Take a close look at this box of figurines. They look like toys, don’t they? Well, I suppose they are playthings of a kind. They’re a bunch of tiny demons! Look at how much effort has gone into carving them, each one is uniquely ugly with slightly different features, reflecting the variety of unholy creatures that swim eternally through the forbidden realms. These figures were created by a Satanic cult in the 1980s and handed out to unsuspecting members of the public as a way of proliferating some evil ideology. We’ve determined that most of these figures are just pieces of pseudo-religious tat. But not all of them were harmless…
Another night of angry screaming, screaming beyond
hoarseness, beyond what the human voice could possibly produce. The neighbours
banged the walls, cats out in the street wailed in sympathy, and Mrs Angela O’Neal
went even further out of her mind.
At five am, she sat in the kitchen, lit cigarette balanced
on the ashtray unsmoked, and cried. Then she stopped herself. However much she
was going through, she understood, poor Jenny was suffering even more. Another
long scream echoed from the bedroom upstairs as if to confirm the truth in her
realisation. Not for the first time, Mrs O’Neal wondered if a pillow placed
over Jenny’s head might solve all their problems. No, she decided. She had to
hold on to her hope that things would get better. That the demon inside her daughter
would go away.
The doorbell chimed at 9am exactly, and Mrs O’Neal ran
downstairs, two steps at a time, to answer the front door. ‘Oh, thank goodness
you’ve…’
She found herself momentarily startled by the appearance of
their visitor. Of course, it was well known that the new arrival was blind, but
Mrs O’Neal was not prepared for the gaping eye sockets. The man looked like a
haunted skeleton wearing a tweed blazer.
‘Algernon Gervais, at your service, madam. May I take it
you’re happy for Cerberus here to accompany me?’
Mrs O’Neal looked down at the wolf-like guide dog. ‘Yes,
please come inside. Dogs are always welcome in this house.’
‘And Exorcists? What about them?’ he strode in and let her
close the door behind him. I’ll save you the trouble of finding a polite way to
ask the question on your mind. I knew to call you ‘madam’ because I can smell
your perfume. You must be the lady of the manor, correct?’
She nodded, before realising how pointless that was when
communicating with someone who couldn’t see. She’d only pick up on the sarcasm in
his comment later – their council house was hardly a manor. ‘Yes, Mr Gervais,
I’m Mrs O’Neal. Jenny’s mother. Thank you for agreeing to help us.’
‘Never said anything about helping, did we Cerberus?’ he
patted the dog. ‘Can’t make any promises, not where the occult is concerned.’
He sniffed. ‘Do you have my money?’
She handed him an envelope containing ten newly minted pound
coins. ‘As you requested. I really hope you can help us. We’re all out of
options now, and we don’t have the funds to pay for any sort of specialists...
You’re our only hope.’
She started to explain about the failure of the family
doctor and local vicar to help, but Gervais silenced her with a chopping
motion. ‘How did this all this start, that’s all I want to know.’
‘I wish we knew,’ Mrs O’Neal sighed. ‘I just wish we knew.’
…
A week earlier, after completing the first of her part-time
jobs in town, Jenny was rushing for the bus when she bumped into a strange
woman.
‘Look where you’re going, darling,’ the little woman
snapped. ‘What’s the rush?’
Jenny threw her hands up. ‘I’m so sorry, I’ve got to get
that bus, or I’ll be late for work again.’
She needed to keep the boss of her second job happy as a
promotion was on the cards, and she and her mum desperately needed the extra
money.
‘He won’t promote you, darling’ the old lady called after
her. ‘He has his eye on that David for the role.’
Jenny came to a halt and turned around. ‘What did you say?
How could you know that?’
She noticed the dark eyed woman was dressed in a very
old-fashioned way and was wearing a strange symbol on her silver necklace. But
she was smiling, her eyes wrinkled at the corners. ‘You need a change in your
life, darling. Here, take this,’ she pressed a cool figurine into Jenny’s hand.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t have any money,’ Jenny said quickly,
aware of the sales techniques of some in the travelling community. Once they
have the goods in your hand they wanted paying.
‘I don’t want your money,’ the woman replied, offended. ‘He
likes you,’ she indicated the figurine. ‘He wants to be one with you.’
Confused but too polite to argue, Jenny nodded back. ‘Thank
you, but I really need to get this bus now,’ she put one foot inside the
vehicle to stop the driver from closing the doors on her. When she turned back again,
the woman was gone, disappeared.
On the back seat of the crowded bus, Jenny examined the
strange figure that had been forced on her. It was about four inches high, a
naked man with large feminine breasts poking his tongue out. She turned it in
her hand wondering what on earth it could be made of. It wasn’t plastic, wood
or stone. Perhaps it was valuable? She certainly hoped so. The figurine had a
pointed tail, the barb of which pricked Jenny’s slim finger, drawing blood.
She gasped loudly, and a few other passengers turned to see
what was wrong with her. She smiled at them, reassuringly, and sucked her
finger. ‘I’m fine, just an accident.’
After they resumed their conversations or found something
more interesting to do, she looked again at the figurine. Horrible little
thing. She would throw it away at the first opportunity, get it out of her life.
Of course, by then, it had already got its hooks in her.
…
‘Girl is upstairs, I take it?’ Gervais let Cerberus lead him
up the stairs even before being invited. Mrs O’Neal trailed on behind.
‘Yes, second door on the right. I… er… must warn you, Mr
Gervais, she can be… dangerous.’
‘No need to warn me about the dangers of the supernatural,
my dear.’ His hands started to move towards his face, towards his empty eye
sockets, but he stopped himself. The last thing he wanted – or deserved - was
pity.
She understood his meaning, having heard the stories. ‘That
door there. Good luck, Mr Gervais. Can I get you a cup of tea?’
He stopped at the threshold and produced a hip flask.
‘Brought my own poison, thank you.’
He took a deep breath before following Cerberus into Jenny’s
room and quietly closing the door behind them. It was a normal teenager's bedroom,
nothing immediately ominous - not that he could see any of it. He could sense
that the curtains were drawn, rooms often had a familiar cold, musty quality
when not exposed to the light of day. There was a foul stench – not just the
normal adolescent smells, but an evil quality which he had encountered before.
Cerberus growled in the direction of the heavily breathing
girl on the bed.
‘There, there, boy,’ Gervais comforted him. ‘I don’t know if
you can hear me, girly, but my dog won’t harm you, unless I tell him to. If
you’ve got a demon inside you, it’s me you need to worry about.’
There was no response for at least a minute, and he began to
feel his confidence subside. Then Jenny O’Neal – or the thing inside her –
laughed at him, a low growl.
‘Something amused you, girl?’
‘I see the barrel is being well and truly scraped,’ she was
surprisingly erudite. ‘First doctors, then holy men, now… well, what are you,
exactly?’
‘Algernon Gervais, expert in matters of the occult.’
‘Have you dealt with a case of demonic possession before, Mr
Gervais?’
He stumbled closer to the bed, Cerberus staying close to the
door, sensing danger. ‘Can’t say I have. I do have experience of the demonic
however, as you can see.’
‘You are blind.’
‘Ten out of ten for observation.’
‘You would love to look at this body, Gervais, if you could.
It is young. Fresh. Would you like to touch it?’
‘Not today thank you,’ he answered, though his tongue was
hanging out at the thought of it.
‘What is this you hold before me?’
He took the lid off the hip flask. ‘Just a little holy
water. Let’s see how you like it,’ he tipped half of the contents over the girl,
and she reacted with mild shock but not any sort of supernatural revulsion.
A moment later she said, ‘You’ve made me wet, Mr Gervais.
Was that your intention?’
He snorted, annoyed. ‘Just trying something out.’
‘Is that all you’ve got for me, blind man?’
‘No,’ he answered quickly.
‘You’re an idiot. Stupid f**king idiot.’
‘Better than a liar, girly.’
‘What do you mean, blind man?’
‘I submit to you that you’re not possessed at all. Why are
you doing this? For the attention? Perhaps you’re just mental? You O’Neal
family seem the type – common and desperate.’
‘You do not believe that a demon fights for control of my body?’
‘You didn’t react to the holy water, did you? I’m not afraid
of you, like everyone else seems to be. Of course, if you really were a demon,
you’d prove it.’
‘How?’
‘By doing something only a demon could do. You shouldn’t
need me to tell you that, my dear.’
The girl roared and thrashed on the bed. He stepped back,
sensing the horrible change which was rolling over her. ‘Is this suitably
demonic enough for you, blind man?’
He tossed the rest of the holy water over the creature. This
time it reacted like acid and the demon inside Jenny screamed a different kind
of scream – real pain this time.
Mrs O’Neal knocked urgently on the bedroom door. ‘Is
everything all right in there?’
Jenny – and it was Jenny replied. ‘Mum! Mum, I’m back!’
Mrs O’Neal barrelled in, almost tripping over Cerberus. She paused before her daughter, suspicious.
She certainly looked her old self, if a little tired. ‘Have you cured her, Mr
Gervais? Tell me you’ve done it?’
‘I have done it,’ he confirmed. ‘The demon inside her was
giving control back to Jenny each time someone tried to exorcise her, just long
enough to escape the impact. There are rules you see, even with demons. It’s
just a matter of evoking them and making sure they follow them. The holy water
has scared it away. I’ll work with you both to keep it away.’
Mrs O’Neal hugged Jenny and when it was over, tried to hug
Gervais. He pushed her away.
‘Let’s talk about money, Mrs O’Neal. The fee for my
continued protection will be five thousand pounds.’
Mrs O’Neal was flabbergasted. ‘I… well, I couldn’t possibly
afford that, Mr Gervais, I’m sorry. It’s just me and our Jenny on our own since
Alan died…’
He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Very well. I’ll just return
the beast to young Jenny, shall I? Is that what you want to me to do?’
Both were astounded. ‘No! Please!’ Jenny wailed. ‘Please,
not that!’
‘You wouldn’t!’ Mrs O’Neal offered.
‘I bloody would you know.’
The older woman looked at her daughter and shrugged
resignedly. It felt horribly like they may have switched from dealing with kind
of one devil to another. ‘Well… perhaps we can arrange a repayment schedule?’
‘I think we’d better. I’ll return on Friday for the first
instalment. If you haven’t got the money, you’ll have to offer something else
instead. You or the girl, I don’t mind which. Come along, Cerberus.’
Gervais let himself out.
Mother and daughter held on to each other, tightly.
A thoroughly reprehensible character, that supposed
expert in the occult, Algernon Gervais, features in several tales associated
with items in the Scarlet Vault, so I’ve no doubt we’ll be hearing further from
him, whether we’d like to or not. He was responsible for rounding up these
figurines and dealing with the fallout from them – but only for his own grubby
reasons. It was from his private collection that we acquired them for
safekeeping. The elderly Mr Gervais was reluctant to hand them over, as I recall,
but I was able to convince him by threatening to boil him alive in an acid bath.
I wonder where he is now, and how he was judged.
See you again sometime? Enjoy your nightmares.
