Ward

by C Bilici

  She pulled him out none too gently and made him stand.

  “I’m bored now. Time to call in that favour you owe me.”

  “I’m meant to be working, Ianka.” A grunt escaped his lips as his body jerked. She released the pressure on his testicles.

  “It’s not nice to make a lady wait, Fenton.”

  “Well, I have always prided myself on my manners.”

  Ianka had already undone the buttons of his shirt, and pushed him to the bed as he pulled his shorts off.

  Afterwards, Fenton lay panting and collected his shorts from the floor to pull out his cigarette case. Empty.

  “Have one of mine.” Ianka pointed to her handbag. “And be a dear, hand me a jar.”

  He handed a jar from the designer bag to Ianka and took out her black, leather wrapped cigarette case with gold trim. Lighting one, he handed it to Ianka, who was squatting on the floor with the jar beneath her. She took the cigarette and breathed a stream of smoke in his face, and smiled.

  Another cigarette lit, Fenton lay back and inhaled deeply. He fingered the hickeys and scratches on his chest.

  Giving a shake, Ianka stood and sealed her jar, placed it back in her bag, and slipped her dress and shoes back on. She leant down, gave Fenton a big sloppy kiss and tweaked his already sore nipple. She stood with a grin, and was gone.

  Not long after, Fenton emerged from the shower, towelling himself off.

  “One of mine?”

  Fenton lowered the towel. “I thought we were all yours, Despina,” he said bitterly.

  She stared back at him, her face blank. “No need to be petty, Fenton.”

  “As you wish, Cardinal.” He bowed from his waist

  She again ignored him. “Has she agreed to take the binding?” He nodded in response. “She looks to be a difficult one. I don’t envy you.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. She’s growing on me.” He watched her for a reaction, detecting one he thought. “What did your men find?”

  “It was as you said. There were bugs. The building has been warded and cleansed. No easy task when there are so many residents. They won’t be back for a while, though, after the story of seeping sewage my men told them. Neither will the bugs.”

  “You don’t seem overly concerned by the most concerning aspect of all this. This humanoid Umbra and their bold activity.”

  “That’s nothing new. We’ve seen plenty like that before.”

  “Not like this. It led the attack.” He watched her again for a reaction and saw her eyelids flicker. “If there’s something I need to know, Despina, best out with it now.”

  She sighed and sat, crossed her legs. “We’ve had similar reports from all over the globe.”

  “What?”

  “Escalating violence, a man Umbra seemingly growing in both intelligence and cunning behind it all.”

  Fenton scowled and stabbed a finger at her. “God almighty. They have a bloody leader now, and you knew.” Fenton looked away from her.

  “We’ve known for a while now.”

  “And you kept this from everyone? How long?”

  “It was not my decision alone to make, Fenton,” she said with little emotion.

  “How long, Despina?”

  “Months.”

  “Months?” He stared at her.

  “Four. It’s been four damn months, okay?”

  He shook his head and turned from her again.

  “These are not easy choices to make, Fenton. The four of us had to weigh up all the information and investigate the claims further.”

  His barking laugh was full of frustration. “Have you investigated enough? Or do more people need to die? More children put in danger?” Now she looked away. He snorted in disgust. “What will it take for you to act? A massacre?”

  She sneered at his dramatics. “You don’t have all the information.”

  “So give it to me. To everyone.”

  “No. Our decision is final. No move is to be made until we know more, and no information disseminated.” She looked at him sternly now. “None, is that understood?”

  He nodded. “Loud and bloody clear.” He looked around the room in frustration before addressing her again. “I take it, however, I am still permitted to defend myself and my apprentice during our investigations?” She nodded once, slowly. “Splendid.”

  She stood, and left.

  He looked to where she had stood and pursed his lips, rubbed his temples in anger. He shook his head again and walked to Jasper’s room, tossed the towel on the bed and dressed. Then, ducking to lift the mattress, he pulled out the notebook he’d seen trapped there earlier.

  * * *

  He called out for Stacey as he carried bags and other odds and ends inside, but got no response. He put the guitar case down and checked the kitchen and living room, then the porch. All empty.

  “Stacey!” he yelled, running from room to room and then, outside, yelled her name again.

  No response.

  He looked up at the shade of his avatar and disappeared to the Nexus where he needed to be to communicate with Godfrey. He glared up at the knight in anger.

  “Tell me you know where she is!”

  The giant craned his head, the torches in his eyes flaring in anger as he bellowed both vocally and psychically.

  “Then show me!”

  The knight lifted his hand and opened his palm, producing a rusty chain which coiled down, missing Fenton narrowly. The man looked up at the manifestation of his power and scowled. As he took hold of the chain and prepared to exit the Nexus to her location, he heard heated French cursing in his head. Fenton left the knight with a parting shot.

  “The two of you are so similar it’s a wonder you’re not steadfast friends already!”

  The knights eyes flared brighter and he roared, yanking on the chain Fenton was following.

  Fenton emerged in a clearing with his equilibrium disturbed from the jolt given him by Godfrey and fell to his hands and knees.

  As he hit the dirt, his mouth fell open in horror and a hot gush of liquid splashed across his face.

  Stacey was writhing on the ground, screaming.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  JANICE POLK SAT at home in her pyjamas drinking straight bourbon from a small bottle. Things had gone from bad to worse for her since the fire at the kindergarten. The investigators had found traces of accelerant all over the place. Kerosene, they said. Justin’s death had been found to be caused by trauma so severe there apparently hadn’t been much left of his head, but it was clear that the cause was neither accidental nor the result of an exploding aerosol, which had been initially suspected as both causes. There had also been no trace or remains of any wasps or a nest.

  All of which made the story she told inconsistent with the findings and pointed at arson and foul play, despite other eyewitness reports. Because of that, her insurance company was holding out on her, pending the investigation. The police kept saying it was only a matter of time before they charged her with it all, pressuring her to confess. They were just waiting on evidence that they said they would eventually find and put her away for a long, long time.

  It didn’t help that the two people who had been at the heart of it all were nowhere to be found, and all that anyone remembered was them leaving a burning building with a child in their arms.

  And to top it all off, Janice’s husband had left her, using her legal troubles as an excuse, though they had been fighting for a long time. She had half suspected there was someone else in the picture for a while. No doubt they would come out of the slutty woodworks, but Janice knew it was a woman from his office.

  To say that Janice had not had the best week was, as she had told herself several times, “a fucking understatement.”

  So she did what any self-respecting person in her position would do. Drank herself into oblivion to either try and forget or take the choice away from the police and anyone else that wanted a piece of her.

  What she did not want to do, she thought,
cursing to herself as the door rattled, was see anyone. The knock came again as she tipped the bottle back.

  “Oh good,” she said loudly. “Someone else come to get blood from the stone.”

  After two attempts, Janice made it out of the chair and swayed. Several empty bottles clinked as her feet kicked them as she made her way. At least she had the getting drunk part right, she mused to herself. The smirk was still on her face as she opened the door. Her face screwed up at the person on the other side.

  Another man holding a badge.

  “You finally come to arrest me? Take me away?” She held out her hands, wrists together. The bottle in her hand tipped, but she righted it. “At least let me finish my bottle,” she said, noticing the thing.

  The detective, or inspector, or whatever he was — there’d been so many — put away his badge and smiled.

  “No, ma’am. I just need to ask some questions on the events of that day and the whereabouts of one,” he glanced at a notepad that seemed to appear in his hand, “Stacey Trampler.”

  She soured at the mention of the name, ignored the fact he’d called her ma’am. “You find that fucking bitch and her cousin and you clear my name!” She poked him in the chest with the clutched bottle as she spoke. “I didn’t burn my place down, and I didn’t kill no one! You hear me?”

  The detective cocked his head. “Cousin?”

  “Yes! Wendell— No. Fenton. Fenton Wendell. Dressed up like a Beach Boys reject. Find them. Arrest them! Make them tell the truth.” She punctuated each statement with a stab of her hand in the air, no longer able to reach the cop as she’d stumbled back. The amber liquid sloshed as her hand moved.

  The detective held up his hand. “Ma’am, I’m not sure what others have said to you, but I’m on your side. I believe you had nothing at all to do with these crimes. That’s why I need all the details you can remember of that terrible, terrible day.”

  He frowned, his dark eyes saddened to an almost comical degree, but Janice thought he had an air of sincerity about him. Her shoulders and face drooped.

  “You believe me?” She couldn’t believe it. Until now, everyone had treated her like lying trash. A criminal.

  The cop nodded. “Now, if I can just come in…”

  She opened the door wider and let him in. “Thank God someone believes me.”

  She was close to tears. The cop closed the door behind him and patted her on the shoulder in sympathy as he helped her back inside. That brought the tears flowing. No one could find Stacey or her cousin, and Janice was certain she was going to be charged with their murders too next.

  “I was starting to think that— that I would be going to prison for sure.”

  The man smiled at her. It was a huge grin that seemed to stretch wider. Blackness seeped out between his teeth like blood. Janice thought she was hallucinating from drunkenness and sleep deprivation and slapped her palm on her face and rubbed hard. When she looked, black tears ran from the corners of his eyes. His nostrils leaked the stuff.

  This was no man.

  He grabbed and squeezed her arm so tight it hurt. Janice pulled but she couldn’t break free. His fingers melted into one another, thumb thickening and joining to the rest. The ring tightened.

  “Oh,” the monster said. Blackness flowed and bubbled over his lips as he spoke. It spilled onto his chin and dribbled down his neck, dripped onto his chest and feet. “I don’t think it will come to that, Janice. In fact, I can say with absolute certainty, you will never see the inside of a cell.”

  Janice screamed as blood welled from her arm and bone broke.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  FENTON WASHED HIS face again, despite that he had showered and brushed his teeth several times. He’d exchanged his beige Hawaiian shirt for a blue, loose tank-top and now had faded grey board shorts.

  “I cannot believe this!”

  “I told you already. It’s not piss!” Stacey called out from her seat on the porch, red-faced from anger and embarrassment.

  The door opened and Fenton leant out, a toothbrush in hand, paste on the bristles. It would be the third time he had brushed. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it!”

  “Well, what the fuck were you doing out there anyway?”

  “Me?” Fenton shouted around foam, flecks shooting out. “I was concerned for your safety! What were you doing out there is the better question? More to the point, what were you doing?”

  “You must have been around the block a few times. Don’t tell me you’ve never had a squirter before.” She toyed with her guitar that he’d thankfully brought for her. She wouldn’t know what to do without it.

  Fenton entered the house and a tap ran.

  “And I couldn’t do it in the house,” she yelled out. “It felt too weird.” She looked around the scenery outside, sheepish.

  The door flew open once more. “No. Never in my life have I had that privilege. Thank you, though, for giving me such a close hand account of it. It shall forever be ingrained in my mind’s eye.” Fenton huffed, pulling his cigarette case from a pocket only to slam it shut angrily when he found it empty.

  Stacey motioned with her head to the coffee table she’d moved outside, atop it a large pile of rolled cigarettes. Fenton raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Like I said, I couldn’t perform, so I tried to take my mind off things.”

  Fenton nodded, filled his case and then picked another off the pile and lit it, breathing out with a sigh.

  “Smoking is bad for you, you know,” she said as she strummed. “I wrote a song called that once.” She affected a deep, gravelly death metal growl and began to sing it while strumming along. “Smoking, is bad for you. Smoking. Bad for you!”

  “Yes, very charming,” Fenton said, cutting her off.

  She sneered half-heartedly. “Whatever. It’s bad, that’s all I’m saying. You Wards being so fit and all.” She resumed her strumming, looking his lean figure up and down, then reached for the pile and lit her own.

  “We Wards. You’re one of us now don’t forget. And I’m sure you would have realised the tobacco isn’t the regular variety.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. I figured it’s some special Ward blend some dude in Columbia or wherever grows.”

  “Turkey, actually.” He paused and took another drag. “And yes, it is a special blend, as you said. Impregnated with an Umbra solution similar to what I sprayed you with.”

  “Please don’t say impregnated and Umbra in the same sentence. It gives me visions no one should see.” She shuddered but took another drag anyway.

  “The rumour goes, whether by design or circumstance, as well as aiding in shielding us from the Umbra, smoking this tobacco does not seem to adversely affect ones health as normal tobacco would.”

  “Wouldn’t the big tobacco companies love to get their hands on some Umbra?”

  “I think I’ve had enough disturbing visions today, thank you.” She gave him the finger. “Besides, we’re not certain of its full properties on the tobacco let alone humans. Though given our lifestyle, being that historically Wards do not tend to live long enough, or quite care enough to conduct a thorough study, who can say if it’s true.”

  She barked a scoffing laugh at him. “So it’s just bullshit.”

  “Well, no Ward I know has died from lung cancer,” he sniggered, smoke billowing from his nose.

  “Well. Here’s to living forever.” She lifted the smoke to her lips and breathed it in deeply.

  She strummed as they smoked in silence for a while. Once she’d finished, Fenton reached into his pocket and withdrew a folded photo which he handed over. She unfolded the stiff paper and saw her own smiling face along with Paul’s and Jasper’s. She smiled at the group selfie, then her expression fell.

  “They’re gone, aren’t they?” The fact that she couldn’t say the word dead meant she still held some hope.

  She hoped.

  “Let’s get started,” was all Fenton said.

  * * *
<
br />   Stacey sat cross-legged on the floor of Fenton’s study as he mixed her ink, talking her through the process as he went. She tried to listen but was lost in a sullen silence as she leafed back and forth through Jasper’s notebook. She found the sketch she was using as her inspiration again and stared at it.

  “What are we going to start with exactly?” Her voice sounded distant to her own ears as she asked, like it was trapped in the corner cupboard. Fenton was silent as he ground ingredients in a mortar. “Are you going to draw lines over me?” Fenton turned to her with a frown. “You know. The lines.” Her hand ran up and down her sides and across her body to illustrate his tattoos.

  “Oh.”

  He sounded like he’d forgotten about them. Or didn’t like talking about them. She couldn’t shake the feeling the look on his face brought up.

  “No. You won’t be needing those.” He turned back to his mixing.

  “Does that come later?”

  The corner of the pages rasped as Stacey played with them. She wanted this done so they could find Paul and Jasper. She decided wasn’t going to give up hope. Not yet. Finger tracing the lines on the page now, her leg jiggled. The roughness of the drawing paper grated under the pressure of her fingers. She hadn’t realised she had been pressing so hard. She just wanted to feel Jasper’s hands.

  “No. You won’t need them at all.” He seemed to sense her confusion and cut her off before she could speak again. “Every case is different,” he snapped before calming himself. “Some, like me, need additional sigils.”

  She didn’t pay any attention to his mood, simply nodded, and continued to stare at the sketch on the page as Fenton worked.

  “Why did you choose these ingredients?” he asked after some silence.

  “Are you allowed to ask that? Isn’t that like asking who you vote for, or something?”

  “You don’t have to tell me, but it’s not some unwritten taboo, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “The grass? It’s something Jasper told me once. You can tell how fertile the land is by it. Makes sense. The egg and its shell, well that’s an ancient symbol of life. Duh. The Stacey juice?” She stared in silence a while. “Well, I reckon that comes from what keeps babies alive in there, so…”