Devine Enquiries

Humans

I let it flow over him. A thick, choking miasma of nameless dread.

One

Sean went back to his base, checking in with his commanding officer and to let him know that there were also demons along with the many other creatures to worry about.

Fanny went back to the strip club to absorb more energy.

Sam and I went to a local pub for a quiet drink and to try to make sense of what we had found out so far.

When we left the pub it was dark, miserable and drizzling. A perfect English summer.

I felt the danger as soon as we stepped outside and turned to Sam as a pick axe handle smashed into her head and she fell forward. I had that split second warning and managed to half turn, half duck before the second pick axe handle hit my head. I also went down but stayed awake and rolled over to see two skinhead thugs grinning, casually swinging their weapons. They kept smiling as they hit and kicked Sam repeatedly, breaking bones, enjoying themselves, knowing that she was the biggest danger before they turned their attention to me. That was their mistake as they had left me long enough to recover some semblance of rational thought.

I looked at the younger one first simply because he was closer and appeared to be getting ready to take a second swing.

I didn't have to search for a thought this time, I could still feel the pain in my head. Quickly I gathered up that feeling, increased it, intensified it and let it fly to the thug. He dropped like a sack of potatoes and began screaming. I took my eyes off him but kept thinking about the pain and he kept screaming. I looked at the other thug.

This one was older, more scarred. He took half a step forward and stopped, uncertain. His eyes flicked between me and his partner. I knew he was reviewing the "script". One man, two thugs with pick axe handles. Should be easy, a night's wages with little effort, but someone had changed the "script".

I stopped thinking about the first one and he stopped screaming, just sobbed, breathing raggedly.

"Kenny!" the older one shouted. "Stop fucking around and get up!"

The older thug with all the scars took a step towards me, his pick axe handle held out in front, more of a talisman than a weapon.

"What did you do?" he demanded.

I sat up, felt the aches from where I'd hit the floor, felt the bruises from where they'd hit me, saw my expensive Italian suit torn and filthy.

I stared at the scarred thug.

I picked another memory, from childhood. Fear this time. My first day at nursery school, the first time my Mother had left me anywhere. Silly now but at the time, for a four year old, complete, uncontrolled terror.

I let it flow over him. A thick, choking miasma of nameless dread.

Terror claimed the thug. His weapon fell to the ground from a weak and shaking hand, knees trembled and buckled as he sank to the floor, a stench filled the alley as he lost control of bladder and bowels. Not a sound came from him as he curled into a ball, hands wrapped around his head.

I stood up, slowly, feeling all the bruises, still dizzy from the initial impact of wood on my skull. I could see that Sam was starting to move when I heard a chuckle in the shadows.

"Very clever," a voice I didn't recognise said. When he stepped forward I recognised Fairy glamour but I didn't know him. Then he raised an odd looking gun. There was no bang, just a whisper and I realised it was a tranquilliser dart. One for me and two for Sam. I tried to bring up a thought but my head was already feeling muzzy. I tried to step towards him but just fell down again. Then everything went dark.