Mammon

by J. B. Thomas

  ‘You must not let the guilt take over, Joe,’ Utu said.

  Joe drew a deep breath and nodded. ‘Mammon asked me to open a rift last night.’

  ‘No!’ Grace said. ‘You didn’t, did you?’

  He threw her an angry look. ‘Of course not!’

  ‘What did he say it was for?’ said Ivan. ‘He cannot have given you the real reason.’

  ‘He suggested we bring through demons from the hell world and kill them. To stop the demon Scourges once and for all.’

  Ivan rubbed his forehead. ‘He wants to bring through an army.’ He drew a deep breath. ‘I’m very, very glad you didn’t help him, Joe.’

  ‘There’s more. Last night when I opened that rift and pushed Malcolm inside, I really wanted to kill him. Utu told me that I opened a Dark Rift.’

  Grace and Ivan looked at Utu. The priest nodded. ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Malcolm saw Shadows coming at him, remember?’ Joe glanced around the group. ‘That means that I came close to helping Mammon last night. His army would have gone through – and it would have been all my fault.’

  ‘But you didn’t,’ said Grace, touching his arm. ‘That’s all that matters right now.’

  ‘And we are all the wiser,’ Ivan added. He folded his arms and sat back in his chair. ‘We know that if you are angry, you bring on a dark, dangerous rift that links to the demon world.’ His eyes twinkled as he considered the possibilities. ‘While that could work to our advantage, we need to learn to harness that anger first.’

  Utu nodded. ‘Exactly.’

  ‘But what are we going to do now?’ Joe jumped up, his eyes shining with renewed vigour. ‘I want to take Mammon down.’ His eyes met Utu’s. ‘I know where to find him – and we could move now.’

  Ivan held up his hand. ‘You need some more practice with rift accuracy, my cookie cutter. Remember the garage?’

  Joe grinned and scratched his head. ‘I can make one hell of a mess, can’t I?’

  ‘Anyway, I daresay Mammon will have returned to land by now,’ said Utu. ‘This will take planning and a calm approach.’

  ‘We can take him,’ Joe said. ‘I haven’t seen him do anything special. Really, he’s just a man when you think about it.’

  ‘You know that’s not true, Joe.’ Grace looked at Utu. ‘Is it?’

  The old priest smiled. ‘Mammon is not just a man, Joe. He hides his essence well. And that essence is deadly, if unleashed. He is dangerous, not just because of his capacity for physical violence – but because he has wrought a massive influence over the planet for many centuries. He has more followers than you can imagine. That is where the danger lies.’

  ‘Can we really kill him? If he’s been around that long?’

  ‘Grace, there is no such thing as coincidence. You, Joe and Ivan found each other; now you form a powerful circle: Warrior, Seer, Ferryman. You will overcome the high demon. But you must be faithful in your abilities and ready to adapt, to change.’ He held up two amulets and passed one to Grace, the second to Ivan.

  Grace stared at her amulet. It was an emerald circle and, like Joe’s, inside lay a small piece of wood.

  Ivan held up his amulet and whistled. ‘Diamond,’ he said.

  Utu smiled. ‘Now you can all proudly claim that you have a significant piece of Utu’s Chair.’

  All three looked at him curiously.

  Utu smiled. ‘Back in the old days, during my early visits from Marduk, I would sit in this chair – made by my father from the wood of an olive tree. Marduk’s presence always left residual power in the room, and the chair seemed to retain it the most. These amulets have great power – far more than your guardians’ pendants. Theirs contain only small shards of this, the original wood.’

  ‘Ferryman power,’ Joe whispered.

  Utu caught the glint in Joe’s eye and gave him a stern look. ‘Humility and temperance, Joseph.’

  Joe’s face turned red. ‘Sorry.’

  Grace ran her fingers over her amulet. ‘Will there ever be a time when there aren’t any demons on Earth?’

  Utu gave her a long look. ‘Consider this. Demonic energy exists over the world like an unseen blanket. It is everywhere. There is nowhere it cannot go. Where does it come from? Some say that humans generate it; others claim it seeps in from other dimensions. Slowly – and not necessarily through a rift. For as long as that energy is allowed to exist, for as long as humans draw it, attract it, and eventually absorb it – there Mammon will be.’

  ‘But,’ said Grace, ‘if there’s bad energy, surely there’s good energy too.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘And if there are demons . . . ’

  ‘There must be angels?’ Utu gave her a sad smile. ‘I’m afraid not. At least, not the kind that you like to imagine. It would be wonderful, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘We can’t expect any help? It’s all up to us?’ Grace’s shoulders slumped. Exhaustion hit as she mulled over the prospect. They couldn’t do it alone.

  ‘There are some who will help. But human beings must change if they want to see the day when no more Scourges afflict the world.’ Utu wrapped his robes around him.

  ‘Now, you three need to go home. Safe journey – and may you win this fight and return to a life of peace and serenity.’ He bowed.

  ‘Till next time, then,’ Joe added.

  The old priest watched them move away. ‘Oh . . . Joe?’

  Joe turned his head. ‘Yes?’

  Utu’s eyes twinkled. ‘When you meet the high demon again, please give him my regards.’

  THE YOUNG NURSE tipped a handful of pills into a plastic cup. ‘Here you are.’ She gave the patient a smile as he took the cup and swallowed its contents. ‘And a chaser.’ She passed him a glass of water. The patient took a sip; the glass hovered in his hand just below his chin. The nurse reached over and caught the glass just as it slipped from his fingers.

  He stared off into the ocean, his eyes flat and dull.

  How did he get here? When did he get here? He remembered firing at Callahan. Damn Ivan for getting in the way. It wasn’t what he’d wanted.

  No room for guilt.

  The pills numbed things a little. But they couldn’t stop the nightmares.

  The nurse patted his shoulder as she moved away.

  Malcolm’s arms dropped to his sides. The tide was beginning its nightly invasion of the shore. Soon the pale sands would be sodden – and by morning, strewn with light green shards of seaweed and some stringy brown matter. There’d be shells, too. As a child, he’d loved the rare morning walks at the sea’s edge. Especially collecting the shells, cuttlefish and other items cast over the sand by the relentless tides.

  But there was no joy in this beach.

  Hibiscus Retreat, on an island eighteen kilometres off the Border City coast. A mass of Bali-style bungalows, mini waterfalls and plunge pools. But Malcolm knew a loony bin when he saw one.

  The doctor had advised him to expect an indefinite stay.

  * * *

  IT WAS ALMOST midnight when Sheree did her last round. Everyone was asleep – nice and calm for the handover. She passed Malcolm’s room and gave an approving nod at his still figure. She walked on. A sudden gust of wind hit her back. She turned to see a flashing of light bounce off Malcolm’s door.

  She ran back into the room and fell to her knees with a terrified howl. She clamped her hands to her ears as the noise penetrated her eardrums, stinging them. The patient was lying flat on his back – she could not tell if he was awake, although surely he had to be – for the massive, black cloud hanging above his bed was emitting screeching sounds and flashing shards of blinding light, shaking the whole room.

  * * *

  MALCOLM.

  He woke with a start, his eyes doing a wild scan of the
room, sweat lining his brow.

  Two men were standing by his bed, smiling in that false, manipulative way of psychiatrists.

  With a deep breath, Malcolm lifted himself on his elbows and sat up. ‘I was wondering when someone would come to see me.’ He watched the men pull up two chairs – one on either side of him. The younger man sat closer, the older man must have been the note-taker.

  ‘Sheree told you about my nightmare?’ His eyes flickered up to the ceiling. But was it really a dream? ‘The pills don’t work. You’ll have to up the dose.’ He eyed the younger man with vague interest. ‘You’re well-dressed for a doctor. Did they drag you away from the theatre?’

  Mammon smiled at Malcolm. ‘Hello.’

  Malcolm coughed and took a sip of water. ‘Who are you guys?’

  ‘I’m an interested friend,’ said Mammon. ‘I’m aware that you opened a rift tonight.’

  ‘Who told you?’

  Mammon nodded at Halphas. ‘My associate here. He, too, is gifted.’

  Halphas grinned at his Master’s praise. ‘You have an amazing power, Malcolm, and we want to help you use it.’

  Malcolm tilted his head and gave Mammon an appraising stare. ‘You know, if it weren’t for the fact that you look perfectly normal to me, I would have sworn you were a demon.’

  Mammon laughed. ‘I’d like you to use your special talent to help me with an important project.’

  ‘I’m not stupid, you know. I realise what you’re talking about.’

  Mammon clasped his hands in a prayer-like gesture. ‘Of course. I apologise. You’re a bright young man and you deserve a great opportunity. If you help me by opening a rift, I will make sure you get everything you want. Everything!’

  Malcolm’s gaze darted between the two men. ‘You’re not mercenaries.’

  ‘No.’

  He lay back on his pillow and examined his fingernails. ‘Rifts are used for one thing – sending demons back to hell. Nobody in his right mind would try to reverse the process. So why are you asking me to? Unless . . .’ He gave Mammon a long look. ‘Unless you’re a demon yourself.’

  Mammon tutted. ‘What a preposterous idea! I’m not a demon. I’m a being who likes this world. Do demons like humanity? I am nothing more than a man. A man who looks after his friends, Malcolm.’

  Halphas nodded.

  Malcolm smiled, wagging his finger at Mammon. ‘The trouble with people is they underestimate my intelligence. So tell me: how do you hide your Shadow? You must be quite skilled.’ He pressed his finger to his lips. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have a problem with it. It’s quite amazing, really.’

  ‘I can offer you a prosperous future, Malcolm. Recognition and power beyond your imagining.’

  ‘I’m not a Ferryman. I can’t promise that I will be able to do it again. I don’t know how it happened, to be honest. Maybe I dreamed it. But if it’s real, when Joe pushed my head inside the rift, perhaps that triggered something.’

  Mammon nodded. ‘You opened a powerful rift. Its energy practically smashed into my yacht. I can help you to control the rift. All you need to do is get it going. You start the engine, I fuel it.’

  Malcolm scowled. ‘You don’t understand. I didn’t try to open the rift. It just occurred by itself. I was having a bad dream when it came.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t even know if I could do it again.’

  Mammon leaned forward and clasped his fingers together. ‘I’d like to give you the benefit of the doubt.’ He glanced at Malcolm’s bedside table, which was conspicuously bare of flowers and cards. ‘You haven’t had any visitors, have you? None of them have bothered to come and see you.’

  Malcolm curled his lip. ‘So?’

  ‘Do you plan to go home to them?’

  ‘In about a hundred years, when they let me go.’ Malcolm rubbed his hands across his face.

  ‘I can offer you immediate freedom. To walk out of this place and into a life of luxury, privilege and power you cannot yet comprehend.’

  Malcolm looked at his mercenary shirt, hanging over a chair. That crest no longer meant anything to him. ‘I only want one thing. To burn Renfield to its foundations and all the human vermin that live inside it.’

  Mammon nodded, eyes flashing. ‘Consider it done.’

  ‘But I want my father to be kept alive.’

  ‘Of course. Halphas, pack Malcolm’s belongings.’

  ‘Yes, Master.’ The old man moved about the room, shoving Malcolm’s clothes into a plastic, hospital-issued bag. With a cautious glance back at Mammon, he shoved the mercenary shirt inside the bag.

  Malcolm slipped out of bed and threw on a t-shirt. He slid his feet into a pair of flip-flops and smoothed down his hair. ‘I’m ready. But how are we going to get out of here?’

  ‘You leave that to me.’

  Halphas stood at attention. ‘All packed, Master.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Mammon smiled and gestured towards the door. ‘Shall we?’

  In silence, the trio walked from the room and into the night.

  IVAN HAD AN amused twinkle in his eye as he watched Grace run her fingertips along his face, past the sandpapery stubble to the softer flesh of his neck. ‘Think I need a shave?’ The sofa creaked as he shifted his weight. She kicked off her shoes and snuggled closer. His t-shirt was soft, but she yearned to go further, to take if off and stroke the bare warmth of his chest.

  And by the animal look in his eye, he felt the same way.

  ‘I like touching your face.’ Grace lay her head on his chest, soothed by the sound of his breathing, the firm thump of his heart.

  Ivan rested his head back on the armrest; his fingers snaked up under her shirt. He stroked her back with the side of his thumb. ‘I think I’m getting the better part of the deal.’

  He slid his fingers under her chin and lifted it. ‘You feel afraid.’

  She nodded. ‘How can you tell?’

  ‘I just know.’ He ran his finger down her cheek. ‘Don’t worry, little one. Nobody will ever hurt you while I’m alive.’ He slid his fingers into the nape of her neck and pulled her face close in a long kiss.

  A low tapping, and their lips broke apart. Grace laughed; Ivan groaned. ‘Why does this keep happening?’ With a frustrated smile, he eased Grace to the side and jumped up.

  Diana was at the door. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Ivan opened the door wider. ‘Come in.’

  Diana stepped into the room but froze when she saw Grace lying on the couch. ‘Oh.’ She cast an accusing look back at Ivan.

  Grace sat up. ‘Hi, Diana.’ Her cheeks began to flame with embarrassment.

  ‘Hi.’ Frowning, Diana sat down. She watched Ivan sink on to the sofa next to Grace and take her hand in his. Diana rubbed her forehead and sighed. ‘So, you two are seeing each other now?’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ Grace nodded. She looked up at Ivan, who smiled.

  Diana’s eyes lowered to the amulets around their necks. ‘What are those?’

  ‘They’re from the rift, from a friend we met.’ Grace reached up and held her amulet between her thumb and forefinger.

  ‘Utu,’ Ivan added.

  ‘Really?’ Diana gasped. ‘That’s . . . amazing! He’s the stuff of legends. You mean you actually met him?’ She took a deep breath. ‘Well, Joe did very well. Quick thinking on his part.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Ivan.

  Grace crossed her legs underneath her. ‘What happened to Malcolm?’

  ‘He was committed for treatment.’ Diana leaned forward. ‘But there’s a problem. Somehow Malcolm has managed to escape.’

  ‘How?’ Ivan frowned. ‘That’s a secure facility.’

  ‘I don’t know what Marcus is more annoyed about,’ said Diana. ‘Having forked out all that money for treatment, or
the fact that his son has gone AWOL.’ She clasped her fingers together. ‘Joking aside, Malcolm just walked out of there. There was no intervention from the guards – in fact, they did everything they could to help him get out.’

  ‘Sounds like someone with telepathic power,’ said Grace.

  ‘Yes.’ Diana gave Grace a long look. ‘You should know.’

  Grace felt a pang of guilt. Poor Brutus.

  ‘But that’s not all,’ added Diana. ‘It’s even worse. The night nurse reported seeing a large circular cloud above Malcolm’s bed, about an hour before he disappeared.’

  * * *

  MALCOLM CHEWED ON a blade of grass and sat back on the day bed, his head comfortably wedged between two silk cushions. He clicked his fingers. Halphas ambled across, refilled Malcolm’s glass, then backed away a few steps. Mammon had told him to stand by as the boy’s servant; to tend to his whims. He rolled his eyes as Malcolm raised the glass in a mock toast.

  ‘Thank you, my man.’ Malcolm swallowed the contents in one gulp. He tossed the glass to the side and lay back, watching as the girl – he couldn’t remember her name – applied the last few colours to the canvas.

  ‘There.’ She stood back and tilted her head before shooting him a glance. ‘Want to see my landscape?’ She wiggled her way over to him and dropped her hand. ‘Let me help you up.’

  Malcolm squinted. ‘Can you stand just to the left? Ah, that’s better.’ He dropped his hand. ‘In fact, can you bring the painting here? I can’t be bothered moving.’

  With a mock sigh, the girl ambled back to her canvas. Malcolm watched her move with an appreciative smile. The micro-bikini – yellow polka-dot, no less – wrapped her curves pleasingly. The dots nearly a precise match for the hair that streamed across her back and over her full breasts.

  The girl lifted it from the easel. ‘Oh! It’s heavy! Are you sure you won’t come over here?’

  Halphas coughed. With a minute sway of his forefinger, he gestured for her to move.

  She grunted as she lifted the painting.

  Malcolm leaned on his side and rested his head on his palm. The canvas rested in front of him, supported by what’s-her-name’s knees. She’d captured Mammon’s mansion well, he had to concede. The Greek columns were proportionate in size to the rest of the building, the balconies’ fine wrought-iron patterns carefully detailed. She’d even caught the watermark crest that graced every window: the head of a wolf.