about it.”
Margaret didn’t look convinced; more sceptical. “It all sounds…”
“I know how it sounds, but you’ve got to believe me. People are dying out there. Here, look at this.” She withdrew her mobile, turned it on and played the video she had shot in the basement.
Margaret watched without speaking. When the video finished, she said, “All I saw were a load of legs. It could have been anyone.”
Joanna turned the phone back off. “What about the conversation?”
“It could have been staged. A recording. I don’t know what you want from me.”
“Stand up and be counted. Back me up. Two people shout louder than one.”
Margaret removed the bottle from the baby’s mouth and placed him across her shoulder, patting his back. “I’m sorry, but I’m not convinced about what you’re saying. You’re talking as though they’re monsters.”
“Oh believe me, they’re worse than monsters.”
The baby burped and Margaret cradled him in her arms and stared at him. “I’d like to help… it’s just… I’ve got a family.”
Joanna wanted to shout, to scream, anything to secure Margaret’s help, but realising the futility of it, she nodded, resigned to being all on her own.
Apologising for waking her, Joanna left the house and walked up the street. She needed to clear her head, think things through.
Moths flitted around the streetlights like lost souls. Joanna knew how they felt. Her world would never be the same. And people had to know what was going on.
Whatever it took, she was going to bring the bastards down.
CHAPTER 27
“Well where will she go?” Malachi asked.
Jaasir, the demon using Stephen’s body shrugged. Blisters from the holy water scarred his face, appearing to have almost eaten through one of his cheeks, the flesh weeping.
Malachi didn’t like to acknowledge that his minions had a weakness.
“Her family lives too far away, but she has a few friends close by,” Jaasir said as he picked at one of the blisters, peeling the skin back to reveal the layers underneath. “She might go to one of them.”
Malachi nodded. Damn that girl. She was turning out to be more than an irritant. “Is there anywhere else she might go?” He suspected that she wouldn’t return to a church, not after last time. It had been blind luck that his minions checked out the holy places in their search. That luck wouldn’t last.
“She might revisit Margaret Jones.”
Malachi frowned. “And who is Margaret Jones?”
“Both Joanna and Margaret received corneal implants from a priest. That’s how they can see us. The priest has given them the ability.”
“So there’s another one with the power? Why wasn’t I told about this?” Malachi glared at Jaasir. “See to your face, then fetch me this Margaret Jones so that I can pluck out her eyes myself.”
Jaasir nodded and exited the basement room.
Malachi watched as his minion departed. The brief sense of glee he felt at possessing Joanna’s boyfriend with one of his creed had been short-lived.
With Jaasir gone, he turned to face one of the doctor’s in his group. “I need something to keep my vessel asleep so that I can be in control at all times. Your host will have the information in his memory files. Access them.”
The doctor nodded. “You’re talking about a barbiturate-induced coma.”
“And what’s one of those?”
“Basically it’s a temporary coma brought about by using a drug such as pentobarbital or thiopental. Humans use it to put a patient’s brain into hibernation so that it can recuperate.”
Malachi waved his hand dismissively. “And will it stop Lincoln from waking?”
The doctor nodded.
“Then get me the drugs.”
Malachi smiled. When he had total control, nothing would be able to stop him.
CHAPTER 28
Unable to oust the demons for fear of being ridiculed – or worse – Joanna knew her only option was to kill them.
Despite the macabre train of thought, she felt oddly calm, as though the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders; everything now seemed clear cut.
But how do you kill a pack of demons when the only way that appeared to work was beheading? She couldn’t exactly walk up to them all and hack at their heads with a machete without being stopped.
There had to be something. Something she hadn’t considered.
While she pondered the situation, she decided to call at as many churches as she could to obtain more holy water. At least then she would be able to hold any demons that confronted her at bay.
To hold the water, she purchased a couple of large bottles of fizzy pop from an all-night garage. She also managed to obtain a small funnel.
She drank a little of the pop, but poured most of it away.
Long gone were the days when churches weren’t locked out of hours, so she had to wait until morning before she could enter. That was a long way off.
Too anxious to sleep, and too scared to be on her own, she wandered the streets until she came across an all-night cafe.
The Asian man behind the counter nodded as she entered.
Across the other side of the room, a boy and girl in their early twenties looked up, then resumed their conversation. Both of them looked the worse for alcohol.
The cafe was well lit, but the interior left much to be desired. The yellow plastic chairs had seen better days and the table tops were laden with scratches and the odd bit of graffiti.
“What can I get you?” the man asked.
“Tea, please.” Realising she hadn’t eaten for ages, and that she would need all her strength, she said, “And can I have a plate of chips as well.”
The man nodded and proceeded to tip some frozen chips from a bag into the fryer. Then he poured the tea into a mug, passed it over and took her money.
“The chips won’t be long,” he said as he handed back her change.
Joanna nodded and carried her drink to a corner table. As she sat, a siren wailed outside. She ducked slightly as the police car sped by. Still wanted for an apparent murder that she didn’t commit, she didn’t dare risk being seen.
Once the noise petered out, she sat up and sipped at her drink, mulling over everything that had happened. She still couldn’t believe that Stephen and Nina were to all intents and purposes, dead.
When her chips arrived, she nibbled at them without enthusiasm, forcing herself to eat.
She recalled the hurried phone conversation with her mum. She must be worried sick, she thought, not knowing what’s going on. If she made a brief call, surely the police wouldn’t be able to trace it.
She reached into her pocket to withdraw her phone, but it wasn’t there. She searched her other pockets, then it occurred to her that she must have left it at Margaret’s house.
If it was just needed to make a call, she would have used a callbox, but the mobile phone also had the brief film clip on it. At the end of the day, she might need it.
