Episode #7: The Girl Who Wouldn't Die.
Previously on Hex: brief clips from Episode #6 – Mary Warren pulling back her hood in 1808; Mary firing the crossbow; the crossbow bolt embedded in Rose; Ella pulling back her hood; Troy standing at the altar in the present; Gemma lifting her veil; Thelma reaching the front of the crowd and seeing Troy with his throat slashed and a knive buried in his chest; Catherine Cotton pulling the tape off of Leon's mouth; Jo saying "You've have to look for his abductor elsewhere."; Leon asking "Who are you?"; Midge saying "her name's Catherine Cotton"; Mephistopheles saying "Miss Cotton is merely obeying orders"; Mary with her vivid hair and clothes stepping out of the shadows.
On-screen caption: Three years ago.
We're on a platform on a London Underground station. The name of the station is identified on the wall as 'Hobbs Lane.' The platform is empty, and a train is just starting to pull away. As it does so, two teenagers – a boy and a girl – run onto the platform. Too late.
The train disappears into the tunnel. The teens watch it go. The boy turns to the girl. He's wearing a studded leather jacket and jeans, and has several facial piercings. He shrugs.
"Just have to wait for the next one." He says.
"My dad's gonna kill me." She mutters. "I'll never make back on time."
Her companion grins and points theatrically at her.
"You're the one who insisted on staying for the encore. Told you we'd be late."
She smiles and shrugs: "Great gig though, wasn't it?"
A strong wind blows through the station from the tunnels, and the girl shivers. She's just wearing a black sleeveless t-shirt, red and white trainers, and a red skirt that could be mistaken for a belt.
"You cold?" Asks the boy, and she nods.
He steps up to her and holds her. She rests her head sideways on his chest.
"How long before the next train?" She murmurs.
"Shouldn't be long." He tells her. "And it'll be the last one. If it's been cancelled, we're walking."
She giggles, steps away from him, and playfully punches him on the chest.
"Don't say that." She declares in mock-protest. "I –"
A sharp, high-pitched whine cuts her off. The two teens look down the platform, where the noise came from. The station lights are flickering. A couple of them burst in a small shower of sparks.
"Rob?" Says the girl, suddenly afraid, reaching back towards him without taking her eyes away from where the noise originated, "What –"
The sound occurs again, stronger this time, louder. As the girl and Rob watch, a section of the platform wall becomes distorted, and starts to twist in on itself, like a photo that's being exposed to extreme heat. The station lights are flickering with increasing rapidity, and the air is filled with a heavy electrical hum.
"ROB!" Screams the girl, and the boy grabs her arm and they try to run to the stairs.
Before they can take two paces, flashes of energy start to spontaneously burst into life in the heavily electrified air all around them. Sparks erupt from the boy's piercings and the metal studs on his jacket, and both he and the girl are knocked to the ground. As Rob clutches his face and howls in pain, the girl pulls her mobile phone out of her purse, yelping as she receives a shock from the purse's metal zip. She gazes at the phone in bewilderment – the display is going haywire, flashing up a display of gibberish that's appearing, changing, then disappearing so rapidly that it's impossible to read. Smoke suddenly issues from the phone, and the girl screams and drops it as it burns her hand. The phone lands on the platform and the terrified teenager watches as the plastic buckles and melts.
The noise is intensifying. Still lying on the platform, the girl looks across to the distorted section of the wall – as someone steps out of it. The noise instantly stops, the rapidly flickering lights remain to normal, the bolts of energy in the air curl and blow away, fading into nothingness. The only sound that can is heard is Rob's moaning. The girl stares transfixed at the figure on the platform: it's a tall, slim young woman, dressed in clothing from another era: a dark brown ankle length skirt, a long-sleeved matching top that is buttoned up to just under her chin, and flat shoes. Her light brown hair is tied up in a bun at the back. The woman gazes about at her surroundings, notices Rob and the girl, and turns and walks towards them. As she walks, a visual wave of energy – like a wavering bar scrolling up a television screen – travels from the soles of her feet to the top of her head. As the wave of energy moves up the woman, it changes her appearance: the flat-soled shoes become black, high-heeled ankle boots. Her skirt vanishes from the hem upwards, revealing shapely legs now clad in black cobweb-patterned stockings, topped by a purple leather mini-skirt. The conservative buttoned-up top is replaced by a short, midriff-revealing black leather blousom with elbow length sleeves. Fingerless black leather gloves appear on her hands. The pulled-back hair and the bun is transformed into a bob hairstyle with sharp pointed bangs either side of her face. The woman pauses a second as she walks and glances down at her new apparel.
"Interesting." She murmurs.
The teenage girl tries to get to her feet, but the electrical shock she received has numbed her legs and made them non-responsive. Instead, she frantically starts to crawl away from the approaching woman. Reaching the girl, the woman simply steps around her and advances on Rob, who's still in too much pain to realise what's happened. Reaching down and clutching the front of the teenager's leather jacket with one hand, the woman yanks Rob to his feet, and keeps hold of him. She's taller than him, and has to look down in order to gaze at his damaged face – his piercings have smouldered and fused into his flesh.
"Very interesting." She remarks.
"Wha – what? Help –" Sputters the stricken teenager.
"Show me." She interupts, releasing her hold on his jacket, spreading out her fingers on both hands, and then clamping her hands on either side of his head.
As the terrified teenage girl watches, Rob immediately starts jerking and spasming, the woman holding him firmly as his eyes roll back and display only white. She actually lifts him a couple of inches off the floor, so his feet kick and twitch at empty air, barely managing to scuff the ground. Apart from a gurgling noise from deep in his throat, the young man makes no sound. Then it's over, as suddenly as it began: the woman lets go of Rob's head, and the teenager collapses onto the platform and lies still. Tears of blood have trickled out of both his eyes. The woman turns her attention to the girl.
"No." Pleads the teenager tearfully as the woman crouches over her. " Please. Don't –"
"I still have gaps." Says the woman, ignoring her. "Seek comfort in the knowledge that tonight you have witnessed a act of devine intervention."
She starts to place her hands either side of the girl's head. The teenager halfheartedly raises a hand to try to push one of the woman's hands away, but is otherwise too scared to do anything except continue to plead.
"No. Please. Wait." She whines, and then asks in desperation: "Who are you?"
"Mary Warren" Replies the woman. "Anointed One."
Opening titles.
On-screen caption: The Present.
The interior of Ella's basement flat. Thelma is perched on the kitchen counter and Mephistopheles is standing a few feet in front of her, facing Ella, who's sitting on the arm of the sofa. Midge is in the chair by the desk housing the array of computers, but has swung the chair round so she's also looking at their guest. Ella is still holding the envelope she found in the hallway, staring at the writing on it's front.
"You're not mistaken." Announces Mephistopheles, addressing Ella. "That envelope and it's contents were written by whom you think they were."
Ella looks up and fixes him with a determined stare.
"Mary Warren died almost a century ago." She declares. "I was there. I saw it happen, right in front of me."
Perplexed, Thelma looks back and forth between Mephistopheles and Ella.
"Who's Mary Warren?" She asks.
"Shall you tell them, or shall I?" Enquiries Mephistopheles.
Ella regards him coolly before answering Thelma's question;
"Once they have gained enough experience, it's customary for an Anointed One to take an apprentice, someone chosen by the forces of Heaven as being suitable to carry on their work, should the Anointed One fall in battle or tire of the fight. My father, John Dee, was the Anointed One before me, and I was judged worthy to be his apprentice. But usually, individuals capable of becoming an Anointed One are extremely rare, and can be born hundreds of years apart. I served as an Anointed One for two centuries until I was informed that an apprentice had been found for me. A young girl whose ancesters had belonged to the Knights Templer, and been founder members of the Illuminati."
"Mary Warren." Murmurs Thelma, and Ella nods.
Cut to the room where Leon is bound to a chair. Mary is slowly walking round him, talking as she does, only glancing at him when she wishes to emphase a point. Catherine Cotton is still standing directly in front of Leon, but has moved a few feet back, to make room for Mary's circuit.
"It was 1785 when I first met Ella." Remarks Mary. "When I was…chosen. Here was this tiny slip of a girl, who looked a few years younger than me, yet to learn that she had been fighting the forces of Hell and protecting mankind for over a century and a half before I'd been born…"
She pauses, stops walking for a second, places her hands to her chest and closes her eyes momentarily. Then she opens them and looks across at Leon.
"I has quite a crush on her, in the beginning. I'm sure you know where I'm coming from."
Cut back to Ella's flat (throughout the rest of this sequence, the scene cuts back and forth between Ella and Mary, both talking at their respective locations).
"She was a good pupil." Ella murmurs. "She learnt fast. Faster than I had, when my father had taught me. She mastered combat skills, became adept with the use of assorted weapons, and could perform elaborate and complex spells as though it was all second nature to her. And, more importantly, we were friends. We trusted each other implicitly."
Cut back to Mary walking around Leon, talking;
"I'm not surprised she never told you about me. That's always been Ella's way. Don't dwell on the past, just forge ahead, never look back. Pity though. The stories she could have told you about our adventures together." Without breaking step, she gives him a hearty slap on the back of his shoulder. "It's a good thing I'm here to fill you in. You see, I know where all the bodies are buried. Yessir."
Cut to Ella in the basement flat;
"We killed people." She states flatly. "That was our mission. We travelled the world, seeking out female descendents of Rachel McBain and the other members of the Medenham coven, and we killed them. It was like a perverse chase, in a way, between us and Azazeal. Almost a sport. If a girl had reached childbearing age, and he'd gotten to her first and impregnated her, we killed her to prevent the birth. If we found the girl before he did, we killed her to prevent him impregnating her. We took life after life, killing helpless pregnant girls and naïve, innocent virgins. Some of them were barely teenagers. They were practically still children. But Azazael" she spits out his name "liked them young."
Cut to Mary, pausing in front of Leon and staring him at him directly, a semi-amused smile on her face;
"Ella and I were God's assassins." She declares simply. "We waded in blood."
Cut back to Ella;
"The only consolation we had," she murmurs, "the only excuse, was that this was God's will. Our actions had His sanction. Sometimes that helped. Sometimes it made it worse. We were murdering children. And God approved."
Ella pauses, collecting her thoughts before continuing;
"Like I said, only a rare kind of person can be an Anointed One. And not just because of the work. Immortality is…hard. Once you visit a place, you can never return for at least a century, so that anyone who might remember you has died, and there's no-one left to realise that you haven't aged. Even if you make a friend whom you can entrust with your secret, or dare to take a lover, you know that they will grow old and die. Eventually, everybody does. But you carry on, alone. Having Mary with me changed everything. Here was someone to join me on my path. To help carry the burden. To share my guilt. Each of us was all the other had. But we coped with the weight of immortality in different ways. I would shut down my emotions. I'd draw a veil over whole decades – entire centuries – of my life, periodically re-inventing myself and never looking back. Never allowing myself to wonder, or analyse, or regret. Mary coped by embracing the work, trying to take pride in what we did. For her, doing the job well became the justification for doing it. On some level, I think she even enjoyed it. I never judged her. How could I? Out of the two of us, she was probably the more honest."
Cut to Mary, circling around Leon;
"It wasn't all just chasing Azazeal around, you know." She declares. "You see, wherever he was, his presence would knock the natural balance slightly off kilter, causing weird events to occur. Rainstorms of blood, poltergeist activity, showers of frogs, strange lights in the sky, weeping statues, that sort of thing. So whenever we heard of something un-natural happening, off we went. However, it isn't just God who works in mysterious ways. The world can be a bizarre place, even when Azazeal's not around. We encountered more than our fair share of otherworldliness that had nothing to do with the Nephilim."
Cut back to Ella in the flat;
"We used to call them events of 'high strangeness.' And as He is a jealous God, we were instructed to eliminate those responsible, whether human or not. He wanted to maintain His monopoly on miracles." She says.
Cut back to Mary;
"There was that night at Blythburgh church when we encountered Black Shuck. And the time when we camped out all night in Highgate cemetery in order to stamp out a vampire infestation. And we mustn't forget the battles that Ella and I had with Springheeled Jack. And of course our little jaunt over to America, when we brought down the Aeronauts. Ah, happy times."
Cut back to Ella;
"In 1915 we heard reports of someone using occult means to dispose of high ranking members of the British establishment. We investigated, but Azazeal wasn't to blame. Instead it was an oriential master criminal, who controlled a vast underworld empire from his subterranean headquarters, deep under Limehouse. We found a way into his lair, fought our way through his underlings, only to find he'd escaped into the sewers. We pursued him, Mary taking the lead. But German zeppelins were bombing London that night. A warehouse directly above us received a direct hit. The tunnel collapsed in front of me. The last thing I saw was Mary being buried under a couple of hundred tons of earth and stone. I was found and pulled out of the rubble seven hours later."
For the first time since she began talking, Ella looks up from the envelope she's holding, and gazes at Mephistopheles: "Mary Warren is dead." She declares.
"I'm afraid that's not the case." Murmurs Mephistopheles. "Although I'm no longer welcome in Hell, and I've not set foot in Heaven since the war, there are parties in both camps who owe me enough favours to enable me to keep in the loop, regarding what's going on. The truth is that Heaven had doubts about your suitability as an Anointed One long ago. You were deemed a little too… individual. There was potential for rebellion within you. Mary however, was more to their liking. But Heaven was concerned that if she remained with you, it would soften her, blunt her edge. So when an opportunity arose in 1915, they seized their chance. Mary would have been killed in that cave-in, but Heaven suspended her in a moment in time – the split second before the collapse would have crushed her. And she was kept there, while you and the rest of the world continued on. Five years ago, you eventually rejected Heaven's guidance, as it was always believed you would. A period of debate followed – you may be either pleased or annoyed to know that some in Heaven thought you deserved a second chance to return to the fold. But the decision was finally made to release Mary by bringing her forward to the present day."
Ella looks as though someone's punched her in the stomach. Her entire world has just turned upside down.
"When did this happen." She manages to ask.
"Three years ago." Replies Mehistopheles. "Where the sewer once stood is now Hobbs Lane underground station." Thelma catches Midge's eye and nods towards the computers. Midge wordlessly swings her chair round and starts tapping away on the keyboard as Mephistopheles continues: "However, there was an unforseen problem. Although her body was suspended in 1915, her mind had remained active, cut off from all outside stimulation. She'd received no sensory input for almost a century."
"Wait a minute," Interupts Thelma, "you're saying that her mind was basically stuck in a void, cut off from everything, and she wasn't able to see, hear or touch anything for nearly a hundred years?"
"Yes," says Mephistopheles, "until Heaven reunited her mind with her body and released her."
"My God." Breathes Ella, gazing across the room, not actually looking at anything, just managing to come to terms with what she's hearing. "It must have driven her insane."
"Actually, it's believed she went completely insane, then full circle back to total rationality, several times during her time suspended." Comments Mephistopheles. "Unfortunately, at the time she was released, she was at the bottom of the curve."
"I've got something." Reports Midge. "News report about Hobbs Lane station, just over three years ago. Teenage boy and girl found. The boy had died of a brain hemmoridge, the girl was in a coma." She taps away for a few seconds. "The most recent report I can find after that states there'd been no change in the girl's condition, and brain damage had been confirmed."
"Mary had been out of circulation for almost a century," explains Mephistopheles, "she extracted from their minds the information she needed about the modern world."
Thelma looks at Ella;
"I didn't know Anointed Ones could do that." She says.
"We can't." Murmurs Ella.
"Miss Warren's psychic powers have expanded and considerably grown in strength as the result of almost a century's isolation." Comments Mephistopheles. "While her sanity spent those decades spinning round on a carousel, her subconscious mind had no outside influences to distract it, so it turned inward, and worked constantly on developing it's abilities."
"So what can she do?" Thelma enquires.
"Her telekinetic abilities are far stronger than any Anointed One who preceded her." Reports Mephistopheles. "She also now has substantial telepathic powers, and impressive pyrokinetic skills. In addition, she's capable of mentally dominating practically anyone she comes in to contact with."
"You mean hypnosis?" Asks Thelma.
"Of a fashion." Replies Mephistopheles. "Suffice to say that if she chooses, she can control people like puppets."
"You say she rejoined the present three years ago." Queries Ella. "What's she's been doing since then?"
"As your associate has confirmed," Mephistopheles murmurs, nodding towards Midge, "upon arrival she extracted information from the first people she encountered. Unfortunately, a pair of teenagers weren't the ideal choice, but beggars can't be choosers I suppose. If nothing else, it gave her sound knowledge about music downloads, brand name fashion, reality television celebrities and whatever else the youth of today obsess over. She knew that trying to obtain further information would have left a trail of victims for the authorities to puzzle over, so rather than risk drawing attention to herself, it's believed she then laid low for several months, adjusting to the 21st century. She resurfaced after being contacted by a representative from Heaven, who informed her that an apprentice had been found for her."
"Catherine Cotton." Realises Ella. "It was Mary who broke her out of the asylum in America."
Mephistopheles nods.
"This business about having apprentices is a bit Sith, isn't it?" Comments Thelma.
"So why did Catherine and her hired muscle gatecrash the wedding and kidnap Leon and the bride?" Asks Midge.
It's Ella rather than Mephistopheles who answers. For her, all the pieces have fallen into place;
"Heaven doesn't want me around anymore. I've proven to be disobedient, and therefore surplus to requirements. He is a jealous God, and He particularly doesn't like being ignored, and that's precisely what I've done for the last five years." She smiles sadly, resignedly. "Mary's here to kill me."
Cut to the partly constructed building where Leon's being held. Mary is now standing next to Catherine. A good foot taller than the blonde girl, Mary has placed an elbow on Catherine's shoulder and is casually leaning against her, as both of them regard Leon. Catherine remains poker-faced and emotionless, while Mary has an amused grin. The multi-coloured Anointed One tilts her head towards her apprentice;
"Why don't you go make the final preparations, hun." She says. "I need some quality time with toyboy here."
Catherine turns and leaves as Mary advances on Leon. Halting just in front of him, she bends down stiffly at the waist until her face is directly opposite his, only a couple of inches separating them, and remains there, her hands placed on her knees.
"So tell me, stud," she purrs, "how do you rate Ella in the sack? Considering she's got over four hundred years experience, she must have shown you positions and techniques you couldn't have imagined in your sickest fantasies."
Leon doesn't answer. Instead he tries to coolly meet her gaze, and doesn't do too badly.
"Oo, is this you being all 'strong but silent', or are you merely trying out your 'mean and moody' face on me?" Mary smiles. "Lighten up, bucko. I'd just like to know if Ella's picked up any new tricks since I last ripped her knickers off."
Her words sting him. He tries to hide it, but his eyes widen slightly, and a nerve in his face noticably twitches. Mary giggles and straightens up.
"Oh, come on!" She exclaims, standing in front of him and placing her hands on her hips. "She's been around for four centuries! Do you honestly think there's anything she's not tried or experienced during all that time?"
Leon maintains his silent front, but looks uncomfortable and avoids her gaze. Smiling slyly, Mary steps up to him, places her left leg over his right leg, her right leg over his left, and then sits down, her backside resting on his knees. She rests her elbows on his shoulders and wraps her forearms around the back of his neck. As she's taller than him, her ample breasts – straining against the sports bra that contains them – confront Leon at eye level, and he's forced to look up to see her face.
"You don't believe me." She murmurs, amused. "Think I'm just trying to mess with your head. Well, maybe this will convince you. You know that thing that Ella does with her tongue when she kisses? I seem to recall it goes something like this."
She suddenly lunges and kisses Leon full on the mouth. He tries to pull his head away, but his eyes widen in realisation, then fear and panic as he realises that he can't – his body isn't obeying. Instead, it's actually responding to Mary's hungry, passionate mauling by kissing her back, against his wishes. A muffled wail of distress emerges from Leon for several seconds, until Mary breaks off the kiss.
"There." She declares, resting back on his knees. "Didn't that seem familiar?"
Leon can't look at her. He's upset, scared, borderline tearful. Mary pouts, releases her hold around his neck and reaches out with her right hand to caress the side of his face. He finches slightly at her touch.
"Aww, don't worry baby." She teases. "I just pulled a few of your strings, that's all. Now, you didn't answer my question." She fixes him with a steely gaze.
"Yes." Leon eventually mumbles, still distressed: "Yes, that's how Ella kisses."
Mary immediately brightens;
"There now, that's wasn't so hard to admit, was it?" She chides, then she leans in close, places her mouth next to Leon's ear, and whispers: "Just so we're clear, Ella prefers men, and so do I. But there were many nights when we held each other tight. Sometimes it was just because we were cold. Sometimes it was because one or both of us needed comfort or support. But sometimes… sometimes… it was because we wanted each other. After a hundred years together, we knew how to pleasure each other like no man ever could."
Mary stands up, making sure her breasts and exposed midriff rub against Leon's face as she does so. She turns and walks fifteen feet away from Leon across the bare, dusty floor, then stops and turns again to face him, placing her hands on her hips.
"You've just experienced one of my little tricks." She declares. "Just a simple matter of prodding the central nervous system in the right places, and nudging a few cerebral pathways. Now it's time for my party piece. Ella only ever used telekinesis to occasionally fling the odd inanimate object around. I've found a more subtle, delicate, and precise way of utilising it. For example, I can increase or reduce the amount of blood flowing to parts of the human body. I can create physical stimulation, sensation, and a strong rhymic pressure to specfic muscles and organs." She smiles slyly. "Can you feel it, Leon? Can you feel me?"
Leon gapes at her in sudden surprise, then glances down at his groin in alarm.
"Something seems to be stirring." Mary comments.
"What are you do – stop it!" He yells.
"Hush now, handsome." Purrs Mary. "Just relax and enjoy it. Let's increase the momentum, shall we? Faster!"
Leon cries out, straining against the ropes that bind him to the chair.
"Yes that's it." Mary remarks encouragingly. "Why don't we up the tempo even more. Show me what you're made of."
"Don't!" Begs Leon, his face contorting, his struggles making the chair rock.
"It's true, you know." Mary says cheerfully, ignoring his pleas and tapping a forefinger against her temple. "The best sex is all in the mind."
Leon continues to yell, an agonised howl of pain, frustration, shame and despair.
Cut to Ella's basement flat.
"Time for me to take my leave." Announces Mephistopheles. "I have assisted you all I can."
He takes off his dark glasses, folds and places them in his suit pocket, then turns to leave. Thelma gapes at him.
"You've got eyes!" She exclaims.
"Don't most people?" He remarks.
"Yeah, I know, but – Leon told us you'd lost them." Thelma blurts out.
"Ah, well, even Hell can be merciful on occasions. It was decided that I had suffered enough, and I was allowed to grow them back." He explains.
"Why the dark glasses then?" Queries Midge.
"It was very bright this morning." Mephistopheles opines. "I'll show myself out."
He nods a farewell to the three girls and departs. Ella watches him go, then gazes back down at the envelope she's still clutching.
"Don't you think you ought to open that?" Suggests Thelma.
"I'm afraid to, Thelma." Ella murmurs. Her voice sounds very quiet and small. "If I do, then it makes all of this real."
She pauses, then decisively rips the envelope open and pulls a letter out. It's in the same destinctive, elegant handwriting as the envelope.
"I'm at the location where you last dispatched a Nephilim." Says Ella, reading aloud.
"That's the unfinished office building where we stopped the assassination." Comments Thelma.
Ella looks up and meets Thelma's gaze in mutual realisation.
"She's been watching us for weeks." Ella declares.
Cut to Leon in the chair. His head is slumped forward, his chin almost touching his chest. His body seems limp and the sound of his breathing seems to contain a hint of sobbing. Mary advances towards him. Reaching down and placing her forefinger under his chin, she lifts his head. Leon's face is red and flushed. His hair is damp with sweat, beads of which have collected on his forehead, and tears streak his cheeks. He stares down at the floor, unable to meet her gaze. He looks broken.
"How was it for you?" Asks Mary.
When he doesn't answer, she leans forward and very slowly licks his face, running her tongue along the right side of his jaw and then up his right cheek in one continuous movement, lingering and making the act last uncomfortably long.
Leon grimaces, screws his eyes shut, and tries to turn his head away. But it won't move.
Cut to the exterior of the uncompleted office building where Ella and Thelma encountered the Nephilim. It's night. Ella and Thelma stand outside the building, gazing up at it.
"What can we expect?" Asks Thelma.
"I have no idea." Murmurs Ella grimly. "I was closer to Mary than anyone else I've even met. But I doubt there's anything left of the person I knew." She glances across at Thelma. "She has the upper hand."
They enter the building and walk through the empty lobby.
"No security guards?" Questions Thelma in a whisper.
"I think we can assume Mary and her protégé have seen to them." Ella surmises.
One of the lifts opens, complete with accompanying pinging noise.
"They weren't working the last time we were here." Recalls Thelma.
"I believe that's meant for us." Ella remarks.
"Should we take it? Supposing it's booby-trapped or something? We get in, the cable snaps, we crash to the bottom of the shaft." Thelma opines.
"No." Ella declares with a shake of her head. "No. I may not know Mary anymore, but I think she wants this to be face-to-face."
She moves towards the waiting lift. After a second, Thelma follows. Once in the lift, Thelma looks quizzingly at the floor buttons.
"Top floor?" She asks.
"That's what I'd choose, if I was Mary." Confirms Ella with a nod. "This occasion would seem to demand a sense of the dramatic."
Thelma presses the appropriate button, the doors slide shut and the lift rises. For several seconds the two of them merely stand and watch the floor numbers light up.
"This whole Mary thing is really weird." Thelma suddenly comments, breaking the silence and trying to sound casual. "It's like she's the Callisto to your Xena."
"It's okay Thelma." Ella declares, not taking her eyes off the illuminated numbers. "I'm nervous too."
Several more seconds pass in silence. Then Ella speaks again;
"Did you know that God wanted me to derail the Industrial Revolution?" She remarks, almost conversationally.
"You're kidding!" Exclaims Thelma, but Ella shakes her head;
"He wanted me to eliminate various key engineers and architects whose ideas were becoming popular, plus some doctors and scientists whose theories were gaining influence. It was God's intention to keep Mankind ignorant, suspicious and fearful. The Renaissance had slipped past him, and He didn't want to be caught napping again."
"So what happened?" Thelma asks.
"Fortunately, just as the Revolution was gaining ground, some of the families descended from two members of the Medenham coven emigrated overseas." Explains Ella. "I spent almost a couple of decades tracking them down, by which time the Revolution was too well established to be reversed. God had to realise that even He couldn't stop progress. Shortly thereafter, Mary was appointed my apprentice. "
The lift reaches the top floor. The two girls emerge to be immediately greeted by the sight of three bodies, all men in their early twenties, spralled out on the bare concrete floor. Their throats have all been slit. Ella walks around the grouping of bodies, taking in the positions in which they'd fallen, and the direction, angle and size of the blood splatters that have sprayed on the floors and nearby wall.
"I'm guessing this is the hired muscle." Thelma speculates. "Probably not the payout they were expecting."
Ella nods in agreement;
"Whoever did this is very good and very quick." She reports. "The second and third men died before they had time to react the death of the first. Before the first had even started to fall. Not only that, but the killer had the skill and foresight to avoid being hit by any of the blood sprays."
Thelma is looking across the top floor. Very few dividing walls are standing, and the floor level is separated by temporary partitions of translucent thick plastic sheeting, stretching from floor to ceiling at semi-regular distances. Together, Ella and Thelma start exploring. Rounding one of the partitions, they halt at the sight of a figure tied to a chair, a black cloth bag over it's head. Eight feet directly in front of the figure is a widescreen television with a webcam perched on top. Cables from the television and webcam trail off into the shadows. Thelma and Ella cautiously walk up to the figure, and after quickly glancing around and under the chair for booby traps, Ella pulls the bag off, revealing Leon, who blinks in the light.
"Leon!" Breathes Ella, and she bends down, embraces his head in both hands and impulsively kisses him.
To her surprise, he finches slightly. Breaking off the kiss, she notices how much of a state he's in.
"What's wrong?" She asks, concerned, "What did they do to you?"
Before he gets the chance to answer, the widescreen television directly behind Ella hums into life.
"I'd recognise that pert little arse anywhere." Declares a cheery female voice. "Hello Ella."
Ella stiffens, recognition registering in her face and eyes. She slowly stands up, turns round…. and finds herself confronted by the beaming face of Mary Warren, which is staring out of the television in close up, almost filling the entire screen.
"It's you." Ella says simply, sadly, as though she still doesn't quite believe it.
"You were expecting somebody else?" Mary replies.
Ella doesn't quite know what to say, or how to react. Actually seeing her former partner, still alive, has thrown her.
"No." She eventually murmurs. "No, of course not. Mary… are you alright?"
Mary smiles, as though amused. But the smile is un-nervingly humourless.
"Never better. But what about you?" Mary asks. "You're looking good, Ella. How have you been?"
"Okay. I've been okay." Ella faulters.
"That's not what I hear." Comes the reply. "Ella honey, we really need to talk. I could scarcely believe it when I found out how badly you've fumbled the ball in my absence. Allowing the Messiah of the Fallen Angels to be conceived and born? And then you go and shag the horny bastard?" Mary slowly shakes her head. There's an element of pity in the gesture. Pity and contempt. "What were you thinking?" She murmurs.
As Mary talks, Thelma crouches down, extracts a knive from a scabbard on the side of a distracted Ella's boot, and gets to work on the ropes binding Leon to the chair.
"It never would have happened if I'd still been watching your back." Continues Mary. "Is it any wonder that Heaven wants to cash you in? He may be a jealous God, but He's also a really harsh employer. So don't expect any gold watch or a 'thank you' for a lifetime's service. There's no farewell party, no goodbye card, and the pension really is non-existant."
Thelma has freed one of Leon's hands and started work on the ropes on his left leg. Leon is using his liberated hand to free the other. Ella glances back at her lover and her friend, then faces the screen again.
"Where's Gemma, Mary?" She asks.
"Ah, the blood splattered bride." Mary murmurs. "You know, originally I was thinking we'd just kill her. Then I thought about selling her to some guys I know who'll ship her out to Eastern Europe, get her hooked on crack, and put her to work in a brothel. But finally I decided to just let her go. Provided she gives me what I want."
"And that is?" Asks Ella.
Mary taps the side of her nose with her forefinger.
"Ella, please. What kind of girl do you think I am? We haven't seen each other for so long, this is practically a first date. You can't expect me to reveal everything. Would you respect me in the morning if I did?" She smiles.
Leon stands up, free of the chair, and starts rubbing his wrists while taking a couple of tentative steps forward on his cramped legs. Ella turns and looks at him, and again he glances away. He seems withdrawn, sheepish, embarrassed. Ashamed. Ella steps up to him and reaches up, placing her hand on the side of his face. This time he doesn't finch, but he only manages to glance at her for a spilt second before tearing his eyes away and staring at the floor.
"Leon…?" Murmurs Ella.
"Ella…I…she…" He manages to mumble, but Mary interrupts;
"Oh, for heaven's sake. What he's trying to say is that I took advantage of him, Ella." She declares.
Ella turns her head and stares at Mary's face on the screen as her former partner continues;
"First I kissed him, tongues and all. Then I molested him. In fact, if you wanted you could argue that it was technically rape. But why quibble over words? Either way, your boy's in need of some clean underwear."
Ella glares at Mary, her face a mixture of shock, anger and rapidly fading denial.
"MARY." Ella calls out, a slightly strangled edge to her voice, transforming the name into a simple declaration of pain and growing rage.
"Well, can you blame me?" Says Mary dismissively. "Nearly a hundred years without any action left me with one hell of an itch to scratch. But if it makes you feel any better, when I did the deed I swear I didn't lay a finger on him. You know what they say – the most powerful sexual organ is the brain." Mary concludes, wearing a calm, maddening smile. Then the screen goes dead.
Her whole body tense, Ella stares at the black screen for several seconds, as though expecting Mary's mocking face to reappear. Then she takes a deep breath, releases it, relaxes her shoulders, and turns to Leon.
"I'm sorry." He mumbles. "I –"
She hushes him by stepping up to him and gently kissing him on the lips.
"You have nothing to apologise for. Nothing." Ella says, reaching up, holding his face in both hands and looking him directly in the eyes. "I love you, Leon Taylor."
Thelma coughs self-consiously.
"What do we do now?" She asks.
"Finding Gemma is our first priority." Declares Ella. "If we bump into Mary or Catherine Cotton in the progress…well, we'll deal with that scenario when we come to it." She looks at Leon. "Do you have any idea where Gemma might be?"
He shakes his head: "I haven't seen or heard of her since they brought me here." He reports.
"We'll split up and search the rest of this floor." Decides Ella.
Leon and Ella head off in one direction, carefully looking around the plastic sheet partitions, while Thelma wanders off towards the opposite end of the level, doing the same. Their search having proved fruitless, Ella and Leon are heading back to where Leon was held captive, when they hear Thelma shout;
"Guys? I think you need to look at this."
Running around several partitions, they find Thelma crouched in front of sixteen large oil drums, placed in four rows of four. A black box, about the size of a briefcase and made of toughened, rugged-looking fibreglass, is attached to one of the drums, and through a glass-covered opening on the front of the box a red, bright digital readout can clearly be seen. The readout says 05:00. A mass of curling insulated wires leads away from the black box, trailing to each of the oil drums. A couple of feet from the drums there is a widescreen television topped by a webcam, identical to the one seen earlier.
"When this goes off and ignites the petrol, it'll create a sudden burst of fire and a rapidly expanding wall of flame." Thelma says over her shoulder as she examines the device attached to the drums. "It's not intended to destroy the building or even cause any serious structural damage. It's just meant to burn anything caught in the initial fireball to a crisp."
As Ella and Leon approach Thelma, the television switches on, and Mary appears.
"And the motion sensors tell me you've found one of my little welcoming gifts." She declares, still smiling. "Hope you like the colour."
"One of?" Queries Ella.
"I've got identical packages set up on each of the top five floors." Explains Mary. "And instead of petrol, every eighth drum is full of an artificially produced, extremely combustible liquid accelerant, as used by all the best professional arsonists. Some might call that overkill. I wouldn't."
"Alright Mary, what do you want?" Murmurs Ella.
"World peace, a harem of gorgeous men to call my own, and the sky coloured pink, but I doubt I'm going to get it." Mary cheerfully snaps back. "Ella, you silly goose. I'm here to kill you, remember? Me. Kill. You. Savvy?"
Ella glances over at the drums and the accompanying device, then back at the screen.
"You're going to burn down the building, just to kill me?" She questions.
"What were you expecting, love?" Grins Mary. "You and me, in an epic confrontation? A fight to the finish? Pistols at dawn? Lightning swords of death? Sorry. That may be your way of doing things, it's not mine. Not anymore. Well, let's wrap this up. I've got things to do."
The readout in the device starts to count down. 04:59. 04:58.
"You've got less than five minutes to get clear." Mary remarks. "Oh, and I've just shut down the lifts. Suggest you take the stairs. Or you could try your luck and jump out a window. Ciao."
The television switches off. Using the knive she took from Ella, Thelma finds a seem in the side of the black box and starts trying to prise it open.
"Get out of here." Says Thelma, not looking away from what she's doing. "I'll do what I can here."
"Thelma, even if you knew how to defuse it, there's another four devices below." Ella points out. "Leave it. Come with us."
"They might be interlinked. Share a common circuit. Stop one, and maybe you stop all of them." Thelma counters. "Yes, I know I'm grasping at straws, but Gemma might still be here somewhere, so I've got to do something – I'm the only one who can. What are you so worried about? I'm already dead, remember? GO!"
"She's right Ella. C'mon." Says Leon, gently but firmly pulling her arm.
Ella takes a final look at Thelma as the front of the black box comes away, revealing the device's innards. Then she runs with Leon in the direction of the stairwell. Thelma feverishly studies the mass of wires, circuit boards and batteries that are the guts of the device. Suddenly the television comes back on, and Mary surveys the scene.
"So, Ella and her beau have scarpered have they?" She remarks. "They must be a couple of floors down by now. You know, since they're almost out of harm's way, why don't we shorten the countdown a little? It'll be our little secret, just between you and me."
Thelma glances up, just in time to see the display on the clock suddenly change from 03:48 to 00:30. It continues counting down from it's new setting. 00:29. 00:28.
"That's not fair!" Thelma spits.
"Nothing in life is." Counters Mary. "You should know that better than anyone, girlfriend."
"I'm not your friend." Replies Thelma coolly, ignoring Mary's visage on the screen and trying to concentrate on the task at hand.
"Hey, any friend of Ella's is a friend of mine." Trills Mary.
"You're not Ella's friend either." Thelma murmurs, tracing the course of a wire.
Mary giggles.
"What, you've been hanging around her for five years, and you think you know her?" She queries. "Try holding a struggling, terrified teenage girl down, clamping a hand over her mouth to stop her screams while Ella slits her throat. Do that a couple of dozen times, then we can compare notes. Oops. Time's up."
Thelma looks at the reading. 00:02. 00:01.
"Crap." She mutters.
BOOM. The device explodes in Thelma's face, turning her world into an eyesearingly bright white flash, and immediately igniting both the petrol and the accelerant, causing the large metal drums to burst apart like firecrackers. As the fireball erupts and expands in all directions, the top half of one of the drums rockets straight up on a pillar of flame, hits the exposed concrete ceiling, ricochets downwards, smacks into Thelma and sends her flying backwards.
Cut to the street outside, a couple of seconds earlier. Ella and Leon are emerging from the front of the building when they hear the first explosion like a close clap of thunder. They glance up just in time to see a large cloud of flame burst out of the top floor of the building on all four sides, billowing out into the night sky. A split second later a similar explosion erupts out of the floor immediately below, followed by a series of equally impressive fireballs hungrily flowering into life on the next three floors, one after another, just a blink of an eye separating them. The concussion of the explosions sets off every car alarm in a half-mile radius. Ella and Leon duck back into the lobby as debris starts to rain down. Everything that wasn't fixed down has been blown out of the top five floors – plus some items that were firmly secured, but have been tore free by the blasts. Suddenly, over the car alarms, the sounds of the flames and the echoes of the explosions still bouncing off nearby buildings, Ella and Leon hear something else. A wailing noise. They look out just in time to see Thelma – having been hurtled out of the top floor, before plunging, yelling, all the way down - fall the last few feet and land spreadeagled on the pavement. Although mindful of further debris, Leon and Ella rush out and crouch either side of her. Thelma lays still, eyes open, a dazed look frozen on her face.
"Thelma?" Ella murmurs. "Are you –"
"Still dead." Interupts Thelma, sitting up, then getting to her feet, rubbing and shaking dust and ash off her medical strubs and out of her hair as she does so. "I wouldn't recommend that." She comments, gazing up in the direction she's just come from.
Leon and Ella also straighten up, all three of them looking at the top of the building. The clouds of flame have been replaced by thick, black, billowing smoke.
"Do you think Gemma was up there?" Asks Thelma grimly.
"Mary said she'd release her." Murmurs Leon.
"Yeah, but Mary's madder than a box of frogs." Thelma points out.
"I don't know." Comments Ella quietly. "Just like I don't know why Mary didn't detonate the bomb when we were standing next to it. If she was intent on killing me, why give us any time to get clear at all? I just don't know."
"Hey," exclaims Thelma "how did you get down here so fast? There's no way you could have made down all those stairs in the time you did."
"I know." Replies Ella. "So we didn't try the stairs. Instead we forced open the lift doors, I took my coat off, Leon grabbed hold of me and we leapt together into the shaft. I managed to throw my coat around the lift cable and hold it tight, then we slid down the cable. As we got close to the bottom, I tightened the coat around the cable and was able to slow us down to a safe speed. Simple when you know how."
Thelma notices that Ella's leather coat is sporting burns, serious tears and is actually smoking in places.
"Don't worry." Says Ella, noticing her gaze. "There are powerful magicks in this garment. By the time we get home, it'll be as good as new."
"Actually, can we stop off at the morgue on the way home?" Asks Thelma, looking down at her scrubs, which – despite her earlier efforts – are covered in a scattering of fine ash and dust. "I really need a change of clothes."
The three of them move off as the sounds of multiple sirens gets closer.
"Thelma," comments Ella as they walk, "how come you seemed to know so much about the destructive power of that device?"
"Oh, too many nights spent randomly trawling the internet." Thelma replies. "You come across the weirdest things while searching for some decent girl-on-girl. One of the advantages of never having to sleep, I suppose. Anyway," she remarks "what I want to know is how Mary knew about your bottom being so pert. I mean, I know it is because I've looked."
Cut to Jo's bedroom, in her quarters in the New Church's London headquarters. Wearing only a black bra and matching thong, Jo is lying on a thick, black Persian rug on the floor, stretching and flexing her limbs with a contented smile and blissful expression on her face. On the four poster bed nearby, a muscular, handsome man in his early twenties is lying unconscious and spreadeagled, his wrists and ankles bound with tightly stretched leather cords, the other ends of which are tied to each of the four bedposts. Corvide enters, wearing a black business suit with short skirt, and glances towards the young man on the bed.
"Isn't that –" She begins.
"Aaron Michaels," Confirms Jo, sitting up. "Former teen boy band heart-throb, before leaving the group and finding solo success. Branched out into acting two years ago, and became a Hollywood sensation overnight. He's got three gold discs, two of his films were amongst the ten biggest box office successes of last year, and he's constantly in the top five of womens' magazine polls to find the world's most lusted after male. He joined the Californian branch of the New Church eighteen months ago. He visits us everytime he's in the UK."
"I thought he was dating that It girl turned singer?" Queries Corvide.
"Yes, Samantha James." Comments Jo. "But they split up a month ago when she wouldn't consider converting to the New Church. For someone so young, he's gained quite a reputation as a womaniser. His tally includes four supermodels, two girl group members, plus a dozen or so rumoured dalliances with lap dancers."
"And now you." Remarks Corvide dryly.
Jo smiles smugly.
"I thought I'd see if he lived up to his reputation." She says simply. "He didn't do too badly, though I was a bit too much for him. If I hadn't eased off, his heart would have given out."
Stepping up to the bed, Corvide reaches down with her left hand and runs her long black fingernails over the man's chest. He shudders slightly, but doesn't waken.
"Are you finished with him?" She enquires.
"He's all yours." Replies Jo. "Just be mindful that he has an appearance on daytime television tomorrow. Now, what was it you wanted to see me about?"
"I have news." Murmurs Corvide, still looking down at Michaels as she weaves invisible and elaborate swirling patterns on his chest with her nails, taking care not to scratch him. "Our search team in the Kyrgyzstan mountains have sent a communiqué. They have located the final scroll." She turns and looks at Jo, as the ex-teacher gets to her feet. "Once they bring it here, the Grimlore will be complete. We expect their arrival within forty eight hours."
"Excellent." Jo beams. "And the search for the other item?"
"It's been confirmed that within the last three days, we have obtained two first-generation copies. We are closer than ever before." Says Corvide, taking her suit jacket off and simply dropping it on the floor.
"Very good." Murmurs Jo. "Everything's on schedule."
Still facing the ex-teacher, Corvide continues to undress.
"Would you like to stay and watch?" She asks.
Final scene: Ella and Leon's bedroom in semi-darkness. Leon is lying on his back on the mattress, only his head, shoulders and arms visible above the duvet, his eyes closed and a look of contentment in his face. Something – someone - stirs under the duvet, approximately where Leon's groin would be, and we realise he's not alone. The shape moves, as whoever's under the duvet starts to travel over Leon's stomach and chest. Taking hold of the edge of the duvet, Leon lifts it up and looks undermeath.
"Stopping so soon?" He says, smiling.
An equally smiling face, topped by a mass of bright red and green hair, emerges from under the duvet;
"We're only just getting started, lover." Declares Mary.
Leon wakes up screaming, sitting bolt upright. Eyes wide, breathing heavily, he looks around at the walls of the bedroom and the clothes hanging there. Having been woken by Leon's yell, Ella groggily starts to sit up next to him. Still half-asleep, she props herself up with one arm, rubbing one of her eyes with her free hand, then running her fingers through her bed-hair.
"What's the matter?" She half-yawns.
"Sorry." Says Leon, wide awake and managing to calm down. "Bad dream. Didn't mean to wake you."
"'s alright." Mumbles Ella, yawning again, "It's been quite a day."
Leon manages a grin at this piece of understatement.
"That it has." He declares.
He looks across at Ella, who smiles sleepily at him. She looks adorable, bed hair and all.
"I love you." Says Leon simply, then he leans across and they kiss, both closing their eyes as they do so.
The kiss ends and their faces move apart. Leon opens his eyes... and Mary looks back at him, her black lipgloss smeared over the side of her mouth.
"What would Ella say?" She declares.
Leon wakes with a startled yelp, lying on his back on the mattress. A hand touches his shoulder and he jerks his head to see who it is. Ella is lying next to him, resting on her side, tired but also awake.
"Are you okay?" She asks.
He pauses, then nods and smiles, hoping that in the semi-darkness it looks convincing.
"Yeah." He says, trying to sound reassuring. "Yeah, I'm fine."
Ella smiles and moves closer to him. He raises his arm and she slips underneath it, resting her head on his shoulder as he puts his arm around her. She places her arm across his chest, hugging him in return. Ella closes her eyes. She's faced one of her demons today and survived. The future may be more uncertain than ever, but right now, lying in the arms of her man, regardless of what tomorrow may bring, she feels content, warm, and safe.
In contrast, Leon stares fixedly at the ceiling. He won't sleep tonight.
