Deceased Dora Read online

  “Have you done it?”

  “Not yet.” He shook his head.

  She was about to ask more when she noticed a light shining ahead.

  The passageway opened up into a wide cavern. In the centre was a large pool of water. When she looked up, she saw the moon in the sky above them, lighting up the cave through a hole in the top of the cavern. The opening in the ceiling looked as if it had been worn away by time.

  “What happens now?” She sat down on a large rock and peered down into the pool.

  “We call the spirit,” he said.

  “Okay …” She was beginning to get a bad feeling about this.

  What spirit, whose spirit?

  He walked to the pool and knelt over the edge. The only sound in the cavern was the hollow drip of water trickling down the side of the walls. The pool glowed white because of the moon’s reflection, and the waters were clear all the way down to the rocky ground at the bottom.

  He knelt over the pool on all fours and closed his eyes as if in a trance. He let out a low humming sound that vibrated through the cave.

  She watched him in silence, holding her breath in anticipation. He slowly inhaled, and she couldn’t help but notice his bulging muscles tense. Then he dunked his head in the water in a quick spasmodic movement.

  She raised an eyebrow. It had looked kind of cool until he did that.

  He pulled his head back out of the water and got to his feet.

  “Is that it? Because that was just lam—” She began.

  Wind rushed round the cave in a swirling force that shoved hard against her and knocked her into the pool.

  She fought to get to the surface, but something grabbed her feet and yanked her down into the watery depths.

  She thought she heard Carob say, “Enjoy the ride,” before she was sucked down into a deeper part of the caves.

  Dora landed with a wet flop onto cold stone. She groaned and rolled over onto her back.

  Above her was the pond. It appeared to be levitating in the air above her head.

  She sat up and rubbed her back.

  Okay, that sucked.

  She warily glanced around the stone chamber. It was dimly lit by candles, and unoccupied. There was a swirling white mist in the far corner that was twisting around in constant movement, shaping and reshaping.

  She squinted at it. It seemed to be coming towards her.

  What the fuck is that?

  She tried to stand as the mist drew closer to her, but her legs wouldn’t move. She shook her head trying to clear it and glanced down at her legs. Thick vines were tightly wrapped around them.

  Oh, shit.

  She glanced back at the mist to find that it had moved rapidly. It was now hovering next to her.

  Oh, double shit!

  She struggled against the thick vines around her legs, but they refused to budge.

  “Help!” she shouted up to Carob, but he didn’t seem to be able to see or hear her. He was making his pectorals dance in the reflection of the pool instead.

  What a poser.

  The mist began to take form. It swirled into the shape of a young man.

  She paused struggling as the face reshaped into a familiar one.

  “Kieron?”

  A completely white and slightly transparent Kieron stood beside to her.

  She frowned.

  Is it him? Is it really him?

  “Kieron, is that you?”

  “Of course, Dora.” His voice sounded wrong.

  She shook her head. It didn’t feel like Kieron.

  “You don’t sound like Kieron,” she said while trying to tug the vines off her legs.

  The mist coughed and lowered his voice. “It has been a long day, Dora.” He echoed in a dodgy, southern accent.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Wrong accent, and Kieron rarely calls me Dora.”

  “Snookums?” the mist said in a very odd Russian accent.

  “Not even close.”

  “Ahh fuck it,” the Kieron-mist replied in a whiny, male voice. “You are bound to me, and now we must ride.”

  “Ride what?” She had a sinking suspicion she wasn’t going to like the answer, and she struggled to untangle the vines around her legs.

  “Each other.” The Kieron-mist grinned.

  “Well, at least you got that part of his personality right,” she muttered as she searched her jeans pocket for her trusty zippo.

  “You know, most people fall for the mind-fuck,” the Kieron-mist said.

  “Yeah, I hear that happens to a lot of people,” she said as she pulled the lighter out of her pocket.

  The Kieron-mist leaned over her, and his form solidified as his face drew closer to hers.

  She cringed inside when it became clear that he intended to kiss her.

  Narrowing her eyes, she flicked open the zippo, hoping the dip in the pool hadn’t soaked it too much for it to light.

  She ducked as his lips neared hers and tried the light the zippo. It lit on the third grind of the wheel. She held it under the vines, trying to burn through them.

  “Oww, fuck!” The mist recoiled, and so did the vines, freeing her legs.

  She leapt to her feet and pointed the lighter at the misty shape. He was now shifting from Kieron to random people in her life.

  “Get the fuck out of my head.”

  “Or else?” The mist flashed an evil smile.

  “Or else I’ll …” She trailed off.

  How do I harm mist?

  The mist grinned. “Just stop fighting, and enjoy the ride.” It floated towards her again.

  “Never gonna happen,” she muttered. “This might hurt a bit,” she said as she conjured up an image of her grandmother naked in her mind.

  “Oh, eww!” The mist cringed. “Agh! Make it stop.”

  “The only way to make it stop is to send me back up there.” She pointed to the pond.

  “Aww, come on. It’s lonely down here.” The mist reformed into a sad teenager who was wearing geeky glasses.

  “You tell me what I want to know, and I’ll hang out with you for a while, but no groping, kissing or going into my head uninvited, or else.” She extinguished the zippo and dropped it back in her pocket. “Deal?”

  The mist-boy nodded. “Okay, what do you want to know?” he said with a sigh.

  “What are you?” she asked.

  “I am the last spirit wolf to roam the Earth.”

  “And, what’s a spirit wolf?”

  “It’s the spirit of a werewolf.”

  “So, a ghost?”

  “Not just a run of the mill ghost! I’m a mystical being with the power to control nature. I can cont—”

  “A pervert is what you are.” She interrupted.

  “Most people enjoy it.” The spirit shrugged.

  “People or supernatural creatures that are fucked in the head?”

  “Fair point.”

  “Okay, so what am I?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What kind of messed up supernatural being am I?”

  The spirit sniffed the air. “You’re not. No wait.” He sniffed again, and his eyes widened. “That’s just … weird.”

  “What’s weird?”

  “You smell human, but there’s some kind of demon thing going on in there.” He waved his hand over her body. “It’s like a strawberry milkshake with barbecue chicken in it—kinda nasty.”

  “But, what is it?”

  “Fucked if I know.” The spirit shrugged.

  “I thought you were supposed to know all the answers?” She scowled.

  “Only the answers on Earth. You’re not from here, are you?”

  “Yes I am!”

  “Well then, you’re something new.”

  She digested the information.

  Something new that smells like strawberry chicken, great!

  “Wonderful.”

  “Anything else?” the spirit asked.

  “How do you know all the answers?” She wasn
’t in the mood to trust his vague answers.

  “Oh, I was one of the first creatures on Earth. I’ve always been here watching.”

  She shot him a look of disbelief as she eyed his Star Wars t-shirt. “You look like you grew up in the eighties.”

  “It gets boring down here,” he grumbled. “Eighties movies are a wonderful way to spend endless time.”

  “What happens when you run out of eighties movies?”

  “Darkness will fall.” The spirit ominously intoned. “I’ll have to start on the nineties TV show box sets.”

  “Red Dwarf’s a good one.”

  “Seen it,” the spirit said. “Smeghead.”

  She snorted, and the spirit wiggled his eyebrows at her.

  “Okay, what’s going on with the vampires and werewolves here? Why are they at war?”

  “Ooh, I like that question! Prepare yourself for the story of their dark past.”

  “Okay.” She glanced around wondering how you prepare yourself in a small, dark cave.

  “When the first demons walked upon the Eart—” the spirit began.

  “Skip the intro.” She interrupted.

  “It’s the best part.”

  She scowled.

  “Okay, okay. Fast forward, buuzzzzz. For a time, the vampires and werewolves were allied and living in harmony. They shared the night, and er, everyone was happy. The great matriarch of the werewolves was young and very beautiful when she inherited the throne from her father. Her reign was prophesized to be the beginning of a great new nation on Earth. She was to marry Prince Devereaux of the vampire clan, a union to bring the fangs together.”

  “Bring the fangs together, really?” She laughed.

  “What? It works with the story. Shut up, and let me finish it.” The spirit complained.

  “Okay, but no more tacky, movie lines.”

  “Can’t make any promises about that,” the spirit said. “Okay, so where was I? Oh yeah, an unholy union … The marriage was a huge success, and for the first few years, the soon to be king of the vampires and mother of all werewolves lived in wedded bliss. It wasn’t long before a child was born, a beautiful girl with both her parent’s powers. Word travelled through the supernatural lands about this immortal werewolf, this gifted child, but tragedy was soon to strike.”

  “In the dark corners of the human world, the Black Bishop heard of this child and wanted her for his own nefarious plans, but she was protected by both the vampires and the werewolves, taking her would not be easy. He set in motion an event that would break the alliance between the species to get his hands on the child.”

  “What kind of event?” Dora asked.

  “He screwed the mother of werewolves. A cheap bottle of wine and the right words, and she was easy.”

  “Skanky.” She wrinkled her nose.

  The spirit nodded in agreement. “That’s what the king of the vampires thought, so they got a divorce, and he left the realm, never to be seen again.”

  “The realm?”

  “You call it Berkville.”

  “Oh, okay. What happened next?”

  “The mother of the werewolves went insane with grief. She began to believe her husband had cheated on her and waged bloody battles against vampire-kind, which she still does to this day.”

  “Wait a minute. She inherited her throne, right? How is she still alive now?” she asked.

  “Fucked if I know, but she is.” The spirit shrugged.

  She frowned. There were a lot of things that the spirit didn’t know. She was beginning to question his wisdom. Well, she hadn’t thought he had much to begin with, but even his memory seemed a bit vague.

  “Fast forward again, buuzzzzz. The matriarch’s daughter was now fully grown and at a loss in her werewolf world, for she was both vampire and werewolf—a were-pire, if you like, or is it a vamp-wolf?” The spirit paused for a moment, looking confused.

  “Anyway.” He continued with a shake of his head. “She met a vampire and fell in love. This vampire was honourable and brave. He vowed to rescue her from her evil mother and restore the peace between the species, but the matriarch was stronger and killed him before he could fulfil his promise. The were-pire princess was heartbroken and defeated. She ran away never to be seen again. No one knows what happened to her.”

  “The matriarch still wages war and is winning as the vampire population dwindles. New vampires rise and fall. They pray for a saviour, a vampire powerful enough to end this war, but time runs short for them as the wolves advance.”

  “What is the saviour supposed to do, exactly?” she asked while thinking about Terrance.

  Isn’t that what the vampires called him, ‘The Saviour’?

  “Through his bloodline, the ancient matriarch will be defeated. His power will bring peace to both species.”

  She tried to imagine Terrance siring an army of warriors and facing down a beastly matriarch with a stamp collection in one hand and a Dunkin’ Doughnut in the other.

  “Yeah, or he’ll get himself killed,” she muttered. She pondered Terrance’s options and realised that she needed to get back to him and warn him.

  “What about the king of vampires or the were-pire woman? Can’t they defeat the werewolf mother?”

  “Not so far. Anyway, they’re gone now. Probably died out years ago,” the spirit said. “Over the years, the matriarch has wielded more power—her immortality for one thing. It’s said that nothing can defeat her.”

  “What happened to the Black Bishop?” she asked. “He started this, didn’t he? What about his plans?”

  The spirit waved his hand, appearing bored. “Oh, he was just a human. He died long ago.”

  “Then how come his agents tried to arrest me a few days ago?” She narrowed her eyes.

  “It isn’t the same guy. Human logic—one dies, and they make another one who’s just as lame.”

  “So, the Black Bishop is a title, like a job? Doing what?”

  The spirit pondered the question for a moment. “Last time I checked, they do some accounting, scheming and a bit of spying.”

  “For who?” She frowned. As a human, she’d never heard of the Black Bishop.

  “The Po-pe,” the spirit said with a yawn. “You know it’s been fun and all, but I’m kind of tired.”

  “That yawn was beyond fake. Are you blowing me off?” She scowled.

  “No, really! I’m soooo sleepy right now.”

  “Uh, huh?” She rolled her eyes.

  “Honest!”

  “What’s that in your hand?” She noticed an X-box controller had appeared in his left hand.

  “This? Oh, nothing. It’s a ritual summo—”

  “Cut the crap. I’m done anyway. Send me back to Carob, and enjoy your epic game of Gears of War.”

  “I beat that ages ago.”

  “I feel a minus-one registering on my care-o-metre.” She flipped him off.

  “So immature,” the spirit muttered as he waved his arms. She felt her body being pulled upwards as she was instantly sucked into the pool above.

  She broke the surface and gasped for air before swimming over to Carob and pulling herself out.

  “Did you enjoy the ride?” he asked with a wink.

  “I didn’t go on one.”

  “What did you do?” He appeared confused.

  “I chatted with the spirit instead.”

  His eyes widened. “B-bu-but he rarely speaks in his own image.”

  “Yeah? Well, geeks rarely do. Anyway, I need to get going now, but er, thanks for the help.”

  “Why do you need to go?” He frowned. “What did the spirit tell you?”

  “I need to save the Saviour and find the Black Bishop,” she said with determination.

  I need to save Terrance’s dumb ass.

  The Black Bishop took a soothing sip of his fruit tea and reclined back in the Iron Throne. It wasn’t really an iron throne. It was the executive chair in the Black Pope’s office, known in the ranks as the Iron Throne.
>
  To the Black Bishop, it felt like a throne. For the last five weeks, he had ruled from here while the Black Pope was on holiday.

  He slowly exhaled and stared down at his minions, who were working hard in the brightly lit offices below.

  The headquarters were quite cheerful even though the office was buried beneath the Vatican.

  I could get used to this.

  He felt a smile spread across his face as a peaceful serenity washed over him.

  In the past four weeks of the Black Pope’s absence, he’d averted a gay rights protest in Vatican City, stopped two reports about bestiality in the church going public and captured a demon in Berkville. Life was looking up.

  If he kept up his achievement rate for one more week, he’d be able to permanently oust the Black Pope out of his throne.

  Black Bishops had been kept out of power for too long. This was his destiny. He just needed everything to go perfect in the Black Pope’s absence.

  “Hole-eee, hole-eee …” The phone blared out.

  He jumped in his chair with fright and dropped the boiling hot, fruity tea on his crotch.

  “Yahh! I hate that fucking phone!” He snarled while brushing hot tea off his groin. He snatched up the handset and held it to his ear.

  “Yes?”

  “Agent Ochre reporting from Berkville, sir,” the voice on the other end said.

  “What is it, Ochre? Your report isn’t due until next week,” he replied.

  PISS. I should have known. Who else would have that idiot ring tone?

  “I know, sir, but the situation has developed here.”

  “What situation, the demon?” the Black Bishop asked. He needed that demon. They better not have screwed this up.

  “She escaped, sir. But there’s more … er, she was rescued by a group of demons. We think the town is infested.”

  The Black Bishop didn’t reply. His mind was swimming with ideas on how he could use this information. Capturing one real demon was a winning ticket, but a gang of them would be so much more. Hell, he’d probably be the next Pope if he pulled that off. No one had seen a demon since the Dark Ages, capturing several would make him into a hero.

  “Sir?” Agent Ochre asked.

  “Yes, yes. I’m here. You said more demons. Do you know what kind?”

  “Er, evil ones?”

  He rolled his eyes. Didn’t anyone read Vatican lore anymore? He could swear these agents got dumber every single day.