Personal Demons

by David Morrison

  And one of them is over a hundred and ten years old. I bet they didn’t include that in any census.

  The address the hacker had given me was on the outskirts of the town. It was dark by the time we got there. I directed the driver to park one street away from the house we wanted. Again, trying to be cautious. Trying to keep my friends out of danger. Wishing they hadn’t insisted on coming, but glad they were there all the same.

  “You two stay here. It’s too dangerous now.”

  “Jayce,” Kate said, “It’s going to be a lot more dangerous if we don’t stop this demon from killing the cursed one. You should take Dee with you.”

  Dee did a double take at Kate volunteering him into danger.

  “You know what this thing is,” Kate said, “and you have some power, no matter how weak it is. Me, sure so I can kick ass in a martial arts tournament, or if a creep jumps me down an alleyway. Great, thanks for the lessons, dad, but that’s not much use against a super-fast, tough as nails, knife-wielding demon, right?”

  It was a good point. I’d seen what monsters could do to unarmed military personnel if they wanted to, and I’d only survived my last encounter because of my healing abilities and strength. Kate was just a teenage human. Dee, on the other hand, was a supernatural. He could switch into his slightly tougher djinn form, which would protect him. I nodded, breathing a sigh of relief.

  “Yeah, right, thanks,” Dee said, “You know I’m not Jason’s guardian djinn anymore, right?”

  “So why did you come along, then?” Kate bantered, “Old habits dying hard?”

  “Something like that I guess,” Dee muttered.

  “Enough,” I said, “We’re wasting time. Okay Kate, you wait here. Dee and I will collect Marian. With any luck we’ll be in and out before the demon gets here. That’s what I’m counting on.”

  In the meantime, the chauffeur had gotten out of the driver’s seat as we stood outside the limo debating our move.

  “Okay, let’s go,” he said.

  “What?” I said.

  “I’m under instructions from Victoria to protect you, kid.”

  “Right, sorry – I thought you were just the driver.”

  “I did three tours of Afghanistan and five years in Section 19 before joining the Pryces’ private security. You want me by your side on this.”

  He unbuttoned the jacket of his suit to reveal a shoulder holster with a pistol tucked under his left armpit.

  “Fair enough.”

  Up to that point, I hadn’t paid much attention to the driver. Now he was standing beside us, I realised that had been a mistake. He was a big bloke, over six foot and built with it. He wasn’t packing a heavy-weightlifter level of muscle, but he had enough. He had a no-nonsense military discipline about his movements. An easy, trained killer’s confidence in his manner. His eyes swept the surrounding area out of habit, alert for any signs of danger.

  I could think of worse allies to have.

  He tossed Kate the limo keys, “Can you drive?”

  “Sure,” Kate replied. We both had learner licences and had taken enough lessons to know the basics.

  “Keep the engine running,” he said, “Let’s go.”

  Kate slid into the driver seat of the limo, as Dee, the chauffeur and I walked to the end of the quiet street.

  “What’s your name?” I asked him.

  “Bill,” he replied briefly.

  We turned the corner into the street where the last cursed one’s house was. Like Paul in High Wycombe, Marian’s house was tucked away in a small, unremarkable cul-de-sac. Apparently the government had decided in the late forties that the reward for an eternity of torment was a life of rotting in obscurity. Still, with the faint smell of the sea blowing through the streets, it looked like Marian had been given the nicest location of the three of them.

  Unfortunately, she wasn’t at home.

  Chapter Forty Two: The Last Cursed One

  “Are you sure this is the right address?” Bill asked.

  I looked around the tiny living room. The walls were covered with the muddiest, least convincing watercolour paintings you’ve ever seen. Mum’s efforts looked like fine art in comparison. Apart from these desperate, scrabbling attempts to recover her creativity and magical essence, the sparse bungalow was as threadbare as the house in High Wycombe. Dust and cigarette ash were strewn everywhere. The rooms were an unkempt mess, the kitchen a breeding ground for superbugs.

  “This is the place,” I said.

  We’d broken in after repeatedly ringing the doorbell had produced no result. Bill had entered first, pistol drawn, clearing the rooms one by one. For a few tense moments I’d thought we were too late and there’d be a dead body. That wasn’t the case though. Marian – whose cover name was Emma Smith – was simply not at home.

  “Terrific,” Bill muttered, “Now what?”

  “Local shops, perhaps? Maybe the pub if there’s one nearby?”

  “What if she’s on holiday or something?” Dee asked.

  “Then we’ve got a big problem,” I grimaced.

  I was trying not to panic, but this was already not going according to plan. We stepped back outside, scanned the cul-de-sac. Of the seven or eight nearby bungalows, three of them had lights on, including the one next door. I knocked on the neighbour’s door and was greeted by a suspicious, pinch-faced older gentleman.

  “Hello,” I said with the most charming smile I could muster, “I’m looking for my aunt, Emma, but she isn’t home. Do you know where she is by any chance?”

  The pinch-faced man sized me up down his nose. Adjusted his thick glasses. Sniffed loudly.

  “She’ll be at The Oak, no doubt.”

  “The Oak?”

  The man sniffed again, managing to indicate his total contempt at my lack of local knowledge with nothing more than his sinuses.

  “You want to go back onto Salisbury Road, right and right again. Can’t miss it. Proper English pub. Traditional place. She’s there most nights. Not that the miserable cow ever has any fun.”

  And with that he closed the door.

  “Charmed, I’m sure,” I muttered.

  I relayed the information to Dee and Bill. Told Bill to keep an eye on the house, told Dee to head back to the limo and let Kate know what was going on and then left in search of The Oak. A three storey, traditional English country inn, complete with Tudor style black beams between the white plaster front. I ducked inside and was greeted by a rowdy group of women on a hen do. I squeezed through the celebrations, trying to be inconspicuous. I had one photo of Marian/Emma to go on but I didn’t need it. As soon as I spotted her, it was obvious who she was. What she was. To me, at any rate.

  She was sat alone at a table with a pint of dark ale in front of her, a few sips taken from it. Her clothes were outdated and worn. A pool of misery surrounded her. The partying women could sense it and steered clear of the lone woman and her palpable gloom. Marian paid no attention to what was going on around her. Her eyes were covered in a misty film that obscured everything except her own dark thoughts.

  I sat beside her. Explained who I was, using the ‘I’m with Section 19’ line. Called her by her real name, the one no-one would have used for seventy years. Told her she was in danger, and that she needed to come with me. She barely registered my words. Only a faint nod indicated she’d heard me.

  “We need to go. Please. You’re in danger here. So are my friends.”

  Marian’s filmy eyes flickered towards me. She reached out a hand, lifted her pint, took a sip.

  “Did you know alcohol doesn’t affect someone with my condition?” she said, “I can barely even taste the ale. I can barely taste anything at all. Not for seventy years now.”

  Mental alarm bells were ringing loud and clear. Precious seconds were ticking by. We didn’t have time for this.

  “We need to leave, Marian,” I said gently, “Please trust me on this. Someone is coming for you. He wants to kill you, to reverse what you did in the fortie
s.”

  “It was bound to happen eventually,” Marian replied.

  Unlike Paul she didn’t look afraid. Instead she seemed resigned to her fate.

  “We can protect you. We can stop this from happening.”

  Marian nodded as if she finally comprehended. She took another slow sip of her ale. Rolled the liquid around her mouth before swallowing. Sighed.

  “Even with danger just around the corner, there’s still no taste,” she said sadly.

  She got up and I led her through the crowd of raucous women. They parted for us as we cut through them, not wanting their fun to be tainted by Marian’s grim aura. Once we were outside the revelry continued behind us as if we hadn’t been there at all.

  Instead of walking towards the limo, Marian insisted on taking the shortcut back to her bungalow.

  “This way,” I urged her, trying to guide her toward safety.

  “I need to pick up some things first,” Marian said, “That’s what you do when you go somewhere else, isn’t it? You take things with you. Like a toothbrush. Clothes. I haven’t been anywhere else in such a long time, I forget.”

  The fear that we were about to be caught was so intense I wanted to scream at her. She seemed determined to drag this out. Rather than waste more precious minutes arguing, I hurried her back to the bungalow.

  “This her?” Bill asked.

  I nodded. Kate and Dee were standing outside the house. Great.

  “Kate, the limo?”

  “I thought you might need help to look for Marian,” Kate said.

  I groaned in exasperation. Nothing was going the way it was supposed to. Marian complained about the broken door, wondering if ‘them kids’ had broken in again. She didn’t know why they bothered unless they wanted to steal her watercolours. Had I seen her watercolours? She wondered.

  My heart was beating faster with every passing second. How long had this all taken so far? Half an hour? An hour? More?

  I hurried Marian along the corridor into her messy bedroom. She slowly packed some clothes into a battered, antique suitcase that hadn’t been used since World War Two. I’d managed to get her to the front door when she remembered her toothbrush and returned inside to find it.

  The sound of a speeding car engine in the distance got louder. I saw a flash of headlights as it turned onto our street. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. A silver-grey BMW Saloon - series 5 - tore up the dead end road. It sped past us and mounted the pavement so it could spin around without reversing. Tyres screeched on tarmac. The headlights caught Marian’s front door as it came to a sudden stop. The driver door opened. So did the passenger doors. Three figures got out.

  This time, Mr Stabby hadn’t come alone.

  “He’s here,” I said, clenching my fists

  “Oh dear,” Marian said from the bathroom, “I’ve run out of mouthwash.”

  Chapter Forty Three: Shut up and Drive

  Bill drew his pistol and fired at the three shadowy figures, forcing them to scatter. One of them grunted as he was hit in the shoulder and staggered behind a low wall. The other two reached the cover of a narrow side alley before Bill’s bullets could find their targets.

  “Winged one,” Bill said.

  Lights came on in the windows of the bungalows all around us. Curtains twitched. Bill raised his gun and shot out the street lights above and behind us. I guessed this was Section 19 training. There was still enough light from the houses to see who was where, but making out the details would be difficult for the civilians. Bill fired three more shots in the direction our opponents had ducked, preventing them from rushing us.

  The assault on Section 19 had been against mostly unarmed soldiers. On his own but armed, Bill was keeping the demon and his two cohorts at bay temporarily.

  “Kate, get yourself and Marian out of here,” I said, “Now!”

  Kate didn’t argue and grabbed Marian. The gunshots had had some effect on the last cursed one.

  “I think we should go, dear,” she confided in Kate.

  “Lovely,” Kate said.

  She led Marian away from the impending battle and towards the far end of the street and the limo. Dee, Bill and I spread out across the narrow street, blocking anyone from getting past. Bill fired more shots, suppressing fire. Slammed another clip into his pistol.

  The door of the bungalow next to Marian’s opened and the pinch-faced neighbour poked his head out.

  “What’s going on here?” he said.

  He stared at Dee.

  “Is this a terrorist thing? Oh my god, are you a terrorist?”

  Dee scowled. He got a lot of ‘jokes’ along those lines at school because of the colour of his skin. Then he thought of something. He grinned his cheeky grin at me and shifted into his blue-skinned djinn form. He glowered back at the pinch-faced man, displaying his vicious looking black fingernails and a row of pointed teeth.

  “You have no idea,” he said.

  The man yelped and slammed his door closed.

  Bill did a double take at Dee, “What the hell?”

  “He’s on our side,” I said.

  Bill, taken aback by Dee’s transformation, shook his head and took my word for it.

  “You sure about that, mate?” Dee asked as we stood in the cold dark street.

  I looked at him quizzically.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You weren’t sure if I was on your side last week. Or even your mate. Well you’d better be after this. Now get out of here. Go!”

  And then my idiotic best friend charged straight towards our opponents, roaring like a banshee.

  “Dee!” I yelled, but it was too late. As Dee rushed forward, the demon stepped out from the shadows. He grabbed Dee as if he was a small sack of potatoes and tossed him twenty odd metres behind him. Dee came crashing to the ground against a tree and didn’t move again.

  “No!” I shouted.

  “He’s gone!” Bill said, “We have to get out of here!”

  A werewolf shot out of the darkness and sliced through Bill’s stomach, then smacked him with a paw, sending him spinning to the pavement. It happened so fast that I couldn’t do a thing to stop it. Blood sprayed across the street as Bill fell, his pistol clattering to the ground.

  “Where is she, Jason?” a familiar, sardonic voice – or more accurately voices - called out. The demon.

  Both Dee and Bill had been taken out. I was standing alone on a dark street, facing two demons and a werewolf. The demons were Doctor Pierce and the one I’d fought in High Wycombe, whom I’d nicknamed Mr Stabby.

  My theory they were working together had been proven correct, not that that was any comfort. I saw a glint of the blade that had gutted me a few days earlier.

  Like an idiot, I didn’t have a single weapon. The three of them surrounded me. They were so confident they’d won they shifted back to human form. I clenched my fists, knowing it was over. Sure, I was strong right now, really strong, but that made no difference.

  I’d lost.

  But, see, here’s the thing about the Audi R8 V10 stretch limo.

  It’s fast.

  I mean stupid fast. Not just by a limo’s standards but by any non-sports car standards. The thing had been designed to be the fastest stretch limo in existence. It wasn’t quite that – that prize went to a souped-up one-off Ferrari owned by a prince in Dubai – but it was still up there. Despite the extra weight of the interior modifications of the smooth white leather seats, the walnut drinks cabinet and the driver’s partition, it could still get to 60 Miles per Hour in under 4 seconds and topped out at a fraction less than 195 MPH.

  So when I heard it come tearing up the street, there was only one thing to do:

  Jump.

  I shot over two metres into the air as the white limo hurtled underneath me and Kate rammed into my three opponents. There were a couple of cracking sounds as they were tossed aside, spinning out of the way as best they could. I managed to land on the other side of the speeding vehicle witho
ut twisting an ankle as it slammed straight into the front of the silver BMW. The two cars smashed together and caused at least fifty thousand pounds worth of damage apiece.

  “Go Kate,” I said as I rolled on the tarmac. Bill was lying on the grass, still conscious, clutching his bleeding stomach. Kate opened a passenger door. I grabbed Bill and flung him inside.

  “Kid,” the demon growled from the shadows, “You’re beginning to get on my nerves.”

  “Where’s Dee?” Kate shouted as I threw myself into the car and she put it in reverse.

  Dee.

  Time slowed to an hour between each heartbeat. Every instinct said I had to go back out there and get him. Every war cliché about ‘You never leave a man behind’ came into my head. Dee was out there. At the mercy of the Monster Liberation Front.

  Another heartbeat.

  We had Marian, who was sitting in the car and looking terrified now.

  I knew the stakes if the demon got hold of her. That was it. Game over. End of the world, or something close enough. I knew tactically what the right decision was. What the only decision was.

  We had to leave.

  Another heartbeat.

  I got up to go back outside.

  Bill grabbed my arm, restraining me.

  “He didn’t make it,” Bill said, gasping, “Drive. Now.”

  “Jason?” Kate queried, glancing back at me.

  I gritted my teeth. Hated myself. Swore if I ever got a chance to make this up to Dee, then I would, somehow. Some way. Counted on the fact that Dee was one of them, so if he was still alive, they wouldn’t kill him. Counted on the fact that Dee had meant it when he’d told us to get out of here.

  “Drive,” I said, pulling the door closed.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind I could hear Major Wilson softly laughing.

  Are you starting to see what a tough choice is now, son?

  Kate hit reverse, speeding back down the street and screeching onto the main road. Considering she’d never handled a vehicle this size before, she was doing pretty well. She’d only taken out one recycling bin so far.