The Case of The Missing Hamster: Part Eight
The Eight Bit: Rain of Hellfire… well, if I’m honest, more of a drizzle.
On the plus side, I only found one more bite mark on Clare. On the down side, it was on her back and inside a circle of blood. Nasty work that. She did scream a bit when I scrubbed it clean with Salt and Rosemary. I’d live with the guilt somehow.
“So someone marked me?” She had progressed from Coffee to Whisky now. Always a good move when dealing with Occultists. Especially and ten in the morning. Even when I used to drink I never started at ten in the morning. Normally by ten, I wasn’t sober enough to negotiate getting the top off the bottle. Ten Of The Clock was Chemical Enhancement time…. in the old days.
“Yeah.” I said, lighting a fresh smoke and prodding the red end into the open bite mark. Some more screaming occurred. “I think you were being marked for a possession. Damn Runes were too small to read. Will you please stop screaming, and if you have to hit someone, please hit Pete. That’s what I keep him around for.”
“True.” Pete said, healing in front of my eyes. The joys of Daemonic blood. “Although sometimes Faustus is nice enough to allow me to be shot or occasionally stabbed. Perhaps even a light explosion or two. Normally at the hands of disgruntled husbands. Oh look Faustus. A photograph of a husband. In front of an ATTACK HELLICOPTER.”
I hit him with a handy cheeseboard. Always helpful.
“So my head was going to spin around and I’d be pebble dashing the walls?” Clare’s hands were shaking with the newfound energy of someone who’s just found out how the world works.
“Nah.” I said, relighting the smoke. “It wouldn’t work like that. They’d simply rip your soul out of your body, stick it somewhere it couldn’t get free and then move into your shell. Sort of like the ultimate squatter. The plus side is that it’s not a Daemon or an Angel. They creep in through the nose. This is Left Hand Witchery or worse, Mage work, Mind you, what they’d want with the Hamster I don’t…”
I grabbed her chin and lifted it, getting so up close and personal that I could feel Humphrey vibrating with excitement and wishing he had his video camera.
“Pete.” I grabbed his head and thrust it under Clare’s chin. “What do you notice?”
“Ah… Clare is wearing Sloggi underwear.”
I tilted his head up.
“Oh. I see what you mean.”
“Would either of you like to let me in on this?” Clare said. “Or are you just going to choke me?”
I let her go and we both backed off, out of striking range.
“The bites were made by two very sharp teeth.”
“Rodential teeth to be exact.”
“The Hamster bit me?” Clare flopped into her chair. I moved the whisky glass out of her reach. “My hamster is a vampire?”
“Nope.” I ground my smoke out in the sink. “Your hamster is a witch.”
“Shall I fire up the barbecue Dad?” Humph chipped in.
“You do not have the skills to burn me, Mortals.” Came a really squeaky little voice from somewhere in the kitchen. “Prepare to die. Apart from you Lady. You just get gutted and dumped in a plant pot.”
Now most Dames, ones that aren’t from my world, hearing something like that would do the sensible thing. Run away. Given the choice, I’d run away. I like running away. It’s good for the heart, and so long as the Mob doesn’t catch you, it keeps you alive.
Clare picked up a carving knife. Silly Bint. Should have run away.
Humphrey widdled himself.
Pete started running around in circles and flapping his arms.
I lit another smoke.
A ball of Hellfire hit me square in the chest.
More EM Faustus Adventures can be found at
www.emfaustus.com or the novels are available on Amazon and Kindle.
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