DISCLAIMER: I was going to write something witty and insightful here but I just can't be bothered. Two months of musical rehearsals have left me exhausted; Dylan Moran can mock me all he wants, but acting is tiring. Check back with me next week when my brain and my vocal chords have had time to recover.
In the meantime, know that all Shaun of the Dead characters belong to Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg. See if you can spot those "clever boys" in zombie form in George Romero's Land of the Dead in theaters this week.
Upon hearing Ashford's announcement, Julian sighed and ran his hands through his hair while Sara cursed under her breath and collapsed against the windowsill. Shaun merely stared at the detective, awaiting details.
"All three women died within minutes of each other," Detective Ashford continued. "Throttled with a bedsheet, fell…or quite possibly, pushed out a third story window, and shot by my men for coming at them with a carving knife screaming like a banshee." She sat down calmly on the settee. "Respectively."
"A lot of people are going to die, Shaun…" Shaun mumbled under his breath.
"What?" Sara whispered, pulling him aside.
"That's what my mum told me, she said a lot of people would die."
"Anything you'd care to share with the group, Mr. Riley?" the detective prompted.
"No, no, nothing…when did this happen?"
"In the last hour, amazingly," Ashford replied. "It's a zoo down there, apparently they've had to confine Miss Fairfax to her room because she's gone mental."
"She is mental," Julian corrected. "Look, detective, I am perfectly clear on the fact that you'd like nothing more than for my colleagues and I…"
"Colleagues, plural?" Shaun repeated. He whispered to Sara. "Oh, I forgot to tell you, Julian gave me provisional Council status."
"That's…great," Sara whispered back. "No, really, it's fantastic. I just hope I didn't hit him on the head too hard."
"Oh, thanks."
"I didn't mean it like that. Welcome back, Riley," she winked.
"For my colleagues and I," Julian continued, "to pack it all in and go back to London, but the questions are piling up faster than you and the Keystone Cops can look for answers." Ashford looked taken aback, but allowed him to go on. "You're not going to find them without our help. I do apologize for the death and destruction, but unless you want loads more of it, I'd like to request…no I'd like to beg you, to allow us to try and do our job."
"I definitely hit him too hard," Sara whispered to Shaun, "He begged someone. Crazy."
Ashford stood, smoothed out her skirt and walked toward the door. "Well, while you three await orders from that Grand High Council of yours, I've informed my men to establish a perimeter around the building."
The trio of Julian, Sara, and Shaun tried to stifle their laughter.
"Sorry, am I missing the joke?"
"A perimeter? As if that's going to do any good," Shaun mocked.
"Right. Don't you watch TV?" Sara asked. "A police perimeter is as useless as…snow tires in Miami…"
"Umbrella during a flood…." Shaun added.
"Earplugs at a Metallica concert…." Sara elaborated.
"…or a sequel to The Matrix," Shaun continued.
"Say no more," Sara concluded.
Julian summarized, "If Maggie or Pru or whoever wants to get out, they'll get out. Your men won't stop them."
Ashford stood in the doorway and faced the three of them, lips pursed. "I'll do things my way, you do things yours." She looked directly at Sara. "And you're not going to get your weapons back."
"I'll manage," Sara glowered.
Shaun whispered into Sara's ear. "It's okay, I have the Little Book of Really Useful Spells in my back pocket."
"Clever boy."
"Thanks."
"Detective Ashford!" An officer standing in the main shop entrance suddenly hollered in their direction. "You'd better come and have a look at this!" The four of them scrambled from the back of the shop, darting around the examining officers and spilled out into the street. What they saw froze them on the cobblestones where they stood.
"Oh…my…God," Detective Ashford uttered.
"Sara, stay here. I should, uh…I should call this in," Julian said.
Sara and Shaun drew closer together and held each other's hand tightly, staring down Penrith High Street into the distance. Over the moon-lit hillocks, a supernatural green glow had misted over and enveloped a structure. No one had any doubt what building it was.
"Who?" Shaun asked. Even though they both knew the answer.
"Pru," Sara replied.
Meanwhile, in the depths of the misty green fortress, Pru was taking advantage of the chaos and confusion. As the officers on site called for reinforcements, she slipped easily through the front door of the Eden River Inn. Dodging cops and staff, she made her preparations in the kitchen in relative silence; then, plan set in motion, she crept up to the east wing and made her way to Evelyn's room.
A uniformed officer stood by the door and held up his hand as she approached. "I'm sorry, ma'am. You can't go in there."
Pru regarded him with derision. Waving her hand in front of his face, she calmly suggested "Take a nap," and the policeman's eyes rolled back in his sockets; losing consciousness, he crashed to the floor. She brusquely stepped over him and insistently knocked on the door.
"Who is it?"
"Evelyn, dear, it's Pru," she replied, her voice rife with feigned concern. "I heard about what's been happening, the whole village is in a state. I wanted to see if you were all right."
Mrs. Fairfax cracked open the door; she looked worse for the wear, dark circles under her eyes. She peered around Pru nervously. "They said I wasn't to have any visitors."
"I'm not a visitor, dear. I'm your friend. And I'm here to help you."
Evelyn hesitated for a moment, then opened the door. Pru entered the room, pushing one of the hotel's carts with a tea service on it. "I brought you some herbal tea."
"Oh, bless you, Pru. Your concoctions always calm my nerves."
Pru poured a cup and handed it to Evelyn as she took a seat at the table by the window.
"What's in this?" Evelyn asked, taking a sip.
"A little jasmine, some ginseng—it should help you rest."
"I can't seem to sleep at all these days. Things have gone so very wrong, Pru."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I mucked up the spell that you gave me to summon the vengeance demon, and all those girls started dying. Tara--she was on my staff! Not the most reliable girl but for goodness sake, Pru, she was just a child. And then these government agents started asking me questions."
"Government agents?"
"Something called the Council. They were blaming all these girls' deaths on me. They wouldn't believe me when I said it was an accident. But then that woman died this morning here in the hotel. I didn't know what to do, they started asking me questions about how I'd summoned the demon…but… I didn't tell them anything."
"No?"
Evelyn fussed with the collar of her dressing gown, and though Pru knew she was lying, she allowed her to finish. "Of course not. They wanted me to think that you had betrayed me. That you'd tampered with evidence to make me look guilty. But I know that's not true. They tried to convince me that you were using me, that I was just part of your grander scheme," she chuckled.
"They said I was using you?"
"They have some crazy idea that you're trying to take over the world or something."
"Oh for heaven's sake, dear, nothing quite so momentous. Though I am flattered that the Council is giving me so much credit. I mean, they sent a slayer after me! I have finally hit the big time, Evie."
Evelyn lowered her cup and puzzled at her friend. "The big time? What on earth are you talking about? And what is a slayer?"
"Young girl who I'm guessing recently took up residence here at the inn. Pretty…angry… pretty angry. I gather she's the one who did a number on your wrist." Evelyn blanched and self-consciously removed her bruised wrist from the table and placed her left hand in her lap. "She did a number on my shop as well."
"I'm so sorry, Pru. Were you hurt?" Evelyn asked, not seeing any cuts or bruises on Pru.
"No, no, I'm fine. In fact, I'm rather amused that the slayer and her Council cronies thought they could stop me. But I'll let you in on a little secret, since we're such old and dear friends." She leaned in closer, smiling deviously; Evelyn backed into the chair so far she nearly toppled backward.
"They're too late."
Evelyn's eyes widened. "Oh my God, they were right! You were behind all of this. And you used me."
"I'm afraid so."
"And now you're going to kill me," Evelyn said softly with a trembling voice. "Aren't you?"
"There, there…" Pru removed her shawl and retrieved her leather satchel from under the tablecloth on the service cart. She began to rummage through it while Evelyn's shaking hands clattered the cup and saucer. "Granted, I really should come up with a suitably painful reprisal for spilling the beans to that slayer and her rat-faced handler."
"Pru, I swear to you, I didn't…"
"Yes, you did." She spun around and pointed a black-handled, double-edged dagger at Evelyn, who shrieked; Pru simply tittered and backed away, placing the dagger in a sheath on her waist. "You reek of deception. But what's done is done. At any rate I'm not going to kill you. Not just yet."
Back in the village, as raindrops began to fall on the Penrith streets, Julian ducked under the awning of the curio shop and hurriedly dialed a number on his cell phone. "It's West, put me through to Archives."
"Council Archives, bloodsuckers beware," the cheery voice greeted.
"Nic, it's Julian again. Why are you still in the office?"
"Michael asked me to be on call when you didn't report in earlier. He's a bit concerned. What's going on up there?"
"Very bad things, as per usual. Uh, can you do a search on a Prunella Davies?"
"Sure." Momentary silence as she input info into her computer. "Current residence: Penrith, England. Occupation: Shopkeeper."
"Was her name always Davies?"
"No. She married a Sergeant Major Davies in 1972, he died a few years later. Her maiden name is Winfield."
"Uh-huh…that's what I needed to know. Thanks, Nic," Julian concluded, as Sara and Shaun rushed up to seek shelter with him under the awning.
"Ooh, ooh, let me talk to her," Sara pleaded, grasping for the phone. "Nicster!"
"Hey, sunshine! Where've you been all day?"
"Busy."
"Not pining over Shaun, I hope. Look, I met this really great guy at the comic shop. He failed to fully appreciate Frank Miller's early work, but I think he'd be perfect for you."
"Yeah, that's nice. Nic, I have a question about Velkor demons. Can you find a usage for their scales? Do they have any…I dunno, magical or curative properties?"
"Hmm…let's see, Velkor scales. Very rare, ergo very expensive. Ground up and mixed into a cream, it makes an ancient exfoliant that was the Phoenician answer to botox. Marinated in a soup with leeks and beef broth, it was a highly expensive meal served exclusively to Assyrian nobility. And dissolved into a certain kind of herbal tea, Zoroastrian priests used it to turn their bodies into spiritual conduits."
"Okay, that's bad."
"Why is that bad?"
"Because a psycho spirit is about to be given an open invitation to our world."
"Oh, well, is that all? I'm sure it's nothing you can't handle. Fight. Win. And call me when you get back, I miss our little chats."
"Yeah, sure thing." Sara ended the call and handed the phone back. "Turns out Velkor scales are a secret ingredient for channeling spirits," she explained. "Before she disappeared into thin air, Pru said that she was shifting the paradigm, letting those who do value life take over from those that don't."
"What, she's making a living human into a host for her great, great…erm, how many greats?…" Shaun inquired.
"Lots," said Sara.
"…several great grandmother? Or is she an auntie?"
"This is something I never thought I'd have to deal with," Julian commented.
"You're telling me," Sara sighed. "I never thought I'd use 'shifting the paradigm' in a sentence."
"Pru's going to create a conduit for her ancestor Maggie," Julian declared.
"So…who's the conduit?" Shaun inquired.
Inside her rooms back at the Inn, Evelyn Fairfax began to wonder why she was having trouble focusing, and the room had begun to spin. It seemed vaguely as though the mist that had settled on the grounds outside had begun to creep into the room, but it had a queer green color to it. Suddenly she felt very cold, despite the hot tea she had been…
"Oh…Pru, what have you done," she asked. The figure of her friend, who had suddenly knelt at the end of the bed speaking in some strange language she didn't understand, and was now enshrouded in the mist. A hissing…no, a whispering…bounced back and forth across the room, and frightened Evelyn so that she dropped her cup, shattering it.
"What have you done!" she demanded, stumbling back into the corner and cowering.
"Bas omirum fidati," Pru bellowed. "The time is now, spirit of my blood. My kindred, I beseech you…grant me the strength to bring you forth unto this world!" Her outstretched arms began to spark with green light, and Evelyn hid her face in her hands. The whispers mounted into a buzz, into a cacophonous white noise that caused the furniture to tremble. Suddenly there was a flash of green light as a spectral burst shot from all four corners of the room and settled on Pru's body. Evelyn shut her eyes tight, terrified…
…and after a few moments, it stopped. She breathed hard, still recoiled against the wall as she heard a mischievous laughter that sounded unnatural, yet…familiar. Still woozy from whatever she'd been drugged with, she lifted her head and grasped for support as the mist began to part; footsteps approached.
"Don't try to stand, Evie," a silken, sultry female voice instructed. "You'll only keel right over at this point." Evelyn's pulse raced as a young woman approached her, wearing Pru's long beaded skirt and a black corset wrenched tight around her willowy frame. Kneeling before her, she got a good look at the girl…short-cropped auburn hair, elegant cheekbones and luminous, almond-shaped lavender eyes.
"It c-c-can't be," Evelyn stuttered, aghast and rapt at the same time. But it was…beautiful yet horrible, a vision she hadn't seen in almost thirty years. "Pru?"
"Indeed," the witch leered. "Not a day older than twenty. I mean, I've been able to keep myself rather fit using a few special tricks of mine and I held that miserable young slayer off rather well earlier. But for what is about to come, I felt I really ought to be in peak physical shape…and Aunt Maggie was happy to oblige."
"Who…who is…" Evelyn's breath became shallow, and her head lolled to and fro. Young Pru grabbed her jaw and shook her head roughly.
"Patience, love, you'll meet her soon." The witch stood, swiftly hoisted the unconscious innkeeper over her shoulder and started for her satchel. "In fact…you two are going to about to become very, very close…"
On Penrith High Street, Detective Ashford was being cautiously avoided by the trio on their way to Julian's car.
"I think maybe we should take the Jag instead," Sara suggested, making a quick bolt for the driver's side door, but Julian intercepted her.
"Sorry, where did you get this Jag?"
"From Evelyn Fairfax."
"You obtained this vehicle by completely legal means?"
"She gave it to us willingly," she stated. "After I broke her wrist. A bit." Julian began to protest, but Sara cut him off. "Hey, you were in trouble. I had to do what was necessary to rush to your aid."
"I think you've done enough rushing for one day," he said, snatching the keys out of her hand. "I promise I'll step on it, but we need to make it there in one piece." He grinned as Sara made a sour face and proceeded to slide across the hood of the car to the other side, where Shaun stood with the rear door open and his mouth agape.
"I can't believe you just slid across the hood like Starsky and Hutch."
"Why?"
"I wanted to do that." Shaun pouted. Sara puckered her lips at him as they got in the car and Julian fired up the engine.
"Are we ready?"
"Can you ask me that again when we get a little closer?" Shaun replied.
"Tick tock, Jules…" Sara insisted.
"Right. Let's nab us a witch," Julian said, and peeled away from the curb to the sound of a thunderclap and Ashford's shouts of protest.