by Mark Ayre
He turned as he stood, and Gina stabbed him in the stomach.
Twenty-One
In the black of night, once again, Trey heard the creak that signalled the opening of his bedroom door.
Once again, his thoughts first went to Vicious. Once again, this supposition was based on the fear Vicious had created with his beatings, rather than logic or reason. Vicious had never opened a door quietly. Perpetually angry and unafraid, Vicious burst into rooms. He wanted his target to know he was there before the work began. He liked the fear to build before he struck the first blow. Trey wondered if he knew that fear carried far beyond his beatings. Guessed he probably did.
Once logic felled fear, and Trey’s heart settled into the knowledge this wasn’t Vicious, and he needn’t expect another beating, at least not yet, Trey guessed his mother. When he flicked on his lamp, however, he saw Liz Norton; her hands on the back of his office chair, withdrawing it from beneath his little-used desk for somewhere to sit.
With the light, she froze, like a gargoyle turning to stone at sunrise. Trey thought again of Vicious. How angry his father must have been to learn of Trey’s lies. The beating should have followed. Trey could only assume Harvey’s excitement at gaining another chance of survival had, for the time being, overcome his need to punish. Trey was temporarily sidelined, rather than forgotten or forgiven.
Norton tried to sit and almost fell to the floor. With a dry chuckle, she placed a bag at her feet. Trey guessed that since her arrival, she hadn’t stopped drinking.
Not wanting to lie while she sat, lest it make him feel like a child beneath a mother preparing to read a bedtime story. Or in his case, a live-in nanny. Keeping the duvet wrapped around his body to conceal his naked torso and boxers, he put his back to the wall, facing Norton in the low light.
“Sorry to wake you,” she said. Alcohol prevented her voice from keeping quiet, turning it into a stage whisper. “It’s important we speak.”
Trey could not fathom why this would be. Then again, he had still not entirely worked out why Norton was involved in this Mercury recovery project. As far as Trey knew, she had no love for the unwilling host. Furthermore, he was surprised she knew about demons. Then again, he had fled before the deaths of the demons in Mercury’s mother and boyfriend. Had Norton arrived in time to be involved? It stood to reason that she had.
“I think you struggle with guilt,” said Norton. “I think it keeps you awake at night. Though I don’t know you well, I think you’re a nice boy driven to perform horrible acts in the name of earning respect from your family. True?”
Trey did not consider lying. Even if he had, she would have seen his fibs and confirmed her educated guesses.
Choosing honesty, he nodded.
With a sad headshake, Norton said, “I’m sorry to hear that. It’s not fair. Had you been born into another family, you could have been happy. Instead, you must live with the death of your siblings. Worse, the loss of good people. Fran, Dom, Ian, Laars, Perry. Jamie, a colleague of mine, was no good guy but he didn’t deserve his fate. All dead. You realise, don’t you, you are in some way responsible for each one?”
Each name listed dashed Trey’s hopes that Norton might have come to alleviate his guilt. Caught in his honesty, he nodded.
Some nights, taunted by the dead. Trey couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t known about Perry, Norton’s partner. Someone new for the carousel. For everything he’d done, he hated himself. When he lied to his father about the ritual’s success, it wasn’t because he feared his father trying to reignite the project. He couldn’t bear the thought of talking about what he’d done. He desired to suffer alone.
Before he could become mired in the darkness of guilt, he said, “Why are you here?”
“I know there’s good in you, as I’ve said,” Norton replied. “It’s easy to see. It’s not only the guilt and grief etched into your face. When Laars tried to kill Heidi, you were at his back.”
“He dragged me there,” said Trey. “I didn’t try to kill her.”
He could never have, not because he couldn’t bear to kill Mercury, but because he was too afraid of the repercussions. As it turned out, his fear was warranted. In retaliation, Heidi murdered Laars, and Trey had lived to flee. Then again, if he had helped Laars, rather than hanging back, would he have killed Heidi before Dom and Fran could be possessed? Before Jamie, Ian, Perry and Laars could die? Given how powerful Heidi was, it seemed unlikely. It wasn’t impossible, and Trey couldn’t pretend otherwise.
“Laars knew nothing of possession and demons until one rose before him and tainted his blood,” said Norton.
Trey didn’t see the relevance of this but nodded.
Norton went on, ”I bet, before you came with your siblings to perform the first ritual, you did loads of research. Diligent man that you are, I’d guess you carried on researching when your siblings, having what they needed to perform the ritual, stopped. Is that right?”
“Yes.”
Beth had believed she alone could research. As the leader, she needed involvement from neither of her brothers. Needing to impress, Trey had snuck books away and worked on his own time. Before they left to perform the first ritual, he knew ten times more than did his sister on the subject of demons.
Carl never read a word and knew nothing.
“In your research,” said Norton. “I think you found the concoction that could turn a normal blade into the only weapon that can easily kill a demon. I believe, when Laars suggested killing Mercury, you helped make that blade. You say you didn’t help, but without that, Laars never stood a chance.”
To this, Trey said nothing. His heart pounded with fear as though, if he confessed, Heidi might step from behind a door and murder him for insubordination. Although he hated her and had fled her service, at times, he struggled not to think of Heidi by that awful name. Master.
“Trey,” said Norton. “You have so far failed to alleviate your guilt. You believe you’ll be stuck with it for the rest of your life, and in some ways, you will. But there is something you can do to redress the balance. To start tipping those scales in your favour.”
Intoxicated by the idea of even a smidge of redemption, Trey leaned forward. His duvet slipped, revealing more of his skinny torso than he would usually allow.
“How?”
From the floor, Norton collected the bag. Rolling the office chair forward, she placed it on the bed before him.
“All things being well,” she said. “Within 24 hours, we will perform the spell that draws Heidi from Mercury and helps house her in Harvey Michaels.”
Removing the flap of the bag and placing his hand inside, Trey found something cold, sharp. Before he took the hilt and pulled it free, he knew what he was holding.
“When we perform this ritual, as it happens, you will be given the chance to, if not right your wrongs, at least begin to atone.”
The blade stank of peppermint and lavender. It was the demon killer.
“When we perform the ritual, you’re going to plunge that blade into your father’s chest.”
Norton patted his knee.
“You’re going to kill the demon.”
Twenty-Two
Time was of the essence. Mercury had no idea how long Leon would be out for and, although she had taken his mobile, he might have other means of communicating with his son.
Nevertheless, she sat in the car, thinking. What was her long-term plan? Save the girl was fine for now. Perhaps the girl’s father after that. Then what? She couldn’t stay awake the rest of her life. Sooner or later, she would succumb to sleep, Heidi would rise, and put her final plan into action.
Heidi’s master. A being more powerful than Mercury could imagine. Far more powerful than Heidi. As a beneficiary of much of Heidi’s power, Mercury struggled to believe there could be anyone with more.
But she did believe.
The squatter, who coiled in Mercury’s soul like a viper ready to strike, could not be allowed to realise her dream. Whate
ver happened, Mercury had to stop her.
There was only one way to achieve that goal.
First, the girl.
Unable to keep the thoughts from her mind, Mercury drove the short distance between Sammy’s house and the girl he had gone to collect.
Peppermint and lavender rose in her nostrils, though she knew she imagined both. When first she had learned of the demons, it seemed they could only be killed when dismembered by an army; chopped into tiny pieces and buried in holes over miles of land. Before achieving a satisfactory result, many men and women would die. Mercury would not feel comfortable sacrificing so many, even if she had the many available. Which she didn’t.
Peppermint and lavender. Mercury knew this scent was the offspring of a cocktail which probably included neither ingredient. When combined with a blade, it created the only weapon which could easily destroy a possessed host and the demon within.
Twice over, Mercury had seen this weapon in action. Both times, she had been on the other side of the blade, piercing the heart of the monster.
The strength for a third plunge, this time into her heart, Mercury did not think she could find. In any case, she didn’t have the blade with which to experiment.
One thing at a time.
A cul de sac. At its base, a circle of five large homes. Numbers 14 through 18. Between 15 and 16 a narrow alley led into darkness. Parking on the curb, Mercury stepped out and walked with purpose to house 17, her target.
Downstairs, the kitchen was well lit, and a lamp must have been on in the living room. Behind net curtains in the former, she could see movement. The living room seemed empty.
Upstairs, all rooms were dark.
Having already decided how she would handle this, Mercury knocked. A minute later, the door moved inwards, and a man in his early twenties greeted her with wide, worried eyes.
“Heidi.”
He seemed unsure what to say next. Unspeaking, she remained on the doorstep, eyes hard.
“Please,” he said, “come in.”
As he turned, she said, “Aren’t you supposed to ask me something?”
Horrified, he nodded like an idiot and said, “oh, man, sorry.” His face flushed. “How do you want it?”
“Any way you do, baby.”
Flushing deeper, he stumbled, almost tripping, and led her into the kitchen. Two mugs, both empty, sat atop a small wooden table around which were three neatly tucked chairs, one shoved wide in the young man’s eagerness to reach the door.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked, knocking another chair as he rushed to the cabinets. “Don’t live here, so I’m not sure where anything is, but I guess I can—”
“Where’s Samuel?” Mercury said.
“I told him not to,” said the young man. “Said you might not be happy.”
“Did I ask for your opinion?”
“No. Sorry, I—”
“Where’s Samuel?”
“Upstairs. He wanted time alone with the girl.”
The second half of this sentence, Mercury heard from the hall. Opposite the door through which she had entered, a set of stairs led to a darkened landing. Afraid for the girl, Mercury would have taken these two at a time if she hadn’t been in character. Heidi would be cool, calm. To rush could draw the suspicion of infected men above or below.
On the darkened landing, Mercury found five doors, all closed. A reminder of the house from which she had travelled here. Of the dead women she’d left to rot.
Under one door crept light. This room was at the back of the house, invisible to Mercury from the drive. As the other rooms were dark, she entered without knocking.
The room was twice the size of that in which she had slept during her childhood and teenage years. The walls covered in posters of boybands and photographs of adolescent girls. No members of either group were familiar.
In the corner of the room, a bed halfway between single and double held two occupants. Neither of whom was dead.
On her back, rake straight, a girl of twelve or thirteen lay with terror in her eyes and a hand over her mouth. It took all of Mercury’s restraint not to grab Sammy, the hand’s owner, and throw him through the window into the street.
In the short term, this proved unnecessary. When Mercury entered, Sammy looked up. A second of surprise at her arrival was followed by him removing his hand and straightening. Paralysed by fear, the girl responded to her mouth’s freedom by releasing a squeak but remaining still.
“Your idiot father almost screwed up,” said Mercury. “Did you not think there was a reason I asked you both to stay? If nothing else it was embarrassing asking two to come in, only for one to do so. My predictions, until that point, had been spot on.”
Alarmed by the ease with which she adopted Heidi’s words, Mercury tried not to tremble with disgust, or show horror in her eyes.
Recovering from his initial shock, Sammy started with, “how do you—”
“Any way you like it, baby,” she cut in. “I suppose I should at least commend you for always remembering to ask that.” She jerked a finger over her shoulder. “He forgot. I bet Leon did, too. Now answer my question.”
“Sorry,” was all he could say.
“Not an answer, sweetie. Will you be making a habit of ignoring my instructions? That would be disappointing.”
“No. No, never, never again. I am your most devoted, will always be your most devoted. My love for you—”
“Okay,” said Mercury, holding the palm of her hand to his face, praying he would stop. Throwing him from the window was still an option. Might not have been out of character for Heidi. “Go downstairs.”
“Yes, master,” he said, and turned to the girl. “Come on.”
“No,” Mercury barked. “Like her mother and soon father, she’s one of us. You’ve frightened her. Is that how we treat our own?”
He shook his head. Again said, “Sorry.”
“Go downstairs. We’ll be with you momentarily.”
Cowed, head bowed, Sammy swept from the room with his tail between his legs. Mercury listened; footsteps on the stairs. When she was sure he was in the kitchen, she closed the door and rushed to the bed, kneeling beside the trembling girl, resting a hand on her arm.
“Sweetie, what’s your name?”
The girl’s fear rendered her mute.
“They think I’m a bad person,” Mercury continued. “But I’m not. I’m going to protect you. We’re going to get out of here, but we must be careful. Sammy and the man downstairs are not good people.”
“Imran,” said the girl.
Somehow, the Asian boy’s name didn’t fit the white girl. For a second, Mercury was stumped.
“That’s the man downstairs,” said the girl. “Zainab and Yassin, his mum and dad, were supposed to be looking after me tonight because my dad had to go out.”
At the mention of her father, the girl’s head bowed. Seeing her worry, Mercury promised, “Once we get out of this, we’ll find your father and your mother. You’ll be back together, okay?”
The girl nodded. Mercury got the sense she didn’t entirely trust Mercury but needed to trust someone. For the time being, it would have to do.
“Do you know what happened to Imran’s parents?” Mercury asked.
The girl shook her head. “I went to get a drink a while after dad left, and they were gone. Imran was there. I don’t know him well, so I came back up. Then I heard Sammy arrive. When he came up, I was so frightened.”
“He won’t hurt you,” said Mercury. “I promise.”
Managing a small smile, the girl stood. Mercury noticed she was in pyjamas unsuitable for a chilly evening.
“Can you get dressed and meet me in the hall?” Mercury asked. “Then we’ll get you out of here.”
The girl nodded and added, “My name’s Edie.”
Smiling, Mercury turned, and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Realised she was asking the teen to dress when she was hardly ready for a dinner party.
&nb
sp; “What size is your mother?”
Five minutes later, Edie appeared in the hall in blue jeans and a thick, dark jumper, having dressed for both warmth and stealth. Her eschewing of fashion, regardless of circumstance, made her unlike any teenager with whom Mercury had been acquainted.
Edie’s mother, Gina, was a little larger than Mercury but not so you’d notice. The jeans she’d chosen were a tad loose. Importantly, they were tight enough that she didn’t have to worry they might fall down, should she have to flee a dangerous situation. The top was designed to be baggy anyway.
In the kitchen, Sammy and Imran flanked an older man.
The age difference and his race indicated he was likely Imran’s father, the vanishing babysitter: Yassin. Mercury worried about the absent Zainab’s fate.
Yassin’s presence presented Mercury with difficulties. Imran’s fear and the way he looked at Mercury had made it immediately clear how he fitted in, and how she should treat him. Yassin was calm, and in no way appeared reverential towards Mercury. This indicated he was either not infected, or had not been infected by Heidi.
If it was the former, he was either human, having been fooled by Sammy and Imran, or possessed. Another demon.
Human, infected, demon. Three options. In each case, she would treat him differently. Sammy and Imran would expect her to know.
Taking a punt, because a punt was all she had, Mercury said, “Do you want something? Edie’s mother requires my assistance. I’d hate to keep here waiting.”
A beat. Mercury tried not to show how tense she was, preparing to fight if fighting was required.
The older man nodded. “Sammy said. And, of course, I defer to you.”
“Fine,” said Mercury. “We’ll speak later.”
Grabbing Edie’s shoulder, she directed the girl out of the kitchen into the hall, aware the two men and the teenager were following.
They stepped into the hall as she threw open the door and found Leon over the threshold.
“She ain’t Heidi,” he said.
There was a moment of dead quiet. Then Yassin chuckled.