Chapter Text
It had been a rather peculiar day. To begin with, her cats had made a fuss since just about when she first let the poor buggers in. Scratching and licking all over, trying to tear up the carpet and each other. It... unnerved her, those so often soft dopey eyes now huge and enormous. Karen from Accounting had even tried scratching her once. Now, Karen was generally a hellish fiend, hence its name, but they had reached a sort of peace treaty wherein Dolores would approach her if, and only if she had her special made cat food with her. The other ones would purr all over, as cats do, but not Karen. Karen had more of a reserved approach, which Dolores respected. She didn‘t need constant attention to love them dearly. She was, after all, a human and not a cat.
Where was she? Oh. The cat. Anyway, Karen had not only scratched her wrist when offered food, she‘d also purred while doing it. Karen had never once purred before. Dolores thought it might‘ve been her tinnitus, but then the bugger opened her mouth and let out the deepest purr meow she‘d ever heard. The whole encounter had shook her to her very core, leaving her to tend to her garden shell shocked.
Gardening normally always relaxed her but today it seemed to vex her further, constantly looking towards the house on the other side of the road. Needles making its ways down her back. As if someone, or something, was watching her.
It was all very queer.
That night, after her daily reading session, she decided to head to bed early. Just because she‘d felt like it. And because her back was killing her and her some of her kittens - sadly only 2, she usually preferred a purring entourage of at least 4, but it would have to do - had finally calmed down enough to desire cuddling her sorrows away.
Percival had just started cleaning the back of her arm, all loving and doting attention to detail, when something disturbed them. Like a pin hitting the floor, suddenly all their backs started rising up from the linen, tails standing at attention. Dolores couldn‘t very well look what was going on with her awkward position on her back, completely immobile. But she could hear feline commotion outside her door.
„Catsanova, that you?“ she yelled to the door. It was always him. The little troublemaker. Fire starter. „Quit your nagging and get over here!“
No reply. There was a soft breeze flying over to her side of the bed, comfortable at first but then far too chilly for her liking. The cats on her still hadn‘t moved an inch, rudely planting their paws in her stomach and legs. She annoyingly shushed them away and off the bed.
With no slippers, no socks, and no damned jacket on, she went staggering back into the living room. It became very clear early on what the whole fuss had been about: one of the stupid buggers had somehow managed to unlock on her windows again. The cats were screaming and yelling their hearts out over it, all positioned in front of it like a big, bad enemy.
„‘s wrong with you?“ she asked, with all the warmth of a middle aged lady being woken up from her sleep. „There‘s nothin‘ there!“ Dolores went over to the enemy and gestured vaguely outside. There was only her garden, and her garden couldn‘t hurt her any more than her kitchen could hurt her. She was safe here. Or so she thought.
Because at second glance, there was something queer there. Besides the window being miraculously opened by cat spies, someone had knocked over one of her garden gnomes. Just the one. Normally they were all standing there, meticulously arranged to look like the friendliest version of themselves they could be. All five of them. Now.... one was missing. AWOL.
Dolores craned her neck outside, immediately being engulfed in a swirl of wet coldness that was UK weather, but couldn‘t find him. A particular stormy whirlwind might have carried him away, out of her reach, stranded the poor gnome on someone else‘s garden grounds. That would have to be Thursday Dolores‘ problem, because Wednesday evening Dolores couldn‘t be bothered. So long as it wasn‘t that garden ground. She shuddered.
„Bloody weather,“ she muttered under her breath while trying to stick her head back inside as gracefully as possible. It wasn‘t as easy a task as she‘d thought. „Urgh.“
Dolores really should have brought her glasses along with her, because what greeted her in her own living room could not be what she thought it was.
Her gnome. Her poor, little, well meaning gnome. Beheaded. On her book stand. And scribbled on the wall there a stick figure, giving her a friendly wave. The stick figure was long and gangly and, worse of all wore a pair of dark shades. It made her stomach queasy to look at that dark red liquid on her brightly coloured wallpaper for too long, not wanting to know what it was. Shades. A man.
Anthony.
She took one cat, the one nearest to her, not even caring who it was or whether it cared about being manhandled like this, and clutched it to her chest like a lifeline. „Oh, God.“
„Not quite. Gotta look the other way round,“ said a figure from the shadows, not there just a minute ago. Dolores feared her heart might give out, along with the ones of her cats. They were all in attack mode, growling and hissing like crazy at the shadows. The man‘s - or was it a man? - sunglasses started glinting in the moonlight. Dolores‘ knees were just about to give out.
„Heya, Dolores,“ the heathen said. When he stepped out of the shadows and onto her carpet, his hands started dripping dark red liquid on her wool. Dolores whimpered at the sound of that voice, at the same time that the cats started their feral meowing. The man just grinned in response. „Been a while. My most sincere apologies for not coming sooner, but I was a bit preoccupied. Had a few loose ends to tie up. You‘ll understand.“
„Demon,“ she hissed, moving towards the door. She didn‘t know what kind of games the homosexuals were playing at these days, what with the blood and breaking and entering, but she wasn‘t keen to find out.
An invisible grip tightened around her throat like a leash, pulling her back and making her stumble onto the carpet. It felt searing hot around her throat, like the shackles of hell. She shuddered at the thought. Dolores heard a „Ts“ noise behind her.
„Dolores, Dolores, Dolores,“ the man reprimanded - Anthony, she‘d remembered now. „You‘ve really upset me, you. Would even go as far as to say you‘ve hurt my feelings, dearie.“ When she turned around to face him from her inferior position on the floor, he tilted his head at her in question. „What were you thinking with those gnomes? They‘re absolutely atrocious. Completely bludgeoning the good neighbourhood‘s reputation.“
„What are you?“ she spit out. Sure, she knew homosexuals were capable of a lot of things, she had cable after all, but not this. Not ... tricks such as this. She‘d thought the teenagers would send him to a priest to be reprimanded. It obviously didn‘t go as planned. Her blood ran cold at the thought of those poor, unsuspecting, innocent little children. Lambs to the slaughter. What good Christian she was.
„Neighbourhood watch,“ Anthony replied, grinning. He started wiping his blood drenched hands on her favourite leather recliner. That movement hurt her poor heart more than the previous gnome beheading had done.
A cat approached her attacker, tail up high and fuzzy. Percival, her strong boy. Her knight in shining armour. Anthony hissed back at the small furry creature. „I never tended to understand why you humans are such hoarder sorts. Especially when it comes to pets. Disgusting.“
Dolores Pennyhurst had seen and defeated a lot of evil, had won a lot of battles. Once, when her local church had suggested an intercultural meeting with other religions, she‘d done a sit in strike. She was sitting now, but she didn‘t much feel like she was winning. This evil was right in her home. Had tended to her garden.
„You know,“ the demon said, sitting down on the recliner with his limbs wide stretched, „you really ought to reread the bible some time if you‘ve got a minute. God really isn‘t as condemning as you think she is. Or, well... she is, just doesn‘t give a rats arse about sexual orientation.“
Dolores had no idea what God this demon was talking about, but it wasn‘t hers. Hers was a white older man with long, flowery white beard and hair. Hers loved fiercely, and hated even more fiercely. She chose to gracefully ignore his comment, choosing instead to focus on more pressing matters.
„What did you do to those kids?“
„Oh, you mean those exorcists? Pfff, they‘re fine. They‘re...“ He made vague, dramatic hand gestures. „... lying in a ditch somewhere. Ehh.“ She gasped out loud at that remark, fully body shudder overtaking her. Anthony looked at her questioningly. „Oh, come on now, they weren‘t exactly the pious type. Bunch of hippies! Democrats!“ He gasped dramatically, wide eyed. „Wait, you didn‘t know, did you? That you sent in a couple of those sexual deviants you despise so much to defeat me? Ah, thought not.“
She gasped, clutching the cat in her arms further. „No.“
„Yes. We had a grand old time, had ourselves a parade. Chatted about politics and what not. And now, well... I‘ll let you in on a little secret. God‘s most hidden one.“ He leaned in closer towards her, stretching his legs an obscene amount. The next thing he whispered: „God actually only allows gay people to pass heaven‘s threshold. Strictly gays only, VIP and all. She just adores them. So, those three? Probably partying up with Mercury or one of the other. I wouldn‘t worry too much about them, I‘d worry a little bit more about you, girlie.“
The words shook her to her very core, not just the outrageous and most likely false picture of heaven he‘d painted for her, but also the threat of violence. Dolores didn‘t know how to fight someone with fists, she only had her vocal chords and her expressive vocabulary. And by God, she was going to use them.
„You‘re foul! Creature of the devil, preying on the weak! You should be ashamed of yourself, young man!“ That last sentence always worked with those young folks.
„Hey now,“ the creature said, seemingly wounded. „That‘s no way to talk to the gentleman who helped you with your garden work, don‘t you reckon? And look how nice it‘s gotten. Reminiscent of the garden of Eden. Heh.“
„A few acts of kindness won‘t change your nature, heathen.“
Anthony sighed. „I guess you‘re right. But then again, where do you think that leaves you?“ He looked around, towards the piles of furry creatures assembled around him, ready to strike. „And your little... house rats.“ He pointed a finger at one of them, shaped like a gun. Said cat - Benzo - started whimpering and cowering in fear at those damned fingers. She‘d never before seen Benzo tower at anyone‘s feet, much less a stranger.
Not for the first time, Dolores Pennyhurst felt knee buckling fear growing within her. The feeling started growing more and more oppressive when the man decided to stand up and make his way towards her position on the floor. She let go of the cat in her lap in favour of holding her hands up over her hand in surrender, survival instinct clearly winning over wit.
„Please...“
The man looked bored at her whimpering. „Please what?“
„Please don‘t... kill me.“ She didn‘t know what else to say. What else was there? Don‘t hurt me? That went without saying, she‘d thought. Don‘t hurt my cats? At this point, she would be fine with a few of her kittens being hurt if it meant her surviving this night.
The demon was fully standing in front of her now, and Dolores was too terrified to look up, in fear of what sight would greet her. Glowing eyes, fangs. A mouth filled with fire. More blood.
„What do you have to offer me, then? Make me an offer. What is the life of Dolores P. worth?“
The question caught her off guard. „What?“ she asked to the meticulously cleaned black shoes in front of her.
The demon hadn‘t even noticed her remark. „You know, you‘ve got a nice house. Homely. Spacious. Big room for just one spinster. And the garden, pfff, that would just about put anyone to shame.“
She didn‘t understand. „Do you want to... move in with me?“ The thought of sharing a kitchen with someone seemed suddenly far more troubling than dying. „I, I don‘t think-“
He cut her off, not with words, but with that evil force in the air again, tightening around her throat. It closed around neck like a vice, leaving hardly any air to breathe. And then, just as fast as the sensation had come, it retreated back to its master like a hell hound on a leash.
„Please, like I‘d want your dirty knickers mixing in with my shirts. Don‘t kid yourself. Your company‘s not that enticing, just not that into you.“ He contemplated a thought for a moment. She still did not dare to look up, her throat was still constricting painfully in panic. „How would you feel about a simple business transaction?“
„... I...“ She didn‘t know what to say.
„It‘s simple, Misses P. You formally hand over your nice, chic house over to little ol‘ me, contract and everything. You have a week to move out and to rid this place of any and all fur, hairball or flower print. I want my new home looking sharp, not like a grandma‘s den. Move out of the city, to the country side. Your debt to me will be paid then, and only then. If not, I‘ll find you. And promise me, you don‘t want that.“
Move out? Her? Out of the home she‘d been living in since she was 30? How... Unbelievable. Absolutely not. Inconceivable. No way. And yet what came out of her mouth after a moment was: „Alright.“
Her throat still hurt. Her babies still hadn‘t been fed today. And she just really didn‘t feel like dying on this particular night. Dolores always thought being suffocated by one of her fur balls in her sleep would be how she would go and this was so far removed from her fantasy.
„There‘s a good lass! Knew we could come to an agreement.“ The demon apparently clasped his hands together in excitement, creating a loud wet sound. She chanced looking up just as he‘d started going back towards the shadows. His grin made her stomach clench.
The cat closest to him started hissing again, though Dolores couldn‘t make out who. She was proud, either way. The demon put a hand inside his pocket and proceeded to toss some - what looked to be seeds? - on her carpet. „Tada,“ he exclaimed. Her cats went absolutely bonkers over those seeds, like she‘d never seen before. They were practically scrambling over each other to roll around in them.
„There ya go. All good now. Greedy creatures.“
Dolores looked to the cats, then to the demon, then to the cats again. Percival started mounting Catsanova to gain leverage. She had no idea what in the bloody hell was going on.
„I do hope I‘ll have that contract in my letter box by next week. Signed. Oh, and another thing!“ He started turning around from his way back to the shadows, as if there was an open door he could just disappear out of if he so pleased. Dolores didn‘t put it past the forces of evil. „I‘ll have a box of your finest pistachio biscuits along with that, if you‘ll be so kind. Your special home recipe, you know the one. I‘ve got, heh, an angel at home who‘s just about dying to take a bite out of one of those.“ She just nodded along dumbly.
And just like that, Dolores Pennyhurst was alone in her dark home no more. Homeless, gnome less and friend less. With nothing but an extensive to do list and a bunch of cats currently tearing each other apart to get to those seeds.
She decided, right then and there, that she‘d just about had it with the big city. Along with its demonic inhabitants. Should‘ve listened to her daughter in law. London was no longer what it used to be.