Location, Location, Damnation

by Nick Moseley

  'Drink?' enquired Granddad, producing the inevitable bottle of Scotch from his desk drawer.

  'No thanks,' replied Trev. He made space on the squeaky chair and sat down. Granddad shrugged and poured himself a smaller than usual measure, throwing it back in one practiced movement.

  'Better keep it to just the one, I've got to drive later,' he remarked, giving the bottle a longing glance before putting it away.

  'Had some fun with the ghouls last night then, eh?' said Oscar, smiling at Trev. 'Ever considered a career in the diplomatic service?'

  'Can I borrow that dagger again?' Trev asked Granddad. 'I want to see if it's powerful enough to cut a cat in half.'

  'That'll do, you two,' said Granddad. 'Actually Trevor, vapour weapons are one of the things that I want to talk to you about.'

  'Yeah?' said Trev, feigning nonchalance. He was eager to get his hands on the dagger again. Most of the supernatural stuff he could take or leave, but using the vapour weapon was addictive. Unlike a normal blade he couldn't lacerate his hand with it, either.

  'Yes.' Granddad swirled the last drops of whisky around his glass. 'The way you were able to handle my dagger set me thinking. If we're to defeat this demon we'll need more firepower than we currently have. You might be able to get the better of a few ghouls with that small weapon, but against more powerful opposition you wouldn't have much of a chance.'

  'A few?' echoed Trev, indignant. 'There were bloody loads of them.'

  'I bet there were,' chuckled Oscar, 'and none of them bigger than a five year-old.'

  'Don't you have some important hairballs you should be coughing up?' snapped Trev. Oscar just grinned at him.

  'As I was saying,' Granddad ploughed on, 'we need better weapons. And I know where there are some safely in, ah, storage.'

  'I'm not sure I like the sound of that "ah",' said Trev. 'That makes me think that these weapons are "safely" stored because they're somewhere so dangerous that nobody in their right mind would go there to get them.'

  Oscar burst out laughing. 'Tell you what Bernard, if you were any more transparent people would glaze their houses with you.'

  'Thank you very much,' Granddad said, giving Oscar a stern look which the cat blithely returned.

  'He's right though,' said Trev, restraining a smirk. Even Agatha had allowed herself a slight smile.

  Granddad took a slow, deep breath before speaking again. 'The weapons are in safe storage because nobody would think to look for them where they are.'

  'And where are they?'

  'Dark Limbo,' said Agatha, making her first contribution to the conversation.

  'Dark Limbo,' repeated Trev, frowning. Recognition dawned. 'Hang on, isn't that where the Shades come from?'

  'Yes,' said Agatha. She wrinkled her nose. 'Trapped there by their own base desires.'

  'Why the hell would anyone store weapons there?'

  'Precisely,' said Granddad inclining his glass toward Trev. 'It's a bizarre place to store weapons, hence nobody's going to go looking for them there.'

  Trev raised an eyebrow at that bit of logic. 'But won't the Shades interfere with them?'

  'They can't,' Agatha replied. 'Inanimate objects barely register to the Shades at all, and even if they did, they can't touch them any more than I can.' She waved a hand through Oscar's book to illustrate the point.

  'Shades are entities of instinct, of desire,' explained Granddad. 'They can't really think as such, and they don't communicate, so they can't give the weapons' location away to anyone. Because of that, Dark Limbo is a very safe place to hide things.'

  'Assuming you've got the balls to go in there in the first place,' said Oscar. 'Disneyland it ain't.'

  'So it's dangerous?' asked Trev.

  'Potentially,' said Granddad. 'I've been in there and come back out unscathed, but the Shades were less active then.'

  'I thought the Shades couldn't affect people like us who've got the Sight?'

  'On this particular plane of existence, our home turf if you like, they can't,' agreed Granddad. 'It costs them most of their strength just crossing over. But Dark Limbo is their home turf. There are a lot of them trapped there, and it's where they're at their most powerful.'

  Trev looked confused. 'They still can't hurt you physically though, can they? Agatha said so.'

  'No, but they can turn you into a drooling, gibbering wreck,' said Oscar cheerfully. He gave Trev an appraising look. 'Although in your case, we'd be hard put to tell the difference.'

  'Are you going out of your way to try and piss me off today?' said Trev, getting irritated with the cat's constant sniping.

  'Going out of my way?' replied Oscar. 'No, not really. You're making it pretty easy for me.'

  'I hear the vet's up the road is doing a special offer on neutering operations this weekend,' Trev muttered. 'Keep going the way you are, and maybe we'll drop in on them.'

  'That's a good idea,' said Oscar, smiling.

  'You reckon?'

  'Absolutely.' The cat scratched himself behind the ear. 'I agree it's for the best that you don't breed, Trev, it just surprises me that you'd go to a vet's for the op. Money's not that tight for you, surely?'

  'I've got just enough to ensure that you come home with your bollocks in a jar, mate,' growled Trev.

  Oscar laughed uproariously. 'You should visit more often,' he said. 'I don't get this sort of banter with good old Randall and Hopkirk here.'

  Trev turned to Granddad and a disgusted-looking Agatha, giving them a "what can you do?" shrug.

  'When you're finished with insulting everyone in the room, could we continue please?' Granddad asked his cat.

  'Knock yourself out,' Oscar replied. 'Just trying to keep things light-hearted in here.'

  'Right then.' Granddad tapped his glass on the desk. 'Oscar was right in what he said about the Shades. They can't hurt you in body but they can damage your sanity. If they get inside your mind they can really mess things up.'

  'You can protect yourself, of course,' Agatha said. 'It's possible, with some training, to use the energy in one's body as a shield. For those who haven't yet learned that particular ability, carrying a vapour weapon is a rather effective substitute.'

  'It worked for me when I went in there,' confirmed Granddad. 'They were drawn to me, of course, but they didn't want to get too close to that dagger.'

  'Why'd you go into Dark Limbo anyway?' asked Trev.

  'To try the weapons,' Granddad told him. 'I inherited the dagger when I took over as Custodian, but I wanted something more powerful.' He smiled ruefully. 'I was a touch more headstrong in those days, I'm afraid. I made my way through Dark Limbo, terrified, and when I got to the weapons I found I didn't have enough power in me to activate either of them, so I had to come all the way back empty-handed.'

  'What a pisser,' said Trev, with some sympathy. Agatha threw her hands up in despair at his language. 'So what are these weapons then? Better than your dagger by the sound of it. I suppose it's too much to ask that there'd be a vapour weapon machine gun, something like "The AK-47 of Justice" perhaps? Or maybe "The Bazooka of Righteousness"?'

  Granddad forced a laugh. 'Sorry Trevor, nothing like that. The weapons hidden in Dark Limbo are a pair of swords, known as The Twins. Very old, very powerful. I didn't have the strength to use them, but I think you might.'

  'I don't think you should encourage him, Bernard,' said Agatha. 'No Custodian has been able to make use of those weapons in over a century. It would be a perilous trip with no guarantee of a reward at the end of it.'

  'Swords, eh?' murmured Trev, not really hearing Agatha's concerns. He was too busy imagining what it would feel like to wield two vapour weapons at once, and powerful ones, at that.

  'It's Trevor's decision,' argued Granddad, 'though without The Twins on our side I don't rate our chances. I'm trying to get us some backup, but my fellow Custodians have their own problems to deal with.' He stroked his beard absently. 'We're thin enough on the ground as it is. It's not really fair, or re
alistic, of me to expect my colleagues to just drop everything and help us out.'

  'So how many Custodians are there?' asked Trev, coming out of his daydream.

  'Not enough,' replied Granddad. 'Not so long ago even a small town like Brackenford would have had at least three Custodians. These days it's a real struggle for most of us.' His expression was determined, but tinged with a deep weariness. 'The fact is we're losing, and none of us can rely on any outside help.'

  'All right,' said Trev, raising a hand. 'So we have to do it on our own.' He fixed Granddad with a level stare, surprised at the boldness in his own voice. 'Are you going to tell me how to get into Dark Limbo then, or what?'

  Twenty-Five

  For the second time in less than twenty-four hours Trev found himself in the passenger seat of Granddad's car, heading away from the town centre. Just for a change the old man was holding forth.

  'Brackenford is an old town, as you know,' he was saying, warming to his favourite subject: local history. 'The longer a place has been inhabited, the more psychic energy – both positive and negative – seeps into the atmosphere, the buildings and the land itself. Brackenford's one of the oldest recorded settlements in the country, which means there's a lot of power here. It's why there's always been higher than average supernatural activity in this area.'

  'Right,' said Trev, not listening all that closely. Agatha was seated primly on the back seat of the car. She had remained purse-lipped and silent for the duration of the journey. Oscar, meanwhile, had scampered off to do some more surveillance on Alastair Kolley. The cat had reported that since Agatha had spotted the possessed pigeon, there'd been no sign of any further demonic presence around the KolleyCo offices. It seemed the demon was keeping a low profile. Trev didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

  'That much power building up in the environment also means that the boundaries between realities can be more easily breached,' Granddad continued. 'The Shades, for example, find it easier to break through here than they would elsewhere. It's one of the reasons for this town's higher than average crime rate.' He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. 'Still, it works both ways. It's easier for us to pass through from this side to theirs as well.'

  'Right,' said Trev again. He was holding Granddad's vapour weapon in his lap, his fingers resting on the dagger's handle. He looked up. 'How do we do it, then? Pass through, I mean.'

  '"We" don't,' said Granddad. He shifted in his seat. 'I can't go with you, Trevor.'

  'What? Why not?'

  'We only have one vapour weapon between us,' explained Granddad. 'If we stayed really close to each other all the time while we were in there it might work, but if one of us got separated from the other…' He shook his head.

  'I have to go in there alone?' Trev felt a speculative touch from the cold hand of fear.

  'Not alone,' said Agatha, breaking her silence. Trev turned in his seat to look at her. 'I will be accompanying you, although I still believe that this is a fool's errand.'

  'You've made your feelings clear on that, my dear,' said Granddad patiently. 'In my opinion it's a risk worth taking. Trevor has more raw power than any human I've ever met. I don't believe it's a coincidence that his abilities have shown themselves now, when we are faced with a particularly nasty foe. If anyone can make use of those weapons, it's Trevor.'

  'Let's hope so,' muttered Trev. He felt a little better knowing that he was going to have some company on his trip into Dark Limbo, though he would've preferred Granddad's presence to Agatha's. He found her difficult to get on with, which was hardly surprising. She was a product of the Victorian era she'd grown up and lived in, rather humourless and prudish; she obviously found the modern world – and Trev himself – disagreeably vulgar. To her credit, she did her best to prevent those opinions from affecting her dedication to her duty.

  'We shall see,' said Agatha.

  'Yeah,' said Trev, with all the enthusiasm of a turkey opening the first door on its advent calendar.

  'Agatha came with me when I went into Dark Limbo,' said Granddad. 'She tried to dissuade me then as well, but it worked out all right, didn't it?'

  'Well, you escaped with your sanity intact, if that's what you mean,' replied Agatha, 'though even you would admit that was more due to good fortune than any skill or planning on your part.'

  'If this conversation's supposed to be encouraging me, it's not working,' said Trev. His earlier enthusiasm was draining away with disheartening speed.

  'I'm sure you'll be fine,' said Granddad, 'but there's no point in withholding the truth from you. There are dangers, it's not going to be like taking a stroll to the shops.'

  'Oh I don't know, I've had some pretty traumatic trips to the shops in my time,' said Trev. 'I once tried to take a short-cut through Marks & Spencer on the first day of the January sales. I was almost trampled to death by stampeding pensioners.'

  Granddad chuckled. 'Well you won't have to face that sort of challenge in Dark Limbo, if that sets your mind at rest,' he said.

  'It's reassuring that I won't have my toes crushed by walking sticks or be walloped in the nuts by a Zimmer frame,' Trev admitted, 'but I'm still at risk of having my brain fried, aren't I?'

  'Well, not literally fried,' said Granddad.

  'I think the appropriate phrase would be "irreparably damaged",' said Agatha.

  'Right. Thanks for setting me straight there.' Trev felt his fingers tighten around the dagger's handle.

  'Here we are,' said Granddad, applying the brakes and pulling the car into a lay-by. Trev craned his neck to have a good look out of the windows. They were on the western edge of town, parked alongside Boundary Road. Behind them lay the City Walls Housing Estate, a modern development that marked the outer limits of Brackenford's suburbs. A small wood screened it from view, though Trev could see a roof or two. Ahead the road crossed the river via the Ransom Bridge and wound its way off into farmland and green fields.

  'This is it?' asked Trev, nudging a discarded plastic bottle with his foot.

  'The Ransom Bridge,' said Granddad. 'Know how it got its name?'

  'Yes, you told me the story when I was about five years old,' replied Trev. 'And again when I was six, twice when I was eight, at least four times between the ages of ten and thirteen…'

  'All right, all right,' said Granddad. 'It's a good story, that's all.'

  Trev knew it well. During the English Civil War, a gang of rogues had taken advantage of the fact that many of Brackenford's men were away fighting for the Crown by setting up a toll-gate on the bridge, charging people a fee for entering or leaving the town. They also dropped nets to control the river traffic in similar fashion. Pedestrians were able to circumvent the bridge via the fields, but were left with the problem of crossing the river. Unless they wanted to swim, they were forced to walk several miles upstream to use the bridge at Ropleton.

  The gang members were numerous and well-armed, and managed to hold the bridge for nearly two weeks before the townsfolk finally snapped, rising up in a huge mob that overwhelmed the defences by simple weight of numbers. Most of the gang were killed in the struggle though a few escaped, only to be hunted down and brought back to Brackenford to be hanged. The bridge had been known as the Ransom Bridge ever since.

  'Why are we here, then?' asked Trev.

  'Remember what I said about structures absorbing the latent psychic energy in the atmosphere?'

  'Yes.'

  'Well the Ransom Bridge is very old, so it's absorbed a lot of that background power over the years,' explained Granddad. 'Plus of course there was a battle here. That sort of event always results in an outpouring of energy. It's a prime spot for breaking through the barrier between this reality and Dark Limbo.'

  He ushered Trev onto a narrow path which led away from the road and down to the riverside. Granddad stopped underneath the bridge, tutting at the drifts of rubbish that had accumulated there. The weathered stone blocks were tinged green by the moss and lichen growing on them. Trev stood in the
gloom and listened to the traffic rumbling overhead, trying to remember at what stage this had seemed like a good idea.

  'Can you feel it, Trevor?' said Granddad. 'That heaviness in the air.'

  'All I feel is tired and impatient,' grumbled Trev, but it was a lie. His newly-developed spooky senses were tingling, giving him a message he wasn't yet able to decipher. Something was out of the ordinary, that much was obvious. 'Yeah, I'm getting a strange sensation,' he admitted.

  'Reality's thin here,' said Granddad quietly. 'There's an overlap. Dark Limbo's intruding into our world, ever so slightly. Look at the shadow there.'

  Trev looked. The shadow Granddad was pointing out was deeper and blacker than the others, and it appeared to have a strange viscosity. It was also gently pulsing in and out, reminding Trev of the similar shadow he'd seen in the house on Fancourt Street. Maybe that building had been constructed on another site where reality was 'thin'.

  'I see it,' he croaked, his mouth suddenly very dry.

  'That's our spot,' said Granddad. 'That's where you can force your way through.'

  'How?'

  'Remember how you focused your energy into the vapour weapon?' Trev nodded. 'It's much the same, except you're going to gather that power into your hand instead.'

  Trev frowned. Then he shrugged, closed his eyes and concentrated. Without the weapon in his hand it was more difficult to direct the energy to the place he wanted it. He redoubled his efforts, narrowing his focus to the tip of his index finger. That did the trick; he felt the digit begin to thrum with energy, which quickly spread into his whole right hand. Opening his eyes again, he could see a soft white glow around it. He moved the hand from side to side, noting that his fingertips left faint trails of light in the air that hung there for a moment before fading away.