Jason Willow: Face Your Demons

by G Mottram

  Suddenly, Erin’s arm was around Jason’s neck and they set off at a run.

  Jason kept looking back as best he could without tripping up. Eddie just stood there, a darker shadow in front of the black mass of the onrushing mob. Then he dropped to his knees and drew his hands slowly apart like he was swimming breaststroke.

  The entire front row of the mob were jerked down flat as if they’d tripped over something. Those behind tumbled over them and for a moment, confusion reigned.

  Eddie rose and started to walk backwards, keeping both hands pointing outwards. The Drunken Abbot men scrambled over the fallen front runners only to trip over again.

  ‘Open it.’ Oliver hissed as he slowed the three of them to a stop with Jason still staring back at Eddie.

  Jason reached out with the keys to unlock the back doors and dropped them in the dark. ‘Oh hell.’ He stepped forward to feel for them and heard the clink of his foot kicking the keys further away.

  ‘Bugger,’ Oliver swore, dropping to all fours and scrabbling around for the keys. Jason did the same as Erin slumped against the locked back door.

  ‘Can’t hear an engine, gentlemen,’ Eddie shouted, from not very far away. ‘I can only keep this up for a few more seconds…’ His voice was thinner than his normally rich timbre. He was straining.

  No keys. They could see nothing in the pitch black shadow.

  Suddenly there was a glare of light as Erin flashed a torch beam over the ground.

  ‘Going,’ Eddie said from ten steps away, ‘…going…’

  ‘There,’ Oliver snapped and reached behind a tyre to pull out the keys.

  ‘Gone,’ Eddie groaned and his arms flopped to his sides. Fifteen metres beyond him, the mob began picking themselves up. A tide of obscenities rose up with them and they surged forward, baying for blood.

  Somehow Oliver was in the van and starting the engine. Jason grabbed Erin’s good arm and threw it over his shoulder. Tearing his eyes away from the onrushing mob of shadows, he started to drag her around to the passenger side.

  ‘The back doors, idiot,’ she hissed through gritted teeth.

  Jason yanked open one door and almost threw her inside.

  Eddie sprinted towards him. The closest of the mob were just steps behind him.

  ‘Get in,’ he yelled. ‘Leave the door open.’

  Jason leapt in and hurled himself to one side as Eddie dived in head first behind him.

  ‘Go.’ Eddie yelled and Oliver hit the accelerator just as the first hands locked on to the open doors.

  Jason kicked the grasping fingers away, reached out over the tarmac blurring beneath him and yanked both doors shut.

  He fell back on the cool metal floor as they screeched out of the alleyway and into the streetlight beyond.

  ***

  Oliver didn’t slow down but hurtled along another of the main streets which ran right through Drunken Abbot. Shuttered shop fronts, side streets and yellow lit pubs whipped past as Jason pulled himself up against one of the bench seats.

  Erin eased herself up opposite him, swearing under her breath each time they hit a bump. Eddie had already climbed into the front next to Oliver. No one spoke.

  After a minute or so, Jason roused himself. Stinging cuts and throbbing swellings began to override his diminishing adrenaline. He twisted painfully towards Erin – her face alternately cast in a yellow, fluorescent sheen then brushed back into shadow. She looked awful – her eyes and mouth drawn tight in pain.

  ‘How’s your shoulder… I’m so sorry - I just couldn’t stop them all. There were too many. All I could do was try to push you out of the way when that bat came down. I wasn’t good enough to…’

  ‘Shut up, Jason,’ Erin said. She stared straight ahead. ‘You did what you could.’

  ‘Yes, but…’

  ‘But nothing – stop looking for some sort of absolution,’ she spat. ‘Oliver – for God’s sake slow down or this heap will blow up and I don’t want to walk home.’

  Eddie grunted his agreement and Oliver eased up a little. Jason stopped talking.

  ‘I’m bloody knackered,’ Eddie said from the front.

  Jason could see half of Eddie’s face in the rear view mirror. In the now slower flashes of streetlight, his gang leader looked deathly pale, as if drained of life.

  Jason swallowed and asked. ‘Is that what using the Gift does to you…? I mean…’

  Eddie snorted. ‘Only if you use it too much, old boy… things did get a little more hairy than I expected back there. Young Erin and I had to pull out a few more stops than is strictly advisable. We’ll feel like death for a couple of days, but then we’ll be back to our usual, bouncy selves.

  ‘Unless my shoulder is actually broken,’ Erin said. ‘That might stop me being quite so bloody bouncy.’

  Jason chewed his lip and looked out of the window. ‘Jakra isn’t enough is it?’ he asked none of them in particular. ‘If that bat had hit Erin’s head...’

  Nobody said anything. Just the occasional wince and intake of breath from Erin as the van jolted or rounded a corner. In a short while they would be out of Drunken Abbot, away from the harsh, fluorescent yellow glare and into the cool moorland dark.

  Jason stared out of the window. How could the others be so calm? All of them might have been killed tonight. He’d been next to useless – even with all his training and pit fighting over the past few weeks, one or all of them could easily have be lying with their heads crushed in the Abbot and Lashing or that alleyway now. It was the Gift that had kept them alive.

  ‘I want to learn,’ Jason said, ‘I want to learn how to use my Gift. This isn’t going to happen again.’

  ‘Are you certain you’re ready to go against your father’s wishes? Eddie asked, now leaning his head against the side window and seeming half asleep. ‘You’re not going to change your mind once you talk it over with him?’

  ‘He won’t stop me - it’s my life. Erin… all of us could have been killed tonight. My sister and I were almost…’ Jason trailed off. ‘I’ve decided - I need something more than just my Jakra.’

  There was silence for a long while. Jason thought Eddie might have drifted off but then, out of the dark, he spoke.

  ‘Good decision – now pipe down and let me sleep.’

  ***

  It was nearly midnight when Oliver pulled into the Old Mill’s drive. There were no silhouettes in porch-light this time, no-one waiting at the door full of concern and frustrated anger. Jason had been getting home later and later since joining the Brash and it seemed Dad had given up worrying. Perhaps he didn’t care if Jason came home at all now. He’d left the outside lights on though… very good of him.

  The van crunched to a halt on the gravel right outside the front door but Oliver kept the engine running. It looked like they weren’t planning on popping in for a cup of tea.

  Jason turned to Erin. She still sat rigidly with her face tense and white in the moonlight.

  ‘Erin, I’m really sorry…’

  ‘I know.’ She glanced at Eddie whose head had lolled back in his seat. ‘Still, it looks like mission accomplished so don’t worry about it, eh?’

  Oliver twisted around. ‘Jump out, Jason. We all need to get some sleep.’

  ‘Of course, sorry.’ Jason fumbled for the door release ‘Thanks for getting us out of there, Oliver.’

  Oliver snorted a laugh. ‘I only drove, kid - thank Eddie for holding off the mob.’

  Jason finally found the door handle. The last time he’d touched it, less than half an hour ago, there had been dozens of crazed men just outside screaming for their blood. He pulled the lever with an effort and stepped out into the still night of Darkston Wick.

  Jason shut the door and Erin nodded to him with a tight smile through the dirty rear windows before Oliver roared away, wheels spinning in the gravel. In moments the van’s red lights had disappeared up into the trees.

  Jason breathed in deeply, letting his head fall back to look at the stars. H
e ached and stung in a hundred different places. He was just fifteen but tonight he could have been killed - his life over before it had really begun.

  He eased himself up the stone steps, opened the doors and stepped into the dimly lit hall.

  ‘About time – d’you know how late it is?’ Miranda’s voice wrapped around him.

  At the far end of the corridor, the sitting room door was wide open and shimmering firelight spilled out. Resigned, Jason started down the corridor. Unlike Dad, Miranda would follow him to his room if he tried to ignore her.

  He stepped into the room. Dad was in one of the fireside armchairs and Miranda lounged on the couch. At the sight of him, her eyes sprang wide open but the next moment her mouth pulled into its angry tight line.

  ‘What happened to you? Did you find a war?’ she asked, finally. Dad just stared at him, appraising the damage.

  ‘Training got a bit heavy,’ Jason said.

  ‘Training?’ she asked. ‘Training shouldn’t do that to you. They’re a bunch of perverted sadists if that’s how they teach you to fight. And it’s almost midnight… have you any idea how worried Dad is about you and what you’re doing… where you are every night… if…’

  ‘Who are you,’ Jason cut in, ‘…my mother?’

  Miranda’s head went back as if she’d been slapped. Then she took in a slow breath and stared at him. ‘You know, you’re turning into someone quite crap.’

  ‘Alright – that’s enough,’ Dad said, quietly. He held an almost empty mug of cocoa. ‘Is anything broken?’

  ‘No,’ Jason said, ‘but it could have been.’

  ‘What are you on about?’ Miranda asked.

  Jason looked away. His throat was all tight and he didn’t want to get into this now. ‘I’m going to bed.’ He croaked and quickly turned to stride down the corridor.

  He heard the creak of someone standing up in the sitting room.

  ‘Let him go, Miranda… he needs to work this out for himself.’

  His stomach clenching, Jason ran upstairs to his room.

  Chapter 15

  For the rest of the weekend Jason managed to largely dodge both Dad and Miranda by taking long runs in the woods and rowing up and down the river. Although he could tell Miranda was itching to either nag or talk to him, both she and Dad gave him space.

  On Monday morning he avoided any chance of deep and meaningful conversations over breakfast by getting up late and just grabbing a banana before darting out of the front door.

  There were no interrogations at the bus stop either as Mouse and Louisa were on study leave. Grateful for the peace, Jason sank onto the back seat alone and watched the countryside waft by through the diesel fumes

  They lurched into Drunken Abbot and started picking up the Skins and normals. At the second stop, Hairy, Richard Baldwin, Deano and Rat Tail got on, pushing in front of the other town kids as usual. They’d taken to largely ignoring Jason ever since he’d joined the Brash and was massacring Skins in the pit. This morning seemed no different. The boys didn’t even glance at the back seats at all as they trudged upstairs, eyes down. Jason allowed himself a small smile. He was out of their league now.

  Rat Tail was last to start up the stairs. Suddenly she stopped and the normals behind froze so as not to jostle her. She turned to look at Jason, her eyes narrowing, her lips tightly set. She seemed to be wrestling with some decision then she spat out what she wanted to say. ‘Enjoy yourself on Friday did ya?’

  Jason just looked at her calmly.

  ‘My old man was in the Abbot and Lashing, you know. He’s a crap dad, knocks me and my mum about an’ everything but at least the sod brings home the food vouchers with his beer money at the end of the week.’

  Jason continued to watch her impassively. What little plan were the Skins up to now? Whatever it was, they would come off worst.

  Rat Tail spat on the bus floor. ‘Not any more though, eh? Not after what you and your big friends done to him. He won’t be back at the brewery for a month and no work means half-vouchers and no ale money. You don’t know what he’s like if he don’t get his ale every night.’

  The kids behind her were trying to edge into the bus but Porter, the driver, seemed in no rush to set off just yet. He was enjoying the show, peering around the back of the drivers cab with his little black eyes shining.

  ‘Leave it, Rat,’ Hairy’s voice sounded from upstairs. ‘He’ll get what’s coming to him soon enough.’

  Rat Tail spat again. ‘Hope you’re proud of yourself, big man,’ she hissed at Jason, ‘me and my little sister are gonna suffer for this.’ She stamped out of view up the twisting stairwell.

  The doors hissed shut, nipping at the last normal to get on as the bus jerked forward.

  ***

  There was a reception committee of sorts when Jason stepped off the bus in Silent Hill. Skins and normals were hanging around in groups just watching the busses disgorge their loads and as Jason appeared Rat Tail shouted out of the top window. ‘Here’s the hero who broke some faces at the Lashing.’

  Jason glanced back up at her and she gave him the finger. When he turned back, the disparate groups of pupils started shifting in towards him.

  As if they were waiting for this, four Brash prefects appeared out of the north passage and began ringing their hand bells. Jason looked at his watch – there should have been another ten minutes before registration.

  Slowly, reluctantly, the groups turned away and shuffled towards the school as the Brash prefects strode through the clusters shaking their brass bells in various ears.

  ‘What the hell did you do on Friday night?’ Violet was somehow standing next to him as the bus pulled away. ‘Half of Drunken Abbot is gunning for you.’

  ‘I don’t know if I should be talking about it…’ Jason began but Violet cut him short.

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Listen…’ she said then one of the prefects glanced back from herding the rest of the school into the passage.

  ‘You too, Grey – you’re nothing special. Get in there.’

  Violet grabbed Jason’s arm and started walking him slowly towards the school. ‘We haven’t any time. Brash is going to try to take you out of school, bring you to the abbey. Get out of it if you can but if…’

  The deep purr of a powerful, perfectly tuned engine rolled over them. Alan Brash’s large black Bentley, gleaming in the bright sunlight, swung in through the school gates.

  ‘Oh bugger,’ Violet said, ‘now I’ll be for it.’ She stared up at Jason. ‘Things are getting weird at the abbey, really weird. Don’t get involved, all right? And don’t tell him I said anything…’

  ‘Violet – I want to be trained…’

  ‘You should be in classes, young lady.’ The Bentley eased up next to them and Brash stepped out of the rear door.

  Violet stared at him defiantly.

  ‘Now.’ Brash said, quietly, holding her gaze.

  With a last glance at Jason, Violet almost stomped her way back into the tunnel. Jason nodded to Brash politely and began to follow her.

  ‘Hold on, Jason my boy,’ Brash called after him.

  Jason turned around slowly.

  Brash let loose his bright smile. ‘Your little excursion into town on Friday has stirred up a lot more… interest than we might have expected. It won’t do anyone any good if you stay in school today.’

  Jason nodded. ‘Are you sending me home?’

  ‘If that’s where you want to go,’ Brash answered. ‘Alternatively you can keep your word to Edward and poor injured Erin and begin your real training.’

  ‘What – right now?’

  ‘Unless you’ve changed your mind or Violet has said something to make you think again…’

  ‘Violet?’ Jason made a show of looking puzzled that he hoped wasn’t overdone. He couldn’t pull out now – not without breaking his promise or admitting Violet had been trying to dissuade him. ‘She was telling me off for fighting like normal… why - is there something she could have said
to change my mind?’

  Brash studied him for a long moment then smiled again. ‘Violet isn’t very keen on our training methods. Come on, get in… you’re the type of young man who likes to make up his own mind, aren’t you?’

  ‘Fine.’ Jason walked over to the car.

  The Bentley looked a lot less menacing in the morning sunlight than it had that Sunday night when Brash had visited. As he got in he saw the darkened glass screen was up between the front and back seats. He wondered if the skeletal Cadaveril was behind it.

  They glided out of the school gates with Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata fading in from hidden surround-sound speakers. Jason caught a hint of polished wood and leather in the gently circulating cool air while outside the windows the hot summer’s day whispered by.

  Brash poured himself a cut glass goblet of some white wine and Jason a whisky tumbler of iced water from a discreet chiller cabinet. Two flat screen monitors and umpteen silver switches and knobs filled a mahogany panel next to the cabinet but despite all the gadgets, nothing, anywhere in the whole car, rattled.

  Jason took a sip of his water, not looking at Brash. He wanted to learn his Gifts but this was all happening too fast.

  ‘I know you’re worried about this, Jason,’ Brash said, swirling his wine, ‘your father doesn’t want you to accept your powers or become involved with the Watch but the truth is, you’re already a part of it all. You have the potential to be massively powerful and because of that you will always be a magnet for the Brethren. If they could possess you…’

  Brash shook his head and tasted his wine. ‘Wherever you run, they will always find you eventually – you must realise that by now. You need to be able to protect yourself and your loved ones and for that, you need your Gift.’

  Jason took a slow, deep breath. It should be his father in front of him, offering to teach him the Gift, seeing him through all of this.

  ‘Dad would hate me being here with you.’

  Brash nodded gently and sank back into the sumptuous leather to take another sip of his wine. He smiled sadly over the sparkling crystal.