Demon World

by Balvir Bhullar

  Her time as a journalist had brought her into contact with many horror stories. Occasionally, it paid to play it safe, even at the risk of looking like a fool. After all, I’ve always followed my gut instinct, and it hasn’t led me astray so far. I am safe, she kept repeating the same thing to herself like a mantra, hoping that if she said it enough, it would come true, even when her gut instinct was screaming at her to stay put.

  Her eyes were almost glued to the entrance, however the tapestries on the wall could not fail to grab her notice, and she peeled her eyes away to have a quick look. It fascinated her, not just because it was located right next to the door. It was of a hunting scene: wolves on a mountain looked down upon the people passing underneath on the path below. There was something sinister about this picture; the people were smiling, oblivious of what was lying in wait for them as they walked under a twinkling moonlit night, but in the distance there were dark clouds...

  The doors swung open, ripping Rowanne’s gaze from the scene. Her heart rate sped up, this is it... she thought.

  Alexander entered the pub, and even through the garish glow, his eyes immediately locked onto Rowanne who was sitting alone in a saloon near the bar. Her soulful green eyes panicked as they looked directly at him, and he began to walk towards her. She’s not even wearing a coat in this weather, he noted absently.

  There’s nothing there. Nothing, she kept repeating to herself. She felt a cold breeze blow in from outside, reaching all the way towards the back of the room to where she was seated.

  Rowanne looked towards the entrance with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, her hands felt clammy as she broke out in a cold sweat. The room that had only moments before been warm, now seemed to grow darker, and the sudden drop in temperature only added to this. She looked around, but everyone else seemed oblivious to what was happening around them. I’m not crazy! she thought, her heart racing.

  Rowanne watched as the empty chair at her table appeared to jerk back, then forward just once as if it were caught up by a powerful draft. The doors were closed and nobody had entered the pub; she had no explanation for what had just happened.

  Alexander knew that he should not have pulled the stunt with the chair, but c’est fait, he thought, with a particularly wicked expression on his face. He studied Rowanne - this was the first time that he had actually been this close to her in a reasonably normal setting. Well, normal for her anyway.

  Her green eyes seemed to look straight through him, fixated by something behind him. She was very perceptive, noticing things others would just miss, or not acknowledge, and she had an instinct for self preservation. Journalists, he thought with disgust, always in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

  Alexander noticed that her hands were trembling, and there were fine tremors running through her body as she shook. It’s me, he thought wearily, shaking his head. I can never be in human company for long without something happening. He got up, satisfied that she was safe, but appalled with himself for having frightened her so badly. Not to mention his earlier debacle with the waiter, which he now felt ashamed of, and would rectify.

  Rowanne had felt something, she could not name it, but it felt close to terror and something else... Rationally, she knew nobody had entered the pub, it was an old building and was bound to have drafts, but even so, she was unable to let the thought go. The way the chair had moved had scared the life out of her. Almost as if... She reached out a pale trembling hand, and bit down on a scream. She clamped a hand over her mouth, because for a nano second, it had felt as if her hand had brushed the rough surface of... a coat? Except, she thought, smiling maniacally, there’s nothing there.

  Abruptly the doors swung shut, and the room came back to life. The cold oppressive feeling lifted and she could hear people talking and laughing again. Rowanne rose up slowly and kept her gaze fixed on the chair opposite her whilst trying to keep the trembling in her legs to a minimum. The people around her in the pub seemed indifferent, and carried on as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. She calmly walked out.

  ‘I should have brought a coat,’ laughed Rowanne despondently. She shielded herself from the rain as best she could, and, wrapping her arms around herself as much for comfort as to keep dry, she ran to her car, water running down her face.

  Rowanne drove in a quiet mood as the rain pounded the car. Arriving home a little after ten, she walked through the car park quickly. The lift doors closed behind her, and only then could she sag against them. She could not seem to stop shaking. Finally, after what seemed like ages, the doors finally opened and, sliding up the wall, she made herself walk to her front door. She fumbled with her keys for a moment before at long last managing to get them into the target of the lock.

  She went through, immediately slid down, and sat with her back to the door. Reaching a shaky hand behind, she turned the lock. I’ve never felt the need to use the extra security locks before. Get up Rowanne, this is not like you! she thought sternly. She wiped her eyes, smudging her mascara in the process, and tried to pull herself together.

  She made the effort to get up and headed into the bathroom. Switching on the light, she was shocked as she studied her listless appearance, noting with amusement her panda eyes. Whilst washing her face, she also noticed how frightened her eyes looked. Stepping into the shower, she turned the nozzle on to full blast, sending cascades of hot water running down her body, but she still could not seem to stop shaking, so she sat down and let the water carry her troubles away.

  Afterwards, she went into the kitchen and made herself a hot drink. Getting into bed, she held the mug close, inhaling the warmth of the camomile drink. Finally feeling relaxed, she flipped open her laptop to check her emails; thankfully there weren’t any work related, and in no time at all she had gone through the whole lot.

  However, next week would be quite busy, with events lined up that she would be expected to cover. Yes, love it, she thought beaming. There’d be no time to feel sorry for herself, not with this busy schedule. She completed her work just before midnight, and fell into a deep sleep.

  CHAPTER 5

  Rowanne woke up late Monday morning. Though she looked forward to being busy again, she had acknowledged the need to take a day off so that she could restore her tired mind and body. Eileen had thankfully understood and fully backed the idea, berating her for not having taken it sooner. Fortunately it had been a peaceful night, no nightmares.

  Jumping into her leggings and t-shirt, Rowanne headed out for a run. The sun was shining in a clear blue sky and it was quite warm for an autumn day. She ran down to Westminster Bridge, and past the Houses of Parliament, easily keeping a fast pace right up until the next bridge, before turning back. She noticed the couples strolling along the river as sunlight glinted off the Thames.

  Alexander walked along Westminster Bridge and, stopping briefly to look over the side, caught sight of Rowanne running below. He simply turned in the opposite direction and headed for the Eye.

  Rowanne also stopped at Westminster Bridge, and climbed to the top for a brief respite, as she drank from her bottle. Shielding her eyes, she looked towards the river as the London Eye caught her attention. She smiled at the sight of the people in the pods; excited families, children crying who were most likely scared of heights, and couples, all of them looking out across the city.

  Alexander’s pod had reached the top. It was his first time on this attraction, and he had even gone as far as paying with their (human) currency, instead of making his own way up. He looked out at the magnificent city; affectionately referred to as his ‘mortal home’. However, he laughed bitterly at what he had left behind, because from now on, this reality would take up most, if not all of his mortal life.

  Buckingham Palace could be seen in the distance, Alexander had seen enough palaces to last a lifetime. After a while, they all seemed to blend together, and admittedly he had seen superior and more elaborate palaces that would dwarf this one.

  His attention was drawn to
one particular figure standing on the bridge: Rowanne. Luckily he was so high up that she could not possibly see him. His lustrous raven hair covered most of his face as it fell forward, not to mention the dark sunglasses that hid his eyes. He was about to turn his back, when...

  Rowanne looked up at that exact moment, and caught her attention on the stranger in the top pod. Although, she could not see him very clearly, as his hair and sunglasses obscured his face. However, she still got the impression that he was looking straight at her, or in her general direction, and it baffled her.

  Rowanne had caught him watching her, and slowly, casually, Alexander turned away as if something else had caught his eye. I cannot believe she actually saw me in great detail, and from that distance... A weary look came into his eyes, as he wondered what other side effects would arise from their blood exchange...

  Rowanne shook her head, I am becoming paranoid! she thought, and, shrugging her shoulders, set off for home.

  Arriving back tired, her face flushed, Rowanne took a nice long bath as she let the water gently knead her sore muscles back to life. She dressed in comfy jeans and an oversized jumper; her go-to clothes for when she felt like unwinding.

  She made herself lunch and flopped down on the sofa, flicking through the music channels. Finally I’m in luck, she thought as her favourite band came on. Their music was an eclectic mix of rock and folk, which nobody seemed to understand except for her. I mean what do these so-called purists know anyway, she thought, quite smug in her knowledge of good music. Her favourite song was playing: a haunting melody with violins accompanying a song that spoke of a forgotten past.

  Rowanne let herself be lost in the music, it made her feel nostalgic. I haven’t really kept in touch with my family. When was the last time I even called anybody outside of work? and with a jolt she sat up straight as it hit her that she could not recall the last time. She felt miserable, her good mood gone.

  Rowanne rang her grandmother, just to feel close to somebody who cared for her. She knew she was self-centred, but still, her motive was also love.

  ‘Hello, Grandmother,’ said Rowanne, her voice trembling at the uncertainty of the welcome she would receive.

  ‘Hello, Rowanne. How are you?’

  She needn’t have worried as her grandmother’s deep strong voice spoke in a loving and caring manner.

  ‘I’m fine. I’m doing great actually.’ Rowanne tried to keep her voice steady, fighting back the tears, whilst she unconsciously played with the amethyst pendant at her neck. ‘I just wanted to hear your voice. I’m so sorry, I know it’s been so long since I last called. Work has been hectic these past couple of years.’ What a sorry sounding excuse, she thought. How heartless must I sound to my grandmother? I mean, why couldn’t I have just picked up the phone? She felt tremendously ashamed and angry with herself.

  ‘Rowanne, I understand that your work is very important to you, especially at your age, you want to be focused on your career. Your mother was the same, and in that respect you take after her.’

  Rowanne could hear the admonishment in her grandmother’s voice.

  ‘You will always have work, but you must cherish your family. Phone once in a while! I just want to know that you’re safe and happy,’ said her grandmother with laughter in her voice, as she tried to lighten the sudden tension between them. ‘By the way, is there anybody special in your life?’

  ‘Seriously? You don’t waste any time, do you?’ asked Rowanne, secretly relieved at the change in topic.

  ‘I believe the direct approach is best,’ she replied trying to sound earnest, whilst trying not to laugh.

  ‘No. Not at this moment in time.’ She knew what was coming next, and tried to hold onto an affronted air, but could feel laughter bubble up inside of her.

  ‘There is a lovely young man currently working at the British Library, perhaps I could arrange-’

  It was very important at this juncture to interrupt her grandmother, who could talk on the subject of relationships, eventually coming to the importance of marriage, for a solid couple of hours.

  ‘No, Grandmother,’ Rowanne said in an exasperated voice, rolling her eyes heavenward. ‘What I mean to say is, right now the editor is having me work on two major stories, so I’m afraid that most of my time will be taken up at the office,’ she added in what she hoped was a sincere voice that would get her grandmother to leave the subject alone for now. She sighed, knowing that this particular topic would in all certainty be continued.

  Rowanne’s grandmother, Angelique Knight, was in her seventies. She’d seen much of the world, perhaps too much; there were some things, even a grandchild should not learn of. Old memories were threatening to break to the surface...

  ‘How is Grandfather?’

  Grandmother Angelique was snapped back sharply to the present by Rowanne’s voice. ‘He’s abroad, working on a project. He’ll be back in two months. You could come down, and keep me company?’ she asked, amazed at how she kept her voice steady.

  Rowanne felt guilty for being so neglectful for this long, especially as she heard the pleading note in her grandmother’s voice, but instead she replied, ‘I’ll try and come over soon, alright? I’ve got to go now, my boss has just phoned in and is waiting impatiently on the other line. Give my love to Grandfather.’

  ‘I love you, Rowanne. I’ll see you soon then.’ This time her voice quivered, but she could not help it. Family is family at the end of the day, no matter how far they go from us. If only I could see her again, she thought solemnly.

  Keeping her voice light, so as not to further upset her grandmother, Rowanne replied, ‘Me too,’ and abruptly hung up.

  Her grandmother on the other hand, kept the phone to her ear long after Rowanne had cut her off, and just sat listening to the static on the dead line, lost in her reverie.

  Rowanne wiped her tired eyes and got out her laptop. She turned on the radio; Classic FM would be her background accompaniment while she got on with her work. Her editor really had sent her two stories to cover. The first was the normal kind, very mundane, but of “public interest” she wearily reminded herself, making air quotes.

  Rowanne sucked in her breath as she looked at the second story: it was to do with Thomas, the missing security guard at her work. More than seventy-two hours had now passed, and combined with the evidence the police had of the altercation, it had now turned into a missing person’s case. The police were treating it very seriously, and their appeal to the public had yielded positive results. A number of people had come forward with new evidence.

  Eileen specifically wanted her to assist the police, as well as play detective on the side. Rowanne wondered how she could possibly find anything out without interrupting the police investigation. If she were to talk to the witnesses and get statements, and then publish them, it could be considered as a conflict of interest if it were to go to court. Despite that, she owed it to Thomas to find out what really happened.

  If only I hadn’t fallen asleep. If I had just heard something, then maybe I could have helped in some way. However, it was no use feeling sorry for herself, as positive action was needed now. Don’t worry, Thomas, I won’t stop till I know what’s happened to you.

  In the meantime, Eileen had come up with possible leads she wanted Rowanne to follow up on, and had also concocted possible scenarios as to what might have happened.

  Rowanne looked through the list:

  Did an incident involving Thomas even take place? (Rowanne did not like this question, but Eileen was right because it was no different to what the police did: they’d look at all the evidence logically, before making any assumptions).

  Was he involved in anything illegal?

  Did he know the alleged perpetrators?

  How did they get in?

  Why wasn’t the security alarm tripped?

  The list went on for a bit, but it was enough to get on with. Rowanne cross checked it with the one she had made earlier.

  Eileen had told her tha
t the CCTV footage from Thursday had been lost. The security team had informed her that it was completely damaged. Rowanne found this bit of news nerve-racking as she was hoping that the footage would show exactly what had happened within their office on Thursday evening, as well as the alleged incident outside.

  In the afternoon, Rowanne got a call from the police station, requesting her attendance for an interview. Oh great, just as I thought, I will be investigating the incident as well as being a possible witness. Definitely grounds for a conflict of interest there. Thank you, Eileen, thought Rowanne sarcastically.

  However, Rowanne spoke calmly to the police officer, although her heart was racing, and by the time she’d finished the call, her nerves were frayed.

  As panic began to set in, she paced around the living room to try and expel the nervous energy. Outside it had grown very dark as thunder clouds loomed over the city. She walked towards the large windows and looked out at the ominous, electric blue sky, when suddenly it became very quiet.

  The lights in the living room went out, plunging Rowanne into darkness. She started to inch towards the kitchen, but ended up banging into the sofa. Outside, the sky burst apart as flashes of lightning ripped the sky, and thunder clouds let out an unholy sound as if canons were being fired. She nearly jumped out of her skin and spun around at the sound.

  There were sporadic bursts of light and dark as the storm raged on. Rowanne walked towards the window once more, caught by an idea... Lightning flashed momentarily, lighting the window, and Rowanne caught a brief glimpse of her pale terrified reflection.

  Something, some memory, was trying to tug at the edges of her subconscious... It felt like déjà-vu, so familiar for some reason. Rowanne clutched her head as pain suddenly seemed to slice through it, and the more she stubbornly persisted in trying to remember; the more it grew in its intensity.

  I will remember, no matter what, she thought, but screamed out loud as the pain became too much for her to keep inside any longer. Rowanne fell forward and blacked out as she banged her head on the window. Her body lay prone on the floor, and the storm ceased, bringing with it a false sense of calm.