Disenchanted

by Raven, C L

  "Supervise somewhere else."

  "You're doing it wrong." He flopped onto his side then rolled onto his back and writhed around before attacking the carpet. Every time I grabbed the corner, he'd slap my hand with his claws out. I gave in and went to the toilet. The door opened, hitting my back.

  "Hey! Can't I have thirty seconds?"

  "What if you fall in and drown? I'll be an orphan."

  "I can't fall in, I'm standing up."

  "You're such a friggin' smartarse."

  I left the toilet then finished pulling up the carpet and wrapped Pierre in it.

  "I've never disposed of a body."

  Mephistopheles trampled my brothers. "They should teach that at the local college instead of hairdressing."

  "You can't get arrested for hairdressing."

  "Some people should. Have you seen the godawful styles around? Murder's a more forgivable crime."

  I waited until dark before loading the carpets into the boot of Pierre's sports car. It was a tight squeeze. Mephistopheles insisted on coming and sat in the passenger seat in his wigwam bed. He directed me to woods and jumped out, his abnormally long tail leading the way. I should've attached a light to it. I opened the boot and slung Rob's carpet over my shoulder.

  The woods got darker the deeper we travelled. Rob became heavier with each laborious step. Night creatures rustled in the undergrowth, convincing me witnesses lurked within the shadowy confines of the trees. Mephistopheles stopped, his eyes glowing in the meagre moonlight. I collapsed under Rob's weight, landing on top of him. I freaked, scuttling away and trying to control my rapid breaths.

  "Here's a good spot," Mephistopheles said. "Now dig."

  "I can't."

  "He's not a piece of litter. If the council find him, they won't just slap you with a fly-tipping fine. Hurry up, he's making the place look like a crime scene. You don't want picnickers stumbling across him tomorrow. That'd really sour the cream."

  He inspected his boots for mud while I trudged to the car for the spade and Pierre. The woods closed in, the creepy trees whispering my heinous secret to each other. Mephistopheles sat on a fallen log while I dug the grave.

  Every noise I heard, I was convinced it was the police, or Rob and Pierre rising from the dead. I worked faster, my nerves shredded. When the hole was deep enough, Mephistopheles instructed me to put the bodies in without the carpets, so they couldn't be traced back to me. I unrolled the carpets and tipped my brothers in to the grave. They lay entangled in their eternal embrace. I tried closing their eyes, but they kept opening.

  "That only happens on TV," Mephistopheles informed me. "In real life you need stitches."

  I quickly covered them in mud, hating their accusing glares.

  I slung the carpets in the boot and slammed it.

  "What you doing?" I whirled around. A drunk man swayed, staring at my boot. "You're doing something."

  "We're designing NASA's space shuttle." Mephistopheles leapt off the roof, sending him crashing into the dirt. He scratched and bit the man, wrapping his tail around his throat. "Listen punk, we're minding our own business and I suggest you do the same. If anyone asks, you saw nothing. Got it?" The man nodded, terrified. Mephistopheles patted his face. "Good. Then we have an understanding."

  "What are you doing?" I hissed as the man hurried away.

  "Eliminating witnesses. I would've killed him, but you look like you're about to die from exhaustion. That's the trouble when only your arse has meat on it."

  "Sorry, if I'd known I'd spend the evening killing and burying my brothers, I might've started weight training."

  He waved his tail. "I forgive your lack of forward planning. Home James! I need a wash. I've got mud between my toes."

  "How? You didn't do any digging."

  He jumped into the passenger seat and spent the whole journey washing imaginary specks of mud off his fur and debating whether or not a pirate coat would look ridiculous.

  The country lanes were black and empty, the sports car slipping through them like a speeding bloodstain. I locked the doors, worried my brothers' corpses would stumble out of the hedgerows, their lifeless eyes hungry for my soul.

  I was relieved to reach the main road. It stretched before me, deserted but flanked by lights to banish the shadows of guilt.

  Pulsating blue lights in my interior mirror blinded me. A siren wailed briefly before being swiftly silenced.

  "I think he wants you to pull over." Mephistopheles checked the wing mirror. Cursing, I stopped, my heart thundering. This was it. "Thank god he didn't pull us over en route. Not even flashing some leg and batting your lashes would get you out of that mess." The police officer's footsteps marched along the tarmac. "Let me do the talking."

  "Oh yeah 'cos a talking cat isn't at all suspicious."

  He bit my hand. I swore and cradled it.

  The officer tapped my window. I jumped and lowered it.

  "Were you aware you were speeding?"

  "Were you aware your moustache makes you look like a seventies porn star?" Mephistopheles answered.

  "Mephistopheles!" I scolded.

  "What did I say about dropping me in it?" He bit my hand again.

  "Ow! I hardly think insulting him's going to get us out of this."

  "Who are you talking to?" The officer asked.

  "My cat." I turned. The passenger seat was empty.

  "Please step out of the vehicle."

  My heart racing, I opened the door and got out, expecting to be slammed over the bonnet and frisked in a way that wouldn't be at all enjoyable.

  The officer screamed as Mephistopheles leapt onto his back and scrammed his face. He flailed, trying to shake him off, but Mephistopheles hung on, biting and scratching like a demon. The officer hit the ground, Mephistopheles attached to his face.

  "You tell anyone you saw us and I'll chop you up so small, ants will carry the pieces back to their farm," Mephistopheles murmured into his ear. "Dude, quick, get the footage from the car." I stared at him. "He's probably got a dashboard camera. Don't leave any prints!"

  I ran to the car and opened the door with my sleeve over my hand. I grabbed the camera, yanking out the wires. By the time I returned to my car, the officer was face down and handcuffed.

  "Get in!" Mephistopheles called from the passenger seat.

  I dived in and sped off, tossing the camera into the passenger well.

  "Good work grasshopper. We sure showed him."

  "How can you operate handcuffs?"

  "I made him do it."

  "He'll remember my face, the car."

  "The car's registered to Pierre. And your face isn't that memorable. If I wasn't with you all the time, I'd forget what you looked like."

  "I'm not cut out for a life of crime."

  "It's temporary, until your acting career takes off."

  "What acting career?"

  "Precisely."

  I floored the accelerator, hoping to scare him into silence. He went to sleep. I stopped at an abandoned factory and carried the carpets inside the decaying building. Mephistopheles barked orders while I fetched packaging crates and paper to build a fire. When it ignited, I tossed the hall carpet onto the flames.

  The fire investigated the carpet before deciding it was combustible and devouring it with malicious glee, its burning body writhing with pleasure. I threw the stair carpet onto it.

  "Hey! What are you doing?"

  A torch blinded me. I shielded my eyes and ran. Mephistopheles shot past me and launched at the security guard's face. He shrieked as he fell.

  Mephistopheles released the man's cheek. "If you tell anyone you saw us, I'll hunt you down and chop you into bitesized chunks. Then I'll come for your family. Understood?"

  The man nodded. "Please don't kill me."

  "Keep your mouth shut and I won't have to."

  He jumped off the guard and gambolled out towards the car. I chased him, sat in and gunned the engine. I waited until we were a mile down the road before s
peaking.

  "You've got to stop threatening people!"

  "I'm sorry, I was under the impression you didn't want to go to jail. Or am I mistaken? I can go back and plant your wallet at the crime scene. Jail won't be so bad. You'll have a room, a TV, regular food and showers. You might even get yourself a nice boyfriend. The nights can be so lonely. You're clearly having no luck finding a girl in normal society."

  I gripped the wheel. "I don't want to go to jail. But do you have to be so vicious? And threatening his family?"

  "Threatening the family's more effective than threatening people personally."

  "Are there any other crimes you want me to commit or are we done for the night?"

  He purred. "We're done. This has been great. I never get to do any fun stuff."

  "Fun isn't the word I'd use to describe tonight."

  "You only see the bad in everything. You really should see someone about your gloom cookie attitude."

  I glared at him. I never thought I'd be pleased to see my house. I pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. I rested my head back and sighed. Mephistopheles put his paws on the door until I took the hint and got out. He leapt out after me and led the way to the house. He entered the kitchen and sat at the table.

  "Yo! Slave! I'm hungry!"

  I slouched into the kitchen and squeezed out half a pouch. He sniffed it, took a tentative bite then ate the food I'd put out earlier. I shook my head then made myself a drink and went to bed. A few minutes later, Mephistopheles jumped up and paraded up and down the bed before settling on my pillow, his tail draped over my face.

  An hour later, a claw poked my face. I batted it away and went back to sleep. Something bit my toes. I sat bolt upright and saw Mephistopheles with his front legs under my duvet.

  "I need a wee."

  "The window's open."

  "But I'm hungry."

  I growled, got out of bed and followed him downstairs. He stood by the back door and waited for me to open it.

  "Thought you were hungry."

  "I'm bursting."

  "The window's open."

  "I'm descended from gods - I'm not jumping out the window like a lowlife cat burglar." He strutted out, his tail waving.

  I slammed the door and went back to bed.

  ***

  Two days later, there was a knock at the door. I stumbled downstairs wearing only my trunks.

  "I'll handle this," Mephistopheles said, weaving between my legs and tripping me. I slid down the last three steps. Mephistopheles purred.

  I opened the door to find two officers on the doorstep.

  "Aidan Trent?" One of them asked.

  "Yes."

  "I'm DS Rochester, this is DC Bolton. We'd like to talk to you about your brothers."

  I numbly stood aside while they entered and went into the living room. Mephistopheles sat in the tall backed computer chair, glaring at them. One of the officers headed for the chair.

  "That's Mephistopheles' chair," I told him. "He won't be happy if you sit on him."

  "Who's Mephistopheles?"

  "My cat."

  He looked at the chair quizzically then sat somewhere else.

  "There's no way I want to be squished beneath that arse," Mephistopheles snorted as I sat on the floor in front of him. "I'd look like road kill."

  "Is that your brother Pierre's car, in the drive?" Rochester asked.

  "Yeah."

  "His colleagues contacted us when he didn't return to work after his lunch break two days ago."

  "He's on holiday," Mephistopheles said. "Smarming his way around the camp site."

  "Your older brother, Rob, is he around?"

  "They went together," I replied.

  "You didn't go with them?"

  "I don't like camping."

  "He just decided to leave for holiday on his lunch break?"

  "I rarely see Pierre, I don't know his holiday plans."

  "Your father's just died, is that right?" I nodded. "Rob got the house, Pierre got the car, what did you get?"

  "Screwed."

  "Oh yeah, that just screams 'innocence'," Mephistopheles muttered.

  "Ssh," I hissed. "I thought you were handling this."

  The officers exchanged glances.

  "I would if I could get a word in edgeways. Your mouth's chattering away like clockwork teeth. I bet you a fiver you wind up in a cell tonight."

  "I noticed your carpets are missing," Rochester said.

  "I'm redecorating. I hated those carpets."

  "Do you mind coming down to the station with us?" Bolton asked.

  "That bet was shortlived." Mephistopheles smirked.

  "What for?" I asked. "My brothers are camping in woods somewhere." Mephistopheles roared with laughter. I shushed him.

  "Two days ago, an officer stopped a car for speeding through country lanes about ten miles from here. When he asked the driver to leave his vehicle, he was attacked and left handcuffed on the side of the road. His description of the driver matches you. The camera was stolen from the squad car. We ran the plate he gave us - it was Pierre's car. Then we discovered Pierre's been missing for two days. Were you driving his car at the time of the incident?"

  "I'm not allowed to drive his precious car."

  "Then why is it here?"

  "Free parking."

  "A couple of miles from the incident with the police, a security guard reported a fire in an abandoned factory. There were traces of carpet at the scene. He said he was threatened by an intruder, who remarkably, also matches your description."

  "I have one of those faces."

  "Ah bollocks." Mephistopheles slapped me on the back. "I knew you'd be my downfall."

  "Your downfall? I wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for you."

  "Oh I'm sorry, let me remove my gun from your head, it's left a terrible dent in your hairline." He moved his paw back then smacked me on the head with his claws out.

  "Ow! Stop doing that!"

  "Is there a problem, Mr. Trent?" Rochester asked.

  "My cat just slapped me. It's nothing."

  Again, they shared a glance.

  "We're reopening the investigation into your father's death."

  "The coroner ruled it as accidental."

  "He fell down the stairs. You were the only one in the house."

  "If I'd wanted to kill him, why would I phone for an ambulance? Like you said, I got nothing in the will. Rob benefited the most."

  "We'll clear this up at the station."

  I rubbed my head as I got dressed and followed the officers out. Mephistopheles jumped in the back of the car before they shut the doors. He sat up tall and proud, insisting they put the siren on but they ignored him. Dread rose to choke me when we neared the police station. I knew the moment I stepped through those doors, my life was over.

  ***

  I sat on the hard bed in the small grey room in Castle View. There was a bedside cabinet but the rest of the room was barren.

  "Medicine time." The nurse smiled, entering the room and handing me a plastic cup with tablets in and a cup of water. I downed both then poked my tongue out. She checked my mouth and left.

  I waited until I heard her trolley stop at the next room then I hurried to the ensuite, scooped the tablets out from under my tongue and flushed them down the toilet. Two porters entered, one to change my bed, the other to make sure I didn't kill the first one.

  As they were leaving, I heard them whispering to each other.

  "He's the guy that claimed a talking cat coerced him into killing people."

  "Jesus didn't get the blame for this one then?" The other one answered.

  "Apparently the cat's a criminal genius. He had a whole pickpocket scam going which escalated into murder. CCTV caught Trent stealing a pirate hat and boots from a pet shop for him."

  I glared at their departing backs. They locked the door, their footsteps clumping down the corridor.

  "See what happens when you insist on talking for yoursel
f, dude?" Mephistopheles grunted, wriggling out from under the bed. He scanned the room, his tail flicking. "What a come down. I'm not staying here."

  "Thanks to you, I'm locked in the nuthouse for the next god knows how many years." I flopped onto the bed.

  "I warned you not to implicate me." He jumped onto my stomach and started kneading it. "Better here than prison. This place is easier to escape from. Wow, your organs are dangerously close to the surface."

  "Last time I listened to you, I went on a crime and killing spree and wound up in this wonderful establishment for the criminally insane."

  "If you'd listened properly, you wouldn't have been caught. You can't blame me for your failings, sunshine. Don't worry, I've got a plan. First, we escape. Then, I'm going to make you rich. All I need are my pirate hat and boots…"

  Disenchanted

  In the mountain's cavernous heart, goblins swarmed. Flames flickered in the claustrophobic corridors, eerie shadows writhing with pleasure along the rough walls. Inga, the Goblin Master watched the final touches being added to the magic mirror. He rubbed his scaly hands and cackled. It sounded like he was choking on marbles.

  "Take it to the angels," he called down. "Once they see their hideous reflections, they'll fall to their knees in despair and we can reclaim the kingdom they stole from us."

  The goblins cheered and stamped their warty webbed feet, their overgrown talons clicking on the stone floor.

  "Once the angels have fallen, we'll put the mirror in the town centre and tell the people it's magical. They'll be so desperate to gaze into it, they'll also fall prey to its evil power. Let them see themselves how they see us. For too long we've been despised, shunned and persecuted because our ideal of beauty won't win modelling contracts."

  The goblins laughed as they carried the mirror through the gloomy passages. The path was flanked by jagged jet walls, with stalactites poised above their heads like guillotine blades.

  They emerged into the snow and flew up to the Kingdom of the Angels. As they got closer, the mirror became weighed down by icicles that formed on its black frame. Their aching arms were nearly wrenched from their sockets. The mirror slipped from their calloused fingers and plummeted.

  The goblins flew after it, but the mirror struck the highest peak in Goblin's Pass, its body breaking on impact. The shards were captured by the bitter wind and rained down on the land, sparkling like a million fireflies when the sunlight captured them in its fierce glare. The goblins returned to the mountain.