Marla Medizza and the Miopsa mirror. Chapters twelve and thirteen.

Chapter twelve

Grizzly Gretna Green.

The steel beast is sitting in silence a few feet away from them. They are back in the service station, standing in a telephone box.’

‘We are back, I do not know how.’ utters Marla.

‘Marla dearest, we need to make haste,’ says Babulous, clambering onto the passenger seat. Marla climbs in, twists the ignition key, and the black beast roars.’

‘Next stop the Isle of Muck, let’s make haste, err, I mean let’s go’,’ pronounces Marla.

The evening air is chilled and serene, cooling the interior of the car, Marla’s mind is set to reflection. She realises the visit she is undertaking has so many consequences if she fails.

Her brain is met by a crushing blow as the fog in her mind clears to show the scale of her quest. Her newfound realisation is dragged from her psyche as Babulous lets rip an almighty fart. This time she remains silent; she smiles. This time she is relieved he has joined her till the task is complete, no matter what occurs. She needs him, farts included.

‘Marla dearest, a signpost, Gretna Green, five miles north. I am convinced we will find a suitable hostelry to rest and eat. But if all else fails, my pocket is warm and wriggling.’

‘I would nibble on our Stella’s manky toenail chippings, before sticking a gross fat worm in my mouth. Thank you very much.’

‘You should vary your diet a little more, you gross creature.’

‘Oh, I do Marla, but worms are my favourite, they are juicylicious, a feast to behold.’

‘You are gross.’

‘Yum, yum, yum,’ snorts Babulous, shoving a lump of wrigglers into his mouth.

‘Babulous, please stop making those horrid noises.’

‘Which noises Marla dearest?’

‘The um's and ah’s you make when you are shoving a pile of grossness into your mouth.’

‘It is how we eat Marla dearest.’

‘Well, please try to close your mouth when chewing, you’re in the human dimension.’

‘Mam will be worried sick about me. I wonder if Dad knows I am not there.’ she grimaces.

‘Your mother is an incredible woman and witch, Marla dearest,’ slurps Babulous as another worm slithers up between his lips.

‘The best in the world, although she will be hitting the gin bottle by now,’ giggles Marla.

‘Ah, I have never understood the reason you humans enjoy the taste of alcohol. I consumed a bottle of Eau de Cologne, vile was the flavour.’

Marla erupts into fits of laughter.

‘Eau de Cologne is an aftershave Babulous, no wonder it tasted so dreadful!’

‘An aftershave, what is this?’

‘It is something men splash on after they have shaved the stubble from their faces. There are many kinds. Women wear Eau de Parfum, or perfume.’

‘Do you wear perfume after you have shaved your face, Marla dearest?’

‘I do not have facial stubble, do I, err?’ Marla stutters, studying her face in the mirror.

‘Women do not shave their faces, well, most of them. Although Tracy Albright who lives three doors up the street could do with a quick once over.’

‘But the words on the bottle said it contained alcohol.’

‘Yes, it did, along with many other additives. It doesn’t mean you can drink it; it could have poisoned you.’

‘Ah, that’s why it tasted revolting.’

‘You are amusing, Babulous, odd, but amusing. Aftershave drinking will not be on the menu this evening. We will find someplace to eat proper food, I am starving.’

Before long, the blackness of dusk is dotted with little orange specks as a town becomes visible to their eyes.

‘This must be Gretna.’

‘Gretna Green, the home of hopeless romantics.’

‘What do you mean Babulous?’

‘Gretna Green is legendary Marla dearest; it is the place that human people elope to join in wedded matrimony.’

‘Ah, I see. If anybody ever wanted to marry me, then I choose a church ceremony. The aisles are dotted with cream roses. My dress, white silk, with a flowing milky trail against a chocolate floor. Who am I kidding, ignore me I am being a hopeless romantic?’

‘It is vital that we hold on to our dreams and ambitions, Marla.’

‘It doesn’t matter, please ignore me.’

‘A human man shall be honoured to walk by your side through life. I would be, if I were not two feet high, covered in fur and an elveer.’

‘The honour is mine Babulous. Although you may struggle to find a suit to fit.’ she chuckles.

Silence enters the space. She turns to him, his eyes etched with poignancy.

‘Oh Babulous, I am so sorry, I didn’t…’

‘You remind me of Babantia, taller and less fur. She yearned to marry in a chapel, but elveer are not granted such a grand ceremony.’

‘Babantia sounds wonderful and caring, you must miss her Babulous.’

‘She was, anyhow, we must keep focused.’

‘Look, Marla, up ahead, The Sporran and Haggis.’

‘Traditional sounding name, I suppose. I hope we will find sustenance and a majestic Scottish welcome.’

Marla zips the car into a parking space, her empty stomach dictating her every action.

‘Not the most inviting looking place I have ever seen,’ she asserts, gawking at the dark windows.

‘Come on Babulous, I am starving, needs must.’ she utters.

A loud creaking sound from the dirty old entrance door signals their arrival. A terrifying looking place with dust-laden floor and chairs. Candles flicker in twisted iron candelabra. Sabres, and daggers of varying shapes and sizes fixed to the cracked panelled walls. The skulls of animals are haunting. Muted in speech and yet witness to their entrance. In the corner sits a decrepit old man, smoking billowing from his gate, pipe in hand. Another couple is deep in conversation, beside a roaring fire.

‘Nice place,’ whispers Marla sarcastically.

‘His kind is not accepted here,’ dictates a woman of hefty stature behind the bar.

‘He’s with me.’

‘I don’t care who he is with, lassie, his kind are not welcome in my tavern!’

‘What about my kind, am I welcome in your establishment?’

‘What are you saying, lassie?’

‘I am asking if white witches are allowed in your crusty old tavern!?’

‘The aged man perched in the corner of the room yanks his pipe from his cheek. The couple next to the blazing fire turn their heads and gawk at the burly barmaid. There is an uncomfortable pause as she seeks to uncover a suitable return to Marla’s question.

‘Maybe we should leave Marla, dearest,’ whispers Babulous, clutching onto her arm.

‘We have as much right to be here as anyone else!’ she snarls.

Silence is consumed by a pistol duel at high noon on the western plains. Marla stands defiantly, Babulous hides behind a chair. Vultures soar high above in hope of human pickings. The barmaid squints and glares, her hand twitching. Marla moves her left hand, ready to snatch her gun from its holster. Silence allows every minuscule sound to the fore. Marla moves first. She is too fast for the aging barmaid, snatching at her purse.

‘Well, are they?’

‘Look, lassie, we don’t want any upset in here. I run a respectable establishment.’

‘Neither do we, we have travelled far and are hungry and thirsty.’

The buxom barmaid shuffles, glancing at Marla’s prosthetic limb protruding from her three-quarter length dungarees.

‘Alright, lassie, as you wish. Have a seat over there away from everybody else,’ she directs, pointing to the corner of the room with her crimson taloned fat fingers.

‘I need food and a room for the night if that is not too much trouble?’

‘Menus far side of the bar, help yourselves,’ huffs the burly woman.

‘Two pints of cider, when you have a spare moment.’

‘So much for the famous Scottish hospitality, hey Babulous.’

‘Let us just sit in silence. We do not want to provoke her. She looks mightily vexed Marla dearest.’

Marla pulls up a chair in the saloon, glances at the horses outside, and places her silver Colt Peacemaker onto the dusty surface. She opens the menu, her eyes excitedly awaiting the luscious delights.

Pie 2 pound, 50 pence.

Marla flips the menu, the pages are blank; she views the back, then the front, empty. A couple of pints of cider crash against the table, sending a cloud of dust billowing into the air. Marla leers.

‘What will it be?’ requests the barmaid, arms folded under her mountainous chest.

‘Hmm, let me think, the choices are endless,’ remarks Marla, her glass brimming with sarcasm.

‘I will opt for, for, pie please and for you Babulous?’

‘Well, I have never eaten a pie, so yes I am gratified to eat pie with you Marla dearest.’

‘Two pies please, thank you so much for your warm and welcoming hospitality!’

The menus are snatched from her hand as Scotland's example of a not so fine welcome totters back to the bar, huffing and puffing, the enormous huffer, puffer, blubber fish.

‘I apologise for her; most human beings are decent.’

‘It’s alright Marla, I understand her reservation. Elveer are ugly, I am ugly, human people are horrified when they meet us.

‘Hey, don’t say that Babulous, you are not ugly. The only thing ugly in here is her heart, hairstyle, face, personality. To me, you are perfect.’

‘She adopted the wrong profession, stupid heifer.’

‘Thank you, Marla dearest. You are extremely kind.’

The noise of ceramic crashing against wood snaps them out of a simple and blissful moment.

‘Two pies, enjoy!’ huffs the barmaid before shuffling into the distance.

Babulous pushes his hand into the pie, dragging out an enormous hunk of meat and stuffing it into his mouth before leaping from his chair and gasping.

Marla giggles ‘The food is scorching Babulous, you need to blow on the pie before you put it into your mouth.’

Babulous glugs the cider ‘Hot, hot, hot,’ he yelps.

‘You are odd, but very likable Babulous.’

‘Me?’

‘Yes, you.’

‘I cannot recall the last moment someone suggested they admired me; most human people run screaming once they happen upon me.’

‘You are incredibly unique, Babulous, and special to me. Now eat your pie, remember to blow first, ha.’

Marla and Babulous giggle, chew, chuckle, and scowl while sharing life stories. Beneath the scrutinised glower of the red-maned, buxom barmaid.

Babulous belches ‘Oops pardon me.’

‘Two more of your lovely ciders!’ orders Babulous, slipping from his seat.

The bar lady scowls at them both. Marla taps her fingers on the table. The bar lady huffs and gasps, picking up two glasses from behind the bar.

‘It is wonderfully flavoursome, this cider ‘hic’, fantastical,’ he belches.

‘I said you’d enjoy it, much nicer than a bottle of aftershave.’

Babulous bellows with amusement before falling backward from the chair and hitting the chalky floor.

‘I think you have had enough cider, young man!’

‘No, ‘hic’, one more Marla, one more.’

‘No more, wait here drunkard, I will settle the bill.’

‘Two pies, four ciders, that’s nine pounds.’ snarls the barmaid.

‘We don’t need the two ciders now, thank you.’

‘That is not my problem. You requested them. I poured them, nine pounds.’

Marla turns to the couple next to the open fire.

‘May I offer you these drinks, it’s a pity to watch them go to waste?’

‘Oh gosh, err, that’s generous of you, thank you,’ the gentleman beams. Marla smiles, shifting back to the barmaid who is holding arms folded, sardonic grin slapped on her pudgy face.

‘It costs nothing,’ scowls Marla.

‘I do not know what you are trying to infer, lassie,’ utters the barmaid.

‘Civility, it costs absolutely nothing. When we walked in here, you didn’t know who we were. You judged us based on how we looked, specifically my friend Babulous---’

‘Ha, I do not know what you…’

‘---I am not finished,’ Marla screams. The tavern falls silent, as does the sour-faced barmaid.

‘My Mam taught me that politeness costs nothing, nor should you have to pay for it. I realise why this place is desolate. It is because people cannot stand the sight of you. How would you react if people judged you on your weight, or your lack of skill in applying lipstick, or your sickly sweet perfume?’

‘No, I guess not,’ she responds, fidgeting.

‘We need accommodation for one night. Do you know of a local hotel?’ enquires Marla.

‘You will find a hostel, a mile up the road. Ask for Angus, he will take excellent care of you!’ she concedes sheepishly.

‘I hope the welcome is more cordial than the one we got when we walked in here.’

The barmaid grimaces, her cheeks a splendid plum hue, bothered by her earlier behaviour. Marla turns and strides back to the table. Babulous has disappeared. She sits and waits, presuming he is in the restroom. Ten minutes pass, her concern growing. She stands and wanders to the bar.

‘My friend Babulous, did any of you see where he went?’

The aged gentleman evades Marla’s stare. The couple next to the fire sink into the drinking glasses.

‘You two, did you witness my friend leave the room?’

The bar lady looks apprehensive, glimpsing at the other patrons. Each of them wishing the mouth of hell’s gate to open and consume them.

‘What is wrong with you people? He is defenceless and small. Why won’t any of you acknowledge me? Shame on you, shame on every one of you!’

Marla hurls a stool against the bar and storms out of the lounge.

The black of night is a lonely and frightening place when you are alone. A frigid and unforgiving reminder to her that friends light up the darkest of moments.

‘Oh Babulous, where are you?’ she sobs in the stark silence.

The tavern door opens, the barmaid walks toward her.

‘I apologise for my behaviour earlier. I should not have treated you that way, lassie, please forgive me.’

‘It’s alright, I apologise for snapping at you. We were hungry and tired. Please, can you help me find my friend, he will be frightened and alone.’

The woman gasps, ‘You are bold. I can see that you will need to be. For the information I impart to you now, will test every ounce of fortitude within you.’

‘Please, tell me what I must do?’

The woman gasps, Marla senses a raw fear within her. She opens her clenched fist, revealing part of an enormous claw.

‘In the tavern earlier, your friend rose from his seat and walked out of the door. I spotted him outside through the window. The next moment, a ghastly and yet familiar shadow consumed the space where he stood, and then he was gone.

‘I don’t understand. What shadow, what are you saying to me?’

This claw in my hand, not an animal claw, lassie. This is the talon of a vile and demonic beast. A creature that has stalked these parts for many years, laying waste to the inhabitants of Gretna for decades. The creature that has snatched your friend is the Baskerville. I am risking my life just having this conversation with you. You noticed the tavern was empty, that’s because the villagers choose not to come out at night because the witching hour is when the Baskerville strikes.’

‘I don’t follow. What is this Baskerville?’

‘Let me put it to you so you understand, lassie. Your friend is in grave peril. The night is unforgiving around these parts. The Baskerville is a demonic beast forged from hellfire itself, half man, half jackal. Legend has it, he was a prince who signed a pact with the devil to free his bride from the misery of malignancy for his soul. If the legend holds steadfast, the devil agreed, but instead of curing his bride, he cut her throat, thus releasing her from the torture of cancer. The prince was furious and struck the devil in a fit of madness. The devil sucked out his soul and changed him into a monster before casting him into the mountains. It is rumoured the Baskerville has remained there since, killing creatures of all kinds and eating them. The slighter the prey, the simpler the slaughter. You must travel to the mountains. Your friend does not have long, he may not even be alive.’

‘Why are you helping me?’

‘I sense something in you, lassie, an almighty power I haven’t come across for many years. The last occasion I felt such a powerful force was the day of March thirteenth, nineteen hundred and seventy-nine. The day Zenobia Lucifus snatched the life from my little girl Heather. Which is why when you arrived at the tavern, I demanded you leave because I was afraid? I have a sixth sense in matters such as these. If I am correct, the power raging within you must come to the fore. You will need to summon it and quickly.’

‘I need to find him, no matter the consequence.’

‘If you wish your friend back, you will need to travel a few miles north to the base of the black peak. From there you must ascend the mountain with the strength of mind and spirit, lassie. If you reach the peak, you will see a cave. We, the villagers, refer to it as the doorway to the inferno. Lurking in there will be Baskerville. Heed my words, lassie, and heed them good. The beast lies in waiting for his next kill. You will need to work fast. If caught, the demon will tear your flesh from the bone and gouge out your eyeballs before feasting on you. Please take this with you on your quest,’ she demands, handing Marla a piece of thick muslin.

‘What is it?’ she enquires, untying the string.

‘It is a soul drinker, a dagger forged from many layers of steel, and the only way you can conquer Baskerville. It belonged to my father and his father before him. Legend has it that the will of the almighty himself is captured within the blade. Now here comes the troublesome part…’

‘I thought you had mentioned the troublesome part. Climbing a ridge in complete blackness with no safety gear and reduced vision. Walking into a hell cave, or whatever you claimed it to be and massacring a demon…’

‘Hear my words, lassie, and follow my instruction if you wish to live. To dispatch Baskerville, you will need to get close enough to pierce its heart. You must plunge the knife hard into the ribcage, just below the throat. If you cannot pierce the evil heart of the beast, your existence will be no more. I must go. I must return to the tavern. Follow the moon, lassie, it will guide you.’

‘Wait, what do I…’

The lady sinks into the cloak of the black.

Marla stares at the blade, sighs, and places the dagger into her bag as she paces toward the car.

‘I need you, Mum, I am so frightened,’ she mutters to herself, plonking her bottom onto the driver’s seat and twisting the key. She pauses for a moment, glancing at the moon.

‘I can’t do this. I must do this. Babulous rescued me once. He is counting on me. But I am not a hero. I failed to rescue our cat from a bloody tree. I just want to be back at home.’

‘Pull yourself together, Marla. Do this. There is no choice,’ she insists to herself.

She presses on the accelerator, beginning her passage toward the black mountain. She drowns in a sea of despair; her anxiety is racing out of control.

‘You are more powerful than you realise, Marla Medizza,’ flood her head as the iron beast stalks the gravel.

‘I am Marla Medizza. I am coming for you Babulous. If you can hear me, I am coming for that monster. I am going to slay that evil beast, I promise you.’

Chapter thirteen

Mountains and monsters.

Marla pushes her face deep into the thick black molasses of night. She relies on the moonlight and a slight beam of headlights to guide her to the gates of hell. The steal beast swims through the thick gloop of black, as the silver of the moon casts an enormous rocky black silhouette in the distance.

She dismounts the steel beast, allowing it much needed rest, and gapes at the goliath rocky mountain she must subdue.

As with David, rock in hand, she marches into battle.

‘Mam, if you can hear me, you can read my mind. I just want to tell you I love you so much. I need you to hold me close in your heart, never let go.

The fear Marla feels at this moment is consuming. A dread she realises has been sent to stop her foot from pacing forward. Her friend is at the peak of this blackened hell and she must save him, no matter the cost. She forces the soul drinker into the pocket of her dungarees.

‘Okay girl, it’s time to show them what makes a Mancunian girl.’

‘Had you listened to me, I would not be climbing a bloody crusty old mountain,’ she trembles, hoisting herself onto the sharp, icy rock and begins her ascent.

The stone is damp and slippery. Each pull on a rock demanding every ounce of her. The air temperature is descending as she ascends further and closer toward the night skies. The thought of her friend, alone and frightened in the darkness, spurs.

‘Please be alive Babulous, fart as much as you wish, it may send the monster running for its life,’ she wishes, gripping the next rock with her freezing, bloodied hand.

Rock by rock, yard by yard. She drags her broken frame with every ounce of spirit within her. Her eyes fixed on the dark summit. She stops for a moment to catch her breath, looking below. The lights from the houses below, sprinkles of glistening dust upon a canvas of black.

‘I need to find him, I have to help him,’ she pleads, yanking herself up, closer to the macabre

The mist shrouds her skin, a wet coat as she wrenches herself toward the bleak, lifting herself over and on to the peak. She is broken; She has done it. Whatever happens, there is no going backward. The mute is ringing as she drags herself cautiously into the abyss. A gloomy hollow in the mountainside twenty feet ahead becomes visible. She hesitates, her feet cemented to the scrape. Her heart thumping out of her rib cage, her fear pressing hard against her oesophagus.

‘This is it, girl, it’s now or never,’ she confides to herself, pacing forward nervously. She reaches into her bag, pulling out her wand of magic as the blackness consumes her silhouette.

‘Babulous, are you in there?’ she whispers. The wand of magic glows as she turns to page five in the book of incantations.

Page five

Let there be light.

Level of difficulty 1.

Quod est in tenebris lumen facti sunt.

All that is dark becomes light.

Marla paces nervously in the obscurity, not knowing what misery awaits her but driven by her love for Babulous.

‘Okay girl here goes nothing, Quod est in tenebris lumen facti sunt,’ she whispers.

The tip of the wand emits a blaze of silver light. She points it into the cave and pushes forward. The stink is repulsive, strangling her nasal passages and churning her gut.

‘Babulous, where the heck are you?’

‘Marla, I am over here, please hurry’ she hears in the distance. Marla sprints toward his cry; she trips crashing to the stone.

‘Get up, girl, get up,’ she commands.

Hoisting herself from stone, she clambers into the blackness. The glow from the wand, her only guide. She spots Babulous, cowering, bound against the cave wall.

‘Oh Babulous, I am so sorry. I should not have left you alone. Please forgive me. We have limited time. I need to untie these knots,’ she whispers, frantically tugging at the twine.

‘I knew you would come for me Marla dearest; the beast is close by, please hurry.’

Marla pulls the soul stealer from her bag and frantically cuts at the rope on the hands of Babulous. A vile echo pricks her ears.

‘What is it, Marla dearest?’

‘Hush Babulous, did you hear that?’

Babulous stares at her, mute to her question.’

She is perplexed. ‘What are you doing Babulous?’

‘You instructed me to hush, I was doing as you suggested.’

‘Babulous, I meant, oh it doesn’t matter.’

‘It is time to get off this rock, this place is giving me the shits.’

A macabre wailing cuts through the blackness, Marla cuts through the rope.

With each slice of the blade, the vibration of footsteps increases in strength. Her heart pounding, her palms moist, the dagger slips from her grip. The roaring and wailing of horror is surging toward them. She snatches at the rope. Babulous twists and squirms. She recovers the blade, cutting as swiftly as her paralysed hands allow. The screams consume her; the demon is close by, on top of them. She yanks the rope from his wrists, casting it away, before lifting Babulous upward.

‘Marla dearest, we need to get out of here quickly!’

Marla runs as swiftly as her aching leg will allow. She does not look backward; she knows if she does her heart will cease beating. The monster is increasing on them, the cave now a chamber reflecting the horrid sounds erupting from its gait.

‘Faster Marla!’ screams Babulous.

‘I can’t go any quicker!’ she pants.

She begins the ascension, slipping on the wet rocky surface. Babulous grips onto her, the demon is behind her; she is devoured by foul-smelling breath.

‘I cannot run any longer,’ she wheezes, grinding to a halt and twisting. The demonic black apparition with eyes of hellfire lunges toward her. Its fanged gait ready to tear the flesh from her bones.

‘Leave us alone!’ she shrieks.

The mountain quakes as a torrent of rocks crash around them. An Iris burning brilliant light blasts from her fingertips, like the cracks of sparklers on a chilly November night. The beast wails in agony, crashing against the rock-laden ground. Marla turns to run Babulous, his fist pushed against his eyes. The creature climbs to its feet, lunging at Marla, his talon tearing at the flesh on her forearm. Babulous lunges at the beast, but it swipes at him, propelling his body into the blackened sky. It mounts on Marla, her nasal passages drowning in a vile stench. She stares in horror as the beast snarls and presses hard on her windpipe. She struggles for air as the face of the beast moves closer, snarling, screaming. The light in her eyes fades as her life flashes before her eyes. Her moment has come, her fate sealed. This is the day she will die. She splutters as the pressure on her throat strangles the light from her eyes.

‘Marla Medizza, you are stronger than you realise. Free your power,’ whispers a voice in her mind.

Her eyelids snap open, her pupils transform from blue to silver. The beast hoists its bloody taloned paw above her throat and thrusts it downward. Marla twists, gripping the soul eater from the ground and plunging the steel blade deep into the ribcage of the satanic being. It howls in anguish. She yanks herself from under its grasp as it falls lifeless against the crumbling rock. The blackness of silence returns. Marla is wounded. Babulous lies motionless a few feet from her. She hobbles toward him, her prosthetic leg distorted and painful against her skin.

‘Babulous, please wake up, please don’t die,’ she sobs.

Suddenly, his eyes open ‘Marla dearest, what happened?’

‘I will tell you what happened Babulous, back there at the Tavern. I asked you to stay put while I paid the bill. No, not you, oh you have to go outdoors. Acting the demented tourist, inspecting the bloody place!’ she snaps.

‘I apologise Marla dearest, next time I will take heed.’

‘I am not kidding with you. We have a task to complete. No more clowning!’

‘Sorry Marla dearest,’ he whimpers.

‘We have to be careful. We do not know what dangers lie ahead of us. Anyhow, the beast is dead.’

‘Well done, I knew you were special Marla dearest,’ utters Babulous, being helped to his feet.

‘You are bleeding Marla.’

‘I am fine, just a scratch. Come on, we need to get off this godforsaken mountainside.’

Marla fiddles with her prosthetic leg and secures it before they begin their descent. She walks a few steps and stops, Babulous turns to her.

‘What is wrong, Marla dearest?’

‘We have to go back, Babulous. The soul of a prince is trapped inside that monster. We need to release him, to set him free.’

‘Marla, we cannot. We need to step back into the light. This mountain is an evil force.’

‘Will you help me?’

‘I am by your side Marla, no matter.’

‘Marla, are you sure that is what you want to do?’

‘Please Babulous.’

‘As you wish Marla, dearest.’

Babulous huffs and puffs as he follows behind her.

They trudge nervously to where the monster is lying. Marla crouches, pressing her hand against the monster’s chest.’

‘I cannot detect a heartbeat, Babulous,’ she whispers, heaving a gasp of relief.

‘Can you help free his soul Babulous?’

‘I will try with every ounce of my power Marla dearest, please stand back.’

Babulous places his hands over the monster. He closes his eyes. Marla looks on in wonderment. A crimson glow emanates from his palms.

‘Mortatus retanto collozus!’ he orders.

A blast of intense heat seers against Marla’s skin. Babulous shakes vigorously. The creature rises into the cloak of night, twisting and turning before them. An explosion of brilliant white light sets the coal canvas of night aflame. The mountainside shifts underfoot, Marla steadies herself, her pupils wide with amazement. An arc of blistering white light crashes against the body of the beast. The mountainside explodes, Marla is flung backward. A black cloud of dust wraps around her body. The sound of screams penetrating her eardrums. Marla opens her eyes, the cloud of dust settles. She spots Babulous; he is lying against a rock. Lifting her exhausted frame, she slides over to where he is lying. ‘Babulous, are you okay?’

His body trembles, he farts, his eyes gradually open.

‘Babulous, you are alive,’ she announces, lifting his weary body from the ground and caressing him gently.

‘Babulous, I am so sorry. I will never ask you to do another spell. Please forgive me.’

‘Marla…. I,’ he whispers. His frail, lifeless body slumped against her.

‘Babulous, you are weak. Please don’t talk, I will get us to safety. Babulous looks at Marla and smiles, hoisting his arm and pointing to the midnight sky. Marla looks upwards. A spectral vision of a man is hovering above their heads. He is smiling at them both and waving.

‘You did it Babulous, you saved his soul!’

‘He is at rest now Babulous,’ she whispers, as the prince slips away into the blackness.

‘Praise you, my friend,’ utters Marla, squeezing Babulous.

‘Come on, Babulous, let’s get ourselves off this bloody, crusty mountain. I think a couple of pints of cider might be just the tonic,’ she whispers into his ear.

Marla can pick up the sound of voices, the sound rising as they draw closer to the foot of the mountain. They descend the last rock. They are met by the townsfolk, including the barmaid from the tavern. Marla and Babulous drag themselves cautiously toward the crowd of people. The barmaid walks toward them both.

‘I knew I was right when I said I sensed an immense power in you, lassie.’

‘I just did as you advised and killed Baskerville with the soul eater you gave to me.’

‘You are not hearing me, lassie. A human and the soul eater dagger are not a match for the Baskerville. Many have died trying, including my Father and his father before him. God rest their souls.’

‘What are you saying to me?’

‘I am saying you are a powerful force, all-consuming, the likes of which, I have only ever sensed one time.’

‘But what if your feeling was wrong, that thing may have torn me to pieces.’

‘Stopping you attempting to rescue your friend, lassie?’

‘No, he needed me.’

‘There are many powerful forces in the universe, lassie. But one rises above them, a force within us.’

‘Which is?’

‘The power of love, lassie, the reason you faced the unknown and rescued your friend.’

‘What you accomplished up there took courage, great courage. Not only did you free the spirit of the prince. You have ended hundreds of years of fear. Your bravery has freed the townsfolk from a life of misery.’

Marla is overwhelmed and for once speechless as the villagers cheer. She embraces Babulous.

‘It wasn’t me who freed the prince, my good friend Babulous did.’ she announces.

‘Thank you, little Elveer. We are incredibly grateful. Do you need a room for the night?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Come with me, lassie.’

Marla and Babulous head back toward the village. She is relieved she found Babulous and determined not to let him out of her sight again. They arrive back at the tavern. It is packed to the rafters with the townsfolk cheering. Marla feels regal as she welcomes the free drinks, hugs, and handshakes. She acknowledges the genuine hero, the wearied little furry Elveer in her arms.

‘Thank you Babulous, for everything,’ she whispers into his ear.

Marla knows she must satisfy one task before she sleeps. Something that has been weighing heavily on her heart and mind since she left home.

She walks toward the barmaid.

‘Do you have a phone I can use please?’

‘Yes, lassie, through that door.’

Marla places Babulous on a seat next to the blazing fire, retrieving a small plastic container of coins from her bag.

‘I will return in a moment. Do not wander, do you hear me?’

‘Yes, Marla dearest.’

She ambles to the corner of the bar, picks up the receiver, and dials the number.

Ring, ring.

‘Two, four, six, seven.’

‘Mam.’

‘Marla, oh my god, I have been so worried, are you with your great aunt?’

‘No Mam, I am at Gretna green. I am safe Mam, so much has happened since I left you. I have so much to say to you, Mam, but I just needed you to know that I am safe. Everything is fine, Mam.’

‘I have been so worried, Marla.’

‘Do not worry Mam, everything is alright.’

‘Have you changed your knickers daily?’

‘I am so glad I am not on speakerphone Mam, yes I have, stop worrying.’

‘Oh, that’s good dear, you can never be too careful, I miss you, Marla.’

‘I miss you too Mam, have you heard from Nan?’

‘Yes, she rang this morning. Cornelius Darkus is nearing escape, Marla. The glass on the miopsa mirror is showing slight cracks.’

‘Who is it, Mam?’

‘It’s Marla, she is in Gretna Green, Bella, she is safe.’

‘Can I speak with her, Mam?’ asks a familiar voice in the background.

‘Hi, Bell, how are you, how is my record player ha.’

‘It’s fantastic. I was upstairs listening to music when I heard the telephone ring. Are you coming home, Marla? I miss you; we want you back here at home, safe?’

‘Even Stella?’ she requests.

‘Even Stella.’

‘Where is grumpy arse Bell?’

‘She’s out with friends now, but if she were here, she’d tell you the same. I love you, Marla.’

‘I will hand you back to our Mam, please come home soon. I love you Marl.’

‘Okay Bell, love you too, thank you.’

‘Marla?’

‘Hi Mam, please don’t fret, I have met a friend along the way, he is helping me get to auntie’s home.’

‘A boy Marla, is he tall, dark, and handsome?’

Marla glances at Babulous, scratching his bum cheek. ‘Not exactly, Mam, it’s difficult to explain now. I will ring you again soon. I love you, Mam, I miss you so much.’

‘I love you too, Marla. Remember to change your pants, daily.’

‘Yes, Mother!’

Marla replaces the receiver. She exhales and rests her cheek against the panelled wall. Hearing her Mum and Bella reassuring and loving saddens her as they are so far away.

She realises how much she needs the three of them and longs to be back in their embrace.

She paces back into the bar, sadness etched across her eyes.

‘Everything good?’ the barmaid enquires with an expression of warmth in her eyes.

‘Yes, I was just letting my Mam know I was safe.’

‘You two will be the talk of the village for many years to come. Come here, let me look at that arm of yours?’

The barmaid applies antiseptic and gauze to Marla’s arm.

‘There, you are patched up. That should help. You both must be exhausted. Let me show you your room.’

Marla lifts Babulous and follows the lady upstairs into a chamber. The room is cosy and welcoming. Two oak beds dressed in luscious velvet bedding. A candle glows in the window as the silver moonlight washes the wooden floor. Marla lays an exhausted furry creature onto the bed and draws the blankets over him. She kisses his cheek and beams before shifting back to the barmaid.

‘We deeply appreciate your help this evening. Thank you.’

‘You are extremely welcome, lassie. I will have breakfast cooked for both of you in the morning.’

‘Sweet dreams, both of you’ she whispers, closing the door gently.

Marla lies on the adjacent bed. She thinks of home and where she finds herself right now, in Scotland with an elveer. She evokes the moment on the mountainside when she screeched at the beast, causing a metamorphosis inside her.

What was the light pulsating through her, why is everybody saying she has immense power?

The stand-off with the beast, seen as brave by many. Yet, in her mind, she is a nobody. A typical Mancunian girl, strong and yet unseen. A love for music, laughter, and one or perhaps six half pints of lager on a Saturday evening with her friends. Friends she may never see again. Her heart aches at the prospect of spending the rest of her life looking over her shoulder. Like a moth to a flame, she is drawn to this journey.

If she could choose, she would opt for a bacon sandwich and a cuppa. This journey is no longer a choice. It is about preserving one thing every human will fight to the death to preserve.

Life.

‘Night night Babulous, hope the bed bugs don’t bite.’