The Devil Inside

by Heather Atkinson

  Serge collected their plates, giving Brodie an excited wink before scurrying away.

  “Wow, he really likes you,” grinned Cass.

  “At least someone in Edinburgh does.”

  Serge returned with the dessert menus before leaving them to it, not wanting to get in the way of Brodie’s big moment.

  Brodie’s hand closed around the ring box again, his mind frantically going over his speech.

  “He’s back,” said Cass.

  “Eh? Who?”

  He turned in his seat to see the leviathan returning to his table, shirt slightly dishevelled, his proud wife smiling up at him. He pecked her on the lips before retaking his seat with a satisfied sigh and tucking into his cold dinner with gusto. No bats followed him in, so it seemed he’d warded them off. Brodie would have liked to shake his hand.

  He turned back to face Cass, the hand holding the ring box sweating.

  “Sure you’re okay?” said Cass. “You’ve gone really red and you look…hot. You don’t think there was something wrong with your chicken, do you?”

  “No, I’m fine hen.” Taking a deep breath he reached across the table and took her hand. “You know I love you.”

  “I do,” she smiled. “And I love you too.”

  He never tired of hearing those words and raised her hand to his lips to kiss it.

  “Well, things are going really well between us, aren’t they?” he continued.

  “I’d say so.”

  “I know it’s no’ an easy job being my girlfriend but we get on so well. I’ve not driven you demented.”

  “Yet,” she said with a mischievous grin.

  “Yet,” he grinned back. He paused to clear his throat as his nerves tightened their stranglehold on him.

  She pressed her hand to his forehead. “You’re really hot. Are you sure your food was okay?”

  Great, now she thought he was about to fall ill with a case of screaming diarrhoea. “I’m fine, honestly hen. I just want to say that…”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “I’ve not said anything yet.”

  “I mean look who just walked in.”

  Brodie glanced over his shoulder and sighed to see Malachi being greeted at the door by the fawning Maitre d’.

  “Oh that’s just fucking perfect,” he mumbled, releasing Cass’s hand.

  Malachi was escorted to a table for four, even though he only had one guest with him, which happened to be Eve. Neither of them sported the usual bat outfits, although they were both wearing black - Malachi a smart and very expensive suit and Eve a long satin dress, her expression cold and haughty. Her green eyes scanned the room, taking everything in. Those eyes settled on them and filled with malice.

  “She looks a real bitch,” commented Cass.

  “Aye she does,” replied Brodie. “I can just see her getting her kicks doling out some adjustment therapy.”

  They watched as Eve and Malachi took their places at the table, the smile the latter gave Brodie curling his hands into fists.

  “He’s making it clear he can find us whenever he likes,” said Cass.

  “Aye, the prick’s got contacts. But he’s no’ the only one.”

  He watched Malachi say something to the Maitre d’, who pranced over to their table. “Monsieur Malachi wondered if you would both care to join him and his lady friend?”

  Brodie frowned up at him. “How come you wouldn’t let his wee bat pals in but you let him in?”

  The confused man looked to Cass for a translation. “Excuse me?”

  “You know who he is?” she explained. “Malachi of Higher Light?”

  “Oui Madam.”

  “My friend is asking why you let him in but not his followers.”

  “Because of the dress code. Evening wear only. It cannot be broken for any reason.”

  “Are you a bat?” demanded Brodie.

  Once again the Maitre d’ looked to Cass to explain. “Please?”

  “Are you a member of Higher Light?”

  “No Madam, not at all. I am strongly Catholic. My mother would be furious if she knew I…”

  “But you bow down to that prick,” said Brodie.

  “He says you are very polite to Malachi,” said Cass when Francois once again required an explanation.

  “I am polite to all our guests Madam.”

  “How come he’s got a bigger table than us?” said Brodie.

  For once, no translation was required. “Monsieur Malachi always demands the best table and that is the best.”

  “Let me guess, he pays a lot of cash for it too?”

  The Maitre d’ blushed. “He is very generous, oui.”

  “Well you can tell that generous prick we wouldn’t eat with him and his iceberg of a girlfriend if we were starving and he had the last rolo. Capish?”

  “He means we won’t join him at his table, thank you,” said Cass when Francois stared back at Brodie in confusion.

  Francois took this as a dismissal and bowed with relief. “I understand completely Madam,” he said before scurrying back to Malachi.

  “I don’t think that walloper understands anything,” grumbled Brodie. “Certainly no’ me.”

  “Maybe he really is French after all?”

  “They can’t speak English in Partick either.”

  “You’re being very hard on Partick tonight. Don’t you think it was a mistake turning down Malachi? A conversation with him could have been useful.”

  “He wouldn’t have told us anything we want to know, like what he did to Elaine or where Mary is. He would have just taken the opportunity to get into our heads and that’s the last thing we need.”

  “Good point. Well, I’ve lost my appetite for dessert and Serge seems to have forgotten us, so shall we go back to our room?”

  “Aye hen. Let’s lock out the world.”

  As they got to their feet, Cass took his hands and kissed him.

  “I love you Brodie MacBride.”

  “I love you too Cass Carlisle,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers.

  “I want Malachi to see that nothing he does can affect us. We will always be strong.”

  “Aye we will,” he said, stroking her face.

  Serge took this to mean that he had proposed and been accepted and started excitedly prancing his way towards them with a bottle of wine and a massive bunch of roses.

  “My bag,” said Cass, dipping down to retrieve her clutch that had slipped to the floor, so she missed this extravagant display.

  Brodie frantically waved his hands back and forth at Serge while mouthing the word, abort.

  Serge slowed to a puzzled halt. When Cass straightened back up he shoved the wine and flowers behind the bar then hurried up to them. “Madam, Monsieur, is everything okay?”

  “Aye fine Serge,” replied Brodie. “We’re just tired, so we’re heading up to our room.”

  “I think something’s wrong with your chicken,” said Cass. “Brodie keeps going red and hot. If he falls ill there will be consequences.”

  With that statement she strode out, tossing back her magnificent mane of hair, leaving Brodie to give Serge an apologetic smile.

  “Sorry pal,” he told him. “I bottled it.”

  “Oh well,” said Serge, looking as disappointed as he felt. “I am sure you will manage soon.”

  “I hope so, I can’t take this pressure for much longer.” He tucked a twenty pound note in Serge’s jacket pocket. “You’ve been pure gallus pal, cheers.”

  “You are welcome Brodie.”

  He beamed at Serge. Another person had got his name right.

  Brodie followed Cass back to their room, resolutely refusing to look Malachi’s way, feeling a little dejected that she still wasn’t his fiancée. The lift doors pinged open and they stepped out to face another colony of bats, this time crammed into the corridor outside their room, blocking their way. Fifteen faces all regarded them with identical smirks.

  “We’re no’ in the mood for th
is,” glowered Brodie. “You gonnae get out of our way?”

  They all shook their heads.

  “Right.”

  Brodie grabbed one disciple by the scruff of his shirt and propelled him backwards, knocking his friends aside like bowling pins. Cass followed, kicking anyone who tried to protest or fight back.

  Once they were outside their room, Brodie released the man he’d used to clear a path, who fell to the floor, stunned and bruised.

  “A little lesson for you all,” announced Brodie, turning to face the stricken bats. “Don’t get in our fucking way.”

  With that he and Cass entered their room, locking the door behind them. Brodie immediately called down to reception to tell them that security needed to eject the group who had caused trouble in the dining room and if they didn’t do it pronto then he’d get his friend, who owned a newspaper, to destroy their precious hotel in the press. The stammering voice on the other end assured him they would deal with it immediately.

  “Do you know someone who owns a newspaper?” said Cass when he’d hung up.

  “Well, Mason doesn’t own it but he works for it. He’ll shite his wee nappy when I tell him about all this.” He smiled when she pressed her hand to his forehead. “Relax hen, I’m no’ ill.”

  “You sure?” she said anxiously.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist. “Sure. I’m fighting fit.”

  “Shame.”

  “Eh?”

  “Well, if you had been ill I thought we could play a little game of nurse and patient.”

  “Really?” he said, voice hoarse with lust. “Now you mention it, I do feel a wee bit poorly.”

  “Then you’d better lie down and let me tend to you.”

  Brodie lay back on the bed, running his fingers through Cass’s hair as she unbuttoned his shirt and kissed his chest. “That’s great hen, I’m feeling much better already.”

  “But you’re not out of the woods yet. You need more treatment.”

  Brodie wondered if now was the moment to make his big proposal but as her ministrations moved lower the words scattered from his brain. The sound of security yelling at the bats to vacate the corridor outside their room followed by shouts and thuds only made him feel even better.

  CHAPTER 11

  Brodie and Cass checked out early the next morning, eager to return to their own turf but that plan was scuppered when they discovered all four tyres on Brodie’s black SUV had been slashed.

  “The fucking batty pricks,” Brodie exploded in the middle of the street.

  “I don’t think there’s any doubt it was them,” sighed Cass, letting her bag drop to the ground. The hotel did have its own car park but there were limited spaces. As it had been full when they’d arrived they’d been forced to park on the street.

  “Great,” he exclaimed. “Now I have to call my dick of a recovery company. Last time I used them they kept me waiting on the hard shoulder of the motorway for five hours because they’re so fucking useless.”

  “I’ll call my company,” said Cass, taking out her phone. “My policy covers me, not the car, so they’ll come out to help.”

  “Nice one hen,” he said, calming down. She always had that effect on him.

  After making the call she hung up with a satisfied smile. “They’re sending out a third party roadside tyre replacement service. They’ll be here in ninety minutes and they’ll call me when they’re twenty minutes away, so we have plenty of notice. Do you want to get a brew while we wait?”

  “Aye but let’s check if the hotel has CCTV out front first. If we can get the bastards on camera vandalising my car then their little claims of harassment will get booted right oot the window.”

  The hotel staff were appalled that such a crime had been committed outside their premises and informed them that yes, they did have CCTV cameras out front. While they got security onto it they were invited to have complimentary tea or coffee in the lounge, which they accepted.

  Once they were settled in the luxurious lounge with their drinks, Brodie took out his phone. “I’ll call Elliott, see if they’ve made any progress their end.” He frowned when the call was answered. “What the hell was that? Did you just yawn at me? Oh, alright pal. Aye, I’d love an update if you can stay awake long enough to gie’ it.”

  Cass wondered what had been going on back in Glasgow as Brodie’s face grew longer the more Elliott spoke. “Aye, we’ve had run-ins with the pricks here too. I’ll tell you all about it when we get back.”

  “What’s happened?” said Cass when he’d hung up.

  “The batty bats have been up to shenanigans back home too. They haven’t protested outside the office again, they’re probably too scared of Mickey and his gang twatting them but whenever the boys leave the office groups of bats follow them. They don’t do or say anything, they just walk behind them being creepy wee bastards. Luckily the boys are good at losing people, so it doesnae last long.” He hesitated before continuing. “Elliott went to check on our house, just in case…”

  “Brodie what did they do?” she said when he paused.

  “Smashed windows, smeared shite all over the front door and shoved some through the letterbox, poured weed killer over all the plants in the garden...”

  “Including the dianthus?”

  “I think so, Elliott said all of them.” He hated the pain in her eyes, she’d worked hard to cultivate those gorgeous plants.

  “Anything else?”

  “They smashed the wee wooden wishing well.”

  “Bastards,” she said, shooting to her feet. “Come on, I want another word with that wanker Jeff.”

  Cass was an unstoppable force as she stormed into Jeff’s office, brushing off the receptionist as though she was a leaf in the wind. Jeff watched her stomp towards his desk with amusement written all over his face, confident with the presence of his heftiest male investigator, which quickly turned to alarm when she threw aside his employee.

  “You dirty, cowardly little turd,” snarled Cass, lunging for him.

  Jeff attempted to leap up and away from her but she caught the end of his tie and pulled him towards her. “Malachi’s home address,” she spat in his face. “Now.”

  “I don’t have it.”

  “Don’t lie,” said Brodie, kicking the hefty man to keep him down. “You’ll only piss her off even more.”

  “I’m telling you I don’t have them,” he said, rasping the last two words when she tightened his tie around his throat.

  “Right,” she said, dragging him around his desk by the tie.

  “What are you going to do?” he cried.

  “Open the photocopier lid Brodie,” she said.

  “With pleasure hen,” he grinned, enjoying the show.

  He lifted the lid of the large photocopier. Cass threw Jeff facedown on it before slamming the lid shut on his head and pressing the scan button. There was a flash of bright light and Jeff shrieked, “My eyes.”

  Brodie snatched up the piece of paper that was spat out the side of the machine and burst out laughing. “Jeezo Jeff, you’re even uglier on this than in the flesh.”

  “You ready to give us that address yet?” said Cass, pushing the button again.

  “Alright,” wailed Jeff. “Just let me up.”

  Cass released him and slowly he hauled his bulk upright. He whipped round, fist raised but Cass had expected this. She caught his arm and wrenched it to one side. Jeff yelped and toppled sideways to the floor.

  “I hope you don’t write with your left hand,” commented Brodie as Jeff rolled around on the floor, clutching his twisted limb.

  Cass snatched up a stapler off a desk, grabbed Jeff’s tie and stapled it to the carpet. She shoved a piece of paper and a pen under his nose, which was three inches from the floor. “Address, now,” she said coldly. “Unless you want us to start using your arse as a dart board.”

  Jeff hastily scribbled on the paper, grimacing at the pain in his injured hand.

  “Thanks,” she said,
snatching it off him once he’d finished and striding for the door. “And if you warn Malachi we’re on our way then I’ll be back with my cheese grater,” she called over her shoulder.

  Brodie followed her out, wanting to fall at her feet, grinning to himself, giving the hefty man a swift boot on the way out, ensuring he stayed down.

  “By Christ you’re a goddess hen,” said Brodie as they made their way out of the building. “That was incredible.”

  “No one messes with my dianthus,” she retorted.

  Brodie thought how much Ross would love that tough girl line. “So, have you got a plan?”

  “Yes. Go to Malachi’s house and beat the living shit out of him,” she replied, striding determinedly on.

  “As much as I’d love to do that hen, I don’t think it’s the right way to go.” What the hell was going on? Cass was usually the voice of reason talking him out of doing something daft. Now their roles had been reversed and the world felt to have been turned upside down.

  “Then what is the right way to go?” she said in a hard voice as they stepped outside onto the street.

  “I don’t know but we need to sit down and think about what we’re going to do with this information.”

  Cass flagged down a passing taxi, which rolled to a halt. She flung open the door, jumped in and narrowed her eyes at Brodie, who was still standing on the pavement. “Are you coming then or what?”

  “Course I’m coming,” he said, climbing in beside her.

  They couldn’t discuss what they were going to do in front of the driver, who wittered on endlessly about the weather, the footie results and his wife’s nagging, neither of them replying, not that he seemed to mind. Cass kept her gaze locked on the window, fury rolling off her in waves. Brodie knew that when she was in this sort of mood it was best to leave her until she came out of it in her own time.

  They told the driver to drop them off at the top of Malachi’s street, Cass getting out and stalking down the street the moment the car stopped, leaving Brodie to fling some cash at the driver and rush after her.

  “Calm down hen,” said Brodie.

  She didn’t reply, continuing to stride on relentlessly.

  Brodie caught her arm, forcing her to come to a halt. “You’ve got to take it easy or you’re gonnae land yourself in the crap.”