ME & THE MONSTER

hunters

"Bless my twisted little soul, Verity," a voice said, in the canopy of trees above my head. It sounded like something lurking in a graveyard. "Is that what I think it is?"

I stopped in mid-bite of my cheese sandwich. Whenever I could and the weather allowed, I enjoyed having a spot of lunch in a little park near the Park Royal Station.

I looked up, mystified. The leaves shone. I thought I glimpsed a flare of movement in the corner of my vision, but when I looked again, there was nothing.

"My, my," another voice answered, buttery, snake-sleek. "We haven't seen one of those in ages, have we, Vesper?"

"That is correct, my friend. And may I say what a lovely sight it is, always, a demon woman with mozzarella on her chin."

"Quite lovely, Vesper, if not slightly anticlimactic."

I whirled around, scanning all around me. I wiped the cheese from my chin with an unsteady hand and demanded into the trees: "Who are you? Show yourselves!"

A low chuckle drifted with the wind.

"Ah, and what would be the fun of that, dear lady? No fun at all."

"Are you fairies?" I asked. I felt a prickle of unease. "Are you witches?"

"Witches," one of the voices repeated, with deep contempt. "As if we'd be anything so common."

"Exceedingly common, Verity. Exceedingly common. Never seen eye to eye with the likes of them, not since that dinner party in the eighteenth century, you remember."

"I remember only too well. Fairies, too, dear friend. Rather vulgar sorts, fairies. One of them had the nerve to swindle me at the last Market – swindle me."

"A disgrace. Alas, London isn't what it used to be, not any longer." A sigh shifted the leaves. Then, meditatively: "Do you think our dear lady knows?"

I  frowned. "If I know what?"

The other voice slithered into speech: "I don't believe she knows, Vesper." Then it was lowered into a theatrical whisper meant to reach my ears. "Demons aren't what they used to be, either. So ignorant these days. No fire about them, no proper class, if you know what I mean."

My face burned.

"What are you talking about?"

"Can't you feel it in the air, demon woman? Can't you feel it in the whisper of the leaves? How the sun shines a little brighter – he can't help the effect he has on the nature of things. Even if he's repulsed by it and rebels against it."

"Well," the other said, in slow, ponderous tones. "He's an angel, my friend, at the end of the day. At the end of the night."

I felt it, then, a tingle across my skin. A rush of rage and fear threatened to swallow me.

I scrambled to my feet. "Kal!" I shouted. I didn't know if I was being brave or stupid, or both, but at the moment I didn't care. "I know you're there. Don't hide, you coward! Come fight me."

"Cheek," one of the beings said. "You wouldn't have realised, if we hadn't tipped you off. You know, Verity, I really don't hold with people who pretend others' merits are their own."

I ignored them, my heart thumping while I scanned my surroundings. A minute passed. Nothing happened. Another minute, and another. I began to think – and a small part of me, if I were to be honest, hoped – that the beings and I had been wrong.

But then there was a rustle in the bushes, and Kal strolled out, as idly as if he'd been taking a nice walk around the gardens. He was buckling his belt. It clinked in his hands.