by G R Jordan
Kirkgordon laughed. “I prefer the normal sort, but they have been pretty handy. Tell me, though. You’re a priest, you’ve seen this stuff we’re pitched into. How do you find the white and not the black? How do you know what’s right?”
Father Jonah thought for a moment. “Do what builds up. Do what redeems, what keeps others from hurting and destroying. Even when it’s messy, even when it costs. It’s what Alana will understand. It’s why she’s still committed.”
Kirkgordon was stunned. “When did you meet my wife?”
“I haven’t. Enjoy your coffee.”
Kirkgordon took five minutes to drink his coffee then turned his attentions to his team members. Wilson, although mobile, was seriously hurt. He could walk, possibly jog, but he wouldn’t last long in a fight. Despite much protestation, Kirkgordon decided Wilson should accompany Miss Goodritch rather than face Farthington at the care home.
“Remember,” Kirkgordon told Wilson and Miss Goodritch, “we need that device causing the shield down as soon as possible. They don’t know we know about it, so stay covert, Wilson, and then bring it down. There should be help ready just outside the shield.” They had decided on the sewers as the preferred route, and Miss Goodritch seemed keen to help.
“Mr Wilson saved my life. Major Havers may have done too. It’s my duty, Mr Kirkgordon. My duty.”
“It’ll be fine, Miss Goodritch. Listen to Wilson and stay safe.” Kirkgordon smiled at her as she descended into the sewers, but his heart was heavy. With the ghosts gone, there were only the hybrid creatures left between Farthington and justice. But Farthington never fully trusted anything. There had to be a back-up.
Kirkgordon turned back to the manse, leaving the priest to let his smaller party out of the sanctuary. As he brooded on Farthington’s possible reinforcements, Nefol came running up.
“She’s gone.”
“Who?” asked Kirkgordon.
“The witch! Tania. Just gone.”
“But you were watching her.”
“I was, and she just vanished, right into the bed. I searched the room but there’s nothing.”
“Okay, get Austerley and then your father. Let’s work out what’s happening.”
Kirkgordon ran to the bedroom that had been holding Tania. On the bedclothes lay the gown that had been covering Tania’s nakedness. There were a few specks of blood at the indentation where her foot should have been. This didn’t surprise Kirkgordon, but there was also a mix of blood and spit beside where her head would have been lying.
Austerley hobbled into the room. “How did the girl let her get away? That witch will have it in for me.”
“Dammit, Austerley, give my head some peace. You angered her, so just shut it. I need to think.”
“Peace? Peace? It’s okay for you! She just wants to get her kit off for you and romp the night away. She’ll be after my blood.”
“And whose fault is that?”
Father Jonah entered the room. “So she chose the darkness. See the hornet’s nest you have created for yourself now, Mr Austerley?”
“Where is she?” asked Kirkgordon.
“With Farthington, Mr Kirkgordon. She requires vengeance. And now he knows you’re coming and he has his powerful ally back. Good work, Mr Austerley, you played the devil’s hand.” The priest turned away, head down.
“Great Austerley, just great. And no, don’t say anything else. Just get ready. Havers needs us.” Kirkgordon turned to Father Jonah.
“Father, I think you should stay and maintain the sanctuary you’ve set up. Just in case it all goes wrong.”
“It’s good of you to think of all those trapped people of Dillingham,” answered the priest, “but if you fail, I’m not strong enough to deal with it all on my own. No, I shall go. Besides, this is Arthur we are talking about.”
“Arthur? How well do you know him?”
“Too well. So many times we stood side by side. Those days may be gone and we may see things from very different angles these days but he was and still is my friend. I won’t leave him to suffer.”
Before Kirkgordon could ask anything further, Father Jonah hurried away, citing preparations to be made. Well, thought Kirkgordon, with Havers gone and Calandra elsewhere, Father Jonah’s counsel may be just what’s needed.
From his upstairs window, Mr Allison, erstwhile neighbourhood watcher and general guardian of his street, looked down at the church car park. Over the last few days he had seen all sorts of strange goings on and numerous ghosts and creatures congregating around the grounds of the buildings. He had also been trapped within his own house, which was something, as soon as he was free, he would be taking up with the relevant authorities.
Now he was outraged at the complete disregard for driving safety that was occurring in the car park. First, a middle-aged man hobbled over to the electric car and got into the back seat. He was followed by that strange priest, whose smile Mr Allison had never trusted, holding a large staff, which clearly should have been stowed in the boot of the vehicle. Then some Robin Hood clown, complete with large bow and quiver, climbed into the passenger seat and failed to put on his seat belt. But what finally drove Mr Allison to reach for paper and pen was the priest’s young daughter getting into the driver’s seat and driving the car away.
The car glided without sound along the streets of Dillingham, which looked deserted. There were still people looking out of their windows, but no ghosts and no creatures could be seen.
“Did you destroy the creatures, Austerley, when you had your hands on Tania?” asked Kirkgordon.
“No. I couldn’t. They are real creatures and although she has links to them they are not formed from her. They were real creatures to begin with. It’s strange they aren’t about.”
Not good, Kirkgordon told himself. “Nefol, park up a good distance away. I have a nasty feeling we’ll have some company before we reach Farthington.”
Nefol nodded and was almost casual, looking out of the window at the fiery sky as she drove. Selecting a cul-de-sac off the main road to the care home, Nefol parked the car and jumped out. Kirkgordon stepped out and checked his quiver and bow, reciting some of the colours on the flashings and the arrows’ uses. He watched Nefol grab the large staff and begin to twirl it. The ends turned white and all Kirkgordon could see was a blur.
“I’ve got a friend with a weapon just like that,” said Kirkgordon to the priest. Father Jonah laughed and shook his head.
“Mr Kirkgordon, you are a simple one. You don’t seriously believe that Havers gives Calandra two weeks off every month? It’s been less than a month’s total training time but Nefol’s learnt so much from her. I should thank you. Havers said you gave Calandra back her self-worth. Most men would have stolen her beauty.”
I must be the only one in the dark, Kirkgordon thought to himself. He told Austerley to stay with the priest while he scouted the territory ahead with Nefol. Jumping through the hedgerows and back gardens, Kirkgordon noticed how Nefol responded to his actions in a similar fashion to Calandra. He could see her influence. And he sorely wished she was here.
As they drew closer to the care home, Kirkgordon could see a variety of creatures patrolling the grounds. There was an elephant with the head of a crocodile and a viper for a tail. Hovering before the door was a giant wasp with a monkey’s head. An enormous slug had a scorpion’s tail and the legs of a cricket.
Beyond the animal freak show was a sight that chilled Kirkgordon’s blood. Hanging by his hands, tied with a rope hooked around a weather vane on the roof, was Havers. His pain was obvious as he tried to lift himself up and not merely dangle. Underneath, taunting him, was Tania, now dressed in a black garment covered in symbols.
“He doesn’t look in a good way,” said Nefol.
“No,” replied Kirkgordon. “Bring your father and Austerley up here. We move now!”
The Battle of Gibbet Point
Wilson exited the manhole of the sewer ahead of Jane Goodritch and scanned the street while len
ding a supporting arm. Jane breathed deeply, trying to expel the stench of the underground route from her too-sensitive nostrils.
“Did we really have to travel via the sewers?” asked Jane.
“Well, Miss Goodritch, many of the bizarre creatures we have seen recently have wings, as does Farthington himself. This was a way of keeping our intentions hidden. Hopefully the dragon doesn’t know we’re on to his shield device,” explained Wilson.
“So it should be plain sailing.”
“Never say that, Miss Goodritch.”
“Why? And you can call me Jane, by the way.”
“Well, Jane, Farthington will know that if we can disable his shield he’s going to have a bucketful of SETAA agents on to him and possibly the boys from the military too. I don’t see him risking that without having some sort of protective device around it.”
“Good job we brought some extra weapons then.” Jane held her machete pair aloft. Explorer blood was pumping in her veins and she was ready to take a stand for the good and the decent. In moments like this, on the move, Jane believed she could do this forever. But deep within she was haunted; there were moments when everything stopped and the true horror of it all sunk in.
Wilson was the picture of professionalism, pointing out the safe direction to Jane before breaking ahead to assess the next blind spot. From time to time he would glance up at the sky, but he couldn’t see anything overhead. His ribs still hurt and he knew he wasn’t at full fighting fitness, but he was upright, and at times like this that was the standard for duty.
“We’re making good time, Jane,” said Wilson as they reached the bottom of the climb to Gibbet Point. “We should take a break so that we’re rested in case we have to fight.”
Jane nodded and sat down. Wilson drew a bottle from his hip and offered her a drink. She gulped down the warm water eagerly and handed the bottle back. Sitting there, readying himself for duty, Wilson looked quite the hunk to her. He was obviously dedicated; she could see he had a care beyond himself. Her stomach felt light and she began to blush. Oh, what the hell, she thought.
“Wilson, see, when all this is over…” Jane took a deep breath. “Do you think you and me… that’s us… could we get a drink together? Just a wee drink, nothing elaborate.”
Wilson looked deep into her eyes and took her hands in his own. For a moment, he looked beyond Jane, towards the target they would soon reach. Then he looked back at her and nodded.
“Why not, Jane? Why not? You’re a brave woman, very dedicated. It’s quite intoxicating.”
Jane grinned inanely at having bagged her saviour for a drink. She basked in Wilson’s smile until he glanced again at the summit of the hill. His eyes narrowed and his smile faded. He scanned his target for a full minute before returning his gaze to her face.
“Stay safe, Jane Goodritch, stay safe. Whatever happens up there, stay safe behind me.” Jane nodded and dropped her head. He caught it with his hand, tilted her head back and delivered a passionate kiss. She tingled inside. It had been so long, and her body was not the shape it had once been. This moment needed to last.
But then her saviour announced it was time for the attack on the shield generator at the summit. Reluctantly Jane stood, machetes in hand, half a step back from Wilson. At least she could be on his shoulder.
The climb was steep and difficult, especially as they were avoiding the path, but Jane was determined not to be left behind. Wilson barely turned around, his eyes constantly scanning the terrain ahead. Without warning he dropped down, grabbing her shirt, forcing her to the ground with him.
The tiger’s body stood out against the greenery but the toad’s head did not. The snake heads waving at the rear hissed unkindly. Wilson drew his wooden clubs. Jane had seen Havers use these and she was surprised to see them again.
“Arthur had those, too. Are they standard issue?”
“No, but he did teach me how to fight, and what to fight with,” said Wilson, grinning. “I hope there’s just one of those,” he added, nodding towards the tiger-toad.
Wilson waited for the creature to stalk away from him and then clambered further up the hill. Jane tailed him as closely as she could until he sent her off in a different direction. She lay flat on the grass and waited for his signal. She had seen such weird creatures recently that this hybrid didn’t shock her as much as the previous ones had. The toad-headed creature came past Wilson again and he chose this time to attack. The snakes hissed a warning but he slammed his arm down on the tail and bludgeoned it off with two blows. The creature turned; Wilson leapt onto its back and began to beat it severely. Within five seconds, Wilson had broken its back and the creature was subdued.
Jane ran up the hill towards the swinging cage, the source of the shield, and reached out with her machetes, ready to cut it down. As she approached she felt an almighty force erupt against her midriff as if she had been kicked. Falling backwards, she broke her fall with her hands but let her machetes drop in the process. Wilson, running her way, was caught by an invisible arm, clothes-lining and dropping him to the grass beneath. Jane couldn’t understand what had happened. Something rolled Wilson onto his front and drove into his back, causing him to cry out in pain. Jane watched in frustrated horror, seeing her new love being pummelled by something that wasn’t even there.
There was a brief moment of panic before Jane’s reflexes kicked in. She picked herself up and ran towards Wilson. Her brain said that whatever was pounding his back must be stood directly over him. Arms outstretched and ready to shove, Jane attacked, but before she felt any contact, a hand grabbed her throat and lifted her into the air. Feet dangling, she grabbed at the invisible hands that held her, desperately trying to prise them open but to no avail.
Wilson was groggy but still conscious. He saw Jane suspended in the air and fought the reaction to merely lash out at her attacker, whatever and wherever it was. He would need a smarter plan than that. Rolling quickly to one side, Wilson made for a rock he had seen in the grass. It looked just over the size of his fist and was the only weapon he could see. His sticks were on the far side of the invisible creature and he wanted to keep the being’s focus on Jane. His sides screamed out with every roll but he forced himself to keep going.
Gripping the rock with his strong arm, Wilson looked at Jane, her face trying to scream out but lacking the air to do it. There were indentations on her throat made by fingers unseen, and the colour in her face was draining. Her air supply had been cut off and she was looking straight through her attacker, her eyes begging Wilson for help.
It should be right there. If I was holding someone in a choke, then surely I would be right there, thought Wilson. He desperately looked for some sort of confirmation, knowing time was against him. If the creature stopped focusing on Jane then all was lost. And then he found what he was looking for. Yes! The indentations on the grass. There were three distinct impressions. Not long and foot-like, more like a very thick pole sitting on the ground. A tri-ped? Wilson didn’t know anything about those. Oh hell, he cried to himself. And then he threw the rock right at Jane’s face.
She couldn’t move to avoid it. Hurtling towards her was a large stone and part of Jane thought it might just end the pain quicker when it hit. Instinctively her eyes closed but her ears heard the thud ahead of her. Wilson saw a wild splodge of green liquid jettisoned from empty air, a spontaneous fountain that began to cover Jane. The grip on Jane’s throat was released and she stumbled backwards, her eyes closed as the green fluid continued to spray.
Wilson watched the spraying liquid and saw the impressions on the ground begin to move. He realized the creature was coming for him. The impressions on the ground moved closer and Wilson looked around for another weapon.
“Jane, get the sticks! Get me my sticks!”
Jane was wiping the putrid green fluid from her eyes. She looked around for the sticks; the nearest one was only a few feet away. She grabbed it and stumbled towards Wilson. He was screaming. Jane could see that both of
his shoulders were pinned to the ground with his eyes fixated on the space above him. Six feet up, the green fluid continued to spray.
Wilson knew there was a third appendage and guessed it was hovering above his head, about to smack down on his forehead, sending him to oblivion. All the time he was carefully watching the position of the fluid, waiting for it to dip as the appendage struck. It dipped. Wilson threw his head and neck as far to one side as he could. Something caught the corner of his neck and pinned it to the floor. He was still alive, barely.
Jane came barrelling into the figure over Wilson. She couldn’t see it but it was obvious it was standing over him. Hitting one of its legs, Jane felt it give but she bounced off to one side, dropping the stick beside Wilson. A large indentation appeared on the ground; the creature must have fallen over. With no hesitation, Wilson grabbed the stick, summoned all his remaining reserves and leapt on top of the creature. The creature’s skin was coarse and Wilson could feel little abrasions forming all over his body. Ignoring this, Wilson repeated the same action over and over again, taking his stick and pounding the area that the green fluid was coming from.
Jane was willing him on to eliminate the creature, but she felt revulsion as Wilson’s face contorted with rage and vengeance. He battered away at the creature until his strength gave in and he collapsed back, rolling off the green mess that was left. She had known he could be destructive but it had always been controlled: smooth and effective, brave and defensive.
She understood the rage, having herself been throttled by the creature, but she was still shocked at the ferocity of Wilson’s outpouring of hate. Picking herself up and going over to him, she caught his eye, but he dropped his gaze and looked away from her, as if he knew she had seen his darkest of sides. And then his eyes closed. His chest still moved with his breathing, but it was slowing.
