Medium Dead

by Chris Dolley

  But Brenda still had her doubts. “What if the police don’t arrest them?”

  “Then we follow the trail of mayonnaise back to the gang’s hideout.”

  Brenda had to laugh. “I’m being serious,” she said, playfully punching his arm.

  “So am I. Look, we’ve got both bases covered. If they get arrested, someone’s going to bail them out or send in a lawyer. We follow that lead back to the gang leader and knock on his door as detectives investigating today’s disturbance. If they don’t get arrested, then the two thugs’ll lead us back to the gang leader’s door. Same door, same result. We’re police detectives investigating a disturbance outside Cassini’s convenience store. I’ll drop Mary Alice’s name into the questioning, probe for a reaction and – voilà – we move the case forward.”

  “Do I get a say in what I wear this time?”

  “Of course.”

  “And you’re not touching my boobs.”

  Brian raised his hands. “Hell forfend.”

  Brenda was still smiling when they turned into the alley and noticed a large black town car parked behind the dumpster. They both stopped. The car windows were black. They couldn’t see inside.

  “Crap.”

  Brian’s voice was the last thing Brenda heard before pain exploded at the back of her head and everything went black.

  Chapter Eleven

  Brenda drifted towards consciousness. Patches of light and dark swam in front of her eyes, pain stabbed at the back of her head, her arms ached, and someone was calling her name.

  Except it wasn’t her name. It was Harriet Vane’s.

  “That’s your name,” said a voice. An English voice. “You’re Harriet Vane and I’m Peter.”

  Peter? Lord Peter? Suddenly she was on the beach, running barefoot across the sand. Or was it through a meadow? She could feel grass between her toes, see cornflowers and poppies and ... was that him? Lord Peter? In the distance running towards her. His blond hair teased by the wind, his monocle glinting in the sunlight...

  “Peter,” she gasped.

  “Yes, Mom,” said Brian.

  Reality hit Brenda like a jet-propelled brick. Away went the sun swept meadow, away went Lord Peter Wimsey, and in came bare concrete and broken glass, the sound of dripping water, and the smell of dust and decay. She was in what looked like an abandoned warehouse. Tied to a wooden chair, her arms bound behind her, her feet tied at the ankles. A man stood in front of her, staring. A man in his fifties, bald, overweight, shiny silk suit, cruel eyes. He was leaning forward, looking into her face. Two men stood further back, one black, one white, both huge, both standing impassive, watching. Brian was a few feet to her right, bound to an identical chair. He was still a teenager.

  He turned his face towards her and beamed her an update. ‘We’re experiencing the hospitality of Big Nose’s boss a little earlier than planned. His name’s Bruno Abbiati and he’s not best pleased.’

  Bruno Abbiati leaned closer and slapped her. Not a hard slap – more of a ‘waking up the drowsy prisoner’ kind of slap.

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  Brian’s voice sounded inside her head. ‘You’re Harriet Vane and I’m your son, Peter – your love child from a dalliance with an English Aristocrat.’

  Brenda closed her eyes. Oh, crap.

  “Hey, I’m talking to you.”

  Another slap, harder this time.

  “I’m Harriet Vane,” she said, glancing down at her dress, wondering if Brian had shapeshifted her into a 1930’s heroine in tweeds and brogues.

  He hadn’t. The same mutant curtain spawn radiated back at her, threatening to burn out both retinas. And what had happened to her protective shield? Why was she being slapped?

  ‘I can’t shield you at the moment,’ said Brian.

  What? Brenda heart skipped several beats. She was tied up in an abandoned warehouse, about to have bamboo shoots shoved under her fingernails, and now she had no shield!

  “Who sent you?” asked the bald man.

  Brenda ignored him. She had a far more pressing question of her own. ‘Why can’t you shield me?’ she asked Brian.

  ‘Because if his hand bounces off an invisible force field he’ll notice.’

  ‘Then deflect his hand like you did with Big Nose.’

  ‘It’s not the right time.’

  ‘Not the right time!’ She was incensed.

  And, a second later, slapped.

  “Ow!” She turned on Abbiati, scowling. “Will you stop doing that.”

  “Who sent you?”

  ‘Well?’ she asked Brian. ‘Who sent me? Or isn’t it the right time to answer that either?’

  “Daddy sent us,” shouted Brian. “I already said.”

  “Shut up, kid. I told you one more word out of you and I’m going to let Dwayne break both your legs. Understand?”

  Brian nodded and sent a thought to Brenda. ‘Whatever you say, keep mentioning Daddy and Mary Alice and watch for a reaction. I can’t read this man’s mind.’

  ‘You can’t read his mind?’

  ‘No. It’s shielded somehow. I’ve never seen anything like it.’

  Oh, great. She had no protective shield. A bamboo manicure was imminent, and now the gang’s boss had superpowers. He might even be a demon.

  The bald supervillain grabbed hold of Brenda’s face, digging his fingers and thumb into her cheeks, and jerked her head round to face him.

  “Who sent you?”

  “Who do you think sent me?” she snapped, playing for time. What was she going to tell him? And what if he could read her mind?

  ‘He can’t read our minds,’ said Brian. ‘If he could, he’d have reacted by now.’

  Brenda looked into Abbiati’s eyes, waiting for a reaction. “Daddy sent me,” she said.

  She saw impatience give way to anger. “Who the fuck is this Daddy? What’s his name?”

  “That is his name. At least that’s what he calls himself. He said he wanted another little girl.”

  Was that a reaction? It was difficult to tell. Abbiati looked surprised, but it looked more like puzzled surprise than shock.

  “What little girl?”

  “Mary Alice something. He said you’d know.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  There was anger in his voice. Confusion, impatience, frustration. But no guilt. No telltale sign of recognition.

  Brian added a nudge of his own. “Mary Alice Cassini,” he said.

  This time there was recognition.

  “The storekeeper’s daughter?”

  “That’s right. Daddy wants another one just like her.”

  Abbiati turned and looked at his men. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”

  Both shrugged. Then one spoke. “They were at Cassini’s store today.”

  “That’s right,” said Abbiati turning back to Brenda. “Did Frank set this up?”

  “Who’s Frank?” said Brenda. “Daddy told us you were the one to see. He wants you to find him another sacrifice.”

  “Sacrifice?”

  More brow furrowing. Either he was a very good actor, or he really had no idea what Brenda was talking about.

  “That’s the message he gave us.”

  Abbiati stood up and shook his head.

  “If you had a message for me why didn’t you come and see me? Why all that shit with my boys outside Cassini’s?”

  ‘I think it’s time to teleport out,’ said Brenda. ‘I’ve run out of names to drop and things can only go downhill from here.’

  ‘There’s too many witnesses,’ said Brian.

  ‘He’s a demon! He doesn’t count.’

  ‘All the more reason not to tip our hand. He might be able to come after us.’

  Shit! She hadn’t thought of that. Abbiati might be able to teleport after them. He might be stronger than Brian. He might...

  Slap!

  “I asked you a question! Why all that shit outside Cassini’s?”

&nbs
p; “They wouldn’t let me join your gang,” said Brian. “There wouldn’t have been any trouble if they’d said yes.”

  A small vein in Abbiati’s left temple throbbed into prominence.

  “Dwayne, break one of his arms.”

  He kept his eyes on Brenda, not a single glance to his right as his minion strode forward to grab hold of Brian’s left arm. He just watched her, the edges of his mouth curling into a self-satisfied smirk. “Well?” he asked. “Are you going to answer now?”

  Brenda’s brain atrophied. What could she say? She’d dug herself into a cesspit of a conversation with no hint of a way out.

  ‘Get him angry,’ said Brian. ‘I don’t know if he’s a demon or not. Or how he maintains that shield. But it may be something that requires concentration so break that concentration and maybe I can read him.’

  Dwayne worked at the knot securing Brian’s hands. Abbiati continued to smirk.

  And Brenda tried hard to keep herself together. Brian had assured her he was the only demon on the planet. What else had he got wrong? Shouldn’t they be looking for a way to withdraw and regroup?

  ‘Can’t you throw your voice?’ she asked Brian. ‘Make a noise outside? Something to make them go outside and look. Then we can teleport out without any danger of being seen or followed.’

  ‘We’ve got to find out more about Abbiati. I’ll protect you.’

  ‘What if he’s more powerful than you?’

  Brian didn’t answer. The rope securing his hands fell to the floor. Dwayne grabbed Brian’s left wrist and twisted it, straightening the arm and pulling it up and back. It looked excruciating.

  “Don’t worry, Mom,” said Brian. “I can take it. You wait. These guys’ll see how hard I am and they’ll have to let me join their gang.”

  “Well?” said Abbiati, staring into Brenda’s eyes. “I’m waiting. One word from me and Dwayne will snap the brat’s arm in two.”

  Brenda closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and came out fighting. Trailer Park Mom From Hell Part Two: The Teenage Years.

  “Go on then,” she said. “I double dare you.”

  Abbiati’s smirk melted, the ends of his mouth curled down. His eyes widened.

  “What?” she said. “Cat got your tongue? Go on Dwayne, snap away. Baldy’s getting squeamish.”

  Abbiati recovered his composure. “Break it,” he said, locking his eyes on Brenda. Brenda stared back, tilting her head to one side, and crossing her eyes.

  There was a grunt from Dwayne and a large amount of straining, which Brenda could just see out of the corner of her less crossed eye.

  “He’s doing it all wrong,” said Brian in a whiny-teenager-knows-best voice. “He’ll never break anything like that.”

  “You only employ amateurs, Baldy?” asked Brenda. “You get a job lot off the internet?”

  Baldy broke eye contact with Brenda and straightened up.

  “What’s taking so long?” he snapped at Dwayne, who was straining so hard his face was contorting and reddening under the strain.

  “I’d’ve used a baseball bat,” said Brian. “And look.” He waved his right hand. “He’s left my other hand free. I could be doing anything with it.”

  “Michael!” Abbiati called over his other minion.

  “I’d phone out for some more,” said Brenda. “You three pussies are no match for a fourteen year-old.”

  Abbiati was close to apoplectic. He grabbed Brenda by the face again, digging his fingernails deep into her cheek and yanking her face towards him. “I haven’t started with you yet.” He shoved her face away. “When I’ve finished, your own mother won’t recognize you.”

  “She never could. Bad eyesight. That and the drink.”

  The inner Brenda crossed herself. Bad mouthing a mob boss and potential demon was bad enough, but her mother? That was asking for trouble. Brenda’s mother had a sixth sense. She’d know exactly what Brenda had said. She was a walking guilt detector who could read her daughter like a large print book.

  Slap!

  That one really stung. Abbiati was putting considerably more meat into his swing.

  Brenda smiled back, wondering how much more she could take. And what if he started using magic on her? He could be holding back like Brian. Fearful of witnesses. But if she pushed him too far...

  ‘Is he angry enough yet?’ she asked. ‘He looks angry.’

  ‘If he was going to use magic against you, he’d have done so by now,’ said Brian. ‘It’s his interrogation. His rules. There’s no need for him to hold back. He can send his men outside any time he wants.’

  ‘Yes, but is he angry enough yet? Are you reading him at all?’

  Brian didn’t answer. Both minions were busy with his left arm. Both straining and both failing to make any headway.

  “You’re still doing it all wrong,” said Brian, his voice portraying no sign of pain or fear. “You need to focus the pressure on a single point. Try one of my fingers. You might find it easier.”

  “Shut up!” shouted Dwayne, the sweat beading on his forehead and dripping from his nose.

  Abbiati’s eyes darted between Brenda and the huffing and puffing to his right. He balled his fists. It was a toss up who he was going to hit first. Brenda, Brian, or one of his minions.

  Brenda helped make up his mind. “Hey, Curly,” she said. “Tell Larry and Moe to hurry it up.”

  Abbiati lost it. His whole head went red. He stabbed a finger at Brenda, spitting out the words.

  “You think this a joke? You think this is a fucking joke? You’ve just signed both your death warrants, you dumb bitch.”

  “Oh noes,” said Brenda, slipping into lol-speak. “I can haz ghost?”

  Abbiati’s head discovered a hitherto unknown shade of red. He spluttered, words simmering in his throat. His index finger continued to stab through the air. Then back came a semblance of control. His face set, he turned to his men and shouted.

  “Leave it! Both of you. Dwayne, tie him up. Michael, with me.”

  Abbiati stormed off towards the outside door. Michael hurried after him.

  “We’ll see if you’re still laughing in five minutes,” Abbiati shouted over his shoulder.

  ‘Great,’ said Brenda. ‘Tell me you read his mind. I don’t think I can get him any angrier.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Brian. ‘I don’t know how he’s maintaining it.’

  Brenda closed her eyes. If her feet hadn’t been bound, she’d have kicked something – probably Brian.

  Brian’s chair scraped against the rough concrete as Dwayne yanked Brian’s arms behind the back of the chair.

  “You think you’re funny, kid? You wait ‘til we’ve finished with you.”

  He wrapped a cord tight around Brian’s wrists and lashed them to the chair back.

  ‘Okay,’ said Brenda. ‘This has gone far enough. Distract the goon and let’s get out of here.’

  ‘No. We haven’t finished. I’ve got to break through that shield.’

  ‘How? I’ve got him as angry as a person can get without spontaneously combusting. He’s coming back to kill us and – oh, yes – I don’t have a protective shield!’

  ‘You will when you need it.’

  ‘I need it! Like I needed it in the alley when I got whacked from behind!’

  ‘I wasn’t expecting it then. I am now.’

  Dwayne walked between them, brushing against Brenda’s left shoulder as he took up his old position standing guard about ten yards in front of them.

  Brenda ignored him. She was too busy arguing with Brian.

  ‘It’s okay for you. You don’t need a shield. You’re immortal.’

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘Um ... your head comes off? I’d call that a give-away.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean I can’t be killed some other way.’

  What? Brenda turned to stare at him. Was he joking? ‘You can be killed? How?’

  ‘Do you know, I’ve found it an extraordinary good policy never to
divulge that information.’

  That was all Brenda needed. ‘Teleport us out now! You can come back later and investigate as much as you like. By yourself.’

  ‘We might never find him again. He might go into hiding.’

  ‘We could get killed!’

  A shadow cut into the rectangle of light that was the door to the outside. Abbiati and Michael had returned. Michael was carrying something large and red. Brenda screwed up her eyes and peered. It looked like a gas can.

  ‘Oh,’ said Brian, sounding worried. ‘You know I was saying earlier about how I could be killed?’

  Brenda froze. ‘Fire? You can be killed by fire?’

  He didn’t answer.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘Teleport now!’ Brenda shouted. This had gone far enough.

  ‘Just a little longer,’ said Brian. ‘I have a plan.’

  ‘So’ve I. It’s called: Get the hell out now.’

  ‘Which we’ll implement the moment my plan’s finished. We’ve got minutes before Abbiati’s going to do anything.’

  Brenda hung her head. What could she do? Brian had all the magic. If he didn’t want to teleport, she couldn’t force him. But if his plan involved her getting anyone angry...

  ‘Don’t worry. This one’s all me. I need to get Abbiati to touch me.’

  Brenda lifted her head. ‘Then what? You’re going to teleport him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Shapeshift him?’

  ‘No.’

  “You look worried, Harriet,” said Abbiati. “Have you come to your senses at last?”

  Brenda took a deep breath. Watch this for teamwork. “Okay,” she said. “You were right, Mr. Abbiati. We were paid a thousand dollars each to bait your guys this morning. I never saw the guy, but Peter did.”

  “Mo-om!”

  “We’ve got to tell him, Peter. He’s going to kill us otherwise.”

  For the first time that morning Abbiati looked pleased. He walked over to Brian and stopped a yard in front of him. “What’s the guy’s name?” he asked.

  “If I tell you will you let me be in your gang?” said Brian.

  “Of course.”

  “Can I have his job?” said Brian, nodding at Dwayne. “I can break arms much better than he can.”