Mark Chadbourn - Jack of Ravens

Night was falling as Ice reached the chaos that had erupted at the intersection of Haight and Ashbury. A cacophony of screams and shouts thundered in the air as the heaving crowd surged in panic. Police were all around and tear gas drifted on the breeze.

Grace and Doctor Jay came running up with a young man with short hair, horn-rimmed glasses and a University of Berkeley T-shirt, and a woman with long auburn hair and an abundance of beads and bangles.

‘They’re killing us out there,’ Grace said breathlessly.

‘They’re making their move tonight. They’re going to catch us all in one go,’ Doctor Jay added.

Ice nodded to the new arrivals. ‘These the last two?’

‘James and Deanna.’ Grace looked over her shoulder at the seething crowd.

Ice could already feel his affinity for the two. In their faces he saw confidence and hardly any fear despite their situation. ‘Okay, that’s a full packet. Where are the others?’

‘Gabe’s taking photos. Marcy’s lost it. She’s on the front line, stoning the cops. Tom and Niamh are trying to drag her away,’ Grace said.

‘Let’s help them. We have to return to the house.’

They pushed their way back into the crowd as a wave of movement and screams came from their right. Ice stood his ground as a terrified mob washed around him. Behind them staggered five men and women clutching their faces where weeping sores were rapidly blooming.

And behind them, floating two feet above the sidewalk, was a voluptuous woman, nearly naked apart from a few wisps of gossamer veil. Her black hair flowed out all around a terrible face with wide, staring eyes and enormous fangs that looked sharp enough to tear off a man’s arm. Her fingers and toes ended in jagged claws.

A young woman ran by, so busy looking over her shoulder at the police that she didn’t see what she was passing. With rattlesnake speed, the floating thing lashed out and caught the woman across the side of the face with her claws. Instantly, the woman faltered. Her shock turned to discomfort and then agony as the sores began to appear.

‘What the hell is that?’ Ice said.

‘Rangda.’ Doctor Jay’s sunglasses made him impassive. ‘The demon-queen of Bali. Spreads plague. Leads an army of evil witches.’

‘You read too many books,’ Ice growled. He herded them back into the crowd as Rangda darted forward.

‘The police aren’t going to let us out of here,’ Grace squealed. ‘That thing’s going to pick us off one by one.’

‘We’ll get out,’ Ice said. Church is counting on us. We don’t let him down, you hear?’

The crowd swallowed them up and the screams grew louder.

The light in the mirror blazed so brightly that Church could barely look into it. He was outside one of the Victorian mansions near the Grateful Dead’s house that had been raided only four nights earlier. He could already tell something was wrong. The front door hung on twisted hinges and the hall light blazed out into the night.

He entered cautiously. A man lay dead on the stairs, his throat torn out. On the first-floor landing, a woman hung over the banister, both eyes missing. His heart pounding, Church followed the trail of blood to a door on the second floor. It swung open at Church’s fingertips.

The first thing he saw was writing on the walls in blood: Helter Skelter. Death to Pigs .

The Libertarian was admiring his handiwork. He turned to Church blithely. ‘Just getting in a little practice for nineteen sixty-nine. Or repeating what I will do then, depending on your point of view. Charlie’s spelling is atrocious.’

A ponytailed man with sunglasses sat on the sofa as if watching TV, a hole punched through his chest to where his heart had once been. The missing organ sat on a side table next to a lava lamp.

‘You’ve got the Shears,’ Church said flatly.

‘There was never any doubt. We’ve been searching for them for a long, long time, Mr Churchill.’ He dipped into the inside pocket of his long, black coat and pulled out what at first looked like a blinding white light. As Church forced himself to peer into it, he saw something that resembled a giant crystal snowflake, and then a series of circling orbs, and finally a pair of gold shears with ornate handles.

The Libertarian smiled at Church’s unease. ‘Oh, don’t worry, I have no intention of using them now. One wrong snip and the whole thing could start to unravel. We will take our time, ensure everything is just right, safe for us, not so for you, and then …’ He made a snipping motion with two fingers of his free hand. ‘Things fall apart. The centre cannot hold.’

Knowing he had no choice, Church advanced. The Libertarian smiled mockingly just as Church saw movement in the corner of his eye. Hands like dry wood clutched at his wrist before an arm moved across his throat. In the mirror opposite he could see Etain’s dead eyes staring back at him. The loamy smell of her filled his nostrils.

‘Despite what you might think, we really do know what we are doing.’ The Libertarian strode to the door and paused. ‘Oh — remember when we met not so very long ago in that cold city? I told you then what would happen if you ever chose to re-enter the game.’

‘Don’t hurt Gabe and Marcy.’ Church strained in Etain’s grip. ‘They’ve got nothing to do with this.’

‘I can’t go back on my word,’ the Libertarian said indignantly. ‘Well, perhaps just one of them. I shall attend to that piece of business before I take a very long flight to the East. Have to see how our boys are getting on scaring up a few Fabulous Beasts with their napalm.’

Church could hear him humming merrily as he walked down the stairs. Etain closed the crook of her elbow tighter around Church’s throat. In the mirror, her unblinking stare never left his face.

‘Etain, I’m really sorry about what happened to you,’ Church said hoarsely. ‘I don’t know if you can hear me, but I wanted to say that. There hasn’t been a day gone by when I haven’t regretted what Veitch did to you, or felt guilty for getting you into it.’

Etain didn’t register a flicker of emotion.

‘But I can’t go on beating myself up over that. There’s too much at stake now and too many people relying on me. I hope wherever you are you understand that.’

While he was talking, Church had been shifting his position. He drove backwards with all his weight and smashed Etain into the wall, then pulled forward and did it again. While she was off-balance, Church jackknifed at the waist. Etain flew over his shoulder and crashed into the TV set. Amidst the flash and the sparks there was the smell of burning dead flesh.

Church didn’t wait to see the results. He was soon racing into the night to save his friends.

The panic at the intersection had subsided when the police allowed some of the crowd to flow up Ashbury. Unmarked vans were already being loaded with body bags containing the plague victims. The demon-queen was gone.

Church found Ice and Grace helping some of the people who had been hurt in the crush.

‘Bummer of a way to end the Summer of Love,’ Grace said.

Gabe came up, dismayed. ‘The fascist pigs took my camera,’ he said.

‘Where’s Marcy?’ Church looked around, then pushed his way through the crowd in time to see Marcy being dragged into the back of a black car with smoked windows. The Libertarian saw Church, nodded and climbed in after her before the car sped swiftly away.

Back at the apartment, Gabe was beyond consoling. Church left him to Niamh’s ministrations while he consulted with Tom.

‘You did your best,’ Tom said.