My Demon

  My Demon

  By

  By Lisa C Hinsley

  First published in 2011 by Lisa C Hinsley

  Copyright © Lisa C Hinsley All rights reserved.

  The author asserts the moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

  All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Also by Lisa C Hinsley

  Novels:

  Plague

  Ultimate Choice

  Coombe’s Wood

  Short story collection:

  A Peculiar Collection

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Alex let out a long-held breath, air and smoke whistling between her teeth. “Windows to the soul.”

  “What?” Jeremy asked. He took the joint from her, nodding along to the beat playing out of the stereo.

  “The eyes,” she said a little louder. Then Alex closed hers, not wanting trouble from the teens across the way. Watching them might be enough to attract their attention. “Minibus doors locked?”

  “Uh-huh.” Jeremy raised the roll-up to his lips. He inhaled for a long time, the tip glowing bright red in the darkness.

  “Gimme that.” Alex grabbed the joint from him.

  Next to her, Jeremy flopped back against the seat. Alex giggled, her attention still on him as his fingers tap-tapped to Razorlight.

  An express train shrieked past, drowning out the end of the song. With a gush, Alex exhaled a cloud of pale blue-grey smoke and collapsed into her seat. She concentrated on the view beyond the window, where a shadowy clump of trees grew on the other side of the tracks. They stood out against a deep electric-blue colored sky. She smiled, imagining a giant child sat behind the horizon, busy creating a life-sized collage. A toy train shot past, the lights inside the carriages flickering. Blank mannequin faces stared out unseeing into the night. The flames from the oil barrel by the tracks morphed into warm tones of crinkling crepe paper, the teenagers into translucent ghosts. They merged with the shadows, only the pale shade of their hands placing them in the dark.

  “Hello, Alex.” A voice spoke up from a few seats behind her.

  Her eyes flickered away from the window and onto Jeremy—had he spoken? He’d slouched down even further and was plucking the base rhythm to a Zeppelin song on a torn hole in his jeans. Must have been him, no one else was in the minivan. Squealing guitars, lyrics sung in a scream filled her ears. So much noise and something wrong she couldn’t quite remember…

  Drums thumped deep enough to rattle her chest. Jeremy moved with the pulse of the song and bumped rhythmically against her. The seats were too small. Alex slid down and propped her knees up, her bare skin sticking to the grey leather of the chair in front. Outside, the sky transformed back to boring navy blue. A few stars flickered between wafts of yellow clouds, the lights of Reading town bouncing off their undersides.

  The minibus emptied of music for a second as the tracks changed. Then the sounds of a guitar pierced the silence, and Alex mouthed Babe as Robert Plant started to sing. Strings picked, drums sliding up to a crescendo, diving down to the vocals … divine. Alex snuggled into the seat. It was then she remembered the unfamiliar voice. She must have been hearing things.

  Nevertheless, she elbowed Jeremy and said, “Did you say something?”

  She slid onto Jeremy’s lap and peered up at him. His eyes were closed, his mouth curled into a content smile. Only his rhythmic nodding in time to the music proved consciousness.

  “Jeremy.” She poked his nose. “I’m talking to you.”

  Alex pulled at his bottom lip, letting it snap back with a plopping sound. A smile grew across her face, and she reached up for a second time.

  “Cut it out,” Jeremy said, his eyes opening into slits.

  “Did you say something?” Alex wrapped a lock of her hair around two fingers.

  “I said: Cut it out.”

  “No, silly. Before that.”

  “Uh, I don’t think I did.” Jeremy returned to nodding in time to the drums as they crashed and banged.

  Alex sat back up and curled her head around the side of the seat. She peered towards the rear of the minibus, Robert Plant shouting out of the speakers about leaving. On the last row, at the very back, a man sat watching her. Her mouth dropped open as she stared at his red devil suit.

  “Who the bloody hell are you?” Alex yelled.

  “I’m Jeremy, you wally.”

  Alex gave Jeremy a punch in the arm. “Turn around, look!”

  Smoke collected under the roof. Tendrils curled down and obscured the face of the stranger as he stood up and made his way slowly down the aisle, trailing his fingertips on the seatbacks as he passed them.

  Jeremy peered over his shoulder. “What’s your problem?” he said, and sat back around.

  “You brought some strange guy?”

  Jeremy ignored her.

  “Without asking me first?” Alex kept her eyes on the strange man. “Jeremy invited you? But I don’t remember seeing you earlier…”

  “I wasn’t here then,” the stranger said.

  “But surely…” She tugged on Jeremy’s arm. “You paying attention?”

  “To what, the music?”

  “No, stupid, the man over there.” She thumped him. “The one you apparently let on the bus, but didn’t think to tell me.”

  “What are you going on about?” Jeremy opened his eyes and peered out the window. “I don’t see anyone.” He rubbed his arm where she’d hit him.

  “Back there, here, inside!” Alex shook her head, frustrated. “You just looked at him—when he was at the back of the bus. What the hell is going on?”

  “What do you think?” The man stopped beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. A feeling of calm replaced her growing anxiety and an idea came to her—almost as if planted there. The stranger was a hallucination. Brought on by smoking too much weed. The man withdrew his hand and gave a slight nod.

  Alex frowned, still not entirely sure of anything. Then the smoke cleared, and she got her first good look at the stranger. He had Hollywood good looks, with sharp cheekbones and a cleft in his chin. The fullness of his mouth drew her—Latin lips, made for snogging. His eyes, startling in their shade of blue, stood out next to the olive tones of his skin. What had they smoked? She would rename Jeremy in honor of this vision. Ronaldo. Or maybe Marcello.

  “Looked at who?” Jeremy asked.

  “Catch up.” She patted him on the leg.

  “I’m Clive,” the stranger said, and offered her a smile. He folded his arms and leaned against the edge of the seat opposite.

  “You’re not real, are
you?” Was she being rude? Did her imaginary Italian mind? “No one real would wear that.” Alex suppressed a giggle. “Why are you dressed in that?”

  “Oh, this?” He indicated at his clothes. “Seemed appropriate.”

  “Oh.” Alex frowned then turned to Jeremy. His pale English complexion stood out in stark contrast to the tanned skin of her apparition.

  Jim Morrison belted out warnings of murder amid a cacophony of crashing symbols and drums. Alex looked back over as Clive sat down across the aisle from her. He crossed his legs daintily and linked his fingers around the knee. She stared for a long while, her mouth twitching as she tried to work out what to say.

  “I really don’t understand why you’re dressed in a devil costume,” Alex finally said.

  “What’re you prattling on about?” Jeremy said. “Have you gone right over the flipping edge?”

  “Shut it, Jeremy. I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to Clive.”

  “I’m not a devil, I’m a demon. And besides, I find the costume comfortable,” Clive replied, his eyes fixed unyieldingly on hers. “Anyway, it’s part of the uniform. All demons are required to wear this.”

  He reached up and stroked one of his horns. They were bright red and seemed to be made from velvet, matching the tight cat suit he wore. Alex squinted at the hair band. She had one at home, left over from a costume party, with similar stuffed horns.

  “They’re soft.” Clive circled the tip slowly with his finger. “Would you like to touch them?”

  “Um… uh. No.” Alex forced her eyes away from his headdress. “I suppose if you’re a demon, you have to wear the suit.” She fiddled with her hair. “Only I’d have thought you’d wear something … a little scarier.” For a second, his skin vibrated, softened. She jumped back and hid partly behind Jeremy as the stranger solidified. A fleeting headache passed behind her temples, along with the sensation that for a brief instance, she’d caught a glimpse of something else, something horrible. She turned to Jeremy and in a harsh whisper said, “I don’t like this dope. It’s too bloody strong.”

  “Yeah, in’t it just,” Jeremy replied and snorted out a laugh. Jim Morrison screamed out of the speakers, the music heavy and oppressive.

  “I do have a scary outfit. But I save that one for special occasions.” Clive smiled. His lips parted for a moment, giving a flash of bright white teeth.

  Alex reached across the aisle to touch the fabric of his suit. The velvet was soft, clingy—but hot, almost scorching. She withdrew her hand, and rubbed the tingles from her fingers. “Why are you here?”

  “I’ve come to help you.” He straightened and in a deepened voice said, “You’ve been specially selected from over one billion candidates for an incredible opportunity.” He tossed back a couple of stray jet-black locks with a flick of his head.

  “You sound like one of those annoying phone calls that say you’ve won a million pounds. And all you have to do is call this 0800 number. Then you find out you’ve only won a key ring, and at some point they connected you to somewhere halfway across the world. But you won’t know that until the telephone bill lands on the mat.” Alex crossed her arms. “What’s your catch?”

  “Ha, ha, ha!” Clive’s baby blues twinkled. “No catch, just a little fun. We thought you needed some.”

  “Who’re we?”

  “Why, us. Those who live below,” Clive said with a shrug.

  “Below where?”

  “Below figuratively. We don’t actually live in the bowels of the earth, but on another plane. Dimension if you will. The angels called dibs on the higher floor.”

  Alex frowned. “The angels called dibs?”

  “Better view,” the demon said, nodding.

  “Oh.” She rubbed at her temples. “You’re confusing me, Clive.” Alex tugged on Jeremy’s sleeve. Drums and cymbals crashed. Alex shrank away from the noise, hands over her ears. Clive tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips, and fixed his hypnotic eyes on her.

  “Jeremy. Jeremy. JEREMY!” Alex shrieked the last word and swiveled around on her seat, and tried to block any sign of the stranger in the red cat suit. Hopefully, Clive would be gone when she next looked over.

  “Huh?” Jeremy opened his eyes for a second. He blinked twice, before the lids slid back down.

  “TURN THE MUSIC DOWN!” Alex screamed.

  Jeremy sprang up, wobbled a bit, and said, “What the bloody hell?”

  “I can’t think. It’s got to me—the beat…” She grabbed one of his hands. “Please, turn the music down.”

  She tucked her knees in, watching as Jeremy struggled onto his feet and squeezed between her and the seat in front. He straightened up, his head almost brushing the ceiling of the minibus, his face shrouded in second-hand smoke. Alex stared, mouth unhinged, as Jeremy clambered oblivious around the demon and past two more rows of benches as he worked his way to the driver’s seat. A couple of seconds later he must have found the power button as the noise stopped. Alex lowered her hands from the sides of her head, ears buzzing in the silence. Beside her, Clive observed her every movement.

  Alex leaned forward and whispered, “You’re not real, are you…?”

  “What’s up, babe?” Jeremy stood up, stretched as best he could in the cramped minibus, and then asked, “You hungry? Cause I got the munchies something wicked.” He slid a food hamper out from under Clive’s feet and rooted around inside.

  “Don’t you see him?” Alex pointed at the demon.

  “Who?” Jeremy opened his mouth wide, and took a huge bite from an overflowing chicken salad sandwich. “You want something?” he said, and pushed the hamper towards Alex with his foot.

  “No, I don’t want anything…” She peered inside and after a slight pause, pulled a Dairy Milk out from under a can of Fanta. “Clive,” she said, and ripped the chocolate bar open.

  “Who’s Clive?” Jeremy asked, and finished the first half of his sandwich. “Hey, didn’t you say something about him earlier?”

  “Yes.” Alex nodded. “You asked who I could see, and the answer is Clive. He’s sitting right there.” She pointed across the aisle. “He’s a demon.”

  Clive waved obligingly at Jeremy.

  “He can’t see me,” Clive said.

  “I can’t see anyone,” Jeremy said. “You’re hallucinating. I told you that were good shit.” Jeremy dug around in the bottom of the hamper for a Coke. He snapped the can open and took a long drink. “A demon, huh? Wonder what that says about you,” he said with a grin.

  “No one else can see you?” Alex asked. “I’m the only person who can?”

  “Yup.” He flashed his brilliant smile at her again. “The privilege is all yours.”

  “Is he talking to you, Alex?” Jeremy popped the last mouthful of the chicken sandwich in his mouth, bent over the food, and pulled out a pack of Doritos. He suppressed a burp with the back of his hand before opening the crisps.

  “Yeah. You know, this is too strange.” Alex touched Jeremy’s knee. “Can you take me home?” She glanced sideways at the demon, her eyes narrowed down to slits. “I’m guessing you’ll go away soon?”

  “Only if you want me to, babe,” Jeremy said. He put the top back on the hamper and shoved it under the seat.

  “Why would I go anywhere else?” Clive asked. “I like you Alex. I think I could be here for a while.”

  Jeremy coasted up to Alex’s house and slipped the minibus into an impossibly small space.

  “Do I get a kiss then, babe?” Jeremy leaned over, lips puckered. Alex shrank away from him and glanced at the demon currently sat two seats behind her. Clive waved at her. His stuffed horns slipped forward. He pushed them back, tracing the length of one with a finger.

  “You know that hallucination of mine?” Alex said as Jeremy released the pucker from his lips. “He’s obscene. He keeps making gestures at me with his horns.”

  “Maybe he’s hinting that we should get it on in here.” Jeremy leaned over again, this time not attempting the kis
s. He cupped a breast with one hand, and slid the other up her leg.

  “No, Jeremy. I can’t fool around with Clive watching. Feels weird.” She pulled his hand out from under her skirt, and pushed him gently away. “Next time stick to legal shit. Perhaps a nice bottle of cider, okay?” Alex gave him an apologetic peck on the cheek. His skin was smooth, freshly shaved, his scent accentuated with the faint tang of aftershave. “Sorry.”

  “Sounds like I don’t have a choice.” Jeremy stuck his lower lip out and stared at the floor. “Old Willie will have to find other ways of amusing himself.”

  “I’m sure the two of you will manage just fine.”

  Alex jumped out of the minibus and walked up her garden path. She turned the key in the lock, checked she was by herself, and opened the front door a crack. Jeremy waved, seemingly alone in the vehicle. She dipped a nod, and slipped inside, locking up before she could be followed in. With a loud sigh, Alex leaned against the wall. What a strange night.

  “Alexandra is that you?” A voice floated out from the living room.

  “It’s Alex, Mum, and yes, it’s me.” Alex went over to the closed door, and stood unmoving for a minute, her hand resting on the handle. The stairs started two feet to her left. The faded paisley print on the treads disappeared invitingly into the darkness upstairs.

  “Go on in. This will be fun.”

  Alex let out a yelp and jumped back, falling into Clive’s arms.

  “Jesus. You scared me!” Alex lurched away from him, a hand over her heart. It pulsed hard and fast under her palm. “I was hoping you’d gone.”

  “Nope, just had something to do. Go in, my little sugarplum.”

  “I’m not sure I want to.” She leaned against the door.

  “And why not?” The demon turned the handle. “Go on. I promise you it’ll all work out.”

  Alex let out a long sigh. “Fine, okay, have it your way.” She closed her eyes for a moment, considering the idea of her conversing with a hallucination. She felt a jab in her back.