EIGHT
.
Irrucaynya stood tall. Its wings flipped neatly behind it as it took a step forward.
Zed slapped harder at John's face. "Come on!" she growled.
"Arrgh - pack it in!" he grumped.
She shook at his shoulder and his eyes levered themselves open as if in need of a car jack. "John - cast the demon back to Hell or whatever it is you call it!"
"Demon…" He muttered. His eyes fixed on the shape advancing on them. "Shit! Demon!"
She helped him to sit up. He all but fell into her and pushed his hand round her side as if feeling for clothing labels. "Hey!" she protested.
"Pardon me, love. I just need… this." He pulled out a jar and shook it vigorously.
Nayda noticed it and her eyes went wide. "No," she breathed. "Don't you dare."
"Never been known to pass that phrase up," he sneered. He unscrewed the jar. "Oi! Irrucaynya!" He hurled the jar directly at the wall by Nayda's head. The glass shattered but it hardly mattered; fine powder was already coating Nayda's hair and her top.
"No!" she screamed.
"You brought him here, you deal with him!" he shouted.
Zed helped him up, nearly having heart failure as he slipped in something dark and wet under his boot. She held him upright.
He threw his left arm round her shoulder and leant on her, but he was staring at the demon who had suddenly caught a whiff of concentrated jorlanntay root. "Looks like he's going for the catnip," he breathed. He wiped at an annoying trickle down his face. When his flapping shirt cuff came away red, it was only Zed who noticed.
A gasp and a choking cough broke his concentration. His attention went down and he gasped. "Chas!" He attempted to reach down for the knife in Chas' back, but it was clear he had neither the strength nor the pain-free flexibility. Zed pushed him back and yanked it free herself. She held it firmly in her palm as she looked up at Irrucaynya.
It was looking from her to Nayda and back again. It took one step toward Zed.
John's knee buckled and he began to slip. She shuffled him back into her to keep him upright. Her left hand brandished the blade. The demon took another step. "Try it," Zed barked.
Irrucaynya's head turned painfully slowly toward Nayda. She was trying to shake powder from her hair, to knock it from her top. She paused and looked up. Irrucaynya began to close on her.
"No, wait," she said quickly. "I command you! Do as I say! Kill them!"
Irrucaynya didn't so much as hesitate. It stopped and an upper limb shot out and clamped round her throat.
Chas groaned and rolled onto his side. Zed felt John slipping down her right side and hefted him back up. "Come on, you two," she grunted with effort.
Chas was on his hands and knees. "Trying," he coughed. "That… really… hurt."
"Not as much as that will," John muttered.
Chas pushed himself to his feet. He realised John and Zed were staring, unable to look away, at the demon and its hold now on Nayda's head.
"What did I miss?" Chas asked. He frowned at John. "Help her!"
Zed looked at John, then Nayda. "Chas is right. Send it back, John. Help her."
"Why should I?" he said amiably.
"Now!" Chas warned him.
John turned a weary, sickly smile on him. One eye tried to close in pain or fatigue or both. The other winced against the blood trying to seep round his eyebrow and get into his field of vision. His gaze went back to Nayda, his lip curling in resentful discomfort.
"John please," Zed said urgently.
Nayda screamed as Irrucaynya began to squeeze her skull. John tilted his head, his glassy eyes going to the floor.
"Why aren't you helping her?" Zed shouted.
"Because she killed two people and she brought that thing up here to do it," he shot back angrily. "I'd say she's earned herself a little Hell-time, wouldn't you?"
Zed shuffled him up against her side. "This is wrong," she snapped at him. "It's wrong and you know it."
John rolled his head round to look at her. She fumed at him. He raised his eyebrows.
"Please," she urged.
"Come on, John," Chas said quietly.
John gave a monumental huff. He let his head dangle back on his neck for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and looked up. "Irrucaynya, I address you," he called recklessly, as if he cared neither way. He coughed, then dragged in more air. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio, infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te. Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare."
Nyada was dropped. She hit the boards and lay still.
Irrucaynya was anything but. It writhed and lashed its wings, trumpeting its fury. John sniffed a runny nose and forced his head to stay up. He began to recite the words again, over and over, and while his voice was quiet, it certainly pervaded everything Irrucaynya did.
The creature began to sink. The limbs gave out beneath it. It crashed into the floor as its wings wrapped up around it. John called the last few lines at it. Black steam rose from the struggling wings. The mass appeared to boil and smoke, until it began to curl tighter.
They watched, at a loss to do much else, as it vibrated and shrieked.
Abruptly it went silent.
Nobody moved.
Time ticked on, people got their breath back.
John slipped.
Zed dropped the knife and moved to catch him, her hand round his waist digging in. He grunted something in pain, causing Chas to grip his shoulder and haul him upright.
"Ow!" he protested. "Ow ow ow ow ow!"
"Don't be such a baby," Chas tutted.
Zed couldn't help but smile - until her eyes tripped over Nayda. She looked up at Chas. "You got him?"
"I've got him," he nodded.
Zed inched out from under John's left arm and went across the room. She gave the lump of fizzing demon carcass a wide berth to get to Nayda. Crouching down, she put a hand to her neck and waited. She breathed in with shock, getting up and backing away. "She's dead," she whispered. She looked across at Chas.
He shook his head sadly. "We call the police. Heather is going to have a lot of explaining to do."
"Bring the cab round, Chas," John muttered. "We have to keep Heather out of the hands of the police."
"Can you stand?" he asked critically.
"Oh piss off. I've had worse off me dad."
Chas glanced at Zed, caught her eye. She frowned in confusion but everything about Chas' demeanour suggested he was more than willing to back right away from John's words. He cleared his throat. "Well you… stay here. Zed? Watch him. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."
"If only anyone could," she said with a rueful smile.
Chas lifted John away from him. Whilst he put a hand out against the wall to steady himself, Chas went out of the front door.
John inched his way down the wall, right up to Nayda's body. He slid down the paint steadily, ending up slumped more or less on his arse, his legs clearly having given up somewhere underneath him. His head leant against the wall as his eyes ran over the dead woman.
Zed crouched by the demon corpse. "I thought all of it went to Hell," she said, her face one of horrified fascination.
John's head rolled listlessly against the paintwork. "Just the soul."
"Demons have souls?"
"It's the bit that refuses to die," he managed.
She looked down at it, putting her hands to a wingtip and squeezing. She jumped and pulled her hand back, staring at her finger and thumb. "The wings are… thin. Like membranes," she said. She studied the black mass in alarmed awe. "It's like they're made of… snot. Like… a kind of… mucus."
John snorted, before something made him smile. He put a hand to his right arm, feeling it squelch into hot, wet skin, turning his face sour.
"Hey, we should go before—." Zed looked over at him, but the look on his face made her stop short. She got to her feet slowly, pulling his coat more tightly around herself. She went around Nayda and knelt down next to John. "You ok?" she asked hopefully.
John opened his mouth before he let it lapse into a cynical, unkind smile. He blinked a little blearily, his eyes pinched as if they smarted. He let his head fall to Zed's shoulder. She sighed before she lifted her arm and the coat propped round her, folding them both around his left shoulder, feeling his wayward hair tickle at the side of her chin.
"I'm sorry about Nayda," she said quietly.
"She had it coming."
Zed swallowed her reply. She closed her eyes to the dead bodies in front of them. "We should go."
"I want my coat back."
"Then let's go."
"I can't get up."
She squeezed his shoulder. They waited for Chas to return.
.
ooOoo
.
Heather clasped her hands together, pacing to and fro. Chas waited, his arms folded, as Zed spoke at length on a large, antique telephone. One hand on the base that housed a large wheel of numbers, the rest of her was leaning against the bookshelf, the large receiver shoved into her hair as she ordered and explained.
"Yes. Of course I will - she wasn't even there," Zed said. "She was at the market with me. Yes."
Heather shook her head, putting her hands to her elbows and striding around in circles. "This is madness," she said to herself. "Roberta, Elena, Nayda… they're all dead."
"Hey," Chas said quickly. "You're ok. We'll make sure the police don't bother you."
"That's not what I meant - people are dead. Isn't this all my fault?"
"No," Chas said. He put a hand to her arm to make her stop. She turned to face him. "You've done nothing wrong. It was Nayda, and only her."
"But I got the ouija board and—"
"Heather… You may have brought that game board into this, but that's all it was - a game board. It's not real. It didn't do anything. Nayda was the one who brought that demon here, and she's the one who paid for it." He paused. "Besides, she was… unstable. Who goes around killing off friends of their ex?"
"Right," she muttered. "I get it. I think."
They heard contact on the iron stairs and turned to look up. John shuffled down them steadily, all his weight on his left hand on the railing.
"You ok, John?" Chas asked. He eyed the way the smaller man paused for a few seconds at the bottom, as if to brace him for the long walk to the wooden table.
"Right as rain," he said with a wide, joyless smile. Chas took in John's slippers - the worn out grey ones, barely enough to keep his feet from the boards. His long dark blue dressing gown was open, as if even it couldn't get up the enthusiasm to be upset that it wasn't tied. If it was exhausted, so too were his white v-necked t-shirt and the dark blue cotton boxers poking out beneath. The entire picture spoke volumes on how much healing he needed, illustrated ably by the way he sloped past the table completely and went into the open kitchen area. His hand went to the surface and he bent over with what appeared to be a lot of effort to fetch a clear bottle from under the sink area.
Chas patted at Heather's arm before crossing to the kitchen and taking the bottle from John's hand. He read the label and then frowned. "Gin? Seriously?"
"You've started hiding the whisky," John grumped. He took the bottle back and carried it to the wooden table. He plonked himself down and relaxed as much as he could, his spine collapsing as if made of marshmallows.
Zed put down the phone. "So… the police are satisfied that there was a break-in," she said. She crossed to the table, taking the bottle from John's hand. His open grip closed on thin air, confused. She unscrewed the lid and took a swig herself before pushing his hand back open and depositing the bottle back in it. He blinked but wasted no time introducing a generous measure to his system. She cleared her throat of the sharp alcohol. "Oh that's nasty," she rasped. "They're on the look-out for someone who let an animal escape - they're thinking bear. At least that's what they've decided to call the dead 'animal' on the floor in the house. Apparently it killed a women who had popped in to call on a friend. Lucky you weren't in at the time," she said meaningfully to Heather.
Heather ran her hands through her hair. "I can't go back there - not to live," she groaned. "I'm moving. To Canada. Or… Australia."
"Say hi to the bunyip for me," John said. He took another big gulp of gin.
Zed studied him, then looked at Heather. "Do you need a ride somewhere?"
"I'm calling a cab," she said smartly. "Thank you - all of you. I don't know what happened, and judging by the state of John - who really should be at a hospital - I don't ever want to know what happened."
"Good girl," John nodded, his eyes on the table. "Let Chas take you." He let the bottle down to the table as if it were too heavy.
"I think he should stay here," she said quietly. She looked up at the man in question. "Thank you. Look after these two - and you. You three… You saved my life."
"You're welcome," he smiled. She nodded and he went with her to the staircase, going up and along the top landing, to the wooden steps to the front door.
Zed looked at John to find him reaching for the packet of Silk Cut on the table. Her hand landed on top of his and the packet, trapping them both to the surface. "Really?" she warned.
"Leave off," he sighed. "Today's been hard enough."
She let him go and he opened up the packet, taking out a cigarette and lighting it slowly. He dropped the box and his Zippo to the table. "She's right - you should go to a hospital," she said.
"It's just scratches."
"Scratches that Chas had to stitch up for you."
"Lucky it didn't ruin me tatt," he said. "Got that from a lesser demon in a poker game."
She smiled, shaking her head. "I'm guessing everything else hurts."
"Only when I move," he nodded with a broad smile. "Or don't move."
"Don't do that," she said, sitting on the chair next to his.
"What?"
"Don't do that smile. It's only your mouth, not your eyes, and it says 'everyone and everything can just bugger off; I'm done'," she said. He grinned around the cigarette stuck in his mouth. "I still say you should have gone to the hospital," she added. She put her hand up to the white patch over his temple.
He twitched it beyond her reach. "Horses," he stated.
"What?"
"Horses," he said, turning his head to look at her. "Why horses if it wasn't Heather?"
"Maybe it wanted to show me the next victim, so we could help her."
"'It' wanted?"
"Well who knows why I see the things I see," she shrugged. "But today it helped."
"Yeah, love. It did." He took the Silk Cut from his lips and letting out a long stream of smoke from his nose. "By the way…" His voice trailed off. He hesitated, then pushed the cigarette back in his mouth.
"What?" she asked.
"Nah, forget it."
"Come on, what?" she asked, nudging his shoulder. He winced and she leant back, her smile falling into a guilty frown. "Sorry."
"I'll be right. Just need a few days indoors."
She frowned, putting her hands on the table and clasping her fingers. "Come on, what do you want to say?"
He took the cigarette from his mouth. "You were fearless, love. Amazing."
"Thank you," she said, puzzled. "So why do you look troubled?"
"That's going to get you killed one day."
"Well… not being it today might have got you killed. And Chas. —Again."
He shook his head. "Just… take it easy, yeah?"
"Ngaw - you don't want me to get hurt?" she teased.
His head tilted and he looked at the table top speculatively, a hint of a smile to his face. "I'd miss the constant nagging."
She nudged his shoulder with hers and grinned.
Chas came down the steps again. "Well, Heather's gone. Looks like we're all done here." He paused in front of the table. "You know… you should sleep, John."
"Oh here we go," John sighed. He scrubbed his free hand through his hair, letting his head dangle toward the table.
Zed looked up at Chas and shook her head. Her eyes darted to the kitchen and back deliberately.
"And you need to eat," Chas said.
"Look, I appreciate that you two think I have the mental age of a ten year old, but I can feed myself when I need to," he grumped, his head still dangling. "Give over, the pair of you. It's starting to wear a bit thin."
"You're saying you're not hungry? At all?" Chas pressed.
John lifted his head and took another drag on the cigarette. "Not in the least. Maybe it's painkillers."
"Well I'm hungry," Zed said, pinning a look on Chas.
"Then fill your boots, you two," John said listlessly.
Chas and Zed exchanged a glance. "Ok then," Chas breezed. "I got that slab of beef out of the freezer last night. It should be ready to roast right about now." He looked at Zed meaningfully.
"Is that what those small potatoes are waiting for by the kitchen counter?" she asked as innocently as possible.
John's head turned and he looked at Chas as if heaven's light itself were radiating out of his friend. "Ohhh Chas - tell me you're thinking of doin' a roast with them little spuds and the grilled tomatoes and them green bean things?"
"No," he warned. "That would take too long. I have things to do."
John grinned. "Bollocks - get to it. You know where the kitchen is."
Chas scowled at him, but as he turned away to the preparation area he caught Zed's eye and winked with a smile.
She turned to look back at John. "Are you just going to sit here, drinking and smoking?" she asked.
"Pretty much," he nodded. "I don't want to get up. Everything hurts."
"Why don't you just magic yourself better?"
"It doesn't work like that," he sighed. "I could, but… I wouldn't want to live with the cost."
She got to her feet. "Well I'm going to help Chas."
"Let him do the beef, love. He's got some secret recipe or something that makes it taste fantastic." He put his elbow on the table and leant his hand down, tapping the end of his cigarette to make tiny flakes fall into the ashtray beneath.
"And then when we've eaten, you're going to sleep, right?"
"If it'd stop you mithering," he sighed. She raised her eyebrows and he turned his head to look at her. His face was a picture of apologetic self-pity, making her sigh.
"Sit here and rest, tío loco," she said quietly. She leant over and pushed her hand into his hair, ruffling it like that of her favourite ten-year-old, before leaning her head down and pushing a kiss into the top of his head.
"Leave it out," he squirmed, but she was already grinning herself toward the kitchen.
John's semi-scowl watched her go, analysing the moment. He let himself soak up the warm comfort of the room, the sounds of happy people working with a purpose not too far away, the aura of everything being under control and - for the moment - harmless. He sat and listened, until finally he had exhausted his cigarette. He stubbed it out and pushed himself to his feet with an effort.
"Here, let me help," he said, sloping over to the work top next to the two of them. "I'm good at green beans."
"My ass," Chas snorted. "And don't let him touch anything until he's washed his hands - with actual soap."
"I heard that," Zed said, pushing John toward the sink.
The house watched as the three of them elbowed and chuckled, washed and chopped, seasoned and bantered. And as the afternoon eased into a friendly, comfortable evening, it realised the true meaning of contentment.
FIN
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And that's a wrap! Thanks for reading, people. You don't know how amazing it is to get traffic and reviews for this, when you keep getting rejection letters from agents for the books you write. You lot keep me writing.