Have Demon, Will Travel

by John Brosnan

Genres: Humor & Satire; Science Fiction; Space Opera

Synopsis

There's a naked succubus in his bathroom, a fairy tale princess in his kitchen and a foul-mouthed demon in his fridge; Travis Thomson thought that, having returned from Samella (don't ask), his troubles were all over - but discovers that most of them have accompanied him home from that fantasy land to his flat (except the horse, which has turned up in his garden). A whole mess of mishaps just waiting to happen... But other problems have also arrived from Samella: the vampiric Prince Valerie and his sorcerer sidekick Damion have popped up in London's East End, eager for vengeance. Quickly acquiring a band of loyal followers who vaguely resemble the cast of a cockney soap opera, Prince Val and Damion discover the joys of living in a penthouse and robbing banks. Will they catch up with Travis and his companions before the Old Bill catch up with them?

Release date: December 21, 2012

Publisher: Gateway

Print pages: 256

Sample

‘You think I’m insane, don’t you?’ Travis asked the police psychiatrist.

The psychiatrist, a benign-looking, balding man in his early forties, gave him a sad, disapproving little smile. ‘I’m not comfortable with the word “insane”, Travis. I would prefer to describe you as being in a very disturbed state.’

‘Of course I’m feeling very disturbed,’ said Travis heatedly, ‘I’ve been bloody arrested!’

‘Yes, but you must admit that your behaviour left the officers who’d been called to the scene no other option,’ the psychiatrist quietly pointed out.

‘I suppose so,’ muttered Travis, ‘And I’m sorry about what happened to that policewoman. But as I keep trying to tell everyone, it wasn’t my fault. It was all down to those damn …’ He stopped.

‘Fairies?’ said the psychiatrist. The police constable standing at the door of the interview room, sniggered.

‘No, demons!’ snapped Travis, ‘I keep telling you that!’

‘Ah, yes, demons. Sorry. And there are two of them?’

‘Yes. Jack and Sharon. Except that Jack hasn’t always been a demon. He used to be a Hollywood film producer. A tacky one. But Sharon’s the real thing. She’s a succubus.’

‘Jack the demon who used to be a film producer,’ said the psychiatrist slowly. ‘And Sharon the succubus. Yessss. And, er, these two demons have been causing you problems, right?’

‘Ever since we got back from Samella …’

‘Ah yes …’ The pyschiatrist glanced at his notepad then tapped his front teeth with his biro. ‘Samella. This world you went to …’

‘The world I was sent to!’ corrected Travis. ‘By Prenderghast!’

‘And by Prenderghast you mean Gideon Leonard Prenderghast, the well-known computer games manufacturer. That Gideon Leonard Prenderghast?’

Travis sighed. He lit a menthol cigarette. He’d given up smoking years ago but recent events had driven him to resume the habit. ‘He’s not what he seems to be. He’s not human! He’s a … a deity of some kind. And not a nice one. He has incredible powers.’

‘Travis, I’ve had a little chat with your editor at Watchdog magazine. He told me about your obsession with Mr Prenderghast. How you’d been working on your story – your planned exposé – for several weeks. Clearly you’ve become over-stressed by the pressure and now you’re having these delusions as a result.’

Travis blew smoke at him, enjoying the disapproving wince on the pyschiatrist’s face. ‘I’m not having delusions. Look, doctor, do you want to hear my version of what happened or not?’

‘Sorry. Please continue. And please call me Dave.’

Good grief, thought Travis. ‘Okay, Dave, it was like this. When I confronted Prenderghast with what I’d found out about him he zapped me somehow and when I woke up I was on Samella, and in the company of Jack and Whiplash.’

‘Whiplash?’

‘He’s the horse.’

‘Oh, right,’ said Dave, and scribbled some more in his notebook.

‘Jack told me the score. I was going to be stuck on Samella until I found the Key, except that he didn’t know what the Key was.’

‘And this world, Samella, it was like Earth?’

‘In some ways. I mean, there were people there and they spoke English. Or at least they did in the area where I ended up. But it was in a medieval era and there were things like dragons, fairies, elves, sorcerers and all that stuff.’

‘And demons.’

‘And demons,’ agreed Travis.

‘Tell me, Travis, were you a big fan of The Lord of the Rings when you were at school?’ asked Dave.

‘God, no! I never even got halfway through the first book.’

‘But you read a lot of fantasy these days, right?’

Travis shook his head. ‘No, I don’t. I know the place sounds like a bad game of Dungeons and Dragons but that was nothing to do with me. That’s the way it was! At first I thought it wasn’t real. I was convinced that Prenderghast had hooked me up to some kind of incredibly sophisticated virtual reality device to teach me a lesson for meddling in his affairs. But eventually I had to admit to myself that Samella really did exist.’

‘Of course,’ said Dave, soothingly. ‘And as you are now back here on Earth you obviously succeeded in finding this “Key” thing?’

‘Yeah, with a lot of help from the Green Queen.’

‘Who?’

‘A goddess I ran into. The Queen of Mytherious Wood, the place where we had the final showdown with Prince Valerie, Sir Rodney, their two armies and that creep Damion.’

‘I’m afraid you’ve lost me again,’ Dave told him.

‘Doesn’t matter. Yes, I did find the Key …’

‘And what was it?’

‘It was a key.’

‘The Key was a key?’

‘Yes. The Key was a bloody key.’

‘And what about the Door?’

‘What Door?’

‘The Door that the Key was for.’

Travis shook his head. ‘There was no door, Dave. I simply wished on the Key and I was back home.’

‘Very convenient for you.’

‘Yeah, that’s what I thought. And when I woke back in my own bed I thought for a while that it had all been a crazy ream. But then I discovered I wasn’t alone. In my kitchen I found Beatrice, Jack and Sharon.’

‘Beatrice? She’s another demon?’

‘No, she’s just a pain in the arse. She’s also a princess.’

‘What were they doing there?’

‘Having breakfast and watching GMTV.’

‘No, I mean why had they come back with you?’

‘I haven’t a clue! I was under the impression that once I found the Key my troubles would be over.’ He stubbed out the cigarette. ‘Instead they’d only just begun …’

As Travis stared in disbelief at Beatrice, Jack and Sharon the doorbell continued to ring.

‘You’ve got a visitor, dickwit,’ said Jack from his perch on top of the refrigerator.

‘Oh God, it’s probably Heather,’ Travis groaned.

‘She’s your lover, isn’t she?’ asked Beatrice as she continued to nibble at a piece of toast.

‘She was. I think my status is about to undergo a major review.’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Sharon, quickly, disappear!’

‘Why?’

‘Because I don’t want Heather to find a naked woman in my kitchen!’

‘Why?’

‘Just do it!’

‘Oh, all right …’ Sharon vanished.

Travis pointed. ‘Jack, get in the fridge!’

‘You’re kidding. I’m not getting in the friggin’ fridge. It’s cold in there. I could freeze to death. And what if I run out of air?’

‘Jack, you’re no longer mortal. You’re a demon. A bit of cold and a lack of oxygen isn’t going to hurt you. And it won’t be for long. Please!’

‘Sheesh,’ muttered Jack. But he fluttered down from the top of the fridge, opened the door and disappeared inside.

‘What about me?’ Beatrice asked him.

From the sound of the doorbell, Heather, if it was her – and he was pretty certain it was – was leaning on it. Heather, he knew only too well, had a bad temper. To Beatrice, ‘Just stay where you are. With any luck I’ll be able to get rid of her without her coming in here. But if she does, keep your mouth shut and let me do all the talking.’

‘Sure,’ she said, and started buttering another piece of toast.

Travis went out into the hallway and opened the front door. It was indeed Heather. She looked furious. Then her expression changed to one of surprise. She looked Travis up and down. ‘Well, that’s a great way to answer the door. What if it wasn’t me?’

He remembered then he was just wearing his green y-fronts and his Wasp Factory tee-shirt. Then he remembered where his dressing-gown was. On Beatrice.

‘And look at you!’ continued Heather, now sounding puzzled. ‘You look as if you haven’t shaved for a week, and you really need a haircut. How did you get into this state in just two days?’

There was a good answer for that but Travis wasn’t about to give it to Heather. Instead he muttered, ‘It’s hard to explain …’

Heather pushed by him. ‘I imagine it’s also hard to explain why you stood me up last night.’ She headed for the kitchen. ‘You didn’t even bother to phone …’

He closed the door and hurried after her. ‘I couldn’t phone you, Heather. There weren’t any phones where I ended up.’

‘What about your mobile?’ she asked as she entered the kitchen. Then she said, ‘Oh!’

Travis followed her into the kitchen. She had come to a dead stop and was staring at Beatrice who was sitting at the table in his dressing-gown. Beatrice was stunningly beautiful and even in his dowdy and frayed dressing-gown she looked every inch a fairy tale princess, which she was. Beatrice smiled at Heather and gave her a little regal wave with the piece of toast. ‘Hello, Heather,’ she said brightly.

Heather turned and looked at Travis. The icy stare from her blue eyes could have frozen a burning oil well. ‘I’m all ears,’ she said in a voice just as chilly.

Travis thought fast. Too fast, he would soon realize. ‘Er, Heather, I’d like you to meet Beatrice. She’s from, er … Australia.’

‘Oh, really? And what’s she doing here? And more importantly, what’s she doing in your dressing-gown?’

‘She’s staying here for a while. And she forgot to pack her own dressing-gown so I loaned her mine.’

Heather gave him a look that made his balls quiver. His reaction was to dig himself into an even deeper hole. ‘It’s not what it seems. Beatrice is my … cousin.’

‘You never told me you had relatives in Australia,’ said Heather.

‘Didn’t I? Gosh. How strange. My uncle Robert, on my mother’s side, immigrated out there years ago.’

Heather turned back to Beatrice. ‘You’re from Australia?’ Beatrice, though looking blank, nodded eagerly. ‘Yes. I am.’

‘You don’t sound Australian. In fact, I can’t place your accent at all.’

‘It’s Tasmanian,’ said Travis quickly. ‘Entirely different accent from the rest of Australia. Tasmania’s an island, you know. Off the south coast …’

‘I how where Tasmania is,’ Heather said coldly, ‘but I wasn’t aware Tasmanians had different accents.’

‘Well, they do,’ Travis told her. ‘Right, Beatrice?’

‘Oh yes, we Tasminions have entirely different accents.’ ‘See?’ said Travis. ‘She even pronounces Tasmania differently.’

‘Very well,’ Heather said. ‘So whereabouts in Tasmania do you come from, Beatrice?’

Beatrice looked helplessly at Travis. Just then there came a sneeze from inside the refrigerator. They all looked at the refrigerator. Then Heather said, ‘What was that?’

‘What was what?’

‘It sounded like someone sneezed inside your fridge.’

‘Nah. Must have been some ice melting,’ said Travis. ‘I’m, er, defrosting it.’

There was another sneeze, followed by an angry mutter.

Heather said slowly, as she stared apprehensively at the refrigerator, ‘There’s someone in your fridge, Travis.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he laughed. ‘How could anyone fit in there?’ He wondered what her reaction would be if she opened the door and saw Jack.

The phone rang. Thank God, thought Travis as he snatched it up. ‘Hello?’

‘Travis, what the hell are you playing at?’ demanded an angry voice. Travis groaned inwardly. It was his editor, Martin Shulman. ‘You were going to call me immediately after your interview with Prenderghast and put me in the picture. I rang this number and your mobile for hours last night and got zilch. What happened?’

‘Er … something unexpected came up. Sorry. Circumstances beyond my control and all that …’

‘So what was the outcome with Prenderghast?’ Shulman asked him eagerly. ‘Did he confess?’

‘Well, not exactly,’ Travis told him.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘There were complications,’ said Travis. He glanced at Heather. She was still staring warily at the fridge but she hadn’t made a move towards it. At least the mystery of the fridge had distracted her from the mystery of Beatrice. For the time being.

‘Complications? But we can still run the story, can’t we? I need it by the end of the day so the libel lawyers can give it the once-over.’

‘I may have to postpone it, Martin. I’ll have to try and talk to Prenderghast again.’

‘What?’ exploded Shulman. ‘But you promised you’d have it all tied up by today. You know it’s going to be the main feature in the next issue!’

‘Martin, I’ll call you back later and explain everything,’ Travis told him. ‘But right now I’m kind of tied up. Bye.’ He hung up on his editor before he could say anything else. He saw that Heather was now subjecting him to the same intense scrutiny that she’d given the fridge.

‘Don’t tell me your Prenderghast exposé blew up? After all your work?’ she asked him.

‘Something like that,’ he admitted. ‘As I told Martin, there are complications.’

‘And you’re not going to tell me what they are either, are you?’

‘I will, but not right now. Later, I promise, when I’ve got a few things sorted out.’

She glanced again at Beatrice who smiled prettily back at her. ‘Such as your Australian cousin here?’ she said pointedly.

‘Yes,’ he admitted.

Heather nodded, clearly having made up her mind. ‘I’m off to work. Call me later. When you can tell me all about your complications.’ Then, after giving the refrigerator one more suspicious look, she marched out of the kitchen. Travis hurried after her. He caught up with her as she was going out the front door.

‘There really is a good explanation for all this,’ he told her, somewhat desperately.

She smiled and said, ‘There’d better be.’ Then she added, ‘She’s very pretty, your cousin.’ And slammed the door shut behind her.

Travis sighed and returned to the kitchen. Sharon had reappeared and was having another cup of coffee. Jack was hammering on the inside of the fridge door and yelling, ‘Lemme out of here, you bastards!’ Travis opened the door and Jack tumbled out, shivering. He spread his wings and flew back to the top of the fridge. ‘That was a great idea, dickwit. Next time you hide in the frigging icebox and I’ll sort out your babe.’

‘Sorry about that,’ Travis told him, ‘But it was all I could think of on the spur of the moment. Pity you had to start sneezing.’

‘You’re lucky I didn’t start farting. You’d have to throw all your food away. But I did learn something interesting from the experience.’

‘You did? What?’
. . .