Part 4

The elevator dinged and they wouldn't have thought anything of it if it wasn't for the sniggering that sounded out above the humming of the computer fans. Anar had always liked his co-workers pretty much; they kept quiet if you wandered off or had extra time on lunch break and in return he treated them the same, happily turning a blind eye and merely shrugging when Alexis came along snapping in his yappy fashion chasing up missing staff and being a bossy busybody. Crispin didn't have that luxury. He'd been held aloft as a Very Important Person and now he was falling from grace, no better than they were, easy pickings. Anar bared his teeth at the sniggering administrators and they shuffled off, suddenly disinterested in pointing and laughing at the human demon.

Crispin had stopped calming himself and looked at his friend with big eyes; “I am so grateful to have you on my side,” he admitted, “I really am. I keep thinking of the worst, like what if I'm put in a department far away from you? They'll tear me apart, Anar. Have me for breakfast! I'm a wimp. My dad's a wimp. We're all wimps! Sadistic scaredy cats. Terrified terrors...”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, Crisp. I get it. Look I-” he banged at his keyboard as another administration error popped up on screen with an audible 'bong!' “I am the fucking administrator! Holy crap I hate this system! I may have an idea,” he hissed, “it's crazy, it's completely out there but you know what? I don't think you've got too many options right now do you?”

Crispin looked to the left and right and pushed his head through the gap of the computer screens to get closer to his grey co-worker, “an idea? You managed to talk to your father? He can actually help us?” his voice was a wobbly mess and the last piece of his precious sanity that he was clinging onto was clearly slipping away.

'Bong!'

“I AM THE FUCKING ADMINISTRATOR!!”

Crispin's head shot back from the roar. Anar was not a happy camper. “Are you ok?” he squeaked. The eyes that turned on him were glowing. “I'll take that as a 'no'. I've said something I shouldn't again haven't I?”

“Are you two nattering again like a couple of old grannies?” Alexis demanded, claws on hips, frowning, still keeping a distance because he wasn't stupid. “You,” he gestured at Crispin, “are headed for the waste paper basket upside down when your dad gets kicked on Monday and you,” he gestured at Anar, “have been the bane of my afterlife for more years than I care to count and if I could get you deleted I bloody would!”

Crispin had never seen Anar move so quickly – a dark grey blur, a crack of knuckles, a swish of wings and a creaky tired office chair was blessed with the power of flight as it arced gracefully towards the frantically ducking middle manager. “And you,” Anar snarled as the item of office furniture bounced across the shiny polished floor noisily, leaving dents and scrapes, “have eaten more knuckle sandwiches than you've had hot dinners and yet you're still cruising for a bruising!”

The sound of running feet and the sight of a dozen pairs of eager eyes startled Crispin's senses as a crowd of floor staff appeared by the potted plants. Alexis straightened himself up and began to back away. Anar stepped forward, patting his fist into his open palm and cricking his neck. There were drawn breaths, 'oooh's' and 'ut-oh's'. This was the kind of Friday entertainment they liked; trouble that didn't involve them. Managers getting their just desserts. A good old-fashioned scrap.

“Anar, he's not worth it!” Crispin panicked, his mind reeling at the consequences of decking a higher level staff member. He dashed to retrieve the forlorn chair.

“Shhh! Don't listen to him, Anar; go on, thump him one!” A voice chimed in, bringing others with it.

“Yeah! Bash his stupid head in! He stole my red Swingline stapler!”

“Borrowed my F.R.I.E.N.D.S mug and didn't give it back!”

“Told me I couldn't play Hearts while on call!”

“Signed me up for spam mail!”

“Leaves the coffee pot empty!”

“Ate my quinoa out the staff fridge!”

Alexis gave a funny sort of groan and legged it out of the office space as fast as his skinny legs could carry him, out and down the far corridor to the conference room locking the door with a heavy click.

“Awwwww,” the disappointment was very real.

Crispin was relieved. He pushed Anar's chair back under his metal work desk. It was really in a bad way now; one wheel refused to turn at all and the back was springy even when locked with the lever. He paused for a fraction of a second and swapped it for a better one while Anar turned his back on the sulky onlookers who were shrugging and making their way back to their sector. He saw him grab his coat and bag. “What are you doing?”

“Clocking off early,” the aardvark grunted, “wanna shoot some pool?”

The human demon perked up some, “we're wagging?”

Anar nodded.

“But we're already in so much shit!” Crispin hissed. Regardless of his words, a cheeky grin was creeping onto his sharp face.

“What in tarnation is going on here?” A deep voice boomed. The two troublemakers turned to face a senior member of staff with a clipboard in hand, a pair of great curling ram horns atop his soot-coloured features and a deeply furrowed brow, “I can hear this racket from two floors away! Where's your team leader?”

Anar smoothed down his collar nonchalantly, “hiding in the conference room, sir. Think he's had a mental breakdown of some sort. He's over worked, to be quite blunt. Needs a holiday. But then, don't we all?”

The manager nodded, “you can say that again. Wait til I get my hands on him. What's his name?”

“Crowley, sir. Alexis Crowley.”

The goat-like face frowned some more, “oh, one of Aleister's lot is he? They've always been rather punchable.” He went to leave and had a thought; “where are you off to? It's not lunchtime yet,” he gruffed.

“We're skiving sir,” Anar said, walking Crispin to the elevator while the human stuttered and flapped. “Alexis told us we could.” The sleek metal doors slid open with a hum and they stepped inside, the vision of a very confused executive area manager fading from sight as the doors closed again and they descended down to the reception area.

“I do not believe you just did that,” Crispin finally managed to say, “that was like some Jedi mind trick or something! You just told a proper manager that we're wagging and he just let us!”

Anar grinned back, “demon's don't know how to handle the truth,” he admitted, “it blows their circuits. Ohhh Alexis is going to have a wonderful Friday indeed. The best.” The doors slid open again, “we'd better step quickly, just in case he calls security...”

After swinging by an eye-wateringly expensive major chain coffee shop and purchasing sugary caffeine-laden whipped-cream topped abominations with 'Anna' and 'Crispy' poorly scrawled in Sharpie on the paper cups the two mischievous demon friends climbed back in the Ferrari and drove across the city to the pool hall.

“My seats are made from the finest grade pure authentic Italian Leather from Florence; they're hand-stitched by kindly grandmamas, taken from pure-bred free-range grass-fed cows-”

Crispin hastily brushed away his dripped coffee foam from the upholstery; “I think your car is cross with me,” he muttered.

“It'll get over it,” Anar said, “distractions work. Give me the weather forecast.”

“A please would be nice,” the car sulked.

Anar frowned, “I swear it wasn't this sassy before. It's like everything I touch turns insolent.”

Crispin laughed, “you've contaminated it, mate.”

“You don't really want the weather anyway, you never do. It's always 'shut up' when I try to run through my programmes; 'shut up' to the weather, 'shut up' to your diary entries, 'shut up' to the news...”

“I don't mind the news!” Anar objected as they turned the corner to the pool hall, parking up on a nearby kerb. “I'll let you tell me the news, ok? None of the rest. Just news. Deal?”

“Your settings have been saved successfully.”

“Right. Good. Less of the cheek next time. Artificial Intelligence my arse!”

The underworld was a busy place. Many demons who fulfilled their contracts didn't want to go back Upstairs, it was fun down here in Hell and this is where their acquaintences were. Some even had their family together with them, much like Crispin lived with his dad in the fancy gated residence upon the Ridge. Obtaining permission to travel to the mortal realm to start a family was even more hassle than trying to bring your car or replacing a mangled form but it was possible with a bit of determination and plenty of demons had done just that. All that was required was an exam pass from the Infernal Holy College and your children could wander through the Abyssal gate and play happy families. Consequently, there was a demand for more modern forms of entertainment such as cinemas, video arcades and even fast food franchises which were busy day and night full of young cool minions. The pool hall was not one of the more popular places and that suited Anar just fine. He chalked his cue and sent balls scattering across the green cloth in their quiet corner. Pool had always been a favourite way of passing the time. Rap and Rave were able to play adequately enough to give him a challenge, though Rave did tend to get a bit frustrated when he couldn't win and Anar couldn't count the amount of times they's lost their cue deposit because he'd broken one in a hissy fit. Crispin was a much calmer opponent. The human tossed his empty coffee cup in the bin and eyed the table up, “so what was this idea of yours, then? That you mentioned before trying to flatten Alexis.”

“I want to help you get that stolen virus disk back.”

He pulled his cue back and looked up at the aardvark, “you serious? I mean, when you say 'I' you mean you, yeah?” Balls rolled. He looked sceptical.

Anar nodded. “I mean me. You said it yourself that I'm keeping things from you, there's much more to me than what I let people see.”

“Right! That 'grumpy loser' thing you have going on even though you could do a much more important job if you wanted. So what's that all about?”

Anar tapped his claws on the side of the pool table. This was it. This was where he took all the assumptions that Crisp had made about him and he shattered them into a million pieces, “I really really hate it here,” he said, “and I've been trying to get out for the past four years.”

“No hang on,” Crispin interrupted, “you extended your contract to a twenty year deal.”

“I did not!” His eyes appeared to glow and his teeth bared, “my father extended it on my behalf without consulting me. He'd have signed me up for an Eternity Contract if he thought he could get away with it. And guess what? I really really hate him too! I want nothing to do with him. Every time you mention him I want to claw your eyeballs out but I don't because I have a plan and it involves you,” he pointed at Crispin who was blinking with a slight smile on his face that had nothing to do with humour and everything to do with confusion, “I've done some crazy stuff trying to get out of this place and I've taken some extreme steps to make sure my father never comes anywhere near me! I don't go to any of the members' clubs, I don't so much as put a boot in any of the buildings he frequents and I most certainly do not put my purchases on his account! As far as that man is concerned I turn up to work I go home and in-between I don't exist.”

“Blimey. Ok so you and your father don't get on. What does that have to do with me?”

“If I can get that Millennium Bug disk back to your dad and restore his reputation I can ask a favour of him. A big one. A whopper.”

Crispin flapped his mouth, “you're an administration clerk, mate. How in Hell are you going to get back a piece of stolen hardware that's locked up in Matlock's house up on the Ridge? You're cuckoo. His place is like a fortress.”

“YOU!” The roar echoed through the hall. It sounded more than a little unhappy. It hadn't mentioned a name but Anar knew who it was directed at. Someone was pissed at him. It could be a fair few number of people really.

Crispin looked around and found the place worryingly empty. “Errr,” he squeaked.

A small group of particularly unwholesome characters oozed into the room; bloated and fat, thin and wiry, some furry and some scaly, it was a real pick-and-mix but one thing they all had in common was the fact they were brandishing rather large weapons. Not guns, they were too noisy and drew attention easily. These were the sorts of damage-dealing items that could split open your skull merrily without so much as a crunch.

Anar leaned casually against the table, propping his cue on the floor, “have you got lost on the way back from buying DIY equipment at B&Q?”

“Mr. Matlock is not very happy with what happened to our mate this mornin'”

“Oh, the idiot who ended up in the crusher? He probably climbed out looking better for it,” Anar said with a shrug.

“Aw come on now, lads, no need for violence. I'm sure we can sort this like decent demons,” Crispin begged, backing up.

“Isnt that an oxymoron?” Anar asked drily, gripping his pool cue and spreading his leathery bat wings as he stepped in front of his friend.

“Didn't realise Jez had hired his son a bodyguard,” the mob spokesperson spat, raising what looked like the world's biggest wrench up threateningly. “When we're done with you you'll look like roadkill...”

“Are you just going to stand there blabbing or what?” Anar snapped, a curious bubbling surging through his bloodstream. He'd not had chance to give Alexis what for but these goons were about to get a thrashing the likes of which they'd never forget.

Crispin watched through his hands as his friend spun his pool cue around and actually moved towards the very scary armed thugs that Frank Matlock had so kindly sent to keep them company. In a moment there was a clang of wood against metal and a thud! as a demon was sent sprawling on the carpet. All that fighting with Rave had obviously paid off. There was a sickening crunch! and Anar's heavy steel-bound New Rock boot collided with a squishy groin and Crispin winced, hard. Kicks, punches, body slams, the thud of flesh meeting pool table. But Anar only had a pool cue and they had steel. It was only a matter of time before he got a clonk on the head and it was 'goodnight sweet prince'. Crispin began biting his immaculate talons. Once Anar was unconscious it would be his turn; not to fight but to grovel on the floor and beg for mercy before being inevitably pummeled to mush.

Anar was having a grand old time; privately employed security demons were slow and stupid and so easy to anticipate. They watched the pool cue with beady eyes and that was their undoing as the cue was just a decoy- his boots and claws could do so much more damage! He was lighter on his feet too regardless of what Rave said about him being a fatso, I mean compared to raptors most people were chubby if you thought about it. The curious bubbling continued and he knew what was going to happen. It was inevitable. These guys weren't going to run away like Alexis did, they wouldn't stop until they were made to stop. Every time a demon hit the floor they got back up again, just crosser this time. The pool cue spun round faster still, he was like a grey fuzzy version of Donatello with massively long ears and without the tech wizardry.

He spread his feet wide apart and thrust the pool cue forward. His breathing was heavy, the heat of Hell was spilling sweat from his brow. His mortal body still retaining it's living motions. The gathered heavies weren't expecting him to stop and, quite rightly, they were a little suspicious.

“Jus' let us rough you up a bit and we'll go, yeah? Maybe break a bone or three...”

Crispin whimpered.

Anar's hands shook and the assailants began tittering, swinging their instruments of pain- bike chain, clawhammer, ten inch of lead pipe, the wrench thing and a baseball bat lovingly decorated with masonry nails.

But Anar wasn't trembling from fear or fatigue. No, he was simply holding back. But the time had come to just let it all out – all the frustration, all the angst, all the sheer hate he had towards this bloody place and everything it represented. He exhaled; “hey Crisp, you remember those natural magic types you were pissing yourself over back at your house?”

Crispin wasn't expecting Anar to talk to him. “What?” he asked with a wobbly voice, lowering his hands slightly from their shielding position. What was the crazy aardvark on about now?

Anar let the pool cue drop with a thunk! Still in his wide legged stance, he reached forward a hand.

“It's rude to point-” the demon flew backwards with a sharp cry of alarm and surprise, dropping its weapon as it crashed into the wall, leaving a crater as it crumpled to the floor in a wheezing heap.

The remaining minions all stared bug-eyed at their fallen comrade and slowly turned back to the rogue administrator. “Yeah, I'm one of them...” with a flick of a wrist a pool table rose up from its customary stationary state and slammed into soft weak flesh as the air lit up in a brilliant shade of blue and shimmered all around. The ground started shaking beneath them and somewhere out in the distance of the metropolis a siren sounded out, it's high resonating cry 'waa-waa'-ing. Holding out his grey arms, his hands crackled and sparked; more pool tables ganged up on top of the hired bullies until their gasping and wriggling was utterly futile. Windows began to shatter. Pieces of ceiling tile dropped down noisily, dust swirling in the crackling magic-laden atmosphere. Anar stood at the foot of the pile and admired his handiwork. “I wonder if Guen is hungry?” he mused, flexing his fingers and sucking the curious light back within.

Crispin watched but would not draw closer. What Anar had just done was impossible – you couldn't use magic in Hell! A demon's powers were deactivated. For everyone's safety. The bright blue light had made his eyes hurt, made his ears buzz. It still lingered in the air with its noxious odour, one he hadn't smelled since his Holy College days. Even there, magic had been tightly regulated; only allowed through the use of official wands, amulets and sorceror-staffs. To just move your hand and have things happen was, was simply ridiculous. Natural magic. Wild and untameable - even Hell itself was clearly powerless to stop it.

“Don't just stand there! Move you daft monkey!” Anar ordered, obliterating the door with a nod and making a swift exit, the low rumbling growl of his pet panther joining with the thunder of tumbling pool tables as the Astral cat enjoyed its lunch break. Good luck applying for a replacement demonic form when the original was being digested.

Crispin ran to catch up, loudly protesting at what he had witnessed but his new friend was not in the talking mood. They landed in the Ferrari's seats and Anar turned the key, speeding off towards the Ridge.

“Breaking news!” The car announced in a cheerful tone, “natural magic detected in Hell city centre. Investigation imminent!”

“Shut up!”

“No, you told me I could do the news and I'm telling you the news. We had a deal! Infernal security minions have confirmed the use of unpermitted magic powers at the Infernal Community Pool and Snooker Centre at 12:25 today. A plea for witnesses has been announced with the incentive of 'ten minutes violence against the oppressed' for any confirmed leads.”

The power had always been there, lying under the surface, sleeping. It was only when Anar got riled up that it would bubble and surge, prompting him to let it flow and time after time he had ignored it, knowing how stupid it would be to just give in and wreak havoc. Upstairs he was powerless. Down here he had an ability off the scale. But as with everything it had its price; Hell had magic detecting sensors and they were currently triggered, setting off the klaxons that were blaring out across the city with Anar's most recent location being transmitted on the news. And to top it off a bright red Ferrari from the mortal realm would have been seen screeching away and there would be someone somewhere who knew it was Anar's even if the number plate wasn't officially registered.

Crispin was sat in a subdued manner, clearly thinking through what he was going to say or ask as they climbed the slope towards his house. “If you can use magic here in Hell, which is meant to be impossible,” he said quietly, “why aren't you in the Inner circle? Power like that is guaranteed to get you in with the Executives. Instead you're hanging round with me. Offering to help for favours.”

“I told you. I don't want to be here and I don't want to draw any attention to myself – especially not from my father. I used my magic and now I'm on a Persons of Interest list. I did it because I had to, not for shits and giggles. You asked how I could possibly help you because you bought the whole illusion I used that I was just a dumb rich kid like you. Well now you know what I really am and now you know what I can do and all that I want is to get an appointment with that Contract Dragon so I can get the fuck out of here!”

“The dragon? That's your big plan? I mean, I guess it makes sense. He draws the contracts up so he can amend them. Put you back to ten years which you're close to halfway through.”

Anar shook his head, avoiding scree on the dirt road towards the gated residences. “You've seen the storm I've whipped up today; that business with Alexis, using my natural magic, how long do you think I've got until Infernal security are turning me on a spit? Oh, this isn't good!”

“Well no, I guess you really are a troublemaker – oh...”

Anar hadn't been referring to the mess he'd gotten himself into. He'd been referring to the Hutgart's pretty ironwork gate that was hanging off its hinges and was now barely attached to the low brick wall that surrounded the once fancy house. A house that was now looking thoroughly ransacked. Windows were broken, doors were wide open, paperwork scattered in the warm breeze.

“I hope Blink is all right,” Crispin gulped.

“You wanna go in and check?” Anar asked, “I can't risk using my magic here. I'm literally the only person who doesn't have a grudge against you or your father right now, if I so much as spark-”

Crispin nodded, “yeah. It's common knowledge you hang with me. That's how you got that black eye.” They sat for a moment longer in silence. Even the car didn't dare pipe up. “Where am I gonna go now?” he asked. “Can I hang with you?” then he frowned, “but you're right next door to Matlock's place, aren't you? So that's not safe neither.”

Anar revved the engine, “yeah, about that. Let me show you where I really live.”

The Ferrari spun round, cruised back down the old road from the Ridge and headed out towards the very edge of nowhere.