by Lucy Banks
Miss Wellbeloved patted his arm, startling him out of his thoughts. “See you all tomorrow,” she said as she nimbly crossed the road. “Sleep well.”
Serena snorted. “Unlikely. I have no doubt that the sodding incubus is going to pop out at some point in the night.”
“Just enjoy it,” Mike said. “You love the attention, really.”
Serena shot him a poisonous glare, then stalked up the road. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” she shouted over her shoulder without waiting for a response. Her words were swiftly lost on the freezing breeze.
“I brought the car in today,” Mike said. “Do either of you two want a lift?”
Pamela nodded. Kester considered it, then shook his head. “It’s okay,” he said. “I need to call Anya anyway, and it’s easier doing it outside the house, where Pineapple and Daisy aren’t listening in on my conversation.”
“Suit yourself, sir.” With a flourish, Mike linked arms with Pamela, hoisting her along the pavement. “Come on, my lady. Let’s get you home.”
“You’re an old charmer, you are,” she giggled.
Kester watched them depart, then headed up the hill, pulling his phone out of his pocket and trying to ignore the chill numbness already settling into his fingertips. If it doesn’t snow soon, I’ll eat my hat, he thought, shivering. To his surprise, Anya answered almost immediately.
“Gosh, that was quick.” Kester crossed the road, deliberately avoiding eye-contact with the gang of football-shirt-wearing men loitering outside a nearby pub.
“I am glad you called. I’m worried, Kester.”
“Really?” He dug his free hand into his pocket. It didn’t provide much warmth, but at least it was out of the wind. “What about? Is everything alright?”
“I think someone is watching me.”
He frowned. “Why? What makes you think that?”
“My bedroom light. It keeps flickering. And it is cold in here.” Her voice was so low that Kester struggled to hear her.
“Could it just be that your lightbulb is going?” he suggested. “Also, it is bloody freezing cold at the moment.”
“No,” she said with a sniff. “This is different. Every time I look down at my book, the light flickers. When I look up, it goes back to normal. And my room, it is so cold, I can see my breath. But my radiator is on. To be honest, I am a bit scared.”
Kester paused. Is she being paranoid? he wondered. Certainly, if he’d just been kidnapped by a supernatural organisation, he’d be fairly paranoid too. However, flickering lights and unnaturally cold temperatures did sound distinctly like spirit activity.
“Do you want me to come over?” he asked.
Anya paused. “No,” she said. “It’s okay. Miss Wellbeloved, she said that they wouldn’t hurt me, didn’t she? Mind you, I don’t feel comfortable being on my own.”
Kester swallowed hard. “I’m sure you are safe,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “But it never hurts to be cautious, does it? Would you like to come and stay at mine for the night?”
His question was met with silence followed by a giggle. Kester felt confused, then suddenly realised what he’d said. He blushed, heartily relieved it was too dark for any passers-by to see him.
“That’s very forward of you, Kester.”
“Gosh, I really didn’t mean it like that,” he bumbled. “I mean, you can sleep in my room, and I’ll sleep on the sofa. Of course.”Anya laughed. “I know you didn’t mean it like that,” she replied. “You are too much of a gentleman. Thank you for the offer, but I think I will stay here for now. I might come over if it gets worse, though. My housemate is here, so I will be fine.”
He nodded. “I’m sure you will be. But keep your phone with you, just in case.” After all, he reasoned, there’s no reason why the Thelemites would come after Anya. If it is them, they’re probably just using one of their spirit members to check she’s behaving herself.
“What have you been doing tonight?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Ah, just down the pub. You know.” He briefly entertained the thought of telling her what he’d found out about the Thelemites but decided against it. It was classified government information, after all.
“Was that with your workmates? What were you talking about?”
“Nothing much,” Kester lied, crossing his fingers instinctively in his pocket. “Just having a relaxing drink after work, nothing else.”
“Oh.” She sounded disappointed.
“Anyway,” Kester continued, darting nimbly around a group of young women walking along the pavement. “If you need someone, just call me, okay?” he continued. “I’m happy to come over, if it makes you feel safer.”
“Thank you, Kester.” She sounded genuinely grateful. “I am glad I met you.”
His blush deepened. “Really?”
“Yes.” She chuckled. “You make me feel protected. That is a nice feeling.”
He beamed, forgetting all about the cold for a moment. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever been told that before.”
“Well, now you have. I’d better go, I haven’t had my dinner yet. Thanks for listening, Kester.”
“It’s a pleasure,” he replied, meaning it. “Have a good evening. And don’t worry about the light flickering. It’s probably nothing.”
“I know,” she replied. “Good night, Kester.”
He hung up and stuffed his phone back in his pocket, feeling extraordinarily pleased with himself. She said I make her feel protected, he thought and felt his breath catch, just a little. No-one ever says things like that about me. Maybe I’m not as useless as I thought.
A glance at his watch told him that it was nearly seven o’clock. The thought of wrapping himself up in his duvet, blocking out the cold, and thinking about Anya was very tempting indeed. Except he knew that he needed to think about tomorrow’s emergency meeting instead, not to mention the news that Miss Wellbeloved had just relayed to them.
Billy Dagger, eh? he thought, once again feeling incredulous. How is it even possible that the singer I saw die on stage only this week was actually a daemon in disguise? Not to mention, tangled up with the Thelemites, who I didn’t even know existed until a few days ago.
It all felt rather surreal, which was probably why he was struggling to take the information in.
If only I could just have a break, he thought as he staggered up the road. The night air bit into his skin, making his eyes water. Just a few days off to recover, rather than this relentless onslaught. That would help.
However, he was certain there would be no days off soon—if Miss Wellbeloved’s worried expression had been anything to go by, things were only going to get more chaotic.
Chapter 6: Infinite Enterprises
Getting out of bed at five in the morning was one of the worst things Kester had endured in recent months, which was saying a lot. Frost laced his window panes, which would have been pretty had it not emphasised how freezing cold it was. This is ridiculous, he thought as he gazed out into the darkness. The trees in the neighbour’s courtyard were swaying violently, suggesting a stiff breeze to accompany the coldness. Why am I doing this? He toyed with the idea of calling in sick, then imagined his father’s look of disapproval and thought better of it.
After a lukewarm shower and a hasty rummage for some fresh clothes, Kester stomped out the front door, resisting the urge to slam it behind him. And now I’ve got to run to the station because I’ve left it too late to call a taxi, he realised, checking his watch. Could this day have got off to a worse start?
Half an hour later, he staggered into the station, chest burning, eyes watering. He spotted the others immediately, huddled by the ticket office, wearing identical expressions of irritation. Kester wheezed, bent over double, then clutched his knees.
“Seriously,” he panted, “don’t even think about having a go at me
. I ran all the way.”
“We can tell,” Serena said. She surveyed him from head to toe. “You’re covered in sweat.”
Kester straightened, coughed, then noticed his father, who was wearing his usual fedora. “What are you doing here?” he asked, blinking rapidly.
Ribero scoffed. “It is my agency, yes? Why would I not be here, silly boy?”
Without warning, Miss Wellbeloved nudged Kester towards the gates. “No time for that now.” She flicked a ticket in his direction. “If we miss this train, then we’ll be late for the meeting, which won’t do at all.”
Just as she finished her sentence, the train pulled to a halt at the platform, the screech of brakes echoing around the cavernous space. Cursing, Miss Wellbeloved broke into a trot, haring towards the stairs with surprising spindly elegance. The others followed, and Kester reluctantly brought up the rear, wondering just how much more sprinting he could possibly cope with in one morning. His clothes were drenched in sweat, and he dreaded to think how awful he’d look when he finally reached Infinite Enterprise’s smart London office.
Boarding the train just as the guard blew his whistle, they collapsed in the nearest seats with a collective sigh of relief.
“I never want to do that again,” Kester muttered. He pressed his head against the window, fighting to gain control of his racing heart.
Mike moved his rucksack under his feet, then leaned over. “Think of it as a free gym session,” he said with a wink. “You’ll get a rippling six-pack in no time.”
A rustle from across the aisle distracted them both. Ribero was rummaging in his briefcase, depositing a succession of objects on the seat next to him. Finally, he pulled out a napkin followed by a croissant and a tiny jar of jam. A further search produced a tiny silver knife.
“That’s a decadent breakfast, Dad,” Kester commented, eyeing the croissant yearningly. He’d completely forgotten to bring anything for himself.
Ribero shrugged. “Ah, if you are going to eat, you eat properly, right? None of this junk food.”
“I agree.” Miss Wellbeloved gave an approving nod.
“I thought you’d be staying at home today,” Kester continued, watching his father’s hands, which looked far less trembly than the previous day.
Ribero raised an eyebrow. “Trying to get rid of me, eh?”
“No, of course not.” Kester grinned, settling himself more comfortably into his seat. “I’m glad you’re here. Just surprised, that’s all.”
“I heard you all did great yesterday at the wine quarry caves, yes?”
“It’s Beer Quarry,” Miss Wellbeloved tutted. “Honestly, I think you do it on purpose sometimes. You’ve lived here for decades, there’s no way you didn’t know its proper name.”
“Ah, but wine is nicer, right?” Ribero patted the corner of his mouth, then applied another smear of jam to the remains of his croissant. “Beer is such a nasty British drink. Ugh.”
“I’ll let the good people of Beer know that you think they should change their town’s name then,” Miss Wellbeloved retorted. “Now, shall we start talking about today?” She cast an eye around the empty carriage before adding quietly, “there’s a lot we need to discuss before we go to the meeting.”
Pamela yawned. “Really? Can’t we just catch up on our sleep instead? I’m ever so tired. Hemingway kept barking in the night, he was driving me mad.”
Kester grinned. He’d spent a few nights at Pamela’s house when he’d first met Dr Ribero and his agency, and he remembered her shaggy dog very well, not to mention all the hairs he deposited liberally over every surface he passed.
“No, you cannot go to sleep,” Miss Wellbeloved said severely. She reached into her handbag and pulled out her notepad. “I received a brief from Curtis Philpot yesterday evening, and I need to pass the notes on to all of you.”
Serena stretched out on the chair. “Oh, go on then,” she muttered. “If we must. I’m still not convinced it’s as serious as the government thinks, though. It sounds like an empty threat to me.”
“Someone broke into Infinite Enterprises, one of the most secure buildings in the UK,” Miss Wellbeloved barked. “Don’t tell me that’s not serious.”
“Alright, alright,” Serena sighed. “Keep your hair on.”
“Someone not get a very good night’s sleep?” Mike asked with a gleeful glint in his eye. “Old lover-boy incubus keeping you up again?”
Serena’s lips pressed so tightly together they practically disappeared. “It’s not funny, Mike. Nothing about this situation is funny. Show some sympathy.”
“Well, the incubus certainly has stamina, doesn’t he? Keeping you up all night long, what a legend, eh?”
“Can somebody make him shut up?” Serena scowled. “It’s far too early in the morning to deal with his stupidity.”
Pamela shook her head. “I very much doubt it, love.”
“Anyway,” Miss Wellbeloved interrupted, peering at them disapprovingly over the top of her glasses. “Listen to these notes, please.”
They all shifted in their seats and waited patiently. Outside, the first hint of dawn glowed weakly over the distant fields, casting a feeble glow over the surrounding empty seats. Kester rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn.
“Right,” Miss Wellbeloved continued. “Firstly, I need to let you know something important.” She glanced at Ribero. “Larry Higgins will be there.”
“Ah, the Higgins,” Ribero spat, arms crossed. “Hopefully, he may have an accident on the way in, eh? Maybe something nice and terminal.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Luke and Dimitri will be there too.”
“Who else?” Pamela asked as she rifled through her bag. Finally, she pulled out something wrapped in foil, which turned out to be a pile of huge cheese sandwiches. Kester’s stomach rumbled in response.
“Curtis Philpot will be present, of course,” Miss Wellbeloved said. “Lord Bernard Nutcombe will be joining by conference call too, so you all need to be on your best behaviour.”
“That’s the Minister of the Supernatural, isn’t it?” Kester said. He’d heard the man mentioned before, usually with a term of abuse added at the start or end of his name.
“Yep, good old bog-brush Nutcombe,” Mike confirmed with a dramatic roll of the eyes. “Can’t stand the man. On the few occasions I’ve had the misfortune to talk to him, I’ve thought he was a complete and utter—”
“—and two Infinite Enterprises officials have also been assigned the case,” Miss Wellbeloved interrupted. “Mr Ian Kingdom-Green and Mr Cardigan Cummings, to be precise. I’ve never met them, but I’ve heard they’re the best of the best.”
Kester raised an eyebrow. “Cardigan? Is that a name?”
“Absolutely,” Miss Wellbeloved confirmed. “I believe the gentleman in question has West Indian roots.”
“I’ve heard them mentioned before.” Mike tapped his leg thoughtfully. “Where have I heard their names?”
“Ghost-Con,” Serena replied. “They won the prize for ‘Best Investigative work,’ remember?”
“And the year before, I believe,” Miss Wellbeloved added. “So, we’re in excellent company.”
“And there’s even more opportunity for us to look crap by comparison,” Mike said gloomily. He folded his arms. “It’s going to be a bloody disaster.”
“Now, now, less negativity, please,” Miss Wellbeloved said, returning to her notes. “There are some other items on the proposed agenda. Firstly, the briefing will contain some highly sensitive information, especially regarding the daemon Hrschni.” She caught sight of Kester’s blank stare and quickly clarified, “the late Billy Dagger.”
“Yes, this is private stuff that normally even people like me don’t get to know, okay?” Ribero said with a severe waggle of the finger. “Very top-secret stuff. You tell others, and—” He sliced his fing
ers across his neck, complete with enthusiastic sound-effect. “No more you. Get it?”
“Oh, come on,” Mike scoffed. “This isn’t the dark ages. They’re not going to murder us because—”
Ribero repeated the neck-slicing action, then nodded meaningfully. “Don’t underestimate how far people will go to protect secrets, Mike.”
Mike rolled his eyes but remained silent.
“Anyway.” Miss Wellbeloved coughed significantly, flicking back through her notes. “This is going to be a collaborative effort, and as a result, we may have to go to London quite a bit. There may be other travel requirements too, but don’t worry, Curtis Philpot has said he’ll pay travel expenses in full prior to booking.”
“Anything else?” Serena asked, examining her nails.
“Yes. There are various files that Infinite Enterprises will be sharing with us today. Particularly on Hrschni—”
“Can we just call him Billy Dagger?” Mike asked with a plaintive look. “I’m not ready to think of him as a daemon just yet.”
“If that suits you better, that’s absolutely fine.”
“How come Infinite Enterprises have the files on Billy Dagger then?” Kester was curious to find out more about how it all worked. Even though he’d been with the agency for a few months, there was still a lot that baffled him.
Ribero cleared his throat. “They hold all the archives, you see? Every file on every spirit—you’ll find it there.”
“Not to mention every file about us,” Mike said darkly. “And plenty of information you probably wish they didn’t know about you.”
“Really? So there’s a file on me?” Kester swallowed. He didn’t much like the thought of that.
“Of course there is, boy!” Ribero nodded imperiously, then gestured at Pamela. “I see you have a spare cheese sandwich there. May I?”
“You’ve just had a croissant!” Pamela placed a protective hand across her remaining sandwich. “And I’m ever so hungry.”
