The Dark Detective: Venator (11 page)

“I’ll guard you with my life,” said Max seriously. “Although I’d rather it didn’t come to that.”

“You’re a good man, Max, darling,” whispered Sophie. “It’s one of the reasons I’ve always loathed you... not now, of course. Not now that we’re on the same team.”

Max just smiled. “It’s all right, Sophie. I know what you mean.”

The taxi was stuck in a traffic jam on Broadway, so Max decided to walk the rest of the way to the office.

“I’ll get out here,” said Max. “Just tell the driver where you want to be dropped and charge it to the Yard. We’ll meet up tomorrow morning.”

“But Max!” said Sophie quickly. “You said you’d look after me. Besides, I’ve got nowhere to go. I can hardly go back to my old lair – my friends will rather frown on the fact that I’m working for the forces of light now. Can’t I come with you? Please?”

Whether it was the fact that Sophie was the Saviour of the world, or that Max was too tired to argue, he found himself agreeing to be accompanied back to Scotland Yard by a beautiful but deadly Level Two Chava demon.

When they reached the blue door, Max hesitated.

“I don’t even know if you’ll be able to cross the threshold,” said Max, frowning. “It’s got protection spells all round the building.”

“Oh,” said Sophie, looking worried. “What will happen?”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t know,” said Max, shrugging his shoulders. “And I don’t know how to find out. You could wait outside whilst I check some of my reference books – but that could take a while.”

“Oh, really! You mean I have to wait at the backdoor like some tradesman! No thank you!”

“Do you have a better suggestion?” said Max, equally annoyed.

“Yes! I’m going to find the nearest four-star hotel, take a room and charge it to you. I won’t be left in the street like yesterday’s laundry.”

“I thought you were worried about being a demon-sized, Saviour-of-the-World-type snack,” said Max, roughly.

Sophie’s enchanting eyes flashed dangerously then filled with unexpected tears.

“Oh, M-M-Max! Don’t leave me. I don’t know what I’d do, all alone.”

“Cut it out, Sophie. You’re a demonic killer, not my maiden aunt.”

“Fine!” she snapped back, her tears drying instantly. “Fine! Try and save the world by yourself, see if I care!” And she turned her back on him and marched away.

Max was glad to see the back of her then he reminded himself that the PTBs had sent her to help him – and if what the Professor said was true, he needed help big time.

He sighed and ran after her. He took her icy hand in his and pulled her back.

“Look, Sophie! I’m sorry, okay? It’s been a long day. Let me just make a quick call – that should settle the problem.”

“It better had be quick,” she said viciously. “I’m losing my community spirit.”

Max rolled his eyes but said nothing. Instead he pulled out his mobile phone and dialled. His conversation was short and tetchy but instructive.

“Well?” said Sophie, drumming her talons against the door’s blue paint. “Can I come in or not?”

“Yes,” said Max, sounding relieved. “You can come in.”

“And I won’t burn up in a cloud of garlic or whatever archaic protection spells have been used?”

“No, Sophie, you’ll be fine. Trust me.”

“Huh, ‘trust me’, he says. The man who had me killed just less than 24 hours ago.”

“Are you coming in or not?” said Max, holding open the door but looking as if he’d like to slam it into her beautiful face.

Sophie took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold, half expecting to be struck down with a bolt of lightning at any second.

She was visibly relieved to be standing in one piece inside the corridor without so much as a singe mark.

“So,” she said, looking around. “This is the inner sanctum. I must admit in my mind it was rather more glamorous.”

“It’s a police station, Sophie, not a designer boutique. Get used to it.”

He led her to his office, ignoring the curious glances of some of the other police officers who were wandering around the cavernous building. One of the WPCs looked particularly miffed.

Max unlocked his office door and pointed to one of the empty desks.

“Here,” he ordered. “Sit.”

Sophie shot him a villainous look but Max ignored her and swept the pile of old newspapers from her desk and into the recycling box.

Sophie extracted a small tissue from her minute clutch bag and daintily dusted down the office chair before deigning to sit.

Max had to bite back the comment that naturally arose.

“By the way,” said Sophie, ignoring his expression, “Who did you call about the protection spells?”

Max screwed up his face in disgust. “I phoned the Professor.”

“Really? Why did you think he would know?”

Max sighed.

“Because he has protection spells all over his house and I figured they’d be the same as the ones here. You didn’t end up as a ball of fire there, so I guessed you’d be safe here.”

“You... you... you... but... but...!” stuttered Sophie. “You mean I could have been burned into all eternity at the Professor’s house and you never said anything?”

“Sorry,” said Max, trying not to smile. “I forgot.”

“You forgot!” screeched Sophie, looking more demonic than human for a change: it might have been the green glow that emanated from her skin. “You forgot! You’re supposed to protect me... you... idiotic excuse for a human being!”

“Calm down, Sophie,” said Max. “You’re in one piece, aren’t you, so there’s nothing to worry about. Just forget it.”

“I shan’t forget it, Maximilian,” she said, her eyes blazing. “Oh, I shan’t forget it until Hell freezes over – something I happen to know has only ever happened once in 4.55 billion years.”

“Does this mean we can’t be friends anymore?” said Max with blatant insincerity. It was more fun that he’d expected having Sophie around.

Max flung his overcoat over the spare desk. Sophie jumped back, startled.

“Your c-c-coat,” she said, looking nervous instead of angry.

“What about it?” said Max sounding puzzled.

“It’s got the Eye of Horus embroidered inside it,” whispered Sophie.

“Yeah, so what?”

“So what?! It’s a powerful protection spell,” said Sophie. “Very powerful. I don’t like it. Please hang it on your side of the office – away from me.”

Max had to smile. Demons were
so
superstitious.

It didn’t take long for Sophie to recover her composure.

“What shall I do now, Max, darling?” she said.

“Er... I dunno,” said Max, who wasn’t used to having company in his office, not since Kennet. He was reading through his few emails in the hope that there would be some useful information. He nodded at the computer on the other desk. “You can use that if you like.”

“Oh, how exciting!” gushed Sophie. “I’ve always wanted to experience one of these dread machines.”

She held up her hands above the computer and said, “Revelo!”

The computer’s screen stayed obstinately blank.

“It’s broken,” pouted Sophie.

Max sighed again. Could this day get any stranger – or longer?

“Sophie, it’s a computer, not a mystical tome. You have to turn it on. See, press that button to start it and this button to turn on the screen.”

He spent the next quarter of an hour teaching Sophie the rudiments of using a computer and internet search tools. She learned quickly and was particularly intrigued by the online celebrity gossip forums.

“She’s a demon, you know,” said Sophie, pointing out a well-known TV personality. “I mean, it’s just obvious. Horn-ectomy – as plain as the fangs on her face. Make-up really can do amazing things these days. She could be the Great Evil... except she’s probably too stupid. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a bit of Level One in there somewhere.”

Max tried to ignore her and got on with searching for signs of the Mother. There were a couple of possibilities: an actress who’d started her own cult, a celebrity chef who extolled the environmental virtues of eating road-kill – like badgers and hedgehogs (Max’s stomach heaved), and a woman who’d won a chain of hotels on a last roll of the dice in a Las Vegas casino: vague ideas but nothing conclusive.

“Oh, please! If she’s a natural blonde then I’m a nun,” said Sophie, pointing at the screen which was currently displaying a photograph of foreign politicians. I bet if I searched for some childhood photographs they’d show her as a brunette.”

“Does it matter?” said Max wearily.

“Of course it matters,” said Sophie. “She’s lying to the public – and she’s a politician. I think that’s just appalling.”

Max was finding Sophie’s born-again morality rather hard to take. He took the practical route and kept his mouth shut.

“That’s odd,” said Sophie several minutes later. She was frowning. “I can’t find any childhood photographs of her. Not a single one.”

“What’s odd about that?” said Max, who really couldn’t care less. “Her staff have probably just removed them from the internet.”

“Not possible,” said Sophie. “I know the demon who started the internet and he’d never allow that to happen.”

“Pardon?” said Max, who wondered if he’d heard correctly. “A demon runs the internet?”

“Of course,” said Sophie, shrugging. “How else could rumour, falsehood and misinformation be so easily spread? Oh, Max, darling, do try and keep up with the times.”

Max thought this was a bit rich coming from someone who’d never used a computer up till half an hour ago. But it made sense. Sort of.

It was disconcerting to think that demons could access computer files across the world. Well, not Max’s – his security code was a bit more than just keying in the name of his childhood pet. Being safe rather than sorry was one of the things that kept him alive. He rubbed his eyes; trying to keep them open, let alone focussed, was getting harder.

“I’ve found her!” yelped Sophie, a few minutes later. “I’ve found her!”

“What? Who?” said Max, who’d just been dozing over his keyboard. “Who have you found?”

“The Summoner; the one who’ll call the Mother! The Great Evil the book mentioned! It’s her, I’m sure of it!” said Sophie, sounding awestruck.

She pointed at the picture of the female politician whom she’d accused of lying about her natural hair colour.

A cold feeling oozed through Max. He swallowed uncomfortably. “What makes you think she’s the one who’ll raise the Mother? Apart from lying about dyeing her hair.”

“It all fits,” said Sophie. “Remember what the book said, ‘she will become the leader of many’? Well, this woman – or creature – is the President Elect of the United States of America. She’ll be the first female President of the Free World in two weeks. If that’s not what you call a powerful leader, I don’t know what is.”

“That makes her powerful,” said Max, “but it doesn’t make her the Summoner.”

“Well, there’s the fact that there are no photographs of her as a child,” said Sophie, insistently. “That’s because she probably never was a child, or, at least not for several centuries.”

“Look,” said Max, patiently. “The most talked about woman on the planet cannot invent a whole past and not have anyone discover the deception.”

“Oh, Max, really!” sniffed Sophie. “Don’t be so naive: demons do it all the time and nobody ever notices – well, hardly ever. You just have to know what you’re looking for.”

“There
are
people who know what they’re looking for in the USA,” said Max. “My counterpart is in the CIA at Langley. He’d have told me if there was a problem.”

“Heard from him lately?” said Sophie, casually, staring at something on her computer screen.

“Er...” said Max, trying to think of when he’d last heard from Walter J. Caspar.

“Perhaps a month or so?” said Sophie.

“Yep. That would be about right,” said Max happily. “He phoned to ask me about azurite; I haven’t had a chance to get back to him. How did you know?”

Sophie swung her computer screen to face him.

There was a small black-and-white photograph of Walter J. Caspar with the headline ‘Top Tec in Jail Shock’. The article went on to describe how Walter J. had been arrested for making threats to the President Elect shortly before she was due to open a new shopping mall in Omaha.

Max looked in horror.

“Walter said he was doing a VIP guard duty,” he stuttered. “He must have been guarding this Bruce woman. It looks like something went wrong! Why didn’t he tell me what he knew – or what he thought he knew? Why would he ask me about azurite out of the blue like that? What if it’s the second ‘charm’ that the book mentioned? And if he had it, whoever got to him must have it. What’s the betting the Bruce woman hasn’t already got the azurite and now she’s after the amulet, too?”

The sudden activity in Max’s brain was almost enough to power a small city. He sat up, looking like he’d been electrocuted. He stared at Sophie, his eyes wide.

“Which is why the Brood were so keen to get their claws on it,” finished Sophie quietly.

Max read the article in deepening horror. It certainly explained why Walter J. had been so tense when they’d spoken on the phone. Max also knew that it wasn’t possible for the news story to be entirely true. If Walter J. really did have more than a few suspicions about the President Elect, he wouldn’t have made public threats. But right now, with Walter J. being held in a secure facility for violent psychopaths, there was no way for Max to find out the truth. He should have realised something was wrong – Walt didn’t usually phone up just to chat. He’d had something on his mind. Max wished he’d told him his suspicions.

But worse was to come. The article airily mentioned that Walter J. had not been replaced – there was no-one watching the demons in Washington. This was serious.

“That doesn’t prove that this woman – this Lily Temple Bruce – is the one who’ll raise the Mother,” said Max.

“Well, if you don’t think the ‘Temple’ part of her name is a clue, maybe this will persuade you: her maiden name was Lily Sabnac. She says she got that from her French-Canadian father, but actually it’s another spelling of ‘Sabnock’. I know this Sabnock – he’s a demon and he doesn’t get out of bed for less than 10,000 souls a day. But I reckon she’s just using his name as a cover. Humans who like to play with a bit of dark magicks do that all the time. It’s
so
last century.”