The Dave Hinchy Code

by Richard Ainsworth

  “Yeh-hoh-wah! Ah-don-eye. 'Eh-ee-yay. Ah-goo-la!”

  Ruby outstretched her arms. Knowing that this was the point of no return, that these next few seconds would decide whether she or Ahriman had the upper hand, or the Higher Magick, she shouted:

  “Before me Raphael! Behind me Gabriel! On my right Michael! On my left Uriel! Above me, the Father! Below me the Mother! Within me, the Eternal Flame! In the name of the ONE. The Almighty Creator of all. I invoke you great angel Lahabiel. As angel of protection. To watch over us and deliver us from all evil. That I may walk the Path of Love, unscathed and unharmed. For this I thank you with all my heart. In the name of the Almighty...”

  Ruby then flung her hands outwards, sprinkling the Holy contents of the bottle into the ether. She drew her arms across her heart and cried out with all of her remaining strength – mental, physical, and spiritual:

  “Ee-ah-oh! Mahl-kooth! Veh-Geb-oo-rah! Veh-Ged-oo-lah! Leh-Oh-lahm, Ah-men!”

  There was a blinding, almost painful, bright blue-white light and the sound of a divine celestial choir, intensely loud, but serenely pure; millions of voices from every point in time and space, all coming together in a sweet, intoxicating, irresistible harmony. The aura was sublime, and materialising within it was a winged figure, with a face of great aquiline beauty; a beauty that held an indomitable strength and steely determination of purpose. The light gained in intensity and frequency, becoming a clear topaz and then a diamond white; so bright that you could not even see the room any more. You could not see anything. The room was there, but had seemingly ceased to exist; its various inhabitants were there, but were no longer individuals, no longer had any physical presence; they were just beings, just ‘there’.

  There was no up, no down, no left or right, back or front, there just ‘was’.

  Ruby continued her incantation, almost weeping with the passion and poetry of the words:

  “But at that time - the end of the world, shall Michael rise up, the great prince, who stands up for the children of your people. And there was a battle in heaven: Michael and his angels battled with the dragon, and although the dragon and his angels fought back, they were overpowered and lost their place in heaven. The huge dragon, the ancient serpent known as the devil or Satan, the seducer of the whole world, was driven out and hurled down to earth and his minions with him!”

  When she had finished, she allowed herself a few seconds of silence to take in the beauty and majesty of what was taking place before them.

  From his place on the floor, where he was still busily grappling with Dave, Reverend Phullaposi looked up in astonishment:

  “What IS that?”

  “WHO is that?” corrected Ruby: “That, my good Reverend, is the Angel Lahabiel. One of the Malachim Angels, I believe. Currently our Saviour, and the immortal foe of this decidedly unsavoury Ahriman character, whose company we could well have done without.”

  “My Lord!” The Reverend was staggered.

  “Not quite, but I’m sure he’ll do the trick,” quipped Ruby.

  “Amen to that!”

  With a heave, the Reverend hurled Dave off him.

  Dave clattered into the wall, stunning himself quite badly; enough for him not to be able to continue the fight.

  Even Devizes and Nutter had stopped their activities, awestruck and terrified in Lahabiel’s presence.

  Ahriman turned to face the Angel with a mingled look of surprise, hatred, disgust and above all, though he did his best to disguise it, fear:

  “You! Nobody has awoken you for millennia, pretty boy! You have no right interfere here, this is my domain! I was summoned here and here I shall stay and summon my own. You have no business here... Especially on the behalf of your sworn enemy, a heathen witch! Go back to harp-plucking with your Nazarene friend and avoid the embarrassment of certain defeat!”

  Although his rhetoric was strong, Ahriman’s underlying terror was all-too-evident.

  The brightly-glowing vision silenced him merely by raising its hand.

  “Ahriman, deceiver and swindler, false flatterer and bully. Surely you must remember that the enemy of my enemy is my friend?”

  The voice resonated and reverberated around the room. Definitely benign, but not to be trifled with.

  The Angel continued to hover in the air, quite at ease, then in the blink of an eye, he made a direct line for Ahriman, drawing a slim, silver-tipped lance as he did so.

  Ahriman backed off to gain space and time to counter-attack.

  Ruby busied herself reciting incantations of protection for all but the two combatants.

  Reverend Phullaposi saw his chance and threw himself, athame first, into the back of the Demon.

  Ahriman screamed as much in indignation as pain from the Reverend’s attack.

  The whole building shook with his cries and oaths. Devizes and Nutter dived for cover. Pearl fainted from the sonic blast of the Demon’s keening voice. The velocity of the sound dashed Magpie Jack against the wall, and he fell insensible to the floor.

  The Demon spun round, swung his gnarled fist and knocked Reverend Phullaposi clean off his feet.

  The Reverend fell back, his skull hit the wall with a sickening 'crack!' and for the second time that day he lay spark out.

  The athame, meanwhile, had flown from his hand and skittered off, bouncing across the floor towards Dave.

  Still smarting from the pulsating flesh wound in his back, Ahriman moved carefully out of the range of Lahabiel’s lance. His eyes still firmly fixed on the Angel, he snarled at Dave:

  “Pick up the blade and put it to use, David.”

  Ahriman pointed a sharp, scaly, reptilian claw at Ruby.

  “Despatch the witch and claim your prize, menial,” he goaded.

  Dave looked at the blade in his hand and moved towards Ruby, pointing it at her.

  Ruby remained firm.

  “Think hard David,” she warned. “Not just about the here and now, but about all the nows that you are about to throw away.”

  Dave said nothing; he just shuffled a little closer, levelling the blade.

  The tension was palpable. Dave edged closer and closer; Ruby did not waver.

  Finally, Dave made up his mind:

  “Ahhhhhh! Diiiiiiiiiiiiiiie!” screamed the possessed Postman, waving the blade in front of him as he rushed across the room. He hurtled past Ruby, pushing her bodily out of the way and leapt straight onto Ahriman, plunging the athame all the way up to the hilt in his breast.

  The Demon howled and lurched backwards at the very second the Angel’s lance thrust forward to meet him, piercing his evil black scaly hide. Skewered, Ahriman was pulled towards the Angel; screaming, spitting, fizzing and bubbling with pain and rage, his reptilian arms windmilling forlornly against the Angel’s stronger might and will.

  Flailing wildly, the Demon latched onto David, his nemesis, and clung on desperately. If he were to go back down again to the sulphurous, belching, fiery pit, then Dave was coming with him…

  The Angel dragged the pair towards him.

  He was starting to spin, and they spun as he did. Around and around they went, creating yet another vortex. Faster and faster they revolved, the light and sound ever increasing.

  While Nutter and Devizes cowered miserably on the floor, quaking, with their hands clasped tightly over their misshapen heads, Ruby stood with her arms high, deeply focused on her own incantations and protective rituals.

  The screams of Ahriman now melded with the voices of the celestial chorus and the ugly thrumming and drumming noises of before were beaten out to a universal, idyllic rhythm. The heartbeat of the universe.

  The chants of the Beni Elohim Choir of Angels rose higher in their harmony. Who could, or would wish to, resist them?

  More spin, more voice, more spin, more voice. Faster and faster, brighter and brighter.

  Ahriman’s wailings could no longer be heard; just the perfect sound of purity and cleanliness, of divine light and right.

  All the
noises mercurially melding into One; all the light sources melting into One; light and sound becoming One. Reveren Phullaposi chimed into the choir with his own offering of prayer.

  “Saint Michael, the Archangel, Defend us in our battle. Be the protection against the evil and trappings of the Devil. May The Almighty, rebuke and cast him away. And thou, most heavenly Prince of the Host, by the divine power of the Almighty, cast him back into the Hell pit, cast him and all his evil spirits, who now roam the earth seeking the ruination of the mortal soul. Amen.”

  One Sound, One Light, One Source; faster and faster, cleaner, and cleaner, purer and purer –

  Until...

  CRASH!

  One almighty peal of thunder.

  And then a sound like the last second of a recording in reverse.

  Fup! Gone!

  Silence. Utter Silence.

  So silent you could hear it. So silent that it hurt your ears.

  Darkness. Total Darkness.

  So dark that you have no idea where you are, where you were, or even which way up you might be.

  And for what seemed like hours, this is how things stayed.

  Until, finally the spell was broken.

  There was a sudden muffled bang and then a spatter or a crackle some small distance away, obviously not within the privy.

  Then Ruby heard voices. Quite a few voices, and not at all like those of the celestial variety. These were plainly human.

  “Ooooo! Aaaaah! Eeeeehh!”

  These weren’t frightened cries, but cries of innocent wonderment.

  Ruby shook her head to clear the cobwebs, groped around and found her athame. She tapped it on the wall and it dutifully obliged by glowing a little, dimly. Its powers had been severely tested.

  As the blade regained some of its former potency, Ruby’s surroundings gradually became apparent. She looked around her, thoughtfully.

  Tobias was sputtering and choking, as he clambered out of the cistern where he had thought it best to hide. (As he remarked later. “Cats may not be overly fond of water, but it’s infinitely better than having your cat-flap toasted by a demented demon on a power trip!”)

  Magpie Jack was recovering his dazed wits on the floor, whilst absently whistling a song about little pixies (bangs on the head tend to do these things to you). Pearl was sitting against a wall rubbing a bruised shoulder from when she had fallen awkwardly when she passed out during the fracas. Reverend Phullaposi was moaning faintly. He was kneeling on the floor, with his head down the lavatory bowl in a most undignified manner.

  Well, she was still in the privy, so that would suggest that she was still in Widdowshins.

  Devizes and Nutter, however, were nowhere to be seen.

  Dave was also noticeably absent.

  Ruby noticed the distinct aroma of ozone, sandalwood and lavender hanging in the air. Not unpleasant, but unexpected all the same. The celestial thunderclap of righteousness might from the angels must have cleared air.

  There were more audible crackles and collective ‘Oooos!’ coming through the thick stonework of the privy. And there was another scent. Was that... gunpowder? Cordite?

  Ruby dragged herself to the door and opened it. The heady, sweet, late summer air greeted her. She looked up, and saw a normal, beautiful, dark blue starry Spring night sky. She also saw that the village fête firework display was in full swing; everybody was thoroughly enjoying themselves and nothing was even remotely out of place. Everything was exactly as it should be.

  While Ruby was making sense of the scene in front of her, Reverend Phullaposi came unsteadily over to her side.

  “What happened? Have they gone? Is it over? Did we win?”

  His mind was still foggy, but not so foggy as he didn’t grasp the gravity of his questions.

  “They’ve gone,” nodded Ruby, “But for how long? Who knows?”

  The Reverend leaned against the door-jamb, still nursing his sore head. He breathed in, greedily, enjoying the sweetness of the night air.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Ruby suddenly registered something odd. In the very spot where Devizes and Nutter had been so busy panicking and cowering, there were now two small horse chestnuts and two small pieces of parchment. She glanced around quickly to see if anybody else had noticed, then, satisfied that no-one had, scooped them up and put them in her little drawstring bag.

  “What they don’t know won’t hurt them,” she thought to herself. She would inspect her discovery later, and deal with it accordingly.

  **********

  At that very moment, in a badly-constructed yurt in a muddy field in Glastonbury, Bethany Devizes awoke with a start. Her head was splitting, her stomach spasming, and her body shaking all over. Her initial thought was that she really shouldn't have eaten any of that lentil vindaloo they were selling at the food stall close by. But then she recognised the sensation for what it actually was: a psychic distress call of a most urgent nature.

  “Ohhh, Motherrrr! What have you done THIS time?!” she groaned to herself.

  Reluctantly, she began to pack her rucksack for home...

  **********

  The Reverend and Ruby went to attend to the others.

  Pearl was sure all that she needed was a cup of tea to put her back on the right track. Tobias just wanted Ruby to promise that if she ever, ever, EVER got any misdirected mail again she would either just ignore it or burn it. Cats, as he pointed out, are not designed for going toe to toe with Satan. It messes with the fur and plays havoc with their already highly strung senses. Magpie Jack was still more than a little worse for wear, having moved on from songs about pixies to one about a magic dragon who lived by the sea. Pearl said not to worry, however, as she had seen this a couple of times before and in a few days he’d be right as nine pence.

  Pearl's explanation, however, was cut short by a faint scratching and tap-tapping from the large upright gardener’s tool box stored in the privy. Reverend Phullaposi looked at Ruby and Pearl with a growing sense of alarm... Surely not... Not so soon?

  With great trepidation all three of them approached the box. They were firmly agreed that if it was something unnatural, then they would all stay and give it “a right good kicking.”

  The Reverend gripped the door. He nodded to Ruby and Pearl and they returned the signal. He mouthed to them

  “On three.”

  Silently he mouthed the words.

  “One... Two... Three.”

  On that count Reverend Phullaposi tore the door open, nearly ripping it off the rusty old hinges. Pearl and Ruby leapt into action at once, thrusting themselves into the box and pulling out whoever or whatever was in there making such a feeble noise.

  Out of the box and onto the floor, like a pile of old rags, much to everyone’s surprise tumbled Dave Hinchy. He was clearly in a state of severe shock and confusion. Shaking like a frightened kitten, he stammered.

  “Ahriman... He... No.. It... Well... I... I... I... But , simply awful... It was you know.. It really was.. Cold.. No.. Hot.. Both.. Would you believe that he...? He did you know..? He did... He did... He did...”

  **********

  For a short while, that was all they could get out of the poor wretch. He sat cross-legged on the grass outside the privy, tightly gripping Ruby’s hand, squeezing so hard he almost cut off the circulation, rocking himself gently back and forth, and muttering. “He did, he did, he did.”

  “Dey do, dough, don't dey, dough?” observed a familiar, wheezing, gravelly voice; affecting a truly abysmal attempt at a Scouse accent.

  It was Malcolm Oldthwaite. He stood a few feet away, holding a supermarket carrier bag full of books out to Ruby.

  “Got that reading material you were asking after. Sorry it took so long, but you know how it is...”

  Ruby gave a thin smile. “They might have been more use at an earlier juncture, but still... better late than never, Malcolm. Better late than never. No research is ever wasted.”

  “Right. Yeah...” Malcolm eyed Dave cauti
ously. “So, uh, what's his problem?”

  “Let's just say he wasn't exactly too cautious about what he wished for. Or who he wished it from, if you catch my meaning.”

  Malcolm studied the bedraggled condition of Ruby and her companions a moment, then sighed, gloomily, as her meaning dawned on him: “I missed it, didn't I? All the action?”

  “I'm afraid so. But most people would count themselves lucky for that.”

  “I'm not most people.”

  “No. You're not.” Now it was Ruby's turn to sigh. “Still, you're here now to help us clear everything up.”

  “Oh, whoop-de-do!”

  “Don't be like that, Malcolm Right now, I could really use your input. Tell me... what do you know, what have you read, about the effective treatment of shock?”

  “Physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, or Magickal?” Suddenly, the young bookseller was all business.

  “All of the above.”

  “Of course. Obviously. Stupid question. OK, shift yourself. Let the dog see the rabbit. We'll see what we can do, eh?...”

  **********

  Sometime later, when his composure had returned a little, and he realised that he was out of clear and present danger from Ahriman, Dave Hinchy confided in Ruby that from this moment on, and probably for the foreseeable future, he would find it nigh on impossible to go to sleep at night without a light being on in his room and somebody sitting by his bedside, holding his hand and singing soothing lullabies to him. Other than that, he seemed surprisingly physically unharmed by all of his recent traumatic experiences.

  “Only I – I seem to have got this twitch in my left eye, now. All the time. I can't seem to stop it. I'm afraid I'll never get rid of it!”

  “A small price to pay for the saving of your eternal soul, David. But if you don't mind, I should like to take a closer look, even so... Hm. There seems to be something on the fold of skin above the eyelid. A small, squiggly mark, like a tattoo, or... Hold still, let me see... Good... Lord...”

  The mark was no tattoo; it looked natural, somewhere between a burn and a mole. Ruby needed her pince-nez to make out what it was... Upon a closer inspection she discovered a series of ancient Hebrew letters, spelling out the name “Michael”.