Count to Ten

by Mark Ayre

  “I made a mistake, Will,” said Yassin. “I wasn’t paying enough attention and that woman,” he pointed at Mercury, “Heidi. She took Edie. Will, she’s dangerous. You and Edie need to get to me, fast.”

  When Will hesitated, Yassin continued, “She killed Zainab.”

  This news rocked Will. With a pale hand, he gripped his daughter's arm, but didn’t move. Shock prevented him. Yassin had misjudged.

  Calmly, Mercury said, “He’s lying. I never saw Zainab. When I reached your place, neither she nor Yassin were there. Only Imran and a teen called Sammy. I went to free your daughter.”

  “It’s true,” said Edie. “After you left, Yassin disappeared. I didn’t see what happened to Zainab, but then Imran was there, and Sammy. He came into my room, and he put his hand on my mouth. but Mercury came to—”

  “Sweetie,” said Yassin, shaking his head. “Heidi sent Sammy to unnerve you. Leon,” he pointed at Sammy’s father, “learned she had corrupted his son and came looking. He found Imran and me and we tried to stop Heidi taking you. I’m sorry, Will, you put me in charge of what’s most precious to you, and I failed. Heidi makes people think she’s a God. Makes people follow her. Come here. We need to escape. Whatever game she’s playing, letting you live, it won’t last.”

  “No, dad,” said Edie. “He’s lying. That isn’t Yassin. He lifted our car in the air and—”

  It was the worst thing she could have said. With every word she helped Will believe Heidi had bewitched her. Although it was conclusive, if you knew enough, the non-acidic blood would now mean nothing.

  Will tugged Edie towards Yassin, cutting into her words.

  Having allowed Yassin’s appearance and lies to stump her, Mercury’s silence angered her. Regaining her senses, she realised she had to stop Will and Edie reaching Yassin.

  Yassin expected her to try and talk Will around. He smiled at the thought.

  Instead, she burst forward. Moving with a speed no human could match she was on Will in a second, in front of him. When he tried to duck, she floored him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I risked a great deal to save your daughter. I won’t let you throw away her life.”

  “You’re a monster,” he hissed. “What you did to my wife—”

  “What did I do?” she asked, on a hunch. “Have you spoken to her? Did she tell you what happened?”

  “She believes you’re a God.”

  “She’s infected,” said Mercury. “I’m sorry, but that means she must have slept with someone other than you.”

  Will’s face told her his wife had already confessed. What else had she said?

  Trying not to meet Edie’s eye, she said, “Will, is you wife gay or bi-sexual?”

  “What?” He was white with rage. Mercury was taking a considerable risk.

  “She slept with another man, didn’t she?” Mercury pushed. “Will, she slept with Yassin.”

  Shocked and shaken by the comments about her mother, Mercury thought Edie would remain silent, processing.

  The teenager shocked her by saying, “Daddy, look at him. That’s not Yassin. It doesn’t make sense, but it isn’t. He tried to kill Mercury and me.”

  Dragging himself to his feet, Will looked past Mercury to Yassin, then at his daughter. Saw her wide, imploring eyes, looked right into them.

  “Since she was infected, changed,” said Mercury, “did you look into your wife’s eyes?”

  Will didn’t respond, kept looking at his daughter. Mercury knew he was listening. Could almost see him remembering his wife’s eyes.

  “If your daughter was no longer your daughter, you would know. Forgetting the blood, if you looked into her eyes, you would know, and I think you know you would.”

  As though he didn’t want to know, Will tore his eyes from his daughter and looked instead for Yassin.

  “Why weren’t you with my daughter?” he asked. “How did this teenager, Sammy, and then Heidi get in? If Zainab is dead, why aren’t you?”

  Yassin smiled, chuckled. “Come now, Will. I’m here to help.”

  Mercury knew it was over before Yassin did.

  “My friend,” said Will, “would never smile and laugh like that at my concerns. Not about my daughter.” He looked as though he might cry. “You aren’t him.”

  There was a long period of silence. Yassin looked to Mercury, considering whether there might be a chance to reignite the lie, get Will on side.

  Realising there wasn’t, sighing, he said, “Fine,” and raised his hands.

  In slick silence, Imran punched the woman, grabbed her baby and shoved her into the dirt.

  With grim determination, Leon took a kitchen knife and slit the bleeding man’s throat.

  With a satisfied smile, Yassin said, “What’s that human expression? There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

  Twenty-Eight

  Liz followed her and Trey’s patricidal conversation by returning to her room and finishing her stash of vodka.

  Could Trey be trusted to do what was right, when the time was right? Even knowing what he knew about possession, could he plunge the knife into his father’s heart when the ritual was complete? Would he not instead try to forewarn his father of Liz’s ill intentions?

  Little vodka remained; gone in a couple of swigs. Stripping to her underwear, Liz climbed into bed.

  Trey might screw up, or back out when the time came. He wouldn’t tell his father of the plan. It was clear they had no kind of relationship. More chance the boy would tell his mother. Even that was unlikely. Not worth worrying over.

  Content she had until the ritual to convince Trey to do as she wished, if convincing was needed, Liz drifted.

  An hour later, she awoke from a fitful sleep awash with nightmares. The only quality to recommend a nightmare is how fast it fades.

  Liz got out of bed, and the bad dream followed. She dressed, although it was too early to rise. Even when fully alert, the nightmare clung. In horrible detail, she watched her partner, Tom Perry, die in the woods. Observed the demon identifying as Hera, in the body of Mercury’s mother, murder him.

  Nightmares built from memories didn’t fade. If you were lucky, they receded with the rising sun. If you were Liz Norton, they repeated throughout the day, decaying with each pint or shot or glass drunk; renewed with the next cycle of sleep.

  Her room was bare of alcohol. Despite Harvey’s immense wealth, he refused to pay a suited servant to stand at his guest’s doors, ready to fulfil, at a moment’s notice, any request. There wasn’t even a minibar.

  Shaking, her hangover snuck in as the forerunners of an army creep over the walls of the enemy castle in the dead of night.

  Without a drink, she would never find sleep. In the grips of sobriety, her memories would grow stronger, more menacing. Tom didn’t deserve to keep dying.

  From her room, she exited into an impossibly long corridor. At first, she felt sure she alone was awake. All else appeared to be silent.

  All the lights were off. Despite this, the modern mansion had plenty of windows and glass-panelled walls. The fat moon loomed overhead, lighting the house’s interior, showing the way.

  Gaining strength, the hangover tapped her brain, not only demanding entry but prompting further memories. After Perry’s death, in a hospital room, she had awaited Amira’s recovery. The gunshot wound which her doctors had so recently closed had reopened in the clearing where Perry had died. Lucky for the second time, Amira had recovered. When she did, bleary eyes found Liz, searched for someone else.

  “Mercury?”

  Understanding her best friend’s bravery and conviction, Amira knew what Mercury would have asked of Liz. To put a knife through her chest, thus killing the demon Heidi. Amira forced Liz to confess that Heidi had taken over before Liz could fulfil this deed. The beast had escaped.

  “Good,” Amira had said.

  Together, they had formulated their new plan. Heidi would die, but Mercury would live.

  It was all coming toget
her. Amira was already in the town in which Heidi had chosen to take refuge. Before the sun rose, Liz would lead Harvey’s retinue to join her. Within 24 hours, Mercury would be demon free or, more likely, they would all be dead.

  A risk worth taking.

  Footsteps. Liz had taken two turns since leaving her room and had no idea where she was going. Before long, she wouldn’t be able to find her room. Footsteps meant people meant, probably, servants. Servants meant alcohol and alcohol meant sleep. A few more hours, and it would all be over.

  The maybe servants led her through two more turns and a large hall at the end of which a set of double doors led into an even larger room. Through glass panels in the door, Liz saw steel walls and large equipment. Hanging pans indicated a commercial kitchen.

  At the door, Liz heard voices. The location had seemed to confirm she had followed servants. At the voice, her surety unravelled.

  Tilting, she made out the room’s far wall. A row of silver appliances and surfaces; a set of hobs, whereupon sat a colossal silver pot. Before it, looking in, was Victor.

  Had Liz been unable to see or hear him talking to someone, she still would not have believed he had come to make himself a midnight snack. Victor struck Liz as someone who existed purely to cause pain, end lives; possibly to give his boss the occasional backrub. In her two-plus decades in the force, Liz had met many such men. Loyal to the point of fanaticism; enjoys violence rather than long walks on the beach.

  Liz could see Victor talking but not to whom. Regardless, she knew who lay at his feet.

  When Victor put a hand on either side of the pot, Liz opened one of the double doors and stepped inside.

  “Need a hand?”

  Carrying neither plan nor weapon, Liz Swooped to an open cupboard beneath a cabinet and grabbed two bowls.

  “If we find a ladle we won’t have to pour,” she continued. “Can just scoop a serving into each bowl. You don’t mind sharing, do you?”

  Victor had released the pot. Not, she figured, because her idea enchanted him.

  Another step brought Trey into view. Liz did a fake double-take worthy of a professional comedic actor.

  “Trey, I didn’t know you were here. That’ll be three for soup then, will it? Luckily, Victor seems to have made enough for 400.”

  “Leave,” said Victor. There was murder in his eyes, but Liz was not unnerved. Whether ending your life, taking you on a date or saying, Happy birthday, mummy, men like Victor always had murder in their eyes. Any kindness they reserved for their lords and masters.

  “Don’t want to,” said Liz. “And you don’t want to push me around. As a semi-functioning alcoholic, I get cranky after too long without a drink. It’s been too long.”

  Victor’s unwelcoming anger did not abate. Liz smiled. Much as this brute might want to kill her, he would not. She held the key to his continued employment.

  “I’m not here to ruin your morning,” said Liz. “Once I’ve quenched my thirst, I’ll leave you to wine and dine Trey, as I’m sure is your intention.”

  Trey said nothing. Head bowed, he seemed unwilling to contribute. She had no idea if he believed she was going to leave him to die.

  Because Victor thought all people were monsters, he pointed towards the opposite end of the room. More double doors leading into what appeared to be a function room.

  “Bar through there,” he said. “Take what you want.”

  “Thank you.”

  The kitchen comprised several aisles, split by cabinets, cookers, dishwashers and more. Liz was close enough to the furthest left aisle, occupied by Victor and Trey, that it wasn’t completely ridiculous to use it to reach the opposite end of the kitchen.

  Victor had expected her to backtrack and take the next aisle. At her approach, he tensed. His eyes flicked to the block of knives. His hands flexed. Over his years with Harvey, more than one person would have tried to kill him. Carelessness had not kept him alive.

  Liz had never killed anyone. As a police detective, she had believed in justice. Awareness of demons and their infected devotees had challenged this belief set, but only for those beings. Victor was human. For him, prison was still an excellent fit.

  Tom Perry, she remembered, had also believed in justice. As had his father, a cop before Tom.

  When Tom had rushed to the prone body of Fran Willis, Mercury’s mother, he had done everything right. Having been shot four times, once in the eye, once in the heart, he had confirmed her dead.

  In defiance of this proclamation, Hera, the demon in Fran, had crushed Tom’s skull between her palms.

  The resulting mess she had wiped on her dress.

  Victor was planning to throw the boiling water in the pot over Trey.

  The pain would be unimaginable.

  How many others had Victor murdered, in how many horrifying ways?

  Humans could be Demons too.

  “Liz, Liz.”

  Liz turned to Trey. On shaking legs, the young man stood and stumbled down the aisle, and was sick. As Liz had been sick following Hera’s murder of her partner.

  Boiling water touched her fingertip. She yelled.

  Escaping the rabbit hole of her memories, Liz yanked her hands from Victor’s shoulder and the back of his head.

  For a few seconds, he remained submerged.

  In slow motion, he slid. Despite the pot’s weight, it came with him, together they slipped, tumbled over the edge, crashed to the floor.

  Instinct had Liz hop onto the counter.

  As though it were a movie monster, the boiling water slid along the floor towards Trey. When he scrambled down the aisle, Liz wasn’t sure if he was fleeing the pool or the body.

  Or her.

  At the end of the aisle, he slammed against the wall. When he had tormented himself enough looking at the body, he turned to Liz; their eyes met.

  “So,” she said, trying not to disappear into a breakdown. “Victor mentioned a bar?”

  Twenty-Nine

  The bleeding man went silent, still; the mother began screaming, flailing. As her baby began to bawl, she jumped to her feet and ran at Imran, desperate to save her girl.

  Leon moved fast. Having killed the bleeder, he was free to get between mother and kidnapper. A sharp punch put her to the ground. Immediately she began to rise. Yassin spun.

  “Move and Imran breaks your daughter’s neck.”

  Mercury approached Imran and the baby while Will started for the mother as she crumpled, her screams becoming sobs.

  “Kayla,” Will called, but Yassin spoke over them.

  “Everybody stop,” he said. “Next person who moves without my permission will have the honour of being able to say they caused a baby’s death. Please, can we talk?”

  Everyone fell still. Kayla sobbed, but the other adults were silent. Xyla, oblivious to the danger but desperate to return to her mother continued to scream and squirm. Imran appeared to be regretting taking this particular job.

  Speaking over the baby, Mercury asked of Yassin, “What do you want?”

  “I knew you could be reasonable, and my request is simple,” said Yassin. “Approach. Allow me to knock you unconscious. Once you have passed out, Imran will reunite Kayla with her baby. Along with Will and Edie, she can wander off on whatever paths life has in store for her. What do you say?”

  “Yes,” said Kayla. “Whatever you want. Please, just give me back my Xyla.”

  Furiously, Xyla kicked her captor. Outstretched arm’s reached for her mother, though Leon remained in the way.

  Confused, Will asked, “Why would you want to knock her out?” He turned to Mercury. “He means to kill you.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” said Mercury. “That Heidi who you so revile lives within me. Right now, I’m in control. Should I fall asleep or unconscious, she’ll take my body. As I understand it, this will be the last time I get the driving seat.”

  “Indeed,” said Yassin. “Were it me, I would skip off and enjoy a few hours of freedom. We both know that’s n
ot you. Your fate is inevitable. Even if it weren’t, you’d surrender to save the baby.”

  A house and a half’s width separated Mercury from Yassin. To save baby Xyla, Mercury would need to cross that space, get past Yassin, take down Leon and Imran all before Imran could kill the baby.

  No chance.

  Yassin said, “So, are you coming?”

  Cooperation was Mercury’s only hope.

  She said, “No.”

  Stunned silence filled the street, broken when Kayla screamed. Though he was as shocked as the miserable mother, Yassin smiled, rather than collapsed into despair.

  “Then I’ll kill the baby.”

  “You do that,” said Mercury, “I’ll walk away forever.”

  “If you won’t cooperate, what difference does it make?”

  “I will cooperate,” said Mercury. “But I won’t be stupid.” She turned to the grieving mother. “Kayla, I know this is hard. I know you want me to do as he asks, but please understand; the moment I’m unconscious, if we do things his way, he’ll kill you and your daughter.”

  Kayla let out a long, low moan.

  “I know,” said Mercury. “But it’s okay. I propose an alternative.”

  “What’s that?” said Yassin.

  Turning, Mercury pointed at the car and looked at Will. “Keys are in the ignition. Open a back door then get in the front with Edie. Turn 180 so you’re facing away from us, and wait.”

  Will looked at Mercury, then to Kayla, then Yassin. Without confirmation that Xyla would be safe, he wouldn’t move.

  Amused by Mercury’s manoeuvres, Yassin nodded, giving a regal wave, allowing Will to proceed.

  Quickly, silently, without fuss, Will and Edie followed Mercury’s instructions. When the car was pointing away from the group, the back door open, Yassin offered a hand.

  “Happy now? Will you come?”

  Mercury wanted to ignore him; continue her demands, but she had to play it carefully. Yassin knew Mercury had the strength to match his and desired to avoid a battle for fear of losing her again. Mercury was counting on him doing as she asked for an easy life.