The Talented Blackwoods Chapter 5

The grammar was offensively bad in places, but David had to admit that Aunt Stella’s book did manage to convey the technique of astral projection quite clearly. In the hour since they had been banished to the attic, he had read 100 pages, which was more than half the slim volume, and felt ready to put his talent to the test. It was basically a matter of relaxing and meditating into a near trance state, and then sitting or standing, but leaving your physical self behind. He was sure he would find it a simple process – he had the hereditary Blackwood talent after all.

He lay back on the camp bed, closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and then began to slowly exhale.

“What are you doing?” asked Jason.

Perhaps not quite as easy as he’d hoped.

Without opening his eyes, David responded. “I’m trying to do something, but it requires concentration, which means I need total silence.”

He shifted his position slightly, trying to get comfortable on the torturous bed. It sagged so much in the middle, it was like sleeping in a hammock.

He inhaled deeply. And became aware of someone breathing inches from his ear. He opened his eyes. Jason’s pale, freckled face loomed over him.

“Why are you standing there?” he demanded, half sitting.

“I’m just watching.”

“Well, watch from your bed. How can I go into a meditative state with you breathing the stench of cheese and onion crisps all over me?”

“I haven’t eaten any cheese and onion crisps,” said Jason, heading to his bed.

“Well, then you need to brush your teeth more often,” said David, settling down again and closing his eyes. “No more talking. Or breathing loudly.”

David repeated the deep breathing exercise, concentrating on the sound of his own breath, shutting out the real world, letting each part of his physical body relax. The book said that once a state of meditative calm had been reached, he should open his eyes and imagine his astral body standing close by and then focus on that image as he sat up, and finally stood in its place. If successful, he would be able to turn and see his actual body still lying on the bed. And then he would have the freedom to explore the lower levels of the astral plane. Surely no big deal for someone who had already, inadvertently, entered other people’s dreams, and somehow enhanced them to film-like clarity.

“Has it worked?” asked Jason.

“For God’s sake!” David sat up and turned to glare at his cousin.

Jason screamed and scuttled backwards across his bed, grabbing a pillow and clutching it to his chest.

“What the Hell is wrong with you?” demanded David.

Jason pointed in his general direction. “You’re dead.”

David rolled his eyes. “Well, obviously not.”

“You’re a ghost,” stuttered Jason, still pointing.

David glanced down at his own body and gasped. He could see through his legs to the complex pattern of the bedspread. He examined his hands, which also had the same transparent quality. He slowly stood, walking a few steps towards Jason, who huddled even closer to the wall, and then looked back at his own bed. His physical body still lay there, eyes open like a corpse.

“I did it.” Even he hadn’t expected it to be that easy. “But how come you can see me?”

Jason just stared at him with bush baby eyes.

“The whole point of this is that I’m not supposed to be visible to anyone not actually on the astral plane with me.”

“I can see you!” insisted Jason, now looking feverishly from David’s prostrate figure on the bed to the phantom-like astral body.

“Some freak talent of your own, maybe,” said David. “I guess there’s only one way to find out. See you later, Cousin. And no blabbing to your mother or Aunt Stella about this.”

Jason shook his head, which was a rather ambiguous response, but David didn’t really care if his aunts did find out. It was why he was here after all, to learn about his talent.

David considered opening the skylight and testing his astral body’s ability to fly effortlessly to the ground, or maybe soar over the rooftops of Camden Town. But he felt a rush of vertigo just at the thought of it and instead headed for the stairs.

Walking felt like wading through the shallow end of a swimming pool – not something David did often, as he wasn’t a fan of water. He also felt a pulling sensation, as if one wrong move could result in him being yanked back into his body. He took each stair with the tentativeness of a child creeping downstairs at night for a secret snack. He heard his grandmother’s voice snaking up from the living room, authoritative but also slightly hysterical – a combination only she could pull off. He thought about hovering outside the living room door to eavesdrop on their conversation, but he wasn’t particularly bothered about his uncle’s situation; also if irritating little Jason could see him, maybe the other Blackwoods would also be able to.

He stood by the front door. Did he need to open it? He reached out a ghostly hand, intending to try the latch, but instead it passed through the door, tingling with pins and needles. That answered that question. He followed his hand and arm through the barrier, his body throbbing like an electricity generator. Aunt Stella’s road lay before him, glistening as if covered in a sheen of frost. In fact, everything seemed to radiate a dim glow – the pavement, the houses, the streetlamps, even the people. He watched a young couple hurry by, both bearing the Ready-Brek aura.

David heard raucous shouts and laughter coming from the street beyond his aunt’s and decided to investigate. He needed to test how far he could wander from his physical body, and to confirm he was invisible to everybody other than his cousin.

***

“So, to recap,” said Miriam Blackwood, smoothing the swathes of fabric that spread around her, so that she appeared to rise from a black lake. “My son’s body is currently possessed by a demon, who snuck in while he was unintentionally wandering on the lower astral plane. You took it upon yourself to have him collected by two of your astral walking buddies and taken to some private hospital, where he is under sedation while they try various inept methods to draw out said demon?”

“I’m confused,” said Angela, leaning forward to make eye contact with Stella. “When you said you had friends keeping him in a safe place, I assumed they were members of some secret society who regularly took care of people like you in situations like this – not a pair of queens with a nursing home!”

Stella bristled. “They are not a pair of queens; they are a very committed couple, with incredible talent, who also happen to own a private hospital, which is how they have the medication and equipment to keep John sedated and alive. Stephen is also a qualified doctor. There is no secret society, Angela. I wish things were that organised. They are good friends who have put their own lives and business at risk to help me – us.”

“And,” interjected Miriam, “at what point did you decide it would be a good idea to leave helping John to these two amateurs, rather than confiding in me, your mother. The woman from whom you inherited your talent. Probably the most gifted member of the Blackwood family. The person who, quite probably, would have by now ejected this demon from her son’s body and had everyone back in their own homes living their happy little, incredibly boring, lives.”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” said Stella.

“Oh, bless you, darling. Because I am such a weak, feeble old lady? It’s not like I have any experience of dealing with creatures from the Dark Plane. That’s what we call the astral level where the demons reside,” she added, for Angela’s benefit.

“I thought you would be busy with your acting career,” added Stella. “It always seems to keep you very busy.”

Miriam made a deep sound in the back of her throat. “Nothing but cameos in Casualty and The Bill for months. It’s as if I never had a film career. And as if I’d put that before my son’s safety anyway!”

Looking at her ferocious mother-in-law, Angela was inclined to agree that involving her from the outset would have been a good idea. If she’d known Stella’s friends were just a pair of do-gooders rather than members of some mystic society, she would have made the phone call herself.

“What would you suggest we do, Miriam?” she asked. “Now that you are up-to-date on everything?”

“Firstly, I want to see my son,” Miriam replied. “And I don’t just mean his astral self, I want to see him in the flesh.” She held up a palm to hush her daughter before she could protest. “I don’t care about any stupid promises you’ve made to these friends. I am going there tonight. Once I’m there, and I can get a better idea of what kind of demon is inside him, I will be able to form a plan. One that will actually work.”

“Can’t you visit him from here?” asked Angela, “You know, fly there in your astral body.”

“Physical proximity is an advantage in these scenarios,” replied Miriam. “Now, can somebody please get me a glass of something alcoholic. Angela, I’m guessing you know where the wine is kept. Make mine a large glass of red.”

Angela went to stand, then hesitated. “Another thing I don’t get,” she said, turning to Stella, who was curled up on another armchair, looking like a scolded child. “Why haven’t you been to try and help John? He’s your brother, you’re a Blackwood, surely if anyone was going to be able to get this thing out of him, apart from Miriam, it’s you.”

Stella opened her mouth to speak, but her mother cut in.

“Stella’s not good with demons, dear. She had a little run-in with one when she was a girl. She actually let it into her body without even realising it. The creature was living inside her, sharing her head like an evil parasite.”

“How could you not know?” asked Angela. Again, Miriam supplied the answer.

“Stella thought the demon was her friend, didn’t you, darling. It used to appear in her dreams, looking like a cute little girl, calling itself Lucy.”

“Please shut up!” snapped Stella. “It wasn’t that straightforward. I met her on the astral plane. She claimed to be a real girl who had somehow managed to survive after her physical body had died. Eventually, she asked me if she could share my body, claiming otherwise she would disappear, and I would lose my friend. Anyway, once she had taken up residence, she started to turn nasty, constantly trying to bully me into doing bad things. I finally told mother about her, and she knew at once what Lucy was.”

“And I got rid of her for you,” said Miriam.

“How?” asked Angela.

“By sacrificing someone else,” said Miriam. “A man I was seeing at the time – a movie producer called Leonard. I convinced Lucy that he would be a much better host for her, and she took the bait.”

‘Can we change the subject?” pleaded Angela. “I still feel terrible about how we used poor Leonard.”

“I’ll tell you the rest another time, Angela,” said Miriam. “Let’s have that wine and plan our journey. You can drive me. Stella can stay here and babysit. But when we get there, you keep out of the way, understand me? You’ll be of no use to me, apart from as a taxi service.”

Angela wanted to respond, but her mother-in-law’s bluntness, as was often the case, had stunned her into silence. Not so Stella, it seemed.

“This taxi driver was useful enough to fight her husband while he was possessed by a demon, force him into a wardrobe and tip it over so that he couldn’t escape,” she stormed, unfolding from her chair and leaping to her feet. “This useless woman showed more courage in those few minutes than you have shown in years, and while you’re in my home you can treat her with some respect.”

Angela found herself speechless once again.

Miriam eyed her daughter for a moment. Angela half expected laser beams to shoot from her violet eyes and turn Stella into a pile of ashes.

“Yes,” she said finally. “I suppose Angela is the courageous daughter I never had.”

***

David was surprised at how his sense of smell was so acute, even though he wasn’t physically in the pub. But the stench of cigarette smoke, beer-soaked carpets and vomit was overpowering, as was the body odour of many of the patrons fighting for space in the area close to the bar. One thing was certain, none of them could see him. Not one person had so much as glanced in his direction. A few had shuddered as he passed through them, unable to weave around their bodies because of the sheer volume of staggering drunks. The sensation of phasing through them was unpleasant for him, too. Each time, he felt as though the act had left an oily slick of their being on his astral form.

He stood in a corner now, surveying the sorry scene. Why did people want to congregate in places like this? Did they realise how ugly they looked, staggering around with wet mouths and piss stains on their trousers? He guessed he had managed to infiltrate one of Camden’s less salubrious public houses. Most of the drinkers were male, missing most of their teeth and already too inebriated to talk in full sentences, even though it was only just after six. He couldn’t imagine Aunt Stella popping here for a tipple.

He noticed a door to the street over to his left and slid along the wall towards it, wanting to avoid any more contact with this pub’s regulars. Surely there were more inspirational sites to behold in Camden Town. Wasn’t it supposed to be the alternative capital of London?

He took several, he assumed imaginary, breaths of chill air as he pushed his way through the heavy door onto the street. There were hordes of people here too. A mezé of tribes, mingling, for now at least, harmoniously. Punks, Goths, boys with shaved heads in tight jeans and DM boots. Even a middle-aged man dressed in a long floral gown and trainers seemed to go unnoticed.

David turned onto what he guessed was the main high street. Here, the throng of people was even more dense. Across the road, a mass of market stalls had been stripped back to their skeletons. A few straggling stall-holders were in the final stages of packing away their unsold tat.

He turned left, following the main flow of people, passing shops, all still trading, lights flooding the pavement, enticing the evening’s revellers in to browse their motley offering of leather goods and tacky t-shirts. Hardly alternative.

A little way ahead, a railway bridge crossed above the street, emblazoned with the words Camden Lock, and to the left another sprawling space, until recently a market, but, once again, now stripped almost bare. Beside the shadowy city of stalls, a dark canal lay still and dead. Despite its desolate state, people were turning off the main street and weaving through the evacuated market. Obviously, beyond the wasteland lay something to tempt them. Pubs and bars with a little more appeal than Aunt Stella’s local, no doubt.

The pulling sensation was growing stronger, more urgent. He thought he might be reaching his limit, at least for his first outing on the astral plane.

“Hello.”

David jolted with the shock of being spoken to, or more precisely being seen. The speaker was a boy of around his age, dressed in black trousers and a grey roll-neck jumper. He was perched, elf-like, on a wall next to the canal. He grinned impishly at David’s stunned expression.

“I’m William,” he said, jumping from the wall. “We can shake hands if you want. My body is made of similar material to yours.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” said David, ignoring the other boy’s outstretched hand. “How come you can see me?”

“The Blackwoods didn’t invent walking on the astral plane.”

“How do you know…” David saw something move among the crowds of people, something sleek and black, crawling between the stalls. The word ‘oozing’ leapt into his head.

“What’s that?” he asked.

William’s friendly grin faltered. “I don’t see anything.”

Another movement caught David’s eye, this one on a nearby roof – something else dark and oozing, snaking around the chimney tops.

“Come and sit with me,” said William. “I’ll tell you all about myself and how I can see you.”

A year before, David had been approached by a middle-aged man, dressed like somebody’s dad, and sporting a similar grin to William’s. The man had asked David if he could help load a chair into the back of his van. Even if David had been inclined to help strangers load vans, he wouldn’t have helped that man. He’d known instinctively not to trust him, and he felt the same way about William. At least part of him did, but he was also drawn to the boy, as if he offered something desirable. David couldn’t remember someone generating two such opposing feelings in him before.

David saw more of the dark shapes. They seemed to be everywhere now, sliming across rooftops, scuttling across the railway bridge, lurking in the gaps between buildings like hunters waiting for prey to pass.

“Come and talk with me,” insisted William, his cheery veneer now slipping.

David knew he needed to return to his body. There wasn’t time to walk back the way he’d come, he needed to get back instantly. He screwed his eyes closed as he would do to wake from a dream, pictured the attic room and his body on the camp bed.

He heard the familiar buzzing behind his eyes.

“Don’t go!” William screamed.

A whooshing sound filled his head, his stomach lurched, and his heart throbbed as he was yanked back. He sat up, clutching his chest, gulping in air, as if he’d been submerged under water for too long. He was back in the attic.

“Are you okay?” asked Jason, hovering in the space between their beds, and for once, David was glad to see him.