by P W Hillard
Martin stepped out of the office into the cold air. People walked past, huddled into coats, hands deep in pockets. Small wisps emerged as their breaths hit the cold air. The clouds from Martins mouth were thick and heavy, heat escaping from the primal fire within him. He stood there for a moment, considering just what he wanted to do next, when he felt a pull. Faint and gentle at first, a tiny buzzing in his mind. Slowly moment by moment it grew stronger, the quiet sensation becoming roaring and overpowering. He could feel himself being drawn inextricably. He was being summoned.
“Right, how long do you think it will take?” asked Bill. He and Aaron were stood in the centre of an empty warehouse. A single strip light provided scant illumination, revealing only a portion of the runes they had painted across the floor.
“No idea,” admitted Aaron “This is supposed to summon them, maybe it didn’t work?”
“Nah, this spell work came to us with the info. Rumour has it the old boss sent it to us. It should work.” Bill sat down awkwardly on the floor, his long bandy legs cross awkwardly.
“The old boss huh?” Aaron seemed shocked at this news. “Wow, a lot of people not too happy with how they bowed out. Big risk reaching out like this.”
“Makes sense though. If they’re right, then this needs to be knocked on the head sharpish. Not too keen on doing Satan’s bidding again. They never were one of us really.” Bill had pulled his phone out of his pocket and had begun scrolling idly. Aaron paced about impatiently.
“It’s been over an hour. If someone summoned me and I took this long I would get a right bollocking,” Aaron said, his massive frame shifting awkwardly as he leant on the sill of a large window set into the side of the warehouse. He stared out, his gaze caught by something moving in the night.
“That’s the problem, though right?” asked Bill, lifting his attention from his phone. “These Jinn fucks have no sense of proper rules. Just do whatever they want.” He peered across at Aaron who had pressed his face as close to the glass as he could. “Hey, you listening to me at all?”
“Shut up idiot,” barked Aaron. “They’re coming.”
Martin stood outside the warehouse. He could feel the pull coming from inside. Its echoing scream filled his mind, driving him onwards. Around him other Jinn had gathered, answering the siren call. Officer workers, mothers, children, vagrants, his brothers and sisters had chosen a wide range of forms. Martin could feel them. An invisible flame shimmering around the other possessed. One girl’s fire was a searing inferno. She wore a tattered red dress, her face and body were covered in large burns. Mud was matted in her hair. This was her, the one who had opened the doorway allowing his siblings through. The pain from the beacon had been infuriating, this fragile mortal shell forcing Martin to make his own way slowly here. Slowly, as one, the crowd of Jinn began to walk towards the warehouse.
“How many do you think there are?” asked Bill, trying to steal a peek over Aarons shoulder.
“No idea, hard to see but I think at least thirty? Maybe more.” Aaron knocked Bill backwards as he stood up straight. “That’s a lot more than we expected.”
“Think we need to call for backup?” asked Bill
“I think you arseholes are out of your depth,” said a third voice. They turned to see a short man with an athletic build stood under the light. He wore a white tracksuit with white trainers. A grey flat cap covered short blond hair. The man’s hands were in his pockets, his elbows bent outwards in a cocksure stance.
“Fucking great a member of the boyband brigade. Going to dance number our problems away?” Aaron puffed up his chest as he spoke.
“God, I fucking wish. Would be a lot easier than dealing with you shitheads.” The man pulled a cigarette from his pocket and slipped it into his mouth. It lit on its own, and he took a long drag. “No, I’m here to help you fuckwits deal with this little problem.”
“We don’t need no help from some fucking birdbrain flyboy,” chimed in Bill from behind Aaron, hiding behind the larger man.
“Please, you two used to be big news. Belial and Amon. Real fire and brimstone bigshots. Now you’re skulking round in disused buildings playing angry birds and waiting to get your shit kicked in by a crowd of Jinn.” The man in white tapped the ash from his cigarette.
“Better watch your mouth feathers or I’ll shut you up,” said Aaron cracking his knuckles.
“Look you cock wombles, I’m here to help. Names Micky.” The man held out his hand. Bill and Aaron stood perfectly still, staring at Micky. “Not hand shakers? That’s fine. Look we got as much a horse in this race as you. We need to put aside our differences for now and deal with these bell ends outside. Then we can get back to calling each other all the cunts under the sun. Agreed?”
“Got to be a catch,” said Bill. “Never known a fucking flapper to do something without an agenda.”
“Yeah he’s right,” agreed Aaron. “What’s the other angle here?”
“Hah! You got me!” laughed Micky. “Look we know your intel and spell work came from someone we have a very keen interest in finding. Thought maybe we could do a deal, tit for tat and all that.”
Aaron and Bill looked at each for a moment. “Fine by me,” said Aaron.
“Me too,” added Bill. “We haven’t exactly got much love for them either. You got a deal.”
The main entrance to the warehouse was a large metal shutter. Age had worn its mechanism, so it shuddered and groaned as it slowly slid open. Both sides stood facing each other across the slowly rising divide. A large crowd stood on one side, a young girl in red at its head. On the other side two suited men stood either side of a man in a white tracksuit.
“I should have guessed,” said Claire. “Just can’t leave us be can you?”
“Yeah sorry about that,” replied Micky. “But the universe is delicate. We can’t have you going around just doing what you want. Things need to be balanced. Even these pit dwellers understand that.” He gestured to the men on either side of him with his thumbs. “You’re a third party who decides to run up and down the see-saw when it’s perfectly level. A nuisance.”
“You tell yourselves that. Whatever helps you cope. The universe is chaos. Disorder. Random probabilities colliding with each other spinning off into new events endlessly. That’s a kind of beautiful order in its own way,” said Claire. She laughed. “You don’t even know why you do it do you? This endless back and forth between you tipping the scales one way and the other. It’s been so long you’ve forgotten why you started. There’s no time outside this reality you know?” She stepped forward from the crowd, stepping right up to the three men. She leant forward and cupped her hand around her mouth. “I’ll let you into a secret, we remember everything. No time means no lost memories. What you do? It’s a massive waste of time!” The crowd burst into uproarious laughter.
“We will tell you exactly once,” said Aaron, “return to your void or we will make you.”
“What you three alone? Didn’t think we were worth more effort? Two demons and one angel. You used to rally armies against us!” Claire’s voice was raised in contempt. “Armies!” She prodded Aaron in the chest. “You call your little pocket dimension Hell? I’ll tell you what’s Hell! You would think that nothing exists between realities, but you would be dead wrong. We can slip in here when reality is weakened a little, but that… other place, the same rings true there. The things there can slip into the gap between reality and they are hungry. Long millennia periods of nothingness broken by trying to escape from things I couldn’t even begin to describe. Why do you think we come here?” She walked up and down before the men.
“The fuck are you even talking about?” asked Bill. “If that were true you would be throwing yourselves at our mercy, not murdering humans left and right.”
“Hey!” said Claire, “Just because we’re running doesn’t mean we can’t have fun. Now are you going to walk away before this chat gets distinctly less friendly?”
“Funny,” Micky answered, his vo
ice dripping with sarcasm. “Was going to ask you the same thing.” He stretched his neck which let out a loud click. “Ready lads?”
“Guess so,” said Aaron raising his fists.
It happened in an instant, between eyeblinks the three men vanished, replaced instead by their true forms. In the centre of their line-up was a mass of overlapping wings, wrapped around a pulsing white light. Before the wings floated a sword and round bronze shield, each of which was engulfed in white flames. To the angels left was a hulking brute. Great horns bent outwards from its forehead, its skin a strange hodgepodge of scales and fur. It stood on cloven hooves, its great muscled torso resting on massive forearms like a gorilla. Aaron shook his horned head, flecks of white foam forming at his mouth. On the right of the angel a humanoid form floated a few inches from the ground. Its limbs were long and oddly shaped, its arms dragging along the ground as it floated slowly. The creature’s torso was wrapped in thick black leather straps. It had no bottom jaw, a long lashing tongue thrashing about greedily. Two great metal spikes jutted out from where its eyes should be, trickles of blood running down its face like tears. As Bill hovered slowly forward his body writhed like a snake. With a roar the crowd of Jinn surged forward.
The angel floated in the centre of the warehouse. Its wings tattered and burnt. Blood poured from a wound on Aarons chest, the thick dark liquid matting his scattered fur. Bill held his shoulder, one of his arms torn clean off. New leather straps had grown to cover the stump. Around them lay scattered bodies of dozens of humans. Each one they had slain had released a blast of fire which had vanished into the night sky. Micky’s initial beam of searing light had incinerated five alone as they had swarmed towards them. Hubris had been the trio’s downfall, assuming that the Jinn’s magic would be no threat they had brought nothing to prevent it. Too late they had discovered the flames of the Jinn were anathema to them. The blasts of elemental chaos searing the beings of order. Weakened and tired they had slowly been pushed back deeper into the warehouse.
“I think maybe lads, we misjudged this one,” chimed Micky in overlapping voices like a choir.
“You think?” rumbled Aaron. “At least we go down swinging.” They had been surrounded, and despite their casualties ten Jinn remained, including the one that seemed to be their leader. The girl grinned, her hands glowing in the dark with blue fire.
“It was a valiant try, I will give you that,” said Claire, holding up her hands. The flames in her palms danced excitedly.
“Fuck you bitch!” hissed Bill, spittle flying from his tongue as it lashed about.
“Charming,” Claire said as she took a deep breath and blew the fire on her palms. It burst forth in a gout of flame. Micky glowed brightly momentarily and then there was a blinding flash. Claire’s mortal body closed its eyes in an instinctive response. They stung, the flash momentarily blinding her. When her vision returned, the trio were gone. Her flames had set the warehouse ablaze and the fire was hungrily spreading throughout it. “Shame,” she said.
There was a crash of leaves and a snapping of branches as three men appeared mid-air and crashed through the tree tops. They tumbled between branches before hitting the wet forest ground with a splash of mud. The two men wearing suits lifted themselves to their knees and began vomiting in loud long wretches.
“You’re welcome,” said Micky trying in vain to wipe mud from his tracksuit.
“Could of fucking warned us,” complained Bill, wiping vomit from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve.
“Honestly I didn’t even know if it would work. I don’t know if an angel has ever done that with demons in tow before. It was a miracle I could do it at all after that fucking shitshow,” Micky admitted.
“Well,” said Aaron standing to his feet. He twisted his back a few times and then stretched, “at least you know it works. Where the fuck are we?”
“Norway,” said Bill without missing a beat. “You only get these kinds of trees growing together like this near the north of the country. What?” He stopped talking as both the other men looked at him puzzled. “I like trees. You guys are ancient immortals and you never picked up a hobby or two?”
“That’s fair,” agreed Micky. “I got a pretty good home brewery going on in my garage. Think I owe you two a beer at least.”
“At least,” repeated Aaron. “Why are we in Norway?”
“Didn’t really have time to aim.” Mickey shrugged. “We better get back to civilisation, let our respective camps know what’s going on.”
“Ok, well fly us back feathers,” said Bill. “Don’t think there’s anything left in my stomach to throw up.
“Uh, yeah, well,” Micky began. He sounded embarrassed. “I’m kind of, out of juice I guess you could say. We’ll have to walk.”
“Amazing,” Aaron rolled his eyes. “Anyone know which way to go?”
Claire stood watching the warehouse burn. Around her were the remaining Jinn. The others would need to find new hosts. She stared at the fire, watching it dance. It was beautiful. Chaos in action.
“You there!” she pointed at one of the other Jinn, a young man in a pale blue shirt who was sitting on the ground, watching the flames grow higher.
“Yes?” replied the Jinn. Claire could see his essence. The invisible flames flickered faintly from his host. Soon they would grow stronger as all that remained of the bodies original owner was purged.
“What is your name?” she demanded.
“This mortal was called Martin,” said the Jinn.
“Martin, I would have you gather some things for me. Our enemies close in on us. We will require greater numbers if we are to survive here. Can you do this for me?” Claire asked.
“Of course, consider it done.” Martin bowed his head.
“Good, well we cannot sit here and watch these flames forever. We have work to do.”
Chapter 16
Lucille hummed to herself as she wiped the bar top with a rag, its cleanliness suspect. She was alone, the hip indie clientele Lucille had cultivated too busy charging large sums of money to tweak corporate logos slightly from an office share to partake in some early morning drinking. She gripped some clean glasses in one hand and placed them on the shelf below the worktop. She looked across at Abbie, who was sweeping a small stage they had installed for what was supposed to be open mic night but had rapidly turned into bad poetry night. Abbie’s gaze caught Lucille’s and she shook her head. Lucille rolled her eyes.
“This is going to suck,” she admitted to herself. She turned and lifted the handset from the old black rotary phone embedded in the wall behind the bar. Tucking the handset between her shoulder and her ear she plucked a business card from the corkboard next to the phone. She peered at it closely carefully dialling the number into the phone. “Hi, yeah, is that Raj Singh? Hi, its Lucille. Yes, I’m phoning you. What did you expect when you left me your card? Figured I send a talking snake or something? Look, I need to talk, can you come by the bar? Awesome, see you soon.”
There was a clack as Abbie rested the broom against the bar. “You’re going to tell then? That could get us in big trouble.” Abbie hopped up onto one of the bar stools as she spoke.
“Probably, but we’re all in a lot more trouble if I don’t.”
Chelsea and Mercedes stood in front of the house. Even in the early morning light it loomed. Mercedes grinned excitedly whilst Chelsea pulled her large pink puffer jacket tighter to herself. The on-off rain of the past few days had stopped, but Pontypridd in the middle of February could be bitterly cold.
“I’m not sure about this,” said Chelsea. She shivered briefly in the cold and turned so the house was behind her. “I nearly died last time.”
“Of come on, you know it will be fine,” replied Mercedes. She was holding her phone up with both hands, trying to get the whole house into shot. “That medium we saw said that she was just trying to talk to you. It was an accident. Said she was drawn to your…what did she call it?”
“Effervescent spir
it,” Chelsea answered. “I looked it up, I think it means I’m gassy?”
“She got that right!” her sister laughed. “Come on, we go in there, get some videos for YouTube, some pictures for the gram and we are landed.” Mercedes turned to match her sister holding up the phone to get a picture of the two of them before the house. “Come on cheer up,” she said elbowing her sister playfully. “Milly Jones has two thousand Instagram followers and she thinks she’s a model. Someone sent her these weight loss lollies the other day. For free!”
“I pretty sure she paid for those and only pretended to get them for free,” said Chelsea. “She only did that to make herself look more important.”
“Who cares! We do this, and people won’t send us stuff for free, they’ll be the ones paying us. The ghost sisters. Ghost hunters, models, influencers!”
