A hand had taken hold of hers, preventing the needle from puncturing the skin. Jo looked up, dazed, into bright blue eyes, all that was visible inside a brown hood. The intruder was a monk.
“No.” A voice came from inside the hood. “You do not need that. If you want to die, I am here for you.” He released the tourniquet on her arm.
“Who the fuck are you?” she swore, frustrated that her determination was broken. “How did you get in... and why do I feel better while you are holding my hand?”
The monk took the syringe, and laid it on the table. “Hear what I have to say, and then make your decision.”
“I’m listening,” she said. “Would you mind letting go my wrist? Tell me, who are you? Some do-gooder I suppose. How did you like get in?”
“I am Brother Francis,” the monk said calmly. “I am here to help you on to the next life.”
“I was, like, managing quite nicely on my own.” Jo snorted. “Why do I need your help?”
“The pain is clouding your judgement. I am here to take that away, so that you can make a more rational decision.”
“I certainly feel a bit better.” Jo stood up. “Can we have some light? I want to see your face.”
“There is enough light. Are you sure you are ready?”
“Who are you: rapist, pervert, murderer? How did you get in? Not that I like actually care.”
The monk pushed his hood back. Instead of something ghastly, as Jo expected, she saw a fresh face. The man was apparently only in his thirties.
“Who the hell are you?” Jo pressed.
“I’ve told you,” said the monk. “I am here to help you on to the next life, but only if you are absolutely sure.”
“You are a murderer?”
“Only a taker of life given willingly.”
“That’s, like, weird. I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to. Tell me, are you ready to die?”
“I’ve done everything I have to.” Jo sighed. “But I feel great. Will this last?”
“Alas not.” The monk released Jo’s hand, and the pain hit her again in waves. She collapsed on the bed, whimpering. The monk continued. “You were taking some of my own life-force while we were in contact... It is not something I am familiar with. I ask, again, are you ready to die?”
“Is it going to hurt?”
“Not at all. It will simply be like going into a deep relaxing sleep.”
“Bring it on,” said Jo. “Take my arm again. Would you like me to lie down?”
“It will save damaging your body.” The monk helped her to lie back. “Close your eyes, and pray for release.”
Brother Francis placed his palm on Jo’s chest and closed his own eyes. They seemed to link, and Jo saw inside his thoughts. She knew he was feeling all her pain, but he did not flinch. His own energies flowed into her. It would not be long. She could feel his desire to feed. In his own way, he was addicted to absorbing life essence.
She saw in all his travels through time that it was still hard for him to resist the temptation of taking a life that should go on; a cry for help rather than a genuine desire to move to the next world. So far he had resisted all comers, and she admired him for that. But now it was her time, and she could at least give willingly what she had left, to this amazing man. She knew that she did not have long, and relaxed into the sleep of oblivion. She felt him pressing harder on her chest, and their spirits mingled briefly as one.
“Brother Francis, I will not let you.”
The monk jerked his hand away, and Jo came back to reality with a shock of pain. She looked over his shoulder as he twisted round. A red-headed woman was standing behind him. He stuttered like a guilty schoolboy.
“Genet of Siwaldston! How... why are you here?”
The red-head gave him a slap. “Back off. The Book of Ghosts decrees that this young woman shall live.”
“But she wants to die,” protested Francis. “I am here to help. I cannot cure the canker within her.”
“No, but you can give her more time,” said Genet. “You will bestow her with your own life force. I demand it.”
“But...”
“It is better to give, than to receive,” said Genet sarcastically. “Have you forgotten your own scriptures?”
The monk backed away from the mesmerising stare of the woman. “I cannot do that,” he said, slowly.
“You already have... when you took her pain, you were giving your own essence. Simply continue as you were.”
“But, I need the life.”
“You can spare some, I’m sure. There will be always plenty of others who you can help on their way. Release this one, if not for yourself, for me...” Genet batted her eyelashes at the man.
“Do not tempt me. I remember our last meeting.”
“Yes,” pressed Genet. “You are young again. With youth comes the weaknesses of youth, as well as the benefits. Think on that perhaps when you try to absorb too much.”
“My Lord,” said Francis. “You are right. It has been so long, I was forgetting the faith.”
“You have a job to do. Do it.” Her body wavered and seemed to grow faint. “I will have to trust you,” she said. “It is not easy holding myself together in this world.”
“You and everyone else these days,” murmured Jo.
Genet shot her an irritated glance. “Oh, do be grateful, woman.” She vanished with a snort. On the floor where she had been was Jo’s cat.
“You look like the witch’s ‘familiar’ from the hovel in Siwaldston.” Francis bent to ruffle the top of its head. He laughed. “You must be a fair age, though you don’t look it.”
“It’s not the same bloody cat,” came Genet’s voice from the air behind him. “That would be stupid.”
He spun around, but there was no vestige of the witch.
“Like, what was all that about?” said Jo, groggily.
“Nothing,” said Francis, “but I’m not allowed to take your life. You have a higher calling, it seems.”
“Oh, forget that, and get on with it,” said Jo. “Kill me, save me, it’s all the same really, unless you can be more useful.”
“I can’t save you.” The monk shook his head. “But I am tasked with giving you extra time. You have a destiny.”
“Fat chance of achieving anything,” said Jo. “Like, do what you have to do, then bugger off and leave me to sleep. I am really so tired after all this hurry-scurry.”
“Like Genet said, don’t be so ungrateful.”
“Yeah, right, and you coming to murder me. Did I miss something? Someone else here? I’ve forgotten.”
“She’s like that. Let us proceed.”
“And keep your hands off my tits.”
“I never intended...”
“Joking, now get on with it. What’s the Afterlife like?”
“Overrated, but you’re not going to find out, this time.”
Francis seated himself beside the bed, and carefully placed his hand on Jo’s chest again. His other still held her wrist, feeling the weak pulse. He closed his eyes, and the vigour of his youth started to seep into her. Jo gasped. Her body shuddered and bucked. The monk held her down, as more of his energy flowed into her. She struggled and writhed. She took a great breath, broke the grip on her wrist and both her hands grabbed his, holding it tighter to her.
“Stop!” he shouted. “You’re taking too much energy. You’ll kill me.” He desperately dragged his hand away.
Jo sat up, panting. “My God, what, like, happened?”
“You were stealing all of my life,” stuttered Francis. “You nearly had the lot. You would have done for me.”
“Wow, I feel amazing.” Jo turned her own hands over and regarded them with awe. “My skin, and everything feels as good as ever was. Magic. What did you do?”
“Gave you some time back,” said Francis faintly. “I’ve got to go... desperately have to find new people to feed off.�
��
He pulled the hood up, but not before Jo saw his face again. He wore the wrinkled, lined skin of a very old man.
“I’m sorry.” She tried to take hold of his skeletal hand.
“Whatever.” At the door, he turned to give her one last look. “There will be others.”
19. Ritual
A
nkerita was grabbed, arms and feet and carried bodily over to the table. The men held her down and tied her to ropes at each corner, spreading her out across the cold marble.
“It seems fitting,” said Fantasia, “that we use your own knife to dispatch you.” She brushed the blade across her palm, and a stream of blood gushed. “By Hades, that’s sharp. Bring me a bandage, somebody.”
Praed rushed to a first-aid kit on the wall. Fantasia sucked at the wound. “Put those plastic stiches across first,” she said, “and a big plaster should hold the cut closed.”
Once she was patched up, Fantasia laid the Book on the end of the slab, between Ankerita’s stretched legs. “Leave us,” she commanded her men. “If anyone even glances at what is about to happen, they will be dealt with.”
“You sure you will be okay alone with her?”
“Yes, Mr Praed. Go and wait in the outer office.”
The men departed, casting backward glances at the helpless girl on the slab.
“Let us begin.” Fantasia slipped the straps on her shoulders and the silk garment slithered to the floor.
Even in her frightened state, Ankerita was impressed at the perfectly honed body. Evil is definitely the way to go if you want to be really fit, she mused stupidly. Fantasia started to read the words of a ritual, but Ankerita noticed that the bandage around her hand was starting to show signs of dark blood seeping through.
As the words of power and arcane gestures went on, Ankerita realised the enchantment was actually working on her. She felt her own body change under the influence and could no longer thing clearly. Her terror was slowly replaced by a strange euphoria, of warmth... and desire.
Fantasia repeated the incantation for the third time:
“I call to the mighty bringer of light, Lucifer. Spirits of the abyss, hear my call, most powerful one, and all my thoughts do resonate through the universe. Take thine enemy, take her, smite her, break her, scorn her in the night. From the mighty depths of Hell, cast your darkness on her life. O Lucifer, o shining star, Prince of light and darkness, touch her, burn her and accept this woman’s life’s blood as tribute to your colossal power. With that blood you will grant me new life, and unending control over the parasites that inhabit your world. So it shall be!”
The candles guttered, and in Ankerita’s vision appeared a face of pure evil. Fantasia’s face, still hauntingly handsome, was twisted by the darkness around them. The woman raised the knife. “We could have been more,” she muttered. “Such a shame for us to end like this.”
“It is all wrong.” Ankerita fought the spell, and snapped back into the present. She shouted. “Someone, help me!”
“Leave her!” Danny sprinted across the room, and twisted the knife out of Fantasia’s grip. It skittered away. “I’m not being party to murder. We never agreed it would go this far.”
“Sorry ma’am.” Praed panted up, closely by Jones. The two men quickly wrestled Danny to the floor. “He took us by surprise.”
“I told you to watch him.” Fantasia hastily pulled up her dress and smoothed the material irritably. “I thought he would try to intervene. I saw it in his aura. Hold him, while I finish my work here. Damn you, man, I’ve got to redo the chants. Look away, damn you all.”
Jones handed the knife back. He deliberately stared at Fantasia’s body. She scowled and shooed him away. “Tie the man up, or something. Just don’t let him break my concentration again. I will deal with you all, later.” She sighed, controlling herself, and a smile flickered over her face. “And Mr Keech, don’t expect to get a good report on your next one-to-one... All of you, out!”
Jones sniggered, and he and Praed dragged Danny back to the office. Fantasia reopened the book, and began the incantations again. “Damn them all. I have to restart from the very beginning, or the ritual won’t work.”
Ankerita scowled, and struggled with her bonds. The rope was soft, but too strong for her. The words from the book began again, and slowly, she felt the previous euphoria return. She tried to fight it, but she and the Book were linked, and its power swamped her. Time seemed to stand still. She drifted on memories and visions, only vaguely aware of the awesome woman, now naked again.
And then the words stopped. Elegant fingers reached towards her.
“And so you give me new life.”
Fantasia raised the knife above the helpless girl, and plunged it downwards. Ankerita gave a long cry of mixed pain and rapture, and Fantasia sank to the floor, struggling for breath.
20. Miracle
G
radually Ankerita became aware that she was still alive. She also became aware of her beautiful executioner lying on the floor beside the table. She felt her bonds were weakened, and began to try and free a hand. There was a curse from beside her. Fantasia levered herself up, and stared in confusion at the girl’s undamaged body. Ankerita sighed, and murmured, almost apologetically, “That didn’t go swimmingly, did it?”
Fantasia picked up the knife, and muttered as she inspected it. She scratched a line on the black marble with the point. It left a groove, and stone dust. The men had returned, and apart from savagely restraining Danny, were ogling her. Fantasia didn’t notice. She feebly raised the knife again. “I can’t have missed.”
“Wait, you have to redo the ritual,” Ankerita interjected, hope and understanding starting to form in her mind. The hand was nearly free. It must have been the ritual, not any knot that was restraining me, she realised.
“A plague on that.” Fantasia advanced on her victim. “I’ll do for you properly, this time.”
“Don’t you want immortality?” Ankerita’s words stopped the knife in mid-air. “Unless you perform the ritual correctly, you won’t get any of the benefits.”
“You’re right, damn you to Hell.”
“And you.” Ankerita sighed. “I will see you there.”
Fantasia scowled. “Forget that; I’ll take my chances with the immortality thing. Your blood must have some properties, even if I don’t follow the rites. At least I will be rid of you, and that friend of yours.”
“You will have her blood on your hands.” Danny blurted. “Are you a murderer? I don’t believe you have done, so far. Start, and the Law will get you eventually. Not everyone can be bribed to keep quiet.”
Fantasia regarded the blade, uncertainly. “A good observation, but what to do?”
“Give me the knife.” Jones gently took it from her. She did not object. “We all want rid of the bitch, and until she goes, you won’t rest. I will do it for you... or I could simply throttle the life out of her.”
“No, the blood would definitely be useless that way.”
“Then I’ll use the knife.”
“Hold, man. Give me a moment to consult the book again. Perhaps the blood, on its own, will be of benefit...”
Fantasia took up the Book, and pored over it, oblivious to her nakedness, and the lecherous glances from Jones. Danny, on his knees, stared hopelessly, and Praed gave him the odd thump for no apparent reason. Ankerita shut her eyes and tried to contact anyone or thing in the spirit world to help her out of this terminal mess, but all the time working at the bond on her wrist.
Eventually, Fantasia closed the book. Ankerita froze. “I think it will work,” she said. “Collect the blood, and I’ll determine how to use it afterwards. Over to you, Mr Jones, and stop leering at me.” She retrieved her dress, and climbed back into it. Jones made no attempt to avert his eyes. “I’ll leave her to you.” She turned theatrically on her heel, and strode towards the office.
Jones gave an evil grin. He wrenched Ankerita’s r
obe apart and placed the knife between her breasts. Then, he looked thoughtful, and laid it back on the side of the slab. “I suppose I am on a promise. Will you assist me, Mr Praed? We have waited long for this moment.”
“My pleasure indeed...”
The office door burst open. Fantasia hurtled through, with several men at her heels. “To arms! Leave the bitch. Deal with this lot first!”
At the head of the force was George, yelling, and waving a bike chain around his head. “Leave ma lassie alone!”
Behind him came the damaged figures of Iliesca and Popescu, quickly followed by two other men. Fantasia’s thugs brought out machetes from under the table.
“Hold them off!” Fantasia smiled at Ankerita. “Machetes, yes, we were going to take you apart after the sacrifice, darling. It is easier to dispose of evidence in small pieces. I have a friend who keeps tigers, you see...” She glanced back at her minions, being beaten to the floor by overwhelming odds, but still fighting viciously. “That might have to wait until next time, though. I will see you again. Lucifer take you all!” She dived into the shower-room.
Danny dragged himself upright. He stared at the Fantasia’s bolthole. “I suppose she can’t get away.”
“Let me off this slab, if you’ve gone all pious,” shouted Ankerita at him. “It’s bloody freezing with the door open. And stop ogling me, you pervert.”
“Sorry.” Danny focused on the table, letting his eyes linger for a little too long on Ankerita’s body, before covering her up. “I’ll cut you free. Where’s that knife?”
“Here.” Ankerita’s hand was finally free, and she swept the discarded blade up against his throat. He backed off, blood oozing from the nick she had given him. She stretched over and flicked the rondel against the rope on her other wrist. The strands parted instantly. Another two quick slashes, and the bonds on her ankles were gone. She slid off the lab and staggered towards Danny.
The Summoning Page 21