Josh started to laugh.
My jaw dropped, at the sight of him laughing uproariously like he was at some comedy show.
Just moments earlier while I was wrapped in his arms he'd said, "Don't doubt me, B."
And I didn't, because it was clear he found this situation genuinely funny. Not even the greatest of actors could fake laughter so convincing as that what came from Josh at that moment in time.
Eventually his laughter subsided, "If you're the Devil, then I'm the second coming." His voice was sharp with a dismissive sarcasm.
He walked forward, threw his arms out wide and shouted, "He hath returned – I am Jesus Christ of South London. But please, my devoted congregation, call me Joshua of Camberwell," his voice full of convincing theatricality.
Despite the glare of the spotlights I saw the girls in the front row react with extreme reverence, they blessed themselves and whispered prayers.
I put my hand to my forehead to reduce the glare and try to see some more of the audience. I searched for any sight of the black clad mystery man, who may or may not be my dad, or Granny Grace. But I saw neither, just a myriad shadowy shapes sitting in the darkness. The light was such that I could only decipher and identify the girls.
The man, who claimed to be the Devil, remained quietly in the shadows: lurking, observing.
Josh raised his hand to clearly show the gun to the audience, then he turned to the man who claimed to be the Devil. He put the gun down, "So Mr. Devil, how bout me and you have a dual, a fair fight, good versus evil – let's give these people the ultimate show," he exclaimed, with great gusto.
My eyes remained fixed on the gun, ready to pounce on it should I have to.
But I was too late, too slow, for a man shot from behind me and swiftly snatched the bang bang. I recognized him as one of the ringleaders that we'd identified on Dylan's mac.
He disappeared as swiftly as he'd appeared, into the shadows behind us.
Josh reacted accordingly, "So Mr. Devil really don't – like a – level – playing – field – eh?" His final words were strangely spluttered.
Alarmingly, he jolted forward, and it was clear to me he'd been smacked hard in the back. He was too winded to look back or defend himself. Finally his head slumped forward and he began to mumble, "They – got – me! Run – run – B." He said, his breathing heavy, like he was trying to recover from a long run.
Surprisingly, I was relatively calm, "I'm going nowhere without you, Josh," I said, determined. I ran to him, but was grabbed forcefully from behind, my arms were clamped together by incredible muscle power, and a sharp pain shot through me as the cuffs cut into my wrists.
Instinctively and with huge exertion, I shot my leg back and up – the resultant howling roar told me I'd hit my testicular target. I spun round and saw the guy doubled up, I drew my knee back and slammed it with full force into his face. There was a loud satisfying crack as his head flew back, and as it began to slump forward on its return journey, I drew my knee back again, this time launching myself with a jump and a knee smack that sent his whole body flying backwards.
The gasps from the audience were music to my ears, and when I saw him lying there, I knew he wouldn't be getting up for quite a while – good work for a girl with cuffed hands, I thought, proudly.
I waited, ready for the repercussions.
But none came.
At least there was no immediate violent retaliation against me.
So I went to tend Josh; terrified he'd been stabbed in the back.
But my brain struggled to compute what I was seeing – his feet hovered above the stage floor. I wondered if it was a trick of the light, all smoke and mirrors – which is what I now, suspected the Devil man was.
From the audience, I could hear murmuring whispers and jostling, like people were leaving – fleeing, perhaps.
But the spotlight prevented me from seeing and understanding fully, what was going on.
My attention turned back to Josh, "Are you hurt?" I asked, as he continued to rise ever higher.
He lifted his head, "No, I don't think so," I heard recovery in his voice and I raced round to his back to see what was going on. But his body turned with mine; and my cuffed hands made me unsteady, if I fell I'd struggle to get up.
So I stopped and asked, "What's happening Josh, what can you feel?" His arm reached behind him, "Something in my leathers is pulling me up," his words were whispered, only barely audible to me, and in that instant I knew he only wanted only me to hear this fact.
The spotlight began to follow Josh, and with the glare off, of me, I looked out into the audience to see the six girls, all kneeling, their hands clasped in prayer, looking upwards towards Josh.
Their mouths moved as if chanting and I saw they were all quietly crying. But they weren't tears of distress, in fact they were the opposite – they seemed to be crying tears of unbridled joy.
And tellingly, they were the only ones in the audience. Yet I knew there were considerably more people here when we first arrived.
My gut instinct told me, that somehow, we had de-railed, re-wrote the script of the intended Deliverance ceremony that Dylan and co had arranged. And I suspected we were getting help in this change of narrative – from someone else, who I quietly hoped was my dad.
Looking up at Josh, I knew his thoughts were travelling in the same direction as mine as he began to instinctively enact a role that came naturally. He began to raise his arms until they stretched out horizontally.
I raced to the front of the stage, the glass wall prevented me from joining the small audience, but I dropped to my knees and glanced upwards. And I saw the reverential sight that held the girls in awe.
Josh, suspended high above the auditorium, his arms outstretched, bathed in an ethereal white light. He looked otherworldly, messiah like – Christ like – to those girls, he really was, Joshua of Camberwell: The Second Coming.
Josh began to speak, his South London accent replaced with clear and well-pronounced words, "You have seen Satan on this stage this evening." He drew his arms forward and towards the girls, "I have come to save you, to cleanse your souls of all bad Juju, I have banished ESHU from you all." He raised his voice, "Go – run – rid yourself from your evil enslavers. Use force if you must!" He commanded.
The girls all blessed themselves before fleeing towards the back of the auditorium and out of my sight.
With all my heart, I hoped they would come to no more harm.
###
"Dylan, show yourself, confront us!" I shouted.
But I didn't get a response, nor did I expect one. But what I did know is that his sudden disappearance along with the Devil trick meant that they had re-grouped and were re-thinking their strategy. And when they struck the second time, it would be to exact serious retribution that would lack all Juju mumbo jumbo and would be full of major real-life-violence.
And – I had my hands cuffed behind my back, whilst Josh was suspended high above me – we were vulnerable and in grave danger...
