Soul Mayhem: Zed's Chronicles of the Parallel Universe Disruptions

by John Hindmarsh

  We soon were settled, and I drove along the road to find a place to turn; I planned to return to the highway even if it meant driving back through the village. I found an opportunity where a side lane led to a farmer’s gate and began my turn.

  The protests from the three girls were instant, loud, and full of fear. I looked at Dena. “Please ask your sisters to be quiet. You can tell me what the problem is.” I continued with the turn. The two girls behind me began to sob.

  “Sir, it’s horrible there. We’re running away, to save our lives. To save our souls.”

  I stopped the vehicle. There had been something very wrong in the village, focused on the old house. “Tell me more.”

  Her story was painful. The three girls had no parents and had lived with relatives for as long as they could remember. Two years ago, they had been taken to the old house by a very distant relative, someone they scarcely knew, and left there. The house, they claimed, was full of evil. An elderly man acted as cook and cleaner. The rooms on the top floor were occupied by an even older woman whom they rarely saw. At various times, they had overheard conversations, not just between the two people in the house, but with other people whom they never saw. To them, it was a haunted house. The day before, the man instructed Victoria to visit the old woman in her eyrie. Full of trepidation, Victoria had climbed the stairs and knocked on the old woman’s door. She entered as commanded. The old woman had a visitor, a younger woman, who leaked evil.

  The visitor examined Victoria in embarrassing detail. After an hour of questioning the visitor said to the old woman, “Yes, I think she’ll do. She’s young, full of fresh blood, and a virgin. We’ll have her on Saturday night—when it’s a full moon.”

  Victoria pulled away and ran back down the stairs where she recounted as much of the story as she could, between sobs. Dena decided to challenge the old woman and her visitor and headed up the stairs. When she entered the room, she froze, unable to move. She felt the visitor had cast a spell on her. She too, was subjected to examination and questions.

  “Oh, Gertryn, you are a marvel,” the visitor said. “You have two of them.”

  “Three,” Gertryn corrected her visitor.

  “What?” the woman shouted. “Three? You were hiding them from us.”

  “No. This one is for me. She’ll help me regain my youth. She is older, she has more strength, and her life force is exceptionally strong.” Gertryn laughed. “She’s my fountain of youth.”

  “Gertryn, you owe us. What makes you think you can keep this one from the coven?”

  The old woman changed shape at that point, taking on the appearance of a large bat. The spell freezing Dena faded, and she ran from the room and down the stairs, full of fear. Behind her, she could hear the laughter of the two, one a witch and the other possibly a vampire.

  The three girls plotted to run away. They’d left earlier in the morning with their few possessions. Dena at first hesitated then confessed. She had turned on the tap to the gas furnace in the basement, first ensuring the pilot light was out and would not refresh. At some stage through the day, she estimated, the kitchen would fill with gas. The stove would cause it to ignite and she hoped the resulting explosion would destroy the house and its evil occupants.

  I checked the details provided by the young girls; they were telling the truth. There were no evasions in their thoughts, no discrepancies, no dissembling. I was intrigued and concluded Dena was a determined and inventive young woman.

  “We’ll return through the village. You must close off this chapter in your lives, otherwise you’ll always be wondering what if the gas didn’t explode, what if they survived the explosion. I give you my undertaking, I’ll protect you, the three of you.”

  “Are you a mage?” Dena asked.

  “Why?”

  “Things happened when you arrived. His body was lighter, easier to move. The mud was firmer. Our clothes dried. You carried a far heavier man up to the road—I hardly helped.”

  “You are very observant. Yes, I’m a mage and remember, you have my word, I’ll take care of you all. Now, let’s get going.”

  The girls were ashen -faced with fear. I drove back along the road and twenty minutes later stopped on the edge of the village. All that was left of the old house were wisps of smoke and some charred beams. I checked. There were no survivors. The village now had an opportunity to recover, if enough people remained who could help it do so.

  “There, it’s destroyed. You never need fear this house or the people in it, ever again. Now, I think our stranger is recovering, so we’ll head to Londin.” I focused on each of the girls and infused enough positivity to reduce their concerns and fears to manageable levels. I continued through the village, keeping well to one side of the road when two fire engines roared past, heading, I suspected, to the burnt-out house.

  Leopold snored all the way to Londin.

  oOo

  Chapter 11

  Where do you commence a search in Londin for a nest of soul stealers? The first step was to send a message to every mage I knew, not only in the city, but also across the country. There could be leads anywhere. I asked them to check every possible rumor and provide details if they encountered anything relevant. On reflection, I suspected Smithfield Market here in Londin, famous for its ‘dead meat’ market and which has functioned since the Middle Ages, could be a place to explore. Soul stealer hatchlings were renowned for their ravenous appetites, and it was a possibility the nest had been placed nearby. There were other meat markets in Londin, of an entirely different nature, and I planned on starting that search in Soho.

  My first stop was the Members Bar in Guildhall where I had honorary membership; it was renowned for its source of gossip and was frequented by members of the market. I had contacts and might learn something by simply listening.

  The bar was crowded and noisy. I caught the eye of one of the bartenders and signaled for my usual beverage. No, I told you I don’t have a drink problem. The bartender, Robert Groves, was a budding mage and part of my network. He brought a coffee for me and a glass of water for Leopold to a small table we’d managed to inherit. I suspect Leopold’s stare caused the vacancy.

  Robert managed to make himself heard above the noise. “Wassup?”

  “You received my message about a nest of soul stealers?”

  “Yeah, got that. Cruel.”

  “Thought perhaps areas near Smithfield would provide a likely location. They’ll need a lot of meat when they hatch.”

  “Good one. There’s one or two of the butchers here tonight. I’ll get them to drift over to you. There’s other meat markets, remember.”

  “Yes. We’ll explore some of those, too.” I thanked Robert for the coffee and water, and he returned to his bar. Five minutes later a ruddy-hued man, overweight but well-muscled, sat at the third chair.

  “Name’s Smitty. Can I ‘elp ya?”

  “Zed.” I pointed. “This is Leopold. Can I get you a drink?”

  “Nah. Gotta get ‘ome or th’ strife’ll trouble me for th’ rest of th’ night.” He laughed at his own joke and we joined in.

  I said, “We’ve been told there’s something nasty breeding, possibly in the vicinity of the Market. They’re evil and deadly. They’ll want lots of meat for their first few weeks. Significant amounts. Possibly a couple of cows a day. So, if you’ve seen strangers around buying that quantity, we’d like to know.”

  He straightened and looked directly at me. “Hmm. What are you? A mage, like Robbie?”

  “Yes.”

  “Known ‘im since ‘e were a toddler. Good lad. Yeah, I gotcha. If I ‘ear anythin’ I’ll tell ‘im, like. I’ll tell me mates, never you mind. All right.” He stood, swayed back and forth for a few seconds and launched himself toward the exit.

  Over the next hour we had five or six similar experiences. The Market men were willing to help, knew Robbie, knew he was a junior mage, and didn’t like the thought of some kind of evil feeding off their business.


  The last one was on edge. He said, “Yeah, Robbie told me what ya want. Look, I’m not sure like, but a coupla trippers— they work casual like an’ it’s peak time—have disappeared. At least, they’ve not been seen for a day or two, an’ that’s not usual, if you get me drift?”

  “Do you have names, addresses?”

  “I can get ‘em tomorra’ about seven. Go to Landry’s an’ ask fer George. That’s me, like. I’ll look ‘em up.” He finished speaking, stood, and like his fellows, wobbled slightly and steered for the exit.

  “What do you think?” I asked Leopold.

  “Enough. Soho?”

  I nodded and stood. I caught Robert’s eye and signaled we were leaving. He waved his acknowledgment and bent back down to listen to his customer. We left.

  Soho was dark and dismal. A typical drizzle of rain dampened everything including the spirits of the locals. There was a small police shelter between Soho Gardens and the Krishna temple on Soho Street and we headed there. A young bobby was seated in the back enjoying his cup of tea and when I tapped on the counter his eyes flashed annoyance.

  I asked, “Is Sergeant Mowers on duty tonight?” His workmates called him Cutter. I’m not sure why, but I knew he sometimes carried a katana, which might account for the name. Some had said the original name was Grass Cutter, and the first part was quickly removed and forgotten; Mowers was a very large and physically fit man.

  “Who’s askin?”

  “Zed. He’s a friend.” I drew a quick sigil and he sat up as though he’d received an electric shock. Which he had.

  “Fuck.” He wiped at the tea he’d spilled on his uniform. “You’re that bloody mage, ain’t you?”

  “Could be. Is he on duty?”

  “Yair. He’ll be back in abou’ ten. Wanna wait? There’s chairs.” He waved his hand in the general direction of a row of visitors’ chairs.

  “Yes. Thanks.” We both sat. Ten minutes would pass quickly enough.

  Leopold zenned out. He could relax anywhere. I counted the fly marks on the wall, and when I finished I did it again in case I missed one. No, same number. I decided to stand and read the unofficial notices pinned to the official notice board. Dogs missing. Large reward for a missing moggy. The hairs on the back of my neck tightened. I read the next two notices again, this time more carefully. Daffney missing, last seen two days ago. Jin Jin missing, also two days ago. Apparently, the behavior patterns of these two ladies didn’t include impromptu vacations. Their friends were worried. Rewards were available. I tore off one each of the strips with telephone numbers and stuffed them in my pocket. I checked further but nothing else caught my attention. I was about to comment to Leopold when the door swung open and a uniformed police sergeant walked in, brushing the damp from his head.

  He looked up. “Zed. What the fuck are you doing out on a night like this?”

  “Waiting for you, of course.”

  “Huh. Let me get a cuppa. Do you want one?”

  “No, thanks. Too much coffee already.”

  The sergeant busied himself and soon had a mug of steaming tea warming his hands. He said, “Come on in and sit somewhere. There’s chairs.”

  I pushed through the waist -high swing door and wove my way to the sergeant’s desk. Leopold followed. I sat in a chair next to the sergeant and my companion leaned on an adjacent desk. I gave Mowers a brief outline of our search and when I finished, he made notes on his pad.

  “Fuck, so that’s what’s happening. There are notices up there,” he indicated the notice board, “about two of the local working girls gone missing, and an hour ago I was informed of another one. This is an unusual pattern even for here, and I’ll have to report them in tonight to the station proper. Do you want me to include these details?”

  “Make it a separate note. Keep your inspector informed and tell him I’m interested.”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll let you know if there’s any more.”

  “Do you have their working locations? Is there a pattern that would help us locate the nest?”

  “I’m certain the inspector will want detailed interviews done tomorrow. If we find a pattern, I’ll share it with you.”

  “Thanks. We might visit the friends of the two girls. I got their phone numbers.”

  “Tell them to check with me if they have concerns about you.”

  “Good. We’ll leave you to enjoy your cuppa. Talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Sure, sure.” The sergeant was leafing through papers on his desk. He looked up. “There’s a fourth. Fuck. I’ll have to report to Jonesie now. Have a good one.”

  I called the first number from the notice board and it went to voice mail. I left a message, mentioned the sergeant and asked if the friend could return my call. The second call was answered promptly. I said, “I’m calling about your missing friend Jin Jin. No, I don’t know where she is. I’d like to help and need to ask you some questions. No, not now. In person. Give Sergeant Mowers a call—he said he’d be happy to—yes, I’ve known him for years. My name’s Zed, yes, just like the letter, Zed Smith. Will you call me after you check with the sergeant? You have his number? Good. Bye.”

  I said to Leopold, “She’s in a state. Very worried about her friend. Well, I think we’ve started the ball rolling. We’ll head home. We’ll have an early start tomorrow, and I should check how Dena managed with the reading lesson.” I looked down at him. “Your turn later. Be good.”

  Leopold grunted. It was his equivalent of a guffaw. I signaled a taxi and we headed home.

  oOo

  Chapter 12

  Later, I checked with Dena; Hurian had attended on time and after an hour of working through a reading primer designed for three-year-olds, she was exhausted. I pointed out she had Leopold next, and she contacted Morwen.

  After explaining her mission to her sister, she added, “You’re my PA, remember.”

  The protest was loud.

  I backed away, not wishing to arbitrate the discussion, and decided to check if there were relevant messages from my mage network. Nothing. I needed more boots on the ground, so to speak. I went to the kitchen to consult with Angel. She was cleaning the kitchen, probably for the third or fourth time this evening. We’d all eaten earlier, and she should have been relaxing.

  I pointed that out to her.

  Angel said, “I like to keep my kitchen clean. Sir Zed, what can I get for you? Coffee?”

  “No, no. Nothing, thanks. I have a question. Are there many pixies in Londin without work, without shelter?”

  She was somewhat bewildered. “Pixies everywhere. Some well-trained and can drive a car, like our chauffeur. Others not so educated. Yes, some out of work. Good boys, you know. Just not ready to work, or without skills. Does that help?”

  “Could I get some to work for me for a week or ten days? Perhaps twenty or more? They don’t need skills, if they are reliable and honest. There could be some danger, although not likely if they’re cautious.”

  “Work is legal?”

  “What? Oh, yes, absolutely. I want them to look for something.” I wondered how I could explain without creating a panicked Angel.

  “Good. Yes, I can tell my friends. We could get you perhaps fifty, to start tomorrow morning. Young men, honest, reliable. I can cook them breakfast; the offer of a free meal would attract them.”

  “What, for fifty pixies? Far too much work for you.”

  “Easy. Big pots, fire, some food from the pantry. Tea, coffee. It will work, I show you.” She was a determined pixie.

  I wondered for a moment what I had started. I shrugged. “How much should I offer for each day?”

  She mentioned an amount and I thought it was far too low. “No, we can pay double. So, you will tell your friends. I want fifty pixies, as you said, young, fit, honest, reliable, ready to start tomorrow morning. They need to have some seniors who can supervise and who speak English. My Pixish is very poor, and you’ll be far too busy with breakfast.”

  We agreed on the terms. I sa
id I would add a bonus for her efforts, and she seemed pleased with the result. I headed off to bed, checking that Dena and Leopold—or Morwen and Leopold—had completed their reading lesson.

  Dena woke me early the next morning. She shouted from outside my door, “Zed, are you decent? There’re hundreds of pixies waiting outside our front gate. Angel said they were here for you and for breakfast.”

  I laughed. “Yes, I’m decent. Come in.”

  Dena was also in her robe. I had to force my eyes away. “I heard noises earlier and checked. There’s hundreds of them Angel’s enjoying herself,” she said. “She has four cooks and half a dozen helpers in the kitchen, and they’re cooking up a storm. I arranged an urgent delivery of dozens of eggs, boxes of bacon, and dozens of loaves of bread for toast. Plus, more coffee, tea, and milk. What are you up to?”

  I laughed again. “Angel and I had a discussion last night. I want to employ twenty or so pixies to do some city scouting for me, to help with our search for the soul stealer nest. She said she would organize a turnout of some unemployed pixies and give them breakfast. I didn’t expect hundreds.”

  “Get dressed and see for yourself. I’ll be with you in twenty minutes, downstairs.” She left me standing. I wondered if her new authority was having an impact and chuckled to myself.

  I was downstairs in eighteen and a half minutes, waiting at the front door. Leopold was at the gates, preparing to open them. He apparently had set down some rules for the waiting pixies; he didn’t want the lawn to be disturbed, the flowers trampled, or food thrown around. There was a continuing flow of paper plates loaded with food originating from the kitchen and heading out the gate, pixie to pixie. Empty plates were returning via the same network. Dena joined me after a couple of minutes. I looked at my watch and said, “You’re late.”

  She smiled and wrapped her arm around me. She kissed my cheek. “But worth waiting for.”

  I had no answer. “I’d better check how many visitors we have.”