Balance - Book one

  * * *

  When morning came my stomach had set itself into a permanent knot. Outside the persistent buzz of the city was my personal alarm clock.

  I stood, drew open the curtains and allowed the sunlight to warm my body. It was an action I’d probably not done since I was a pre-teen.

  Before me the street was alive with pulsing activity.

  By the time I headed for the kitchen Benny had departed. I made coffee, drank it in silence, and prayed that the phone would ring; that someone, anyone, would call and wish me good luck.

  It was a ridiculous desire of course, since not a soul knew where I was. Regardless, I glanced at the phone with longing.

  Twenty minutes later I left to meet my fate.

  The journey was lost in hazy obscurity, a trip down familiar roads that felt surreal. Upon arriving outside the now familiar gate, it was much like I had simply teleported to my destination.

  I pulled my car into the parking spot, climbed out, and spotted Jenny waiting on the steps. Before proceeding I took a moment; standing in the sunlight and closing my eyes to once again feel the warmth on my face.

  “When I feel this sunlight again,” I told myself, letting out a deep breath, “I will have banished my demon.”

  I got no response but the musical twittering of nearby birds and decided to accept the sweet sound as a good omen.

  The event could be put off no longer and I approached Jenny.

  “Mister Clarence.”

  “Hello Jenny.”

  I expected her to turn and lead me inside, but she held her ground, regarding me from the top step. “There is something I must ask, Mister Clarence. It is a formality, but something I have learned to take very seriously.”

  “Yes?”

  “Did you fill out your application forms in their entirety?”

  I thought back to the mountain of paper handed to me by Claudia. “I believe so.”

  “In case of an unforeseen mishap,” she continued, not succeeding in holding eye contact, “whom would you prefer I contacted?”

  It was the worst possible time I could have been asked that question. I had no answer. Would my mother care if I were injured or killed? Would she care as a mother? Perhaps. Perhaps not. One thing was sure though; Benny would care. And so would Brent.

  “I would like you to tell Benny Kingston,” I answered at last, “His name is not on my application form, but I believe Selena will know how to contact him.”

  “As you wish, Mister Clarence.”

  We entered and proceeded to the main hall. Jenny gave me a final nod, “I wish you the best,” and exited.

  Inside, as before, the couch and seat had been shifted to the back of the hall. And, as before, Selena stood waiting. Only this time she had traded in her formal business-wear for loose fitting jeans and a t-shirt, hair tied back in a hasty ponytail.

  “Good morning, Jet.”

  “Hello, Selena.”

  “Please, approach.”

  I did so, my stomach tying into an ever tighter knot with each echoing footstep.

  “I’m nervous,” I declared as I took a position beside her, “I don’t think I’m ready. Maybe we should put it off till later…”

  “There is no later, Jet. It is now. I do not think either of us will be happy to take responsibility should there be another incident. It is very likely someone may be injured.”

  It was the truth and I knew it.

  Only then did I realise I was trembling. Shaking so badly you might believe us in below zero temperatures. Despite everything, I managed to feel ashamed to be in such a state before Selena’s own solid steel composure. My eyes fell to floor.

  “Jet Clarence.” She turned to me, lifting my face with an index finger under the chin.

  I looked at her and my breath caught in my throat. She was smiling. An expression so genuine I reconsidered my stance on the word “love”. In that moment she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

  “You can do this,” she said, “I have never sent anyone to fate of which I was not certain. You can do this, I believe it.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “As well you should be. Fear is not a handicap, it is an aid. I will be by your side.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Be the mirror, Jet. Be the mirror that is a demon’s bane. Everything else is just illusion. Accept the demon, and it will no longer have room to exist.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “You will succeed.”

  Then her hand was caressing my cheek and my heart nearly exploded. I was no longer shaking.

  She stepped back and nodded. “Call it forth.”

  It was time.

  I turned to face the windows and dropped to my knees. The curtains, pure white and glowing in the sunlight, heaved on the breeze, looking almost like living things. I let my eyes focus on them.

  Internally I reached for a flimsy barrier created not a few hours ago. Behind it memories and emotions churned and frothed, building in power as they fought to be free.

  It took no conscious command. As if by decision of its own, the barrier collapsed.

  The illuminated edge of a curtain appeared to be pronouncing the outline of a human torso; as if someone were standing watching me. The more I looked the clearer the figure became, gaining substance and detail from the window frame behind.

  The demon stepped forward, the penetrating sunlight making an unnatural silhouette of its form.

  “Stay focused, Jet,” Selena whispered, “Remember, running from the lion is a declaration of wanting to be prey.”

  I nodded, took a deep breath and slipped into my place of calm, hours of practice paying off.

  Before me the silhouette took a step forward.

  “State your intention,” Selena said, “Declare your challenge.”

  I centred my focus and spoke. “Be still.” It did not move. “Now be gone from here, creature. I no longer wish your presence.”

  In response a silence descended, so complete that it seemed to occupy the space around me. Behind the silhouette the curtains continued their graceful dance.

  A sound drifted forward, deep and guttural, like the croak of a frog from a device with low batteries.

  “I said…”

  But the sentence remained unfinished.

  The silhouette melted into a crouch in one unnaturally fluid motion and then it was coming scampering towards me on all fours. Arms and legs pelted the ground in a grotesque imitation of a nightmare spider, a sound, finger nails clicking on marble, following in its wake.

  Fast. Nothing that existed in the physical world should have been able to move with such speed.

  “Stay strong, Jet!”

  She had barely managed the words before it was on top of me, the light blue face hovering inches from my own.

  But it did not attack. Instead, arms cocked at a right angle and legs splayed in directions impossible for the human hip, it stared at me.

  A miracle kept me from screaming. And in an achievement that can only be described as legendary, my place of calm held.

  I stared back. Its unblinking eyes, glass orbs threaded with a million crimson veins, were boring into my own.

  Then the world was contracting.

  This time, I did not initiate the spell. It was the work of my demon.

  My stomach lurched. Across the room, the sunlight retreated into the shadows…

  The room was familiar. Beneath my shoes the shaggy brown carpet looked up like an old friend.

  To my left came a click and I turned. Gran and mother were at the dining room table playing dominoes. Remarkably gran did not seem to have benefited from the ten year face lift; the only notable difference was a slight decrease in the amount of wrinkles that surrounded her mouth. My mother on the other hand looked almost to be a teenager.

  I watched them for a moment, then knowing what I would see before I did so, I crouched. Beneath the table was a child, head resting on arms.

  “Hello,?
?? I said to him.

  He raised his head and looked at me. “Hello.”

  “Why are you under the table? Don’t you want to play dominoes?”

  He shook his head. “No. I don’t know how to play.”

  “Why are you under the table?”

  “I like it here,” he said with a smile, “It’s safe.”

  “It doesn’t work that way, Liza.”

  This voice came from above and I stood.

  “If you push too hard the mind will reject the information. Easy does it.”

  “So you’ve said a thousand times,” my mother responded, “And I keep telling you its too many people. Do you understand how many customers can fit into a restaurant of that size?”

  “Nonsense, too many is an illusion.”

  “If one slips; they all slip. Then I have a riot on my hands. Chaos!”

  “Liza,” said gran firmly, clicking a domino into place with sharp finality, “you are quite capable. Might I remind you this was your idea?”

  This closed mother’s mouth. From beneath the table came a shuffle as the child adjusted his position.

  “Now, tell me about this place,” said gran at last.

  “It’s called The Sushi Palace.”

  “The Sushi Palace?” Apparently gran did not think much of sushi.

  “Very popular with the wealthy.”

  “Ah.” That sentiment appeared more attractive, “How soon?”

  “My loan will be approved shortly.”

  “The bank manager?”

  “A mind of jelly.”

  “Good girl.” Gran said, smiling warmly and patting mother’s hand.

  They shared a moment, gazing at each other in what appeared to be genuine affection. But I had a hunch that this moment was not so different from the one I had witnessed between my mother and Linda.

  The moment was shattered as a figure entered from the kitchen. I shifted to get a look and was astonished to see nothing but a silhouette where a person should be. In either hand the silhouette held a glass of wine.

  “Refreshment, ladies,” the shadowy figure said. Distantly I recognised the voice.

  “On the table please,” my mother said shortly. She glanced up and a smile curled up her lips. For a moment I thought she too was seeing an empty shape, but her eyes told me different. “Oh! I see you’ve dressed for the occasion. Look, Fran, look how nice Carl looks.”

  Gran looked up at the silhouette and she too smiled. “Oh yes, very sharp. Not overdressed for a work function?”

  “Not at all,” Carl replied with a chuckle, “Everyone will be wearing a tuxedo. It’s the name of the game, sort of a tradition.”

  The silhouette shifted, bleeding shadows like ink underwater, and then Carl was wearing a tuxedo. However the face was still in darkness.

  He stepped forward to place the drinks on the table and one foot got caught the edge of the carpet. The silly thing, dad had never got round to fixing it. Then, in some insane cinematic slow motion, he was falling forward, the glasses flying from his hands and spraying fans of red wine. His head caught the edge of the table, an event accompanied by a sound like a watermelon colliding with cement.

  “For goodness sakes!” the words were gran’s. She stood, shaking red liquid from her arms.

  “Carl!” That was mother, her voice near hysterical. “Carl?! Are you okay?”

  She stepped forward and crouched to help him, rolling his body onto its back. Above his left eye, positioned in the shadow that still represented his face, a gash oozed blood.

  “Oh shit,” he groaned, and now there were glassy eyes in the darkness.

  “Fran,” my mother said, “I think we may need to call a doctor. This looks serious.”

  “Nonsense,” gran snorted, now wiping wine from her blouse with a napkin.

  In a flash Carl had both hands around my mother’s neck. She gagged, tongue protruding between red lips in a sinister imitation of an idiot’s mockery, but managed to grasp both of his wrists. There was a loud SNAP and his grip loosened. She pulled free, stumbling backwards as hacking gasps tore from her mouth.

  “He’s free!” gran roared, “He’s free Liza, get him back!”

  But my mother was in no position to obey.

  Carl was on his feet, pulling at his hair in horror, “Oh God! Oh God!”

  He was indeed free.

  “Oh God!” he shrieked, “It’s not real! None of it is real! Oh God!”

  “Liza!” Gran hissed.

  But he was already lunging, hands outstretched to finish their job on my mother’s neck. “You witch! Get out of my head!”

  Gran did not hesitate. A bolt the size of a snooker ball hit Carl in the lower back. There was a sound like a branch breaking underfoot as his spine crumbled. He went to the ground and immediately attempted to stand, but his legs were no longer his own.

  There was an awkward moment as he flailed on the spot, looking similar to a fish out of water. But then that too was beyond his physical means and he lay still.

  My mother took in one more ragged gasp. All at once she was furious. Again she took a position crouching next to Carl. “Oh for heaven’s sake! You didn’t have to do that, mother! Now look at him!”

  “If you kept him under control this would not be a problem,” gran replied.

  “You had no right to touch him,” my mother snapped. She turned and threw a venomous look over her shoulder, receiving nothing but a scowl from gran in return.

  “You let him slip,” gran barked, “That’s putting everyone at risk. You know the rules, Liza. You got lazy, this is what happens.”

  “Nonsense! Absolute nonsense! He was no harm to anyone and you know it!”

  “For goodness sakes, stop acting like it’s the end of the world.”

  “Mommy…” This word came from the child; a mewling whimper. He had crawled from under the table and was now standing beside me.

  I, the present me, stepped forward and looked down at the body, arms sprawled.

  There was silence as my mother and grandmother looked at the child.

  “What is it, Jet?” my mother asked.

  “What’s wrong with dad?”

  The shadows cleared. My father, mouth slowly opening and closing as he took his last breaths, was dying beneath me.

  “He’s dead.”

  “Dead?”

  “Yes.” My mother regarded me with unsympathetic eyes.

  “Oh.”

  Already his face was turning blue as the life left him. And his eyes, once the purest blue, were fogging with a cloud of red veins.

  All at once he was dead.

  There was another long silence. Then gran stood and walked towards me.

  “You’re playing with fire,” she growled.

  I was screaming. From the very pit of my stomach I was screaming.

  She killed my father she killed my father she killed my father…

  And screaming and screaming and screaming.

  Around me in the shape and size of a large wagon wheel the marble floor first cracked, then fractured. Chunks the size of footballs levitated weightless into the air.

  The demon rose with them, its limbs slashing pointlessly.

  “Jet! Jet!” But not even Selena’s voice held significance in that moment.

  Still I screamed.

  And the wagon wheel grew larger, more marble shattered, splitting clear across the room and climbing the walls like vines. In front of me the windows exploded outwards, drawing the curtains into frantic ribbons.

  “Jet! Jet! Stop it!”

  Another scream, louder, my body was taut, arms extended on either side of me and fists clenched. I threw back my head and sound tore from me like a thousand wrenching freight trains.

  Above the ceiling split, two enormous slabs shifting apart. Clouds of dust and rivers of debris rained down.

  The demon was launched upwards as a wave went rolling out like a crackling ocean, the concussion sending marble shrapnel shooting in all direct
ions.

  Raw energy, rising from between the cracked marble, was shimmering and snapping, accompanied by a sound of gale force winds.

  “Jet! Jet!” Her voice was now shrieking above the unbearable noise.

  I was struck from behind and suddenly airborne. The cracked floor came up to hit me in the face.

  Selena was standing over me.

  “What are you?” she said.

  As I lost consciousness the roaring subsided.