The Dark Detective: Venator

  It had been built for Queen Caroline in 1735. The Lodge was described in the guidebooks to London as a ‘summerhouse’. Max knew that the genteel Palladian building was on a much older site that wasn’t mentioned in the tourist literature.

  In fact the summerhouse was built on top of an oval mound. To archaeologists, this was a sign that it was a place of worship, often going back to the Bronze Age or late Neolithic. It had always amused Max to see how many Christian churches had been built on the sites of pagan prayer. Now he knew why.

  Those early humans had certainly been far more in touch with their instincts than their more sophisticated and civilized modern brethren. Today only a few people were able to sense the power that flowed from these places. A feeble but noteworthy attempt had been made to link them by plotting ley lines in the 1920s. Demonologists and people like Max knew they were less than accurate and demons even made jokes about them. But now and then, Alfred Watkins, the Edwardian ley line expert, had hit a home run. One of the most powerful ley lines ran through the Biblical town of Armageddon in modern-day Israel. Another one led directly along the Mall between Buckingham Palace and Charing Cross. It made Max wonder about the Royal Family, but Kennet had been unable – or unwilling – to answer that particular question.

  The Temple was silent and in darkness.

  “Hello?” said Max.

  His voice seemed to vanish into the night.

  Max was beginning to feel like he’d been taken for a ride. Maybe the note hadn’t been from the PTBs after all, although he couldn’t imagine how anyone else could have managed to break his window: it was protected by so many spells, charms and amulets. Maybe the note with the Latvian Rock Monster was a threat, not an invitation.

  Cautiously, Max used his mystical key to open the door to the summerhouse. He stood in the centre, gazing up at the decorated ceiling. The place was clearly empty.

  Suddenly the ground started to tremble and the windows of the old building rattled alarmingly. Max had to grab hold of a conveniently placed pillar to prevent himself being thrown to the floor.

  Max decided to make a run for it – the old building would collapse if it continued to be shaken like that.

  Max had one foot over the threshold when a brilliant green flame sprang up from the centre of the Temple, followed by a crash of red lightning. Then there was silence.

  Max blinked hard, his eyes trying to adjust to the blinding light and sudden darkness that followed.

  He could tell that a figure was sitting in the centre of the Temple. Slowly it got to its feet, staggering slightly. Max jumped backwards, weapons at the ready.

  “Max, darling! Don’t shoot! It’s me – Sophie.”

  What?!

  “Sophie? What on earth are you doing here? I terminated you!” Max’s voice shook slightly.

  “Yes, and that wasn’t very nice of you,” said Sophie, sounding annoyed.

  “You did try to eat me,” said Max, reasonably.

  “You humans get huffy over the silliest things,” Sophie complained.

  They paused.

  “So,” said Max slowly, “how did you get here? And where have you been?”

  He’d never known a terminated demon to come back; he hadn’t even known it was possible. Kennet had certainly never mentioned it.

  Sophie flicked some ash from her dress. Max could see that she was rather singed around the edges.

  “Well, Max, darling. You should know, seeing as you terminated me and sent me back there.”

  “Where, exactly?” said Max, his eyes watching her warily.

  “Down Under, darling. The Nether Regions. Hell! You sent me to Hell. And I didn’t like it very much. I had to queue for decades to get my Passport the last time I got a visa for Earth: you should have seen the queues at immigration. At least this time they put me in the Business Class queue. A much nicer way to travel.”

  Max hoped he didn’t look as confused as he felt.

  “So, er, why the First Class treatment?”

  “Yes, well, there’s always a catch, isn’t there?”

  “Such as?”

  “I’ve been sent to help you, Max, darling. I’m your new assistant.”

  Max’s brain was doing somersaults trying to keep up.

  “My new assistant?” he said, faintly.

  “Yes, yes,” said Sophie, sounding impatient. “And I’ve had to sign a Blood Oath that I won’t try to eat you or kill you, harm you or charm you in any way. And believe me, it’s worth my while keeping that promise. Hell is so very dull these days – full of politicians and lawyers. Shall we go then?”

  Max thought he was losing his mind.

  “Hang on! You just hang on one minute,” he shouted. “You’ve been sent to help me?”

  “Yes! I just told you that,” she huffed impatiently. “Do try and keep up, Max, darling.”

  She shook some soot from her hair.

  “Who sent you?”

  Sophie stared at him wide-eyed with surprise. “The Powers That Be, of course! Who else? I thought they were going to send you a memo to explain everything?”

  Max blinked. It was hard to take in what she was saying.

  “So... you’ve been sent by the PTBs to help me terminate the Brood? You’re the one who’s supposed to balance up the powers of good and evil. You. A Level Two demon?”

  “It’s a funny old world, isn’t it?” said Sophie, laughing softly. “I wonder what it’ll feel like – being on the side of light for a change. Mind you, it was fun killing off that last nest of Brood.”

  A demonic gleam flared in her eyes and Max felt a chill of fear weave itself into his heart. He squared his shoulders.

  “I think I’d like to see this Blood Oath you signed,” he said.

  There was a sudden bang overhead and a piece of parchment shot up from the ground, wreathed in the same green flames that had escorted Sophie.

  “Ask and ye shall receive,” muttered Sophie.

  Keeping his eyes on Sophie, Max bent to pick up the parchment. It was written in an attractive copperplate hand. It stated that:

  “Sophie Dinah Judas, Level Two Chava Demon is herewith commanded to aid, abet, assist and obey the human Maximilian Cyrus Darke, Detective, for as long as he so wishes.

  She is further commanded to obey the laws of the Earth and to forego the decapitation and blood-letting of any human, or assist in any way the demise of said humans, unless specifically instructed by Detective Darke – on pain of perpetual termination.

  Signed,

  The Powers That Be.”

  The paper smouldered in Max’s hands and gently disintegrated into a fine dust.

  “Satisfied?” said Sophie. “I really think you might have taken my word for it, after all the years we’ve known each other.”

  Max felt too bewildered to remind her again that the last time they’d met, she’d turned on him with the intention of ripping him limb-from-limb and chewing on the leftovers.

  She watched his face curiously.

  “You must have some big time mojo working for you, Max, darling, to bring me back, either that or...”

  She left the words unsaid but Max suddenly understood: something Really Bad was coming. First the Brood had ridden into town; then Ralph had been silenced – and his amulet, or whatever it was, had been taken – and Max doubted it was for a souvenir. It all pointed to trouble: something that could unbalance the powers of good and evil permanently – and soon.

  “Can we go and kill some Brood now?” she said.

  Max shrugged. “Come on then, Sophie, I’ll buy you a coffee. It’s nearly dawn.”

  She visibly brightened at the suggestion. “I like mine black,” she said.

  “What a surprise,” muttered Max.

  * * * *

  They were the first customers at the coffee shop on Petty France when it opened. Whilst they waited for the coffee machine to warm up, Max had to endure his favourite waitress throwing dirty looks at the back of Sophie’s head.

>   Sophie, on the other hand, was enjoying herself soaking up the negative energy that was directed her way.

  “If you’re going to be working with me I’ll have to give you a cover story,” said Max, ducking his head so he couldn’t see the waitress glaring at him.

  “And a key to Scotland Yard,” said Sophie eagerly.

  “I’ll think about that,” said Max, lying through his teeth. “In the meantime I’ll tell anyone who asks, that you’ve been assigned to me on a temporary contract.”

  “So I’ll be a real police officer?” said Sophie. “Will I get paid?”

  “Don’t push your luck, Sophie,” said Max. “You’ve been let off with a warning. I don’t want to have to see you sent down again.”

  Sophie pouted. “You’re not being very nice.”

  “I’m not paid to be nice,” said Max, shortly. “I’m paid to keep the likes of you from killing the likes of me.”

  “That hurts, Max,” she said, wiping a single, glistening tear from one of her perfectly made up emerald eyes. “You’re going to have to trust me if we’re going to work together.”

  “I trust that Blood Oath,” said Max shortly. “I don’t trust you. If you could find a get-out clause in that contract, you’d have done it by now.”

  “I never read the small print,” said Sophie, airily. “I leave that to lesser mortals.”

  Then she fixed her eyes on him and stared intently. It made Max feel a bit dizzy. He managed to look away just in time.

  “One thing we need to get straight,” she said fiercely. “I’m not wearing one of those police uniforms – they’re just so drab, and polyester doesn’t suit me.”

  Max shook his head, a smile working its way up. He wondered what his fellow officers would make of her during the Equal Opportunities training. The smile widened. “But the cap would be useful for hiding your horns.”

  Sophie smirked back, her eyes shark-like. “I don’t have them anymore,” she said, pulling her hair loose to prove it.

  If looks could kill, Max’s favourite waitress would have sent Sophie up in smoke.

  “What?!” said Max staring in shock.

  “Yes,” she said, looking very smug. “I had a horn-ectomy. There are so many plastic surgeons down below these days. I thought about having my eyeballs re-coloured, too, but why interfere with perfection?”

  Max’s eyes were glued to Sophie’s perfectly horn-free head. He swallowed. If Level Twos were getting their horns removed, it would make his job of detection that much harder. Even auras could be cloaked sometimes.

  “Oh don’t worry, Max, darling,” said Sophie with a lofty smile. “I had a special dispensation because I was being sent to help you. The horns will grow back after a few months. Anyway, it’s totally illegal to have a horn-ectomy without a permit.”

  “No problem then,” said Max, raising his eyebrows, “because you demons always obey the law.”

  Sophie smiled to herself. Her lack of answer could have meant anything. It was darned creepy to have a Level Two demon for a partner.

  They decided to start their search for the main Brood nest by visiting some of Sophie’s old haunts.

  “Now, you’re not going to get trigger-happy on me, are you, Max, darling?” said Sophie, looking wary. “There are some of my best friends inside.”

  “I won’t start anything if they don’t,” said Max, annoyed at being told how to do his job by a demon.

  “Just let me handle the talking,” said Sophie. “Some of them aren’t as liberal and multicultural as me and they’ll think it’s degrading to have a conversation with a human. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Mr High-and-mighty! Don’t tell me you’re not just a tad racist when it comes to demons. I’ve seen you look down that long nose of yours at me.”

  Max laughed out loud.

  “Sophie! I’m hurt! Would I do such a thing? And, yes – when it comes to brain-eating demons, I do tend to rather err on the side of caution.”

  “Hmm,” sniffed Sophie. “Just try and stay low key.”

  The building was an ordinary-looking café named – appropriately – Beelzebub’s Baristi. The quiet murmur of a dozen conversations halted the moment Max stepped over the threshold.

  “I told you to stay low key,” hissed Sophie.

  “I’m not exactly wearing a flashing blue light on my head,” said Max.

  “Well, just try to look less human,” hissed Sophie.

  “Got any suggestions?” said Max crossly.

  Sophie ignored him and spoke to the bartender.

  “So nice to see you again, Kurt, sweetie.”

  Her seductive voice made Max want to hurl. It seemed to be having a similar effect on the bartender.

  “What?” said Kurt, fiddling with a bottle of what definitely wasn’t tomato juice. “What do you want? Why are you here?”

  “Official business,” said Sophie, waving Max’s Warrant card with a flourish.

  “Hey! How’d you get hold of that?” said Max. “Hand it over and don’t touch it again – that’s an order.”

  “No need to be so touchy, I just borrowed it.”

  Sophie rolled her eyes.

  “Okay, listen up. Has anyone seen any Brood lately? Come on, speak up or I’ll tear out your livers and then the Plod will terminate you.”

  Max groaned inwardly. Sophie really needed to hone her interrogation techniques – and he really didn’t like being called a ‘Plod’.

  “So it’s true,” said a demon at the back of the room. “You’re working for a human, and such a young one. How humiliating for you, Sophie, darling.”

  She had dark skin and jet black hair. Her eyes sparkled with demonic amusement.

  “Olivia, how lovely to see you again,” snarled Sophie. “You really do look amazing, considering your age.”

  She obviously didn’t like the competition of another beautiful Level Two in the same room.

  Olivia growled back, revealing her fangs.

  “Okay, ladies, perhaps you can do the catching up another time,” said Max, trying not to smile. “Right now we’re asking for any information that will lead us to the Brood’s main nest. I’m not after any Level Two law violators today, so you can all relax. I think it’s in everybody’s interests that the Brood are sent down and we can all go back to normal – or whatever that is for you.”

  “We don’t help humans,” hissed Olivia. “We’re not traitors.”

  Sophie’s eyes narrowed and Max grabbed her arm, in case she decided to make the argument more personal.

  “Look,” said Max quietly. “The Brood don’t just kill humans – they’ll happily kill Level Ones and Twos, as well.”

  “Not if we stay out of their way,” said Olivia, sulkily.

  “Are you afraid, Olivia, dear? Afraid you might snap a nail – or a talon?” said Sophie.

  “You’re not helping,” whispered Max.

  Sophie wrenched her arm free, looking annoyed.

  “Are you taking her side?” she said.

  Olivia looked quite happy at the idea. Max blushed. It was going to be a long day.

  “No, I’m not taking her side. I’m just trying to point out that these Level Threes are not just here for a short visit. They’ve got something planned and whatever it is, it won’t involve sharing the world with humans – or any demon below a Level Three.”

  Max sensed that his argument was beginning to work. The demons began to whisper amongst themselves. Kurt cleared his throat, a sound that would make most ordinary humans want to throw up.

  “There have been some rumblings underground,” said Kurt. “A lot of problems on the Circle Line – especially at Temple. That’s all I can tell you. That’s all anyone can tell you.”

  Max frowned. That was the second time in less than 24 hours that the word ‘Temple’ had come up in the line of work. He didn’t believe in coincidences and tried to work out the connection.

  Max glanced at the stony faces and knew he wouldn’t get any more information out of
them and, frankly, he doubted if they knew any more. There was a distinct whiff of unease in the room.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  He was about to leave when he remembered something else.

  “By the way, has anyone seen Ralph? He’s a Level One who works at that fast food place over on Buckingham Palace Road.”

  “I heard you went looking for him,” said Olivia, looking puzzled. “Didn’t you find him?”

  “Er, well, I found part of him,” Max admitted. “I found his tongue – it had been ripped out.”

  The silence in the room was deafening and the stench of fear was palpable.

  “You tell me this now?” said Kurt. “They’ll do the same to me – to all of us – if they hear that we spoke to you. I’m getting out of town fast!”

  He threw down his bar cloth and ran for the back door. The rest of the customers followed, not even bothering to finish their coffees.

  “You really know how to clear a place, Max, darling,” said Sophie softly. “We’re definitely going to have to discuss your interrogation techniques.”

  The Circle Line and the Crypt

  Even though it was only four stops on the Circle Line, Max was glad when he was able to escape the Tube carriage.

  Max had sat with his head in his hands while Sophie had complained loudly and non-stop about having to travel by what she called ‘cattle class’.

  “I can’t believe humans put up with this,” she said, still complaining in a carrying voice that had made the other passengers look up from their newspapers. “It’s crowded and dirty and some of these people smell bad. Besides, it’s common.”

  “How do you usually travel?” said Max, under his breath, “By broomstick?”

  “Why can’t we use chauffeur-driven limousines?” she moaned. “Or even taxis? I always travel by taxi!”

  “Look, Sophie,” said Max, abruptly reaching the end of his patience, “You’re a public servant now, working for the good of mankind and all that. There’s no budget for fancy transport, so you’re just going to have to get used to it. It’s good for your soul.”

  “I don’t think that’s at all funny,” said Sophie, coldly. “I lost my soul several hundred years ago, as well you know. Not that I’ve missed it.”