Chapter
Eighteen
Morton
was out of his depth and he knew it, the creature wearing Tommy
Bryce’s flesh was not some mere bogle that haunted the closes of
tenements, giving fright to pensioners, not was it even one of the
Fae folk. This was something of a different magnitude. It exuded
power, it was a kind of a dreadful but alluring stench. He felt like
prey caught downwind of a lion. It was, as far as he could tell,
given the evidence, the manifestation of cruelty, an independent,
terrifyingly perceptive and intelligent thing. He knew he would have
to be very, very cautious. He also realised he needed to show
confidence, balls, in front of this entity. He went to speak but was
cut off.
“You
are about to ask me what it is I want, why I came here, who I am and
a hundred other questions that are of no importance. The only
question, the one all of you truly seek an answer to is how I can
give you more power.” Buer stated. He had not moved from the
position he had taken when he’d sat down.
“Astute
assumption, but not strictly true.” The other said, Skinner, who’s
presence Buer had not predicted.
“Oh?”
“Yeah,”
Skinner replied. “What I want is for you to give us what you can
and then tell us how to be rid of you. Your presence is not welcome,
you know that.”
“Shut
up, Skinner,” Morton barked. “Let’s hear him oot.”
“You
have, potentially, interesting futures. I have the means, the
knowledge to make you all richer and more powerful than you imagine,
all I would ask in return is an allegiance, in so far as you will
assist me when needed and avoid thwarting my plans when they are
inconvenient to you.” Buer explained.
“What
kind of plans?” Morton said.
“For
fuck sake Alec!” Skinner said, exasperated. He stood up and threw
the tarot card back on the Table. “This is you, right?”
The
card spun across the table, and swerved, unnaturally, as it slid
towards Buer. As the demon went to pick the card up Skinner lunged,
ripping out a large knife from inside his tracksuit bottoms and
ramming it, point first, into the hand of Buer, affixing it to the
table with a hard thump. With a small grunt, Buer turned his head to
face him. “Interesting.”
Morton
also stood up. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing you fish
faced fuck?!” he yelled.
“Simmer
down Alec.” Willie Boyle growled. “This fuckin’ thing is
seriously dodgy.”
Alec’s
face turned red with fury, “You too Willie? Anyone else?”
Donny
Stephenson shrugged. “Aye Alec, I’m no playin’. Remember that
shite in Drumchapel?”
That
gave Alec pause for thought, while Buer just chuckled. “I am
impressed by your collective audacity. However, this is a waste of
time.”
Skinner
yelped and drew his hand back wiggling it as the large blade began to
glow, bubble and melt. Molten metal dribbled down onto Buer’s hand,
sizzling. Ghostly trails of smoke that smelt distinctly of roast ham
rose up from the burning hand. Buer pulled it from the table and
watched the destroyed flesh as the fat ran down his wrist spattering
drops like hot wax. He laughed.
“Fuck
sake! That table cost me a fortune,” Morton hissed, bearing his
teeth. “Enough of this shit. Get to the point you diabolical cunt.”
“There
are sleepers I could guide you to, creatures who could make you all
kings of men, in turn I need access to certain other individuals you
have business dealings with, specifically within the oil and arms
industries.” Buer said.
“Sounds
like bullshit to me Alec,” Willie said. There were grunts of
agreement throughout the room.
“All
right, shut it, I’m thinking.” Alec said and he was. He knew what
Buer was talking about, barely believed it to be true, but then again
he’d just watched a demon inside one of his boys melt a knife over
itself and laugh. This was a dangerous game, but if the sleepers, or
the Auld Yins, as they were known to him, existed, then he could…
He cut himself off from even thinking about that.
He
realised he couldn’t trust the thing, but neither did he want to
piss it off. “Nah, nae deal. Thanks. Noo if you don’t mind, fuck
right off and I mean right off. If I get a whiff you’re in
Glasgow, I’ll make you wish you were back in Hell, you fucker.”
Still
smiling, Buer stood up and saying nothing, turned and walked out the
room. He was quickly followed by the others. Skinner was clearly
furious. “You’re just going to let it go? You know what it could
do?”
“Shut
it, Skinner.” Alec repeated. “You jist wanted some gain out of
this, don’t try and play the Jesus on me ya cunt. Fine, you can
take over Tommy’s businesses. Yer still independent, alright? jist
nae fuckin’ wae ma troops.”
Skinner
was surprised by that but nodded, it was more than he thought he’d
come away with, much more. “Fine, does that include the butcher’s
shop he left in Prince’s bookies?”
Glowering
at him, Alec pointed a chubby finger. “Don’t fuckin’ test me,
or you’ll be spending eternity at the bottom of the Clyde.”
“You
don’t scare me Alec, that fuckin’ thing scares me.” Skinner
retorted as he pointed towards the front door, but he knew better
than to push it, this had been a win, of sorts.
Buer
was out the front door and down the drive. Once he was out of
earshot, Alec placed a hand on Skinner’s shoulder. “We’re no
finished wae that prick, no’ by a long-shot.”
“Whit
d’ye mean?” Skinner asked.
Alec
just gestured with his eyes as Bryce’s car drove off. A second or
two later another car, on the other side of the road started up and
followed it. “Nae point in us gettin’ oor haun’s dirty. Let’s
jist see whit the fucker gets up tae, eh?”
Skinner
looked at him with an impressed smile. “You’re smarter that I
gave you credit for, Alec. Good shout.”
“Right,
noo, get the fuck aff ma property. I don’t want tae hear fae you
until we know exactly whit’s happenin’ wae aw this shite.”
Skinner
nodded. “Cheers Alec. Take care big man,” he said before walking
down the drive. He still had the lamp in the bag and stopped and
turned. “Alec?”
“Fur
fuck sake… whit noo?”
“Do
you by any chance have a contact number for the O.A.?” Skinner
asked.
Morton
sighed. “Aye. You wantin’ rid of that lamp, eh?”
“Might
be worth a bit.” Skinner shrugged.
x
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