only for a minute and then you’ll, see.”

  “See what?” Chase looked down expecting to see a syringe full of chemicals but the woman had nothing in her hands. He looked up again as pain flashed through both eyes and a dark shape flitted away.

  “Oh, my God!” Chase bent double, his face in his hands. “You stabbed me in the eyes, didn’t you? I’m blind.”

  “Not me,” said Felicia. “Wrack. Your sight will be fine in a minute. Better than before, in fact, though the effect only lasts a few hours. There are easier ways to do it but I can’t cast spells…”

  “…and I never learned the spell for granting Sight,” said Julie. “It’s not something I ever needed, being a natural witch.”

  “What do you mean, a natural witch?” Chase took his hands away. “Oh! I do believe my eyes have stopped watering.” He straightened up. “There’s no such thing as witches.” His face fell as he looked at them. “Oh, crap.”

  “Crap?” Julie laughed. “That’s one way of putting it. Welcome to the world of the Denizens, what you call the supernatural.”

  “Your face,” said Chase, his voice barely a whisper. “What happened to it? It was fine a moment ago.”

  “It’s fine now.” Julie touched the ruins of her right eye socket and the mass of scar tissue surrounding it. She tapped on her eyeball making a curiously hollow sound, reminiscent of leather on willow at a cricket match. “When I was sixteen I began to hear the Denizens though I couldn’t see them. I thought I was going mad, as did my dear mother, who had me locked away in a psychiatric hospital for fifteen years. When Fliss here became a werewolf…”

  Chase yelped as Felicia elongated her face into a wolf and back .

  “…she could see all the creatures I’d been hearing―the ghosts, the demons, the vampires and so on and came to get me out. I began to see the creatures as well but at the cost of my sight of the real world. I forged a magical seeing eye,” she tapped the orb again. “It helped me view the mortal world again.” She shrugged.

  “I tried wearing it in a headband for a while but clawing out my real eye was the logical course of action. Of course, I don’t have a werewolf’s ability to heal.” She smiled at her sister.

  “And I don’t have any abilities at all, except as a lookout.”

  Chase turned to the new voice and visibly sagged. “Pennie,” he said. “But you’re…”

  “…Dead. Quite.” Pennie stood to one side, her arms folded.

  “You don’t look any different,” said Chase. “Apart from being semi-transparent, of course. Have I gone completely insane?”

  “Not yet,” said Julie. “It’ll probably hit you tomorrow and you’ll have what the doctors call an ‘episode’ and be admitted for tests. You’ll be fine and they’ll put it down to a dream, but you’ll always wonder if there’s something just beyond your eyesight. If you’re really unlucky, you’ll remember it all with perfect clarity and spend the rest of your life trying to convince people there are demons and werewolves living among them and end your days in a cardboard box on the South Bank.”

  “Is that a homeless guy or misunderstood artist?” asked Julie.

  “Both.” said Felicia. “I’ve seen it happen.”

  “Scary stuff.” Pennie put her hands on either side of Chase’s head, using their cold, rather than pressure she couldn’t exert, to turn his head. “Did you mean all that?” she said. “All that stuff about loving me and wanting to marry me?”

  “Oh yes,” said Chase. “I didn’t know you were listening though.”

  “I know. That’s what makes it so nice. We’ll get your insurance back for you so that you can rebuild your sanctuary and do your bit to save the planet.”

  “We will?” said Felicia.

  “Though to be fair, the life of the planet can’t be altered by mortal hand,” said Wrack. He hung upside-down from a branch. “Wotcha,” he said. “I seem to have been left out of the introductions. I’m Wrack.” He held out a scaly hand.

  Chase backed off for the second time, scraping his shoulder blade on a sharp twig. He looked from the scaly snout full of teeth to Felicia, who despite being a werewolf looked the most normal, who nodded.

  “How do you do?” he said, shaking the proffered paw, but turning his head slightly to be clear of the creature’s stinking breath. “What are you, exactly? A demon?”

  “Gawd bless you, guv’nor, no.” Wrack did an aerial flip to land on Julie’s shoulder. “I’m an imp. Lowest of the low in demonic circles, unless you’re counting gremlins and who would?” He paused and stared at Chase.

  “Er…not me.” Chase shook his head. “I didn’t even know they existed until you mentioned them.”

  “That’s how it should be.”

  Felicia looked out from the tree. “They’re still talking,” she said. “What is there to talk about so much?”

  “They’re probably swapping tales of the underworld,” said Julie. “Jasfoup doesn’t get a chance, normally.”

  “Er, what did you mean when you said mortals couldn’t change the world,” said Chase.

  The imp s
wivelled its head to talk to him. “Ineffability,” he said. “Did you ever make up a plastic aeroplane kit when you were a kid?”

  “A few,” Chase said. “Why?”

  “Did you ever get fed up with them and take one down, pour petrol over it and set it alight?” said Wrack. “Most kids do.”

  “I did, actually,” said Chase. “It was a Hurricane. I hadn’t painted it very well and my friend Michael laughed at it.”

  “The world is God’s aeroplane model,” said Wrack. “It’ll heat up when He wants it to heat up, and no mortal will make it otherwise. No demon, neither.”

  “That’s not very encouraging,” said Chase.

  “Did I say it was supposed to be?” Wrack turned back to Julie. “There’s nothing I can do about the monk,” he said. “What are your orders?”

  “Find this Benton chap would you?” said Julie. “Let’s get Chase his dog pound back.”

  “I don’t take dogs, actually,” said Chase. “Any other animal that’s been abandoned or needs a home, but no dogs or cats. They have plenty of rescue centres already.”

  “He has a point,” said Pennie. “Sorry, Felicia.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Felicia. “I owe him a goat anyway.” She ducked out of the other side of the tree, leading the others away from the tower steps toward the car park, where her car had an excess penalty parking ticket. She ripped it off and climbed in, the soft top folding down as soon as the key turned in the ignition. “All aboard.”

  Wrack appeared in mid air, as if a window had suddenly opened and dropped onto Julie‘s shoulder. “He’s at a scrap merchants on Oldham Road,” he said. “With two other blokes that look like classic henchmen.”

  “That’s because they are,” said Chase. “Speaker and Dog. They pinched my pig yesterday.”

  “Not Kermit?” said Pennie.

  “Yes,” said Chase. “They were going to sell him to a laboratory.”

  “That’s horrible,” said Pennie. “We have to save Kermit, too.”

  Felicia stayed silent. The last thing she was going to do was rescue farm animals. Not unless she was hungry.