Jason Willow: Face Your Demons Page 11

  Mouse started before he could say a thing. ‘You have walked right in to their trap, I think. I told you to keep away from the gangs.’

  ‘What?’ Jason asked.

  ‘You were talking with the wonderful Fast Eddie after your little show at lunch today, yes? You and the spider-web boy will be fighting soon… for their entertainment and betting’

  ‘What are you on about?’ Jason asked, glancing passed Mouse to Louisa. She was just watching him - reserving judgement probably. ‘It’s not entertainment. Baldwin jumped me… started pushing me around. I was just about to hit him when that Erin girl stepped in.’

  ‘But why were you there – on the Skin’s… what do they call it… turf?’

  Louisa cut in. ‘Alan Brash led him there – I saw it.’

  Mouse frowned. ‘Ah, so he has started to pull you in already. You have agreed to be his gang’s little gladiator, yes - in a day or two, you will be fighting in the Pit for them?’

  Jason shook his head. ‘Look - Brash just asked me to carry some stuff to his car for him and then I got cornered.’

  Mouse just grunted.

  ‘Anyway - what’s the Pit?’ Jason asked to break the silence.

  Mouse didn’t reply so Louisa explained. ‘The gangs have their fights hidden away in the woods by the school – in a hollow which they call the Pit. They charge money for students to watch and they bet with each other on who will win - first blood, a knockout and so on. If you do well, the gang who put you forward might let you join them.’

  Mouse cut in. ‘Fast Eddie didn’t explain this to you during your little talk?’

  ‘No, he didn’t say anything like that…’ Jason thought back and his eyes widened as he remembered. ‘He did say something about “explaining the arrangements” but I haven’t even seen him today so it’ll probably all fizzle out.’

  ‘No,’ Mouse said, leaning back into the seat. ‘I do not think so. He is just building up the… tension. You will be their gladiator and if you do well, you can join their gang.’

  ‘I don’t want to be in any sad gang.’

  ‘Then do not fight for them,’ Mouse said.

  ‘What,’ said Jason, ‘after the whole school knows about Baldwin pushing me around? It’ll only get worse. He won’t stop and everyone will think I’m scared of the little…’

  ‘Then fight.’ said Mouse, shrugging. ‘Fight and join their gang and be controlled by Alan Brash.’

  Jason stared at him. What could he do? He looked to Louisa for help but she just stared back at him. Did she think he wanted to join the Brash or worse, did she think he was scared to fight Baldwin?

  The bus hissed to a stop. They were in Darkston Wick, outside Mrs Miggins’ store. The doors jerked open and they followed the others off the bus and Mouse walked off without even a grunt goodbye.

  ‘You will have to take this decision yourself.’ Louisa said, ignoring the leering Porter and jumping down lightly.

  Jason shrugged and started to turn for home.

  ‘This way,’ Louisa said.

  Jason looked blankly at her.

  ‘You were coming to our house to talk after school – have you forgotten?’ she added.

  Jason nodded. He’d forgotten.

  The bus doors jerked shut behind them and Porter roared away in a cloud of diesel fumes.

  ‘Good first day, son?’

  Jason span around to see Dad wandering across the road towards them.

  ‘Yeah, thanks… fine,’ Jason said. ‘I’m just going to Louisa’s and Mouse’s for a bit.’

  Dad gave a tight smile. ‘Ah – sorry, not today – we need to talk.’

  ‘What,’ Jason began, but Dad cut across him to speak to Louisa.

  ‘Sorry to steal Jason away but I owe him some… explanations. Come on, Son.’

  Louisa smiled. ‘Of course, Mr Da…’ she stopped herself, then continued. ‘… Mr Willow. Jason and I will have plenty of time for chatting on other days.’ She held up one hand and gave a little finger-wave before walking away.

  ‘Right… uhh… see you tomorrow, then.’ Jason said, just managing to stop himself returning the wave.

  Perfect timing, Dad he thought and followed his father back to the Old Mill.

  ***

  ‘So how was Silent Hell?’ Dad asked as they walked back along the ancient street towards the Old Mill.

  ‘Great - I was nearly in a fight - a skinhead called Baldwin. If he starts on me tomorrow I’m going to kill him…’

  ‘There is a chance of that,’ Dad said, catching and holding his eyes.

  Jason took a slow breath. ‘So what – you think I should just walk away?’

  ‘What if you punch this lad too hard... what if you really do kill him…?’

  ‘As if that’s going to happen - you’ve been training me and Miranda for years, you know I can control myself.’

  Dad glanced down. ‘Things are changing… you’re changing. Now you’re through adolescence...’

  Jason felt his cheeks start to burn. He coughed and decided flippancy might be the best cover. ‘Yes, so what difference does it make if I’ve done my time with spots, squeaky voices, sticky sheets…?’

  ‘What’s that about sheets?’ came Miranda’s distracted voice from their porch. She was leaning forward, looking over their heads.

  ‘Nothing,’ Jason said quickly. ‘Why are you skulking around up there?’

  Miranda trotted down the stairs wearing a sullen pout. ‘Dad made me promise to stay here so as not to embarrass you in front of the lovely Louisa.’

  ‘I owe you one, Dad’ Jason mumbled.

  ‘Humph,’ Miranda snorted, ‘as if I would… after all the girlie advice I give you…’

  ‘Anyway,’ Dad cut her short, ‘just bring the backpack down Miranda and both of you follow me… quietly.’

  Miranda and Jason exchanged glances, then Miranda nipped back up to the porch, grabbed a small haversack and they followed Dad around the side of the house.

  ‘What’s going on,’ Jason mouthed to her.

  Miranda shrugged then they stopped just behind Dad as he stood in the shadows scanning the steep woods across the river.

  ‘Come on, quickly,’ he whispered, taking the haversack from Miranda and slipping it on his back.

  They ran down the side of the gently sloping lawn into the cold shade of the watermill with its boarded up doors and windows. Dad led them along the near side, running his hand over the wooden slats rising row upon row above them and then stopped at the corner to peer into the woods once again.

  ‘Okay,’ he whispered after a minute or so and dashed out onto the narrow wooden walkway which stretched from the garden to a stone cob that funnelled the sluggish river water into a churning frenzy beneath the waterwheel itself. The small rowing boat Jason had used on his first day was moored on the calm, far side of the cob.

  Hoping no one was watching them play ninja-spies in the garden, Jason followed his father with Miranda behind him.

  Dad stopped before they reached to boat, right in front of the waterwheel and pointed.

  The waterwheel turned in a sort of square tunnel under the mill building. There was over a metre gap between the wheel and either side of this tunnel and a stone ledge ran along each side.

  Willow crouched down on the walkway for a better look. He could just make out that the ledge ran past the far rim of the wheel and ended at a narrow ladder. It was dark in there but it would be an easy climb, as long as the wheel didn’t catch him on the back of the head, knock him out and pull him down into the freezing waters to be mashed and drowned.

  Dad stepped across the metre of water and braced himself against the mill, settling one foot on the ledge. Then he scuttled inside.

  ‘What the…’ Jason mouthed to Miranda but she just pointed after Dad then flapped her arms like chicken wings at him.

  Jason shook his head, sat down and reached out a leg. This close, the churning wheel seemed a lot bigger and louder. Its wide wooden blades
sliced into roiling white water with an incessant slap, slap, slap. A heavy mist filled the wheel-tunnel and ice cold gobbets splashed up and soaked into his T-shirt as his foot touched the ledge.

  Best not to think too much about it. He focussed on the ledge, took a deep breath then slowly shifted his weight forward reaching for the wall above the ledge. Got it. A bit wet but solid enough. He pulled himself onto the ledge and hugged the wall.

  The wheel churned inexorably on just five feet behind his head. Dad was only a few feet into the near-dark. He took Jason’s wrist and guided his fingers onto an iron ring set deep into the stone.

  Jason squinted and found more of them - they must have been there for workmen to tie themselves on to or something. Gripping each rusting ring, he followed Dad along the ledge towards the axle, his trainers slipping with every other step on the slick stone.

  Miranda joined them and found the rings on her own. They each stepped carefully over the revolving axle and edged towards the ladder just a few feet away.

  Suddenly Jason’s foot slipped and plunged into the icy water. Immediately the current clutched at him, dragging his leg down hard towards the wheel-blades. He yanked his foot out, gripping on to two slick rings for dear life just as Dad grabbed one arm and Miranda gripped his other.

  ‘I’m fine,’ he shouted over the roaring water, then remembered they were supposed to be being silent ninja types.

  He took a couple of deep breaths to calm down and then followed Dad to the ladder.

  Moments later, Jason hauled himself up onto the floor of a small chamber next to Dad and watched a smug and very dry Miranda pop up after them.

  Dad nodded and they crawled through a half-height doorway onto the dry wooden floor of the main mill room.

  ‘Are you all right, Son,’ Dad asked.

  ‘Just fine and dandy,’ Jason said, pulling off his soaking trainer and tipping out the water. ‘I take it we can talk now?’

  Dad smiled. ‘Here we can. Sorry about all the secret squirrel stuff, it’s just that…’

  ‘Alan Brash has got everywhere bugged?’ Jason asked, looking around at the many small wheels, cogs, levers, chains and grain chutes that filled the surprisingly big room. All the machinery, including a thick wooden shaft rose which rose up to pass through the ceiling, was silent and still. Jason wondered what lever he could pull to get it all going.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ Dad said. ‘He’s got every room in the mill on a microphone and the front of the house on video. I wanted a place we could talk in private.’

  ‘Why not a nice little drive into the moors, then?’ Jason said, now wringing out his sock.

  ‘It’s an idea but open ground is vulnerable to long distance listening devices,’ Dad said.

  ‘Not that you’re paranoid about the evil Alan Brash,’ Miranda said, smiling.

  Dad nodded. ‘Fair enough but I’ve had all Easter to search this place and I know this building’s clean… and as we haven’t undone any of the boarded up doors or windows, hopefully Brash won’t suspect we’ve found a little safe house right here under his nose.’

  ‘Great,’ Jason said, limping around the room with one trainer on, one off.

  Slashes of sunlight cut through the boarded windows and doors to illuminate a ceiling of long white planks stretching over him. In its centre were two open trap doors – one large, one small. A rope dropped down to a winch through the larger opening and a sturdy ladder ran up through the other.

  Dad cut into is thoughts. ‘So what do you want to know?’

  Jason stopped gazing around and plonked himself down on a huge cog. ‘When do I get my super powers?’

  Dad smiled. ‘You’ve already got them.’

  Miranda’s eyes went wide. ‘What – can he do those things Alan Brash did last night?’

  ‘Yes, that and much more,’ Dad answered her then turned back to Jason. ‘All you need is some training to unlock and control them properly – otherwise there’s no telling what damage you could do.’

  Jason’s heart leapt. ‘When are you going to show me how to do it?’ He hadn’t realised just how excited he was about the prospect of having some sort of “super powers”.

  ‘I’m not, Jason,’ Dad said, ‘not the way you think. The only thing I’ll teach you to do is how to suppress your Gift. I want to train you to stay normal.’

  ‘What? Why? You don’t trust me do you? You think I’m…’

  ‘I do trust you, both of you, I always have, in everything. Please don’t doubt ever that. It is just… oh there’s so much you need to know. Learning to use the Gift, joining the Watch – it’s not a question of being some sort of superhero in a comic book. It’s real life – people die horribly all around you, you’re forced to kill… and once you get involved you can never truly escape from it. Once you know more about it, then maybe you’ll understand.’

  ‘So tell me.’

  ‘So tell us,’ Miranda said, sitting down next to Jason. ‘You’re not going to put it off again are you?’

  He heard Dad take in a slow breath. ‘No, sweetheart, not this time.’ He pulled off the backpack, opened it and handed them both a bottle of Coke. Then he sat down against one wall and began.

  ‘Things happen that most people never see, never know about. Good things, bad things. There are demons trying to come through into our world – malevolent, powerful spirits trapped in another dimension which we call the Abyss. The cult I told you about on the train - The Brethren – have some people who can summon the demons – break through the barriers and free them from the pit. It’s difficult and very dangerous, but a few are brought through each year.’

  ‘But what exactly are they?’ Jason asked, still not quite believing they were talking seriously about demons.

  ‘We don’t know, not really. They’re no more than spirits when they first come through, like a stream of black mist that forms into a half-visible ghost. Once in our world they can’t survive long unless they possess a living creature, a human when they can, but anything fairly big will do – wolves are a favourite. The demon feeds on its host’s life, burns them up from the inside. It has to constantly replenish blood and flesh to keep the body alive or move on to the next victim.’

  Jason shuddered. ‘But why would the Brethren want to call up demons in the first place?’

  ‘Because whoever summons the demon can control it… as long as they guard against being possessed themselves. Once inside another living creature, demons can make their host incredibly strong and resilient to harm. The more powerful ones can conjure fire and darkness and worst of all, they can all infect others.’

  ‘Infect?’ Jason asked.

  ‘By biting usually – they inject a tiny quantity of their essence into the victim’s blood.’

  ‘So if you’re bitten, you’re possessed by the demon as well?’ Miranda asked.

  Dad shook his head. ‘Not quite. We call them “Touched”. They do become stronger and heal from damage and the demon can see and hear through their eyes and ears but they’re not actually possessed. The strongest demon can control dozens of humans or scores of animals.’

  Jason bit down on the two dozen questions that bubbled out of his mind and chose one. ‘So the Brethren control the demons and the demons control these infected people…’

  ‘Touched.’ Miranda corrected, swigging back some Coke as if they were discussing some great movie plot.

  ‘…these Touched people but what for? What are they all trying to do, what do they want?’

  Dad shook his head. ‘Something else we don’t really know. It’s been going on for centuries - the first records of what we think may be the start of it all was in the time of the Ottoman Empire but we still don’t know what the Brethren want.’

  ‘Well it’s got to be world domination, hasn’t it?’ Miranda said.

  Dad smiled. ‘We know two things that they do. Firstly they infiltrate powerful organisations, either with normal Brethren agents or sometimes with the Touched. Centuries ago
, they wormed their way into noble families and religions, and then they also moved into rich merchant houses and in modern days – governments, multi-national businesses and security organisations. They possess, Touch and kill to make themselves richer and more influential but we don’t know why.’

  ‘But why isn’t anybody stopping them?’ Jason asked.

  ‘That’s where the Watch come in. We have soldiers, spies, accountants and lawyers but Gifted families like ours have always been at the heart of it. We hunt down the demons, their summoners and the hundreds of agents who fight, spy and scheme for the Brethren.’

  ‘And when you find them…?’ Miranda asked, all trace of humour gone from her voice.

  ‘We kill everyone and utterly destroy the demon and whatever poor sod it happens to be inside.’

  Jason was open mouthed. He wasn’t sure he could believe all of this, even after seeing what Brash did last night. ‘Dad, I don’t understand why people don’t know about all of this? Why aren’t governments and armies hunting down the demons?’

  ‘Because neither side wants to tell the secret. The Brethren obviously don’t want more people trying to stop their summoning and infiltrations but the catch is that the Watch need it to be kept quiet as well.’

  ‘What? Why? Surely…’ Jason began but Dad stopped him.

  ‘Because of mass panic, over reaction. Mankind can’t cope with the existence of the supernatural. Anyone, anyone at all who seemed just a little bit different or showed any sign of unexplained powers is hunted down and killed. And that means our side as well as theirs.’

  ‘Okay, I can see what you mean, but surely governments could sort it all out if you told them… you know, quietly with the S.A.S and secret services and all that.’

  Dad just raised an eyebrow. ‘Governments keep a secret like this - I don’t think so. There have been times, over the centuries, when the Watch were desperate and were forced to call for help. They have always ended in disaster - the witch-hunts in England, the Spanish Inquisition. Some Brethren were caught, but so were many of the Gifted from the Watch. Then of course, there were the thousands of innocent people not connected in any way with the struggle who were tortured, burned and drowned.’