The Wait of the Soul

Part 7

Time, an almost forgotten concept for him, hauled and pummeled his mind, pushed him to seek out places 'she' would not be.

He lingered in workshops, inspecting the greasy engines that powered the noxious smelling vehicles so beloved of men.

He watched an elderly gardener trim and weed, lavish loving care on his plants. Then listened to the same man bark and bellow at his spouse. True she barked and bellowed back, but still no picture of contentment there.

He stayed a while in a glassblowers workshop and remembered straying into such a place as a child, loitering till the kindly workmen allowed him to try to blow life into the glass as they did. But his child's lungs were not big enough, and he failed.

He saw now how little the art had changed.

It soothed him to observe such things, but when his mind lost its discipline, he moved on.

Wandering into the law courts he chanced upon a churlish lout who was pushing a young, slight girl, holding her arm in a vice-like grip.

"You say, what I say," the youth hissed at the lass.

"But I was at my mum's, the neighbours saw me," she whined.

"Me brief says we stick-to-the-story, understand."

She stood back sullenly, shook off his hold and sucked, childlike, at the thick gold chain that hung about her neck.

"Lonnie, good lad, you're on time. They'll like that." The fresh, open face, with its clear blue eyes and fashionably sculpted beard, grinned at the pimply felon. "Oh, and this must be the lovely Chantal?" The approaching barrister knew well who she was.

The 'lovely Chantal' blushed as the suave, streetwise lawyer smiled his most winning smile...all just for her. She was lost, for him, she would tell any story he wanted in a shit load of courtrooms.

The watcher closed his eyes and swore an oath so awful, that if a prince of darkness did exist, it surely would have called him up.

In his stead a slinking shadow circled the little group, chortling in delight. "Oh, what justice is this? Is he still fighting the battles of the poor and downtrodden?" The Shade sniffed. "Not that she looks downtrodden enough." It leered and passed over the girl causing her to shiver and grow pale.

"Lonnie I'm cold." She bit on her chain and looked sulky.

Stubby fingers stoked the air a nanometre from her skin, she squirmed and whined. "Can we go yet?"

"Shut-the-f'in-'ell-up" Lonnie didn't even look at her, turned to his barrister. "So, I just get the community service stuff then?"

Robert Locke smiled confidently. "Nope, no way they can make the charges stick now. Once the Police Complaints Authority case was sorted, the charges against you were unsafe. The delightful Chantal here gives you an alibi, they won't bother to check. It's all too embarrassing for the CPS. And you walk, my son, simple as."

The Watcher could not believe the face he saw... by twisted circumstance and fortune, his rival, his nemesis, stood before him in all his flesh, blood and arrogance, it was almost more than could be tolerated.

"Well, the boy looks well on it, whatever 'it' is..." the dark spirit chortled.

A jangling tune sounded, the bright-eyed barrister pulled his phone from his pocket and held up his hand to the impatient Lonnie. "Justa mo, gotta take this." Turning away from his client, the professional smile disappeared. "Hi, George, good to hear from you. Any news for me?" The mouth hardened, but the voice was still all charm and care. "Well, it's understandable really. But you know I was under considerable strain at the time. It was all really just a huge misunderstanding. Lots of crossed wires. I never intended for..."