Part One is here

The moon seeped in through the stained glass, casting a pale glow across the floor of the church. She could hear things, but they were far away, in another place and another time.

She sniffed, wrinkling up her nose at the scent. It was like the time she’d visited the farm, rank and acrid. There was straw beneath her, damp, moldy, and the air was chilled. A voice spoke, so near her ear she jumped.

‘So I was born, so you are delivered, so I never died, so you shall give your life.’

‘Um, English, please?’

Silence. Something grabbed at her face, fingers touching her, but slipping through as though they couldn’t find purchase and the voice came again, screaming.

‘IWASTOBEBORNAGAINHATEYOUHATEYOUHATEYOU.’

She curled up on her side, wrapping her hands over her ears, and feeling again and again the cold fingers drag through her.

The screaming stopped and she sat up. Moon light streamed in, pouring through the open door of the stable.

It sunk in where she was, and her mouth flapped like a fish as she shook her head. No way, there was just no way. If she was here, where were Jesus and the wise men and all that? But the stable was empty, save for the low rustle of animals. A solitary cow stood asleep in one corner.

Whether he had already watched birth of the messiah, and gone back to sleep, or missed the entire thing, she wasn’t sure. He clearly wasn’t bothered by either the occasion, or the overwhelming feeling of loss that sank deeper into her bones every second she sat upon the straw.

She struggled up, picking bits of her seat from her clothes and stepped outside. The sky was clear, the most beautiful web of stars filling the darkness. Still the hands reached for her and still she felt pulled, her heart heavy and her breaths coming in short bursts. She looked back at the stable and for a moment, a face appeared.

He was old, so old it made her tired just to look at him, and his mouth crumpled in a sneer. She shook her head, taking a step toward him. ‘You’re never being born again. You’re never coming back, you don’t belong here, now LEAVE!’

She screamed at him, putting everything she had behind it, and the grasping, groping fingers were gone, the face dissolving into the night. For a moment she stood, revelling in where she was, in what she had just done. Then the stars whirled and spun and the world went black.

The flickering, yellow light that dragged her eyes open made the thumping that filled her head just a little bit worse.

‘Give me a chance, please.’

She waved and the light moved away as she reluctantly opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was Lara’s face and she burst into tears, wrapping her arms around her neck. Lara bent awkwardly, trying to keep her weight off her, so Scarlet pulled until she toppled over and crushed her to the floor.

She pressed her lips to Lara’s, hands running over her hair and then she was laughing, her breath filling her girlfriend, their lives running together. Lara eventually extricated herself and knelt up, leaving one hand pressed lightly against Scarlet’s cheek.

She took it, squeezing it as she struggled to sit. A pair of hands helped her and she turned to Martin, who gave her a smile and a brief nod. Then he coughed, and blushed.

‘Do you need me to leave for a bit? I could leave, really, it’s no problem.’

She laughed again and hugged him. He was less awkward this time and hugged her straight back. When the soppy stuff was done with, she clambered to her feet, pretending the small volcano erupting in her head was still dormant, and walked out of the chapel into the church.

The lanterns were smashed, the torches scattered across the floor. The place was empty, no sign of the crazies or the other sacrifices. ‘Where did the girls go?’

Martin joined her. ‘The police took them. We helped them out to the pavement and made an anonymous call.’

‘And none of them asked what the hell had been going on?’

‘They did. I told them they’d been kidnapped by a demon-worshiping cult. Based on my experience with the police, they’ll probably say okay, and move on. Not much you can do with demon-worshiping cults.’

‘’Cept maybe kill the demon.’

She turned to him, eyebrows raised and he laughed, holding out his hands in defence. ‘Oh no, not yet. I need a few days rest.’

‘Rest? But you didn’t do anything.’

Lara snorted, taking her hand. ‘Actually, Martin saved my life, and the others. While you were chanting to yourself, he was fighting, like, at least fifty of the guys who kidnapped me.’

Scarlet gazed at her girlfriend, showing just how little she believed her, but a noise from outside saved her from responding. They walked from the church to meet Elt, stamping restlessly on the grass.

She stroked his nose and he whickered softly.

‘Thanks for the help back there.’

‘Uh, welcome, s’pose.’

‘Where are you going now?’

‘Up north, find the others. Bit of luck they won’t mind the dodgy horn, you know?’

She thought about saying something cynical, but settled for good luck, and stroked his nose again. He shook her hand away and set off across the graveyard. He was blurring before he reached the far wall and vanished from sight as he leaped over it.

They turned as one and walked slowly from the graveyard. Scarlet reached out and took her girlfriend’s hand, giving it a squeeze, and giving her a smile. Girlfriend. Heh.

That’s the end of A Change of Status. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, I’d love it if you could leave a comment. All and any feedback is welcome, including criticism (so long as it’s done nicely. I’m soft and bruise easily. 🙂

I’m really enjoying spending time with Scarlet and the next chapter of her life will begin here on Monday. You can join her as she gets dumped, left behind and loses all hope. On the plus side, she meets her skinny self. Actually, that’s not a plus side. That sucks. There is a plus side. Oh yeah, she meets Red Riding Hood. That’s definitely a plus side. Except she’s trying to steal her knife. So not all that good, really…

On Friday, I’ll be taking a brief look over the last couple of months. I’ll look at the things I’ve learned and my plans for the year ahead. See you then 🙂

Part One is here

How long had this guy had to plan this thing? At least a few weeks, although she’d faced down the demon six months ago, so maybe a lot longer. All that time and still the best he could do was ‘let the Undying come back to life’. Surely the contradiction in that was obvious, even to him?

She groaned, gripping the barrier as she peered through. The four crazies with knives were stood directly behind the sacrifices, gripping their arm or shoulder to hold them steady. Lara still knelt straight-backed and staring, but her lips twitched and trembled, face threatening at any moment to crumple. Scarlet’s knuckles turned white on the iron railing.

Another of the sacrifices lost it, curling up and screaming and thrashing around and three of the crazies broke from their circle to grab her and pin her down. Scarlet turned away, unable to watch, and scrambled back across the floor to the book.

She passed Martin on the way, sword in his hand, face grim. ‘I shall be ready, in case the spell does not work quickly enough. Don’t worry about Lara.’

She was about to reply when a sound stopped her dead. It was like the THX boom that began the start of movies, only all the notes were wrong, and made her head want to leave the country and find a nice quiet beach somewhere on the coast of Mexico. It was followed by the sound of wind, rushing through narrow corridors and scraping dead leaves across bare stone.

It smelled like rot and age and her hands shook as she turned to the spell book. She picked it up and knelt among the ingredients.

A shadow filled the top of the church, dense and impenetrable. She could feel him from her vantage point, feel the disdain. It was like standing at the front of the class, every other student sat, following their successful answers, whilst you waited, hopeless, knowing you were never going to get it right.

It was like that, only with added threat of death if you got it wrong. Or maybe like, a complete weekend detention. Without internet access.

She shivered, and watched her breath emerge into the suddenly freezing air. The sound came again, a surge from beneath her feet that made her head spin and her stomach turn.

She chanted, the words coming slow to start, then flowing as the shadow and the smell and noise drifted into the background. Her voice deepened, as though someone else was speaking through her, and a face appeared, floating above the words.

He was young and hot, and looked like Lara, only with messier hair and wild eyes. She wasn’t reading anymore, the words coming from somewhere else. Her fingers tingled, the static running up and down her back, and when she put a hand to the stone it crackled.

A different sound broke her concentration for a moment, and she looked up to see the gate at the front of the chapel swing open, Martin stepping through with sword held high. Beyond, the crazies were turning to face him, knives in hand.

Beyond them she saw Lara, alive and looking straight back at her. Her girlfriend’s eyes widened as she stared, but her smile was rich and filled Scarlet. She glanced back at the book, the words still spilling from her.

The sound came again, powerful enough to rattle her chest and she gasped. With it came words.

‘I AM RETURNED. BOW, SERVANTS, AND GIVE TO ME MY BLOOD’

Two of the crazies turned away from Martin to the girls, and he shouted, charging at them with his sword before him.

Scarlet chanted, but the words were pulled from her lips as a wind blew, filling the church and whipping round and round. Her hair flew about and the ingredients slid across the floor.

She chanted quicker and closed her eyes. She pictured Elt and found him just outside the church. He was waiting, and the power surged through him, and into her. She gasped as every part of her sang and lifted. The place below her stomach grew hot and she moaned, Lara’s face filling her mind.

She panted, the fine hairs on her arms standing straight up, the words falling from her faster than she could speak. When the noise came again, there was another note to it, a dis-chord beyond the dissonance, and the voice howled.

‘SOMETHING BLOCKS ME. BRING ME MY BLOOD.’

The clash of steel sounded, but it came from far away. She could feel every single fibre in her body, speaking to her, rushing and rushing. Then the chanting ended and the ingredients that were scattered around the chapel were consumed, bursts of flame reducing them to ash.

The wind blew faster, throwing dust in her face and she opened her eyes in time to see the lanterns and torches gutter and go out, blackness descending upon the church. The sound came one final time, a scream so agonised she wrapped her arms around herself, spell book dropping to the floor, and howled.

Her voice was matched by others, a choir of utter desolation, that silenced as quickly as it had begun, and then there was nothing.

Final Instalment Wednesday 26th March 2014

Part One is here

The church was lit with flaming torches, some shoved in the backs of pews, others strewn across the stone floor. Lara was on the right of the four sacrifices, head held high as tears streamed down her cheeks. It was all Scarlet could do to not run out there. Martin realised, his hand closing gently around her arm. ‘Not yet. Come on.’

He pulled her back into the shadows and they crouched, facing one another. Her leg muscles squealed. She’d done more exercise in the last four days than her entire life and they were close to quitting. She sat on her bum, sighing as she took the weight off, and looked back between the barrier.

One of the crazies stood, stepped forward, and checked his watch. He stared at it for a few seconds, then bent and lit one of the lanterns. Scarlet squirmed, sweat breaking out on her brow as she waited for the corresponding girl to be sacrificed, but apparently it wasn’t time for that yet. It was the first lantern lit, so they had a bit of time. Maybe.

Martin pulled the book from his pocket and laid it down, bending back the spine so it stayed open. She glared at him, shaking her head, then decided that proper book care probably wasn’t high on the list of things he was worried about right now.

He pulled all sorts of ingredients from his pockets and laid them out. She watched, eyes flicking between him and the crazies. When Martin was finished, he rocked back on his heels, finger moving slowly down the page, checking and rechecking.

‘What does the spell actually do?’

Martin rocked his head from side to side. ‘It’s a binding spell, essentially, but it has some other things thrown in. The Undying carries a lot of power with him, more than could be managed by a normal binding. So we’re blocking his sight of the real world and removing some of the sources of his power as well.’

She nodded, as though she had any idea what he meant. ‘So what am I doing?’

He slid the book over to her, turning it around and pointing to the top of a long verse. ‘You’re reading that. As you’re reading, you’re focusing on Elt, and on not having the Undying climb into your brain and eat you alive.’

‘Oh, Okay, easy enough then.’

She wished, every now and then, that Martin understood the subtler things about life as a sixteen year old girl. There was no reason he should, but surely he could make a bit of an effort. ‘So what do I do if it does crawl into my brain?’

Her hands shook.

‘Tell it to go away, and focus on the spell. You’ll feel him, I’m almost certain of it. Thornbright makes it sound like a wrestling match in there, so be ready.’

‘How the hell am I supposed to be ready?’

She hissed at him and he put his fingers to his lips. The chanting stopped and they both froze, Scarlet gripping the top of the book. She could hear her heart thumping, the blood rushing round her body. Surely they could as well. The only sound was the gentle crackle of the torches, the soft scurrying of the wind outside.

Then the chanting continued and she let out a long breath, the shaking coming again until she had to let go of the book and sit on her hands. She glared at Martin, mouthing the question to him again. His reply was a shrug.

‘That’s it? That’s all you’ve got, oh great and powerful master?’

He nodded. ‘All I can add is that I wouldn’t be letting you do this if I didn’t think you could. You have power, Scarlet, and—’

‘So that’s your real name? Well, it took a while, but it was well worth the wait.’

The man emerged from the pews beside them, black cowl pulled back to reveal a face that belonged in a Tim Burton movie, all cheek bones and dark eyes. He flowed rather than walked, like a snake oozes across the forest floor.

She wasn’t sure what made her shudder, the sight of him, or her inner vision of the nature documentary about snakes she’d had on replay for the last couple of weeks. Then he spoke again and she forgot all about the TV show.

‘This is turning out rather well. I have the book and your real name. You tried, and for that I congratulate you, but alas, it wasn’t to be.’

He was speaking quietly, voice low and slippery as he stepped between them and bent to scoop up the book. Scarlet grabbed for it. He yanked it out the way and with his other hand, shoved her back.

She hit the stone floor, arms flailing, but somehow failing to connect with anything that would stop her fall. Her head cracked against the paving and her mouth slammed shut. She whimpered, the world going black for a moment, before her vision returned, accompanied by a steady thudding behind her eyes.

The man and Martin were staring at one another, both tense, jaws clenched. She relaxed her eyes and saw the green. They were wrapped in it and between them ran a thread, a twisting rope of green that tied them together.

She moved closer, mouth open as she forgot for a second where she was and marvelled at the sight. The energy moved, shooting back and forth between them. They were fighting, on some level. She should probably help, but it was so pretty.

She blinked, then clenched her fist and punched the man as hard as she could in the stomach. He blinked, the tension leaving him as he sat on his bum with a look of surprise on his face. Why was it these guys were always surprised when someone used physical force?

Martin was blinking as well, shooting Scarlet the funniest look. He’d thank her later, probably. The crazy lunged at her, snarling, and grabbed her around the throat. Then he stiffened, hands slipping free to clutch his side

He toppled back, Martin catching him and lowering him to the floor. She spotted the knife buried between his ribs and stared at Martin, the blood rushing from her face.

‘You killed him.’

Martin frowned and turned to the body. He grabbed it by the shoulders and dragged it from the chapel, back out into the store room. She watched him work as her stomach tried to rebel. Four days ago, she’d never seen a dead body, never imagined she would. Now she’d not only seen one, she’d seen her master do the killing.

That someone had been trying to strangle her, but… she put her hands to her throat, feeling the bruises already rising and rolled onto her side, shoulders hitching. He was going to strangle her, real name or not. Her tears were hot and felt like lines of fire running across her cheeks and nose. When they dropped to the floor, she half expected them to hiss and bubble.

Martin came back from the room and lifted her gently, wrapping her in his big arms. She stiffened, as though the blood on his hands could somehow be passed to her, but in a moment she relaxed, sobbing into his chest.

When it subsided, she pushed him gently away and they sat facing one another. He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, there was no other option. He knew your name.’

‘So that was my fault?’

‘Of course it wasn’t. But we have to stop this. This isn’t just about your mum, or me, it’s about the entire world. The stakes are entirely different.’

Were they though? Her world was made up of mum, and Martin, and maybe the few vaguely good bits of school, and of course, now there was Lara, but was there much else? She thought about Tumblr. Nope, that was about it.

So maybe it was about the world, but she’d already had to fight for most of hers. This was just the same, which meant she could do it. She nodded, chewing on her lip, as the now-familiar sight of those dead eyes came back to her from the Underworld. There were things she could never forget, never remove, no matter how long she lived. But she would keep going. Anyway, she didn’t have much choice.

Martin nodded and picked up the book, leafing through it to find the correct page. He handed it to her and she was about to ask when she was supposed to start when the chanting stopped again, to be replaced by a booming, try-hard voice.

‘The lanterns are lit, and everything is ready. Let the sacrifice begin, let the Undying come back to life!’

Part One is here

Bloody sodding sod it. One day she’d learn that life was never simple, or easy, but until such time, Scarlet would continue to be surprised and annoyed when stupid people got in the way. Martin seemed to be thinking the same thing, heaving a sigh as he muttered, twin swords appearing in his outstretched hands.

His other weapon had been colossal, but these two were graceful; curved narrow blades emerging from hilts protected by fine steel filigree. She wasn’t sure what filigree was, but they’d talked about it on antiques roadshow and she was fairly certain that’s what it looked like.

Martin ran, straight toward the attackers, and they looked panicked, staring wide-eyed as he charged. Then he shouted and they came back to life, the first throwing himself forward, jabbing with his knife.

The blade slid off one of the swords, as the other somehow slid around the back of his leg and tore it open. The… what were they called? Were they priests, if it was a coven? How about weirdos, or crazies maybe, like they talked about in american movies? Crazies would do.

The crazy screamed and collapsed, and she could see the blood glugging out like a milk bottle dropped to the floor. She swallowed, turning her head into Elt’s flank for a moment. The crazy kept screaming, grabbing his leg and writhing around in pain, and she quickly decided that for all their demon worship they were a bunch of wusses.

Martin faced up to the other two. They were more cautious, standing side by side and waiting for him to attack. He thought about it for a second or two, rocking gently on the boles of his feet, then moved.

She thought of him as an old guy, but maybe that needed revising. He moved far faster than any young guy she’d ever seen, and she almost didn’t see his blade cut through one of the crazies’s wrists, his knife dropping to the floor as he joined his mate in screaming and writhing, and generally making a fuss.

If it wasn’t for the blood, she could almost have enjoyed it, but her stomach was roiling and reminding her she’d had nothing to eat for far too long. Although if she had, it’d probably be on the ground by now.

The third crazy had frozen and Martin leapt at him, batting aside the knife and punching him in the face. The guy crumpled and Martin let go of his swords. They vanished before they hit the floor and he grabbed the crazy by the top of his cloak, yanking him upright and hissing quietly to him.

Moments later, he ran past her and out of the graveyard, face pale. Martin motioned with his head toward the church. She looked at the two on the floor. The one whose leg resembled a kebab was quieter now, whimpering and clutching at the wound, but the wrist guy was moaning and holding his arm, shaking his head in big, exaggerated gestures.

She tapped him on the arm. ‘You’re lucky, ‘kay? It could have been me.’

His eyes widened and he staggered away toward the exit. She gave Martin a smile. ‘That was pretty impressive. How do you do the trick with the swords?’

Martin raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, first you spend ten or so years learning how to use them, then you get taught the spell to bring them into being.’

She stuck her tongue out and walked past him, followed by Elt. They paused at the entrance to the church. ‘The grave is outside, right?’

Martin shrugged. ‘I have no idea. It’s quite possible his grave is inside. It’s a stone, nothing more. Remember, there isn’t a body, never was. So it could be anywhere, and could be any size. Not that it matters, we aren’t looking for the grave, we’re looking for the rest of the coven.’

She nodded and pulled on the door of the church. It didn’t budge and she pulled harder. Still nothing. Well, that made it easy to decide. She waved a hand around the side of the church and he nodded.

As they crept around it, more and more of the grave yard came into view. And the more they saw, the more convinced she became the grave was in the church. Once they had completed their circuit, her suspicions were confirmed. The graveyard stood empty and quiet, darkness creeping slowly over it as night fell.

She turned to go back to the church and saw Elt, and stopped. ‘Hang on. Elt, you did this last time, so why don’t you know where the grave is?’

‘Thought you’d never ask. Thornbright worked from a distance. I clearly remember him telling me there was no point in putting himself in the firing line if he could do the work from his house.’

‘You’re telling me he sat at home with a hot chocolate and the news on whilst he stopped the world ending?’

‘Not exactly. He was drinking tea, pretty certain, and was very focused. Dunno know what happened, really, I was just the conduit.’ The unicorn looked at its feet, and she’d swear he was embarrassed. ‘Steer well clear of the dangerous stuff, me.’

They caught Martin as he was kneeling down beside the tired pale bricks, examining a small door in the side of the church.

He shoved it and it stayed very much closed. He muttered and a knife appeared in his hand. He inserted it into the lock and wiggled it around a while, until the clear ‘ker-thunk’ of it opening seemed to boom through the churchyard. All three of them ducked, staring about.

Night was bringing with it an odd sort of peace, like when there was fog in the morning, really early morning, and it felt like everyone in the world was asleep but you. There should have been loads of traffic sounds and people, but she could hear next to nothing.

They waited. She tapped her watch and Martin shook his head, frowning, so she put up her fists, miming them fighting. He sighed and shook his head again, and she pulled a face. They waited some more, then he pushed the door.

It creaked open, the sound making her jump, but nobody leaped out at them, so Martin crouched down and stepped through. She followed close behind, before realising there wasn’t a hope of Elt getting in. She turned back to him. He was already stepping away from the church.

‘I’m more than near enough already, thanks.’

‘But how do you, I mean, the whole conduit thing, how does it work?’

‘When you cast, hold me in your head. I’ll do the rest.’

She nodded and turned back to the dingy tunnel. Martin was already in and she hurried again. Why didn’t he ever wait?

The corridor emerged into a small room, filled with sacks and shelves. The shelves held candles and seat covers and other random, exceptionally boring things that drove her straight through to the door on the opposite wall.

Martin had it open and turned, finger pressed to his lips, which was, without a doubt, one of the least necessary bits of advice he’d ever given her. They stepped through and found themselves in the bit off the side of the church, with a tiny altar and a few rows of chairs.

She’d known what it was called, at some point in her life, though god knows why. Hah, he probably did. ‘Something’ chapel. Beyond that, she didn’t have a clue. It didn’t matter. What mattered was the chanting and the thick, pungent smoke that filled the air. And the feeling that every surface was going to give her an electric shock, even though most of it was stone or wood.

Martin crouched and bade her do the same, before moving forward on hands and knees. They reached the barrier between this part and the rest of church. More wrought iron, possibly more filigree too, though she couldn’t be sure.

She peered through the iron and took in the scene. There were maybe twenty guys, all wearing the black robes, all trying way too hard to be evil. She thought again about the screaming from the one outside and the scene was suddenly comical. It was like something from a Monty Python movie, ‘the holy devil worshippers’. Any moment now they’d start dancing and hitting one another with fish.

Then the one nearest her moved and her breath caught in her throat. They were gathered around a pile of wood, surrounded by a ring of four lanterns, the old-fashioned sort made of metal with panes of glass. Behind each of the lanterns knelt a girl, about her age, tied up and on their knees. Behind each stood one of the crazies, knives clutched in shaking hands. Scarlet knew Lara was there, but it made it no easier when she recognised her, head held high, tears running down her cheeks to meet the steel blade pressed just beneath her chin.