Diary of an Occult Resolution Assistant - March

This is an unedited short story by Chris Norgate. no part of it should be reproduced, copied or used in anyway, except a small part in a literary review, without express written permission by the author. 

A short story by Chris Norgate. Copyrights have been applied 2017.

Unedited draft of Diary of an Occult Resolution Assistant - March.. No part of this can be reproduced or used in anyway without express written permission by the author credited.
Set in the world of Diary of an Occult Resolution Assistant with characters created by Chris Norgate.

Diary of an Occult Resolution Assistant  - March

As I lay on my bed practicing as I oft did these days the small movements of air with slight hand gestures, that others in our coven could turn into powerful blows as if a jab had been delivered from the glove of a heavyweight prize fighter, I found myself not alone.

Xanthic had joined me and was sat amused by the side of my bed and although I had been deep in concentration trying, as it turned out, in vain to get my spells to do more than tickle the air around it's short lived passage from my fingers, I was sure I had not heard the door to my room open or anyone walk through it.

“Good morning Sunshine.” I said to my employer who was beaming as he were the very sun rising over the green tree tops of his estate.

“It is morning, although good is not the description I would lay upon it. I hope that by this evening we can call this a good day but as yet I am undecided.” he replied crossing his legs and leaning even further back in my chair. “What plans do you have for today?”

He asked me this question but utterly failed to wait for an answer as he had lept from his seat and exclaimed he had a job of work to do and I was to be his humble assistant.

“I need you to accompany me to the Lower Grenvielle Mass and be as obvious as you can while we are there. You don’t have to say anything and I don’t expect you to understand what is transpiring between the Beings we find there but I need you to be ever present and at the front of all things. Now eat a hearty breakfast as I doubt there will be many opportunities to stop for refreshments if we hope to be back before dawn tomorrow.”

I must admit I was confused over the proposition and although I did indeed have a very full day planned under Melody’s tuition plus a few errands I had for myself in town, I knew better than to question Xanthic when he was called away on business.

**

Breakfast that morning consisted of lamb hearts, toast and a black pudding made from the blood of the lamb. I wondered if Xanthic had known and had made a terrible pun because of it. A few of the girls, my sisters from the Aquilda (please find out how to spell that word again) were tucking in regardless of the meal but I settled for a slice of toast and a small bowl of muesli. I took two bananas from the bowl on the side and slipped them into my jacket pocket. I asked Melody who was mothering the small group as if they were school children about to leave for their days education if she had heard of where Lower Grenvelle Mass was but she did not.

“I cannot say I have heard of that place. It is not near here I can say that for certain. I can only assume it is somewhere that Mr Xanthic knows and I have the fortune not too.” she said always in fact with every statement as if even an inadvertent untruth could cost her more than she could ever pay. “I also assume you will not be joining us for today’s direction? You are falling behind the others more obviously now. I trust you are practising when your time allows?”

It wasn’t a question as such but more of an instruction wrapped up in a query. She, Melody had mellowed somewhat since moving in with us at the big house as if the water from the shower had eroded away all the hardness she had built up from the years living alone in her junk constructed home amongst the trees.

“I have, I do.” I contested. “I do little else than practice when I am not with you or Xanthic on one of his tasks.”

“Just see to it that you do, I don’t want it said that I failed any of my girls or left them to the mercy of others as they venture out into the world unprepared for what may await them there.” Melody said sounding very much like an old Mama in a Jane Austen novel where her young daughters must be married off to military men, factory owners or the ilk else face poverty and social rejection.

I was well aware of what the world held, or at least a much more rounded view than the mere mortals who had no idea that demons, angels, fae, magic users and other weird and wonderful creatures of myth and majesty occupied this wide world or lived under the blanket of stars in the sky. I cannot say at which point I had become used to such creatures, or the things I had met and understood to live side by side with us mortals. It does trouble me more than a little that I fully accept the knowledge of these things as if they were animals on the farm or exotic rarities in zoos. I changed that thought as they would easily be the visitors and we, everyone born of woman on this world be the cattle or exhibits if they so wanted.

I promised I would be extra careful undertaking my role as Xanthic’s assistant in occult resolution and wished everyone a good day’s learning, although I secretly wished they would all have trouble learning the craft Melody was teaching them as I knew I was the black sheep of this witch’s coven.

**

I was collected moments later by Xanthic who ran through the reception room of his expansive house and called for me to follow. He had got Kate, a blonde young lady only a year younger than I, to drive his new Jaguar around to the front drive. She seemed radient to have been asked to help and ecstatic that she had got to get behind the wheel of the modern classic car. I must admit I enjoy greatly the experience of driving, or being driven in it still.

“Thank you Kim.” said Xanthic to Kate as she left the car and walked back towards the house. We all knew Xanthic secretly knew all our names and a great deal more about us but in his way, he pretended not to care who was lodging, or squatting as he oft called it, in his house. For all his bluff and bravado, we had seen him pace the house at night if one of us had not returned at the expected time from one of his little missions or the thunderous look upon his face if one of the local boys had been too forward in their desires and left one of what I now think of as sister as true as any blood relative, in tears for trying to love another over them. When Samantha had fallen for the plight of a Nigerian man who desperately needed aid to buy his wealthy brother out of prison, Xanthic had sent such a sharp email in reply that a day later all her money had been returned along with a bonus with which to apologise and make her promise never to contact Nigeria again.

As I took my seat in the Jaguar I asked what the job was and if he could not answer that, how dangerous was it likely to be and for once Xanthic was very happy to explain everything, or at least everything that he currently knew or could guess at.

“I had a rather interesting conversation with an old friend of mine last evening and he has asked for a little under the radar assistance with something that has occurred within his remit.”

“I don’t remember you leaving last night, or a telephone ringing. You know you never answer it and one of us have to get up at all hours to answer. Why can’t they ever phone during the day? We’ve had to take up a sort of formal duty person routine so we all have a turn at the midnight watch.” I said.

“He isn’t really a he but as he has dressed as a male for all these centuries the prefix stands. And he certainly isn’t the type to operate a phone, even an ancient rotary phone with trumpet and mouthpiece screams of the modern world to him and he’ll sooner boil himself alive in vast vats of vinegar and holy water than operate such a device. No, he contacted me through the bones and hinted that he had a problem that he could not solve. The hint extended to the promise of reward if I could aid his understanding of what had transpired although he would never ask for assistance outright or in anyway that could be seen as a weakness. My kind are seldom open to admitting defeat.”

He had gone on to explain the Lower Grenvelle Mass was not a place as a city or village would be called a place but more of a location. An area occupied by those that followed a similar path and held similar beliefs. They were an eclectic collection of both those of the light and those of the dark and lived under a truce that extended further back into history than both the original census or the Bible could match.

“Demons and Angels have been friends for that long?” I asked interrupting him. Xanthic looked at me as he drove and shook his head.

“I doubt we could ever be friends with them, nor they with us but we are adults in a way that you will not appreciate and can look past small differences to see the similarities and build on them. But no, in this case they hate each other but live side by side to protect the relics they have been entrusted to secure from all parties who would use them to gain power or influence other the other. It’s like a war that’s raging in all ways apart from the physical. I have been led to believe that something has been stolen from one of their vaults and the thief has not been identified in the conventional methods. But that I meen through magic, deviation or scrolling back through the predictions and writings of the ancient Seers. So we have been asked to visit to shed a little light over the situation or, more likely, upset enough people that someone makes a mistake and tries to render our souls into millenia of torture and excommunication from this realm of existence.”

I tried to interrupt again to enquire whether this was going to be a dangerous mission as I maybe should inform my loved ones, look into buying life insurance or cancelling my gossip magazine subscription. My fears were averted by a pleasant smile. It always calmed me although since I have seen that BBC documentary on apes and chimpanzees who smile when they are about to attack or to ward off unwanted attention, I was never sure if I should entirely be pacified by his warm appearing expression.

“Not at all. There has not been any kind of violence or anger there in centuries. Not since brother Samuel trod heavily upon the hoof of Sister Georgia was a cross word spoken. The greatest risk that you may face is devastating sarcasm and poorly veiled contempt and that’s from both sides, believe me.”

We drove on for a little way further when we arrived at what on first appearance was a monastery of such ancient construction that most of it lay in masonic heaps around the site. Brown robed figures strolled between the buildings left standing and those that did not and there was a feel of aged apathy stewed from the juices of lethargy and stagnation. No one seemed to notice our arrival and if they did they did not care. We were left to drive along the lane and even as Xanthic mounted the grass and drove along what I could only describe as a gardened walkway we were left to do so unmolested.

Xanthic abandoned the Jaguar outside the main gates to the monastery building itself. You could never describe the way he leaves his vehicles as parking. And he thundered on the wood that barred the  arched portal from his entrance. Nothing happened as I joined my employer by his side and he growled as he was forced to pound on the doors once more. He used his whole forearm to announce our arrival.

“What do you want?” asked a tinny metallic little voice as if it had come from a speaker or an intercom. I looked around to identify it’s location but failed until I noticed what I at first thought of as a gargoyle face set into the door arch at waist height.

“We are here to visit an old friend of mine, Armaedies. He asked us over for lunch and as it’s a quarter past dinner time I’d appreciate it if you could let us in.” said Xanthic towards the stone head.

It’s blank staring stone eyes did not move one iota but I had the unnerving impression it was watching us closely.

“You may pass but the monkey has to stay here.”

“She’s very much with me. And I have been invited into these halls by Armaedies himself. So open the doors or face his wrath.”

The was a pause and the unmoving faced seemed to be considering it’s options. Then, with a faint click, the two tall doors swung inwards and a poorly lit passage into the monastery presented itself to us.

**

We walked out of the daylight and into the cool air of the stone building, fine statues lined the walls, or on closer inspection, formed them.

“Did you get anything from out there? Any twirly tunes or little ditties?” Xanthic asked inferring to my ability to perceive Others and Fae around me by the melodies that play inside my head and reflect their presence in this world as if they had an aura of sound that my mind could play like old vinyl records.

“No.” I said still looking around. “But I can feel the song coming from these walls as if the presence of Others had seeped into them over a very long time.

“Longer than you think. This building was here before your kind dragged themselves out of Scandinavia on a world tour that first took them to Africa.”

We walked on in silence until at the end of the passageway, which opened up into row after row of stone benches lined up facing a pulpit in the centre of a circular chamber, a figure stepped out and within my head a chorus of heavenly voices sung out.

**

The figure had been Damacus who had greeted us warmly and politely saying he rarely saw visitors in this place and was curious as to why now. Xanthic was equally polite and his sugary turn of phrase made my teeth itch as he said he was there for lunch with his old friend as arranged and for no other reason. It appeared to be a stand off between my employer who stood tall in his oily coat that even in the poor light inside the monastery, rippled with rainbows of colour and Damacus who was slighter in build but dominated through confidence and natural authority. A moment passed as if each man, or the Others in the shape of men, analysed each other.

“I’ll lead you to him. Please, cover your heads, it is our way here. We are all equal under the sky or over the earth. Your feet are already covered but please drap one of these over your heads and faces.”

We were given sackcloth sheets and I obediently covered myself as if there were no other options. Damacus’ voice was commanding and I had to follow. Xanthic placed his cloth over his head and twirled one end making a twisted rope which he wrapped skillfully around his forehead and then tucked in at the side. There was to the rear a flat piece left which he took up and covered his mouth and nose so only the barest slit for his eyes was left. I was stood there looking like a prisoner being led to the gallows or a drunk who couldn’t dress herself while Xanthic stood proud looking like an Arab Prince.

After this task was complete we were led through a twisting route over which I stumbled and hit into the walls on more than once and it was not until we had drawn to a stop that Xanthic informed me that there was no requirement to hide my vision, we were not being kidnapped nor were we being taken somewhere we should not know about.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” I enquired, to which he replied it provided a pleasant distraction to the monotony of the walk.

We were in a square room in which a vault door of the historic kind dominated one whole side. Behind us were stone so ancient they had settled into a single block and to each side a passageway the stretched off to turns that obscured the line of sight so I was unsure what lay ahead or behind.

“This must be in breach of the fire safety laws.” I commented jovially trying to raise a laugh but did little more than to fill the silence. “I mean, no fire escape signs, how will we know which way to run in an emergency?”

“In an emergency you run towards the light.” came the angelic reply.

I looked and yes, there was a light coming from somewhere down the passage from which we came. There was unhelpfully also a light coming from the other direction but it was more of a red throbbing glow as if molten metals were being worked in huge vats from that direction. It may have gone someway to explaining the illusion of heat and the smell emanating from that way also. The two lights, the pure white and bruised red merged where we were to give it a yellow light that left the eyes wanting more.

“You have called for Armaedies I assume?” Xanthic asked.

“Armaedies would have known the moment your polluting vehicle passed our boundary and your presence here in the antechamber would be an itch he could not scratch.”

Steps echoed around ominously and would have been deeply unsettling if Xanthic hadn’t hollered down the corridor. “Come on you bloated old goat, some of us have better things to do than moulder underground you know. I could be out running over small animals or writing believable but completely ad-libbed online news stories and post then onto the presidential twatter feed. So get out here and tell me why I had to drop everything and descend this far into the country away from the unfresh air of my beloved city.”

A sigh came and then we were a quartet. Pleasantries were given and I could tell the two residents of the monastery, despite their enquiries over each other's health and welfare, were anything but friends. My name and that of Xanthic were given by Armaedies and the reason why we were there although we all knew lunch was not the real reason both parties were happy it was accepted. Until.

“Cut to the chase Armaedies, I was summoned on repayment of an old debt and with the promise of a reward most attractive to me, that does not include cucumber sandwiches or cream cake. Now I know what you hold here and I know the pact that has been laid on this place so I assume it has something to do with the Longinus Spear.”

This statement was met with silence and looks from our hosts that I could only describe as parents who’ve found their children playing with the toys kept in their special drawer.

“How did you know that?”

The question came from both Armaedies and Damacus equally. One in a fine English gentleman’s tone and the other in a gruff Texan style drawl. Once more Xanthic was centre stage and loving it bit he did something that genuinely surprised me.

“Oh, I would love to claim full credit for this but it was my assistant that pieced it together on the way over. You don’t mind me explaining do you, Valentine?”

I stood opened mouthed and I was glad he was about to explain his last comments as I had no idea what he was on about but I could feel the attention that was still fully focused on my employer but still arcing now onto me. It was as if two very educated lecturers after decades of laying their wisdom down onto the very best and brightest of students who could not comprehend their words suddenly have a toddler utter the fundamental truth that their beliefs were founded upon.

“It was Valentine who commented innocently that it was strange that a friend I had no contact with nor any desire to regain links with, would suddenly invite me around for a pleasant meal. She also spoke of the legendary treasures that resided within the vaults defended by both sides of the eternal war from both themselves and the otherside. It was then that we plucked the Longinus weapon as the biggest and most fearsome tool you hold and it could only have vanished for the worry to drive you to contact me. My skill at finding long lost items is spreading fast and Miss Orphanet is a key part of my current reputation in these matters. Now I suggest we dispense with the stage dressing and go straight to the final act. I want to see the Spear.”

**

We were led through the vault, down a flight of steps and as cool air blew across my now exposed face I felt calm and peaceful in all things. I saw lines of books sat on old benches, tools and ornaments displayed on pedestals and plinths. This was like a treasure trove any museum curator would sell their soul and those of half their workforce to be able to own. The one thing we could not be shown was a spear.

“So it’s gone? How does that work, I was under the very real impression that the pact here, the truce, prevented any of you from taking it. Doesn’t the removal of artifacts from the chamber kill you instantly?” asked Xanthic admiring a book resting open on a reading stand. He flicked through the pages and turned the thick leather cover over to gaze upon it's cover. I could see both Armaedies and Damacus flinch at his actions but neither said a word.

“The legend of this place is not true. Not in its entirety.” said Damacus.

“The artifacts cannot be taken out, we act as guards over the exhibits and police over the other side. Two sides of the same coin. If an angel were to take from this vault then Damacus will instantly know and the way back to their side will be blocked to them.” added Armaedies.

“And likewise if the scum from the pit were to attempt the same. They would be forced to walk towards the purity of light and step through to my domain and be at the mercy of my angels with the vengeance of Hell at its heels. We hold a peace here, meeting only at the chamber that holds the vault entrance or out in the grounds. But if a demon is found amongst angels its existence is forfeit.”

“And any angel found wandering the path towards the dark will be at my mercy and I have none.” finished Armaedies.

“So let me get this straight.” I said rolling the last few statements around in my head. “No one can take anything and go home, and they can’t run through the other side. So where has the spear gone? I mean, you’d know about it won’t you? Are there any secret passageways or hidey holes?”

“If there were, over the last seven hundred years of us housing the collection here we would have found it.” was the reply from Armaedies. “I know every atom of this place and it is gone.”

Xanthic spun around and held his arms out wide and informed the two Bishops of Protection that he would solve this little matter if the price was right.

“We’ve agreed the reward.” said Armaedies in a tone I that set my blood to chill. I closed my eyes and tried to will my employer to stop playing games and help them if he can so we can get out of this place. Stood between an demon and an angel who had both been left in this place to play their little games did not make me feel comfortable at all, especially when I opened my eyes and saw the book he had showed an interest in was gone.

“No, we did not but lucky for you all I’m cheap. Now won’t you tell me what happened, when it happened, what you thought was going to happen and what you did when you realised that what you were going to do but couldn’t wasn’t an option.”

“It was Brother Haradon who discovered it missing. This morning at dawn when he began his duty as protector of the vault. He…” started Armaedies.

“Please, can I see this Brother Haradon and hear his words from his own lips?” asked Xanthic, “but first I want to have a little look around.”

His request was met and Xanthic was left to scour the floor and areas around the Spears last know resting place. He found a reddish stain across the cobblestones and a quick investigation informed him it was blood.

“We keep bowls of it around the Spear. For all its power it starts to rust if not left in a bowl of the liquid. We don’t normally use much, just a few drops suffice and the disciples, the humans that live here donate it freely. But the dish was broke and a new one was found, a deeper one and it was filled, like the last, to half its depth only this one was much deeper so there must have been almost a pint of blood in it. Which was fortuitous as the thief knocked it over during their robbery and left a trail towards the dark.

Xanthic nodded and followed the now cleared up but not fully removed stain towards the door of the vault. He asked again to see Brother Haradon and we were led from the vault by both Bishops. Xanthic turned to enter the passageway towards the light but he was stopped and led the otherway. He had made the mistake of assuming it was an angel that guarded the vault during the day as their power would be at its strongest during the hours of light. We were informed that here, it was the demons who stood guard each day as their opposite, who were stronger during this time, had other duties.

“It works for us.” said Damacus. “It means we show respect to our cousins.”

“But the guards would be weaker than any thief.” I said thinking out loud. It wasn’t a question as such merely a statement of fact.

“No, we would not, as our own side, those that would really try to restore the balance, would be at their peak.”

As soon as we stepped into the tunnel that stunk like a bin full of leftovers left out in the sun, Armaedies bowed low and reached a taloned hand to his head.

“An artifact has entered your domain?” enquired Damacus. He took hold of Xanthic and reached towards his coat. My employer withdrew the book and handed it over shrugging as if it were a fair cop and he was caught red handed.

“A security test?” asked Armaedis.

“If you like.” was Xanthic’s reply.

**

Brother Haradon was a small demon unused to seeing others that had not always been here. He was wary of Xanthic who he considered inferior to him in status and nothing more than a heretic for not showing the monastery his full respect. Of me, he failed to acknowledge my presence at all. I remembered Xanthic’s words and walked around always trying to remain in front of his vision in this small room to which we had been brought. to where I assumed Brother Haradon spent all its time when not doing whatever they filled their time with here. The smell was disturbing to my senses but no where near as disturbing as the calls and screams that echoed along the warren of corridors or from rooms uncountable on this side of the monastery.

“Just tell me what you saw and what you did and we’ll be out of your hair, or whatever scraps you have growing out of your head under that cowl.” asked Xanthic sitting down on a pile of books and magazines.

A look to his superior told Haradon that he had better get to the point real quick. Haradon looked down realising his options were greatly reduced and began to recount his tale.

“I went to the vault as was my weight I am obliged to carry. I took over from Brother Ezil and as our way, we walked into the vault. When there the smell was intoxicating, blood was everywhere and I had to control myself. It was Ezil who found, or to be be more accurate, did not find the Longinus Javelin. The Spear we were bound over to protect. It was my watch, so as procedure, I dispatched the filthy traitor with my own hands. Then I raised the alarm and Bishop Armaedies responded and shortly after, Bishop Damacus came in with his aides. They took what was left of Ezil away and I told them what happened. The spear was gone.”

“And no one knew that one of the other side had entered their side of the monastery? Neither of you felt that something had entered your half?”

No one spoke but Haradon was trembling.

“I know if the Spear is not found it will be my fate to join Brother Ezin for failing in our sacred duty.” wailed Brother Haradon in a voice what could strip paint from its wood.

“Unfortunately, if I find the Spear I’ll also save you from that end. Swings and roundabouts can’t win all the time can I… well most of the time I do. Tell me, are there any visitors to the vault while you guard it? People may want to pop in now and then to check things over or research things from the books, I assume they are searched as they go in and out of the chamber.”

“There are visitors but they are not searched. Not for close to five centuries have we felt the need to search anything entering the vault or out. There is nothing they could take in and leave that would disrupt the running of the vault. And if one of those sanctimonious doves tried anything then Bishop Armaedies will know as soon as they step across our threshold and Damacus will send his toothless dogs after them.”

A call sang out and a demon and angel barged into the room. After apologising to their respective Bishops they both held out a bloodied robe stretched between their hands as if they were too afraid the other would not do the job they had done.

“Where did you find this?” asked Damacus as Armaedies let him take up the cloth.

It was held out and allowed to fall showing blood splattered down the front presumably from the bowl knocked over during the robbery and two perfect handprints on the chest, streaked as if the perpetrator had wiped his hands down it.

“In one of the room Your Grace, I believe it was a meal room, Sir, but from the state of it I hesitate to address it as such.” answered the angel who appeared flushed and out of breath. I guessed the sights he must have witnessed and the smell we could all testify too would do that to even the strongest of supernatural beings.

“It is true, Lord. Under a mess table. We found it as part of the search you called for.” said the devil.

“Good, good. You have done well.” said Armaedies. “That is an angelic jerkin and as it was found within my territory it must have been one of your followers who did this terrible deed. I demand the highest punishment on you and your order.” The last of the words were aimed directly at Damacus who had formed his features into that of a general preparing for war.

“There is no proof, I was not alerted to the act and neither were you. None of my people would even dream of this let alone put a plan into place to remove an artifact, and one as powerful as the javelin that pierced the side of the Christ as he hung on the cross is unthinkable. And who would do this? Not Ezil, for the price he paid. I have spoken to all my aides here and none have any clue to assist.”

“I also.” thundered Armaedies. “I have done all but throw them on the racks of correction to get to the truth of the crime and I believe all of them when they all say they know nothing.”

The tension in the small room boiled over and Xanthic asked to be taken back to the scene of the crime. It was cooler there and as beads of sweat that before, in the rooms of the demons rolled freely down my back, those same beads were now freezing me to the core.

“What are you going to do?” I asked baffled over how we could possibly do anything. We had a room, guarded at all times with something that had been stolen, only it couldn’t have been as it would have instantly alerted whichever supernatural being that ruler here if it had passed into their domain. Then there were the fact angels were involved, they had to be innocent in all this, it was in their job description. So that left…

“One of the demons is lying. They have to be. I bet they had an accomplice that…”

“An accomplice? To do what? No, I don’t think that’s right. Look at this for a second for me and tell me what you see.”

Xanthic held up the blood stained jerkin which I looked at and offered up my running commentary of observations.

“It’s white or as white as it can be with the quality and age of the cloth. The blood looks to have fallen straight down so it kind of splodges down the middle. Two handprints show where the wearer wiped their hands before removing it. There are two long sleeves which look ok, four buttons around the neck, all of them are still there, the collar looks ruffled but that’s to be expected from wearing it. No stains around the back so it wasn’t a girl wearing make up.” the last comment I added as a flippant remark as my mind struggled against the enforced bonds of seriousness. Now Xanthis and I were alone once more I felt more at ease and able to be myself. “Look Boss, I have no idea, it’s a blood stained shirt and that’s it. It was worn by the thief and he ran off down the corridor hoping for freedom and took it off to stop any suspicion. One of the demons was lying and knows all about it and we’ll probably find it stashed in one of the rooms somewhere waiting for all of this to die down so it can be removed and sold for profit. I bet the thing that killed Jesus would go for a packet on the black market.”

“Hmmm, I was thinking the same. But consider this, demons cannot lie. That’s something that you can take as gold in the bank. The truth is far more harmful than any outright lie, we may stretch it to breaking point, as my kind is good at in other areas also, but we don’t outrightly lie. I think it’s because we’re just not very good at coming up with believable stories. Originality is not something that comes easily to a race so old.”

There was a gathering and a number of Brothers in habits both light and dark. Their attitude informed me we were short on time and shorter on luck if this turned bad. An overly large bearded man pushed his way to the front of the gathering monks and entered the room, he dragged in with him the anger and despair shared by the crowd and I was sure he meant us harm for no other reason than to quell his own temper.

“Xanthic, you worm! How dare you enter here. What scheme are you working, I demand to know.” he bellowed as he strode towards us.

“Stay jovial.” Xanthic said to me out of the corner of his mouth. “Keep that smile on your face and stay in front.”

I enquired whether I was to remain obvious again and Xanthic chuckled saying no, that time had passed but if the veil was to fall and the peace to break, he just wanted someone between him and the big guy.

“Ah, Bonvex, how the centuries have been kind, I can see you’ve been working out.” said Xanthic over theatrically stepping forward to shake the demon’s hand. “Still playing second fiddle? Come in, come in. It is your dungeon after all and we are just planning on leaving, urgent business in London.”

“You’re not leaving until we have an answer.” boomed a voice and we turned to see Armaedies wading through the masses gathering outside, using elbows, knees and several other pointed joints that I utterly failed to find names for as I had never seen that kind of body part before. The head bone’s connected to the neck bone, the neck bone’s connected to the rib bones, the rib bone’s connected to the spiked jabby bone and a pointy thing bone…

“Armaedies, do come in and join the party. I’m sure we’ll have everyone here soon. Ah, I believe the leaders of the opposition are here also. Do all come forward, Bonvex, you may have to step back to let your boss in.”

Bonvex exposed a set of teeth that would have made a great white shark envious and gave no quarter until Armaedies pushed past and although the former was much more physically proportioned, he was dwarfed by the rage the dark Bishop extruded.

“Our deal is off, Son of the Flies. We prepare for war. Leave this place and run in fear for the end of your world draws near.”

“Oh, Armaedies, always the optimist. But I don’t think so, not just yet. Besides, if the world is set to war where would all the rabbits go?” Xanthic grinned as he spoke and I wish I felt half as confident as he appeared. “War over a misplaced item, isn’t that going a little too far. I know you’ve been starved serious entertainment such as the works of Shakespeare, Tolkien and those fine fellow who write for Neighbours, but this is but dust in a sandstorm.”

“Stay your venomous tongue young demon lest you slip the last wedge from my sanity and send us all to war. If you know of this crime speak it now and no more of your twists and turning words.”

Damacus was shaking as he spoke his words yet I know not whether it was rage or fear that caused his minor convulsion. My look towards my employer layered upon him my own feelings which mirrored those of the angel and my desire to leave this place with all my inside bits still on the inside.

Xanthic turned his head taking in the scene, he noted, I am sure, the weight of bodies that had broached through the vault door to stand in an arching circle around us, each with looks of confusion and anger within their eyes and I am very sad to say those looks were aimed at myself and my employer. He spoke then, in words that captivated the ear of all within and without the vault.

“I will, with some regret, speak now of all I know and then I and my assistant will depart with all that is due.” there was some carousing as Xanthic spoke but it was soon cut down by the desire of others to hear what was said.

“The question here is why. Why? I ask you why for thrice times. Why was this crime committed, why was I called above all the inquishioners, investigators or truth seekers that are far more qualified to conduct such a delicate problem and lastly, why the bloody Hell did nobody think of asking the right questions or seeing what was going on?”

“And you’re going to enlighten us all on the matter?” sneered Armaedies. “That I would like to see before you and your mortal become the first casualties of the fight that must come.” there were demonic and angelic cheers to this statement and Xanthic had to wave his hands in a placating manner to regain command.

“That was, after all, why you summoned me. But not as ai doubt to solve this matter but to be a witness to the start and I have no doubt we or I would have been allowed to escape and tell the tale. But I am no patsy, I am no fool to play the tune you give me.” Xanthic threw down the jerkin and it unfurled as it landed. “Why this? Blood on the shirt as if the thief had spilled the bowl of blood, Valentine, tell me again what you see.”

I gulped summoning my voice which had retreated into my throat. “Um, blood, poured down the front from where, as you say, the thief knocked over the bowl and then to escape he must have taken it off, wiping his hands as he did so and then hid it to allow him to escape.”

“Yes, on the surface that is a very convenient story.” said Xanthic.

“Get on with it.” interupted Armaedies. “The mortal has the grasp of it, now leave before you fall where you failed.”

“If you allow me, Look at the shirt. Hand prints, where the culprit wiped them but he, and I only say that as most here appear more masculine than anything else, wiped his hands, two perfect human looking prints but look closer. No blood on the buttons, neither have they been ripped or pulled off so they were undone if the shirt had ever been worn at all. Look even closer and you’ll see the blood is thickest from the waist to the hem. If the blood had been spilt in haste or carelessness I very much doubt it would have fallen onto the fabric in such a manner. I am no expert in the study of liquids in motion, but not even a single drop or splash has appeared anywhere, nor are any streaks present. It appears to me that the blood was put onto the shirt when it was laying flat and not being worn.”

“Preposterous.” exclaimed Armaedies to Xanthic’s last statement. “Why would anyone conceive to undertake such an activity?”

“I am so glad you came onto that because the blood on the jerkin is but a part. If the thief had spilt the blood then made their escape, why wait until the distant catacombes to dispose of his soiled clothing? Surely if they had left the room either covered in blood or sans jerkin would arouse at least the quantum of suspicion from the duty guard. Surely they would have questioned someone exiting the vault, even if the excuse were to be they knocked over the bowl, which I believe has already happened very recently, it would have been remembered.”

Damacus seemed to think on this. “I can see that, but it is not uncommon for those unused to the vault to turn and flee with what they discover locked with. If the guards were to take note of all these individuals they would have a log stretching the incalculable distances of our chambers.”

“Aye.” called Bonovox. “But you forget the commission laid over the Bishop’s mantle. They feel pain if an artifact enters their jurisdiction. My Master will know if something was brought through and the mirror of it on their side.” the last words were spat as if even the mention of the lighter side of the monastery left a bitter taste in his inhuman mouth.

“Your time is over, Flies born. The Spear of Longinus is not here, we would know it. If their word is true, they do not have it and I have spoken to all of my under-demons and all vouchsafe they did not remove the spear not secrete it and as you are well aware they cannot be false to me.” stated Armaedies and the feelings were reciprocated by Damacus’s gestures.

“You know I tell you the truth that those under my guidance would not let the briefest thought of this enter their minds.” the light Bishop said as he approached Xanthic and myself.

Once more I felt small surrounded by these monumental forces and I renewed my inner wish that Xanthic would get to the point and end this rigid stress over my heart.

“I believe what you say is true. But we know just as well that you do not speak the truth. I believe the spear was taken from this place deliberately and for the one reason of forcing a confrontation between the sides. The jerkin is a deliberate ploy to lay the seed of doubt and the blame firmly in the dark corridors of this place. A deliberate and calculated ploy which saw planning and inventiveness substitute intelligence. The jerkin was planted and the original bowl replaced otherwise the evidence would not work if it was not noticed. One angel has already paid the price for this crime and I am sure it was designed to increase that number a hundred fold.” Xanthic said becoming very animated in tone and gesture and I was sure it was this hummingbird approach to hand gestures and this alone that that prevented an onrush of robed persons to rip us both from the world of the living and render our remains to grease under their stamping feet.

“You cannot believe the Bishop had any part in this?” called an angel who, from his size and demeanor I struggled to apply the title to.

“I do believe and that is what I now say. The Bishop did not just have a part in this, he had the whole. All of it in its entirety.”

A chorus of protest and disbelief from the light was broken by jeers and calls from the dark.

“Weren’t you, Bishop Armaedies.”

The calls stopped instantly and a growl went up. Xanthic continued quickly.

“You speak the truth when you say none of your followers did this because it was you.There is one reason why you did not inform anyone of the sensation given to you if anything is moved and that is because it was you who stole it. I have no doubt the spear is still somewhere within your private rooms, the only place that would not have been part of the search for surely the Bishop would have known an artifact was near.”

A fluid motion brought four large dark clad men towards us as a surge of water engulfs a seaside town as it rises to a tsunami. I feared for my life, no I feared for the pain I was sure to descend upon me and I hoped the end would be close so I would not be left in agony for any length of time. The tidal surge did not come for me. Bonovox seized the moment and towered over his Master of the last ten centuries, his closest lieutenants circling him.

“How dare you, traitorous swine. You believe the word of this thing than your own Bishop?”

“We have a truce and it must be observed. Hannoman, take another and complete the search, One way or another we will have an answer.”

We were left there in the oppressively cold vault deep within the ground and I was dripping to the point of drowning in my own perspiration. Not a single soul spoke, but as I had the only soul in the entirety of the rabbit warren catacombes I was thankful that not another voice was raised. I imagined this was how people felt , sheltering within their air raid shelters during the Blitz, waiting for the bombs to drop and wondering every second if that moment was to be their last. Whether this moment would be my last. I drew close to my employer who placed his arm around me as if he were a mother duck sheltering a brood. I felt protected but still aware that if this went sour, there was no one to protect Xanthic first.

“We have it.” came a call, “The Longinus Spear, we have it.”

Bonovox growled down at the Bishop who had ruled over him for more time than my mind could imagine. I could imagine, on the other hand, those years might not always have been kind and supportive. The huge demon saw the truth of it there in the Bishop’s eye as he looked up and tried to talk his way out from his cornered position but before he could utter a single syllable huge claws that moments before were wied hands, came down silencing him, if not forever, then for a considerable amount of time.

I stood there struck dumb through the realisation of unknown emotion at the bloody murder in front of me. My heart did not beat and those non-existent beats rattled through my body like an ancient van rattling itself to bits as it attempted to get above 50 miles per hour on the motorway trying to keep up with the other cars. I was visibly shaking and unable to fully catch my breath. The situation was eased when I realised the Bishop and the new dark leader had called for their followers to depart about their routines and not to come out whilst company remained within the antediluvian walls.

Xanthic left me where I stood, I was too scared still to follow his movements but he returned moments later clasping the book he drew a fancy to earlier to his chest.

“What are you doing, Xanthic?” asked Bonovox through teeth that looked both human and tiger to my tear streaked eyes.

“I have fulfilled my contract with Armaedies and I now seek to leave unmolested with my reparations.” Xanthic said confidently.

“You seek to leave here with a relic charged into our protection? What gives you the faintest idea I will allow that, that we will allow that? Especially now Bishop Armaedies is rendered ”

“Because you are both honorable, in your unique ways. Because a deal was made and that means more here even than handshakes in Hatton Garden.”

“And the book is your payment?” asked Bonovox.

“Armaedies and I discussed my payment and he showed me the book and I was very very happy with it.” the words were left hanging in the air between them as the demon thought it over. The seconds stretched far beyond what they should decently be allowed to and then the demon smiled.

“Take it and go. We have more to do now than ever and you will only taint the difficult conversations we must now have to try and regain the trust for the truce or let the mortal world despair for what must follow.”

We left and as we were as welcome as a bloated floating stray cat corpse in an otherwise perfect holiday swimming pool, there was no requirement for us to cover our heads as a guide led us quickly back to the entrance. As the huge doors were pulled inwards the beaming sun stung my eyes. The mid March temperatures, so chill on my skin a few hours before when we first arrived here was now as welcoming as a tropical heatwave.

The short walk back to the Jaguar was one of silence as I did not know what to ask first  and Xanthic did not want to answer, but at some point on the journey I plucked up the courage to ask what had transpired. Xanthic was rare in his explanations and actually gave meat to the bone and not the glib replies I was more used to.

“You see.” he said. “Demons may have a lot within them but originality and creativeness are not amongst that number. I think poor old Amaedies had finally snapped from his captivity and thought of a way of ending it. I doubt any internal dispute would have been allowed to spill over into the world outside their walls, there is too much at stake to both sides to let that happen. A change is as good as a rest and Bonovox may not be my first choice to high management but I am sure he will bring an enthusing dynamic to the place for a decade or two before normality settles again.”

***

We arrived back extremely late and my promise of practice was quickly forgotten for the luxury of a long hot soak in the bath. For Xanthic, whenever he showered there was nothing but an unending supply of steaming water for me,  but in a house with this many women, hot water was something that lasted as long as a tub of top brand ice cream. I settled for a cold shower and found my bed and next to it my diary. And in a way of reminding me what had happened, to lay the story down for anyone who finds this book in the future and possibly fulfilling my role but mostly to try to explain to myself what had actually happened to me today.