The Great Fury

by Thomas Kennedy

  “How are our commitments doing?” Morag asked anxiously.

  “Morag, the consequences of your failure were offset by our quick action in the markets. In fact we managed to end up a couple of million above breakeven on the venture,” Dutronc said.

  “I’m pleased to hear it,” Morag said.

  “You should be. It will help to mitigate your punishment.”

  “Yes sir,” Morag said meekly.

  “But that is for another day. First you must get clear of this project. Come back when you have it done please,”

  “Yes sir,” Morag said. She stood and made to leave.

  “I was worried about you,” Dutronc said.

  Morag left the room on a high. He’d never expressed concern in the past.

  Morag took a cab back to her apartment overlooking Central Park. It amused her that she was hidden in plain sight.

  The FBI still had a presence in the park near the reservoir as they continued their investigations and search for what they called the perpetrators. But the fact that they were getting nowhere and the fact that they had Deirdre to take the rap was slowly taking the heat out of the search.

  The panic room in her apartment, although designed as a bolthole for the rich in the event of a burglary, was also ideal as a prison cell. Some time back electrical contractors had transformed the electronics to her satisfaction and a hidden console in her bedroom made it possible to monitor the panic room from outside although it remained capable of monitoring the house from inside also.

  While she changed from her outdoor clothes Morag switched on the screens. In one corner Oengus sat bound in chains to hooks on the wall. In a small separate room Maedbh and Peter were bound together in an intimate position. It appeared they had gotten over their initial embarrassment and were coping well.

  Leanan was sat inside the door to the panic room area, on guard duty.

  Satisfied that all was well Morag went to meet the Greyman and Dearg Due in her lounge.

  “How did it go?” Dear due asked.

  “Very well,” Morag said with a smile. “Dutronc was sweet and kind.”

  “Unusual?” the Greyman asked suspiciously.

  “However he wants to disband the magic group,” Morag admitted. She sat and Dearg Due poured her coffee.

  “Do we do anything about that?” the Greyman asked.

  “I think we go solo,” Morag said.

  “Good thinking,” Dearg Due agreed.

  Morag drank her coffee. The Greyman preferred tea and Dearg Due had a sip of blood with sliced liver.

  “And that lady called Jane. She seemed a nice person. How did she die?” Morag asked.

  “She took it well. It was a bit surreal for her because she did not believe in vampires. However I didn’t drag it out. I thought she deserved respect. She was unlucky to have had the wrong job at the wrong time because this meant she crossed our path. But she was old enough to have had a good life,” Dearg Due explained.

  “Amen.” the Greyman said, sipping his tea.

  “I think you can take the boy Oengus,” Morag added.

  “Leanan wants vengeance,” the Greyman reminded them.

  “Yes, she can have him first,” Dearg Due agreed.

  “What about the sword. We don’t know the purpose of the sword?” the Greyman asked.

  “I think we just put it away in a vault. We don’t mess with magic we don’t understand?” Dearg Due suggested.

  “Maybe we’ll bury it with the boy,” Morag said.

  “By the way what did you do with Jane’s body?” the Greyman checked.

  “Don’t worry there are no loose ends. I dropped her into the crocodiles in the zoo. They have a few new mouths to feed since they came out of the sewers and were captured. When her clothes and purse are found with the crocodiles her name will come off the FBI missing persons list.”

  “Good,” Morag said.

  “So I’ll tell Leanan that we have carte blanche on the boy Oengus?” Dearg Due asked, standing and ready to go to the panic room.

  “You still hungry?” the Greyman asked with a grin.

  “By the time Leanan gets finished with him I will be.”

  As she spoke Dearg Due took her leave.

  “There is a loose end,” Morag continued when Dearg Due was gone.

  “Loose end?” the Greyman asked.

  “Yes that girl Nina. She was close to Hugo. There is a possibility that she could make connections to us and to Live corp. I’m afraid she has to go.”

  “I’m on it,” the Greyman said. He threw back his tea and left Morag on her own.

  Morag sat back and considered the ceiling. Things were going in the right direction, she thought. She sipped her coffee and relaxed.

  ***

  “Hi,” Leanan said.

  “Hi,” Dearg Due said from over her shoulder.

  Oengus rattled his chains as he turned to face the two women.

  “Hi,” he said weakly, wondering what would come next.

  “Time for vengeance,” Leanan said.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Oengus felt uncomfortable, stripped, his hands secured behind his back he stood in the center of the lounge in Morag’s apartment.

  Morag watched from the settee with idle interest. She was interested in a news item on television but not unwilling to see what Leanan planned for the boy.

  She noticed that the sword over the mantelpiece ceased to pulsate when the boy was brought into the room, Leanan leading him with a rope around his neck.

  “We thought you might enjoy the execution,” she’d announced.

  Morag made a mental note to ask further about the sword, but maybe later after a period of torture.

  “Interesting news item,” Oengus said.

  “Pay attention,” Leanan said, slapping his face.

  “Flea population in New York?” Morag replied with a smile, adding, “It seems the little predators are increasing greatly in number. I must get in some flea DDT in case they spread to the better side of the city.”

  “Good thinking,” Dearg Due agreed.

  “Remember what Deirdre foretold. We eliminated the larger predators when she contaminated the sewers. There’s nothing to eat whatever eats the fleas and other insects,” Leanan said.

  Morag liked the relaxed attitude of the boy. Most people were terrified when faced with being tortured to death and having their blood sucked by a vampire. And he was prepared to listen to the TV news.

  “Listen, I appreciate you two letting me watch the execution process but I have things to do,” Morag said, trying not to sound ungracious.

  “Like watching TV?” Leanan asked in peeved tones.

  Morag stood. “I’ve got to get in the weekly shop and I have to make a hair appointment. I’ll be back shortly. Try not to get blood on the carpet. And I’d recommend that you cut his vocal cords, we don’t want the neighbors hearing him scream.”

  “No worry, we’ll gag him. I like screams,” Leanan said. “He should be alive for a few hours.”

  “Good, then I’ll be back for the finale,” Morag said and walked into the bedroom to change her clothes before going out.

  “Oengus, you heard her. Scream very loud and we cut your vocal cords,” Leanan threatened.

  Leanan began by getting Oengus to kneel. Then she began to massage his bare shoulders. Normally this would induce a major depression and suicidal tendencies in her victims.

  “Listen if he is depressed his bloods will be down. Can’t you just do something painful instead,” Dearg Due asked, having taken up Morag’s position on the couch.

  “Like, what would you suggest?” Leanan asked.

  “Maybe cut little pieces off him with the sword. Or maybe a good beating to
tenderize the flesh. That would make him more tasty.”

  Leanan inspected the sword over the fireplace. Underneath Morag had stuck a copper plate with the words, ‘The Great Fury’.

  “No, not the sword,” she decided. “It has magic provenance. I don’t think we should touch it.”

  Morag stuck her head in on her way out.

  “Before you cut his vocal cords, talk to him about the sword,” she asked. “Draw him out and see if there is anything he can tell us he hasn’t already told us.”

  “See you later,” Dearg Due said.

  “Bring some yogurt,” Leanan asked.

  “Won’t be long,” Morag promised.

  “What about that sword Oengus?” Leanan asked.

  “My mother told me I was the God of Insignificant Things and sent me to get the sword,” Oengus explained.

  He was determined to maintain focus and overcome the flood of depression that Leanan’s touch had brought into his consciousness. Memories of lonely childhood days, rejection by the local children were flooding his brain and his self-confidence was waning.

  “What sort of insignificant things had she in mind?” Dearg Due asked.

  “Take fleas,” Oengus offered. “They are bloodsuckers and could be called vampires.”

  “True and you are right they are insignificant in a vampire sense,” Dearg Due said and Leanan smiled in agreement.

  Leanan rummaged in Morag’s writing desk and with a grunt of satisfaction she found a sewing basket. Small, neat but with all the requirements including two small scissors and lots of pins and needles.

  “What about this?’ she asked.

  “Looks good,” Dearg Due agreed. “We can discuss where to put the pins and needles.”

  Oengus swallowed his fear and continued.

  “Because I figured that you would think they were insignificant I concentrated on fleas. Interesting that the TV news also mentioned them,” he explained.

  Leanan began to lay out the contents of the sewing basket on the coffee table. She was gently humming a song, ‘where shall I begin...’

  Dearg Due looked sharply at Oengus. Clearly he was telling them something, but what?

  “What about the fleas?” Leanan asked absentmindedly.

  “Well,” Oengus said, “if I am the God of Inconsequential Things and I have been calling them since dawn, it should happen that they will come pouring in through the air conditioning in the second you begin to torture me. That was my request.”

  “Ha!,” Leanan said. “Nice try. I know a bit about acupuncture and I can arrange ten needles in the most painful way possible. You won’t believe how awful this will be Oengus.”

  “Why?” Oengus asked. “Why do this? After all you kissed me. It’s not my fault that you feel rejected. I know about rejection. It’s something one has to learn to cope with.”

  “Sorry, I’m not interested in discussion. For me this will be fun. For you it will be hell.”

  Leanan applied the first needle to an artery vein in Oengus’s arm. It hurt but was not terrible.

  “The pain builds,” Leanan explained to Dearg Due.

  “Don’t waste his blood and remember what Morag said about the carpet.”

  “Don’t worry, he won’t bleed much. It’s just painful.”

  They began in ones and twos and then a flood. Fleas poured out of the air conditioning vent. Leanan froze in amazement a long darning needle in each hand.

  Dearg Due made a quick decision. She threw the coffee table into the double glazed window. As it smashed she took off as a bat, out and downtown as fast as she could move.

  One flea takes a little blood but millions take a lot. Leanan disappeared screaming under a foaming mass of fleas. Then after a period of heaving under the mass of fleas, she was still and silent.

  The fleas formed a circle around Oengus. He made a face in distaste. But the fleas kept a respectful distance.

  “Go now,” he said and they went. They poured back into the air conditioning and dispersed.

  “Phew,” Oengus said. Carefully, using his teeth he plucked the needle out of his arm. It hurt and he bled a little and then it congealed.

  Oengus wondered what to do next. He was naked and tied in a living room. He looked at the scissors and sewing materials scattered around the floor. The scissors were too small but might work, he decided.

  Then his eye caught the sword.

  “Come here,” he said, more in hope than in expectation.

  In a moment the sword was in his right hand, scabbard still on the wall.

  Oengus maneuvered and stuck the sword into the couch. then bracing himself he sawed the ropes off his wrists. When they fell away he stood and stretched.

  He went and took the scabbard off the wall. As he took it down he heard a noise of keys in a lock. Morag! he thought, and cast about. He decided to crouch behind the couch.

  Morag came in and when she saw the shattered window she carefully put her shopping on the ground being careful not to break the eggs. She liked to buy free-range eggs but they came loose in a brown paper bag.

  Morag walked carefully around the desiccated corpse of Leanan, making a face in distaste. A few stray fleas hopped about the floor. Morag was pleased she’d bought some flea powder.

  She sensed Oengus’s presence before she saw him rise up from behind the couch. Immediately Morag cast an immobilization spell.

  The spell seemed to get sucked into the sword Oengus had in his hand.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Should you be wandering around naked?’ Morag asked.

  “Sorry,” Oengus said with a mild blush.

  Morag was upset to find the sword also absorbed her ‘turn onto a frog’ spell.

  “Some sword,” she said.

  “Apparently it is used to combat evil,” Oengus said.

  “What are you?” Morag asked.

  She sat on a chair, mainly to relax Oengus but she was tense and alert and looking for a way to win out or get out.

  “I’m the God of Insignificant Things and apparently now the owner of this sword,” Oengus explained ruefully.

  “You kidding me?” Morag asked.

  “If you are evil and I believe you are, I should kill you with this sword,” Oengus said.

  “Have you ever killed anyone?” Morag asked mildly.

  “No.”

  “Don’t start, it’s bad for the character.”

  Oengus smiled. “Sometimes circumstances dictate,” Oengus said with regret in his tone.

  “You won’t save your Maedbh if you kill me,” Morag said.

  “Where is she?” he asked.

  “Me to know and you to find out. She’s not here. She’s in a safe place.”

  “And that man Peter and the woman Jane?”

  “Jane is deceased but Peter is alive and well. He and Maedbh are an item.”

  “An item?”

  “Fond of each other Oengus.”

  “Any other negotiation points?’ Oengus asked.

  “Nina, you know Hugo’s girlfriend?”

  “Yes.”

  “She is in mortal danger.”

  Oengus felt his gut tighten in anxiety but he tried not to let it show. He knew this was out of his depth. He had no experience to deal with situations like this. He wondered should he just chop off her head. But she’d resist and then he might not have at the nerve to finish her.

  Morag sensed him waver. “Put the sword down and we can talk,” she said gently.

  “Down?”

  “Sit on the couch and put the sword back in its scabbard and within your reach. I’ll stay sitting over here.”

  “OK,” Oengus agreed.

  He moved carefully and sat.

&nbs
p; “I have your clothes and things in a cabinet,” Morag said to relax him further.

  “Good,” Oengus said and putting the sword into its scabbard he placed it close beside him on the couch.

  Morag held her breath as his hand came away from the sword. It pulsated and then was still, looking like an old antique, its power at rest.

  She threw her best strongest immobilization spell. It left her feeling exhausted but she did not hold back.

  Oengus realized he couldn’t move. He tried to reach the sword but the Great Fury did not respond. He tried to call it but his vocal cords were stuck.

  Morag walked over and took the sword and scabbard.

  She opened the wall safe and put it in, closed the door and turned the dial to lock the combination.

  “Now, now,” she said, and stroked Oengus on the head.

  “A silver chain,” she thought aloud. “That’s what I need.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The Greyman was difficult to see against a concrete wall in the semi gloom. With his mist of a grey cloak swirling about he was there but not there.

  He watched and waited. Patience was his game. Murder was his intention. Nina was his target.

  Nina was sitting on a bench in a playground watching the remains of what used to be Hugo’s gang playing basketball in the square of tar-macadam beside Nina’s apartment block.

  The Greyman cursed under his breath. He was pleased to have found Nina but he needed her to be alone.

  His eyes narrowed as he took in Nina throwing a tennis ball to a young poodle that ran yapping and retrieved the ball. The cat in Nina’s lap watched the proceedings with a disdainful look on her face.

  Nina was tense. The cat had explained the plan. We must find Oengus and we must find the sword,” he’d croaked.

  “The sword?” she’d asked.

  “The Great Fury, that’s the name of the sword. Oengus came for the sword and now his enemies have it. Maybe it’s the solution to our problems.”

  Puca came back and dropped the tennis ball.

  “Do another sniff around the perimeter,” Venus growled.

  Puca cocked his head. He was having fun chasing the ball. But he knew who was boss.

  “I hope this is not a waste of time,” Nina said as she stroked Venus. Venus purred contentedly. It was nice and cozy on Nina’s lap and Venus had angled herself for optimum view towards the main approach to the playground.