Dangerous, Diabolical
Chapter 11 - What's mine is not yours

What’s Mine is not yours

Things were a real mess. And I meant in the literal sense. The room was full of decomposing vampire smoke, the stairwell was slippery with blood and I was worried eating the vampire heart had done some kind of permanent damage. The notion of consuming the remains of almost-human Joanne was making my stomach turn.

I nudged her body with my toe, and it slid a few more steps down with a dull thunk. My stomach growled, yet she just didn’t reach the peak levels of looking as appetising as fresh food usually did. Mentally I kicked myself for not seeing her out the door. Now, seeing her far too incapacitated to go to work, it was inevitable that David was going to make me train another newbie again. That was if any of the shoppers came back.

And I was still employed…

A loud groan escaped. That was a lot of what-ifs. Plus, it wasn’t like I needed to go to work anymore. That requirement for my SPCC membership was now on the path to being null and void with the bigger problem potentially looming. Any second now the news of my heritage could break. Was Grahame right? Did Leo suspect I was a creature from the most-wanted kill list?

There was no way he’d know I was responsible for the demise of Grahame either, right?

Despite being sat amongst the blood on the stairwell, something which previously would’ve sounded like a great place to ponder, every thought refused to comply to be arranged into any sort of order and contribute as to what to do next. I dropped my head into my hands, wincing as my fingertips brushed against the damage inflicted from the bat swing earlier.

An empty gaze met mine as I peeked between my fingers. “Stop looking at me like that!” I chastised Grahame. His unmoving corpse didn’t respond, thankfully.

He had tasted like meat far past its expiry date, and seeing him impaled on those metal bars with a giant cavity in his chest was more suspicious than it would have been to just leave him locked up and take the chance he’d turn up as a walking corpse. Would it make it worse if I pushed him back in?

No, no, it didn’t matter. Leo would have to find this place to see him.

Joanne’s empty eyes were even worse than the vampires. At least if the necromancer returned it might be a nice surprise to find that two of the victims were already halfway to needing reanimation, even better if the sorcerer then broke their neck tripping over Joanne on their way down the stairs.

I could then totally blame the whole murdering saga on them, leaving no chance of the accountability shifting in my direction, ultimately escaping any string of culpability.

Everything would be fine.

All I needed to do was to make sure they were indeed revived almost back to life and paraded around a bit. And this was my chance, whoever locked them down here would have to turn up to retrieve them sooner or later.

Returning up the creaking staircase I made my way into the ground floor.

Considering the state of the church, there was a pew to sit on that was almost acceptable. Crunching across the glass I took residence, waiting through the rest of the night, arms crossed, watching for any sign of movement at the door. Several times I had to push some heat into my fingertips as the cold settled in.

As the sun rose, kissing the stained windows and projecting past the shattered frames, I could be found slumped halfway down the chair, arms crossed, chin pressed to the chest and a big fat frown lining my face. Despite going to all of the trouble to lock away Jo and Grahame, the perpetrator hadn’t bothered returning. Perhaps the most disconcerting thing was that after sitting in the damp, cold old building for a lifetime, I couldn’t pick up a single scent trail that was recognisable. I’d stood within arms reach of the necromancer, and I was now sitting in what was potentially the base of operations, and all I could tell you was they had a reasonable decor choice, and far too much invested in cages within a random basement.

My cheek ached, and the old blood dried down my hair. The area, whilst tender at least seemed to have clogged. I’d scrubbed as much of Grahame’s blood off as possible from my arms with the opposite sleeve, but it still dyed the skin a streaky hue.

With an achingly slow complaint from an empty stomach, finally, I conceded that the necromancer was going to be a no-show. It was time to skip town and finally accept that whatever problems this place had, they weren’t mine.

Leofstan would never know.

Before I could stand, weird sorts of crackles began to burst inside the church, the whine popping so deep I could feel it through my ear that an involuntary shake to try and dislodge the incessant creeping of buzzing that slowly began overtaking the frequency. It deepened until it became a warping kind of pitch shift that rebounded into the corners of the building until eventually, it began to echo its undulating waves. It was impossible to put my finger on where the sound was originating from and curiously, the noise felt familiar.

The sound, whilst foreign created a sort of warmth in my stomach, almost comforting which was at odds with the now hideous cacophony that buffeted my ears.

The expanse of the church began to smudge. It was like having water in your eye for a moment; everything was an artist palette style blur of colours that were left at the end of creating a masterpiece, except despite blinking, the anomaly remained steadfast in the centre of the church. The screeching pitch resonated to a crescendo. Before my very eyes two skeletal hands; as if swimming through the air, pushed unhindered out of the distortion.

I didn’t need to see that.

A chill crept up my spine. On the list of things I needed to do today, this wasn’t one of them. This was proof my entire day was a write-off.

Watching bony fingers tear apart the very reality I was staring at, black viscous liquid dribbled out of the portal lazily and splatted onto the tiled floor in an ungraceful puddle, it almost convinced me to use what the church was for and start to pray.

Seriously, if it was something coming to drag me to hell then it would just be the cherry on the cake. A creeping frost chased the glass shards on the floor and misted my breath. I was certain that I didn’t want to know what was going to come out of the portal and yet couldn’t stop watching. It was fascinating that it was putting all that effort into getting the groove wide enough to fit a foot out.

Considering the show it was putting on to get out of the hole I’d really expected more than a pair of unpolished Oxford shoes. The emerging creature looked lost on the way to a business meeting.

The hole finally became wide enough to allow a pair of shoulders to emerge. A black robe draped over the covered head, flowing behind.

It was the hooded attacker from when I’d been accosted at the store! I was certain of it! Sitting up straighter, I leant forward eagerly. This was too perfect. He could reanimate Grahame downstairs and instantly take the blame for his untimely end.

With a soft step, the figure dropped down onto the floor below and as the last of their cloak billowed clear, the rift snapped shut behind immediately.

So cool!

That was one hell of a way to make an entrance. But then it kind of dawned on me that last time the caster had tried their utmost to kill me, and here I was still sitting in the wide open.

Fortunately, their attention was fixed on the back door I’d left wide open down towards the cellar. I dared not breathe. If I was to make any sort of movement there was no doubt in my mind that it would draw attention to myself, so I just saw there. With hurried steps towards the cellar, the figure walked down the aisle, leaving a trail of frost in their wake.

With a hollow hiss, the human continued to pace forward, but his shadow split, hovering like a dark blip that was a remnant of the portal it had just emerged from. As both figures were cloaked, the fluttering material was the last to part; leaving two distinct and recognisable creatures.

A curse escaped my traitorous lips, which my hands weren’t fast enough to catch. Both sets of eyes, the real ones, and the hollow sockets turned towards me at the same time.

None of us moved as we processed the situation. Could I just ask him to raise the dead?

I wouldn’t know if I didn’t ask.

“Hi there.” I beamed.

His familiar face looked as startled as I felt, the dawning of recognition hitting us at the same time; the smile slowly slipping from my face. Bouncing to my feet, I threw an arm pointing outstretched accusatorially, the thumping of my own heart running rampant through my ears.

“You!” I shrieked.

The man was nonplussed to see me. Offering a lazy blink and a sigh, you would’ve thought I’d just caught him mid-nap.

“What are you doing here, Celandine?” David did not look pleased to see me. And for once, it appeared neither did his Dybbuk.

My arm crashed to my side as the pieces slotted together. Part of me always smelt like work. David exclusively smelt like work. The Dybbuk couldn’t have a scent, after all, he was a floating spectre. The perpetrator had been right under my nose the entire time. At work when I was attacked I had smelt David there, I’d just never noticed him as an irregularity.

Ever since I’d been placed in the role by the SPCC, as per the requirements of the terms and conditions of registration, I’d assumed that David and the Dybbuk behind him were just part of the deal. Like myself, maybe they’d just woken up one day and realised they existed. Then, the SPCC told them they needed to contribute to society too.

As I’d never known how to look for magic, it had never occurred to me to care what symbiotic situation might be taking place here. Squinting, I truly looked at them, this time searching for magic.

The church around them was a gaping chasm. Dark mist seemed to flow concurrently up and down from the shadow creature, spiralling deep beyond the stone into a place I couldn’t see. David’s skin shifted and curled with blackened tendrils, gripping like the roots of a tree to the soil.

Air that usually felt icy in his approach, was now turned into an artic vacuum.

My breath misted.

Whatever place their magic summoned from, wasn’t one I wanted to be in.

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