Authors: Anton Marks
“Your man Spokes has no criminal record but had a minor tra
ffic violation seven years ago. He was driving a car that the motor patrol bobby thought had been stolen but turned out to have been loaned to him by a friend, Jimmy Éclair. They were buddies back in the Caribbean.”
“I know this is going somewhere right?” Y asked feigning imp
atience.
“There’s more,” Shaft continued. “At the time Jimmy Éclair was working with a self professed Obeah man from Jamaica called Enoch Lacombe who was running a gambling den with a few close acolytes around him as he begged, steal
ed and murdered for certain types of antiquities. Years later Éclair disappeared and his murder, along with three other people working with this psycho, was pinned on him. Spokes has never showed up on our radar since. Until now.”
Y stroked his arm.
“You’re beginning to worry me. You don’t walk around with these facts bouncing around in your head as a matter of course, do you?”
Shaft laughed then got serious staring intensely into Y’s eyes, his voice lowered.
“Normally I’d say no but on my desk right now is a set of murders linked with this sadist Enoch Lacombe. In the last four weeks eleven people have been slaughtered. Some of these victims deserve everything they got but there are other casualties who have been caught up in a struggle I can’t explain. These are decent people torn from their families. That’s when the facts aren’t just mere facts but people’s lives. And it sticks with me, everywhere I go. The thing is this killer has been in prison for the past four years of a thirty year stretch. He is physically incapable of committing these crimes but they are happening. Then there is this niggling feeling I’ve got, that’s prompting me to ask you if any of this is related to your client.”
“So
why haven’t you asked this Enoch Lacombe guy to give you his take on the situation?”
“Funny you should ask that because I’ve been trying to book an appointment with him in Wormwood Scrubs for five weeks and as far as I can figure out it’s been denied from the top. First my Governor wouldn’t have it and when I tried to sidestep him the Prison Governor literally laughed me off the phone. It‘s pissing me right off but until I can find out who is copycatting his methods, I‘m guessing.”
“So you presuming it’s copycatting.”
“What else could it be?”
Y shrugged.
“Is there anything you want to tell me?” Shaft asked.
“I have a question, first,” Y said.
“Fire away.”
“Do you believe in Obeah, magic and things that go bump in the night?”
“Ah, the supernatural,” he grinned. “What a question, to ask me on a first date. Luckily for you my incomplete anthropology do
ctorate was on African Urban Mythology. And yes some people think so. But the theories tend to attribute those kinds of belief systems to our need to believe in something greater than ourselves. God, witchcraft, magical powers and that kind of thing are archetypes that have followed us into the twenty-first century from when we huddled around camp fires, telling horror stories. From my experience of tracking these urban myths in Southern Africa, I’ve been unable to categorically prove the existence of anything overtly supernatural but I did generate a shit load of unanswered questions.
“And your mind is made up?”
“I’m a detective and a scientist. I’m open to the possibilities.”
Y pursed her lips in contemplation at his answer.
“Who is Darkman?” She asked bluntly.
Shaft looked at her. He spoke slow and deliberately.
“Where did you hear that name?”
Shaft’s Adam’s apple rose up to under his chin and stayed there.
The words fell out of his mouth with more haste than he could conceal.
“Hey, if you don’t want to talk about this, I understand babe but …”
Her eyes flashed trepidation and fear. An almost imperceptible change in Y’s stance said she had just physically reinforced herself for a conflict that only existed in her head. She held onto his upper arm, her grip tight and stared into his eyes.
“I think your man Darkman is trying to kill our client.”
Completely out of context he kissed her on the lips and held her close.
There was no resistance.
He would figure out why he did it, later.
“Yow, yow, Y! Cut that shit out, man!” Patra shouted out to them with her solid cheeks glowing. “You got your grubby hands all over a nigga, damn. Crushing up his shirt and putting lipstick, all which ways over his shit.”
“Yeah, just cool, nuh.” Suzy added, promptly making parting movements with her arms like some overzealous Catholic nun chaperoning her girls at a mixed ed. dance. “Wi like him jus’ as he is. All neat and smooth.”
Shaft unclenched and looked at the two women approaching sheepishly. Y had left his embrace and joined her sisters over the short distance.
Patra
pulled up beside him and placed the bags at her heels.
Suzy
looked appraisingly at Shaft and locked her arms in his, speaking over her shoulder to Y.
“Yuh told him, nuh true?”
“He is as good a detective as we thought,” Y said, sounding apologetic. “But all the juicy bits I’ve left for you two to fill him in with.”
“Only fair,” Patra quipped and she took up her position on Shaft’s free arm.
Y called after them.
“I don‘t think he believes me, so you may have more luck co
nvincing him than I did.”
Shaft felt that familiar school boy flush when he was around them returning, he wondered how long he had to know them to be completely comfortable.
“You’re gonna dig this,” Patra said to Shaft excitedly, dragging him into a bistro and directing him to a table. Spokes sat loosely in a wicker chair, his fingers fondling the black trilby on his knee and an empty plate in front of him.
“Detective McFarlane, Spokes.” Patra introduced them then without further fanfare began her story with Suzy filling in the gaps. Shaft still could not bring himself to believe what he was hearing.
They had been talking to Shaft for the last twenty minutes and the warmth of Shaft’s kiss still lingered on her lips. Her heart felt languid and a spark of fuzzy heat exploded in her stomach as she savored the strong chemistry between them. But soon her mind was on other things and Y began hoping Shaft would be an ally in this craziness.
It felt like
Patra and Suzy had accepted this situation more easily than she had and after Sunday night’s clash with the undead, sleep was at a premium for her and nightmares showed no sign of abating either.
They
had killed that night.
Even if the assailants had
been drugged and bound by some spell, bent on taking their lives but having to kill did not rest well with any of them.
Maybe the reason why she was so keen to see Shaft believing in what they were going through was the importance of a shared experience from the perspective of someone with no vested i
nterest in this weirdness.
A
skeptic.
Spokes was paying them well
but it had become much more than that now. Y craved for a point of view outside of their trinity something or someone that could keep her balanced. Because the more situations they were exposed to in this brave new world the more the boundaries between the normal and incredible would wear thin.
And h
ow much more of her beliefs about the world could she see shattered? Maybe she would finally give in to the raging battle inside and fully accept it as part and parcel of her world.
Maybe.
It was these thoughts that occupied Y’s mind as she intercepted the girls, Spokes and Shaft as they left the bistro.
“We taking him home,” Suzy announced and Spokes accepted the verdict with a nod of his head.
“His head is all fucked up with the truth, our kind of truth.”
“I’ll walk you to the car.” Shaft had his hands on Y‘s shoulders and mirrored her uncertain steps playfully.
“Had enough from the tales of the Twilight Zone?” Y asked as they walked through the sliding doors to the car park.
“If I didn’t know you better I wouldn’t be wasting my time li
stening to this but...” he corrected himself. “You ladies are the most level headed people I know. Making head nor tail of this is difficult.”
They walked out onto level three and headed to section AF to where the limousine Spokes had hired was parked in the distance. Spokes, Y and Patra were just ahead as Suzy fell back beside Shaft.
“If I was yuh, I guess I wouldn’t believe it either but lucky for me I have my sisters. If dem convinced of anything then I’m a believer.”
“That can be dangerous, don’t you think, relying on a second party’s opinion and not the facts as you see it.”
“Normally I’d agree with yuh.” Suzy shrugged. “But I have an advantage. Anyway if you’ve seen some of dis evil with your own eyes, fought it with your hands and when you have a second to confirm it was real, yuh know yuh not going crazy.”
He nodded.
“Me an deh girls have dis connection ting. Hard to explain but when we decide to use it we can feel deh truth in most situations.”
“Why am I not surprised, by that?”
“There is hope for you yet, then Mas Winston,” Suzy said.
John-John the chauffeur jerked up from his newspaper as he saw the group approaching through his rear view mirror. Folding it self-consciously he neatly squeezed
it into the glove compartment and jumped out of the luxury car, using the keys to close it remotely.
He was a very courteous lad, who took the responsibility of giving his passengers the best customer experience he was cap
able of. As he straightened his ill fitting jacket around his thin frame, he walked briskly up to meet his passengers some way from the limo with extended hands to greet them all and relieve them of some of the baggage.
“Ladies, Sir.” He took as much as he could carry and without looking around, pointed to the Cadillac and pressed the door r
elease.
There was the char
acteristic bleep sound and the car shuddered violently as if a massive force was struggling to get out from under the hood. Everyone stopped and stared as a roar erupted from the interior. The big car bucked and twisted, the undercarriage screeching with the strain. There was an almighty boom and the car lifted from the ground engulfed in hungry red flames and bellowing black smoke. Another nerve shredding screech like a pterodactyl from prehistory and the nebulous smoke and flame formed the outlines of a hideous giant bird of prey. It emerged from the limousine like it was disgorging from a metallic egg, head first then wings. The dark phoenix screeched, and a geyser of car parts and concrete rose up with it, forming its body while its massive flapping wings were all flame and smoke.
Shaft’s mouth fell slack as the flame bird birthed itself in all its savage glory. The scorched and mangled limo fell apart like the shell of a giant misshapen egg. The bird of prey conflagration fixed them with its soulless lava red eyes. It flung its head back again and shrieked angrily, its massive wings span catching an easy
rhythm over the chaos, attempting to detach itself from it’s source – the burning car. It flapped its fiery wings to keep itself aloft, sending waves of baking convection currents over the distance to them. The heat was intense and stank of cooked meat, grease and molten metal.
“Jesuuus!
” Shaft murmured, stepping back.
It shrieked its f
rustration of being held in place to its source and in a huff the dark Phoenix suddenly shrunk back into the remnants of the vehicle, letting off a sonic boom of ear splitting proportions. Car windshields in the surrounding area cracked or exploded. The security alarms blared over the confusion, soon to be joined by the screams of human panic. Nobody could make sense of what had just happened. Even the bystanders who had seen it all would put it down to some elaborate hoax or reality TV for special effects experts. By the evening the reasons for it happening would be completely rational and sane.
For m
ost people at least.
As the smoke cleared, Bad II the Bone, Spokes and Shaft, stood up from their crouched positions, ears ringing, nerves frayed, u
nconsciously rooted to the ground, for fear that this was not all over.
Y held onto Shaft’s shoulders unsteadily from behind and he reached up with his trembling hand to touch hers.
“Seeing is believing, they say, right.” Y murmured.
Shaft could only nod.
1
8
.
Tuesday July 23rd
Red Ground Estates, Surrey
21.40
S
pokes’ ‘batty’ was clenching involuntarily hours after witnessing the fire bird destroying the limousine. For some reason even with the precognitive power his guard ring afforded him, it did not make him feel protected at all. His usual confidence had departed and look as he might through his mental rolodex, there were no sugar-coated platitudes he could pull forth to make him feel better.
This is war, Iyah.
Darkman knew who and where they were and from now on his demon lackeys would make their lives unbearable.
The girls sat silently watching Spokes uncomfortably twisting one moment and the next eyeing the more heart racing perfo
rmance of LL Cool J on the Blue Ray player. Spokes kept getting out of his seat with that pained expression on his face and pacing. The small motes of dust from his movements made it seem like friction was burning the fibers of the rag pile. His eyes darted over to four Louis Vitton cases that were packed beside the bay doors that overlooked his one acre garden. An overcoat was thrown neatly over them like the completion of some Turner prize exhibit with a deeper significance than was apparent to your reasoning mind.
Not so in this case.
His eyes made an awkward orbit as horrible images took on their own awful life for a moment. He settled on the girls for much longer and shook his head. A tangible air of relief that they were fine washed over him.
Look at dem, all cool and sexy, and they’ve saved mi rass life three times already.
How many more times?
“Suh, everbody alright den. Yuh want another drink girls?”
“For the fifth time,” Y said testily, “We’re fine.”
Spokes frowned.
“Don’t sweat it, Slick,” Patra consoled. “We made a deal to complete the job and we won’t welch on our promise.”
“Jus’ cool, Mas Spokes, we trying feh understand all dis. We are unprepared; not that anything could ever prepare us for this but wi have yuh back.”
He looked at Suzy fleetingly and smiled.
Y wasn’t so forgiving.
“Have you ever thought of us through this whole fucked up situation?”
“Tink of you?” he asked incredulously. “Widout you I‘d be six foot six!”
“I mean your plan. Have you considered our escape strategy in all this? How do we handle any backlash from you disappearing?”
“Y have a point king. We can’t just apologize to the Darkman,” Suzy added.
“Motherfucker doesn’t look like the forgiving type.” Patra said.
“You sista’s
have me all wrong. But that is not your fault. I’m responsible for dis. I should have been more upfront but I wasn‘t sure you would appreciate it.”
“Slick, baby. We appreciate the fuck out of this situation, trust me. There isn’t a goddamn thing you could tell us now that we wouldn’t believe.”
He smoothed the skin under his chin with his little finger, scratching the small shoots of grey bristle there.
“Ok, ok
.” He began. “I’ve explained to you that I hold dat dog Enoch responsible for my Idren Jimmy’s death. You already know his treasures are buried under the nightclub but there is something that he wants more than anyting else.”
“I don’t even want to guess what dat could be,” Suzy said.
Patra simply groaned.
“So you’re saying amongst these objects under the club we have something to leverage or protect ourselves from him.”
“See it deh sister Y, you have it,” he said triumphantly, slapping his hands together. “Mi nah leave you swinging in the wind, baby. I’ve had four years to research these things that lay hidden in the club and I tink I know what he wants. Dat will be my bargaining chip that will protect you from him. I’ve looked at this from every angle I know how.”
“What about
just cancelling the dance, going in and taking what you need under the cover of darkness?” Y asked.
Spokes laughed, shaking his head and rubbing his fingers through his curly greys.
Y glared at him and Patra was infected with the giggles.
“I was like yuh years ago, naive to the real world around me. Jimmy’s death and everyting surrounding it drew mi into this and I’ve had to learn the hard way how to navigate this journey.”
“So what are you saying?” Patra asked.
“Now Darkman has found me, we are
under his watchful eye. The only way is to throw him off deh scent. He’s at a disadvantage because physically he can’t be close to me because of this.” He pointed to the ring on his index finger. “Him also loses his full potential around deh gifted like you ladies.”
Y laughed nervously, not sure if he was exaggerating or ser
ious.
Spokes kept on.
“He will send his agents of night, no doubt about dat. And they come with their own set of rules but you sisters are mi key card.”
Spokes chewed on his lips nervously.
“You have been chosen by the powers that be to fulfill some works on deh earth plane. How or why, I don’t know but I’m gonna guess it will be revealed in the fullness of time. Deh ring goes a good kind of crazy around you but your true power is in the trinity - you three together. Yuh understan?”
Patra nodded then asked.
“We are weaker apart?”
“Yeah man.” Spokes said without hesitation. “Your powers are enhanced when you are together, true friendship, real sisterhood that requires more than a like on Facebook or a follow on Twitter. These are Old Testament powers, wraith of God type ting.
You are only touching on the surface of what you can do together.”
Suzy nodded
, eyes sparkling and Spokes cleared his throat.
“Darkman
is at his worst around you so we have to use that to our advantage. Then there are the crowds, deh bigger the better. Darkman will have to use his black magic in deh middle of all that spiritual static. I’m making it so that he has to stay away or his powers will be curtailed. The dance is necessary.”
“So we are truly your guardian angels?” Y stated
.
“The muscle and the magic,” Patra added.
“Spokes’ Angels, as I’ve always said,” the promoter grinned.
“Right now, I’m more concerned with the flesh and blood threat than anything else. Just help me through this and yuh can return to your lives much richer and free from repercussions. Dis will be over soon.”
The LL Cool J concert on the tube had been relegated to the background as once again another layer of this mystery was peeled away and another part of this nightmare world they lived in opened up revealing its horror and majesty in equal measure. The girls did not have a clue where Spokes’ plans would take them. They only knew that they would hold up their end of the bargain to the bitter end.
“It seems like you’ve become an OG in this mystic shit Slick,” Patra said.
“Believe mi Sister P, I wasn’t one for reading. The Bible sometimes and the racing section of my newspaper but all dat had to change when I found out what had been left in my care. I had to start again. Suh I went on my journey feh knowledge. I bought books and chatted with the experts and acquired a few tings on deh way to further open mi eyes.”
He paused considering what he was about to say or do next
as it would immerse them further into the rabbit hole. Involving them so deeply there was no hope of ever turning back.
He sighed.
“Oh, by the way Y,” Spokes said matter-o-factly. “Deh ring picked up something foreign and dark, when we met for the first time. I nevah said anything but as we are being honest, let mi start, how mi intend to continue.” He paused recalling a memory. “Not much of it was left staining yuh aura but it was obvious enough.”
“Staining my aura?” Y asked slowly.
“I mean someone placed a powerful glamour spell on you. I’m sensing a smell of honeysuckle and cedar wood from the ring.” He paused. “It was a breddah that did it, someone who spent a lot of time with you. Not too bad feh an amateur it looked like he realised you ladies are immune to long term magic. He had to stay close to top it up from time to time, to prolong deh effect. He used music, a guitar to reinforce the spell.”
Y looked on bemused and Suzy’s eyebrows raised but the pe
nny dropped elsewhere in the room.
“Son-of-a-bitch,” said Patra slowly looking at them. “You mean Tyrone is Harry Potter?”
A stunned silence descended on them as the door of clarity was flung wide open.
Moments later Spokes kept the surprises coming.
“Let me show you someting.”
He motioned for the girls to follow him and he led them out of the room along the immaculately set white landing that looked down into the entrance hall two storey’s down; bypassing the concealed lift and heading down the vast marble stairs with Bad II the Bone in tow.
“I’ve never shown anyone this before. Never been able to let anybody in feh fear they could get hurt. There isn‘t anyting much you girls have not seen and you have kept your wits about you. I don’t think there are no better people to show dis to.”
Y looked at Patra ominously making the American shrug. Suzy was eager to see what the revelation would be but maintained that cool demeanor. They continued down to the lower ground floor, passing the steam room, massage rooms and the well equipped gym on the way. Then the house’s whole aesthetic changed and there was no doubt at this juncture that they had come face to face with their intended destination. This hallway was more hi-tech than the rest of the house, lined with frosted glass and sanded steel, the lighting was subdued and embedded into the concrete supports activating like a runway as you passed them. At the end was a reinforced door, glinting dully from two spot lights shining down on a keypad and a menacing Omni cam attached to a stalk like a poisonous black fruit.
Whatever was behind it was meant to be protected and concealed.
Spokes shouldered his way to the front and steadily punched in a six digit code, the edges of a chrome pad lit up and he placed his thumb on it. He waited for an affirmative beep, beep and heard the heavy cylindrical bolts retract. He pulled on the vault door to open it, servo motors assisting his efforts to swing it open and the ceiling lights inside the room flickered on. Patra peered over Spokes’ shoulders and whistled. He stepped to the side and motioned them in. Without hesitation Patra strode forward.
The inside was reminiscent of a surgical theatre with a temperature that suited its look and feel.
Chilled.
Chrome book shelves lined the walls, filled with contrasting tomes on metaphysics and magic, sorcery, voodoo and occult history. Like an art exhibition dedicated to all things mystical. There were photographs encapsulated in chrome frames attached to the ceiling and floor with wires and oil portraits hung on the walls with magical scenes possibly painted by grand masters. Set centrally around a glass tube that skewered the room was a three quarters circular marble desk, forty inch monitor, keyboard, printers and a Wrexham executive chair. Behind his work station and inside the tube was an chrome and glass constructed lift that could barely accommodate three people and serviced some levels below. One end of the room ended in a wall of glass from floor to ceiling and that seemed to attract Patra’s attention. She wandered over while Suzy and Y were looking at books and stared intrigued at the photographs and items housed in glass cases. Spokes stood with his hands in his pockets and said nothing, letting them discover for themselves what had lain hidden here ever since their arrival.
“Motherf...” Patra sprang back from the glass wall and looked over to Spokes with a perplexed wide eyed stare.
Obviously expecting a reaction sooner or later, Spokes ambled over to where Patra was, Suzy and Y behind him.
“This shit you got to see,” Patra said to the others, who both plastered their faces onto the exceptionally cold partition peering inside. Moments later Y stepped away with a look of disgust on her face and turned her gaze at Spokes accusingly.
“He’s dead. Well in deh clinical sense, so don’t get jumpy,” Spokes said. “Let me introduce you to my pardy Jimmy Éclair.”
Spokes’ hand hovered over a light-switch and the gruesome e
xhibit sprang to life from the subtle ceiling lights.
Y shivered involuntarily and for some reason the frailty of her existence buckled in on her and the simple pleasures of ignorance evaporated with every new revelation. She wanted to return to what she knew before but couldn’t.
“He’s at peace,” Suzy said, her face still close to the glass, condensation smearing it. “I can feel him.”
“I’m feeling him too, he’s a handsome nigga,” Patra nodded and put her forehead to the glass again.
“He’s so well preserved - almost as if he was alive.” Y said.
Most of the body was enclosed in a jump suit made from some aluminium type material that was punctured by hundreds of leads that looked electrical and others that were liquid carrying capilla
ries. His face was the only part of him that was completely visible and that was slightly frosted from the cold inside.