Bermuda Jones Casefiles Box Set

by Robert Enright

  Bermuda took stock of his situation, knowing full well with his imminent concussion and the eight hooded bouncers that he had no chance of running.

  All he could do was keep Tobias talking.

  And hope.

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Ah, not the best disguise, was it?’ Tobias stopped in front of Bermuda, his offset face twisted in a horrific grin. The skin dropped slightly beneath one eye, a darker grey skin evident. Behind the human teeth, a few sharper, greyer ones revealed themselves. ‘It is a little tight.’

  Bermuda watched in horror as Tobias reached a crooked hand to the back of his own head, and like a zip on the back of a dress, he pulled open his own skin. Like a peeled banana, the skin flopped over and dropped onto the floor like Bermuda’s discarded laundry. The inside was a dark red, the remnants of Tobias’s blood.

  Human blood.

  Bermuda’s mind raced back to his first case, and he shuddered at the brutality of these creatures. Fear dragged him back to his reality. The creature before him was terrifying, his razor teeth pressed together in a vicious smile.

  ‘I am General Mandrake. Commander of the Eight Warriors of the Legion. I have come to claim he who walks in both worlds.’

  Mandrake’s voice echoed powerfully, spoken with the poise of a high-ranking soldier. His face was a dirt grey, cracked with scales. The tip of his skull veered to a point and his eyes were like two yin-yang symbols pinned to the sides of his skull.

  While not as tall as Argyle, Mandrake looked just as powerful, his thick arms surrounded by impressive metal that was clearly not of Earth. His metal breast plate shimmered in the firelight, with years of war plastered across it with dents and scuffs. At his side a circular blade hung, the handle embedded within the metal to ensure the entire circumference was used.

  This was a creature of death.

  Bermuda suddenly didn’t feel like talking. Knowing that his final grains of sand were falling through the hourglass, his eyes searched the tomb, wanting to look anywhere but at the general before him. Mandrake noticed it and suddenly stood to attention, stomping his right foot on the floor.

  ‘Legion. Recognise your commander.’

  With military precision, all six creatures slid their hoods back and Bermuda’s anxiety leapt forward. The two guarding the door slid back their hoods too, the rain gently rattling against their white masks. The flames illuminated their featureless faces, their lack of detail causing the hairs on Bermuda’s neck to stand.

  With precision movements, they reached up and one by one they removed their masks. Bermuda saw them, the creatures, for the first time. Their skin, a faded grey, had the sheen of marble. Their eyes, jet-black, stared at him unblinking. A horrible gurgling sound emanated from one of them, through a vertical slit where its mouth was.

  These were clearly once feral.

  Conditioned to be soldiers, willingly or otherwise.

  Bermuda could sense the lust for his blood in the air; the piercing stare of twelve eyes shot through him and out the other side. All of them stood taller than Argyle, clad in all-black armour, a hood slung over one shoulder. All of them had the same rounded blade on their hip, a few had visible swords hanging off the other.

  All of them would slay him in a heartbeat.

  Bermuda swallowed hard, thinking of his daughter and the ever-decreasing likelihood that he would see her again.

  Now that their masks were removed, Mandrake slowly walked a lap of the tomb, the rain sneaking in through the cracks in the walls and splattering against the Legion.

  None of them even flinched.

  As their commander inspected them, they remained focused on Bermuda, who slowly started to push himself up.

  ‘I wouldn’t stand,’ Mandrake warned without turning. ‘Never interrupt the inspection. They would take it as a sign of hostility and would remove your head without thinking.’

  ‘Well, I’m feeling pretty fucking hostile right now.’

  ‘Of course.’ Mandrake returned to the centre of the tomb, a beam of moonlight shone through the rain and illuminated one side of his face, casting his monstrous shadow over Bermuda. He swung his foot forward planting it firmly against Bermuda’s chest and sending him crashing back into the stone altar.

  Bermuda groaned as he collided with the solid brick, his blood joining the collection.

  One of the Legion gurgled, the saliva in his throat rotating like a washing machine. Mandrake shook his head. Bermuda looked up at him in confusion.

  ‘He asked if he can have the honour of killing you when all this is done,’ Mandrake said dismissively. ‘I denied him.’

  ‘Why’s that then?’ Bermuda sat up, his throbbing head trying its best to give in to gravity. ‘One human enough for you?’

  ‘Tobias was regrettable. It was quick, however.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. It’s still punishable by death.’

  ‘Ah yes.’ Mandrake’s words were slightly stunted, like a tourist searching for the next word in a second language. ‘These laws that have helped govern our worlds. Let me tell you, I have lived through over a century of the BTCO and your governance. What amazes me is that you do not know the name of my world, do you? You refer to it as “the Otherside”. You don’t know the name of my kind. You label us Others.’ Mandrake squatted down, his bright eyes hooking onto Bermuda. ‘You don’t know how to deal with traitors. You hire them and call them Neithers. Never has a species been more arrogant than the species of man.’

  ‘Is that what this is all about?’ Bermuda asked, his eyes darting from one soldier to the other. ‘Your hate for humanity? No offence, buddy, but I’ve already done this dance with Barnaby.’

  Mandrake struck Bermuda with the back of his hand so fast that Bermuda was trying to figure out what hit him. The material of his glove was as coarse as sandpaper and Bermuda felt the skin ripped from his lip.

  ‘Don’t you dare speak his name,’ Mandrake hissed. ‘That creature was a treacherous disgrace who slaughtered a number of my soldiers. We spit on his memory. No, this is about taking matters into our own hands and fixing a mistake that your organisation has allowed to go on for too long.’

  Bermuda slowly pushed himself back to his knees, his eyes resting on the engravings in the stone. ‘Kevin Parker?’

  Mandrake’s laughed told him he was off. ‘His name is not Kevin Parker. His name is Caleb. And how can he be a mistake when I was the one who let him free?’

  ‘What?’ The revelation hit Bermuda like a sledgehammer to the stomach.

  ‘Caleb was imprisoned here in this very tomb. He was guarded by Tobias. It was a simple job – the restraints we placed on him were unbreakable, forged within the walls of my city. Your beloved BTCO allowed us to stash him here. Shackled in the dark. He was simply too dangerous to keep in our world.’

  ‘Due to him looking human?’ Bermuda asked, battling the striking pain in his skull for concentration.

  ‘Due to him possessing one,’ Mandrake explained. ‘Caleb was a unique creature. When he first came to this world, he carried with him a latch stone. He was soon struck by a carriage, and as he lay dying, he discovered his ability to transfer himself to a human body. A gift, unique, and one never recorded before in the history between both worlds.

  ‘Over time he learnt to control it, making the possession less destructive to the internal workings of you humans, and began to live as one of you. He killed a number of humans, but each one was a necessary step to perfecting the merge between two species. Years passed, and he became impossible to trace, your organisation failing to act. You didn’t have your precious Oracles then. Eventually he possessed a gentleman called Kevin Parker from the land of America.’

  Mandrake shook his head and stood straight again.

  Bermuda wiped a trickle of blood that ran from his busted lip. ‘Then what happened?’

  ‘He did what you humans do. He fell in love. Her name was Cynthia Blaine. She was a dancer at an establishment he frequented. No one of consequenc
e. Not then. They eventually became companions, and he lost himself to humanity. As time went by, he began to believe he existed as one of you. He was Caleb no more. They wished to begin a family, which required our interference. We took her from him.’

  ‘You killed her,’ Bermuda stated coldly. ‘You killed her and locked him up and now he is fighting back.’

  ‘Not quite. We couldn’t bring him to our world, and as this was a decommissioned BTCO gateway, we negotiated an imprisonment. When he begged me for her return, I told him he would need to bring me the heart of every woman before he would get to hers again.’ Mandrake’s hideous grin appeared again. ‘It was merely a threat. After nearly a century in the dark, I guess he ended up taking it literally. Confinement for that length of time could send even the strongest creature insane. Eventually he began to plead with me, begging me to release him so he could bring me the hearts of humans. It’s quite sad when you think about it.’

  Bermuda shook his head in disgust. ‘So you let him off the leash?’ He glared at the demon before him. ‘Why?’

  ‘We needed you here.’ Mandrake’s eyes glistened. ‘We needed to put right the mistakes that your organisation failed to act upon. So I led my squadron to your world through the decommissioned gate and killed Tobias before he could report it. But I needed a reason for them to send you to me. Therefore I released Caleb, and one request to a dear friend later, here you are.’

  Bermuda leant forward, challenging Mandrake to meet him at eye level. He accepted gleefully.

  ‘Innocent women have died because of you. Because of the monster you created and because you set him free,’ Bermuda snarled. ‘You deserve the death that they will sentence you to.’

  ‘We will end Caleb when we have finished our mission,’ Mandrake stated. ‘The blood of those women is on the hands of the BTCO and their failure to correct the mistake that will be corrected tonight.’

  ‘What fucking mistake?’ Bermuda yelled, angry as Mandrake turned his back to him.

  ‘We cannot have one who walks in both worlds.’

  ‘All of this is for me? To correct me? Well here I fucking am.’

  Mandrake turned, his eyes alive with anger. ‘Who said we were here for you?’

  Suddenly it fell into place. Bermuda fell back on his knees and stared into nothingness. He tried to recollect all the moments he had spent with Argyle, and was sure he had seen a latch stone – that Argyle needed assistance to serve in our world. As he ran through the archives of his mind, Mandrake stepped towards him, reaching down and lifting his head with a finger under the chin. His gloved touch was ice cold.

  ‘Argyle betrayed us all when he took you through that gateway.’

  Bermuda’s brow furrowed with confusion.

  ‘But we will have him back with us.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Bermuda’s brain darted in several directions, each one a different rail of thought. All he had were questions. ‘Back through the gateway? With me? What the hell are you talking about?’

  ‘Argyle was my second in command. He himself led this Legion to battle. Many have died by his watch. Whatever you see in him, whatever hero he is made out to be, there is a darkness that reached beyond any shadow of this world. Argyle is a soldier through to the core. He will have his orders from the BTCO to wait for our demands. We will trade your life for his, and once that mistake has been corrected, I will take my punishment with honour.’

  Bermuda’s head dropped in defeat. Surrounded by nine trained creatures of extreme power, he knew there was no escape. The inevitable would be a trade which would see his best friend undoubtedly murdered. The two worlds would keep spinning, with the loose ends tied up, and the truce would be one crack closer to breaking point.

  Argyle would die in his place.

  What hurt Bermuda the most was that he knew Argyle would do it willingly.

  As the rain clattered around them, the high-pitched sound of metal piercing the air grew. Suddenly a metal chain shot through the dark opening of the tomb, a brutal spike attached to the end of it. It ripped through the neck of the Legion soldier nearest to the door, bursting out of the other side and splattering its neighbour in black blood. The spike split into four and then hooked into the skin. The life drained from the soldier’s eyes.

  In an instant, the Retriever hauled the soldier out of the tomb and into a dark, wet death.

  The rest of the Legion turned, refitting their masks to their faces and drawing their weapons. Mandrake, experiencing fear for the first time, took two steps back, ensuring he was protected.

  Bermuda, with blood dripping from his mouth, smirked.

  ‘Oh, you boys are in trouble now.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The music thumped out of the speakers, drowning out any notion of conversation, as more people squeezed into Waxy O’Connor’s, a popular bar just round the corner from Queen Street Station. Six bars spread out over three floors, it was a regular drinking spot for many of Glasgow’s police officers. However, tonight, as she sat near the bar, McAllister failed to register a single recognisable face.

  Taking her spot on the quieter floor of the establishment, she marvelled at the grand building’s gothic design, the interior fitting in seamlessly with the other large, demonic structures that framed the city. With bars and balconies made of carved oak, it truly was an impressive place to drink.

  Judging by the sheer number of people downing shots and shouting over the music, she wasn’t the only one who thought so. Finishing her glass of wine, she anxiously looked at her phone. Ethan had responded, yet she still wasn’t sure how to take the first step.

  A bridge needed building; she just didn’t know how to lay the first foundation.

  With Bermuda’s words echoing in her ear, she refused the offer of a refill, instead ordering a soda water and lime. Besides, she was meant to be working. As the bartender sorted her drink, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror that ran around the back wall of the bar. Hidden between the reflections of the many bottles of different mixers, her face poked through. With her hair straightened and a bit of makeup on, she was impressed with how well she scrubbed up.

  The rose-patterned dress she wore felt uncomfortable but clung nicely to her athletic frame.

  Bermuda’s other words also hung heavy in her mind, as he had marched out of the police station earlier that evening.

  The roses.

  Sure enough, once Fowler and Strachan had retired to his office, undoubtedly for an undeserved drink and a back slap, and Butler had calmed and left for the evening, McAllister had snuck into the incident room. Every victim had a link to a rose of some description. Nicole had worn a rose on her hair clip whereas Katie Steingold had met Parker while wearing a rose-covered shirt. Rosie Seeley had been a florist and CCTV had captured Kevin Parker in her store the day of her murder, admiring the very flower. Emma Mitchell, despite being butchered half-naked in the street, had been relieved of a rose-patterned dress in her living room. Lastly, Mika, the poor foreign exchange student, had a rose-covered and blood-splattered rucksack.

  As she had run through the case files, she had sat back in amazement. Staring at the picture of Kevin Parker from the nineteen twenties, she had zeroed in on the stunning woman beside him.

  She too, wore a dress adorned with roses.

  None of it made sense, but she knew that Bermuda was right. The man who had been kicked off the case for interfering had done what none of her team could.

  He had found a link.

  She had to admit, it was a loose one, but with another woman sure to be found dead in the morning, there were no better options. Pushing the folders aside, she had rushed home, rounded up all the empty wine bottles and binned them, and then told herself it was time to change.

  It was time to control what she could.

  Then, after a quick shower, she had got ready, easing her slender frame into the dress she had worn to Ethan’s sister’s wedding three years before.

  Ethan.


  She shook her estranged husband from her mind, promising herself she would take that step the moment she put Parker behind bars. She was still slightly unsure what he was, wanting to look beyond reason and science to admit to this other world. She wanted to believe.

  One thing she knew: she trusted Bermuda.

  Despite his propensity to irritate, she felt a genuine bond with him. Usually, two broken pieces tend to fit together somehow.

  As the music thumped from the floor beneath, McAllister felt her chair rise with the beat. As she gently sipped her non-alcoholic drink, her eyes lit up. Quickly she grabbed her phone, flicking through it quickly and pressing dial.

  Her gaze locked on.

  Kevin Parker was sat across the bar.

  After several rings, she tutted as Bermuda’s bored voicemail message piped through. Staring at a violent murderer, she waited for the beep.

  ‘Hey, it’s McAllister. I reviewed the files and all of our victims were either drinking here at Waxy’s or nearby. Rosie’s flower shop is also on a surrounding street.’ She looked up; Parker hadn’t noticed her. Yet. ‘Anyway, I am at Waxy’s. Roses on. Parker is here. I am going to distract him. Get here as soon as possible.’

  McAllister stopped speaking as Parker turned and their eyes locked. She froze, captured by the genuine beauty of his face and also the terror. His eyes were dark and drilled holes through her skull as if looking right through her.

  She hung up the phone, sliding it into her bag. She looked back, and he offered her a warm smile, one she admitted would be hard to resist.

  As the music shook the building, Kevin Parker lifted himself from his stool and walked across the bar towards her, a confidence to his walk and a hidden, murderous menace that only she knew of.

  She pulled her dress down, ironing out the creases and quickly fluffing her hair. Nerves pulsed through her as if she was experiencing her first kiss all over again.

  As the murderous creature from another world took the seat next to her, she wished upon a god she had long since given up on that Bermuda checked his phone soon.