Max read the article in deepening horror. It certainly explained why Walter J. had been so tense when they’d spoken on the phone. Max also knew that it wasn’t possible for the news story to be entirely true. If Walter J. really did have more than a few suspicions about the President Elect, he wouldn’t have made public threats. But right now, with Walter J. being held in a secure facility for violent psychopaths, there was no way for Max to find out the truth. He should have realised something was wrong – Walt didn’t usually phone up just to chat. He’d had something on his mind. Max wished he’d told him his suspicions.
But worse was to come. The article airily mentioned that Walter J. had not been replaced – there was no-one watching the demons in Washington. This was serious.
“That doesn’t prove that this woman – this Lily Temple Bruce – is the one who’ll raise the Mother,” said Max.
“Well, if you don’t think the ‘Temple’ part of her name is a clue, maybe this will persuade you: her maiden name was Lily Sabnac. She says she got that from her French-Canadian father, but actually it’s another spelling of ‘Sabnock’. I know this Sabnock – he’s a demon and he doesn’t get out of bed for less than 10,000 souls a day. But I reckon she’s just using his name as a cover. Humans who like to play with a bit of dark magicks do that all the time. It’s so last century.”
“I’m still not convinced,” said Max.
“Oh, and did I mention that ‘Lily’ is short for ‘Lilith’?”
Max felt like he’d just fallen down the rabbit hole.
“Now do you believe me?” said Sophie.
Lilith. That was a name to conjure with. Lilith was the name of the serpent in the Garden of Eden. Some said she was the woman rejected by Adam in the Bible; the first woman, before Eve – and a wrong ‘un from head to tail.
Sophie was looking pleased with herself. Max felt a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach but remembered enough about his police training to compliment a colleague on a job well done.
“Good work, Sophie,” said Max in a strained voice. “I’ll book us on the first flight to Washington so we can check her out. I’m not saying you’re right but with Walter J. out of the picture, I’d rather be safe than sorry. Pack a bag – a small one.”
“No need,” said Sophie, who had stopped smiling. “Lily Temple Bruce has just announced that she’s making a whistle-stop, sight-seeing tour of the UK before taking up her Presidential role.”
She paused, her lovely eyes glittering.
“The President Elect will be in London – the day after tomorrow.”
The Beast of Bodmin
Max’s dream of a long, hot shower and early night evaporated with the news of Ms Bruce’s looming deadline.
“What do we do now?” said Sophie, unknowingly repeating the words that hammered in Max’s head. “How do we get close to her?”
He was surprised when inspiration struck almost straightaway. He was tempted to call it divine intervention.
“Wait! I’ve seen an email about this... Yes! Here it is! They’re looking for officers to do a ‘special guard duty’ for a VIP visit. That must be her. I’ll have to get myself assigned to the guard detail. There’s a meeting starting...” he glanced at his watch, “right now. Better hurry.”
“What about me?” said Sophie, pouting prettily.
“Don’t worry, partner, I’ll be keeping you close at all times,” grinned Max. “And I think I know how.”
They hurried down the corridor to the meeting about the VIP guard duty. Several bored-looking police constables perked up considerably at the sight of Sophie.
“Hello, Max,” said the oldest of them, his eyes popping out at the sight of Sophie. “We don’t often see you down here slumming it with the ordinary PCs. Are you joining our happy band?”
“Well, I thought I’d better remind you boys what a real police officer looks like, Eric,” said Max, with a smile. “Yes, I’m volunteering for the special guard duty.”
He added his and Sophie’s names to the list of volunteers.
Eric was only half listening to Max. He was running his eyes up and down Sophie’s astonishingly red dress.
“And who’s this?” he said to Max, although his eyes still hadn’t left Sophie.
“Er... this is DC... Smith. She’s been... transferred. Been working with me for a while now. She doesn’t mind helping out.”
“She can’t have been working with you for that long,” said Eric thoughtfully, “I’m sure I’d have noticed such a lovely creature. Hendon does still train us in observation.”
“I’m not a creature, I assure you,” said Sophie winningly. “I’m entirely human.”
The policemen exchanged surprised glances, unsure if they were supposed to laugh.
Sophie turned on the charm, realising she hadn’t said quite the right thing.
“Max and I are partners,” she added breezily.
“Oh,” said Eric, looking heartily disappointed.
“We’re professional partners,” corrected Max hastily. He didn’t want any false rumours circulating through the Yard. Especially when there was that pretty WPC he’d shared a coffee with in the canteen last week.
“Better and better,” said Eric, grinning toothily at Sophie who fluttered her eyelashes demurely.
At that moment the door banged open and a severe-looking woman in a Superintendent’s uniform marched in.
The men stood to attention and Sophie attempted to copy them, which wasn’t easy in six inch heels.
“At ease,” the Superintendent commanded. “I’m glad to see so many of you have volunteered for this special guard duty.”
Max smiled to himself. He knew that most of the officers here were just volunteering to relieve the boredom of arresting everyday criminals. It was always nice to work on white-collar crime for a change.
“I only need 12 officers,” the Superintendent went on. “If I call out your name, you’re on the team; if not, thank you for your time: PC Cuthbert, PC Wighard, Detective Tatwin, PC Dunstan, PC Ralph, PC Becket, PC Baldwin, PC Reginald, PC Grey, DC Bund, PC Rich and DC Darke. Thank you, everyone – that’s all.”
Sophie looked at Max in horror – her name hadn’t been called out.
“Er, excuse me ma’am,” said Max politely raising his hand. “But can I recommend my partner DC Smith to the special guard duty? She’s a real charmer.”
Sophie took the hint and fluttered her eyelashes again, this time at the Superintendent.
“What? Er... Ah, yes, DC Smith. How could I have left you out? Excellent, excellent. Thirteen! My lucky number. Ha ha ha!”
“Oh, I do so agree,” trilled Sophie.
Sophie used her charm to make sure that she and Max would continue to be paired-up together and on the official roster. The other police officers groaned when the Superintendent handed out the work schedules that separated them from the most beautiful woman they’d ever seen. More than a few hard stares were directed at Max’s broad back. He could feel himself getting red.
Max and Sophie had no intention of spending their time checking out the manhole covers near the President Elect’s disembarkation point at Buckingham Palace. That’s what the rest of the special guard detail was going to be doing. He and Sophie had other – less fragrant – work to attend to.
But now they were on the special guard duty roster, they had every reason to hang around in places from which other police officers would normally be barred: that is, anywhere the new President Elect would be going. And Max was becoming more and more convinced that Sophie was right – and that somehow the Bruce woman was involved.
“I could get used to this police officering,” said Sophie, distracting him from his dark thoughts. “So many delightful people.”
“Yeah, the good guys’ gizzards taste better, or so I’ve heard,” said Max.
“You really are a frightfully bad sport,” pouted Sophie. “I’m trying very hard to be good – it’s nearly killing me.”
Max smile
d. “Don’t worry, Sophie. Once this job is over I’ll release you from your Blood Oath and you can go back to your bad old ways.”
“Oh, would you, Max, darling? You’re such a sweetie!”
Max nearly choked.
“Whatever. Let’s go and check out some of your old demon haunts – the bars and clubs. We still don’t know for sure if this Lily Bruce is allied with the Mother, but if she is, she’s going to want to hook up with the Brood and the amulet they took from Ralphie – and we still haven’t found their main lair yet... plus I want to make certain they don’t get the chance to assist this Bruce character with whatever she’s plotting, if she’s plotting anything – especially if calling the Mother is on her agenda.”
“Do I have to come, Max, darling?” said Sophie, looking worried. “A girl has her reputation to think about – especially if I’m seen with you in broad daylight. I am the Saviour of the world, after all.”
Max rolled his eyes.
“Don’t worry. I won’t let any of them harm you while you’re with me. Anyway, these places are supposed to be neutral territory. Just watch my back and stay close.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” snarled Sophie. “After I finish this pathetic human job I have to go back and live with the other netherworldlings and it’s just so hard to wash off the smell of humanity – you’re all so disgustingly good.”
She caught Max’s eye.
“Of course I’d love to watch your back,” simpered Sophie. “It’s a super plan! I’ll watch you like a hawk.”
A shiver ran down Max’s spine. He still didn’t much like having a Level Two watch his back – it made his every instinct scream. He hoped the PTBs knew what they were doing. Sophie had been very useful but she was far from being rehabilitated.
“Where do you want to try first?” said Sophie with an abnormal expression of saintly patience.
“I thought we’d try ‘The Ram’s Head’?”
She frowned.
“Oh, do we have to? It’s terribly low rent – full of Level Ones – and other things.”
“True,” said Max. “But they usually have an ear – or tentacle – to the ground and know what’s going on.”
Sophie wasn’t very happy, especially when Max suggested that they walk there.
The short stroll was uneventful but Max felt the temperature in the pub drop the moment he and Sophie entered, which was saying something, as the temperature was already approaching freezing.
“You’re not welcome here, Detective,” growled the bartender, a large and astonishingly hairy man. “And as for you,” he said, glaring at Sophie, “you’re barred!”
“Why, Hengist! What on earth have I done to deserve such appallingly rude treatment?” said Sophie with a hint of steel in her usually flowery voice.
“Look, I don’t want no trouble,” said Hengist, trying to bluster, but wilting under the combined stare of both Max and Sophie. “But you ain’t too popular round here. Not since you started hanging out with the likes of him. No offence, Mr Darke.”
“Oddly enough, ‘trouble’ is what we’re trying to avoid, Hengist,” said Max, reasonably. “So why don’t you tell me what you know about Brood locations – or I’ll close you down on a Health and Safety violation – which, believe me, wouldn’t be stretching the law at all. No offence.”
Hengist started sweating profusely, causing an oily, brown mucus to seep from his skin.
Sophie wrinkled her nose. “Hengist, really! Who on earth have you been eating lately? You smell revolting.”
“I c-c-can’t tell you nothing,” stuttered Hengist. “Sorry, Mr Darke, but I’m more scared of them Brood and... than what I am of you – or her. If I speak to her,” he pointed at Sophie, “now she’s working for one of you lot and... and... Well, I’ll be worse than dead. And it ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
Max frowned in annoyance.
Sophie, on the other hand, was at her most frighteningly sweet.
“Why, Hengist,” she said, “why are you so scared to talk to little old me? You used to rather enjoy our private little chats.”
Hengist quivered and squeezed his eyes shut.
“It’s not that I don’t want to!” spluttered Hengist, spittle spraying across the bar. “I can’t speak to her,” he gurgled. “She’s the Saviour – she’s... she’s... good!”
Sophie’s eyes widened in surprise.
Max’s frown deepened. “It looks like your secret is out, Sophie, and I’d be very interested to know how that happened.”
Hengist threw down his cleaning rag and folded his arms. The rest of the Ram’s Head patrons stared stonily at Max and Sophie. The silence was deafening.
Max knew that anything he could threaten paled into insignificance when faced with a nest of Brood demons.
Defeated, they left the bar, knowing that they wouldn’t get any further information out of Hengist or any of his clientele, even the ones that could speak human languages. Instead, they retreated to a well-lit coffee shop to regroup – and come up with another idea.
“You’re well and truly busted now, Sophie. I don’t know how they found out that you’re the Saviour. I can’t believe the Professor would have told anyone...”
At the mention of the Professor’s name, Sophie closed her eyes and cried out.
“Oh no! I’ve just remembered. Mystical books like the Malleus have doppelgangers – most ancient mystical objects do. I wonder why the Professor didn’t remind us.”
“Pardon?” said Max.
“You know – doppelgangers – a mystical twin, like the two charms the Malleus mentioned. A sort of demonic ying and yang, darling.”
She looked at Max impatiently then continued with the lesson.
“It means that whenever a mystical book reveals its secret, its doppelganger does the same. If the Brood – or that Bruce woman – have got the doppelganger, then they’ll know exactly what we’re up to. And I’m guessing from what Hengist said, they know all about me. Max! I’ll be their number one target! You have to protect me!”
For once Sophie wasn’t exaggerating. Max groaned inwardly. His job – their job – had just got a lot harder.
Suddenly the plate glass window of the coffee shop exploded into a thousand tiny shards as a huge, hairy beast hurled itself through the glass – and straight at Sophie.
The customers screamed and ran for cover.
The creature was clawing its way across the rubble, determined to get to Sophie – who was lying trapped under a fallen coffee table.
“No way, sunshine!” yelled Max, grabbing the creature’s tail. “Keep your filthy paws off her!”
The beast turned with surprising speed and tried to sink its fangs into Max’s arm. It howled as smoke began to pour from its mouth. It seemed the protection spell on Max’s coat was doing its job. Max made a mental note to thank his gran.
The maddened beast raked its claws across Max’s head. One claw came close to his left eye and Max knew, rather than felt, that the flesh had been torn.
The beast screamed in joy, trying to lap up the blood that flowed from Max’s face, straddling his chest and forcing him backwards.
Max struggled to pull the water pistol from his coat pocket. He could smell the beast’s foul breath on his face.
“Leave him alone, you great hairy brute,” yelled Sophie.
She heaved the heavy table off her trapped legs and threw herself bodily at the creature pulling its arms behind it in a full-nelson wrestling hold. She used all her strength to force the creature’s head forwards. She smiled as the satisfying ‘pop’ told her that the creature’s neck had been broken, and it fell limply to the floor.
Max lay on the coffee shop’s floor, water pistol in hand, covered in his own blood and hyperventilating.
Sophie turned to him with the annoyed look of someone who’d just spilt a cup of coffee on a new dress, rather than someone who’d just slain a large, furry monster with her bare hands.
�
�Max, darling! Did that nasty, hairy brute hurt you?”
She pulled him to his feet with inhuman strength.
“What was that?” said Max weakly. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“Oh him!” said Sophie. “That was the Beast of Bodmin.”
“You know that creature?”
“Yes,” said Sophie. “We dated for a while, but he turned out to have a really foul temper.”
“So I see,” said Max softly. “Do you think he tracked us from the bar?”
“Probably,” said Sophie shrugging her shoulders. “He always was the jealous sort.”
The coffee shop owner tottered towards them. Max didn’t know whether the man was going to faint or vomit, or both.
“Are you all right?” said the man, in a strangled voice.
“Yes, we’re fine, thanks,” said Max, blood pouring down his face and soaking the collar of his new shirt.
“What... what was that?” said the man, pointing a shaking finger at the furry carcass.
“Er... a wild dog,” said Max.
“But... but it walked on two legs,” said the coffee shop owner, looking bewildered.
“Yeah, well. I think it escaped from the circus,” said Max. “Sir, I’m going to have to close this place for a health and safety violation. You can’t serve food with a corpse on the premises.”
Max waved his Warrant Card at the shaken coffee shop owner.
“Now, if you’ll just follow my colleague, Detective Smith, she’ll make sure that all your customers leave in an orderly fashion.”
Sophie led the way, rounding up the shocked customers like an elegantly efficient sheepdog, and pushed them outside. Max pulled a roll of ‘crime scene’ tape from his pocket and tied it across the shattered window and over the front door.
The blue and white tape fluttered gaily in the summer breeze but the message was clear: ‘Crime Scene – Do Not Cross’.
“What are you going to do about that fur-ball in there?” asked Sophie.
“I’ll send a retrieval unit for the body asap,” said Max. “Er... do you want to say any last ‘goodbyes’ to your friend.”
“Good gracious, no!” said Sophie, amused. “I expect I’ll see him again some time. Anyway, I rather enjoyed killing him. It’s good to keep in practice. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Max, darling. I am a demon.”
The Dark Detective: Venator (The Max Darke Files) Page 9