Taxi drivers were okay, weren’t they? She could trust him to get her to her caravan, that would also be icy cold. Damn, she’d been hoping for a warm body to keep her warm tonight. She gave him her address as she flopped against the window.
‘Thanks,’ she said a few minutes later.
‘No worries, I was just about to go off shift, you’re lucky I spotted you.’ He grinned in the rear-view.
‘Thanks.’ She grinned back
She awarded herself five points as she piled logs in the burner. She’d tried. She’d thought it would be easy but in the end, it was her own reluctance that made her fail. She could have gone ahead, used him, and then moved on, but she’d have made it clear she did what they said and she’d never be able to deny it again. She made herself a coffee as the fire began to warm the caravan. She’d sleep till noon.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE: MAËL
‘What have you got planned for today?’ Joy asked as she pulled on her coat, looking at him with a tenderness he wasn’t sure he deserved. Particularly since he was still in bed and she had to go to work.
‘I’m going to go check on Sparky.’
‘You have more books to sell?’ she asked, picking up her bag.
‘No, there’s a bit of a break until the tickets go on sale,’ he said. He had no intention of selling any more books.
‘Well say hi to Mr. Sparky for me.’ She smiled. ‘See you later hun.’
She’d walked across the room as she talked and planted a soft kiss on his forehead, making him grin.
‘Alright, see you this afternoon.’
He watched as she opened and closed the door, trying not to disturb neighbours who didn’t care, then turned to the windows. The storm had cleared the skies, today was going to be bright and warm. But he couldn’t stay in bed, things were itching at the corners of his mind. So, he got up and made breakfast.
Too early to go to Sparky’s, and leaving the apartment at this hour would raise suspicions. He could always stick on a tracksuit and go for a run but it wasn’t his thing, and as a Demon it wasn’t required for staying in shape.
The apartment had never been as clean as it had been in the last week. But he gave it another all over clean anyway. And then there was the cat. Sitting in the centre of the apartment, in a beam of not yet warm light, watching him with its big hazel eyes.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked–mop in one hand, cleaning rag in the other.
‘Meow,’ Bombardier said.
‘Well, that clears that up.’ He frowned.
The cat got up off its fat butt and padded toward him, rubbing aggressively around his legs. Without moving his feet, he reached over and leant the mop against the nearest wall, then chucked the rag onto the table. He stood for a moment, hands on hips, wondering. Static building up on his legs was causing his darkness to stir and begin to rise. The cat seemed to know what it was doing. Because as Mike leant down to rub the insistent cat on the head it whirled like a samurai and sliced through the palm of his hand.
‘Bastard,’ Mike muttered, standing upright again. The cat resumed its furious rubbing and twisting. And the room around Mike disappeared. Images flooded his head, playing out around him as if he stood in the middle of it, and yet he hadn’t been there.
The shop, the books, the cat on the shelves. Sparky returning to feed the cat, smiling, happy. The lightning silhouetting two figures against the doorway to the rear of the shop. One with astonishingly broad wings. The cat’s dangerous hiss. Sparky beginning to utter protection spells, defence charms, anything he could think of it seemed. Whoever these people were he was afraid of them. He didn’t even have time to go full demon before they were on him.
Then Sparky lying in a pool of his own blood on the sulphur-coated oval rug. The two spoke to him but Mike understood not a single word. Another flash and the men had gone. The cat hopped down from the shelves and sniffed where they’d been, checking adjoining rooms as if he wasn’t a cat at all. Human decisions. Demon decisions. Licking at Sparky’s blood as the last breath of life left his body.
Waves of nausea and dizziness dropped Mike to the ground where the cat stepped away, making itself comfy on a barstool under the breakfast bar. Groaning, Mike forced his way into the bathroom and hurled into the toilet. Hugging it so he didn’t fall. Waves of dizziness spinning the room. Feeling like his actual brain was spinning. He had to get himself together. He had to go to the shop and…and do something. Who was he meant to call? What was he meant to do?
Done vomiting he sat with his back against the cold wall, pulling the flannel from the sink to wipe his mouth. Deep breaths, steadying breaths. The darkness rose too fast, the cat made it happen. Mike hadn’t been in control, he still wasn’t, but neither was the darkness. There was a strange balance.
He slithered across the wooden floor, disrupting the white bath mat. Pushing a piece of skirting board that looked like every other piece of skirting and waiting for it to pop forward. He slid his hand into the gap and pulled out the wooden box. Nausea threatening to send him back to the toilet made him lie flat on the cold floor until it subsided. His darkness seemed to be experiencing the same disorientation, even though they had the same goal. He slid the latch and raised the lid. Dipping his hand inside he found what he was looking for. A pair of matched, dull, golden meditation balls. He hadn’t needed them in a long time. But just holding them calmed him. One represented his light, the other his dark. At least that’s what mother had always told him.
She’d marked each with a symbol known only to the pair of them. And when he moved them around each other they helped bring him into alignment. She’d explained once it wasn’t an actual darkness, not the way he thought of it, but rather his true nature. Who he really was on a base level. Lying on his back, rotating the meditation balls eased the nausea and drove away the dizziness. He sat up and returned them to their pouch in the box.
Thinking nausea and dizziness might assault him again, he took out a small corded bracelet with two tiny disk-like cymbals on. No bigger than his little fingernail, a hole through their centre, made from the same metal as the meditation balls. Wearing them would bring him balance. And he was going to need it.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX: GREEN
Task: Work out what it is you need or want that someone else has then do your best to take it from them. Is it their power or their pride perhaps? You know you want it; survival of the fittest is the key here. You are the most deserving of it, aren’t you?
Crap, were these tasks getting harder? He’d been almost completely rubbish yesterday and todays looked even more complicated. What do I want that someone else has? He thought about his flatmates and what they had but other than a girlfriend there wasn’t anything he wanted.
He dressed and went out early wandering the streets. He wasn’t sure if he was going anywhere in particular. So, it was rather a surprise when he turned up in front of the huge building that housed, amongst other things, the government offices. He wasn’t sure what they were for or what they did but he rather liked the cars out front. Especially that red Porsche. He’d always wanted a Porsche, ever since his uncle had turned up in one and let him sit in it. He sat on the steps that lead up to the main door and looked at the car.
He wandered over to the bakery to get something to eat before returning to the steps. It occurred to him that he’d been eating a lot of junk food and should probably try some healthy food.
As he was putting his rubbish in the bin he saw a tall guy in a camel coat and suit come down to the car.
‘Hey, is that your car?’ he called. It clearly was but Jason had a strange urge to make sure.
‘Yeah, all mine.’ He gave Jason a half smile before chucking his man bag across to the passenger seat.
‘How long did it take you to save up for that then?’
‘I didn’t save. I just decided I wanted a new car, saw this one, bought it. If you work hard maybe one day you can get one too.’ The guy sounded a little patronising.
&nbs
p; ‘Sorry, run that by me again. One day if I work hard enough?’
‘Yeah, you have to work hard to get things like this. So, go get a job, work your way up, and save your pennies. Maybe when you retire you can afford to buy a car you’ll no longer be able to drive to its full potential.’ The guy was smirking now.
‘I have a job, my own business in fact. And to be honest I only noticed it because it was like one my uncle used to drive. An older model.’ Jason wandered nearer and ran his finger along the bonnet.
‘Don’t touch it.’
‘Why not?’ Jason smirked. ‘Maybe if you work hard by the time you retire you’ll be able to afford a newer model.’
‘Oh naff off you dick’ed.’ The guy went to get in the car, taking his long camel coat off. It would get in the way whilst driving.
‘Oh, I’m the dick ’ed, am I? Let’s just look at your car, again shall we?’
‘I said naff off.’ There was something threatening about the way the guy came around the edge of the car door. Jason could see that he wasn’t the usual sit behind a desk all the time kind. This guy worked out and was twice the size of Jason.
‘Make me.’ What the hell was this shit coming out of his mouth?
‘Right.’
Jason all but stuck his chin out for the punch that knocked him sideways into the car.
‘I said stay off my car.’ The guy was more pissed off than the situation called for, Jason thought fuzzily.
‘You put me on it,’ he mumbled as he was picked up and flung back onto the pavement. This guy was inhumanly strong.
He staggered up as the guy tried to get in his car, walked over to the door and planted his boot firmly in the side. Pure rage flooded the guy’s face as he moved to get back out. Jason, realising he might have made a huge mistake, made a run for it. Unfortunately, he ran around the car straight into the path of a delivery truck. The last thing he saw was the guy’s face grinning. And as Jason frowned everything went blank.
The creature stood looking down at him. With every breath, its shoulders moved, as did its huge wings. Jason was sure it wasn’t an angel. People pounded on his chest, restricting his view, putting their face over his, their mouth on his, their hands on his neck, calling to each other. Blue lights flashed, but there was no noise other than the breathing and the strange papery sound of the wings moving.
The creature reached out a hand and, without thinking, Jason took it. It nodded to the guy with the Porsche, who paused in his agonised grief at what had happened, to nod back. Then pulled out his phone to answer it.
Jason scowled.
‘What’s happening?’ He asked, but the creature said nothing; pulling him along behind as it opened its wings and lifted them both into the air before hurtling towards the pavement. Jason screamed.
The pavement opened out into a pit. A huge pit.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN: MAËL
Dressed and washed he took out his phone, absentmindedly stroking the cat.
‘Stan?’ he said when the phone was answered. The cat hissed and jumped down to find somewhere less filled with Mike to lay.
‘Mikey! How are you doing? Bit early in the day mind.’ Stan’s jovial voice filled his ear.
‘Bit of trouble mate was hoping you could help me. Not sure who I have to inform.’ It sounded like Stan was in the city somewhere.
‘Inform about what?’ Stan sounded confused or distracted.
‘Can you meet me?’ Mike asked. ‘I had a weird vision, think a friend is dead but I don’t want to walk in there alone if there’s still a threat.’
‘Yeah, no worries, tell me where and I’ll be right there.’ Mike could hear Stan moving about, muffling the phone with his hand to talk to someone.
Mike gave him the directions and then ended the call.
‘I’ll bring you some food back,’ he told the cat; filling an old bowl with water and putting it down, making sure the cat had seen it. ‘I don’t even have any tuna, sorry.’
The cat seemed to shrug and curled back up, ignoring his new owner with practiced ease.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT: YELLOW
Task: You will dress stunningly today. No matter where you are going you must look irresistible. You want everyone to notice you, everyone’s eyes to follow you. Use the ‘look’, the one you practice in the mirror when no one else is at home. Be alluring and sexy, you are more attractive than you have ever been in your life, you are more attractive and sexy than that stupid bitch/dick who usually gets all the attention. Believe it and it will be true.
Frowning as he read the next day’s task in bed, it sounded like something for girls to do. He almost felt like he needed to put on a frilly pink frock and go out telling everyone he was a lady. And what the hell was ‘the look’ when it was at home?
He figured he’d have all day to come up with something. Sure, he could spend a little of the money he’d made from the bitch’s stuff on a few beers. Besides, he owed Kyle after his bad behaviour the other day. He knew he couldn’t apologise directly but a few beers would make it up to him he was sure.
‘What the hell are you wearing?’ Kyle said as soon as he saw him the following night. They’d met in their usual pub with plans to maybe go elsewhere later. They always had plans to go elsewhere later and never did.
‘It’s a suit,’ Oliver said.
‘We’re not at a funeral.’ Kyle was in jeans and his favourite shirt. Pretty much the same as Oliver would have normally worn. But not tonight. He had a task to complete and he’d promised himself he wouldn’t be a quitter. Well, he’d gone all out with what he had in his wardrobe.
‘I just felt like fancying it up a bit.’
‘Right. You’re on the pull, are you?’
‘It’s not the main reason but it wouldn’t be a bad thing, would it?’ Oliver asked.
‘It’s been all of three days’ mate.’
‘Yeah but…’ Oliver shrugged, he couldn’t explain what he was doing ‘I’ll get the next round shall I?’
He picked up their glasses and made his way to the bar. It wasn’t too busy but it was still early, and midweek, so he didn’t expect it to get crazy. He smiled and nodded to one or two regulars. Everyone was about as shocked as Kyle had been by his suit.
‘You been to a funeral?’ the barman asked.
‘Two beers please,’ Oliver responded, ‘and no, no funeral. Just fancied something a little different.’
‘Bit fancy for in here.’ The bartender grinned. ‘But I hear there’s a hen party coming in later so you never know…’
Oliver grinned back and paid for the drinks.
‘Apparently, there might be a hen party in later,’ he told Kyle as he sat back down.
‘Might get a bit mental then. Maybe we could go across to the Stags Head.’
‘Maybe.’ Oliver frowned and flashed what he thought was the look at a passing female.
She looked almost as surprised as he did when he realised it was Old Mrs. Greengage, out for her regular book club meeting. He’d never questioned why they met in a pub, it wasn’t his business. But he was sure she just flushed. As much as he was.
‘Mate, I know you’ve had a while off from the whole pulling scene but you might want to aim at someone a little less taken. Mr. Greengage does not look impressed by your interest in his missus,’ Kyle said.
‘Yeah, right,’ Oliver said.
He got a little pat on the shoulder as she passed on her way back to her group, which made him a little uncomfortable.
‘Think you’re in there, mate,’ Kyle chuckled.
‘Thanks.’
They fell into uncomfortable silence as they drank. This wasn’t their usual behaviour. Normally they had loads to talk about.
‘Look, don’t worry about what happened. It was all going a bit downhill anyway. She was spending heaps of my money and that was the total of the relationship. She cleaned the house a bit,’ Oliver began to explain. ‘I didn’t realise till I thought she’d pinched my money just how much it was
n’t a good relationship. We hardly ever spent time together and when we did we were shopping.’
‘You hate shopping.’
‘Exactly.’ Oliver turned and gave ‘the look’ to another passing woman. Younger this time. But other than a slight lip twitch there wasn’t much response.
He knew he wasn’t sexy, alluring, or particularly attractive. It had been a while since he’d worked out and he was more Mall Cop than The Marine. But the book said to believe he was attractive so he was trying, if not believing.
Kyle was just shaking his head when Oliver turned back. But Oliver wasn’t paying much attention to him. Over Kyle’s shoulder, he’d spotted the curvy ebony haired woman he’d had a crush on ever since the first time they came in this bar. He’d never said anything to her before but found himself grinning at her like he had no choice about it. And she was grinning back.
Even Kyle was surprised.
But then she sat down with some guy neither of them recognized and fell into a deep conversation. He looked like a tall Channing Tatum. Oliver had no chance. The more they drank the more Oliver believed in his sexy looks. It was just that the mirror wasn’t agreeing. He was starting to feel more than a little warm but if he ditched his jacket with the pocket hanky, he’d look just like everyone else in here.
‘Did you go to a funeral today?’ the ebony haired girl asked as he returned to the bar.
‘No, I just split up with my long-term girlfriend. Thought I’d wear something nice but everyone thinks I’ve been to a funeral. Maybe I should have worn the pink shirt after all,’ he said.
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