The Dark Detective: Venator (9 page)

“Considering he nearly tore your leg off, I would have thought you’d show a bit more interest,” snapped Max.

Sophie stared at him wide-eyed. “You’re being a bully, Max.”

“Oh come off it, Sophie,” said Max, testily. “You’re not a woman: you’re a vicious, liver-eating Level Two demon, so enough with the little lady act.”

“Fine!” hissed Sophie. “Be like that. I’m just trying to be friendly.”

“Well, we’re not friends either,” said Max, dropping his voice, then pausing, choosing his next words more carefully. “But we are colleagues for now, so let’s just concentrate on the job, okay?”

“Whatever you say, Max, darling,” said Sophie, with just a hint of demonic anger flaring behind her beautiful kohl-ringed eyes.

Max looked away.

“Have you ever heard a demon yell for its mother before?” he said. “Think carefully.”

“No. That’s a human thing to do,” her voice still angry.

“So what was all that about?” said Max, ignoring her tone. “It doesn’t fit – that makes me think it could have meaning.”

It paid to have hunches in Max’s line of work; they had an unnerving habit of being right.

Sophie frowned.

“I’ve just thought of something. When I was Down Under I remember hearing some little spawn talk about the Mother: not
his
mother but The Mother – with capital letters and everything. It’s a demon myth, so it’s probably just exaggerated nonsense. You know how we like to talk.”

“Tell me anyway,” said Max, leaning forwards.

“Well, as far as I can recall, the legend has it that once upon the time there were no demons and just Adam and Eve prancing around in the Garden of Eden, blah, blah, blah – you know the story. Well, there was all that dark stuff running around with nothing to do and it formed itself into the Mother of all Evil. Perhaps you’ve heard of her? The legend says it’s from her that all demons are born. All those little balls of demonic energy come up here, suck out the soul from some human and voila! You end up with the finished article like me.”

“Dear God! You’re saying this Mother could be real?” said Max, softly.

“No, I’m not saying that: I’m just repeating a legend that I heard from back home. It couldn’t possibly be true, could it?”

“I don’t know, Sophie. I hope it’s not true but let’s look at the facts.”

He ticked them off on his fingers.

“Firstly, the Brood turn up without passports and even the PTBs don’t seem able to stop them. Secondly, you agree to help me with the nest at the Ritz – and that’s not something that happens every day – a demon helping a human; and then thirdly, the PTBs bring you back and make you sign a Blood Oath so that you have to work for me. Then Ralph is dispatched before he can tell me about some amulet, and we find another Brood demon dismembering Ralph in public, in a church! None of it is exactly everyday demon practice.”

A look of dawning horror spread itself across Sophie’s luminous face. “Oh, Max! I have an awful feeling... you could be right!”

The Book

Max was feeling distinctly uneasy after Sophie’s lesson in demon lore and it was clear that she was more than a little rattled as well.

“We need to find out more about the Mother,” said Max, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“I’m open to suggestions,” said Sophie, who sounded rather subdued.

Max sighed. “There’s one person I can think of who might be able to help us, but...”

Sophie looked up.

“But what?” she said crisply. “It’s not like we have so many more appealing choices right now.”

Max swallowed. The person he had in mind was the Professor. He wasn’t keen to reveal too much to Sophie but the truth was that the last time he and Max had met, Max had threatened to kill him with his bare hands. It wasn’t likely the Professor had either forgotten or forgiven.

“But what?” persisted Sophie.

“But he might say ‘no’,” said Max.

“Is he human?” pressed Sophie.

“I guess so,” said Max, cagily.

“Then why on earth would he refuse to help us? We are the instruments of light and on the side of the PTBs and puppy dogs and small children and...”

Max tried to smile but his face felt frozen.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just that, well, me and this guy – we have some history.”

“Oh?” said Sophie, looking intrigued. “Go on.”

Max shrugged and wouldn’t meet her piercing gaze.

“Let’s just say he’s not my biggest fan.”

Sophie looked disappointed at the lack of juicy detail in his reply – she did enjoy a good gossip, the more vitriolic the better.

“Come on,” said Max suddenly, “we’d better get going. I’ll tell you about him on the way.”

Sophie stood up and flinched.

Max felt guilty. He’d forgotten that her ankle, although healing amazingly quickly, was still not up to full strength. He sighed. Having Sophie as a partner was going to get pricey.

“We’ll catch a cab,” he said. “It’ll give your ankle a chance to heal.”

Sophie smiled happily. She really hated travelling by public transport.

“But don’t get used to it,” said Max. “The Yard can’t afford cab fares – this will have to come out of my salary.” What there was of it.

“Max, darling!” she gushed. “Surely you can put just a teensy weensy little cab fare on expenses – just this once? It is an emergency after all.”

Max frowned. His bank balance was, well, pitiful.

“Hmm, maybe... just this once,” he said. “You know, you’re a bad influence, Sophie.”

“Oh, I do hope so!” she said, giggling happily.

Max flagged down a taxi on Cambridge Circus. “Maze Hill, please,” he said.

He could tell that the driver was pleased to have such a good – which meant expensive – fare.

The taxi zoomed through Soho, turned down to the river and chugged along the Embankment behind a queue of other taxis. Max was mesmerised by the fare counter as it steadily notched up the amount. He’d never spent this much money on a cab fare before.

“So, tell me about this human – this man – we’re going to see,” said Sophie.

She looked in her element, settled in the back of the taxi and reapplying her crimson lipstick, using the mirror in her compact.

Max wondered just how painful her ankle really was. Part of him was tempted to test it to find out, but then decided that such an act would be ungentlemanly and, in the circumstances, uncalled for. Maybe Sophie was right. Maybe he could put the cab fare on expenses.

He realised Sophie was waiting for an answer and tried to pull himself together: not easy with a Level Two demon in such close proximity.

“His name is Professor Hamaliel,” he managed to say at last. “He’s an expert in demonology. Well, he used to be: he retired quite a few years back. But if anyone can tell us about the Mother, I’d lay odds that it’ll be him. Whether or not he’ll pass on the information is anyone’s guess...”

“What did you two fall out about?” asked Sophie, curiously.

Max paused. “It’s personal,” he said, with an air of finality in his voice.

Sophie shrugged. Her attitude seemed to say, ‘I can wait. I’ll find out sooner or later’.

“Does he know what you do?” said Sophie.

“Yes.” Max hesitated, then decided that he could tell Sophie a bit more. “He used to work for the Yard as... a consultant, but... as I said, he’s retired.”

The driver interrupted their conversation.

“This is Maze Hill. What number d’you want, mate?”

“It’s that big house on the right,” said Max. “The one with the iron gates.”

The taxi swung onto the gravelled drive, its wheels making a satisfying crunching sound.

“Here you are, son. That’ll be £43.80 – unless you want me to wait.”

“No, thanks,” said Max, shelling out the notes. “That won’t be necessary.”

The taxi driver looked disappointed. He’d have to look for another fare back into town or his profit margin would be thinner than he’d like.

Sophie looked annoyed, too. But what was new?

The house was in the middle of a large park and there wasn’t a Tube station or bus stop in sight.

Max gave the driver £45 and waited patiently for a receipt. The driver wrote it out rather grudgingly and drove off in a huff.

“How do you know that the Professor will be in?” said Sophie, watching the taxi disappear with a pained expression on her face.

“He’ll be in,” said Max. “He never goes out.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“Hmm. Interesting,” said Sophie.

Max rang the bell. It echoed somewhere deep inside the house. They waited a long time before quiet footsteps could be heard approaching.

There was a pause then the door swung open silently.

The man standing at the entrance was elderly with thick grey hair and a white beard. He had a slight stoop but otherwise looked fit and alert. It was impossible to tell his age.

“Detective Darke,” he said with a look of distaste on his lined face. “It’s been a long time. It must be something serious for you to seek me out. And you’ve brought a friend. How nice. I suppose you want to come in.”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” said Max, stiffly. He hated asking favours from a man he despised.

They followed the old man down a walnut-panelled corridor into an attractive Edwardian sitting room.

The old man waved them to a settee facing him. He paused, waiting for Max to speak, but Max sat stony-faced, staring into space.

“Seeing as the Detective hasn’t got the manners to introduce us, may I take the trouble, my dear, of asking you your name? I am Professor Emmanuel Hamaliel. A bit of a mouthful, but I’m used to it now.”

“Charmed!” said Sophie. “My name is Sophie Judas.”

“Delighted to meet you Miss Judas,” said the Professor. “I must admit,” he went on, “I’m rather surprised to see you, Detective, with a Level Two demon, even one as beautiful as this young lady. A Chava demon, I believe?”

“How clever of you!” twinkled Sophie. “May I ask how you knew?”

“Ah, long years of experience,” said the Professor, smiling. “Although you seem to be missing your horns.”

“How sweet of you to notice!” gushed Sophie.

“One develops the nose, you know.”

“Oh!” said Sophie, sounding rather put out.

Max hid a smile.

“So,” said the Professor, turning to Max. “How is your dear grandmother these days?”

Max’s face flushed with anger and Sophie looked delighted at the possibility of a violent exchange so early in their meeting.

“Don’t mention her name!” hissed Max, his voice low with menace.

“I was merely being polite,” said the Professor icily.

There was an uncomfortable pause.

“Well then,” said the Professor slowly, “What brings you to darken my door after so many months?”

“We – I – need your help,” said Max, between gritted teeth.

“Dear, dear,” said the Professor, kindly. “And what makes you think I’d want to help you ever again?”

“It’s not for me,” said Max, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the arm of the settee. “There’s been some unusual demon behaviour – Level Threes are back in London for the first time in centuries. I need to know what I’m up against. I hope you can help. But maybe you’re not as well informed as you used to be.”

“Touché!” said the Professor. “I see your temper hasn’t improved, Detective – or your manners.”

“I always thought substance was more important than appearance – one of the many ways in which we differ,” spat Max.

Sophie’s gaze flickered between the two men, a smile starting at the corners of her mouth. Low level bickering was just more grist to the chaos-mill that Level Twos loved to grind – whether or not they had been saved by the PTBs.

“Why, gentlemen!” she said, happily. “I can see there’s some history between you – would you like me to leave the room, or perhaps I can share in your little secret?”

With a visible effort, Max pulled himself together. The Professor looked even more cold and haughty.

“We’ve been tracking a nest of Level Threes,” said Max, struggling to keep his voice even and his demeanour professional. “They’re called the Brood. We’ve taken out one nest at the Ritz and a solo operator at Temple Church. For some reason it was dismembering a Level One called Ralph – one of my snitches, but a nobody for all that. Oh, and I think they took some sort of amulet from him. I didn’t get a chance to see it, but it seems likely that’s the reason he was killed.”

Or to keep him from talking. Max thought he’d keep that bit to himself.

“And the young lady’s involvement?” said the Professor, indicating towards Sophie.

Max took a deep breath. “She’s my assistant. She’s been sent by the Powers That Be to help me stop the Brood from completing their objective – whatever that is. She’s here to help me... deal with them.”

For the first time the Professor looked genuinely surprised, impressed even.

“Well, well. That’s very unusual. In fact, that could be unique, but I’d have to check my books.”

“And there’s something else you should know,” said Max. “When we took out the Brood demon at the crypt in Temple Church, he screamed the word ‘Mother’ as he died. It seemed odd. Sophie – we – thought it might mean something... like the Mother of...”