James and the Changing Red

by J W Cotter

The morning light brought with it a chance to examine the damage that had occurred during the massive, unnaturally natural storm last night. People in the village found themselves still without power while some were completely isolated having been forced back into their homes by flooded roads and fallen debris. For James the morning sun gave him the chance to understand or at least pretend to comprehend what had happened last night. Standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom he deduced that by no means was it a nightmare as he tried his best to somehow disguise the striking piece of white hair that had unsurprisingly cropped up. Placed on the sink beneath the mirror was the stone, the message still blatantly obvious scratched across the surface. For a brief moment of madness last night James thought about searching for the place “where lights burn brightest” but he opted to leave the window pane and return to bed. The image of the horrid creature that had attacked him was still bombarding his mind every time he closed his eyes and by no means was he going to willingly venture out in the midst of darkness to become an appetizer. A psych patient wouldn’t have attempted the trek so James believed it best to stay put.

  Staring into the mirror he smiled, he quite liked the streak of whiteness, even if he acquired it mere moments from death. His father on the other hand wouldn’t exactly appreciate the “abnormal” hairstyle and being a policeman was bound to notice it sooner or later. Gel was the best option as it seemed to darken all his hair and he pushed the white streak beneath the rest of his hair the best he could. Around his wrist now was a large leather strap, one that he forgot he had, one that he purchased on a holiday a few years back. It came in quite useful in disguising the tattoo beneath because if Mr. Griffin didn’t notice the streak of white hair he sure as hell would notice the tattoo. The sounds of gravel being disrupted caught his attention and rushing back to his room he saw the cars of both his father and Miriam pull into the driveway. Not in the mood to be dealing with them he closed the drapes tight plunging the room into darkness and immersed himself in blankets with the hope that his father would pay no attention to his room.

  Downstairs he could hear them talk perfectly even with the bed linen acting as a buffer the entire conversation was mostly about the weather, he was sure that was all the village folk were going to be talking about for a few weeks, they liked to milk things! Pleading with the pillows that his father wouldn’t notice his still being at home (it was a school day after all) James kept as still as possible while feet journeyed up the wooden stairs. The gods of pillows and sheets were definitely out when Mr. Griffin burst through the door and spying James in bed launched in to a series of questions as if he was interrogating a criminal.

  “Why aren’t you at school?”

  The room remained silent as James refused to answer the man that was standing in the middle of the floor about to enter the start of an argument.

  “I asked you a question!”

  Only silence was omitting from the heap of blankets and Mr. Griffin not being of the patient kind, grabbed hold of them and yanked them to the ground. Infuriated James turned his back on his father and faced the wall; his eyes closed and anger bubbling.

  “James, answer me now, why haven’t you gone to school?”

  With no response from the grieving teenager and both of them getting increasingly furious Mr. Griffin finally snapped and took hold of James’ arm and squeezed. There was no pain; none what so ever as his father’s shovel hand tightened its grip. It was strange, normally once his father placed a hand on him he would cry in agony and bruise nearly immediately but not now. Annoyance was searing in the confines of the bedroom and once again for the last time, so he said anyway, Mr. Griffin asked the simplest of questions.

  “Why aren’t you at school?”

  The “last time” question was accompanied with a little tug on the arm of his son in a bid to pull him from the bed. It was the wrong time to bid as his son’s annoyance level just past red and with one swift movement jerked his arm free from his father and in the process knocked him back on to the ground. A spectacular sight was to be found as the six foot four policeman with hands that could crack cement was sprawled over the bedroom floor having been put there by his son. Cries of “Jack” from below caused James’ eyes to roll toward heaven as they only led to Miriam bursting in to the room in hysterics. She thought the man had a heart attack and as she helped him up he informed her he merely fell over some clothes, prompting her to tell James to tidy up his room. Miriam didn’t know how lucky she was that his temper was cooling, she was like a red flag to a bull at the moment and the antagonising wasn’t helping her. They promptly left the room and James could hear them in the next room opening and closing wardrobe doors and pulling open drawers and one of them made their way to the bathroom and James could hear the clinking of beauty products being thrown into a small bag. A smile edged its way across his face as he realised they were going away for the night, a usual occurrence when his father finished night shifts.

  Miriam poked her head in to the bedroom and in her ear-grating voice informed James of revelations he had already deduced.

  “We’re going away; we’ll be back tomorrow evening”

  That was all, no goodbye no there is dinner in the oven or money to get takeaway, just a kind of screw you we’re off to enjoy a romantic night away. James didn’t care; the further those two were from him the better. With the slamming of the door he breathed a sigh of relief, no arguments or uncomfortable silences or awkward death-stares.

  Lying on the bed as the hours slowly passed by James couldn’t get his head around the fact that his little nudge to his father caused him to fall to the ground. This was a man who, as legend had it, managed to knock to the ground and arrest three supposed domestic terrorists, so how could a slim framed, docile sixteen year old force him to the ground. The word warrior, that was what Wikipedia had translated the word Malyn to, jumped straight to the front of his mind and he pondered the idea of being this said warrior. It would certainly explain the increase in strength and of course the other things that had been happening through the day. James had noticed a dramatic increase in his senses and a remarkable healing ability, the bruises he had acquired in last night’s events had diminished and only a handful of small coloured ones were left on his torso. They had been spread across almost his entire chest and arms, now it was as if he was pinched by a child. With this tiring train of thought it was no wonder that James fell fast asleep mid-afternoon and by the time he woke it was normally his bed-time. Hunger rattled his stomach and he made his way to the kitchen with the deep hope that some bit of edible food was left. Sadly upon opening the refrigerator his hopes were dashed as all that was inside there was a jar of mayonnaise, rotting tomatoes, a few slices of browning lettuce in the crisper and eggs whose expiration date had become faded. There was nothing from there anyway to eat. He turned his attentions to the cupboards and thankfully his luck was in when he found some mould free brown bread and jam. A small pot of raspberry jam was found nestled behind the bowl of sugar and James began spreading massive amounts of it across the bread, salivating at the thoughts of eating it. Water was going to have to be the drink of choice as all the juice cartons were in the recycling bin while tea was out of the question as the milk carton was keeping the others company. Ready to eat his “dinner” he sat at the kitchen table and listened to the radio, some local station that played a rather eclectic choice of music. Eleven O’ clock at night and the news suddenly came on the radio and James had this horrible thought that he was not so shocked he had. For a brief moment he had hoped that his father had been in a car crash, both of them being killed in the collision and he was going to have to gladly look after himself. No such luck as the news only told of some burglaries in the area and that there were still numerous roads that were blocked by fallen branches and large rain puddles.

  With a want for more food but with no means to satisfy it James thought it best to just return to his bed and sleep till morning when he could go to the
shop for food. Switching off the lights first was the silliest thing, but James always did it and he moved with ease around the house with only the light of the moon shining in through the windows. Lastly he turned off the radio and the dark house was plunged into silence. Closing the kitchen door James made his way down the hallway when he spied two silhouettes outside the front. Suddenly his wrist flared up and the burning sensation returned, stronger than last night and he found himself lying on the hall floor writhing in pain as the leather band began to melt to give way to the red searing light. Beads of sweat dripped from his hair as the heat intensified around his wrist, he was almost certain he could smell his flesh beginning to burn. The fact that there were two people sneaking around outside dropped from his memory as soon as the tattoo erupted although they quickly waltzed back in again when James noticed the handle of the front door starting to turn. With every ounce of strength he started to pull himself away from the hall, away from sight as the glaring redness was like a beacon. Half inside the kitchen half inside the hall he almost made it but the door slowly creaked open and even in the darkness of the house he could make out the hand of one person entering. They were whispering as they entered, just like the two last night, the two that saved James. Perhaps they were friendly strangers, ones that could stop the searing pain that was sure to be incinerating what flesh he had left around his wrist. They were not the ones from last night.

  A rush of horror entered the house as the two figures became more apparent. Dressed in flowing brown robes with a white sash around the waist and hoods covering their entire heads, the duo entered the hallway and both of them turned their hidden faces to the red light omitting at the bottom of the hallway. James’ eyes widened and he capsized into the kitchen and with his feet banged the door shut, keeping them there as the two pushed hard for entry. Hearts all a flutter and what was sure to be another nightmarish night for James he looked around for something to hold the door, there was nothing handy, nothing even to threaten as a weapon. With his feet still firmly on it, the door stopped rustling as the two on the other side ceased their intentions. Taking a deep breath James held it and closed his eyes and tried to listen to what they were whispering. He couldn’t decipher the language, he could make out the odd word but there were clicks and pops and giggles, not very helpful in the instance. They stopped “conversing” and James returned to inhaling oxygen and exhaling carbon dioxide, quietly. He wasn’t sure what to do, keep his feet firmly on the door and try his best not to lose focus, which was hard as he felt his wrist was soon going to fall off his arm from the antagonising heat circling it. He wasn’t quite sure what in his short life he had done to deserve all this attention over the past two nights but whatever it was he would have gladly skipped over it if given half the chance. A cooling sensation suddenly calmed his pain and his wrist was like normal, some burn marks but they were already beginning to heal. One thing over with! Resting his head on the cold tiles of the kitchen floor he closed his eyes for a mere moment and unfortunately when he opened them he spied something he wished he hadn’t. Standing at the kitchen window was one of the hooded figures he had been trying to keep out. Not sure whether this was a divide and conquer mission James remained on the ground, his feet pressed against the door almost certain the other was still on the opposite side. He was certain but not right. Keeping his eyes on the one at the window and his feet on the one he thought was still in the hall James felt a shiver down his spine when he heard a rattle come from the backdoor. Before he even knew what he was doing James had leapt from the floor in quite acrobatic fashion and was searching for a knife, spatula or even a rolling pin, something to use as weapon but it was too late, the two had swooped into the kitchen and in an instant it was over, he was once again on the floor this time fast asleep.

  A nauseating smell of kerosene filled James’ nostrils and he slowly came to, finding himself hanging from chains against a cold stone wall. An unnerving feeling naturally came over the boy as his eyes tried to adjust to the immense darkness of the room best described only as a medieval dungeon. He could hear the scurrying of rats around the floor and even felt one brush against his bare feet causing him to tremble in disgust. Roars for help went unanswered as his voice merely echoed and found its way back to him; the dungeon was big, very big. Spasms in his arms gave James the idea to pull at the iron chains that bound him to the stone and he yanked as hard as he could to try and free himself and as he pulled his wrists further away he could hear the loosening of rocks while dust slowly replaced the wafting smell of kerosene. Almost free as the wall that held him was centuries old and no match for what he assumed was his warrior strength James smiled as one by one the chains fell loose from the wall and he found himself standing in the dark room with only rats for company. Straight away the sounds of footsteps swarmed his ears as he realised he was no longer on his own and he slid back up against the wall and held his breath in a bid to concentrate on the stranger’s exact location. He couldn’t. The footsteps had stopped and no matter how hard he tried to listen for a breath or even a heartbeat, neither was forthcoming.

  “Didn’t take you very long to break free”

  “Who’s there?” James asked wrapping the chains around the palms of his hands ready to use them as weapons.

  “My I haven’t laid eyes on a warrior in quite some time; you’re a lot smaller than what the rest looked like”

  James didn’t respond, he needed to focus as the sound of a heavy blade being pulled from its scabbard took his attention away from the numerous questions filling his mind. He watched with dread as the blade, almost independent like, floated through the air and lunging to the ground with extreme force circled back up and around again, it could have been quite hypnotic if James wasn’t certain the tip was meant for him. Then in the flash of an instant the sword suddenly struck for him and without even thinking he raised one of the chains around his hand and somehow managed to entangle the sword within it. There unexpectedly James was mere millimetres from the attacker. Taller than him and a lot broader the figure wore clothes that could only best be described as a Ninja costume, only their gleaming emerald green eyes were visible.

  “Not bad, not bad” he whispered before punching James in the stomach and freeing his weapon from the grasp of the chain used it in one swift movement to swipe at James’ back causing him to roar in agony as the cold steel of the blade ripped through his shirt and skin. Lying on the ground winded and wounded James could no longer hear the movements of the Ninja’s feet, he had no idea where he was and when he cropped up from behind and grabbed hold of James’ hair a shock riffled his body. A familiar feeling of cold brushed against the back of his neck and he could feel the sword sift through his hair slicing bits off as it went with an edge so sharp it had an ability to split a blade of grass. Not fond of his chances of escaping the clutches of death a second time in the space of about twenty four hours and using what he came to now understand were warrior powers he lashed out knocking the aggressor into the darkness. Like in the kitchen, what he hoped was only a few hours ago, James sprung from the ground in acrobatic fashion and began swirling the chains in circles enforcing a pretty savage perimeter. Too bad that the man who was attacking him wasn’t exactly experiencing his first outing and timing it to the nanosecond managed to strike James in the face with the handle of the sword knocking him again to the floor.

  “You should have been able to hear me coming just there” he said from the darkness. James pushed himself up from the ground and spat out a mixture of saliva and blood onto the already moist floor and readied himself somewhat again for battle, the swirling of the chains and a slight crouched position was his readied state. Closing his eyes and holding his breath he concentrated hard to pinpoint the position of the man and without either of them moving he knew his location. With one quick drop to the ground and whip of the chain James managed to knock the Ninja clad man to the floor. Seizing possibly the only opportunity to win his escape he jumped onto the fallen fighter
and wrapped one of the chains around the covered neck.

  “Who are you?”

  There was no answer and the man just did not move from the spot, he didn’t even try and loosen the restraints around his neck.

  “I asked you a question” James said again, this time squeezing ever so gently on the shackles. Moving slightly to squeeze the shackles allowed the disguised man a chance to free himself from James’ grip and once again escape into the darkness of the dungeon.

  “That was pretty impressive how you managed to knock me to the ground! How did you know where I was?”

  James wasn’t really in the mood to answer the question, seeing as his question went unanswered first and continued to circle the chains in a bid to improve his perimeter. Minutes passed with nothing happening and the voice stopped asking questions, he stopped talking and James came to the realisation that he was once again alone in the dungeon, apart from of course the rats.

  Lighting was the major issue, there was none in the damp squalor and he was forced to feel his way along the wall for an exit, dragging the chains with him as he did. A loose stone was about the only remotely strange thing he found and pushing at it was, as he was going to discover, a mistake as the concrete beneath his bare feet slid apart and he fell into another, dark, damp, rat infested square. A rat fell on top of his head and grabbing it he hurled it unknowingly against the wall which was only about four feet in front of him. The roof closed in and outstretching his arms he could touch all four walls of the square and a horrible feeling of impending terror came over him as the chains rustled against what James hoped were the bones and skeletons of the various creatures in the dungeon although one felt a lot larger than the average rat. Screaming wasn’t the answer as James realised it only brought with it a fear-inducing man dressed like a Ninja with a sword that could only best be described as a weapon of mass destruction. A sudden shaking sensation rippled the square and the walls started moving in, inch by inch they closed in on the boy. Eyes wide and heart pulsating James decided screaming could be a good option but it was no help, no one was listening, or perhaps they were and just didn’t care that he was about to be squashed like an insect. Instincts that he never had before came to the front and James soon found himself with his back against one wall and his feet against the other and he pushed, he pushed really hard to try and stop the walls from further closing in. Terror filled the diminishing room as James’ knees came ever so closer to his chin, the force of the walls starting to really outmatch whatever warrior strength was within. Sweat dripped from every pore as he mustered every ounce of strength in one last ditch attempt to stop the walls from compressing him into a nice placemat. An agonising scream bounced around the dark, tiny space as James’ final effort slowly paid off and the walls started to crumble, well at least one. Suddenly he felt his back support give way and found himself falling, more like sliding, down a chute.

  Plummeting head first down an unfamiliar chute wasn’t the best of ideas especially when the speed is being increased with every passing swerve. Unfortunately for James he didn’t exactly have the option of choosing which way to escape the clutches of almost certain death, luckily however the chains somehow fell loose in the slide down. Light appeared in the ever shortening chute and although he tried to slow himself down it was no good and James slapped his head off the hard timber floors he just caught a glimpse of as he shot from the shaft. A few moments of unconsciousness followed and James started to come around, groggy and in pain. The lights, numerous candles, were extremely strong and caused him to cover his eyes as the time in complete darkness left some temporary sensitiveness. With a hand over his eyes he suddenly could feel a liquid oozing down through his hair.

  “Oh no he’s bleeding!” a voice shouted and immediately, quite obviously, James realised he was no longer alone. The notion of asking who was there seemed lost on the poor boy as his questions seemed unimportant or fell on less than cooperative ears. Instead he decided it best to try and get over his little tumble. Massive red spots that he had been witnessing everywhere he looked had begun to disappear and James was finally able to see around him, somehow he wished he wasn’t. Breathing heavily and trying to take the whole situation in was the logical thing to do and surprisingly it was exactly what James was doing, even though there were numerous, possibly dozens of eyes upon him. They were strange, the people that the eyes belonged to, very strange. Glancing around the large somewhat stately room James took in as much as he possibly could before they launched an attack and surely murder him where he stood. A group of four young women stood by what could be only described as an overzealous potted plant, its leaves and branches climbing the walls and its roots had taken to beneath the floorboards. Each of them was dressed in green, green dresses, skirts, shirts and shorts and their feet were bare and grossly dirty. Remarkably all four of the young women had red hair, different styles of course but nevertheless strikingly red. Moving away from the Hippies, as James so eloquently had nicknamed them (in his mind of course), there was another bunch of four people. A vibrant red fainting couch that had undoubtedly seen better days was from where the four were watching James’ every move. Mixed gender this time, two men were sitting down on the couch while two women stood behind them, their hands on the men’s shoulders. If green was the colour for the “Hippies” then red was definitely this group’s signature colour as both genders rocked the red look. The two women wore revealing red tops and hot pants and James couldn’t see their feet so wasn’t sure if they too were barefoot. Make-up was a big thing for these girls as their lips were lusciously large and naturally, possibly artificially, red while their lashes seemed to be longer than any James had ever seen. One’s hair was a breath-stealing blonde while the other’s was an equally jaw-dropping auburn, both long and incredibly straight. Their male counterparts were more subdued in their use of make-up but their chosen attire was not something one would normally find walking into the church in Hamlet. Skin tight red leather pants was where the eyes first wandered when observing the two men and as they wandered upwards, white shirts that had the top few buttons missing, allowed the lipstick stained kisses on the collar to be clearly visible. Their hair seemed to be parallel to the women, although only the blonde haired man kept his somewhat long, the darker one had it cropped short. For some reason a sense of awkwardness came over James and he found himself blushing and looking away from the quartet.

  In the corner of the large room by one of the bay windows was a piano, gloss black and undoubtedly an antique. Its cover was down and it came complete with a stool and six beautiful women fawning over it. James again found himself locking stares with people he would cross the street to avoid. These ones appeared a lot more coy and subdued than the others James had just witnessed for every time he glanced at one of them they would avert their gaze. Sky blue and white were the “team” colours for the six and all had blonde, almost silver hair. A pianist was among them as the piano started to sing and the remaining five closed their eyes and smiled the creepiest of smiles. The rattle of chains joined the sweet music as James lifted his arms in defence when he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. There was no need to apparently be afraid at that particular moment as the movement was only the red quartet slow-dancing around the red fainting couch. For once in a long time James felt peaceful, content, in the middle of a group of people he had never met, ones that kidnapped him and possibly could bring about his demise. It said a lot for his current home life.

  Tingling sensations ringing in his ears drowned out the music and focused James’ attention beyond the piano and the groups of eccentric people happily blissful. Pounding of feet on stone grew louder and James heart began to beat faster in his chest. Almost afraid to look he forced himself to the corner of the room and watched as the doors swung open. The ninja that he had been tackling mere moments ago first walked over the threshold, his sword nestled in its scabbard on his waist. Butterflies became bats as the ninja removed his hood and a tanned ma
n, no more than thirty stood before him. He looked almost normal, his green eyes surveying the large formal room, resting on James. The unexpected clapping of his hands frightened James to the core but obviously not as much as it did the others and right before his eyes the women by the piano began to disappear, fading from sight in a glowing gold shine. The red ones too departed in clouds of red dust. Finally the Hippies left in the most bizarre way imaginable. Leaves greater than James had ever witnessed in books or real life, or even in doctored internet photos, emerged from the stem of the plant and engulfed the girls, within seconds they were gone. In a room where they were so many people that James felt somewhat safe in the fact that there were other possible targets he alone remained with what could be described as a bulls-eye on his chest.

  Others quickly emerged from behind the double doors and his knees knocked together when figures dressed in brown robes with white sashes around their waists entered the room. The hoods were still up and James wasn’t sure he wanted them, like the ninja, to remove them. Sure enough that was exactly what they did and for a brief moment James wasn’t sure what to expect, a demonic face with features beyond imagination or worse still a faceless face, something that always found its way to his darkest nightmares. Squinting in a bid to lessen the sight, what stood before was something that he did not expect to see. Beneath one of the hoods stood an old woman, older than his grandmother with hair so white it was as if she just stepped in from a snowstorm. Her face was gentle and kind and full of years. Another hood was pulled down and a young man, extremely tall and somewhat dim looking was to be found. It was very hard to be frightened of such a simple-looking individual. There was a total of eight sporting the brown robes and each any every one of them were people, with the exact same features and characteristics James came across everyday in life. In plain view being afraid of them seemed pointless but when the hoods went up and the incoherent language James had heard, it was easy to see why one would be frightened. They all stood around the door looking at him as if he were some prize pig won at a fair. James could feel them gawping at every limb and strand of hair and that language of clicks and pops suddenly erupted in the room. Tapping on the floor focused the room back to the double doors and James spied an elderly woman with a marble cane walking, quite slowly, over the threshold. A hush fell over the room and the eight bowed their heads and formed almost a path to James. Unable to look away he observed the woman. Definitely old, older than possibly anyone he had ever met, but still pretty, her pale blue eyes omitted the slightest sparkle.

  “Ah my boy, we’ve been expecting you” she spoke, the first person bar the attacking ninja to speak to him since he was brought to this place. She came to his side, shorter than he was. She used her cane to poke at him. A few “tuts”, “hmms” and “ahs”, were said then she wrapped her hand around his arm for support.

  “Expecting you last night!” she smiled showing teeth aged and yellow. Using him for leverage she guided him through the double doors. They closed with a clatter behind them and for a moment they were in complete darkness. The familiar sound of her cane on the ground tapped again and lights started to flicker on the walls and soon enough the entire room was visible. A grand library with shelves reaching from floor to ceiling covering almost every wall were lined with books, their spines varying in colours and width. On one wall in the midst of all the shelves was a shield with two swords attached, the shield was adorned with a simple “V”. James gazed in amazement as he took the beauty of the room in. Ladders offered a helping step in retrieving the ones high above while a spiral staircase led to a little balcony area where sure enough there were more books and comfortable seating. Letting go of his arm the old woman hobbled across the room to where the fireplace, open and blazing, waited. She pushed a loose black tile and suddenly the floor parted to give way to a staircase, a downward staircase.

  “We’re going down here” she smiled beckoning the rather reluctant boy. Going anywhere dark and underground wasn’t exactly at the top of James’ to do list seeing as he had just broken free from a dungeon and enclosing cell.

  “After you” he replied. There. He realised that was the first time he had spoken since he came out of the crushing room. It seemed strange hearing his own voice for a moment, hearing at a low level following the screams earlier on. The woman, unlike the green-eyed ninja, obviously listened because she gave him a soft smile and descended. Glancing around not entirely sure what he was looking for, perhaps an escape while he was not being watched, but something wanted to follow the woman, something that he was listening to.

  The steps down were cold and the moisture soaked in to James’ bare feet sending a little shiver up his spine beneath the torn shirt. Only the tapping of the cane on concrete assured him that the woman was still in front, the light only reaching the first couple of steps. And then there were no more, a corridor greeted him, at the end stood the woman beneath an exposed light bulb with the handle of a door clasped around her palm. She twisted it clockwise and vanished from sight. With no other option James followed.

  For all he knew he could have been walking into a trap, a murderer could have been waiting on the opposite side of the door or worse still his father. It could be some new reality show and some overzealous television presenter would shout “gotcha” as soon as his feet crossed the threshold. Unfortunately it was none of the above, and from the sight he witnessed he wished it was any of the options that ran through his mind. Behind the door was an office, somewhat resembling a doctor’s office and in the corner was a bed, one that resembled a hospital bed. Around the bed stood the “Hippies” that James had watched disappear from sight mere moments ago.

  “Come, come” the woman said as she herded away the girls with her cane. Again feeling ever so reluctant as he was sure whatever was in the bed was something he didn’t want to see, James gave in to the same thing that made him come down the stairs. Lying in the bed was another “Hippie”. Unnaturally pale and with her red hair only taking away more colour from her face the girl appeared dead, if it wasn’t for her slow breathing the coroner would have been called. James knew there was something familiar about the “Hippies”, the girl in the bed was the one from the forest, the one who wouldn’t stop talking. He wished she would talk now. The girl had bruises all over her face, cuts along her neck and James could just make out two puncture wounds above her collar bone. Black vein-like lines were spreading in every direction. He wasn’t the only victim of the strange beast.

  “Can’t she be cured, can’t she be given the same thing I got?” he asked as the heat radiating from her feverish body reached his hand. A shaking head was all that responded and again the woman left with James quickly following while the “Hippies” returned to their bedside vigil. Already at the base of the stairs James could hear the tapping of the cane and it wasn’t ascending like he had hoped, it was heading beyond the stairs. He followed and there was the old woman waiting by what appeared to be an elevator.

  “Stairs are bloody murder on the knees” she chuckled whilst tapping the cane on both. A little bell rang and the door opened to a small elevator with a bright light and soft music. It was like he had been transported to a hotel. Again using the cane, it was apparent it had become almost like another limb, she hit the button marked “T” and the doors swiftly closed and with a slight tug they were off, upwards.

  “Why can’t she get the same thing I got?” he asked again hoping to get a better response than just a headshake.

  “Because. She is not like you or me”. Finally he was getting somewhere; he felt like clapping his hands for at last a question he had posed had been answered, verbally.

  “Then what is she?” feeling on a roll he continued with the questions, that had been building up. A little jerk and the elevator came to a stop and its doors opened out into a large circular room. It had windows all around and its floor was covered in the softest of carpets while the furnishings seemed hard and uninviting.

  “I’
m surprised you haven’t figured it out yet” she teased while stepping out of the elevator and walking rather slowly towards yet another fireplace where a number of flames danced upon burning blocks of wood. Easing herself into an armchair whose back was straighter than that sword James was faced with earlier on she beckoned him to join her. He sat opposite in an exact armchair and could feel his posture enhancing.

  “There’s trouble coming my boy, and you’ve seen both first hand and second the effects of an attack” she said licking her lips to try and accumulate more saliva.

  “But what’s that to do with me?”

  “You’re the Malyn my boy, a mighty Malyn that has been anointed to fight whatever threatens”

  “Malyn?” James had to ask even though Wikipedia had given him the answer already.

  “Different cultures, different generations called you and your kind by many names, Khalon, Fengyang, Lokela, Alvar but my favourite has always been Malyn. Do you know what it means?” A shake of the head deemed necessary, they weren’t very forthcoming so why should he.

  “It means little warrior, and you’re the second one that I’ve come across” she smiled as she once again tapped her cane on a copper bell.

  “So I’m this Malyn sent to fight those things that…” he didn’t get a chance to finish.

  “Yes you’re the Malyn and yes we need you to fight those horrid creatures but they’re just the battle, the war is building and building fast”. Before James could respond another interruption burst through the door that he only just noticed. In walked one of the blonde girls carrying a rather heavy looking tray that was laden down with a large China teapot, two cups and saucers, a milk jug, sugar bowl and a little stand containing what he hoped was edible food. He had forgotten how hungry he was in the chaos of the night. Once she had placed the tray on a nearby table she left and with the closing of the door a sudden realisation fell over James.

  “She’s a muse” he blurted. The woman smiled and with the aid of the cane got to her feet once again. “The others, cupids, wood nymphs?” he questioned. Again she smiled. “I’m not sure what the other ones were the ones in brown with the creepy hoods”. She was fiddling around with the teapot before she turned to him not with an answer but a question.

  “Shall I play mum?” James gave the old woman a look of bewilderment. “Tea James, how do you take your tea?”