by Nick Moseley
Granddad considered this. 'I see,' he said. 'But surely Kolley could just have paid someone off to be his patsy and do the prison time for the attack? It's a big risk to bring a demon into it.'
'Think about it for a minute,' Trev replied. 'His company's struggling, so he might not have had the money to pay someone. Plus he'd always be worried that the bloke might decide to talk.'
'He could have him… taken care of.'
'Yeah, but then he's got to pay a hit-man to do the dirty work, and he might talk as well.' Trev gesticulated with his free hand as he walked. 'A demon-possessed man is the perfect stooge. You don't have to pay him, he'll never be able to let slip anything incriminating and in any case, you can kill the bloke as easily as turning off a light and nobody can pin it on you.'
'All good points, I have to admit.' Granddad sighed. 'It's just that I find it hard to believe it of Alastair. He has his faults, like any of us, but I've never seen him as… well, evil.'
'He probably doesn't see it that way either. You know how he likes to spin things; he probably convinced himself it was a necessary sacrifice to save his company. A lesser evil for the greater good.'
'It still leaves some difficult questions, Trevor. Where did Kolley get the knowledge, and more importantly, the power, to summon a demon? His father's interest in the occult was well-known, but he wasn't a serious practitioner.'
'Corbyn was convinced Kolley had help,' said Trev. 'In his opinion there was "no chance" that he could've done it alone.'
'That makes sense. But then what's in it for this mystery third party? Can't have been money, if our assumption about KolleyCo's finances is correct.'
'I don't know. Corbyn reckons that attack on me at Fritley Court was actually an assassination attempt on the Colonel, but if that's Kolley's partner's agenda, why does he or she need Kolley?'
'I think we need to meet up and discuss all this.'
'Do you?' asked Trev cheerily. 'Well I think we need to go to Kolley's house and have a few discussions with him.'
'Trevor. We can't just go charging in there without some sort of plan of action. The man has a demon under his control.'
'We'll need to catch him by surprise then,' Trev argued. 'Corbyn's bound to tip him off before long, and after that he'll be expecting us. Is he at home now?'
'Er,' replied Granddad.
'I know you're there, don't try and blag me,' said Trev. 'You told me earlier that you were going out to his house again tonight.'
Granddad grunted. 'We have been there tonight, but we aren't there now. Kolley's at home, though.'
'How come you left?'
'I had to go home to answer the call of nature, if you must know. Thought I'd make myself a quick bite to eat while I was here.'
'Bloody hell, where's the dedication?' said Trev despairingly. 'You should've taken an empty bottle with you and just pissed in that, like truckers do.'
'I'm not even going to dignify that remark with a response,' muttered Granddad. 'Oscar's still there keeping an eye on things, anyway. Where are you now? I'll come and pick you up.'
'My car's parked on Groom Lane, meet me there as soon as you can.'
'All right, give me ten minutes. Bye.'
'Bye.' Trev hung up, stashed his phone back in his pocket and quickened his pace. His brain was rattling along at a similar rate, puzzling over the remaining gaps in the jigsaw. He passed along Bank Lane and onto Threeways, where a line of takeaways was doing a brisk trade in soggy pizza, undercooked burgers and mystery-meat-on-a-spike. Shambling drunks were being drawn to these brightly-lit establishments like moths to a flame. Being sober, Trev hurried past and tried not to breathe in any E. coli.
'Trev?' said a female voice from behind him.
Startled, he turned, one hand dropping to the weapon at his side. It was Sarah, emerging unsteadily from one of the takeaways with a cone of chips clutched in one hand. Trev observed with some horror that she’d put mayonnaise on them. It just went to show that despite the fact he'd recently witnessed someone getting two of their fingers sheared off, there was always an even more disturbing sight just around the corner.
'Oh, hello,' he said, struggling to keep his face clear of the "oh shit" expression that was trying to leap into place.
Sarah looked fairly drunk, but clocked Trev's camouflage jacket immediately. Her brow creased.
'Did you leave early to go and declare war on somewhere?' she asked, then giggled at her own joke. She stopped giggling and frowned again. 'I thought you had to get an early night?'
'Yeah, tell me about it,' Trev replied, formulating a quick lie with an ease of which he was almost ashamed. 'Granddad had a fall. I had to get over there and make sure he was OK. The neighbours called the paramedics, but in the end they didn't have to take him to hospital.' He shrugged. 'I made sure he was all settled in, then decided I'd take a walk to clear my head.'
'I'm really sorry to hear that,' said Sarah, giving Trev's arm a squeeze. 'I hope your Granddad isn't the worse for wear.'
'He'll be all right, he's tougher than he looks.' Trev cleared his throat and angled for a change of subject. 'How was Graphix?'
Sarah struck a theatrical thinking pose, with one finger on her chin. 'Let me see. Yes, I think the phrase "worst nightclub I've ever been to" is about right.'
Trev shook his head sadly. 'I'd wait until you've been to The Front Room before you make that kind of statement. It makes Graphix look like the Ministry of Sound.'
'Really?'
'Yep.'
'I'm never, ever going there then.'
'You've got to go at least once, just so you can say you've been,' said Trev. 'It's like a Brackenford rite of passage.'
'Yeah, well, whatever. I still think I'll give it a miss.' Sarah munched thoughtfully on one of her desecrated chips. 'Unless I know that Barry's in Graphix, in which case it's The Front Room all the way.'
Trev grimaced. 'Oh God, what did he do?'
'He turned into an octopus, pretty much,' said Sarah with a wince. 'He really wasn't getting the message that I'm not interested, Phil kind of had to drag him off me in the end. I decided that I'd call it a night at that point.'
'Yeah, that sounds like Barry's seduction technique all right,' said Trev. 'If it moves, grope it. If it doesn't move, then great – it’s easier to grope!'
'You wouldn't laugh if you'd been on the receiving end,' grumbled Sarah.
'Well, it might happen yet,' replied Trev, raising an eyebrow. 'It's only a matter of time until he's groped every woman in Brackenford and has to start on the blokes.'
Sarah gave Trev a speculative expression. 'You sound like you're almost looking forward to it.'
'Steady now, let's not say anything we can't take back.'
'You think you can do better than Barry, eh?'
Trev shrugged. 'If I didn't, I'd probably kill myself.' He gave Sarah a wink. 'Right then, I'm going to head home and crash out. You going to be all right getting back?'
'Yeah, a friend's letting me sleep on her sofa tonight, so I don't have to worry about a big taxi fare back to Ropleton.'
Trev nodded. 'Good stuff. Well then, I'll see you Monday, I guess.'
'OK,' said Sarah. She hesitated, then stepped forward and gave Trev a big hug, somehow managing not to spill mayonnaise-slathered chips down his back. Trev returned the embrace a little gingerly, hoping that she wouldn't notice the fact that he was heavily armed under his coat. Fortunately she put her arms around his neck, rather than his waist.
Trev disengaged himself before he got too comfortable. 'Ahem. So… bye, then.'
'See you!' replied Sarah brightly, and headed in the direction of the taxi rank.
Trev looked at his watch. Being waylaid by Sarah had made him late to meet Granddad. He set off again, breaking into a slow jog. As evenings went, he reflected, it had been a pretty weird one; half normal night out, half freaky David Lynch-style dream sequence. He seemed able to slide from one to the other without really breaking stride, albeit with the resul
t that he didn't really feel he belonged in either one of them any more. All he'd wanted when his Sight had first manifested itself was to return to his normal life, but how could he do that now? How could he go back to his nine-to-five existence, knowing that the sensible, ordinary world around him was just a fragile disguise, like a thin coat of paint masking the rottenness of the wood beneath?
He weaved his way through a group of revellers without paying them any attention, still lost in thought. The first step, obviously, was to deal with Kolley and his cronies, demonic and otherwise. Once that was done, Trev resolved to sit down with Granddad and try to sort out where they went from there. Taking over as Custodian was out – no way did Trev want that sort of responsibility, plus the Colonel had already told him that the money was crap. Maybe he could help out occasionally on a freelance basis? Did they allow demon-hunters to work flexitime?
This meandering train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a loud engine approaching from behind him. At first Trev thought it was one of those young lads who believe that removing the silencer from the exhaust makes a car go faster, and inexplicably think that driving endless laps of the city centre in a poorly-modified hatchback is a worthwhile way to spend an evening; however as the sound drew closer Trev became aware that it was much more substantial than the farty engine note of a hatchback. In fact, it sounded quite a lot like a V8… one he'd already heard that evening.
He stumbled to a halt and spun around, just in time to see Corbyn's Corvette pull in to the kerb on the other side of the road. The vampire wound down the driver's side window and smirked at him.
'Out for a late-night jog, eh Trev?' he called.
'What do you want?' Trev asked warily. In his mind, alarm bells were ringing and people were dialling 999.
'Nothing, nothing,' said Corbyn, nonchalant. 'Just happened to see you as I was passing and thought I'd stop to shoot the shit with you.'
'Yeah, well, I haven't got time,' said Trev. He turned as if to walk away.
'That's a shame.' The hardness in Corbyn's voice stopped Trev cold before he could start moving. 'Just as well I picked up a passenger for some company, isn't it?'
As Trev watched, Corbyn reached across and pulled his passenger forward into the light shed by the streetlights.
Trev's stomach dropped to ankle level. It was Sarah.
'Saw you talking to her and thought she might need a lift,' said Corbyn, grinning at Trev's discomfort. He addressed Sarah. 'Isn't that right, love?'
Sarah didn't reply. Her eyes were open but unfocused, and her mouth hung slightly open. As she hadn't been that drunk when Trev had parted from her, he decided that the vampire must've given her a blast of hypnosis. Angry, his hands went for his weapons.
'Steady now,' said Corbyn. 'A few too many witnesses, don't you think?'
Trev glanced up and down the street. There weren't that many people about, but not so few that a man wielding a pair of glowing swords would go unnoticed. He held back from drawing the weapons, keeping his hands within easy reach of them.
'Let her go,' he said. 'Or I'll have the rest of your bloody fingers.'
Corbyn's eyes narrowed. 'I always intended to let her go, mate.' He dropped the Corvette into gear. 'I'm delivering her to Kolley's. See you.'
Trev lunged forward into the road but the car was already roaring away from the kerb. He sprinted after it for a few strides before giving up. He wasn't stupid enough to think he could chase down a car with a 5-litre V8 engine on foot.
'Shit!' he bellowed. 'Shit, shit, bollocks!'
Ignoring the puzzled looks of the passers-by, Trev made his way back to the pavement and stood for a moment as if lost. The indecision didn't last long. His expression quickly hardened and he set off again, running toward Groom Lane and Granddad.
Forty-Two
Granddad's Honda was parked behind the battered Rover when Trev came hurtling around the corner into Groom Lane. The old man himself was standing next to his car looking worried, an expression that deepened when he saw his grandson. Agatha floated close by. The two of them exchanged a look as Trev approached.
'Where have you been? What's happened?' Granddad reached out to steady Trev as he wheezed to a halt.
'Corbyn,' gasped Trev. 'Took Sarah. Went to Kolley's.' He rummaged in his pocket for his car keys. 'Need to get after them.'
Granddad's hold on Trev switched from gently supporting to gently restraining. 'Hold on,' he said. 'I don't understand. Who's Sarah? I thought you were with Miss Pine?'
'Sarah's a work colleague,' Trev explained, twisting himself free of Granddad's grip. 'She was out tonight. I bumped into her on my way here. Corbyn must've been following me, saw me talking to her and grabbed her as a hostage. He kerb-crawled me and said he was taking her to Kolley's.' He unlocked the driver's door of the Rover and gave it a kick to make it open. 'We've got to follow them.'
'Wait, wait.' Granddad took hold of Trev's shoulder. 'We agreed that we'd talk about this first. Kolley will be expecting us now, it would be dangerous to try and force our way in.'
'Bernard is correct,' Agatha chipped in. 'Reckless action is very likely to make the situation worse.'
'There's no bloody time to stand around and discuss it!' snapped Trev, his anger and frustration erupting to the surface. His head pounded with a single thought: if anything happens to her, it's my fault. He pinched the bridge of his nose. 'Of course he's going to be expecting us now, but there's nothing we can do about that. I'm not going to leave her with them. I can't.'
He dropped into the driver's seat of his car and began the long-winded process of getting the Rover started.
'At least give me time to call for reinforcements,' Granddad pleaded.
'From who? The Custodians?' snapped Trev. 'They weren't very helpful the last time you called them, were they?'
'No, but it's worth a try.'
Trev gave the steering wheel a pat as the car coughed into life. 'Good girl.' He looked up at Granddad's worried face. 'Call them if you want. I'll be at Kolley's, actually doing something.'
Granddad met his challenging stare evenly. 'All right,' he said. 'I'll call them on the way.' He took a deep breath. 'But you have to calm down, Trevor. We'll probably all die if you act recklessly.'
Trev held up a hand. 'I'm calm. Well, calm-ish. And I'm not in any hurry to get killed, I just want to help Sarah. Corbyn only grabbed her because he wanted to get back at me. I feel responsible.'
'Corbyn's responsible, not you,' replied Granddad, shaking his head. 'Don't start blaming yourself.' He walked around to the passenger side and got in, after first opening the back door for Agatha.
'Bit late for that,' muttered Trev, as the Rover lurched away from the kerb in a cloud of blue smoke.
Alastair Kolley's sprawling property lay between Bandstand Park and the river, accessed via a private road that branched off the well-to-do Bridge Lane. The centrepiece was a large Georgian house, set back from the road in a green expanse of gardens and surrounded by a screen of trees and a decorative but sturdy wrought iron fence.
Trev parked the Rover on Bridge Lane rather than drive down the access road. The three passengers disembarked and stood for a moment, staring at the trees. Granddad glanced sadly at his mobile phone before tucking it away in a pocket. The operator on the Custodian switchboard had at least seemed to take him seriously this time, but had informed him that they couldn't send anyone for at least several hours. The vampire turf war in Birmingham had flared up again, and all but a skeleton staff were out trying to restore the peace.
'Well Trevor,' said Granddad, 'do you have a plan of action?'
'Déjà vu,' said Trev, remembering Miss Pine asking him a similar question earlier in the evening. Granddad gave him a quizzical expression. 'Nothing.'
'You're the one who demanded we act,' Agatha pointed out. 'Or was that just bluster?'
'Wind your neck in, eh? I'm thinking,' said Trev absently.
'Wind my…?' Agatha spluttered.
'Pr
obably best not to walk up to the front gate,' Trev mused, scratching his chin. 'If we sneak around to the side I can cut us a way in through the fence. We'll have some sort of element of surprise then, at least.'
Granddad gave a slight nod. 'And then what?'
'Why does everyone always have to spoil my plans by asking for the detail?' grumbled Trev.
'I'm your grandfather. I'm obliged to throw cold water on your youthful enthusiasm.'
'I suppose when you get to your age you have to take your entertainment where you can find it,' Trev observed. He clicked his tongue. 'You're mates with old Alastair. Ever been here before?'
'No. And he's an acquaintance, not a friend.'
'You were quite matey with him up until you found out he was a homicidal, demon-summoning loony.'
'That's unfair.'
'But true,' Trev said. 'This would be a lot easier if we could just get the police to come and raid the place, but that's probably not going to happen is it?'
Granddad shook his head. 'What would you tell them?' he asked rhetorically. 'Even if we could persuade them to come, a van-load of police turning up at the gate might force Kolley into something desperate.'
'Which wouldn't be good for Sarah,' Trev added. He shrugged. 'Looks like we go it alone, then.'
Granddad nodded, though he looked unconvinced. 'Let's get closer and find Oscar. He's been watching the house for a while, he might be able to give us a better idea of what we're up against.'
They climbed the fence next to the pavement and headed across the fields to the side of Kolley's property, avoiding approaching the main gates along the access road. Another fence climb and they found themselves on a narrow footpath that ran around the boundary of the grounds. Granddad led them into the deep shadows next to the iron fence and let out a low whistle.
'Don't whistle me, my name's not Lassie,' said Oscar, appearing suddenly from underneath some nearby foliage. Trev jumped, startled, and nearly knocked himself out against the railings. The cat regarded him pityingly. 'I see you've brought some comic relief with you.'
