Pearl was sure all that she needed was a cup of tea to put her back on the right track. Tobias just wanted Ruby to promise that if she ever, ever, EVER got any misdirected mail again she would either just ignore it or burn it. Cats, as he pointed out, are not designed for going toe to toe with Satan. It messes with the fur and plays havoc with their already highly strung senses. Magpie Jack was still more than a little worse for wear, having moved on from songs about pixies to one about a magic dragon who lived by the sea. Pearl said not to worry, however, as she had seen this a couple of times before and in a few days he’d be right as nine pence.
Pearl's explanation, however, was cut short by a faint scratching and tap-tapping from the large upright gardener’s tool box stored in the privy. Reverend Phullaposi looked at Ruby and Pearl with a growing sense of alarm... Surely not... Not so soon?
With great trepidation all three of them approached the box. They were firmly agreed that if it was something unnatural, then they would all stay and give it “a right good kicking.”
The Reverend gripped the door. He nodded to Ruby and Pearl and they returned the signal. He mouthed to them
“On three.”
Silently he mouthed the words.
“One... Two... Three.”
On that count Reverend Phullaposi tore the door open, nearly ripping it off the rusty old hinges. Pearl and Ruby leapt into action at once, thrusting themselves into the box and pulling out whoever or whatever was in there making such a feeble noise.
Out of the box and onto the floor, like a pile of old rags, much to everyone’s surprise tumbled Dave Hinchy. He was clearly in a state of severe shock and confusion. Shaking like a frightened kitten, he stammered.
“Ahriman... He... No.. It... Well... I... I... I... But , simply awful... It was you know.. It really was.. Cold.. No.. Hot.. Both.. Would you believe that he...? He did you know..? He did... He did... He did...”
**********
For a short while, that was all they could get out of the poor wretch. He sat cross-legged on the grass outside the privy, tightly gripping Ruby’s hand, squeezing so hard he almost cut off the circulation, rocking himself gently back and forth, and muttering. “He did, he did, he did.”
“Dey do, dough, don't dey, dough?” observed a familiar, wheezing, gravelly voice; affecting a truly abysmal attempt at a Scouse accent.
It was Malcolm Oldthwaite. He stood a few feet away, holding a supermarket carrier bag full of books out to Ruby.
“Got that reading material you were asking after. Sorry it took so long, but you know how it is...”
Ruby gave a thin smile. “They might have been more use at an earlier juncture, but still... better late than never, Malcolm. Better late than never. No research is ever wasted.”
“Right. Yeah...” Malcolm eyed Dave cautiously. “So, uh, what's his problem?”
“Let's just say he wasn't exactly too cautious about what he wished for. Or who he wished it from, if you catch my meaning.”
Malcolm studied the bedraggled condition of Ruby and her companions a moment, then sighed, gloomily, as her meaning dawned on him: “I missed it, didn't I? All the action?”
“I'm afraid so. But most people would count themselves lucky for that.”
“I'm not most people.”
“No. You're not.” Now it was Ruby's turn to sigh. “Still, you're here now to help us clear everything up.”
“Oh, whoop-de-do!”
“Don't be like that, Malcolm Right now, I could really use your input. Tell me... what do you know, what have you read, about the effective treatment of shock?”
“Physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, or Magickal?” Suddenly, the young bookseller was all business.
“All of the above.”
“Of course. Obviously. Stupid question. OK, shift yourself. Let the dog see the rabbit. We'll see what we can do, eh?...”
**********
Sometime later, when his composure had returned a little, and he realised that he was out of clear and present danger from Ahriman, Dave Hinchy confided in Ruby that from this moment on, and probably for the foreseeable future, he would find it nigh on impossible to go to sleep at night without a light being on in his room and somebody sitting by his bedside, holding his hand and singing soothing lullabies to him. Other than that, he seemed surprisingly physically unharmed by all of his recent traumatic experiences.
“Only I – I seem to have got this twitch in my left eye, now. All the time. I can't seem to stop it. I'm afraid I'll never get rid of it!”
“A small price to pay for the saving of your eternal soul, David. But if you don't mind, I should like to take a closer look, even so... Hm. There seems to be something on the fold of skin above the eyelid. A small, squiggly mark, like a tattoo, or... Hold still, let me see... Good... Lord...”
The mark was no tattoo; it looked natural, somewhere between a burn and a mole. Ruby needed her pince-nez to make out what it was... Upon a closer inspection she discovered a series of ancient Hebrew letters, spelling out the name “Michael”.
Of course. Lahabiel had saved Dave and claimed him for Michael, his archangel ‘boss’.
Ruby understood then why Dave had been saved; not solely for his final action against Ahriman, but for what he was. Everybody in the village had always described Dave as a ‘simple soul’. How right they were. In old English, the word “simple” meant “blessed”. The angel had spared and redeemed the blessed. Even though Dave had never known it, deep down, his own path in life was marked out essentially for good. Lahabiel had recognised this within him, and had acted accordingly.
Ruby smiled reassuringly at the still-trembling Postman.
“You may not believe me right now, David, but I promise you... You are going to be just fine.”
Chapter 22
Ask
The next morning, one by one, all of those involved in the events of
