by Lucy Banks
Philpot studied him with interest. “That’s useful,” he said with a twitch of his nose. “Having eye-witnesses may yet come in handy. Who knows?”
“Yeah, he was my hero,” Mike said glumly. “I can’t believe he was a bloody daemon all along.”
“Yes, Hrschni was born for the stage,” Ian Kingdom-Green declared, eyes rolled heavenward. He clutched his chest, as though imploring his heart to calm its beating. “Such a performer. However, now we must accept, though it pains us to do so, that Hrschni’s intentions are not as honourable as we once believed.”
Cardigan Cummings nodded. “Put more simply, this daemon has turned, and he and the Thelemites are threatening not just Infinite Enterprises but everything this world holds dear.”
Kester gulped. The two investigators from Infinite Enterprises were impressive, both in stature and in what they were saying. He felt particularly small and silly by comparison.
Philpot cleared his throat. “Shall we continue?” The others nodded, and he clicked his laptop. At once, a photocopy of a letter appeared on the screen. Kester started to read, then realised what he was looking at.
“So this is the letter they sent you,” Ribero declared, twiddling his moustache thoughtfully. “I now see why you are so alarmed.”
Philpot nodded. “Quite. As you can see, this threatens not only Infinite Enterprises, but the world as a whole. It’s deeply concerning.”
Kester quickly scanned to the bottom.
Dear controllers of the spirit realm,
Your time is nearing completion, and your reign in the sun almost ended. The door will be opened. The two worlds will come together again. Your season of control is about to cease.
Them, elites and sceptics alike, will fall. Do what you will, for you cannot avoid the inevitable. Love is the law. The door will open again. Repeat into nothing. The door will be opened.
We are coming. Be prepared.
The Thelemites
He shivered. The words had a hypnotic, incantatory quality, which somehow made them far more sinister.
“What does it all mean?” he asked as he looked at the others.
Philpot straightened his jacket. “It’s typical daemon word-play, of course. They do love riddles and puzzles, it’s like an obsession for them.”
“And there are direct references to the Thelema cult,” Larry Higgins added. “‘Love is the law.’ ‘Do what you will,’ all that nonsense.”
Kester was confused. I knew I should have looked up the Thelemites before coming to the meeting, he thought. None of the others looked at all baffled, and he didn’t want to reveal his stupidity by asking.
“The door mentioned in the letter is obviously a reference to the spirit realm,” Miss Wellbeloved added, chewing her fingernail.
“We suspect that their target is actually the spirit door here at Infinite Enterprises,” Philpot said. “Hence the warning to ‘be prepared’ at the end.”
“But no-one can access the spirit door apart from official personnel, can they?” Serena asked as she tucked her hair anxiously behind one ear. “Your security measures are second-to-none.”
“Or so you always tell everyone,” Mike muttered ominously.
“Their security measures are second-to-none,” Philpot asserted as he rapped at the table to emphasise the point. “However, Hrschni is possibly one of the most powerful daemons the world has ever seen. Which means—”
“Which means you’re not quite sure what he’s capable of,” Higgins barked, leaning back in his chair with a look of disapproval. “Because you always presumed he’d behave himself.”
Philpot glanced across at Cardigan Cummings and Ian Kingdom-Green, who both shrugged. “Yes, I suppose that’s the truth of it,” he conceded. “But in fairness, in the millennia that Hrschni has lived in our world, he’s only ever demonstrated exemplary behaviour. We’ve got records dating back centuries that mark him as a respectable, decent daemon, with only love for humans.”
“This is all most worrying,” Miss Wellbeloved said. She massaged her temples and exhaled deeply.
“There’s something bugging me about that letter,” Mike interrupted. “I don’t know what it is, but there’s something not quite right about it.”
“Nothing is right about it!” Higgins spat, giving Mike the most withering look he could muster. “It’s meant to be deliberately puzzling, isn’t it? That’s what daemons are like!”
“What do you think is not right?” Dimitri asked as he carefully plucked a piece of fluff from his shirt sleeve.
Mike frowned. “I don’t have a clue,” he admitted eventually.
Higgins grunted, folding his hands against his chest. “Valuable input, as ever.”
A series of beeps interrupted them. Philpot pressed a finger to his lips, silencing them all, then pressed his keyboard.
“Hello there, sir!” he said and gave the others a serious nod.
“Is everyone assembled?” The voice on the other end of the call sounded rather nasal, as though speaking with both nostrils stuffed with tissue.
“Yes, sir; everyone is present.” Philpot pressed another button, and at once, a video image appeared on the projection screen. Kester studied the face with interest. This must be the famous Lord Bernard Nutcombe, he realised. For a Minister of the Supernatural, he didn’t look particularly impressive. And Kester could now see why the others kept saying his hair was like a toilet-brush. Black bristles protruded not only from his head, but also from his chin, upper lip, and—from what Kester could tell—even his nose. In fact, he looked more like a polished chimney sweep than a politician.
“Ah yes.” The minister eyed them all, then nodded. “A few new faces, I see. Shall we proceed? I have exactly nine minutes until my car arrives to take me to the House of Commons.”
“I’ve given them the basic debriefing already, sir,” Philpot said as he gestured to his laptop.
Nutcombe looked distinctly unimpressed, looming down on them like an enormous, floating deity. “As I’m sure you can imagine,” he began, “this needs to be dealt with swiftly and effectively. We’ve also enlisted the help of a couple of other agencies in the country, notably Whilshin & Sons, who are gathering intelligence for us.”
Philpot nodded. “The main Thelemite lodge is in London, so naturally, we’ve arranged for surveillance of the premises. However, Exeter is also a principal Thelemite lodge, which means that Dr Ribero and his team are ideally positioned to investigate there.”
“The other principal lodges are at Cambridge, Oxford, and Whitby in North Yorkshire,” Nutcombe continued, attempting to smooth his hair without any discernible success. The bristly strands simply bounced back the moment his fingers left their surface. “We may have to investigate activity in those locations too.”
“We’re looking for undercover information, which means investigative work.” Philpot nodded upwards at Nutcombe’s disembodied head on the screen. “This isn’t an exercise in charging in like a bull in a china-shop. This needs to be subtle, swift, and effective.”
Nutcombe cleared his throat. “We may need someone to infiltrate the Thelemites, though of course, this is dangerous.”
“Allow me,” Ian Kingdom-Green declared, hands clutched in excitement. “I am a master of many roles and can adopt any personality you choose. I’d infiltrate their meetings in the blink of an eye.”
Nutcombe covered his mouth, suppressing what might have been a cough or sarcastic snigger. “Thank you, Mr Kingdom-Green. However, the suggestion is impractical. The Thelemites are already familiar with you, regardless of how magnificent your theatrical performance might be.”
“Could I do it?” Luke asked, eyes shining. “I’d be happy to give it a shot, and I guess they wouldn’t know my face.”
Nutcombe peered down the length of his considerable nose. “And who might you be? The latest whipper-snap
per to join our ranks?”
Luke looked at the others and winked. “You can call me Luke, sir.”
Nutcombe squinted at the screen. “Very well, whatever your name is. We now know that the Thelemites have had access to our files, thanks to the break-in. Which means they may well be familiar with you too. That’s the problem, we have no idea how much they know about us.”
“Perhaps your girlfriend could do the honours,” Serena said, pointing at Kester.
Kester glared. “She absolutely could not,” he snapped. “She’s already been kidnapped by them; I’m not having her put in any more danger.”
Nutcombe leaned forward, suddenly looking more interested. “What’s this?”
“Kester’s girlfriend was a member of the Thelemites until very recently,” Serena said, ignoring Kester’s furious stare. “She might be able to help.”
“Well now, that is interesting,” Nutcombe said as he stroked his chin. He turned and fixed his gaze on Kester. “Is this correct?”
Kester reddened. “Well, yes, but—”
“We’ll have to interview her, see what we can learn about the organisation’s current practices,” Nutcombe said, eyes boring into Kester’s own.
“No, you absolutely cannot do that,” he blurted. The others stared, mouths open in collective horror. Across the table, Ribero flapped his hands urgently, which Kester ignored.
Nutcombe raised an eyebrow. “Why not? Presumably, the young lady has invaluable information—information that may assist with this vitally-important investigation.”
Miss Wellbeloved raised a hand. “If I might interrupt,” she said with an imperceptible nod in Kester’s direction, “the young lady in question was actually held captive by the Thelemites, if only for a short period of time.”
“And they threatened her!” Kester spluttered. “They said if she spoke a word about what she’d learned from them, they’d hurt her.”
“They didn’t actually say that in so many words,” Miss Wellbeloved said carefully, glancing in Kester’s direction. “But they certainly made it very clear that she would suffer in some way if she spoke out about them.”
“Well,” Nutcombe said, leaning forward. “I can guarantee our best men would protect her. This is too important a lead to simply let go, I’m afraid. Now,” he continued and nodded down at Philpot. “If you’d like to distribute the dossiers and make arrangements for the initial investigations? I’ll leave it in your capable hands, Curtis.”
“Absolutely,” Philpot flustered. He reached into his satchel and withdrew an enormous pile of folders. They sat in front of him, a formidable wall of text to be waded through.
Nutcombe nodded with satisfaction. “Excellent. I see you’re well prepared, as ever. Ladies and gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure meeting you all. I trust you’ll resolve this matter with utmost speed and professionalism.”
Higgins sidled a glance in Ribero’s direction and sneered. Ribero narrowed his eyes.
The screen went blank. Philpot closed the laptop, then distributed the folders to the team leaders. “Our first task,” he began, “is to work out their motivation. What’s caused the Thelemites to behave like this, after all this time? Why now?”
“They’ve been getting more radical for some time,” Miss Wellbeloved added with a worried look.
Philpot nodded significantly. “Yes. You’d know all about that. I know about your family’s connections to the organisation.”
Ian Kingdom-Green and Cardigan Cummings looked at one another, then over at Miss Wellbeloved, who blushed.
“Second task,” Philpot continued, bustling his laptop back into his bag as he spoke, “is to work out what they plan to do. And how they plan to do it. We’ll be using the Infinite Enterprises intranet to stay in touch from now on, as it’s far more secure than standard emailing. All other cases are low priority until this one is solved. Understood?”
They all nodded. Through the tinted glass, Kester saw the winter sun duck behind a cloud, like a child hiding. He felt a sudden sense of foreboding. This isn’t going to be an easy case, he thought, taking in Miss Wellbeloved’s look of barely-concealed panic. He glanced over to Serena and frowned. And thanks to her, I’ve got to worry about Anya’s safety too.
He sighed. It was going to be a long, difficult few weeks. He could tell.
Chapter 7: Nosing Through Phones
The days that followed the meeting in London were hectic, to say the least. The phone rang frequently, and Miss Wellbeloved patiently fielded suggestions, requests, and urgent demands from Infinite Enterprises, even at the most inconvenient times. Meanwhile, the weather grew colder, and the high street windows began to fill with tinsel, fairy-lights, and all the other trappings of the festive season. It was only six weeks until Christmas, but none of them felt able to get into the spirit of things, not even Pamela, who was usually the first to seize the chance for a celebration.
Infinite Enterprises had sent through the login for their intranet, which allowed them unrestricted access to the vast underground archives. No-one seemed particularly excited about this apart from Kester, who spent the best part of three hours rifling through old files.
It was fascinating to browse the records of daemons on the system. They were all, without exception, residing in the bodies of famous or wealthy humans; and all were known for their kindness, generosity, and decency. Kester gasped as he perused their statistics. All the daemons had “age unknown” written in their files, but their estimated dates of arrival in the human realm were formidable. Hrschni’s first human possession was recorded in 1055 in Winchester, though the file suggested he’d been around many centuries before that. It made Kester dizzy to think about it. He’s been here thousands of years, he realised, thinking back to the energetic performance he’d seen from Hrschni while he was masquerading as Billy Dagger. Who would have guessed?
He’d also read through his own file, though he had respectfully resisted the urge to nose through the rest of his team’s. In contrast to Hrschni, the information on him was short and concise, stating his age, education, previous address, and specialist skills. He almost laughed out loud when he noted they’d listed him as a “spirit-door opener.” If only they knew how unreliable I am at doing it, he thought, remembering how he’d only managed it recently after being chased by a large, angry bull.
A hand slammed a piece of paper onto Kester’s makeshift desk, startling him. He looked up from his laptop to see Ribero peering down at him, eyes twinkling mischievously.
“Stop reading about yourself, you vain boy, and do some real work.”
Kester hastily shut down his file. “It was research,” he protested.
Ribero jabbed at the paper. “This is your work now. Ian Kingdom-Kong has just phoned—”
“Kingdom-Green,” Kester corrected automatically.
“Whatever. The big, hairy, ape goon. He wants us to work on deciphering the letter, okay?”
Kester sighed and glanced down at the print-out. “It’s the letter that the Thelemites sent Infinite Enterprises.”
Ribero launched into a round of applause, sarcastic expression firmly in place. “Bravo, genius child!” he shouted. “Now, get on with it. See what you can work out; you are good with puzzles like this. Pamela and Mike are going to help you.”
Mike looked up from his desk. “Why me?”
“Because you are doing the silly thing with wires and metal again, not doing any proper work. Now is the time to use your brain.”
Mike muttered darkly and threw his screwdriver down. “I’m not sure what help I’ll be.”
Ribero scoffed. “Nor me. But at least you will be earning your money rather than playing with tin cans, yes?”
Pamela pushed her chair over the carpet, then plunked herself down beside Kester. “I do like doing things like this,” she said with a beatific grin. “It’s like doing a good cros
sword in the morning, isn’t it? Gets the juices flowing.”
“Enough about the juices,” Ribero barked before stalking back towards his office. “But Serena, that reminds me. A coffee, please.”
Serena scowled, rapping her fingernails on the desk. “Get Pamela to do it, it’s her job.”
“It certainly isn’t, young lady!” Pamela pointed at the kitchen. “Go on, off your bum.”
“Yeah, get off your bum,” Kester echoed darkly. He still hadn’t forgiven her for mentioning Anya in the meeting the other day. Not that Serena seemed at all bothered. She doesn’t even seem to notice when I’m angry at her, he thought as he watched her storm to the store cupboard to boil the kettle. It’s like water off a very skinny, mean duck’s back.
Mike dragged his chair across the floor, landing next to Kester’s desk like a falling boulder. “Come on then,” he said gloomily. “Let’s get this over and done with.”
“At least it a short letter,” Pamela said.
Kester moved his laptop to one side and spread the paper neatly across the desk.
“‘Dear controllers of the spirit realm,’” he read aloud. “‘Your time is nearing completion, and your reign in the sun almost ended. The door will be opened. The two worlds will come together again. Your season of control is about to cease.’”
“Weird stuff, isn’t it?” Pamela breathed. “Very esoteric.”
Kester cleared his throat and continued. “‘Them, elites and sceptics alike, will fall. Do what you will, for you cannot avoid the inevitable. Love is the law. The door will open again. Repeat into nothing. The door will be opened.’”
“And let’s not forget that last, dramatic line,” Mike added with a fierce nod at the paper.
“‘We are coming,’” Kester concluded. He looked at them both, then added, “‘Be prepared.’”
“Signed, ‘The Thelemites,’” Pamela finished. She rolled back in her chair and folded her hands across her knitted cardigan. “What do you make of all that, eh?”