The Case of the Hidden Daemon

by Lucy Banks

  Pamela erupted into giggles, which soon set everyone else off, including Kester. He hadn’t realised how tension-laden the atmosphere had been until now, and was grateful for the light relief.

  Finally, Bill wiped his eyes. “On that note, I’ll leave you all to it. I’ll be out in the kitchen if you need me.”

  Still chuckling, they picked up their drinks and sat at the table in the corner, which was conveniently close to a snug radiator. Kester found himself squashed against the wall by Pamela’s considerable thigh, then compressed even more tightly as Mike squeezed in too.

  “Right then,” Serena announced. She tapped a perfectly manicured nail against her glass. “Let’s get to business. What the hell is going on?”

  Miss Wellbeloved cleared her throat. “Major problems, unfortunately. Gosh, I’m not even sure where to start.”

  “How about at the beginning?” Mike suggested, slurping at his pint.

  She nodded. “Very well. The government have received a letter of a rather unpleasant nature.”

  “Surely that’s nothing unusual,” Pamela said with a laugh. She leaned back against the wall, squashing Kester even more in the process. “They’re not exactly a popular lot, are they?”

  Miss Wellbeloved shook her head. “This letter was serious. It was a threat, to be precise. A dangerous threat that could shake our society to its very foundations.”

  “What sort of threat?” Serena asked with a suspicious look. “And who was it from?”

  Miss Wellbeloved took a deep breath. She clasped her glass tightly in both hands, pausing before replying, “It was from the Thelemites.”

  “Are you serious?” Kester studied her expression, then laughed. “Come on. Really? We only went to see them a couple of days ago, and they looked pretty harmless to me.” He thought back to his encounter with Barty Melville, who he’d thought looked like a manatee in a dress. Hardly a major cause for concern. Parvati Chowdhury, the tiny woman with the fierce glare, had been more intimidating, but hadn’t exactly looked like a serious governmental threat.

  “The Thelemites are a large organisation,” Miss Wellbeloved said. “Barty Melville is just one of many.”

  Mike placed a hand on the table. “Hang on a minute,” he said slowly. “This doesn’t add up. Since when have the Thelemites ever gone around making threats? That’s not their style, is it? I mean, they like to stir things up and cause trouble, but they’re not terrorists, for goodness’ sake.”

  Miss Wellbeloved shook her head. “I’m not sure anymore,” she replied. “If what Curtis Philpot told me is true, they’ve changed a lot.”

  “What was the threat?” Serena asked, looking worried.

  Miss Wellbeloved paused. “To create a permanent door,” she whispered eventually, then clasped a hand across her mouth.

  Mike laughed. “That’s ridiculous. It’s not possible, for starters.”

  “Infinite Enterprises managed it,” Miss Wellbeloved reminded him.

  “Yeah, but only through cutting-edge technology and millions of pounds,” Mike replied, slopping his pint without noticing. “The Thelemites haven’t got the resources or the skills to achieve that.”

  Kester coughed. “Hang on a minute,” he said, feeling more confused by the moment. “Can you rewind a bit? What door do you mean? And why is that a threat? I don’t quite follow.”

  “A spirit door, of course!” Serena snapped. She fixed him with a stony glare. “Christ, do we have to explain every last detail to you? When are you going to catch up, eh?”

  Kester chose to ignore her. “But aren’t there spirit doors around anyway? I mean, how do the spirits arrive here? I’d presumed there were spirit doors all over the place.”

  Pamela snorted and wrapped an arm over his shoulder. “Goodness me, no. Not anymore, anyway.”

  “So how do the spirits get into our world?” Kester asked. He was now completely baffled. Probably this is something I should have verified a long time ago, he thought, seeing the incredulity on the others’ faces.

  Mike took a deep breath, placing his pint firmly down on the table. “You see,” he began, as though explaining a simple concept to a dim-witted child, “spirits can come in and out of our world whenever they like, using their own energy force. But not many choose to, because it’s difficult to do so.”

  “That’s right,” Miss Wellbeloved added. “It’s generally only the spirits that really like humans that make the effort.”

  “Like Serena’s incubus,” Mike added.

  “Stop calling it my incubus!” Serena screeched. “You’re just doing it to wind me up.”

  “So, you see,” Miss Wellbeloved continued, ignoring Serena’s outburst, “normally, it’s not too much of a problem. Spirits turn up occasionally, but at present, they’re relatively under control.”

  “Yes,” added Pamela, “they enter our world, we hear about it, then we capture them. Job done.”

  “. . . and then you take them to Infinite Enterprises, who returns them to their own world, using their official spirit door,” Kester concluded. He knew that much, given that he’d done a few of the London spirit-runs with Mike and had seen how it all worked. Not that he’d ever been inside the Infinite Enterprise building, a vast, glass behemoth in the centre of the capital, but he’d watched Mike deliver the spirits in their water bottles to official-looking men and women in suits, which was enough to emphasise how important the company was.

  “However,” Miss Wellbeloved continued, “if you create a permanent spirit door, there’s nothing to stop spirits entering our world in a blink of an eye, without any effort at all. Unless you police it carefully, like Infinite Enterprises does with theirs.”

  “So, it’s a bit like a border control?” Kester said, trying to get it straight. “If you open a spirit door without monitoring it properly, there’s no controls at the borders, so spirits can come and go as they please?”

  Miss Wellbeloved nodded. “I don’t love the analogy, but I suppose so, yes.”

  “Which means,” Mike added, “that if the Thelemites manage to create a new door, we’ve got a huge problem. We’d be overrun with spirits, and there’d be nothing we could do about it.”

  Kester shuddered. He imagined a world where the streets were filled with howling banshees, unpredictable poltergeists, and sinister ghouls. It didn’t even bear thinking about.

  “But you don’t think they can create another door?” he asked, looking at Mike.

  “Nah,” Mike said, voice muffled as he downed the remnants of his pint. “Take it from me, the technology needed to create a spirit door, let alone keep it open, is formidable. You’d need millions just to make it, not to mention millions to keep it in operation.”

  “Remember the Sun-Doors, Mike,” Miss Wellbeloved warned.

  Mike scoffed and slammed his glass on the table. “Come on, Miss W. When was the last Sun-Door built, eh?”

  “Sun-Doors are ancient gateways that used to be used as spirit doors thousands of years ago,” Pamela whispered helpfully in Kester’s ear. “There’s a few still remaining, though no longer in operation. In Bolivia, Egypt, places like that. People believe that spirit-door openers created them, using the sun’s power to keep them open.”

  “What if they’ve discovered the ancient secrets of harnessing the power of the sun to create a spirit door?” Miss Wellbeloved said. “If ancient civilisations managed it, what’s to stop the Thelemites from doing the same?”

  “No, I don’t buy that at all,” Serena said. “Experts have proven it’s just a myth; there’s no way of achieving it in real life. You know that. Plus, you’d need a spirit-door opener to get things started, which I very much doubt the Thelemites have, not to mention—”

  Mike held up a hand, interrupting Serena mid-flow. “Hang on a minute, my friends.”

  They looked at him questioningly. He held up his empty
pint glass as though presenting a trophy, then pointed to the bar. “I need a refill,” he declared. “And because this is a serious meeting, I’ll even offer to buy a round.”

  “Blimey, what’s happened?” Serena snorted as she presented him with her glass. “Mike’s buying a round? Mike’s actually reaching into his pocket, wiping the cobwebs off his wallet, and purchasing other people some drinks for once?”

  Mike gave her a wink. “A simple thank you would suffice.”

  The others waited while Mike summoned Bill from the kitchen. Whilst the drinks were being poured, Kester mulled over what he’d learned so far. To be honest, he didn’t understand what the fuss was about. After all, he reasoned, if the Thelemites don’t have the ability or funds to create a spirit door, that means it’s just an empty threat, doesn’t it?

  Finally, Mike returned, wielding a tray laden with alcohol. “I come bearing gifts.”

  Bill gave them a cheery wave and disappeared back into the kitchen.

  “I hope you don’t mind me asking,” Kester began, reaching for his pint and wishing that Mike had just ordered him a soft drink instead, “but why is this a big deal? It doesn’t sound like the Thelemites pose any serious threat, do they?”

  “Hear, hear,” Mike agreed, wiping the foam off his upper lip. “Sounds like the government have got in a flap over nothing.”

  Miss Wellbeloved shook her head. “I haven’t even told you the half of it yet.”

  “Oh lord.” Pamela leaned heavily on the table. “Go on, then. Break it to us.”

  “The Thelemites also informed the government that a very old, very powerful daemon has now joined their ranks.”

  “Whoa there,” Kester said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “What did you say? A daemon? Like a devil?” He didn’t like the sound of that at all.

  “No, not like a devil,” Miss Wellbeloved snapped. “Goodness me, why do people always think that? The original meaning of the word ‘daemon’ means ‘genius’ or simply ‘spirit’. It’s not necessarily malevolent at all.”

  “But when they are malevolent, they’re bloody terrifying,” Mike said, pint momentarily forgotten.

  “That’s interesting,” Pamela muttered. “Remember what the hag o’ the dribble said? About a daemon and picking up spirit disturbances?”

  Miss Wellbeloved nodded grimly.

  “What’s this one like, then?” Kester said, already suspecting that he didn’t want to know the answer.

  “This particular daemon has a long history of living among humans. Much like Dr Barqa-Abu, the djinn who will be teaching you at the SSFE. For centuries, this daemon has behaved himself impeccably, inhabiting human bodies and living among us—”

  “Excuse me?” Kester squealed. “Inhabiting human bodies? Like a daemonic possession?”

  “Not at all,” Miss Wellbeloved replied tightly. “Some humans happily allow daemons to inhabit their bodies, especially when the daemon makes them wealthy, beautiful, and successful.”

  “They do possess people against their will sometimes, to be fair,” Pamela noted, then quickly added, “but only on rare occasions,” after catching Miss Wellbeloved’s eye.

  “Daemons are remarkably charismatic, clever creatures,” Miss Wellbeloved continued. “And they absolutely love living with humans. That’s why there are still a few of them around. Believe it or not, one used to work for the government many years ago.”

  “He ran for Prime Minister, actually,” Pamela said. She laughed. “Can you imagine? A daemon Prime Minister? That would have been interesting.”

  “That particular daemon was, and still is, a highly respectable creature,” Miss Wellbeloved reminded her. “Last I heard, he was living on a Caribbean island and raising lots of money for good causes across the world.”

  Kester felt vaguely more optimistic. “So, is the daemon that’s joined the Thelemites a nice spirit then?”

  “Well,” Miss Wellbeloved paused, chewing the side of her nail. “This daemon is certainly a character. For several decades, he’s adopted the human form of an international rock star, actually.” She nodded with great deliberation in Mike’s direction. “I believe you’re especially familiar with him, Mike.”

  Mike’s pint glass faltered mid-air, just inches from his lips. His eyes widened. “If you tell me it’s Billy Dagger, I might actually drop dead of a heart-attack.”

  “Yes, it’s Billy Dagger,” Miss Wellbeloved confirmed. Mike let out a noise not unlike a squawking parrot. Kester gasped. Surely not, he thought. The timing was uncanny given they’d seen him perform only a few days earlier.

  “Why didn’t you say something before?” Kester asked. He felt a little rattled. The performer he’d seen leaping around on stage had been almost eerily talented, but he’d had no idea he’d been watching a spirit in action. He recollected Billy Dagger’s ethereal voice, his boundless energy, and formidable stage presence, and nodded. It did make sense, in a strange kind of way.

  “I didn’t know myself that Billy Dagger was a daemon.” Miss Wellbeloved shook her head. “Daemon identities are closely guarded, for their own protection. The government only releases details in extreme cases such as this. Normally, even the supernatural agencies would have no idea.”

  “Why not?”

  She sighed. “Because unfortunately, even supernatural agencies can’t be trusted to behave themselves with spirits. Concealing daemon identities is part of the spirit-protection programme. But of course, if daemons wish to reside in our world full-time, they need to apply for a permit, just like any other spirit.”

  “That means they must declare their whereabouts or get deported back to the spirit world,” Pamela whispered.

  “Gosh.” Kester leaned back against the wall and mulled it over. It was difficult to take in. He wasn’t sure if he was missing something, but he still couldn’t see what the real problem was. Judging by the expressions on Mike and Serena’s faces, they clearly felt the same.

  Miss Wellbeloved coughed, guessing their thoughts. “You’re wondering why the government are taking the threat so seriously, aren’t you?”

  “Just a bit,” Serena confirmed.

  “Well,” Miss Wellbeloved said and gestured for them to move closer. “That’s not the end of it, I’m afraid. Someone broke into Infinite Enterprises two evenings ago.”

  “What?” Mike slapped the table and all the glasses teetered alarmingly. “Not possible. No way.”

  “Not possible for a human,” Miss Wellbeloved corrected. “But not entirely impossible for a spirit, as you know. If they were incredibly powerful, like a daemon.”

  “But why would anyone want to break in?” Serena said, looking aghast. “I mean, it’s not as though they can steal the spirit door, is it? The equipment they use to open it must weigh the same as a herd of elephants!”

  Miss Wellbeloved shrugged. “That’s just it. No-one knows why Infinite Enterprises was broken into. Nothing was taken, but it was clear someone unauthorised had been in the premises. In particular, down in the archives department. Certain files had been rifled through.”

  Pamela shuddered. “Now, that’s more worrying. What on earth were they looking for? Information on how to open a spirit door, perhaps?”

  “I suppose the next question is,” Mike said with a nervous twiddle of his thumbs, “what’s our role in all of this?”

  “We’ve been called upon to assist with the case,” Miss Wellbeloved said. “So has Larry Higgins and, of course, Infinite Enterprises. Various other supernatural agencies have also been informed and called upon to investigate further. Quite simply, when someone threatens the security of the entire country, it becomes a problem for us all.”

  Mike ran a hand through his hair and glanced over to the door. A group of young men entered a second later, still in their office suits, breaking the quiet with laughter and stomping feet. Bill emerged a moment late
r, clutching a tea-towel in one hand and a glass in the other. He greeted the men warmly, then nodded meaningfully to them.

  “I think quiet-time might be officially over,” Mike muttered and looked at his watch.

  “What’s the conclusion then?” Pamela downed the last of her wine quickly, eyes still fixed on the noisy young men.

  “We’ve all been called to the Infinite Enterprises offices for an emergency meeting,” Miss Wellbeloved said. She looked awkward.

  Mike groaned. “I can guess what you’re about to say,” he said as he examined her expression. “You’re going to tell me we’ve got to go tomorrow, aren’t you? Is it tomorrow? Please don’t say it’s tomorrow.”

  “Nine o’clock sharp,” Miss Wellbeloved confirmed.

  Mike groaned. “Are you serious?”

  “I’ve got to book our train tickets tonight,” she added. “We’ll need to meet at six o’clock at the train station.”

  “You’re joking,” Kester said.

  “Regrettably not,” Miss Wellbeloved replied. She looked over her shoulder at the men, who were now raucously tucking into pints and numerous bags of crisps. “I suggest we all go home and get as much rest as possible. It’s going to be a busy day tomorrow.”

  They gathered their belongings, preparing themselves to go out into the cold once again. Kester had a sudden thought, and pulled Miss Wellbeloved to one side.

  “Will Dad be going tomorrow?” he asked.

  Miss Wellbeloved shrugged. “Ideally, yes,” she replied. “Philpot expects to see him there. But if he can’t manage—”

  “—we’ll just have to manage on his behalf,” Kester concluded as he straightened his jacket. They pulled the door open, waving at Bill on their way out.

  “Yes, that’s correct.” Miss Wellbeloved looked anxious. “I’m sure we’ll cope.”

  It was a clear, dark winter evening, and the moon glowed overhead, white as ice, narrowly framed by the buildings surrounding them. Why does the moon always look like it’s screaming? Kester wondered and shivered. He’d never been able to understand why other people saw a smiling face in the moon’s surface when all he could see were begging eyes and a mouth stretched wide in horror.