Fisher And The Bears Page 6

  “She is glad you did not send her on.” Al said as I helped him into his jacket. “She likes it here. She missed it so much while she was in the camera. And she loves the bears.”

  For a second my heart stopped beating.

  “The ghost from the camera?” I asked.

  He nodded. “She is not stalking you. But, she stays near. You helped her and she is a kind spirit. She has hung close by, because... Well... I don't think she has anywhere else to go.”

  “We have a room at the house.” I said. “Right next to mine.” I was going to say more but I glanced out of the window. A shopping trolley full of bears was bouncing out of control down the street at great speed. “I got to...”

  “Go.” Al nodded. “I have to be ready for the funeral.”

  As I ran for the door I was sure I felt the scent of summer flowers brushing against me, and heard a soft giggle somewhere in the darkness.

  Crashes To Crashes

  “So, have you got yourselves a new ghost since I was here last?” Dad asked, as he moved his counters on the board. Many of the bears looked worried as the game took a dark new development. The United States Of Dad had just claimed Bulgaria and now the Bear Federation was going to have to rethink their plan of attack. The bears stepped away from the lounge table where the game was being played and huddled into a scrum as they whispered to each other. They gave us a few looks as they continued in hushed tones.

  “Yes.” Mrs Sussex said from behind her newspaper. “A Grey Lady apparently. She has been lurking around in the corner of our eyes and walking up and down the corridors at night. The bears like her, and she puts things in the bin and dirty socks in the laundry, so I don't exactly mind her as such.”

  “I thought I felt something.” Dad said settling back into his chair. The rain was tapping on the windows as it scoured the streets outside clean. It was a Sunday afternoon and the weather was keeping us indoors so the Bears had raided the cupboard full of board games.

  “We call her Doreen.” Tiger offered. She was not interested in the board game, she was two thirds of the way through a dog eared paperback.

  “Doreen Grey?” Dad smiled. “Has a ring. So how exactly did this come to be?”

  “Just something we picked up on a case.” I explained, catching one of the plastic pieces that had been tossed into the air before it could land in an open eye. “She seems harmless.”

  “Ever seen her?” Dad asked me. His senses tickled by the idea.

  “No. But I can feel and smell her when she is near. Perfume. You know?” I asked.

  “I know.” He smiled. “Sounds like you like her.”

  “Well, most the ghosts I met recently wanted me reduced to chum, so Doreen, as long as she is happy with the name, is a nice change. She is more than welcome to take all the time she needs before she moves on.” I explained. “You guys making a move or not?”

  The whispers from the huddled ceased and the bears hid the black board on which they had formulated their new plan for conquest.

  “We are playing the Political Manipulation Card to fund a coup in an enemy state of our choosing.” Ginger said on behalf of the bears. “And we choose Canada.” He started to shake the dice in his paws as the other bears moved their tokens around the board. “Time to bring it!” Ginger snarled and rolled the dice. They slipped out of his paws and went bouncing out into the corridor. A few seconds later they came rolling back on their own, with just the smell of roses and a movement in the air. “Thank you!” Ginger yelped as it landed on a double six. “Boo-ya!” He shuffled a lot of pieces around the board.

  I collected the cups, took them to the kitchen and rinsed them out, ready to be washed up. The air moved around me.

  “You okay?” I asked the empty room. “Something you want?”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as something moved against them.

  “Okay. I will take it that was meant to be friendly.” I said. One of the old room service bells tingled. “Is that a yes?” It rang again. “One for yes, two for no.” It rang once. “Do you mind the name Doreen?” It rang once.

  “Victory!” Screamed the Bears in the lounge. They had just unleashed their patent blend of careful strategy, blind luck and ruthless use of their cards. Playing the right card, at the right time was often like a spark in the fireworks factory. With the game over Ted came looking for a snack.

  “Is there anybody there?” Theodore Edison Bear said as he waddled in and opened the fridge. The bell rang twice. “Are you sure?” Ted asked. It rang once. “You know I could have sworn I sensed somebody.” He said thoughtfully and walked away with a glass of milk and a sandwich that threatened to injure somebody if it toppled off the plate. I smiled and watched him go. I could no longer feel the presence around me. I glanced back into the study. The bears were occupied, distracted. I grabbed my coat and flicked up the hood of my sweatshirt as I stepped out into the rain.

  I had made it down the drive and onto the street before I heard the pad of footsteps behind me.

  “What ya doing?” Tiger asked from under a colourful frog themed umbrella. Her voice almost made the words into a song.

  “I am on my way to see somebody. It's a kind of personal matter.” I said.

  “Okay.” She nodded. “Then can we do lunch at the Greasy Spoon?”

  “It is kind of something I need to do alone.” I said. “I will see you for lunch after?”

  I was all too aware of the padding footsteps behind me.

  “You know how I say no bears and there always bears. This time I don't want bears.” I said.

  “You never want bears.” Tiger grinned. “But I think this time you need a bear. Well, you need somebody. Anybody. And the only person available is a bear. Besides if you make a fuss about wanting no bears all of us will just curious.” She twirled her umbrella. “And you wont want that.”

  So I walked into town with Tiger hopping puddles beside me. She was humming to herself. She was there right the way to the park where Clarumcoma was stood in the shelter of the band stand, wrapped in several layers against the cold. He looked from me to Tiger, back to me.

  “It was only a matter of time until one of them found out.” Clarum said. “Hello young lady. Now, let me see. There have been two of these packages sent. Both containing dangerous artefacts. They were both sent from false addresses I am afraid. I can not yet track the sender, he arranges a pick up from an office building with a public reception place, just pretending to work for one of the offices. Then he walks out and is never seen again. He is, apparently, average size, average build, a reasonably young man, with short hair that may be black, or brown, and eyes that may be blue or green. In short there are about a billion people in the world he could be. The interesting thing is the name he gives and the delivery service he uses. Knight Delivery Order.”

  “KDO.” I said. “Most people use them.”

  “Collecting from Mister Azrael.” Clarum said. “Azrael. Named for the same Angel of Death as a certain order of knights. An order you are yourself descended from.”

  “So they are Azrael, and they target people who are tied to magic? Us. Dead of Night. Should Mystic Moggy who tells fortunes and contacts spirits on the sea front be worried?” I shuddered. “It is nothing personal?”

  “There is another connection.” Clarum said. “Attacks against a small community, like that of exorcists, could be seen as an attack of those connected to a single member.”

  “Am I the target?” I asked.

  Clarum shrugged. “I do not know. I need more information.”

  “Is this where I am asked not to tell anybody?” Tiger said, hanging from the ironwork on the top of the bandstand, like a gymnast from a trapeze.

  “Not at all dear lady.” Clarum smiled with glitter in his eyes. “I of course have your word of honour. But if you tested that honour I would also suggest that bears as young as you are not meant to gamble and it would be considered very naughty if a bear as young as yourself had-”


  “I wont talk.” Tiger said, a little too quickly.

  “I know.” Clarum patted her head as he walked away. “I will be in touch Fish.”

  *

  I decided there was a fourth tier to my curse. That the ex girlfriend who does not want anything to do with me can not seem to escape from me. I took Tiger for a milkshake at the diner, and because the storm was clearing up and because I had turned my back for five minutes there were other bears joining us. Wendy, Billie and Ember huddled up on the other side of the booth and whispered in the universal way of girl talk. We had just ordered my coffee and their milkshakes when somebody got up to leave from another booth.

  Jenny was staring at me. The guy whose arm was around her waist looked at the floor pretty quickly.

  “Hi.” She said quietly.

  “Hey.” Damon, her best friend from work said.

  “Hi.” I said. “Sorry. You both okay?”

  “Yeah.” Jenny nodded. “Look. I know this seems fast, and I really don't want you to think that I-”

  “Jenny,” I said holding up my hands to slow her, “you aren't my girlfriend any more. You really should be happy. I'm glad you moved on.” I was going to tell her I didn't care who she saw, who she fell for, who she let into her heart. But that wasn't true. Of course I cared. I cared if somebody I loved was happy. I cared more about her being happy than I cared if it was with me. “Damon from her work right?”

  “Yeah. We met once.” He said. He was scrawny with painfully fashionable hair and clothes that looked a lot cooler in the catalogue than they did on him, and cooler on him than they would look on me.

  “I know. You and Jenny always got on. It was nice.” I smiled. The smile froze. Jenny was looking past me to the window at the back of the booth. The girls were all waving at her, sucking happily on the straws of their milkshakes.

  “Is that one of your bears?” Damon asked. “In that tree? Kind of upside down and tied up in a kite?”

  “That is one of my bears.” I agreed with out looking out of the window. “Please. Excuse me.” I left some money on the table for the drinks and my coffee half finished. As I ran out the diner to rescue the bear I heard the bears bombarding Jenny with gossip and questions. I heard Jenny ask a question back.

  “Is he okay? After the break up?” Jenny had concern in her voice. Genuine.

  I was out of the door before I could hear any answers, but as I untangled Mac from the kite that had tied him to a low branch like a tyre swing I glanced back. Through the window I could see the bears talking in an animated fashion, their hands flailing around to illustrate every point like they were swatting flies. Damon and Jenny were laughing and smiling and looking happy at what ever story the bears were telling.

  “What happened to you?” I asked Mac.

  “I was Landoed by the weather!” Mac spluttered. “It will rue the day!”

  “Yeah. You are going to take your revenge. One the weather?” I asked.

  “From hells cold heart I shout at thee!” Mac yelled to the sky. They sky answered with a roll of thunder.

  “Oh come on.” I pleaded to the gods. “Just one quiet day.”

  Another roll of thunder answered me. I frowned. Something was in the air. Something felt wrong. It tingled at the back of my head. Like a sudden chill, a sudden quiet despair. Then I saw it, rolling down the road, faster than walking speed but slow enough to cause fury and rage from those trapped behind it was a car. It was a 1982 Reliant Kitten Estate (Luxury). I had only ever seen those before at the Classic Car Festival that dominated the sea front on the May bank holiday. This was not a car that had been carefully restored to show room beauty. It was an unappealing tan colour, with patches of canary yellow and drab grey primer over the dents, all peeling with rust and caked in grime. The windscreen was fogged by dirt and what looked like tea stains. The driver was leaning back so far in his seat he looked like he had fallen asleep. He was old, near hairless and entirely made from wrinkles and scowls. The little engine whined out of key and the exhaust belched from everywhere but the exhaust pipe. To say that there was a life piled up in the car would be to give the wrong impression. It was perhaps everything this old man had left in the world, but the stacks of newspapers, stuffed toys leaking fluff, ragged clothes, dented mess tins and camping stoves, wire coat hangers and boots well past wearing, were not the components of a life.

  As it rolled past I felt it was not just the slow moving traffic that was causing frustration. There was a sense of furious anger that washed over me. For a few moments I felt as though I could stamp my foot and shake the world. I could have sworn that if I had chose to run out into the road everybody else would have to swerve to avoid me. Where ever it was I needed to be was too important for me to care about anybody else. Any risk. It over rode everything else, including my common sense. It might explain why the stream of cars swung out to overtake the Kitten, blaring their horns at anybody who happened to be unfortunate enough to be coming the other way. The peace of the evening was shattered by drivers swearing at each other.

  At the end of the road the Kitten kept moving at the same speed. The driver did not slow for the traffic lights, or the junctions. He was determined to drive at twenty miles an hour, no matter what. No stopping. No slowing. No speeding up when he hit the main road. Cars swerved into skids as he turned onto the road.

  Mac had wriggled free of the kite and dropped down onto the avenue pavement, giving the tree a friendly pat.

  “The crossing.” I said, realising something. “What will he do at the crossing?”

  “Come on then!” Mac yelled as he ran ahead of me. The car would have to follow the roads around the town centre. We could run through the alleys to the market place, then come out at the bus stop, blowing the bosun whistle as we ran. As kids most of my class at school had mastered the art of staying on the seafront until you saw the bus on William street, knowing it would give you just enough time to rush for the stop on the main road. Myself and Mac made to the bus stop in time to see the Kitten, still at uniform speed, swerving out to avoid the cars waiting at the pelican crossing. The red light and pedestrians meant nothing to him. I glanced at the crossing. Jenny and Damon were on their way over to far side where Mabel was waiting with her Granny. I screamed a warning and ran forwards, grabbing Jenny and yanking her to a halt. A bunch of bears who had responded to the whistle and piled on Damon to hold him back. The Kitten rolled past at twenty miles an hour, oblivious to the very terrible mischief that it had almost caused Jenny and her new man.

  The wave of anger and frustration broke over us once more. Jenny did not seem to notice I had saved her. She just noticed somebody had grabbed her. She swung around to face me already raising her fist into a punch. I don't know if she actually hit me or not. The world skipped a few frames. The next thing I was aware of was being on the floor, looking up at a number of concerned bears and Jenny nursing a fist covered in blood. Blood that seemed to be from my nose. It took her a few seconds for her mind to clear. To understand what had just happened.

  “What the hell did he think he was bloody doing?” Damon screamed at the road. “He almost killed us. Was he blind? Brain-dead?”

  “Or just dead?” Ginger said. I hadn't seen him there. He and Tiger helped me up. “Did you feel it? That coldness? That feel of everything that is wrong in the world filling your head and leaking from your ears? You only get that in one part of the Other World, and the living aren't welcome there.”

  I did not waste much time dusting myself down. I stared down the street. A Police car was trying to flag down the Kitten. It ignored them and kept going, pushing aside a car that had been on the roundabout expecting others to give way. I took a few dumbfounded steps to try and give chase, before I realised I could not follow the car on foot.

  “Anybody know how to exorcise something that is moving?” I asked.

  Ginger waved a paw. “Ooh! Ooh!”

  “No fire.” I said.

  “Aw.” Ginger put his paw back
in his pocket.

  *

  The gaming table was put to good use. A map of the local area was spread out and the bears were gathered around and Ted pushed a toy car around. He pretended not to be making engine noises under his breath.

  “According to the Police the Kitten has been driving around the same route in a constant loop.” Dad explained. “Up out of town, around a number of country roads, then back down the duel carriageway to the town, where he continues the loop. Even if he doesn't hit anything he is causing a lot of accidents in his wake. The Police try to have a rolling roadblock, but what ever this thing is, it is getting in their head and making it hard for them to keep in formation.”

  “So. Unless we do a big magic circle containing the entire route, and exorcising every single spirit in the entire town, which would be a lot of collateral damage.” I said. There was a sound from the blackboard like nails running down it. “We have no way of doing a traditional exorcism. And I am not exorcising you all.” I looked around the bears. “Or you Doreen. Not just to be rid of this thing. So we need another plan.”

  The scent of roses brushed against me. Something touched my sore nose. Gently. It went as I winced. I gritted my teeth.

  “We need a new plan before a lot of people get hurt.” I said.

  “An unconventional exorcism?” Mrs Sussex looked unimpressed. “So how about one of those things with the nails the Police make you run over?”

  “They have used those.” Dad said. “And he kept going. He ploughed through cars, breeze blocks, anything they put in the way.”

  “It's a shame,” Tiger said, “that we couldn't put the magic circle on the car, rather than trying to make the car drive into one.”

  “No.” I said.

  “Now hang on...” Dad rubbed his chin. “In theory...”

  “No.” I said.

  “I have an idea.” Said Ginger brightly.