The Journeyman - the collected diaries part one

Diary of an Occult Resolution Assistant is out now on Amazon and Smashwords or through any eBook retailer.










The Journeyman,  The diary of an occult resolution assistant.

 

Part One.

Do you believe? Believe in what is the hardest thing to decide upon. But I believe, I thought I always did until it happened, and then I really believed. But if I had to explain to you what it was that I believed in I think I would fail to vocalise the sum of what it is. I do not know, but I guess that's the point in belief. All I know is that IT is there, burning in the cold, lighting the dark and providing the soundtrack to all our lives.

Music is the only constant; the universe has a beat all of its own and it is to this beat that Worlds circle and comets fly. Huge gas clouds pulsate to it and black holes ring with it as the consume everything before them. How do I know this? I've seen it. I've not been there, or even remotely close to it; but my mind has travelled there past solar systems, distortions, lights, all these I have seen fly past my senses and each more beautiful that anything I have seen before. But the most impressive single thing in the whole of everything is the music.

I've swam through the void with an orchestra beside me playing melodies that were created with the birth of the universe and added to in depth and tone with every new star and modified riffs when the explode at their end. My heart beat in time with the one true beat and at all times I could feel the Journeyman, my employer filling every part of that space stretching from home, Earth, throughout all of space and time. He promised me an adventure when I arrived upon his door for an interview for a researcher position; and he has delivered everything I could have dreamt of and more. But then, at the start of it, I had no idea what was going to transpire nor did I expect to be taken from a small semi in the South of England and be propelled outwards to where I am now. .........ok, its a semi detached in the South of England; but I heard the sound and it opened up my mind.

*

I am sitting in a hospital bed, typing this on my phone, do you know how long it takes to hook up a sentence on a screen with the smallest touchscreen keyboard? Well, putting it simply, this small task should fill up my time before I get a clean bill of health and sent home..........or until my pitifully small battery gives out.

The first day here I spent trying not to move due to the pain in pretty much every part of my body, that and trying not to bleed too much. Yesterday I had a visit from my employer. I had asked him to bring me something to read following a text he sent to enquire about my recovery, not I am sure out of concern as he also asked if I could run into town on an errand.

Well, he brought me in some books; all handwritten note books, but I get the impression they are all the same to him. So I read them, and then I read them again. At first I thought they were a work of fiction, a start to a literary career but with the worst sci-fi fantasy plots imaginable and totally unbelievable. But with more time to read I am starting to believe they are diary entries as brief inter-net searches link to real time incidents reported in publications on weird and wonderful that I would never have though existed until now. I found comments and links to web addresses, this being one of them, and as yet the only one I could crack the password for. its reading is interesting and goes someway to explaining the strange feelings I get around my employer. For those that do not know, or for my family who worry about me getting a real job! My employer is some kind of antique dealer relic hunter type who fills his time hunting down weird and wonderful things (definitely not old dusty junk as I once observed) and reacquainting them with their old owner or new. My role in all of this is wearing down shoe leather by running between library, warehouse, old ramshackle huts and gothic mansions, or the odd pub or modern new build house filled with ram shackled, gothic and dusty odd people. So much for the newspaper advert which stated adventures in the occult for the brave believer for which I applied; being a witch it seemed too good to be true not to apply for. My intuition must have been having a bad day when I did.

*

The white walled hospital ward housed beds made to industrial spec, all two inch thick bars of cold metal sumptuously layered with stiff rough off white sheets. I don't know what would hurt more if I were to hit my head on them, the metal or the sheets. In my mixed ward there are 12 beds, currently all filled with an assortment of sleepers, coughers, drippers, mobile phone users and unfortunately for me, talkers.

"So, what are you in for?" asked the occupier of the bed two down on my left. "that looks like a nasty head wound." He had gestured as best he could with a broken arm towards the reddening bandage wrapped tightly around a distinguished gentleman's head. We called him the Gent as he insisted on keeping his tweed jacket on over the top of his blue/white striped pyjamas.

The sound that followed sounded like it came from a chimney and smelt like an ashtray, the Gent was speaking. "I don't remember much." he smoked. "I was in the polling station when one of my neighbours came in so I smiled at her and as I handed over her ballot paper I just mentioned I had seen her husband earlier; he was waiting when they opened the doors first thing and he must have been very eager to cast his vote and almost as quick to leave too. Next thing I know is she's leaping the schools folding table we borrowed for the day and was using my head to dent the ballot box. All very strange as I thought her to be the most gentle and caring lady in all our previous dealings." The Gent scratched his head as he talked and worried his damp greying hair.

There was a small collection of nods from the willing (or otherwise trapped) participants in the conversation. Before anyone could offer their insights or sympathy to the Gent for his misadventure, BQ jumped in with his story, almost as if he hadn't really wanted to know what the others had to say but wanted generate a reason to talk about himself. I called him BQ for his obvious love of all things wood, glue and metal and the need to join them together at home without reading the instructions.

"Well, there I was at the front door on this beautiful sunny day, the first we've had and I thought to myself I'll get on and fit that door bell the Old Woman has been on about." He had a way of talking that was 90% laughing at his own story and 10% louder than anyone else in the conversation. "Well, the drill wasn't charged, so I got the old electric one out of the shed. Rusty but good, as I always tell the ladies. Well anyway, drill meets door and its wobbling all over the place so I obviously have to open it and hold it with my other hand. They never tell you this in those stupid instructions written by idiots who've never picked up a tool in their life! Never actually read them myself, only a nube needs that"

"Bingo" I thought as he mentioned the lack of instructional prior learning.

"Well the door still shook so I put my foot there to stabilise, obviously the doorbell people never thought of all this when they made their cheap rubbish, but you gotta fit it when the Old Battle-axe wants it or there's no end of trouble." He gestured boobs then horns with his good hand and as best he could with his plastered one.

"Well one thing led to another and I had to stretch to the middle of the door and get the drill straight, that's one thing the drill people don't think about then they make their rubbish, and how was I to know my hand was the other side! Drill bit went straight through door, hand and garden fence."

A few laughs abruptly stopped as the story continued fast so not to allow anyone to interrupt. "Had to call for the Little Lady to come and help, well she was sitting down watching rubbish on tv or in the kitchen doing whatever it is they do in there and she had no idea what to do, did she, couldn't put he drill in reverse and didn't want to touch it when the blood shot out."

"And they plastered you whole arm for a hand injury?" Asked the Gent, managing to crowbar a comment into the torrent from BQ.

"Well, it was only a small hole till we got in the car to come here, then she saw the blood drip through my hanky she drove into a parked post van."

A sharp hurumph trumpeted around the ward.

"Who's that?" Asked the Gent looking around for the source of the disturbance.

"I'm the bloody postman!" came the response.

This looked like it was going to turn into a long and tedious conversation and I was pulling back into my pillow to fake sleep (or failing that a coma) to escape my turn to talk, when my employer, the enigmatic Mr Xanthic exploded through the double ward doors; a doctors coat pulled tight across his standard style.

"Ah, there you are." He said staggering in through the door. "Can I get you to do a little favour for me before they find me and drag me out of here."

I was shocked at the entrance but nodded my acceptance. Then, looking over his shoulder to check no unseen to me pursuers could witness, he drew out a large curved and very bloodied knife. Then with a smile he collapsed to the floor.

*

FRIDAY....................

As soon as he entered the room the music hit. It washed over and around me as if I were a pebble on the beach to eternity and the waves caressed me in their motion. A symphony of universal proportions temporary overwhelmed all of my senses but as the trumpets reached a crescendo I was pulled back into the room by the bloodied knife that was starting to produce a puddle of colour equal to or greater and all other colour in the room (that's the NHS decorating style for you).

I shot straight up in bed, colour draining from my skin and a cold sweat began to form across my shoulders and back. I remembered to breathe and hastily glanced around to see what reaction the other inmates to the ward had; but they all seemed to be carrying on with what they were doing but slightly slower and slightly quieter. I call this The Grey, a background that shrinks away when Xanthic doesn't want to be noticed or when people just don't want to believe their eyes; they just carry on regardless and lose all colour compared to the spectacle of my employer, the Journeyman.

I pulled back my cover and threw out my legs, not flinching at the pain or the cold as my bare feet touched the tiled floor but stopped as Xanthic lurched forward with the help of two extra arms wrapped around his waist. He pulled one of his tricks and casually stepped out of the arms and behind him was a skinny security guard looking confused.

"Sir......" He said, looking for all the world like he had forgotten why he was there and embarrassed as to why he had put his arms around a stranger. Xanthic turned to face the poor guard with a smile on his face a tiger would have been proud of when looking down on a freshly caught small furry meal.

"Ah, young man." Oiled Xanthic. "I believe you are here to show me the way out of this wonderful establishment. Lead the way." He waved his arm to show the security guard the way. He turned, looked straight at me, threw the knife lazily so it landed softly side on my bed and said in a stage whisper. "Keep you phone close." Before allowing himself to be led away from the ward, building and hospital.

As The Grey began to lift and the background speed returned to normal I hastily covered the blade with my sheets and drew it back under my pillow, curling up into a ball I lay down my head and closed my eyes. I don't think my act of sleep fooled my room mates, especially as I clutched my phone to my chest and (due to the no ringtone policy of the hospital) kept checking the notification panel. I stayed like that until the light began to fade from the sky and harsh electric light replaced the glorious Spring sunlight. Then, as I was beginning to drift off into the oblivion of sleep my phone erupted into life and a picture message appeared on the screen. I rubbed my finger in the unlock swirl and to my horror an image of a dead body appeared. As I looked closer I could see it wasn't what I thought, not a middle age man with a hole in his chest and half his blood missing. But a body, yes with most the vital fluid spread around in places not conducive to a long and happy existence, but the ears were too long, as were the teeth and eyes shaped of almonds and as black as pitch. I pulled the phone closer to my eyes so I could see more clearly in the bright gloom of the room. Then the body in the photo shot towards me with inhuman speed, mouth wide, teeth sharp and dripping with saliva and as I convulsed in fear and my phone dropped away from me towards the floor, I saw that mouth bite where my hands had just been and then the image was gone.
 

*

SATURDAY...........................

The clock on the wall, a four digit 24hour plastic brick that was illegible during daylight hours but bright enough to flood green light through the whole room after dark, clicked onto 00:00. My phone lit up as a call came in. I swiped the screen to pick up, recognising my employers credentials on the screen. It came up Private Number, much the same as when cold callers or PPI sales robots call, but I always know when Xanthic calls, its like its a different and very Private Number.

"Shhhhh," Was the first thing I heard coming from the tiny speaker. "I haven't got long and neither have you. I'm looking into a series of occurrences that are happening in that place and you have to do a little digging for me."

A flood of instructions followed as to what I was required to do, but with all instances of my talking to, listening to or being in the same room as Xanthic the music poured into my soul. Note to self, practice concentration techniques as I have just missed most of what I should and shouldn't do. The beat was more fantastic than any song, it was life, all life, creation and destruction in a toe tapping rhythm. I wondered if Xanthic knew he leaked this beat everywhere he went and if everyone could hear it, or if it was just me and some ability I had over the general populace; I doubted the latter, although I do believe my mind is more open than most, or all that prancing around a field at midnight collecting herbs wasn't a waste of time.

"......just don't do that!"

The last of the instructions dragged my wandering mind and brought my attention straight back to the call and what I technically get paid for. "But for now just look into suspects and let me know if anything turns up. I'll be around, but as I have already upset the local security drones with that little mishap earlier I can't come in plain sight. Oh and keep that dagger safe, its the only thing that will work. I mean it, the ONLY thing." Then he was gone and my phone went black once more.

I had a vague sense of the need to spring into action; but it was too close to midnight for my liking, especially as I've seen more 00:00's on the clock since meeting Xanthic than I ever have in the previous 22 years; so with all dedication to my job, I curled up and drifted off into a very fretful sleep.
 

*

10:22am

I woke, that in itself was worth noting in this diary. the night before led to images of blood, death and fear. I could see inside my mind the suffering and coldness felt by many people, never seeing their faces, but instead seeing through them at the horror that stalked them in their final moments. Alas I did not see that which terrified them either. I felt confined, not by any earthly chain or lock but from a force pushing them down and holding them there while the worst happened.

There is one thing I have learned in my employment, that is people may hide their true intentions from the world; but others (Oh how the Others) cannot, even if they try with all their strength. But then again, I have been proven wrong in the past. For all this I work as a front person to Xanthic's activities and try to learn the truth of an individual's nature and hopefully right a few wrongs along the way (trust me its not as glamorous as it sounds, and involves a lot of walking around, oft in the cold and rain). So to work I thought. I had missed breakfast, so with the notion of finding food in the shopping area of the entrance I made my excuses from the endless fussing of nurses and the mindless jabbering of the ward flies and walked off with the intention of miss finding my way (although in a modern hospital it is almost impossible to walk and reach any intended location).

There was a constant flow of the ill, infirm and the (virtually) undead staggering in one direction; from the way they clutched their little packets of death (or cigarette boxes) I guessed they were heading for the entrance and the only smoking point in the building and the worst welcoming sight for ill people ever. I headed the other way and after a misadventure in maternity I ended up with the wall colours changing from sterile white to bright yellow and cartoon characters scattered about randomly like chicken pox marks over a toddler - talking of which, this was the Children's Ward.

I remember being here with a broken arm, and leg, and another arm (well same one a year later) and having the time of my life with all the other children staying up all night and keeping the nurses on their toes.

This time I saw the place through the eyes of an adult and it was a different sight entirely; the bright walls, cartoon-ish graphics and colourful nurses uniforms failed to hide the aura of the patients who smiled, cried, hugged or slept close to their loved ones. My first instinct was to leave, get as far away from here as quickly as possible a wave of fear had come over me and the compulsion to leave was immense. It was this that froze my feet to the hard tiled floor and in a second of complete panic I saw a crying lady; hands over her face, hunched over and sobbing so hard her body convulsed with every cry. I thought about approaching and offering support or to call someone for her, but I did not, could not.

A nurse walked by and saw me staring and started talking to me, that broke whatever spell I had over me and my legs moved once more; she spoke and although I could not hear her words through my staring at the crying lady I thought she said they had lost two more children over night and (as I was obviously a patient on the hospital) offered to get me back to my ward.

She called over an orderly who was wheeling a sleeping child in his bed back into position in the ward following some kind of operation, the orderly was large, broad shouldered and dressed in a large thin coat that I have only seen on school science teachers or weird hardware store assistants. He docked the bed into place and turned to walk towards us as the nurse had called him over by name.

Ludo Opem, the name she called, caused him to smile at us and when I saw his face he was more hairy than anything I have seen outside of a bear encloser in a zoo; a beard as long as his arm and dense as a rain forest. My sense of panic rose again; not because of some weird beard phobia (beardaphobia? fizzogaphoic??) but every time the direct sunlight from the windows shone on him as he approached his skin turned from red flushed pink and black gloss hair to grey and pealing rotting flesh and ragged greasy hair. From a beautifully calming smile to teeth chipped and yellow, hands of strong muscle and healthy tone to skeletal and clawed. I knew an Other walking among us when I saw it, and here one was, firmly entrenched in a ward full of sick children, and from the aura that seemed to stretch from him to them via impossibly thin and pulsating musical threads, feeding from them.
 

*

11:15

I would like to say I stood my ground and raised Hell against the thing in front of me, but I cannot. To my shame I turned and ran back to the safety of the corridor. I did look over my shoulder, the thing known as Ludo simply shrugged its shoulders and went back to work on the children's ward.

Ok, I knew I had to get help, and fast. So my phone was in my hand before I knew it and I had already unlocked the screen with a swipe of my thumb. It looks to the observer as a touch screen pattern lock; but as I use this thing as a diary, PA, phone, data safe and more importantly......music, I put a spell on it to only unlock the secured areas of the memory to my touch.

The phone was answered almost immediately.

"Not a good time" came a very reedy voice, clearly out of breath like when my mum calls when I'm on the treadmill.

"Not good for me either." I said. "Small case of demon feeding in a children's ward here." I stated this very matter of factly as Xanthic has a habit of one-up-manship.

"Big case of zombie infestation here." Came the snappy reply.

"Are they eating kids?"

"No, locked in a basement of an abandoned factory."

"Well I think I win this time. Stop playing with your friends and get here quick, we need to stop him." I was trying to stay calm, but the fate of the children had to be more important and I was also scared, angry and more importantly hungry. I was trembling with it all.

"Are you in personal danger right now?" Xanthic asked me.

"No, I ran......but we need to stop that thing."

"Can you explain what you saw and why you think demon and not something else. I could have sworn I was on the trail of a Vor or some kind."

"No, its a demon, like the ones you showed me in your book. ( I referred to a leather bound reference book, written in the romantic script of a medieval monk who, according to Xanthic was aid to his own demon Master. I should also point out demon is not the same as Demon, for which I am sure you will begin to understand as I have at some point.)

"Hold your position and I'll be there as quickly as possible. Don't do anything silly, and don't try and talk to it. If it speaks to you, keep your mouth shut! That's a direct order." The phone rang off, and it was at this point I noticed how quiet it was as all though the phone conversation I could hear string music - the aura of Xanthic, strong even through mobile signal waves.

I found myself back at my hospital bed; a note saying I had missed rounds and the change of my bandages and to seek a nurse to do it once back. I placed this note back where I found it in the hope I could get what I needed from my stuff in the bedside table and be out of here before I was noticed ( I had a small vial of holy water and an ancient page copied out of an original scroll from before any holy-book had been compiled -it wasn't an all powerful anti evil text, but as good as, even if it was scribbled out in green biro on the ripped out back pages of a library Latin to English dictionary; which I wanted to use to stand guard in the children's ward; but the Gent started talking to me about how important it was to be here for Rounds and that alerted a nurse to my presence.

With a roughness I had only previously felt at the hands of the school bullies, I was ushered to bed, a curtain drawn around, then stripped, bandages removed, wounds and bruises inspected and fresh dressings applied. I was then ordered to bed and instructed that a very close eye would be kept on me and not to wander off.

With a resolution to get back on the hunt as soon as my guards in scrubs were distracted (this is the modern NHS, they must have hundreds of needy people more important - or making more fuss than I). I found an online text book on an open source ePub site, flicked through a few images of demons from old woodcuts to find something I could use or anything that may educate me on what I faced.

But my eyelids grew heavy and my phone I was reading fell against my chest and (as the Gent and BQ testified later) I began to snore, the dividing privacy curtain providing as much soundproofing as a black sheet over an amp at a student party. It was for this reason I did not hear the squeaky wheel and heavy footsteps of an orderly pushing a bed along the corridor and into my ward. I also didn't see Ludo move back the curtain around my bed and enter.

*

01:20

I dreamt I was sailing in an old leaky boat with the waves lapping at my side and the cool briny air gently flowing over my body as I slept. It must have been night as it was dark, there were no stars, just a frequent set of comets leaving yellow trails across the night, as regular as lane markers on a road....... the aroma of fresh ocean spray started to go bad, a strong rotten fish smell, punching through my nose and deep into my brain as effortlessly as a sledgehammer punching a pin into sand. I tossed, rocking the boat; fish started to float on the surface of the calm ocean, rotting and breaking up as soon as they broke through the water into the air. My heaven was turning sour and I thrashed more widely trying to get up from my position and find the oars to escape the locality.

My eyes opened. I gasped and went as cold as the arctic sea. I was on a hospital trolley, being wheeled down a corridor - the hard florescent strip lights above me like the comets of my slumber. I could not move, from my peripheral vision I could see I was secured in place with ambulance issue straps crossing my chest, abdomen and legs, with two rectangular orange pads either side of my head keeping it in place with two bright orange Velcro straps laying on my forehead and across my chin.

The smell of rotting fish caused me to gag, and then I was suffocating on a cough I could not shake away. I tried to sit up to open my airway but this was a fruitless exercise and pain rose within in as I struggled to draw in the slightest of breath. A hand as leathery and wet as an sodden firefighters glove brushed my forehead and a rasping dry voice told me to stay calm. Darkness rose behind my eyes. I did not know if I were seeing my last sight, if the oxygen in my body was finally spent or if I were succumbing to a drug or spell.

*

Some time later.

The pain in my head was that of an industrial vice crushing a peanut. Behind my eyes was a light so bright I should have been able to see the sand on the moon, if I could have open my eyes. My throat was dry, too dry to call out for help and my ears were burning hot.

I thought for a moment I was back home, in my bed with a migraine that would have stopped an elephant; but my back was against something hard and rough, my clothes were pulled tight in places where the fabric was being pulled and gripped like against the bark of a tree when I climbed them as a child.

I could not hear. I could not see because of the blinding light behind my closed eyes, but it was the absence of sound that disturbed me the most. It was not a void of sound, but sound being obstructed from making contact with me. It was then I realised I had two large hands firmly gripping my head from either side, so hard I could not move it even though I had begun to force my weight to the left and right. I put my legs into the force and felt the hands slip, as they did I could hear chanting, Latin probably or a language just as old and twiddly, being spoken so harshly it was if a dog had growled the words at the back of its throat.

I knew who had me, it was clear and the thought in my head was I did not want to die, not here like this; in pain and alone. My body worked without my thinking and my hand slipped into my pocket, it grabbed the spell sheet and arced around hard and fast and brought the spell sheet and my open palm down in a slap that echoed off the walls. I was satisfied to hear a howl of pain and in that moment all pressure was lifted from my body and I rose, spinning around to face my attacker.

He was sat on the floor, a wooden board covered in chalked runes, geometric shapes and patterns, none of which I knew or could decipher, between his legs. The marks were smudged where I had laid on them and by my movements. We were in a store room, one not frequented by many people,  judging from the smell of wild animal. The room was dark, a half light entered around a dirty brown blind that I suspected was yellow at the start of its life. The items on the shelves were old, dust covered and from a previous time before disposable NHS tools and equipment. An array of sample bottles, chemical containers, each with a skull logo or a fish laying on its back in a polluted river - both telling me they would make bad drinking but might work as a weapon if I needed it. The rest of the room had odds and sods laying around. Boxes of paper records, typed inventories, a microscope and a Bakelite radio.

Ludo was sat cross legged but now kicking his legs out, his left had clamped to this head where I had slapped him, the skin there reddening and blistering. God, I thought, I didn't know holy texts had that much power in them - something to remember next time (if there was a next time).

There was a distinctly hairy aspect to Ludo here; gone his orderly coat, in its place a bare chest covered in tattoos depicting images and scenes of demon and humans in chases, battles, torture, and other things too detailed to comment on. There were horns upon his brow; ringed like a ram and curved from front to back so they so the points were aimed at his ears. Sharp teeth were displayed at me as he grimaced and swore.

Ludo stood, long legs, with knees too high and ankles halfway between the knee and cloven hoof. Hair sprouted everywhere, it was brown like a coconut and just as rough, matted with dirt and grime (I hoped not with blood but it was hard to tell). The whole look reminded me of the body of a dead badger we found by the side of the road as children, but larger and more goat'esque (and grotesque).

"You Bitch!" It spat, "That hurt like the Father's kiss."

"Huh?!!" was the best I could reply. My heart was beating a tempo quicker than any thrash metal band would have been proud to play to and I had no idea how to get out of this.

My experiences with the weird and weirder in this world usually came with a hand to hold or a book to learn from first. The most dangerous thing I had to deal with outside of school bullies in my adolescence, was standing up to a parking warden who ticketed me even though I had bought a ticket (and to be honest Parking Wardens definitely count as weirder!)

Shit, my mind wanders like that at inappropriate times. Ludo had started pacing towards me, like a cat stepping slowly closer to its prey, waiting for the opportune moment to pounce. In my pocket i could feel the bulge of the holy water bottle; I carry it in a stoppered vial on a short chain; it looks more ornamental than it should especially as its intended as a weapon, but its not until you need to use it for the first time that you actually think about how a squeeze bottle full of the stuff would be better in an emergency (it could double as a thirst quencher in a fight too).

My fingers felt for the chain and I pulled the vial out, aiming to replicate the attack i made with the spell sheet. Ludo jumped then, hands outstretched to attack, I saw his eyes turn from milky yellow cream into red orbs as colour flushed into them like dye mixed into moving water.

A strong hand grasped my wrist before I could bring it down and the other pushed Ludo back so his feet left the ground and he flew the short distance to a wall unit and showered the room in faded records and notes from NHS patients long gone.

"I like the attitude kid, " Said a voice. I turned my head up and saw Xanthic smiling at me, his eyes hidden behind thick sunglasses even here in a dark room. "But please don't hurt my friend there, he's a good chap really." He smiled a disarming smile like it was a weapon and put his other arm around me.

"You look starved." He said. "And I think I owe Ludo a drink at the very least over this. Shall we go get an energising salad from the cafe at the entrance, or go to one of the fast food places for a lump of grease in a sugar filled bun?"

Xanthic offered a hand to Ludo who tried to stand, shaking his head like he was trying to get a bee off him and I watched as the redness bled from his eyes. He looked more human how, less hair (than before but still way more than most humans are comfortable with) and all his joints seemed to be back in the correct anatomical positions.

The only difference was a red mark in the shape of the glyph for "Peace" blazing on his left temple where I had slapped the spiel sheet down. I thought I could see the glyph for "forgiveness" half hiding under his hair, the two pictograms looking like a kids scribble on his face.

"Where do you find these remarkable individuals?" Ludo growled as he regained his footing and stood up.

"Lets get to somewhere......"Xanthic looked around, "More conducive to polite conversation, shall we. And if they can serve me a bucket of coffee more the better I say."

We followed Xanthic from the room through a door situated behind me (How could I have not seen this earlier?) myself keeping well out of the way of Ludo who was behind me, so much so I squeezed past Xanthic in the doorway and bumping him into the frame.

"Sorry Boss." I said

"Think nothing of it." He smiled rubbing his hands down his coat smoothing out any wrinkles added during the coming together. I saw something pink sit proud in his pocket. Normally Xanthic's clothes fit him like a shop mannequin, straight up and down with no curve other than the body below them. But here was a bump, a large bump, something sticking out the fabric. I made a mental note to sneak a peek when the opportunity arose; you never know, the Boss may have brought me some grapes for my stay.

Sadly, later I found out it was not grapes; But the freshly (if you could use such a word to describe things relating to 'them') amputated or ripped off hand of a zombie.

*
 

Later Sunday.

We were sat around a small plastic table, it had three uneven legs, not bad for a tripod.

I could hear the familiar sounds of an orchestra's brass section because of Xanthic's aura singing at the back of my mind; but this was enhanced by a deeper beat coming off Ludo like a heat haze every time we made contact - this was difficult to avoid due to our uncomfortably close proximity to each other in the cramped café.

With my personal soundtrack in the background I began to think I was more concussed by my injuries than I first thought as I was sitting on a wonky wire seat at a table with a self confessed demon and something that looks like a rotting corpse (and smelled like one too) every time the shadow passed away from him and he was left in the light.

"Please explain to me what's going on." I asked. "Five minutes ago I was being held hostage by that thing there and almost murdered I might add, and now I'm having a cup of tea with him!"

"Captive." Said Ludo

"What?" I spluttered.

"Captive, not hostage." Said Ludo. "You're only a hostage if someone has requested a ransom. And I never did......"

Xanthic waved us to silence and lent forward gripping his small plastic cup filled with brown lukewarm water masquerading as coffee.

"You were in no danger." He said.

"What do you mean no danger? " I erupted. "HE." I pointed at the thing introduced to me as Ludo who just leaned back in his chair with a sheepish grin and playing with his beard.

"He drugged me, took me from my bed, laid me out in God knows where, talking in some goth tongue and was going to eat my brain or something. "

What I wanted to do was run out of this noisy cramped café at the entrance of the hospital. The harsh electric lighting reflecting badly off all the white plastic tables hurting my eyes and forcing me to look upon the two figures in front of me and not try to look elsewhere and detach myself from the situation. One my saviour, the other my attacker but both my only oasis of colour in a sea of artificial light.

"Please sit down my dear. I want to explain things to you and that is hard when you are drawing attention to yourself." Xanthic sat looking at me and realised I had risen from my chair. I sat down, folded my arms tight across my chest and sliding as far away from Ludo as I could. O.K I was being a little childish but hey, I am the injured party around here.

''Long story short as we haven't much time here and I am needed elsewhere; so shut up, stop pouting like a fish and listen.''

Xanthic began one of his monologues, you can feel the weight of centuries within his wisdom but I always thought of lectures from my Dad when I screwed up as a kid.

"Ludo here is one of Us here on Earth and I trust him as far as I trust anyone born of Otherwhere, which usually isn't that far but Ludo is a Poenavore, an Under Fae. They are related to the other Extraxi in some mix or other that I and others are at a loss to understand, but it works for them."

"What the Hell is a fairy Deadmother doing in a bloody children's ward anyway; I thought the master plan was to hunt out these freaks and kick them back down the hole they crawled through." I hissed through my teeth as I tried to keep a smile aimed at Ludo.

"Not exactly and you know it, we encourage the alternation of plans not suited to my Lords and Masters wishes and if they do not agree then we kick them back down the hole, or the bits of them we can find if the Lords and Masters catch up with them first."

Xanthic shuffled in his seat and pulled at his lapels on his jacket and then settled into his seat to continue his input. He was centre of attention, a place he frequently aimed to be.

"We all have to eat you know." Said Ludo under his breath

I almost stood and punched him in the face (I'm sure the half rotten maggot filled flesh would have splattered under my blow and his brain would have fallen onto the plastic fake wood floor.) But I could hear the tempo of the musical aura of Xanthic start to pick up (usually a sign of imminent danger or He's getting annoyed - or both).

"Ludo is a Poenavore, they eat pain, feast on the suffering of agony. Many of their kind cause a lot of pain to people, animals or whatever they can get their claws into. The smaller ones, young ones are very fierce and rip into flesh and extract pain by the handful, but some grow old and cunning and have learnt the bitter sweet pain in mental suffering and cruelty of the mind. They whisper in the night that your wife has been unfaithful or your Boss will give your promised promotion to that Bitch in accounts. They start off small but by the time they finish with you there is nothing left, well sometimes a bloody heap under a bush, but mostly just a shell of a man too paranoid and stressed to function; And that's why I have to hunt them, not because of what they do but because they do not leave the soul of the man in a state it can be corrupted or coerced to discolour through acts and deeds suggested by other Others."

A spotted teenager pushed a brush along the floor leaving a wake of crumbs and napkins behind him, the general cleanliness improved by virtue of hiding the rubbish under the tables. As he came closer Xanthic eased sideways over the arm of his chair and whispered words never heard but felt deep and clear. The youth stopped, dropped the broom to the floor, stormed towards the teenage looking manager trying desperately to look middle aged, shoved him two handed against the counter, turned and thundered out of the café ripping his sweat stained uniform polo shirt and discarding it in the self service waste disposal stand alone point by the door.

"What was that all about?" Ludo asked. "I thought you had given up on playing with the mortals."

"Got to keep my hand in."

"That poor boy, what did you do to him? You haven't damned him by inciting violence have you?" I asked unbelieving my own eyes even though (like the majority of the clientele of the café) I had followed the whole performance from start to finish with my mouth open.

"The boy is an innocent, or as innocent as a teenager can be with that level of hormones coursing through his system. No, he wasn't my target, just had to light the blue touch paper, sit back and enjoy the show."

The manager-ette had lost his footing, grabbed the glass counter front and got one foot under him before slipping on a napkin dropped by a customer in a hurry to grab a coffee and doughnut and run, and then hit his forehead against the glass; A greasy mark now adorned the fresh cake sign. A laugh was quickly issued by the customers all around and then just as quickly muted when the red faced young man turned to face us all. He busied himself trying to get to his feet, pull himself together and look unperturbed over it. A young waitress rushed over and tried to assist get him upright and kissed him on the cheek; suddenly the mood changed, What started in shock and them humour turned into a group embarrassment. Another girl, this one from the back of the place ran over after hearing the commotion, took one look at the waitress who had just pulled away from the kiss and slapped her hard around the face. She then recoiled her hand and thumped who we soon found out to be her even sooner to be ex-boyfriend.

"Bastard!" Was the only clear word I could make out, but the additional slaps from both girls around the guys head rang out loud enough to carry the full meaning of the conversation.

Xanthic had started talking again and I reluctantly turned my attention away from the three way personal Armageddon.

Ludo saw me looking blank and pitched in. "I got to the point where I had lived amongst Humans for a century or two and made a few friends and........." He paused and looked up; behind him the fight was getting more intense and the heavily sweated shirt and tie wearing teen found that as the two girls were now focusing on each other he could pull back and crack open a bottle of cola displayed on the countertop then he looked at his watch and walked away.

Ludo continued. "One of my friends had a child, I was asked to be a Godparent, I was shocked as you can imagine but I couldn't attend the Christening. Nothing to do with the church you understand as that doesn't work on our level but I had a holiday booked to go back home. When I got back all the celebration had turned sour, the little darling had been ill, meningitis, it hit hard and fast and every time I saw the baby after that it was drugged and in a troubled sleep or crying in the arms of its parents who were crying just as hard. There was no time and after that my friends were never the same." Ludo shuffled in his seat and gazed over each shoulder and lent in further. "I then thought I would help. I fed from them and eased their pain; taking enough to help but forcing myself not to take it all and break them. After that, I could never go back to my old diet of hunting the streets at night and influencing drunks to argue or fight, so I took a job as night porter here and sit with the children and make their time easier by removing their pain. I'm not expecting a medal but if I can help a child sleep at night then that's enough for me."

The story continued and it was explained by my two companions that Ludo was now rejected by the bigger two sides of the eternal light/dark, heaven/hell, yin/yang or them and us disagreement. The other Poenavore see him as a traitor to the old ways and the good Fae, angels and Angels see his actions as preying on the weak and innocent. Xanthic says he supports him because some of the innocents recover and grow up to be brought unto the dark where they would have been retired pure; but I like to think its because although he is a.........creature of the dark, he has a soft spot for us all really really deep down.

"So why the fuck did he have me in fucking place with all the voodoo crap?" I politely enquired of my employer. "That sure as hell didn't feel like he was working for the Angels in any way shape or hairy arsed form!"

"You were attacked...."Started Xanthic.

"I know, by him." I was struggling to keep my temper here, can you tell?

"No, " started Ludo louder than he meant, but with a force of nature under it that I slipped back in my chair chastised and shamed by the work (and magic behind it) like the time my Dad caught me sat on the kitchen worktop with my hand in the biscuit jar at midnight when I was seven - I thought I was being clever and sneaky but apparently I had turned on every light and bounced down the stairs loud enough to wake everyone up.

"There was another, I can feel them here, somewhere. They are taking too much, feeding off the vulnerable. I think they have been hurt, and hunting easier prey. It is dangerous, injured and willing to fight for survival It went for you and poisoned you. I was pulling its contamination from you or you would have died and it would have fed from your remaining time."

"And that's why we are here." Said Xanthic, elbows on the table now with hand under his chin. "That's why you have the blade. Its blessed and cursed and almost unique in this part of the world. It will prove invaluable in what we need to do, and soon."

I went cold, ice flowed through my spine. I had the knife, it was.......somewhere, so why didn't I take it with me when I went off on my solo adventure, I had looked though my stuff and........

The look on my face obviously alerted my companions as they both lent in and asked my almost simultaneously if I had the blade.

I had to confess that I did not, not on my person, and I couldn't remember where I had put it. Then it came to me, it was under my pillow, my pillow that was NHS issue and they had a tendency to change anything that had trails of dried blood running across them. I orated my concerns over the whereabouts of the knife thing Xanthic had given me. Xanthic jumped out of his seat, which fell backwards and bounced of a couple on the next table who looked over in surprise and disgust. Xanthic was already striding to the exit.

"We have to find the blade and retrieve it NOW." He said; Ludo and I were quickly gathering things from the table and leaving behind him.

As we left, the trails of brass and strings building tempo with Xanthic's mood falling away in our wake, the manager of the hospital café was on his mobile, presumably to head office or a more senior manager demanding the sacking of two of his staff fighting during a shift and in this action making his soul and the world a little bit of a darker place.

We had arrived back at my hospital ward at pace, but slowed when we heard the commotion from within.

*

BQ was calling for a nurse, everyone was calling for a nurse, the police or in one case their Mum.

Luckily this being the NHS under a Conservative Government, not member of authority was present to answer these calls.

Xanthic, already in the lead increased his pace and burst into the ward through the double doors and demanded in a tone of voice so commanding it had an immediate effect.

"Can someone tell me what is going on in here and the rest of you return to you beds."

It was incredible to see, but 12 adults put their heads down and shuffle away like four years olds caught out of bed by Dad.

"Who are you?" Asked BQ, the only one who (I was later informed was too closed minded to anything other than his own little internal world to fully bend to conformity)

"I am a Doctor and I am telling you to get back into your bed." Even my knees started to bend forcing me to reach out for support; the cold bony hands of Ludo who caught me snapped me back into reality - and sent a chill up my spine.

"Is he really a Doctor?" I whispered to Ludo.

"Yeah, I think he is. He walked into the local university one day, solved a student infecting fungus problem, taught them something about space dimension and walked out with an honorary doctorate."

"Oh, I always wondered how you got one of those."

"Now what is the meaning of this fuss?" Asked Xanthic in his best old school master tone as BQ sat back onto his bed. BQ, with fingertips only, held forward his hand and dangling from it dirtied knife. This one was nothing special just an old kitchen knife with a blunt blade, old dirty faded wooden handle with a rivet missing and a prominent bend to the last inch of the dull blade.

Xanthic took it from him in a handkerchief flourished and then disappeared in a second. With the knife gone the temperature in the room increased and the mood of the inhabitants dwindled in equal measure.

A nurse walked in, one of the big old fashioned matron types from films and TV in black and white, as broad as a sofa and just as well stuffed. She looked around with a grimace of one drawn rapidly from an importance engagement for a trivial matter only to find that matter less trivial or none existent upon arrival. She was not happy and wanted a focal point to display this fact on and with a gaze that took in all her domain her eye settled on Xanthic in his most unhygienic oily black leather long coat, frayed and ripped through lifetimes of wear and toil.

"Just who........"She managed to get out before Xanthic expertly turned upon his heels and faced her, a winning smile displayed across his expressive face; his eyes betraying the smile with his true emotions for her at this time but the smile was enough to win his faces argument.

"Dr Smith, here for my rounds and you have urgent matters elsewhere that need your expert attention." The smile was static throughout his speech.

"Um yes, there are......." The nurse looked confused, "Who did you say you were again?"

"I am here to help." Xanthic turned to the nearest bed and picked up the clipboard and the medical notes it held, he lowered his head and read them. "My work here is to save life, or at the very least prolong it. Now go about your business so I can go about mine." Xanthic dropped the clipboard and as it fell it hooked back over the bed and rested.
 

We were left alone and I swear the nurse almost curtsied as she left. I stepped forward to my allotted bed and began to search where I though the blade could have fallen; I lifted sheets and pillows and kicked my bag laying under the bed to one side but could not find it. Xanthic stayed my hand by placing his on my arm and said into my ear not to worry about looking any further. I obviously looked puzzled (or confused - which is my normal state with the majority of matters concerning Xanthic) into my hand he placed his handkerchief, it flowed across my outstretched fingers as soft as a mist rolling across a field, but when the last of the silken fabric brushed the tips of my hand a weight grew there and under that silk as it whipped away with a flourish and twirl by its owners hand, a knife appeared. It was not the wooden handled kitchen knife of the one taken, but given was an antique. It looked to my highly untrained eye to be a bayonet; I've seen similar but only on war films with Brad Pitt or Tom Hanks dashing around Europe at some point in recent history. The blade I might add was as sharp as a brick and probably just as hard to stab someone with, at least with the weight I could do serious damage by hitting someone over the head with it.

"The task before us still stands. Somewhere close there is something feeding off innocents and we must locate it with haste and bring it to an end." Xanthic looked into my eyes. "But for now you are tired, you are drained, have been drained by the very beast we search for. This tells me it is known to you and you have met and have been recognised as a threat." He looked over me, my hair, my face, my neck and body.

"Our presence here has been noticed, it has attacked and lost. So does that mean it will flee and find a new source of succour or dig in and fight for its territory?"

A two tone alert siren sounded out of a voluminous jacket pocket. Xanthic stopped talking, looked at his chest and put his hand inside his coat. Silence soon followed and Xanthic looked up gravely.

"It appears I have urgent business elsewhere of the utmost importance."

"What's going on? What was that noise?" I ask, totally unfamiliar with the alarm and not wanting Xanthic to leave me here alone. This was also a concern to Xanthic himself as he continued.

"Its a couple of hours until nightfall. I doubt anything further will happen until the dark has settled over the land. I will endeavour to be back here before that happens, but what I need you to do; what I need you both to do is find something to narrow down the suspects; without becoming the main course!" He looked at Ludo and myself then again at Ludo. "You keep her safe you hear me, whatever happens she is to remain untouched. I cannot stress this point enough."

"Lying, cheating and Under Fae I maybe, but I will do my best Sir." Ludo puffed his chest out; not a good look in a hospital issue dust coat, but stood in the shadows as he was he almost looked handsome (If I was a female bear looking for a flea ridden and balding mate).

Xanthic left; he rushed to the door but did offer warning again about being safe but covering as much ground as possible. He told us both to guard the blade, it was and will be invaluable in our duties ( I felt with the rush I had escaped a dressing down from Xanthic for losing it in the first place.) Before he left he paused two beds down and he whispered something into the ear of BQ who looked as if something he had long suspected had just been confirmed.

"Bloody nurses." Hissed BQ, "I knew they were favouring the BUPA patients. Wait until one of them comes in to change this bandage, I'll give 'em what for" Gesturing as best he could with fingers poking though his dressings.

I dressed, pulling the privacy curtain around my bed, into something more suitable for wandering corridors (and something less drafty in the rear in-case of quick exits), made sure I had the blade in my bag and shoulder to shoulder with Ludo we stepped out of the hospital ward to search for danger of demonic kind and leaving conversations between BQ and The Gent about informing the Daily Mail about the mistreatment of the honest working class in favour of workshy bankers and C list celebrities. ( I think we were getting off lightly.)

I'm not a trained investigator so the thought of going out to look for a killer (one who had already had a stab at killing me - literally and physically) in a building that was almost the size and population of a small city filled me with dread, especially without my employer - and guide since I discovered my raw talent as a witch and the otherworldly inhabitants of my world, our world that we all live alongside whether we like it or not; and especially as I  also had a tag along that works here, taking the pain of others for his (its?) nourishment and in daylight appears to be a rotten corpse and (probably worse) in shade looks like a wide mountain man that hasn't seen a razor in about as long as he last saw a bath full of water.

Ludo gave me the facts on the hospital. Originally built in the 50's with a almost total refurbishment in 2012; several new buildings and extension throughout the life of the building and service areas that the public can't go. Six stories above ground, two partial ones below plus a seperate morgue and incinerator complex.  Thirty eight wards with waiting rooms, X ray and surgical suites throughout and not to mention a small shopping centre.

Working logically we needed to scale down the foot falls to cover the greatest area in a targeted way.

"Ok." I said. "If I were hunting 'Something' that is killing here." I waved my arms around to emphasis the whole building. "I would start in the morgue where all the dead bodies are." I felt proud for this piece of thinking.

"Possible." Replied Ludo, his face betraying a 'BUT' hanging after that word left unsaid.

"But......" I injected.

"Any Under Fae or Extraxi won't be caught dead in a morgue. We feed off life and have as much negative associations with the dead as humans do. No, unless we are dealing with a Demon who revels in decay and rot, then we need to head where the life is strongest."

"So we can rule out the wrinkly wards too."

"I would, for now. There maybe a lot of death there and probably the easiest to cover tracks on but it'll be like eating a biscuit when there is a gluttony of feasts elsewhere. No, if I were looking for fast easy prey to regenerate my strength I would want a constant supply of succour and a death rate that wouldn't draw too much attention. A strong life / high death ratio if you will."

"Surely there isn't that many places here for that?" I asked. "You work here, ruling out the morgue and those waiting for it, run of the mill stuff like operations and accident and emergency; where else is there?"

"Hold on. I think you may have something. We don't know what the food supply is, its not blood. If a vampire was here I would know about it, Hell you all would know it, there's a reason why everyone know they exist and the rest of us slip away into the murk."

Ludo went on to explain Extraxi could feed upon many things coming from the 'warms'. Pain and suffering being the most fulfilling but other Extraxi have evolved for different diets such as fear, sadness and grief (some even cause the grief by hurting or killing an individual and then feed off the loved ones), panic, some even feed off positive emotions and generate enormous well being in people then syphon it off.  Some at the top of the Extraxi evolutionary chain can feed off all emotions and latch onto an individual and generate crushing lows followed by nirvana like states of extacy within them just for dine upon.

"So accident and emergency would be ideal, so much life force generated post injury to recover and then with the ever present deaths from the serious cases; I think it would be the best place to start. That and they are usually so busy they wouldn't notice a few extra people hanging around for a time."

It was late afternoon, very late. So I asked Ludo to lead the way to A&E. Partially this was because he worked here and knew the way, but there was a bit part of me that didn't want a soulless feeder that preys on my kin standing behind me where I couldn't see him.

This plan was soon changed when Ludo whipped out a wheel chair and asked me to get in

"It'll look less suspicious if an orderly pushes you around the corridors." He said.

Hospitals are busy places, hustle and bustle of nurses, cleaners, doctors, patients and kith and kin - like any moderately busy town centre; but if the general hospital was busy then A&E was like an international airport at Christmas. The waiting room was bigger the my flat in its entirety and filled to the rafters with all manner of people coughing, bleeding, sleeping, talking and on occasion, singing. It looked old and tired, the walls, decoration and most of the uniformed staff too.

"Where do we start?" I asked looking around at the room. The task made worse by a multitude of corridors, cubicles, rest rooms, side rooms and more corridors.

"I can't tell if there are any of my kind about, too much pollution from the humans, but if I were to get closer then it'll be easier to tell. Not only will they stand out to me but hopefully they'll recognise you and run...........or try to finish what they started."

I didn't like the way Ludo smiled at this last statement.

"We'll stay away from well lit or public areas, my kind do not look our best in light and they wouldn't want to be face to face with a mob the size of this and trust me, one look into the eyes of my kind on a feeding hunt will turn all of these people into a mob, its built inyo you all on a primal level; you'll be surprised how quickly you can find a bushel of burning torches and a pile of pitchforks." Ludo looked around checking a huge mob hadn't snuck up behind him.  

"Xanthic said this thing is new here, so I doubt it'll be a member of staff, ok? So would you recognise someone pretending to work here or hang around?" I mused aloud. "How long can someone be here in A&E before you're kicked out? Do they still have visiting hours? can a relative or something hang around all hours?"

"Um, not sure, possibly, don't know." Answered Ludo, "But I do know with all the checks, background and work history that it'll be almost impossible to trick a job here, and with the teams we work in an imposter will stand out really quick."

Ludo stood tall on his heels, breathed in far too deeply for anyone pretending to be human and swept his gaze around then bent low to speak into my ear.

"Night is drawing close, I can feel it. So lets just go, we can plan and think but I always trust in luck, random and chaotic so it is but its going to be the best we can hope for so hold on tight and think lucky."

We swept through the main room, a few eyebrows were raised but the battle hardened staff had witnessed much more anarchic behaviour and a tut from a nurse was all the comment we heard about an orderly racing a wheelchair bound patient through the corridors.

We managed to cover most of the area this way, only a meal trolley and a hard working kitchen had slowed us down but Ludo for a large 'man' was very spry and escorted myself in that chair out of a serious risk of being scalded (ok 'warmed') by trays of food.

*

There is a doctor patient confidentiality thingy which means information cannot be passed by any route from consultation room to ....... well here.....but as I was neither a doctor nor a patient then I guess that doesn't count.

We had a routine of a quick knock on a door, open it look at the person/people within, mutter an apology and close the door before moving onto the next. An orderly and patient can get away with this if quick enough. What we saw was an education for me and (in Ludo's words after) a mouth watering feast he could not touch.

There was a young man, head down, arse very much in the air with a doctor stitching a wound (caused by sitting on a bottle for a bet).

"I couldn't see his face." I said

"But our Extraxi wouldn't be here for that, and the doctor was human. Very sweet pain in there, do I have time for a quick sip? It'll be better for him than any local anaesthetic."

My look told him very quickly there wasn't and we moved onto the next door.

A woman, naked to the waist and laying on the bed was being looked over by a nurse; on her back a very large and very enflamed tattoo. Blood was seeping from the swellings and her blonde hair matted with sweat and stuck into scabs and congealed fluids.

From the tears of the patient and the stifled laughter of the nurse as she sterile wiped and cleaned, we both came to the conclusion this was not our goal. Neither noticed or cared about our intrusion or exit.

"Did you see that picture?" I asked as the door slowly closed on its spring.

"Two fat ladies riding on tiny mopeds?!" You humans are crazy." Said Ludo laughing with a tear in his eye. In this darkened light they glinted blue and shone with an inner nobility. Its a pity I had seen them red and flushed with diseased secretions pooling in the corners earlier as he loomed over me or I might have begun to like him.

The next couple of consultation rooms had people receiving stitches and/or injections. None jumped out at us (figuratively or actually speaking) and we moved on.

Next was a mini waiting room filled with people on chairs or like me in a wheelchair, most were holding themselves and guarding a personal pain.

"Next up X-Ray, always busy in A&E." Said Ludo, "We won't get into those rooms so easily but we can try."

I was wheeled around the corner and we saw a man, twenty something and in tatty jeans, shaven head, sleeveless tee shirt a very red grazes running up his arms from his wrists to his shoulders. He was more noticeable for his laying on the floor and hanging on for dear life.

"Someone help me" (or words to that effect once extracted of expletives and translated into English from 'street') The voice was loud but broken and whiny like my little niece when she don't get her way. Oh and very very drunk.

"Oh please help me rapidly, I seem to be about to fall off the floor." Again, I translate into words my Mother would be happy to read here. I'm not sure what a Fur King is, but he seemed very keen on calling it every other word.

"He's obviously had a small half a shandy too many." I commented from the side of my mouth quietly. Ludo, his mouth at my ear spoke in a rich tone I had not heard from him before. I felt myself leaning in towards his voice it was so smooth.

"Did you know you humans spend more than half your lives blind?"

I shook my head and felt his bead against my cheek - funny but it felt as soft as puppy fur.

"Your eyes act like cameras, taking still pictures and sending them to your brain. Your brain tries to make sense of what it sees and it judges movement, changes and other things by comparing it to the last picture sent. Brilliant if your brain wanted to keep check on that funny mound in the long grass 1,000,000 million years ago and watch as it slowly gets closer and what are those big white teeth like things; then wow, it looks very dark in here."

He continued. "Well, you are blind for all the gaps in-between the stills; anything from half to two thirds of your waking life. In the blind times the muscles around your eyes move, but the brain is clever enough to move the picture around and keep things central - like a really clever steady cam. But! " This word was said with a flourish and his tempo of conversation increased as he was obviously enjoying himself.

"But, alcohol is just basically sugar right, and such a refined fuel supply for your body that it kicks up a notch; same thing if you give a kid fizzy drink and chocolate; and the eyes start working faster, the gaps get shorter and the brain has to process the information much faster and it starts to skip, so the auto focus that makes the world go steady tells you what you actually see not what you think you see, which is the world bobbing around and you all end up grabbing the bed, lamp post or any convenient friend or stranger.  Fascinatingly though, I get recognised a lot more around club kicking out time even in darkest Winter. Must be the brain not having time to filter out all the superfluous, weird or confusing information and telling you how it is."

"So drunk people see more demons than sober ones?" I asked but believing the theory behind it (I've seen some weird shit when drunk but put it down to a bad glass of lambrisco).

"There is obviously no medical research into this mind you, but toddlers do look at me funny and any drunk trying to mug me as he staggers home soon runs a mile."

I looked at him and the magic I was feeling over his honeyed voice and soft facial hair was instantly back to nought. It wasn't well lit here so he looked human but I would give him a 4, 4.5 at best (I've dated worse, but only with the assistance of.......alcohol).

"Where can we get enough alcohol to get truly plastered?" I asked with a glint of an idea forming.

"There's gallons of the stuff in the staff rooms, but medicinal alcohol might be quicker and healthier for you.......ish." Came the reply, he was obviously thinking the same way as I as he was now starting to manoeuvre my chair around to head back the way we came.

The average NHS wheelchair can pick up a fair pace when needed, and I have to admit I was enjoying the ride, it was fun and there was alcohol to come in the very near future (and if I didn't look directly at him, very pleasant company to boot). I had almost forgotten the inhuman animal that was at work hunting its prey in our midst until we got back to Ludo's territorial corridors where he plied his trade and an alarm sounded followed by a London marathon level of runners streaming towards the children's ward.

"We've got two of the kids with fever crashing." Called a nurse to her colleagues as they ran past us. "We could lose both of them." They were gone, we were left standing in the corridor. We needed to find strong alcohol - and we needed to find it NOW!.

*

It was hot and stale, the air still and the only movement was the sweat starting to roll down my back. I tried to move my head, to look around at where I found myself but it was impossible; my arms and legs would not move to my orders but I did not start to panic, instead a clam had come over me the same as when a young child is collected into its mothers welcoming arms and carried above all its problems back to the safety of its home, no control over its own movements but safe in the knowledge that it is protected and cared for.

From my eyes I could see a countryside worsened by too much sun and little rain. The grass, uncut and brown, did not wave as there was no wind, no breeze at all to disturb it or the dust road that cut through the grass leading to .......... here. I was bent over, arms folded on an ancient and cracked post and rail wooden fence whose colour, once dark and rich now grey and broken with deep gouges and cracks running between the grain. It was twisted and rickety but strong enough to act as a guide to where the dust road ended and the baked earth and grass began and to hold my weight as I casualty laid my weight upon it.

The sun was low, setting I would guess from the heat of the day, and shadows ran the full length they were allowed. There must have been a tree behind me judging from the shadow that lay to my side and stretched out merging with my own. The tree was dead, or leaf less, long branches with hundreds of off shoots stretching out like fingers reaching for the sky. My shadow was long and thin, different to my own and now I am not sure where I am or what I can see - still no panic, just the knowledge I am not where I once was, not who I once was.

I cannot hear, nor smell, only see. I am behind someone else's eyes looking across a ruined meadow, standing on a small mound, on a bridge of mud and stone which lay over a dried up stream small enough to step over and only noticeable by the line it cut in the sloping ground around it and by its lack of brown grass which was dominant everywhere else.

Here, in this dry scene, a tree, a stream, the grass and me, I was completely alone. There were no birds in the sand coloured sky, there were no animals on the ground, no rodents, no cattle, no insects within the grass. There was one fly, a large black thing making a haphazard route along the rough cut bed of the stream, following it but not crossing it. It flew in my peripheral vision until it was out of sight. It had made no noise; either it was silent or there was no sound here to carry to the ears this body must have had.

The fly had gone.

A shadow appeared to my left, it moved slowly across the grass until it reached the height and shape of my own; another person I guessed. it sagged, leaning on the railing just as I. It was now motionless, soundless. My guests body did not move to observe this new comer, nor did it move its mouth or tongue to vocalise the recognition of its presence.

We were just there, two people on the same dust road, in the same countryside and on the same squat bridge. I was on my side of the waterless stream and they were on the other.

We stayed that way for hours, neither moving or speaking. The heat was almost unbearable, but neither moved to seek shade. Then, slowly, ever so slowly like the rotation on a planet and without any alteration in our bodies or the heat, it went dark.

*

Sometime later that day or possible sometime else.

I was drunk. I freely admit that, in fact it would be hard to deny judging from the reports I received later (although looking through my pockets recently I found a grainy photocopied image of 'anatomy' and a Doctor's phone number written in biro along it).

Ludo had sourced a plentiful supply of both medical and commercially sold (or judging from the misspelled labels, brewed in a bath) alcohol. He opened bottles, sniffed content and mixed several together by pouring them into a glass scientific jar I wanted to call a test tube or beaker but it was flat bottomed and swept up to a tube and spout (if you know what this is answers on a postcard) creating a disgusting washed out brown concoction only the truly desperate, alcoholic or average sports Uni student would consider imbibing. Deplorably, I now have to count myself amongst that list.

It tasted of burning. That is all I can tell you and that is more than I wish to remember but it did have the desired effect and quickly too.

"Drink more." Said Ludo, pouring another batch of liquid brown fire.

"NoooooooOOOOoooOOooo." I giggled, I'll be sick. "Lets go now look for bad things." (OK I never said this out loud, it was what I wanted to express but instead it came out as a 'less goo, lok fr baaad fins.' Luckily Ludo spoke hopeless drunk human and only gave me one more drink.

It burned. My eyes rolled. It went dark. When the light slowly returned I had to blink my eyes because it looked like I was standing in a scorched dry meadow. Then the real world fizzled into view like a reflection in a pond full of busy fish, swirling and rippling in and out of focus until it snapped back and then it really hit me. My head swam, and for once I was thankful for the wheelchair, or I would have been if I could workout why I was moving and not moving my legs. To even it up I did try to walk and I thought I was doing a good job of it as I seemed to be heading straight down the corridors even when I wasn't looking; Oh how our proudest moments can turn into our secret shames.

I knew the plan, to look at people, identify anything 'different' or strange although I also thought It would be a good idea to chat up any good looking young people out there and find a kebab.

"Keep what's left of your mind on our goal." Hissed Ludo into my ear after he pulled me gently but firmly back into our appropriated wheelchair. "We have limited time and a lot of space in which to cover."

Our path through the hospital was more indirect but with more pace. As the corridors tipped from side to side I saw people, briefly but I saw them clear. Their faces in pain and discomfort, boredom and waiting, concern and contempt but faces of men, women and children all in a place they did not want to be. Others were here, around everyone and diligent in their activities, hair as golden as the first ray of light on the longest day - this is confusing to me as I could clearly see their hair was black or blonde and every shade in-between, but at that time it was golden and radiant. They looked at me with a smile and they were beautiful. One in a room would fill it with light and warmth and I felt safe; but most of all I could hear strings, from what instrument I do not know even now but I hazard a guess at a family of large violins or something similar playing chords rising and falling like heartbeats, regular and necessary to sustain life.   In the real world Ludo said he could see patients and nurses in the rooms all busy been looked at or doing the looking.

The next room was cold, devoid of sound, all except the thumping of anxious feet on the floor, shouts from fellow drunks and the bellowing of communications -but compared to the last room it was silent and dark.

Ludo told me after I explained to him what I had seen that Angels have been living amongst us for as long as we have been around - longer. They love being near us and over time Angels (who are ageless) begat angels who still loved us and cared for us and were mortal like us; mixed DNA  - or DNAxtream. So its only natural that those of us who are angelic, even very removed from the originators of their gifts, care for us still or are drawn to professions where they help. The same can be said for Demons. Those above us only know what led 'them' to mix their seed with us, but over the decades, centuries, Demons became demons became thieves, muggers and .........you'll be surprised how many bankers too, it'll be easy to say anyone who likes hurting others for the fun of it or anyone who upholds petty rules for their own pleasure and dominance are demonkin; but sadly, according to Ludo, don't under estimate the darker side of basic human nature.

*



Monday, early - VERY early.

My head hurt like Hell, its neighbours and their allotments too. I was once told to never mix drinks as it leads to hangovers. That's based on grape and grain not playing nicely with each other. What you get from mixing medical grade alcohol with bargain basement off licence vodka and whiskey distilled in a tin bath is a coupling that seem fine when they first meet but they do not act like adults when they wake up in the morning and realise what they had done.

What made it worse was we had total failed. Of a demonic presence there was nothing out of the ordinary to be found. A&E was full of pain and misery, human and as close to human they would never know they had anything else in their ancestry; Oh and a couple of minor Fae who had managed to padlock themselves together and were suitably embarrassed to not be suspects.

"This isn't working." I stated with as much warmth as a frozen fish finger. "Just get me somewhere quiet as these f'ing angels are really screwing with my head."

Ludo had the good grace not to speak, but from behind me I could hear the huge sniggering grin spread across his face by the rifts of his own universal tones. We went somewhere, I cannot remember the path I rode nor the faces I saw, they were all of little consequence. The pain in my head was worsening but matched by the pain in my heart for all the lost souls I cannot save for my lack of progress. More lives will be lost because of me and my failings and although the thumping agony between my temples makes all my thoughts retreat before they could be born into mind but with everything I am I could not shift that one thought from before my eyes.

"We have lost." I cried and Ludo replied with words I cannot remember or repeat but they offered no condolence or solution. I beat the arms of the chair and instantly regretted it so I cried tears as large as raindrops in a thunder storm.

Ludo pushed me past a familiar corridor full of cartoons and imagery on every wall. They danced out at me and I pushed back into my chair, they were horrors to behold and fell upon me from the walls. I shielded my eyes and dared to peer through my folded arms that crossed my face and they were back on the walls once more full of smiles and wide eyed purity.

There were grieving relatives and Doctors and nurses all hushed and British within the ward; other children were sleeping as best they can.

The music picked up and I banded my head with my hands to silence it; How could angelic beings that care for us drive such noise around them. Ludo pushed me faster past an almost empty waiting room and thumbed a code into a door set into the side. He was home and I was back to where Xanthic had rescued me only hours before.

"I can clean it a little......" Began Ludo.

"Just get out!" I screamed in pain. "I don't care I just need silence for five minutes to get my head sorted. I need to be in peace." A migraine not exaggerated by light but by noise had gripped me and in this small room Ludo's background aura must have increased because the his now familiar deep bass was now sounding something akin to the Death Metal an ex boyfriend used to listen to in his car when he picked me up and actually thought it would turn me on as he drove.

Ludo hovered half in and out the door, hiding his bulk behind it for safety. "Is there anything I can do? Aspirin or anything?" He asked.

I pulled a smile with all my strength and said yes I would like that and uttered a very basic apology.

Ludo mirrored my smile and pushed the door open feeling safer again. Behind him in the corridor was a single figure hands over her face and crying quietly in the waiting room; poor woman, I could empathise with her pain.

"Just the aspirin." I said again as a prompt to entice him to leave. "And turn that bloody screaming music OFF!" I yelled as it raised its volume way past 10 to brain splitting levels. My eyes scrunched up as acidic tears filled my eyes and a blinding flash of pain hit me. I opened them to see if he was going; he was stood there in indecision whether to come to my aid or leave me in peace and I saw clearly the grieving mother drop her hands to her side, in a heart beat she was out of her chair, face contorted into anger and evil, eyes as red as fresh blood and boiling with rage, nose hooked and boned and teeth rotten and blackened. There was only a few strides between us which were covered in two strides. With strength not obvious by her size she swept Ludo off his feet and bodily threw him down the corridor where he hit hard and loud into the double ward doors. The hag thing was inside the room, fingers reaching and now touching my throat, the Death Metal screamed at me as I felt her breath on my skin. The music ceased, the wretched figure pulled back and with a metallic scream of electric guitar she shot forward her mouth wider than humanly possible; then I felt her teeth break my skin.

*



Monday....small hours of this morning.

The 'thing' was on me, arms like iron stanchions supporting a desiccated husk of a body, unmoving and stead fast; try as I might I could not move them, bend them or free myself from their grasp. I felt sick to my stomach, there was blood flowing warm and fast from my body and down my chest and arms dropping in thick splats to the floor. My heart was thumping hard within my chest as I tried to scream and thrash around, anything to give me leverage to get this beast off of me.

I could taste blood in my mouth and I now kicked out under the monster and used my nails to rake at its face then with handfuls of lank greasy strands of stinking hair I pulled trying to retract the head from my neck. I got a thumb to its left eye and pushed as if my life depended on it (!). The beast relented and raised its head, blood, MY blood dripping from its lips and tears of my flesh between its decayed teeth,

"Does the pretty want to play?" It squealed tilting its head to the side to better look at the horror on my face. "I haven't been hiding from you little human hunter. Look at you so small but so sweet. I taste you on in my mind and on my tongue.  I lick your juices, mmmmmmm" It purred.

It smiled with cracked grey lips and a rasp like laugh gurgled within its gnarled throat.

I could not reply as my own throat was thick and unresponsive. I shook my head as that was all I could do. I prayed (if that's the correct wordage to use in this situation) for Ludo to come and save me - I'm sure he would have seen the irony if I could live to tell him. I thought my heart was going to rip free as it pumped harder and faster than ever before. Colour started to drain from my vision and in my panic I could swear it was floating away from me and to the hag thing that was laughing over me. I could see the sagging mottled skin on its face tighten and smooth out. Its lank grey hair filled out and a deep shine slipped from roots down to tip. The hag was no more and turning into a young woman before my eyes. It had my beauty, my youth.

The colour was almost all gone, I was close to passing out, I knew it as all the pain was gone and my head was heavy and sleep was waiting all around to flood into me. My hands started to shake, as did my body, a last natural reflex to escape an imminent expiry. A flash of white light flew past my vision and a pin prick of pain spasmed through my right arm like an electric shock. Fingers cold and unfeeling wrapped around a shaft and I remembered the knife I had within my bag at my side. I struggled to free it and brought it out. I did not have the strength to deliver a killing blow nor did I have the manoeuvrability to inflict any real damage to my foe. I just hoped Ludo, Xanthic or any sympathetic soul would see it and assist where I could not.

With the colour finally fading from my sight, and the rest of my vision reducing to a pin prick like an old black and white TV set being turned off I convulsed one last time before total darkness enveloped me.

*

I did not wake up; but at some point I regained awareness.

When I did I screamed or at least tried too. I could not draw breath, the air was hot, used and weak like drawing in air from an extraction system exhaust.

I was trapped, penned in like a lamb surrounded by a flock of sheep; confined by sheer numbers and forced to move in the overall direction of the crowd. It was like Boxing day sales in London, hundreds of people crushing into every shop in search of illusive bargains instantly evaporating into other shoppers' arms. My chest was pushed hard against the man in front and equally my back had the pressure from the person behind. My sides were shoulder to shoulder with the men and women all silently shuffling in an uncoordinated but general direction. The stink was fantastic! A mixture of body odour, dirt, excrement, ammonia and rotten eggs, wet dog and blood. No comfort from the heat nor from the constant tide of movement.

I tried to focus on where I was; something Xanthic taught me. If you know where you are, then you can workout where you need to be.

Ok, calm down and draw a deep breath. It was hard to breath and although there were strong light everywhere, all I could see was the deepest shadow; everyone was in blackness and although inches in front of me I could make out no features on anyone; like walkers on a beach on a bright sunset, they were visible to me only in darkness, each figure robbing from me the light I craved to see.

The roof was only a pens width above my head, it was rough stone inexpertly hewn and as I was pushed at an ever moving shuffling pace in a general forward direction I caught my head on rutting rock and bumps in the ceiling. The floor was its match. I could not look down. My arms were pinned to my side by the weight of on pressing bodies and I could not make space to look down at my feet; but I could feel the undulating rise and fall. with the hidden ankle busting pot holes and trips waiting unseen everywhere.

It was hot, unbearably so, no breeze could survive here. I just wanted to fill my lungs with cool air and breathe.

Why was I here? Where was I going? I couldn't tiptoe to get a view over the heads of the crowd and my view was nothing but shadowed heads and where there was a gap, a bright shine giving nothing.

I wanted to turn around, to make some space - I NEEDED to make some space and just think. My mind was racing and I wanted to rest. I couldn't sit down, couldn't stop, couldn't think.

A waved pushed forward, I was bumped from behind and fell against the man in front. I skipped to keep my feet moving and a shallow trench caught my toe and propelled me forward so my chin hit the guys back. He showed no sign of feeling it but continued the motion forward. Ripples of the wave moved through the immediate area and I was pushed to left. I was now off my footing, still wedged upright by the claustrophobic enduing closeness. I was being dragged by the crowd, they were treading on my feet which were trailing behind me, I was being pulled down, I tried to raise my arms to hold onto the people around me and pull myself back up but they were stuck uselessly at my side. When my bent knees hit the floor I was struck by pain but forced to continue the slow march. Terror was filling me, I knew with clear knowledge that I was going down and I was going to be trampled by the unrelenting masses. I cried out for help but my voice did not carry, no one behind or to my side acknowledged my distress, each stumbling themselves and staggering ever forward.

Another wave hit me and I was on the rock floor, face against the ground, feet stepping on me, others falling over me, a weight building up on me....................

The weight eased. I got to my knees and a hand reached under my arm and a strength raised me to my feet. Behind me was Xanthic, dressed in his long iridescent black coat and although he is easily a head taller than me, he effortlessly stood straight without compromise under the low ceiling. He stood like a rock in a river, a V shaped wake splitting either side of him, everyone un-acknowledging giving him room before remerging around us after a short distance.

"Its not your time yet." He said to me, look straight at me. I thought I could see his eyes strong and bright behind his smoke mirrored glasses.

He offered his hand and I took it, the crowd rushed past at motorway speed, not running but in the same steady onward inch footfalls but at an incredible pace; that or time for us had slowed to a near stop whilst everything carried on around. A corridor of emptiness seamlessly developed leading away from us and Xanthic led me along it holding my hand. A bell tolled and a deep darkness enveloped us.

*

Monday - just Monday

I was back in my hospital bed. New bandages adorned my body alongside the old, although they were soiled and showing red in places; and it would be easier and quicker to list the places I did not hurt (or at least could not feel anything at this time).

Xanthic was sat in the chair beside me. I would love to describe the look of concern on his face and how his attire was crumpled and creased from being bent over my bedside for hours; But this would be fiction as he was lounging in the hard leather bedside chair holding court in front of several rapt nurses and patients all listening to his humorous stories of historic and famous people he claims to have met (he probably had for all I know, he is a terrible name dropper and boasts sometimes). I was pleased to see to my side BQ looking sulky by not having a story to top the epics being spoken by a very bright and enthusiastic Xanthic. When he is like this; the focal point in a busy room and holding all the reins of the conversation close and controlled, he glows from within, looks bigger and more unique than ever. Its magic, even with my limited knowledge and experience in the field I can spot that; I think they call it a glamour. But, oh my, he did look handsome and commanding even if he was dressed as a Goth - a very wealthy goth with all the latest and most formal of fashions, a well styled and almost normal goth but highly gothic all the same.  Not that I have anything about Goths, I was one, but my tastes go towards Metal these days.

He noticed I was awake and after finishing his tale too much humour and laughing from the nurses, he leaned in, cuddled them all and off they went about a nurse's daily routines - I wasn't jealous or anything but I really hoped it involved large puddles of sick or someone in desperate need of disimpacking!

"What happened?" I asked with a croaking voice and a throat as dry as camel's big toe after it crossed the desert on the hottest day. It felt like I had eaten a sandpaper sandwich! "Where were we........"

Xanthic interrupted me with a wave of his hand and a shake of his head. "Not here, " He started, but I gave him a look even a police riot shield wouldn't deflect. He sat on the side of my bed, then as he didn't have much space he bumped up and down which sent a sympathetic bump along the bed; as I was momentarily lifted a mere fraction off the sheet he bumped sideways and moved me over. He sat down with a smile. I grimaced in indignity and pain. He didn't notice, or gave no signs of noticing.

"I arrived later than I wished but earlier than I expected from something we both need to look into as soon as you've finished your laying down and get back to work.

I half assumed finding you would be difficult but it was a lot easier than I imagined, I just needed to follow the screaming."

"Ludo? is he....." I started

"He's fine, back at work. He comes from hardy stock and a few bumps here and there are occupational hazards. He told me all about your adventures and what attacked you."

"What was it?"

"I am unsure, exactly, but it is of Extraxi decent and a Vor of some kind. It attacked you physically, nothing odd there for a wounded or juvenile animal, but it didn't try to feed off your essence but it did consume your blood."

"A vampire?" I enquired, as all my childhood reading centred on the pale ones who supped from the well of human waters.


I felt 'the Grey' descending over us, Xanthic had something to say and he wanted to keep it private.

"No, most definitely not. For a start they are far more feral than Hollywood would allow you to believe, not so much opera cloak and soft voice as matador cape and sword. No, We would all know if one of those was at work here, the stink would be unmistakable. But it was something that could take on human fluids and use them for its own nourishment; and believe me there are not many that would do that.

Oh Demons and even demons will render flesh with their teeth and consume meat, but they would rather revel in your torment and dine on your pain. Fae may ritualistically draw blood and humans too for that matter, but they do it for significance or power. This thing seemed to want to drink you this time, but before, and I am certain it was the same one as before, wanted to steal your life's essence for its own rejuvenation."

"Maybe it wanted to simply kill me as it didn't have much time." It was hard to talk, the thought of that thing at my throat subconsciously closed it tight and I knew I was wheezing as I took in air.

"It would have done so, easily done so if it wanted to. It wanted you dead sure enough and it knew how it was going to do it. I need to find this thing and find out why."

"Don't you mean find this thing and kill it for hurting me?" Indignity raised my octave to a shrill.

"Eventually. But my curiosity must be quenched first. It may lead to an identification of a new Fae or demon/Fae halfcast, or something far more interesting!" He actually sounded pleased by this.

I brought the conversation back to what had happened and why I was here talking to him - don't get me wrong, I'm very grateful I am here, but confused all the same.

I had to insist when Xanthic tried to turn me away from my line of enquiry, eventually he relented and the story unfolded.

By the time Xanthic arrived and swept to the front of an excited crowd of medical professionals I had bled a dangerous amount of blood. Through guidance (and shouting loudest) he made sure they had given me the correct measures to stabilise and promote recovery within my body (apparently it was harder than just pumping more blood into me, which was my guess). Of my attacker there was no sign; but on the plus side, there was no sign anywhere in the hospital (so all ye little children sleep well) my skilled and noble wielding of my weapon (or a spasmaming lucky thrust with an old WWII bayonet) had wounded the beast, through magical influence more than physical injury and with a scream that brought half the hospital staff and Xanthic running, the beast fled. A quick chase through the hospital with the sensitive eyes of a demon like Xanthic, showed it had exited the building by a set of service doors and the trail of invisible fluids continued past the waste disposal area and into side streets and away.

"I doubt it will be back, its feeding ground has been disturbed and it knows its defended. It will go somewhere else, somewhere with easier prey but we will be chasing it down once we narrow down the possible locations. It has no den and no aid, so it will be dangerous but desperate enough to make mistakes and we'll get it." Xanthic stood from the bed and held his hand out palm up - he wanted something.
  "Can I have the blade back now please?" He smiled at me. I looked down at my right hand, it was gripping the bayonet so tight my fingers were white, veins showing the blood flowing through them and muscles standing proud the length of my arm. An attempt to loosen my grip failed, I had no muscle control nor feeling in my hand and I even vocalised my desire to open my fingers.

 "Bloody open will you." I called then sheepishly retracted into myself as the roomful of people looked over at the mad woman talking to her hand even through the grey.

Xanthic took my hand and prised (with some difficulty) my fingers away from the bayonet. Once again in his hands it looked like a curved knife (with dried blood marks) and within a second it was gone, disappeared within the inner fabric (how many pockets can he have there? - they certainly don't bulge or show from the outside).

"I'll leave you to rest now. Not all the rejuvenations used on you were purely medical in nature and they need you to sleep to be most effective."

I put my hand on his, partially to show my thanks but mostly to encourage him to stay.

"I need to chase this thing down and close as much distance on it as possible. You'll be safe now and Ludo will keep an eye on you."

He stepped away, stopping momentarily between the double ward doors. He did not turn back to see me - or he would have seen how scared I was at his leaving - He paused then with grace and energy exited my little world. I wiggled down on my bed to lay still and counted my pains. My neck let me know it was obviously the most in need of tender care, my old wounds told me softly they were still there but a new and unexpected pain on my chest sang in the medley of nerve responses. I lifted my hospital gown and bra cup and saw a fresh bandage dressing held down with off white tape. I peeled it back and fumed, my bottom lip pulled up tight to its upper twin. On my left breast, on the gentle slope of its right side which slipped down to my cleavage and just above my nipple was a black double circular thin line which contained runic symbols running around the circumference with a triangle pointing down touching at three points the writing and an eye with a tail in its centre.

Bloody Xanthic, I thought. Did he biro a bloody demonic symbol onto my breast while I was unconscious? Did he do it in front of all these Doctors or more publicly? My reserved modesty was short lived when I spat on a tissue from a box on a small NHS bedside cabinet and attempted to wipe it off and it came back with traces of red and not black. Puzzled I tried again and sat up in my bed. A Tattoo, a bloody (and very permanent) tattoo! I don't swear much as a rule but I did now, enough to draw two nurses into the room.

After an improvised explanation of my distress (something about a pain in the neck causing me concern - I didn't say it was Xanthic who was the pain concerning me!) the nurses left with looks of annoyance over being disturbed and I thumped the side of my bed cursing my employer (oh I do hope it was him and not Ludo who marked me) and promising the universe a revenge for it.

It didn't take me long to calm down. I assume Xanthic had the best of reasons to do it and there was a nicely warming pulse coming from it over my heart; but then again I once saw him late on a Friday night outside the clubs in Gunwarf Quays and helped a young man declare his love for his best friends by permanently etching their names onto his skin. I was less than impressed by his gleeful expression as he climbed upon the boys shoulders, whipped out a tattoo machine and proceeded to list in alphabetical order their names on his forehead.

Meanwhile, a new dorm mate had been delivered into our happy home, a middle aged man who'd spent that last couple of days in the high care ward and now recovered enough to be put in with all us mildly injured people. BQ had taken up the chance to gain his story without actually letting him speak, and, if not careful, he may find he does the opposite of our new friend and end up going from the mild to major ward until they can retrieve his teeth from his stomach and my fist from his mouth. I have had enough this weekend and my God its Monday and I hate Mondays!

"Oh my, Mr Dewy." Piped the Gent. "Whatever brings you in here with us?"

The newly identified Mr Dewy brightened with the recognition of a friend.

"I should ask why you are here." He said with the same polite tone of neighbours who usually only orate greetings and mild comments of the weather during brief meetings.

"I am afraid to say it was your Lady wife who seemed to have become enraged and attacked me at the polling station on Thursday. I quite thought she was going to register her vote by stamping it on my head and posting it through the ballot box. Luckily my ears got stuck in the slot." He gave a small smile at his own joke.

"I was similarly attacked by my good woman in the Rose and Crown where she found me teaching the new barmaid to play darts."

I surmise the greater part of the conversation (and changed the language to suit a younger audience who may read this) as I do not remember it all; but after a great deal of questioning and extraction of information by BQ and other interested parties it appears Mr Dewy had been booked on a sales conference in Milton Keynes in the eyes of his wife, but was in actual fact on a darts trip with the lads from the pub after he expressly agreed with her that he should give up drinking and darts and his 'friends' in favour of gardening and driving her to her sisters to play bridge. It didn't help much that when caught on Thursday in the closed bar, Mr Dewy with the landlord's younger sister (the barmaid in question) were dressed in quite a state of undress on the occy. BQ asked if he managed to score a double top followed by a bull's-eye.

 

*

Tuesday 11:28

Ludo visited me this morning, be brought grapes and assorted fruit in a bag. He arrived covered up in his orderly coat and a large peak baseball cap, much larger than even the most 'street' kids have been wearing. He told me it was better for covering him up in the sunlight and not scaring the old people it was his turn to wheel around from ward to ward or the toilet and back.

He sat with me during his break and told me Xanthic had been seen out last night by friends of his (he never said if they were human friends or otherwise) but he looked like he was having fun, or at least running to, after or from something. So I guess he's keeping fit if nothing else. Ludo also said there had been a dramatic increase in the well being of all the young patients on the children’s ward. Some making so surprising a recovery the Doctors were considering sending them home in the next few days. So even if I was still bandaged up like an accident prone mummy and also bit the big one, we did some good here.



Tuesday 23:28

I have just woken from a dream. I was back in the expansive but squat rock cavern, it was hot and confining like before, but this time the people destined to wander within it were giving me more space like they didn't want to be near me.  I could see walls of people spreading for miles in every direction and all staggering in the same overall direction. Where their path led I could not see, the ceiling just millimetres above my head reducing my spans of sight to near nothing at the same time I knew it stretched on for ever.

I could not talk, this fact was so obvious that I did not try, I was in a dream and not really there and from my point of view I was floating just behind my own shoulders. I couldn't see the back of my head but part of me thought I could if I were brave enough to try. I was out of my body and I was staying as close to it as I possibly could.

The heat was real, and my bed is soaked with sweat. Before I woke up, a split in the wall of black silhouettes ripped down from a point in forever to just before my eyes. Stood so far away it looked like an action figure, but as large as the cavern allowed a very dark figure stood. Male, even from this distance I could instantly tell it was very male; it stood looking at me with eyes unseen by mine as picking out features on it was impossible to me, but IT could see every detail of me, every part and every thing, even the parts I try to hide and never reveal to anyone; all my secrets and all my sins.

 

It raised its right arm from its side to straight out in front. One long index finger stretched out pointing at me, and in the very second I woke from this dream it screamed out in a voice that carried throughout the cavern and caused every silhouetted soul within it to fall to their knees and cover their ears with their hands;

"YOU!"

Wednesday 10:35

After a nice Doctor came round the ward looking at everyone’s notes and discussing how they slept, it was my turn.  He was nice, younger than the Doctors I had been seeing, and had huge bags under his eyes.

  He told me he was happy with my progress and, as they needed the beds, he was going to let me go home.  He told me to ask one of the nurses if I needed to call anyone to pick me up and he would be back very shortly with my discharge paperwork.

  I made a call to Xanthic’s answerphone and left a message asking to be collected but in the knowledge I’d probably have to get a taxi from the rank by the hospital entrance.  The only issue with this would be pushing past the army of smokers all hanging around to get their fix of nicotine before being marched back to their beds so they can be made fit and well again.



Wednesday 15:40.

  A new Doctor can with my paperwork and I was sent with a smile out into a very bright Wednesday afternoon.  The sky was cloudless and a rich light blue sky held a full orb of yellow hanging in the very centre of it all.  The warmth and light of real sun was so pleasant after being artificially lit by strip lights in the hospital that I thought I was in paradise.  That was until a scruffy kids dressed in rags that was somewhere under a very wide rimmed ripped and moth eaten black hat ran up to me and slapped a grubby folded paper note into my clenched hand before disappearing across the busy street without stopping or looking.  When the cars cleared the kids (he, she, it?) was gone.

  I looked down at my hand, which was now dirty from brown mud (or something worse I didn’t want to think about) and at finger tips opened the note.

  ‘You’re wanted’ it said.  And I knew I was.