Alice & Doreen

Doreen entered the house with Fergus in tow. The tatters of his cloak hung around him and his face was a picture of misery and fear.

‘So,’ said Alice. ‘It’s the MacFarquhar boy. What have you been up to, eh?’

‘Leave him be, Alice.’ Doreen led him to a chair. ‘Lorraine, get him a mug of coffee.’ Fergus was shivering under her hand. She pushed him into a chair and went round the room turning up the radiators.

Lorraine returned and handed the boy a steaming mug.

‘You’re all right now,’ said Doreen.

‘He may be all right, but what about the rest of us? There’s been something damned strange going on tonight, or my name’s not Alice MacKerril.’

Doreen sat on the arm of Fergus’ chair and put an arm round his shoulders. ‘Don’t bully him,’ she said. ‘He’ll get round to it in his own time.’

Alice impatiently waited while Fergus calmed down under Doreen’s soothing murmurs. He had stopped shivering, but his face was still pale.

‘So, young man,’ said Alice, with a ghastly attempt at a smile. ‘Where have you been tonight, eh?’

Fergus stiffened, but Doreen patted him on the shoulder.

‘Better tell us,’ she said. ‘You’re going to have to tell someone.’

‘The Foxes Dens,’ he said reluctantly. ‘It was a meeting.’

‘Ah. The Sons of Cromm Cruach or whatever it is. Dabbling in things you know nothing about, I suppose.’ Her fake smile disappeared. Her voice was sharp as a whip. ‘What happened?’

‘We did a ritual,’ said Fergus, ‘a horrible ritual. Then the clouds drew down and a thing came out of them, a huge being, a god or a demon or something, naked and grey and horrible.’

Alice’s mouth pursed. ‘I thought as much. Was it male or female?’

Fergus looked around at the women. ‘I don’t know. Both, I think.’

‘What do you mean, both?’

‘It was both.’ Fergus blushed. ‘It had, you know – it had a woman’s chests and a man’s... thing.’

Alice looked at him in outrage. ‘It had dugs and a dongler?’

‘Yes.’

Alice looked at the other two women. ‘Who the hell was it?’

Doreen patted his shoulder. ‘What ritual did you use?’

‘Well, we marched round the fire and chanted...’

‘Yes, of course,’ Alice said. ‘But what did you chant? Do you remember any of the words?’

‘Man khahar nadaram vali baradar daram.’ The three women looked at him in incomprehension. ‘It’s in Persian,’ he explained. ‘I think it means, That is not your horse, it is my horse.’

‘What?’

‘It was just made up. Just a joke, you know. Or at least I thought it was.’

Alice frowned at him. ‘That’s not going to raise up a supernatural, no matter how gullible you are. Was there nothing else?’

‘There was one other bit I could understand. It was in English, just before the sacrifice...’

‘What? A sacrifice! You idiots!’

‘Stop it, Alice,’ said Doreen. ‘He’s worried enough. Go on, then, Fergus. What was that bit?’

‘I can’t remember it all. It’s something to do with Seven.’

‘Come on, can you remember any of it?’

Fergus’ face was dead white and frightened. ‘I don’t want to say it.’

Alice sneered at him. ‘For goodness sake, it’s already done its job. You can’t make it worse now.’

Fergus shook his head. Alice glared at him. ‘Doreen, give us a circle of protection.’

Doreen went to the kitchen and returned with a wooden spurtle and a jar of Allspice. Muttering to herself, she threw pinches of the aromatic spice to the corners of the room then, pointing with the spurtle, she turned around, marking out a circle that included everyone present.

‘All right,’ said Alice. ‘You can tell us now. We’re protected from evil influences.’

‘Except from those already in this room of course,’ Doreen whispered to Lorraine. Alice turned her eyes on her for an instant, then back to Fergus.

‘Now let’s hear it, or what you remember of it.’