Clovenhoof 05 Beelzebelle Read online

  “Listen, I can’t come in today, Tina. There’s… there’s been a bereavement. Yes, a death in the family. Yes, thank you. I should be in tomorrow, yes.”

  She ended the call and blew her nose with her free hand. She held a shoe box under her arm, but that didn’t feel right. She held it out in front of her, cradling the box in both of her hands, as she entered the church.

  Michael, alone in the church, sat in prayer halfway down the aisle.

  “Where’s the font?” Nerys called.

  Michael blinked and looked round.

  “Sorry?” he said.

  “Holy water. Don’t you need that?”

  “Need it for what?”

  She held out the shoe box towards him.

  “To bring him back. What else have you got here? Any saintly relics?”

  “I don’t understand…”

  “We need everything this church has got. It’s an emergency!”

  Michael was on his feet. Nerys held out the box. Michael peered inside.

  “Oh,” he said. “Oh, Twinkle.”

  “Bastard van driver didn’t even see him.”

  “Oh dear. I’m sorry, Nerys.”

  He looked at her.

  “I can’t,” he said. “I’m really sorry.”

  “You’re sorry? Really sorry?” She held him in a challenging stare. “If you were sorry, you’d fix him.”

  “He’s dead, Nerys. I can’t change that.” Michael fixed her with sorrowful eyes and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

  “Rubbish!” spat Nerys, pushing his arm away. “You’re still an archangel. You said so yourself. You might not have special powers, but you’ve got... connections, you know you have. Help me fix Twinkle. He’s up in Heaven and he’s missing me.”

  “I’m sorry to say that animals don’t go to Heaven, Nerys, they …”

  “Don’t you dare say that!” hissed Nerys. “I’ve been there. I’ve seen them myself.”

  Michael smiled gently, and Nerys could see that his genuine concern, an unguarded moment of compassion, was now slipping behind one of his masks.

  “Ah, dear me, Nerys, this is a complex subject,” he said. “Suffice it to say that there is, of course, an idea of animals in Heaven, so that those amongst the blessed dead who relish the natural world can surround themselves with familiar sights.”

  “Bullshit!” spat Nerys, conscious of where she was, but not caring, as hot tears ran down her cheeks. “You’re making this stuff up. It’s so stupid! I just want you to help me!”

  “I will help you as a friend, Nerys. I want to help you get through this difficult time, but I can’t help you bring back the dead.”

  “I don’t want to get through! I want it sorted!”

  Nerys swivelled and stormed out of the church, anger suffusing her entire being. At that moment, she wasn’t sure which was worse, the ignorant idiot who had killed her beloved dog, or the self-righteous idiot who was withholding the only possible avenue of practical help.

  “If God can’t do something good for us when we need it most, then what bloody good is He?” she shouted. “No wonder Jeremy thinks He’s an almighty tosser!”

  A fat-bellied figure at the back of the church pushed a broom and unconvincingly pretended he hadn’t noticed there was a mad woman in the church.

  “Darren!” called Nerys.

  Darren Pottersmore, the church’s zealous helper, and wearer of his mother’s experiments in creative knitwear, looked up.

  “Oh. Nerys, isn’t it? Didn’t see you there,” he lied.

  Today’s sweater was in the style of a stained glass window, although the Heavenly cherubs were distorted around Darren’s considerable girth. Nerys approached, thinking Michael wasn’t the only avenue for practical help.

  “You used to go by the name of Pitspawn,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Pitspawn.”

  Darren looked at her, and his eye twitched slightly.

  “I think I knew someone called that, a long time ago.”

  “No, it was you. Back in the days when you were a practising Satanist. You had all sorts of books, as I recall.”

  The incident in question, a couple of years back, had involved summoning rituals, demonic powers channelled through the dubious conduit of crystal animals and, critically, Nerys being dead for far longer than was considered healthy. Either the powers of Heaven or simple Post-Traumatic Stress had wiped the incident from Darren’s mind (and put the fear of God into the boy).

  “You knew rituals,” she said. “Summoning the devil, raising the dead, that sort of thing.”

  Darren whimpered slightly and shook his head.

  “No. Not since Stephen and I were kids… I’ve been good… I’ve been good.”

  “Snap out of it, church boy,” said Nerys. “I get that you don’t go in for that stuff anymore, but I really need to know how to raise the dead. It’s an emergency.”

  “We shouldn’t meddle with dark forces.”

  “Do you want me to tell your mother that, on the cub camp, you let the boys use one of your jumpers as an emergency bivouac and then told your mum it had been stolen by badgers?”

  “You wouldn’t!”

  “Right now, I’m one of those dark forces you shouldn’t meddle with,” said Nerys.

  Darren groaned.

  “Look, if I get you the book and stuff, will you leave me alone?”

  “To live a blameless and holy life? You betcha,” said Nerys.

  Clovenhoof had a monkey.

  Clovenhoof had a capuchin monkey.

  Jeremy Clovenhoof had a capuchin monkey.

  He owned – paws, tail, fur, and teeth – a real-life capuchin monkey.

  The monkey had small questing fingers, wide child-like eyes, and was generally brown but for a cowl of blonde hair over his head and shoulders. The monkey was called Gorky.

  Clovenhoof had a monkey and, if he had known how instantly happy it was going to make him, he would have got one years ago.

  Like the battery-powered spaghetti fork, the Lambrini hat, the electric hoof-buffer, and personalised toilet paper (printed with the faces of whoever you wanted), the monkey was one of those items Clovenhoof didn’t realise he needed until he got it and then found it almost instantly indispensable.

  Clovenhoof arrived back at the house with his new capuchin monkey riding on the back of the baby buggy. He wheeled into the hall and considered the prospect of hauling everything up the stairs again.

  “What can you do then, Gorky? You gonna help me get this stuff up there or what?”

  Gorky sprang off the buggy and snatched Beelzebelle out of the buggy. Despite the baby girl being much heavier than him, Gorky carried her easily up the stairs and stood at the top, looking expectantly at Clovenhoof. Beelzebelle burbled and poked Gorky’s ear.

  “Oh, fine. Leave the heavy lifting to me,” said Clovenhoof. He carried the buggy up. It was a bit easier with no baby in it, but, on reflection, he could have got Gorky to make another trip with the Lambrini stash.

  “Good work, Gorky. I think you’ll make a commendable addition to our little family,” he said as he opened the door to his flat with a flourish. “Welcome to my domain.”

  Gorky scampered across the threshold and carried out an inspection of the rooms that Clovenhoof called home. The kitchen seemed to hold great interest, and Clovenhoof followed him in there after a few minutes to see what he was doing. The monkey was evaluating the contents of the fridge and seemed to feel that there was something lacking. He was making this evident by the way that he was transferring the contents directly to the bin.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” said Clovenhoof. “Findus Crispy Pancakes are an unparalleled delicacy!”

  Gorky ignored this and continued through the contents of the fridge, until he eventually came across a mouldy orange, squashed against the back wall. He peeled it away, cradling it carefully in his hands. He held it up for Clovenhoof to see, a look of deep sorrow on his face.
/>
  “All right, I get it,” said Clovenhoof. “You like oranges, and you prefer them a little bit fresher than that. Fine, if I promise to get some oranges, can we move on?”

  Gorky stepped away from the fridge, apparently satisfied with this.

  “I think we need to set out a few ground rules,” said Clovenhoof, beckoning Gorky back into the living room. “Let’s talk.”

  He sat Beelzebelle on the settee and indicated that Gorky should sit next to her.

  “Right, listen up, the two of you. You might want to take notes. We each have our roles to play in this family. My role is to impart my considerable wisdom. I’ve been around for quite some time, so there really aren’t many things I’m not an expert on. Pay close attention at all times, especially you, Beelzebelle. After all, you’re my daughter now, my protégé, and you’ve got a lot to learn if you’re going to grow up in my image. Gorky, your role is a supporting one. I will expect you to do all of those things that I don’t fancy doing myself. You’ll get as many oranges as you like if you play your cards right.”

  Beelzebelle patted Gorky’s face with interest. Gorky carefully took her hand, making her giggle.

  “I hope you’re paying attention, young lady, because the first lesson is about to begin.”

  Clovenhoof puffed out his chest and looked upwards, seeking inspiration. His gaze travelled over a large cobweb.

  “Housework. Yes, right. When you’ve got important stuff to be doing, which you definitely will when you’re grown up and as skilled as I am, you won’t want to be wasting your time on menial tasks. There is always a way to get someone else to do it. Always. If you can’t convince somebody to tidy the place up for you because you deserve it, then plan ‘b’ – a small fire every once in a while – takes care of things.” He thought for a moment. “A big fire will work, too.”

  Gorky looked up to where Clovenhoof was staring and, in the blink of an eye, scrambled up the curtains, leaned across, and swiped the cobweb from the ceiling. He then looked at his hand and nibbled delicately at the cobwebby mess.

  “See what I mean?” said Clovenhoof proudly. “Circle of life, Beelzebelle, and we’re at the, er, top, you and me.”

  He frowned slightly. Beelzebelle’s attention seemed to be focussed on Gorky, as he hung from the picture rail, eating more cobwebs. He was about to point out the ground rule about paying attention to him at all times when he became aware of a subtle popping in his ears. He tasted the air with his tongue and detected the prickling sensation that indicated some sort of interference in the dullness of earthly normality.

  “Interesting.”

  He followed his nose out of his flat’s front door and up the stairs to the top floor, and flat 3. He knocked on the door and pushed his way inside.

  “Nerys? What are you doing?” he called.

  “A little privacy, if you don’t mind!” yelled Nerys, standing in the middle of the floor, all the furniture pushed back. “I was just starting to get the hang of this chanting thing.”

  “Is that ‘Satanism for Dummies’?” asked Clovenhoof, looking at the book that she held, “and I recognise that crystal dolphin. Darren’s mom gets really angry when he takes her ornaments, you know.”

  “She’ll get them all back,” said Nerys hotly. “Darren said the crystal helps to focus the force of the pentagram or something. Now go away and let me get on with the ritual.”

  “What’s in the box?” Clovenhoof stepped forward. As he entered the pentagram, there was an implosive glump sound, and the magic seeped out of the room.

  He peered at the lifeless and quite flat form on the floor.

  “Someone’s let the air out of your dog.”

  The punch Nerys threw connected powerfully with Clovenhoof’s chin and made his teeth snap.

  “Don’t you dare make a joke out of this,” she wept.

  Clovenhoof rubbed his jaw.

  “Your dog’s dead. I get it,” he said and then, surprising himself, added, “Sorry.”

  Nerys glared at him.

  “You’ve broken the spell.”

  “Hasn’t hanging around with me taught you anything about messing with Satanic forces?”

  “Christ, you sound like Michael. I have to try. Heaven’s no help, maybe Hell can sort this out.”

  “Not sure I’d do that if I were you,” said Clovenhoof, as he turned to leave. “You have no idea what it might cost you.”

  Nerys stamped a foot in frustration, fists balled at her sides.

  “What? I thought you’d be all for it! No wonder you got sacked as Lord of Hell. You’re a rotten salesman!”

  Jeremy paused at the doorway.

  “You know what?” he said thoughtfully. “I’ve never actually seen someone stamp their feet in anger before. I thought it was just something people did on TV.”

  “And you’re a lousy friend too!” she shouted, as he closed the door behind him.

  As he descended the stairs, Clovenhoof heard something that sounded like a crystal animal hitting a wall.

  Ben was arranging a jolly taxidermy mouse choir on a shelf between piles of self-help books. Each tiny mouse corpse held a tinier hymn book and had its mouth open in mid-song. He thought it might cheer up people who were looking for books about depression. The door to the shop opened.

  “Nerys.”

  She gave him a weak smile.

  “I heard what happened to Twinkle,” he said. “You’ll be needing a cup of tea.”

  Nerys sat down while Ben tried to find a cleanish mug in the kitchenette behind the counter.

  “The maniac that ran him over only stopped because he thought he’d damaged his stupid van!” growled Nerys.

  “Would you know him if you saw him again?” asked Ben, rubbing a cup with the hem of his t-shirt.

  “Oh yes. Him and his stupid van. If I saw that van again, I’d smash the windscreen into tiny pieces.”

  “Hmmm, yes,” said Ben, setting the tea down. He’d realised that this required breaking out a packet of rich tea biscuits. He put them down next to Nerys’s mug. “Whatever makes you feel better. Although, breaking safety glass probably won’t be as satisfying as you’re imagining.”

  “What?”

  “It will just crumble rather than smash and, besides, he’ll get a new one in no time. You might want to dent some of the body panels, preferably a wing. It will be much more expensive to fix those.”

  Nerys gave him a smile, and reached across to squeeze his hand.

  “Thank you, Ben,” she said. “It’s great to get some practical advice. Michael and Jeremy have been useless.”

  “You asked them how to smash up a van?” said Ben, incredulous.

  “No, no. Just about Twinkle. About what to do with him.”

  “What are you going to do with him?” asked Ben, eyeing her sideways. “Because I might be able to help.”

  Nerys took a rich tea biscuit, but simply looked at it.

  “If you’re thinking of turning him into another hair accessory for Michael …”

  “No, nothing like that. I can make sure he looks just as you always remember him though.”

  “I don’t know. Stuffing animals. It’s a bit… tacky.”

  Ben spread some photos across the counter.

  “I’ve collected a load of pictures together to use as a reference.”

  He glanced at Nerys. Her eyes misted over as she sifted through the pictures.

  “Who knew there were so many pictures with Twinkle in them?” she mused. “It’s a bit of a shame that Jeremy’s in so many of them being, well, Jeremy.” She put the biscuit down, uneaten. “Lovely to see these though.”

  Nerys walked over to look at the mouse choir and gingerly touched its head. She narrowed her eyes and looked more closely. She pulled on its ear and it came away. She held it in her hand, small, delicate, and pink, with a curious bright stripe along the hidden edge.

  “Ben, these mouse ears are made from false fingernails! This one’s even got nail varnish on it! It
’s almost as if you got it out of my bin or something.”

  Ben looked uncomfortable.

  “Waste not, want not,” he mumbled. “I’ve got much better since I did that one, Nerys.”

  “These aren’t… appalling,” she said.

  “I promise I’ll do a good job with Twinkle. You’ll be able to see him every day, and he’ll look just like you always remember him. Just think about it, yeah?”

  Clovenhoof tapped the counter in the Helping Hand Job Agency. Ordinarily, he’d call out for Nerys, but she was summoning the dead rather than coming into work today.

  “Hello! I can’t see any astronaut vacancies in the window,” he called.

  Her lips were set into an exaggerated pout, and glistened with such an extraordinary amount of lipstick that Clovenhoof was reminded of a freshly painted post box. Clovenhoof read her name badge.

  “Tina.”

  “That’s right, sir,” she said and ran a talon-like fingernail across the slogan under her name. “Happy to help. We’ve met before, haven’t we?”

  “I was in the market for a job a while back. You helped.”

  She smiled.

  “And how did that position work out for you?”

  Clovenhoof thought. He remembered the screams, the tears, the vast quantities of fake blood. It was one hell of a school assembly.

  “Rather well,” he said.

  Tina indicated a low table with some comfy chairs in a corner by the window. “Perhaps we can have a chat and work out what your next step on the career ladder might be.”

  She tottered over in her high heels to one of the chairs. She crossed her legs after sitting down, and gave a loving glance down at her shiny, metallic shoe, dangling her foot so that it bobbed between them.

  “Nice shoes,” said Clovenhoof, feeling that nothing would be done until he had admired them.

  “Thank you,” said Tina. “Not everyone can walk in five inch heels, but as a professional working woman, I know that I need to look my very best.”

  Clovenhoof was hit with a strong sense of déjà vu. That sounded like something Nerys would say. He imagined that Tina and Nerys must be the very best of friends. He was sure she had mentioned a Tina recently…