SIX
.
John opened the door to the mill house. He peeled off his coat as he went down the wooden steps, Chas hot on his heels. They went along the upper landing to the iron steps to hear happy voices below, and then their impatient traipse down said stairs presented them with Zed and Nayda laughing from the sofas.
"Alright then?" John asked.
Zed looked over. "Nayda and I were just… talking. About things."
"And what would these 'things' be?" he asked suspiciously, making his way over to the sofa. He dropped his trenchcoat over the back, right next to the part currently occupied by Nayda. He rested his elbows on the top and leant over to look from one woman to the other.
Chas went to the end of the other couch, a few feet from Zed's comfortable slouch, and let himself plonk down onto it with feeling. "I don't care," he muttered. "I just want this thing figured out."
"So do I," Nayda said. She turned her head to look up at John. "Although that would mean I'd have to go home to New York sooner."
"Well what is there to hang around here for?" he said sourly. He pushed himself up from the sofa and walked off toward the large wooden table.
Nayda's expression turned ever so slightly disappointed. Zed's head tilted to one side as she considered this, but then Nayda looked at Chas. "I take it you didn't get what you wanted from tonight's secret outing?"
"We can scratch our only suspect off the list," Chas sighed. "It is not Elena Ashmore. In fact, she had a really good reason not to hurt Roberta."
"What's that?" Nayda asked brightly.
Chas sat up to meet her eyes. "Well… This is going to be hard for you to hear, but—"
"Politics," John interrupted loudly. He came back over and stood by the arm of the sofa, his hands in his pockets. "She needed Roberta to be the boss for a bit longer. Once she'd got more of a toe hold on the whole thing, then she might have had a chance of taking over from her. Now, though? She's going to get shunted back to her own job in a week or so once they've had their board meetings and decided they want to bring in someone more experienced."
Chas frowned at John. He simply looked back at him, his every pore impervious to scrutiny. "That's what you're going with?" Chas warned.
John spun on his heel. "Actually, I'm going to find something to summon the rum bugger seeing as I can't do much else." He crossed the room and was lost to the bookshelves.
Zed looked across at Chas. "What's eating him?"
"Dead end," Chas said. "Sorry, ladies. Looks like this is going to take longer than we thought. I think we should all get some sleep."
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Zed asked quietly.
"Oh, you've done enough," he said. "His Satanic Majesty's already told me off for letting you help the last time."
.
ooOoo
.
Zed came down the steps cautiously, to be greeted by the sudden and complete thrashing racket of some kind of repetitive bashing and warbling noise. She put her fingers to her ears and headed for the table. "John!" she shouted over the noise. "Hey!"
He turned from the table, his face all about surprise. "What's the matter with you?"
"Turn it down!" she cried.
He reached across the table and picked up a remote control, pressing something repeatedly.
The music gently faded until it was quiet enough for Zed to appreciate her ears ringing. She let them go and frowned at him. "What was that awful noise? And how did I not hear it until I got down the stairs?"
He smiled. "Never Mind the Bollocks, and—"
"I couldn't help it, it was really loud!" she protested.
"No, that's the name of the album, love," he chuckled. She 'oh'ed. "Dampening spell," he added. "Didn't want to wake the whole house any earlier than I had to."
She walked around him to the table. It was covered in books that looked as though someone had carefully left them to ferment and pickle themselves inside their heavy leather covers. "Did you find anything?"
His good cheer disappeared, submarining back under the air of resigned cynicism pervading the room. "No. It's like the bloody thing is hiding from me."
"Change the music. You need something uplifting," she said, preoccupied. Her eyes went over the pages splayed out all over the surface.
"This is uplifting."
"You call this comfort music?" she asked in surprise, looking up at him.
"Each to their own." She watched him sit at the table. His elbow went into the wood and the attached hand went into his hair. "Why isn't it here? What am I missing?" he grumped.
"You'll find it," she said. "You always find something."
"Yeah yeah," he grumbled. "John'll just pull something out of his arse like he always does. Well what if I don't, Zed? What if this thing gets sic'd on someone else? What if the thing gets free of whoever thinks they're commanding it?"
Her eyes rolled up to him, large and apologetic. "This isn't on you, John. You didn't set it free."
"No, but I bloody well should've got it back in the bottle before now."
A voice called from above suddenly. "Jooooohn! Turn the TV on, now!"
"We have a TV?" Zed asked.
John picked up the remote control and pressed. The music snapped off as he hurried across the room and vaulted over a sofa. He landed in the darkest corner of the room, Zed hurrying round the furniture to see what he was up to.
He pulled a small, ancient looking television set from the floor area. He carried the white plastic item to the table and set it down, the power cable trailing behind it to dangle the plug a foot from the floor. It swung about as he reached out and turned the large silver knob on the left of the casing.
"But it's not even—. Oh," Zed marvelled, as the set sprang into life.
Chas was pounding down the stairs, followed by Nayda. They had matching lengths of grass in their hands as they stopped by the table.
Zed came to stand behind them as they all gazed at the pictures on the TV - a news report. A man was standing in front of a familiar-looking house, talking rapidly at the screen as an ambulance and a fire truck shone their lights from their roofs, people hurrying to and fro.
"That's Elena's house," Chas said quietly.
John reached over and turned the volume up.
"…Just a few hours ago. Police are looking for anyone who saw visitors to the victim's house, at any time last evening or during the night. Once again, this was a horrific attack on a single woman in a decent neighbourhood. Neighbours have come forward to say that the woman, who cannot yet be named for legal reasons, was relatively new to the area but was a kind and generous neighbour. She was well liked by the children around here, and even though she worked long hours, she always gave time to the community at holidays and festival times. Back to you, Sheena."
The scene swapped to a studio, with a man and a woman behind a large news desk. John put his hands to the table. He leant on them with all of his soul. His head dangled on his neck.
Zed came forward and snapped off the TV.
It was silent.
Until John's hands convulsed in a sudden jerk of rage. They swept two or three hefty books and a pile of papers from the surface. He dragged in a deep breath. "Bollocks!" he roared.
Zed stepped away quickly. Chas gestured back with his head and she retreated cautiously, her eyes watching for sign of more violence. He felt Nayda handing him fistfuls of grass. He took them quickly, lest they tumble from her hand and land on the floor. She looked back as John lunged along the table edge, shoving every other book off the top, shouting something that turned the air blue with its hatred.
"John, calm down," she said firmly.
"That was her! Elena! We were just there last night!" he shouted. He turned on her, making Chas prepare himself for a flying rugby tackle should John let his anger get the better of him, the grass in his hands be damned.
"I'm getting that," she shot back. "But you throwing a tantrum like a child is not going to help us!"
"She's dead, Nayda! We saw her last night and we found she had absolutely nothing to do with any of this!" he raged. "How do we know the bastard thing didn't just follow us there? Was it aiming for us and got her instead? For all we know I just killed a woman while I was bumbling round thinking I had it all figured out!"
"Stop!" she shouted into his face. "Stop. Take a breath."
"And what will that do?" he cried.
She put firm hands to his head, holding him still. "John," she said quietly. "Maybe it was your fault. Maybe she did die because of you. Shouting about this will not make you feel better. You already know this."
He glared at her, his chest heaving in air, his eyes harder and more fierce than any she had ever seen.
"You are… so very angry. For the people you can't save," she whispered. "But remember all the people you have saved. And then pull yourself together and help us find a way out of this. You said before you'd just summon it here and send it back to Hell. What if you can't do that? Can you at least find it?"
He closed his eyes, his head tilting to one side. Eventually he opened them again. "Maybe," he breathed. He put his hands up and slid hers from him, letting them go smartly. "I'll need some things."
He turned and went to the door at the end. He hurled it open. A second later it was slamming behind his angry tread.
"Phew!" Zed said, in a loud, embarrassed voice. "Lucky he didn't lose his temper."
Chas wiped a hand down his face. "You should see him when he really cuts loose."
"Do we wait for him to come back? Or do we go help him?" Nayda asked.
"I think we leave him to the house," Chas said wisely. "You might not find what you want down that corridor."
Zed eyed him but said nothing. Instead she went round the table and began to pick up books and scattered papers. Nayda turned and helped her, and between them, they had everything back on the surface.
"At least it's shaken the dust off some of these," Zed said with a small smile. Chas put his handfuls of grass on the table, making Zed pick up a blade and sniff it gingerly. "What is this?" she asked.
"Potehenya grass," Nayda smiled.
"Is it used for white magic?" Zed asked, fascinated.
"You could say that," Nayda grinned. "I make tea with it."
"Does it help you sleep?" Zed asked. "Because if it does, I might force some down John's throat sometime soon."
"It does, yes," Nayda said quietly. "I'll leave some here."
Zed studied the grass for a moment or two, before smiling at Nayda and putting it down.
The door at the end of the room opened abruptly and John appeared. He carried a wooden box to the table with the air of a man who had kicked and shouted himself out, and felt much more balanced for it. He looked around at everyone. "You lot still here? You must be desperate for entertainment."
"Actually… we thought you'd take longer," Zed said.
John looked at his watch. "It's been two hours."
"What?" She leant over and checked the watch face. Then she looked at Chas.
"It's ten fifteen," Chas shrugged.
"It's twelve fifteen," John countered. Then he turned and stared back at the open door to the long corridor. "Note to self; time's all buggered down there."
"What's in the box?" Nayda asked.
John turned back to it and began to lift the lid. "Something that locates concentrations of evil."
"Like demons?" Zed asked.
"That's the plan. Hopefully there aren't too many things around here that could have evil more concentrated than a demon," he mused. "Although there's a Coca Cola plant in this city somewhere."
Zed pushed at his elbow. "Just get going," she smiled.
Nayda picked up a book, lifting it on top of another to make more room. She found scraps of paper on the wooden surface and began to gather them up. She paused, reading at the pencil scrawls. "What's this?" she asked.
Chas towered over her shoulder to see. "Oh. Just my notes," he said. "About Moors Incorporated. Not really helpful any more."
She turned to put them down, but then smiled somewhat sadly. "And in all of this sadness and upset, there's one beautiful thing."
"What's that?" Zed asked, intrigued.
Nayda tapped at the paper with her finger. "This name, here. Such a majestic creature."
John was busy appraising the box and its innards. "Clear off, all of you," he said. "I'm about to open this and charge it up." He looked at Chas. "I'll need the rest of that pig's blood from the cellar."
"This place has a cellar? Wait - you keep pig's blood down there?" Zed asked.
"Well I'm not putting it in the fridge," John scoffed. "I know I'm partial to black pudding but that's ridiculous."
Zed blinked, then put both hands to the table. She almost pitched forward but her hands kept her balanced. "Oooh. Dizzy."
"You alright?" John asked. He shut the box lid firmly. "Zed?"
"I'm ok," she managed. She put a hand to her head. "Just… really dizzy." She looked up. "Smells like… horses. More horses. Can you smell that?"
"That's a coincidence," Nayda said, confused.
"No such thing with her, love," John warned. "Why do you say that?"
"This name, here," she said, lifting a piece of note paper.
"What name?" John asked. He reached out and took the paper from her fingers. "I don't see anything to do with horses here."
Nayda frowned. "Right there," she said, coming up behind the paper and clamping her finger around the edge to point to it right in front of his face. "Cremello. It's a horse that's off-white. Genetics mixing with another colour, I think."
"Cremello?" John echoed. "Where have I heard that name before?"
"Heather Cremello!" Chas said. "Heather Cremello works in HR! —Wait, Elena said the ouija board came from someone who worked in HR!"
John looked up slowly. He grabbed Nayda's face in both hands and kissed her firmly right by the mouth. "You are a bloody genius!" he cried with glee.
"Thanks," she said, bewildered.
He whipped around to the box and snatched it up, tucking it under his arm and heading back for the door to the corridor.
"Where are you going?" Chas called.
"Wait for me - just got to put this back to stop the skull talking and then we can get tooled up to find this Heather bird!" John called over his shoulder.
"Did he say a skull was talking?" Zed asked.
Chas put his hands up in surrender. "I don't even ask any more."
.
ooOoo
.
Chas traced the sigil very carefully through the thin paper, making sure he had it all perfectly inked before lifting the top page to check underneath. "Looks… done," he said, standing back.
Zed came over and leant down to see. "Looks pretty good to me. What's it for again?"
"Protection - it should stop a demon from possessing you without asking. At least, that's what John says."
"Where is John, anyway? I thought he'd be in a hurry to find Heather Cremello."
Chas twisted to look up at the top landing. "He said he was putting some kind of powder together - said it would help protect him from this demon in case it tries anything."
Zed folded her arms. "We're not letting him go alone, are we?"
"Well…" Chas sighed. "Much as I want to be there and stop anything happening to him… I'm out of my depth, Zed. All I know is, this sign will stop it from even trying to possess him. He's got other stuff too - wards and other things I'm sure he thinks are too complicated to explain."
She shook her head slowly. "It's not right. We shouldn't let him do this. Not so soon after Mexico."
"Well hey, he said he didn't remember all that, so—"
"I think he does," she said quietly.
"What?"
"He said something, that's all. I'm just not sure… I don't know," she said. She looked up at him. "I don't want him to go alone."
"Then we'll go with him."
"And Nayda?" she dared. "You know she and John kinda—"
"Oh, I was there for that awkward conversation," he scoffed. "I think we should just leave him to work it out himself."
She smiled as she turned away to glance at the iron staircase. "Well maybe we should go get him - see if he needs any help with this protection stuff."
"I'll go," he said. He put down the black Sharpie and went to the iron stairs. He looked back, but Zed was leaning over to study the sigil he had created. He reached the top and went along the landing until he heard voices. He looked at the half open door to his right.
"Should do the trick, love."
"Just make sure it's properly blended, or it won't be as effective."
"Cheers for your help. I mean it."
There was a pause and Chas went for the partially open door. He pushed it open and strode in. His mouth opened and he looked up. "John, we need—"
Nayda had her hands to John's face, well and truly invested in the kiss that had him unable to do anything but give as good as he got. She jumped and pulled herself back.
John glanced up over her shoulder and caught sight of Chas. He sniffed and then his eyes went to his own shoes as he scratched a hand through his hair. "Perfect timing, mate. We need to get this gear into the car."
Chas made his eyes go to the table and the jars and bags of powder upon it. "Uh - yeah - right," he said. "Yeah. Ready when you are."
Nayda put a hand to a jar on the table, picking it up to inspect the dust inhabiting it. "Well this is ready."
John picked up a glass jar, larger than Nayda's, and dipped it into the large stone bowl still lounging on the table. When it came out again it was half full of powder. He put his hand out and Nayda passed him the dust. "Just got to mix these two and give this bad boy," he said, waggling the larger jar, "a bit of a scratching up with a few sealing sigils. It can charge itself up whilst we're on the way."
"Ok," Chas said cluelessly.
Nayda smiled at him. "I'll help you get everything into your truck."
"Take the taxi," John said. "We won't all fit in the truck."
"And why are we all going again?" Chas asked.
"Because every time I turn me back, you lot are doing something you shouldn't."
"Which you never do," Chas said darkly.
John glared at him but Chas waved a hand out toward the door. Nayda picked up a small bag, pulled the strap onto her shoulder, and walked out.
John was already opening a box on the table, pulling out a bizarre metal glove covered in dainty chains. The hood of the index finger had a tiny wicked blade sticking out of it. He noticed Chas watching him. "What?" he asked innocently.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to walk in and… you know," he said quietly.
John shrugged, then began to sort the chains into some kind of order. "Don't worry about it. You've walked in on me doin' worse."
"Well it is ironic, considering the last few times I thought I knew what you were doing until I walked in…" He shook his head.
"What? When?" John asked, lost.
"Forget about it." Chas watched him slide parts of the links of glove over his fingers. "So… do you want us all together to keep an eye on us, or so you… so you're not tempted to do something you know we'll try to talk you out of?"
"Go," John said.
Chas turned and went for the door.
.
ooOoo
.
Chas pulled the taxi to a stop. He peered across the road at the house. "Looks quiet enough," he muttered.
"Of course it does," John said from the back seat. He bent over to rummage around in the large bag between his feet, hauling out small items and pushing them into his trenchcoat pockets. "You lot stay here - together. I need to get a word in before she twigs I'm here about a demon, and if the four of us appear on her doorstep she's going to know something's rotten in Denmark."
Zed put her hand out and grabbed his elbow. "I should come with you."
"What's the matter, Zed?" he asked with a wry smile. "Worried I've got the only keys to the mill house?"
Zed watched him go back to filling his pockets. She bit her lip, then looked up and caught Chas' eye in the rear view mirror. "It's always better with a woman."
"Well that's open to debate, now isn't it?" John grinned.
Zed tilted her head. "I meant when you question her - women are less threatening. I should come with you, soften the surprise."
"What a load of bollocks," John scoffed. "If anyone really knew anything about women - real ones - they'd argue they're twice as devious, twice as patient and four times as downright bloody evil as any bloke tries to be."
She grinned brightly, holding her hands up in a clear 'ta-da!' tableau.
He huffed and rolled his eyes. "Alright then, come on." He heard Nayda stir from the front seat. "Just Zed," he said hastily. "She's as much trouble as I need right now."
Zed shoved at his arm and then turned to get out of the cab.
John hauled himself out of the passenger door and closed it softly behind him. He stood on the pavement, looking across the street at the welcoming two-storey house.
Zed looked over the car roof at him. "Well? How do we do this?"
He went around the car and crossed the silent road. "You ring her doorbell, keep her occupied. I'll go up… that tree," he said, lifting a hand from his pocket to point to the tall green gift by an upstairs window, "and see what I can find."
"You want me to just keep her occupied?"
"One thing at a time, Zed," he said. They came to a stop by the base of the wide trunk. John looked up at it speculatively.
"You said…" Zed began quietly. "Well you told me that you had all your protections and charms back in place."
"That's right."
"And you asked Chas to make that sigil - and I saw you mark it on the inside of your coat."
"That's right."
"So… why do you need the extra powder?"
John didn't look at her. His hands slipped into his trouser pockets as he continued to appraise the branches on the tree. "You ever been somewhere you didn't want to go back to?"
"Oh yeah," she nodded with conviction.
"What would you do to make sure you weren't dragged back there?"
"I'd… push a woman into a void room and beat the other guy over the head and steal his truck," she said matter-of-factly.
John looked at her. He began to smile. "You and Chas…" He looked at his feet. "I'd give you my last cigarette."
"Wow. I feel honoured," she grinned. "If that's the highest validation I can get from the great magician John Constantine, then I'll take it."
"That's the thing," he said, taking his hands from his pockets and going for the tree, "you don't need anyone's validation, love. You never did." He began to climb.
Zed watched him make two branches before realisation caused her smile to lose purchase. "Wait," she blurted, trying to keep her voice down, "you're going to be ok, right?"
"Get her to the front door and distract her!" he hissed.
She swallowed. She backed up and went around the front of the house.
.
ooOoo
.
The window inched up, accompanied by grunting noises. At last it was open a whole foot, and then two hands gripped the sill. More grunting went on, joined by scrabbling and cursing. At last, John made it through the window and fell gracelessly to the carpet inside.
"Bastard," he hissed, rolling to his back to get his bearings. He looked around at the room - some kind of study. He got to his hands and knees and then used the window sill to make it to his feet, all the while looking around at the dark room. The light from the moon and the streetlamps were casting odd shadows around the desk, the chair, the maps and papers pinned to the corkboards on the walls. He pulled his lighter from his trouser pocket and snapped it open, flicking the flame into obedience. It brought him images of diagrams and words, written in a curiously neat hand on the notes pinned to the boards. His nose went closer to a piece of paper and he read slowly. Shaking his head, he went to the next one, and the next.
The steady hum of women's voices somewhere downstairs interrupted his concentration; he moved to the next board, found it as useless as the first, and then turned his attention to the desk. He rifled through, checked the drawers, went to the calendar, and then checked a few scrumpled up sheets in the waste paper basket.
He snapped the lighter shut in disgust, closing his eyes and shoving it back in his pocket. He turned around slowly, his hands out as if for balance, his head tilted in thought. His boots took him backwards until he was against the wall. He sniffed. The room watched him tread slowly across the carpet, sniffing all the while.
Suddenly he stopped dead. He sniffed again, and again, edging to his right. He kept going until his leg banged into the desk. He opened his eyes, now much more accustomed to the dark, and crouched to inspect the desk drawers. Shaking his head, he opened the bottom one, then lay on the carpet, turned to his back, and shoved his head under the wooden furniture. He grinned and then chuckled to himself, his fingers pulling at something on the underside of the bottom drawers. He ripped it free and slid out from the desk, sitting up to turn the thin notebook over in his hands.
"Bugger me," he breathed, finding the front cover and opening it up. "Where the hell did you get this, love?" He sniffed the pages suspiciously. "Sulphur. And…" He sniffed again. He frowned in thought before he simply stuck his tongue out and licked at a page. He sniffed the damp paper quickly. "Where have I smelt that before?" he mused. He let the notebook fall to his knee. His hand scratched at the back of his head as he turned the smell over and over in his head.
A light suddenly appeared under the door to the corridor. He got up and shoved the book inside his trenchcoat. He went to the door and opened it wide enough for a single eye to spy on the upstairs landing.
Voices and familiar thump-on-carpet noises greeted him. He waited, and then a figure walked past his door. He froze - until he pulled it open further and stuck his head out. "Oi, Zed," he hissed.
She stopped dead and turned. "Are you done yet? She thinks I'm using the bathroom."
"I know how she got the demon here," he nodded. He came out from the door, producing the book. "I just don't know why. She's got no connection to Roberta - why kill her?"
"Why don't we get downstairs and ask her."
"Whoa there - just hakkuna your tatas for a moment," John said hastily. "She's got this thing on a leash. If she calls it back to her when we're asking her what's gone on, we'll both be targeted."
"Then give me some of your protection powder and let's do this," Zed said firmly.
He stowed the book again and put his hand in the other inside coat pocket. "It's actually scary."
"What is?" she asked.
He pulled out the marked jar of powder, unscrewing the lid and delving into the fine grains within. "How much you trust me."
"I don't trust you, I trust the powder to work," she teased with a smile.
He smiled but then it disappeared. "Stand still," he instructed. She kept her arms straight and waited. He flicked the powder over her hair, muttering something she didn't even attempt to figure out. Some went on her jacket, more in her hair. She watched as he did the same to his own hair and trenchcoat. He screwed the lid back on and thrust it back into his pocket. "Right. Ready?"
"As I'll ever be. What's the plan?"
"We get down there and ask her to 'fess up. We cut the leash she's got on this demon. We can cast it back to Hell if it's without a master."
"When do we do that bit?"
"When we're safely out of here and in a secure place we can summon it." He paused. "I need you to keep her off-balance. This won't work if she knows what we're trying to do."
"I can do that," she nodded firmly.
"Then let's go." He turned toward the stairs. He hesitated.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Where's the bathroom, love?"
She let her shoulders sag. "And I was hoping for some words of wisdom, or hope, before we do this."
"Are you kidding? Best thing to do before an exorcism is get it all out of your system. Stops you pissing yourself in fear in front of a demon."
"Just go," she ordered, her arm out and pointing in the direction of the bathroom.
.