by Rachel Green
Julie watched her jog to the side of the yard. The metal clad fencing was six feet high and topped with spirals of barbed wire. Fliss could jump it easily but would make noise doing so. She needed the distraction.
“What is it that you do that’s scarier than were-wolfing?” said Chase.
Julie glanced at him, her focus already shifting. The radio switched itself on, tuning to a wavelength where static was interspersed with echoes of conversation and the snik-snik-snik of interference.
Her hair flicked forwards and back as the pressure between the land of the dead and the land of the living equalised. The strands linked to her false eye, ochre worlds beyond the portal thrummed with energy. She smiled at Chase, whose locks had been similarly ruffled. “I talk to the dead,” she said.
“Oh. Is that all?” Chase settled back into the seat, almost disappointed. “I’ve been doing that all morning.”
“There’s something binding us together and when I find out what it is I’m going to smash it into tiny pieces.” The speaker walked out from the portal, his flesh rotting and peeling away as he left the field of the dead. Bulging grey eyes barely glanced at Chase as he cowered in the back seat. “Nice car. I used to have a Chevy, you know. Red.”
“Hi Pete.” Julie sat stock still in the passenger seat and gave a little wave. “Think your car’s in there?” she said, nodding toward the scrap yard where cars were piled three and four high. The spirit followed her gaze.
“I very much doubt it,” he said. “This was in the seventies.”
“That’s a shame, because I really need a distraction and it’d be easier if I had a spirit with a connection to one of those cars.”
“There are some who haven’t yet passed,” said Pete. “Give me a minute, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Cheers.” Julie smiled at the decaying corpse. “Anything I can do for you, just let me know.”
“The moment it occurs to me.” Pete rapped skeletal fingers on the bonnet. “Actually, there is one thing.”
“Sure! Anything I can do.”
Pete leered in close to her, the foetid stench of the grave sweeping over the car.
“Stop Following Me!”
Julie was promptly and violently sick over the side of the car. Chase, having managed to keep himself together during the apparition’s visit, caught the stench and vomited as well.
Pete laughed and withdrew, pointing toward the scrap yard.
* * * *
“Here boy.”
Pennie rubbed her thumb against her fingers trying to encourage them, but the two great dogs backed away from her with their stubby tails firmly down.
“Come on, boy. I’m not going to hurt you.”
She crouched low to the ground, gliding toward the dogs as fast as they could back away. Finally able to stand it no longer, they turned and ran. She followed, using her new abilities to keep up with them. Unfortunately, this scared them all the more and they barrelled through the yard as if all Hell was behind them.
She saw them vanish through a gap in the fence that would have been a godsend to anyone wanting to rob the place.
“Oh no,” she thought. “The road!”
* * * *
The sudden rumble of an engine took Doug by surprise. “Where’s that coming from?” he asked John, who had his nose stuck inside an engine removing parts for a customer at the garage.
“How should I know?” John lifted his head out with a sideways manoeuvre designed to avoid the buckled bonnet. “It’s not his Jag, is it?”
“Nah.”
Doug could see Mister Benton’s car. Speaker was leaning on the bonnet, reading the paper. “Do you reckon it’s one of the wrecks?”
“It can’t be,” John started walking from row to row trying to pinpoint the noise. “It’s one of these,” he said at the far side, pointing to the five recently acquired cars. “Lorra welding, guv. The car’s not worth the labor alone, if you ask me. You can take it away and get a second opinion but you’ll have to borrow a flat bed…”
The Rover, first to be bought and therefore nearest the fence, flicked its lights on and off. The tone of the engine altered from idling to gear and the vehicle slammed forward into the Metro in front, which cannoned into the Honda in front of that.
“Love-a-duck,” said John. “He’ll have a bloomin’ fit.” He hurried to the back fence to pull the driver out and stopped dead. “There’s no-one driving it,” he called.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Doug, approaching from the other side. “There’s got to be someone. Stands to reason, that does. He’s slipped out to where you can’t see him.”
“I tell you there isn’t.”
“What’s going on?” Speaker had put down his paper and headed toward the noise. Dog was looking worried but remained at the office door. Felicia nodded at his dedication to duty from her vantage point near the top of one of the stacks of cars. Not one to be easily distracted, there.
She dropped lightly behind John and put him in a choke hold. He blacked out in seven seconds. No fighter, he. Doug had the opportunity to see her up close and personal as she partially shifted in front of him. He dropped the crowbar he was carrying in shock and she punched him in the temple. Two down.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” Speaker had crept up on her. She was upwind of him so he had taken her by surprise but his overconfidence let him down. Why did they have to gloat? Felicia ducked the swing of his iron bar and did a reverse kick to his stomach, sending him backwards several feet. He grunted and recovered, holding the bar like a short staff and feinting with either end.
Felicia moved with each feint, lulling him into a committed strike. As soon as he did she ducked into his guard, blocked the strike and broke his arm. He went down with a yelp and she bent his iron bar into a makeshift leg iron. Three.
She sauntered across the open area in front of the office, nodding to the spirit Pete had summoned to start the Rover. She could see the ochre light of the Dead Lands on the other side of the fence and hoped it wasn’t taking too hard a toll on Julie.
Dog faced her, an American baseball bat trailing from his hand.
“I’ll hurt you if you don’t move,” she said.
He shook his head and stayed where he was.
“I’m warning you.” She came two paces closer.
“Are you a werewolf?” he asked.
“What?” Felicia stopped.
“You smell funny,” said Dog. “Like a wet dog in the woods…and rain…and snow…and the sound of a memory…”
“What are you talking about?” Benton shoved past him and aimed a gun at Felicia’s head. He advanced quickly, using his bulk and speed and the weapon to intimidate her. “I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing here,” he said, “but you’ve got three seconds tops to get out again before I blow your bloody doors off.”
“Mister Benton,” said Felicia, putting her hands up. “I’ve come on behalf of my client, Mister Charlton Spenser. I believe you have some paperwork that belongs to him.”
“What if I have?” said Benton. “Is it worth your life to recover it for him?” He moved closer, until the muzzle of the gun was pointed right between her eyes. His finger whitened on the trigger.
Being inside her guard was exactly where Felicia wanted him to be. Her hands were already at head height, so a twist to her right both took her out of the firing line and caused her open hand to connect with Benton’s ear, forcing a sonic wave to send agony shooting up through his head into his brain. The gun fired as it went skidding off into the dirt. Benton collapsed, clutching his hand to his ear.
Felicia looked up at Dog, who had fallen to the ground clutching his leg. His trousers were already steeped in blood. “Do you want an ambulance?” she said.
Dog shook his head and ripped h
is trouser leg to expose the wound. As Felicia watched, the bullet appeared at the edge of the wound and dropped to the ground. He looked up sheepishly as the wound closed.
Felicia didn’t say a word, but stalked past him into the office. Chase’s documents were easy to find on Benton’s desk and she scooped them into a cardboard file. Since the safe was open, she also helped herself to the five hundred he owed her, and took a moment to write a receipt for it.
When she got outside again Dog was helping Benton to his car. He watched her open the gates and leave.
Dog got as far as opening the driver’s door before he noticed the occupants.
Two very frightened, very angry Doberman Pinschers.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Latitia’s eyes narrowed. “Sacrifice?” she said, setting herself into a boxer’s stance, her fists clenched and ready to pummel the imp, for the sake of having something to hit as much as anything. “You stay away from me.”
Keritel held up his hands in surrender. “Ooh,” he said. “I’m so scared.” He dropped them again and picked up another skull from the pile. “It’s not me you should be afraid of, love,” he said. “There are two bags of marbles between three people in this room and I’ve still got all mine. Where has he got all these skulls etched, that’s what I want to know. It took me two weeks to etch the thirty-one sigils of binding and then he produces another fifteen complete skulls overnight. They’re all perfect, too. How did he do it?”
Latitia, feeling a bit silly about the boxer pose, put her hands down again. “Angels can do anything,” she said.
“What do you mean, an angel?”
“Jim. He’s possessed by an exalted spirit. I thought it was a demon but I was wrong. It might as well be a demon, to judge by the depravity.”
“A friggin’ exalted spirit?” said Keritel. He sank down onto the pile, the skull in his hands dropping to the floor and rolling to the edge of the circle where it stared at Latitia. “I should have spotted a possession. Why didn’t I burn?”
“How should I know? The other demon burned. The one in the church. Perhaps he’s become more saintly now he’s out of Limbo.”
“Huh. That explains it,” said the imp. “He would have been covered in smut.”
“Why are you so peeved, anyway?”
“Because I’ve been had,” Keritel rolled another cigarette, lit it and began pacing the confines of the circle. “I was promised his soul if I helped him to carve these skulls and obviously it’s not going to happen, is it?”
Latitia shrugged. She leaned forward to see what Jim was up to, but he was still busy spraying water over the mold. She glanced around for a weapon but could see nothing. She turned back to Keritel. “You called me ‘Sacrifice’,” she said. “Is he going to kill me then?”
“It stands to reason,” said the imp. “Something’s got to power these homunculi and he seems to favor human spirits. You shouldn’t worry, though, because it’d have to be a voluntary act.” He laughed. “It’s not like you’re going to offer to obey him voluntarily, is it? Not like the last one. He worked for him so he had no choice.”
“Steven Lowry?” said Latitia. “His wife wanted to know what happened to him.”
“Now you know,” said Keritel. “He’s all tied up inside that plastic monstrosity. Probably will be for eternity.”
“Eternity?” said Latitia. “How does that work?”
“It’s a product of using the thirty-one sigils instead of the standard twenty-four,” said the imp. “The spirit will be contained in the skull for as long as the skull is in one piece. They have Mahalaleel in the British Museum, you know. It really annoys him that he’s stuck there talking to deadbeats.”
“Mahahaleel?” Latitia frowned. “The name rings a bell.”
“You’ve read your Bible,” said the imp. “He was the great-grandson of Adam, before the flood. The tales he used to tell…”
“So that thing will live for as long as the skull is intact?” said Latitia, her concentration shifting back to the problem at hand. “Who’s in the one he’s just made?”
“No-one yet,” said Keritel. “He hasn’t done the head. Look! He’s opening the mold so you’ll be able to see the body.”
“Oh, my god.” The blood drained from Latitia’s face as she crossed herself. “It’s me.”
* * * *
“Where’s he going to go?” said Jasfoup from the passenger seat of Winston’s car. “He’s heading toward the Manor.”
“They’ll be going to Magelight.” Valerie frowned. “Let us out at the next corner.”
Jasfoup twisted toward the two women in the back seat. “Do you not want to see it through to the end?” he asked.
“Of course, but I know the way through the tunnels,” said Valerie. “Come on, Meinwen.”
Winston pulled in to the side of the road and the two women climbed out. “Laboratories are on the third sub-level,” Valerie said. “It’s my guess that’s where they’ll go.”
* * * *
“How can you tell?” asked the imp. “It’s got no head yet.”
“Trust me,” said Latitia. “I recognize my own body. He said the plaster cast was for a sculpture.”
“It’s certainly a piece of art.” Keritel whistled. “Don’t worry. Just don’t sign anything.”
“Like a wedding certificate?” Latitia held out her hand, where a white gold band contrasted beautifully with her dark skin.”
Keritel examined it, nodding politely. “I’d start worrying soon, if I were you,” he said.
“Help me, please.”
Keritel sighed. “I’m a sucker for a pretty face,” he said. “I would if I could, but I can’t get out of this circle. Not if I want to be in that room at any rate. I can get out, but as soon as I get anywhere within five hundred yards of this I’m pulled back in.”
“What if I broke the circle?”
“I told you, you can’t. A circle has to be collapsed by its maker and he won’t do that.”
“Tell me the words and I’ll break it,” said Latitia.
“I don’t know them.” Keritel sighed. “It would be seven of the fifty-eight words of power but I don’t know which seven, let alone what order they were in.”
Latitia pulled a pen out of her clutch bag. She’d saved it as a souvenir of signing the marriage register. “Could you show me them and I’ll write them down,” she said. “I have a talent for picking random letters.”
“Sure,” said the imp. “But you need something to write them down on.”
“No problem.” Latitia ripped off a long strip from her white silk wedding dress, using her teeth to start the tear.
“Cool,” said Keritel. “I like an innovative woman.” He picked up one of Steven’s discarded bones and his etching tool. “Right,” he said. “The first sigil is Tchiphameron and it looks likes this…”
* * * *
“I thought you worked here.”
“I do.” Winston stabbed at several buttons. “I never go any further than the security desk though. I’ve never been to the laboratories.”
He stepped forward as the elevator doors opened. Jasfoup’s grab saved him from falling down the empty shaft.
“I think you pressed the wrong combination of buttons,” the demon said.
“How are we going to get down? My sister’s down there somewhere.”
“Hold me close,” said Jasfoup.
Winston stepped back a pace. “I’m grateful and all,” he said, “but I’m definitely a lady’s man.”
“Good to know,” said Jasfoup. “But irrelevant. Hurry up.”
Reluctantly, Winston did as he was asked.
Jasfoup folded his arms around him and stepped into the void. Winston only shrieked for a moment, until the demon’s great wings unfolded.
* * * *
“Latitia, darling, I’m ready for you now.” Jim’s voice whispered across her ears as Latitia finished tearing the sigils into individual scraps and stuffing them in her clutch bag. “Come spend eternity with me.”
“Coming, darling,” Latitia called. She looked at Keritel as she pulled the first scrap of cloth. “This had better work.” She looked down, panicked, and showed Keritel.
“Sdaji,” he said.
“Sdaji.” She repeated the work in the same intonation as the imp and pulled another. “rioeq… wiel… ashlak… inwehl… galedsh…”
“There you are!” Steve reached down and caught her wrist.
Frantically, Latitia drew the last scrap and showed it to Keritel.
“Uhekla,” he said.
“Uhekla,” she repeated and the hum stopped.
She hadn’t notice the humming until it stopped. Now that it was gone, she recognized the absence of the noise in her head, like the sound a bee doesn’t make when it’s left a room.
“What have you done?” Jim’s voice was a hoarse whisper. “That isn’t possible.”
“It is for her.” Keritel opened a gate in front of his face and punched him in the eye. Jim fell to the floor, releasing his grip on Latitia and Keritel screamed. “I’m burning!”
“Quick,” said the familiar voice of Jasfoup. “Who’s got the i-pod?”
“Felicia.” Winston rushed to his sister. “Are you all right?”
“So far,” she said. “How’s the imp?”
“Who cares?” Jasfoup gave the prone form of Jim a kick. “How come Felicia’s got the i-pod? Doesn’t she know we need it?”
“It was her i-pod.” Valerie strode through the door, closely followed by Meinwen.
“We need a way of ejecting Pelagia from Jim’s body,” said Jasfoup. He put a hand on Valerie as she stepped forward. “I’d prefer it not to be permanent,” he said.
