CHAPTER 4
When next I woke birds were chirping outside my window and a soft, comforting shaft of sunlight was gently warming my cheeks.
I lay for a long moment, gazing sleepily up at the ceiling and feeling a rather unusual tingling throughout my body. Had something happened the night before? It seemed it had, but what it was escaped me.
I raised myself up on my elbows and noticed the room appeared rather larger than I recalled. My cupboard was missing, and where it had sat was instead an enormous, wagon wheel sized indent in the brick surface of the wall.
The events came back to me in a rush and every hair on my head was suddenly eager to reach up and shake hands with ceiling.
The demon had been in my room. That was not a dream.
I attempted to jump from the bed and found my body a bit less enthusiastic than hoped for. Fatigue still clung to every limb like an iron weight; I was exhausted.
With a gathering of effort I tottered over to my door and heard a muttering of voices from somewhere below, likely Clinton and my mother trying to explain to insurance the sudden increase in exploding cupboards.
Being in no mood to face them, I decided my best option was to consult Selena. A glance at my watch revealed that the appointment was in two hours and I reached for the phone, but hesitated. My voice would draw attention.
Making a snap decision, I did my best to sneak down the stairs, carefully avoiding those guilty of squeaking (numbers four and six), and grabbed my car keys from the entrance hall table.
The drive to the Defence Training Offices was the single most treacherous journey of my life. My arms felt as if I’d been lifting weights for an hour, slow to respond and partially numb. Three times I was forced to slam on brakes, in one case drawing a barrage of angry hooting from a driver behind me. I ignored it all; everything seemed distant and unreal. My only thought was to reach out to someone, anyone, for a bit of reassurance and explanation.
I arrived outside the majestic security gate an hour early, detachedly aware that my hair was uncombed and I was wearing day old clothes.
Without prompting, the gate opened and I proceeded to my previous parking space, noting the presence of Selena’s assistant on the top step. She waited as I climbed out the car and shuffled towards her.
“Mister Clarence, Selena is expecting you.”
“I’m an hour early.” I said, shocked at the sound of my own croaking voice.
“This way please.”
The assistant turned and headed through the front doors, slowing her pace so I could keep up. I stumbled and nearly went for a face plant on the marble floor, but the girl stopped and offered a supporting shoulder. Together we passed through the waiting area and entered the massive hall. Selena sat waiting in the leather chair, looking expectant and prepared for my hour early arrival.
“Mister Clarence,” she said, and I still managed to find her thick accent appealing, even in my disorientated state.
“Hi.” My response was so feeble it barely registered an echo off the lofty ceiling.
I allowed the assistant to guide me to the low couch and collapsed onto its welcoming surface. Every muscle in my body let out a sigh of relief.
The assistant’s footsteps faded and I heard the doors close, but Selena let a moment draw out, allowing me time to rest.
“How did you know I was going to be early?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“Logical Prediction; it is an advanced magic. Do not concern yourself with it at this time.”
“Okay.”
“Breathe deeply,” she said, “Your Spirit will return quicker with deep breaths.”
I did as I was told and after about a minute could feel the energy gradually returning to my limbs. “Isn’t there a quicker way?”
“Yes, but it is more advanced magic. You will learn this later.”
“The demon…”
“It crossed over into the physical plane.” Her voice was level, matter-of-fact and soothing in its honesty. “You gave it life, supplied it with energy and finally it has taken on a physical form.”
“I felt a buzzing sensation in my head.”
“Your Spirit, now awoken, will speak to you in the only ways it can. Listen well, it will never say things you do not need to hear.”
“Is it still here?” I asked, suddenly aware I may have left my mother alone with a creeping, blue faced demon.
“No. It will slip in and out of the physical world, more and more as its own Spirit increases, unless you learn to control it.”
“You couldn’t have warned me? You couldn’t have helped me prepare for that? What the hell am I paying you for?”
“I apologise, Mister Clarence, but I did not realise how powerful your demon had already become.” Her answer sounded genuine.
“I shot some kind of energy out of my body. Nearly destroyed half the house.”
“Your raw Spirit, Mister Clarence, now acknowledged has become pliable. You must learn to harness it, or you will be a danger to those around you.”
“Well, let’s get busy,” I said firmly, desperate to have some kind of process started that would bring order to the madness.
“Do you have an answer for me?”
“An answer?” It had completely slipped my mind.
“What makes you angriest, Mister Clarence?”
I covered my face with a hand and thought about it. The answer was obvious. “Clinton. My mother’s boyfriend.”
“Good. And why is this?”
“He’s a drunken lay-about and waste of space.” Frustration was starting to mount. How did this have anything to do with blue faced horrors and exploding cupboards? “Is this helping me?”
“Focus, Mister Clarence!” Her voice raised a notch and I jumped. “Why does he make you angry?”
“I told you; he’s a drunk.”
“And why does this anger you?”
“My mother pays for all his booze. He doesn’t do anything constructive. He’s not even trying.” But that wasn’t true. “Well, he goes for job interviews. But it’s a waste of time. Who would hire a drunk?”
“So he is trying. What really makes you so angry?”
Again I paused to think, taking note that my body was starting to feel energized. A tingling sensation that seemed to vibrate under my skin was growing ever stronger. “I need more of a reason to be angry at him than being a drunk?”
“Think, Mister Clarence.”
Bizarrely I realised I had never really given the question serious thought. He did try. He was making an effort. The drinking wasn’t even that excessive. Why did I have such a burning dislike for him?
“I’m… not really sure,” I admitted softly.
“Say it.”
“He’s not my father.” It was a revelation.
Silence from Selena indicated that my answer was correct. “What happened to your father, Mister Clarence?”
“He died.”
“How?”
“Heart attack.”
“Go on.”
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Were you present?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
I let my mind focus on the day in question, for the second time in as many days. “He was on the floor.”
“Yes?”
“He was on the floor and I was watching him. My mother was screaming…” As the images returned to me, the hall seemed to be growing darker, as if the focusing of my mind was somehow draining the ambient light.
“What did you do when your mother screamed, Mister Clarence? Think.”
“She was screaming. I didn’t know what to do…” I strained my mind, trying to recall, but the memories were vague and unfamiliar, as though the events had occurred in a dream.
Around me the walls seemed to be contracting now, bowing in as if under some enormous exterior pressure. “She was screaming and I was looking down at my father. He was…dying…”
My eyes squinted up at the ceiling.
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“He was dying…” I repeated.
I noticed that the magnificent gold chandelier dangling overhead seemed to unintentionally make the shape of a person. I could make out an arm, half the face and a section of the torso.
The demon was hovering above me, elevated perhaps ten or fifteen meters from the ground and remaining magically airborne. Its posture mirrored my own; one hand resting palm down on its forehead, while legs were outstretched as if reclining on a couch. Even at that distance the red eyes were bright and prominent, gazing down at me with silent longing.
“Selena…” The single word escaped my mouth, not yet reflecting the panic I would soon be experiencing.
For a moment the world was frozen, hanging awkwardly in a kind of photographic limbo as my mind processed the new information. Then gravity kicked in, realising a physical object was defying its laws, and the demon came hurtling down towards me.
I raised both hands in a terrified attempt to defend myself, but before the creature had even completed its descent Selena was on her feet. With a cry that lay somewhere between a roar of disapproval and an exclamation of surprise, she swung an arm forward in a broad, sweeping arch, hand flat, as if delivering a reverse, roundhouse karate chop. A crackling of static accompanied her movement, clinging to her arm.
With a blinding SNAP the demon rocketed off across the hall, its body twisting and writhing as it was transformed into living projectile. A second later a thundering delayed shockwave jingled the chandelier and rattled the windows.
Then, after a quick beat, the demon collided with a wall on the far side of the hall. The occasion was marked by a thundering boom, and as testimony to the creature’s point of contact, a massive impact crater formed in the wall’s stone surface. After a second the crater sprouted a ring of spider web cracks and coughed a shower of debris.
The entire incident had taken no more than three seconds.
I started to rise up onto my elbows, sighing in relief, but Selena’s voice halted me.
“Stay down, Mister Clarence. It’s not over yet.”
A glance to my left revealed the broken heap of the demon below the impact crater. Without so much as a grunt it scrambled back to its feet, apparently not fazed by recently shooting thirty meters across a room and being used as a battering ram against solid stone.
“It’s coming back,” Selena muttered, raising a hand and extending index and middle finger, a child’s imitation of a gun.
As the demon came scampering back towards us the static once again popped into life around Selena’s extended arm. A burst of energy sprang forward, creating a crackle of blue sparks on her fingertips and sending her dark hair billowing. But the demon had learned a thing or two about taking bolts of energy to the face; it skipped a step to the side and the fizzing energy missed, exploding instead a section of marble floor. Selena released a second bolt and the demon repeated the motion, skipping a sideways step as it continued its advance. The marble floor took another beating and chunks of debris the size of golf balls were sent bouncing across the floor.
By now the demon had closed the gap and prepared to mount its attack, bending its legs in mid-stride and drawing its body down into a crouch. The motion gave rise to an incredible leap that took it soaring forward, clear over the couch and on a trajectory with Selena.
I caught the briefest glimpse of a grimace on her face, and then she released her third bolt, managing to catch the creature airborne for the second time in a single battle.
Bolt and demon made contact directly over my couch. A POP deafened my ears and a shockwave rocked my body in a tremor. Then a gentle sprinkle of what appeared to be tiny, drifting dust particles were raining down onto my face.
For a moment I lay in paralysed shock, my gaping eyes fixed on the empty air where the demon had disintegrated.
“Are you alright, Mister Clarence?” Selena asked; her voice neutral.
I turned my head to look at her as she casually tucked a loose lock of raven hair behind an ear. “An energetic little creature, your demon.”
I nodded weakly, the thumping of my heart so fierce I feared she may overhear it and scold me.
“We have found your Achilles Heel,” she continued, “We now need only find the reasons for your demon’s birth.”