With the cashier still howling in agony, Ben Hudson grabbed the cash from the counter and stuffed it into his pocket. He figured he’d scored less than two hundred pounds. Not enough to warrant having put a bullet in the young woman’s leg, but plenty for his current goal.
Glancing around, he spotted the CCTV camera and froze. It was aimed directly at his face; there was no way he could not be recognised. Unable to suppress a grin, he counted to five then turned, left the premises and headed for his car. The ignition failed to fire at the first twist of the key.
Typical, he thought. My luck is always bad. This wouldn’t happen to Miles.
He turned the key again. The engine whined, spluttered, then coughed into life. Ben eased the car off the forecourt and floored the accelerator. Thirty yards ahead, an automated traffic signal illuminated the number 30, admonishing him for his excessive speed. By the time he left the village, he was doing eighty-five.
Mid-afternoon on a Tuesday meant there was little traffic to slow his breakneck race through the country roads. He had to slow for the many twists along the way, eliciting a curse from him each time, but he knew he would reach Miles’s house in good time.
Sparing a quick glance at the rucksack sitting on the passenger seat, he couldn’t contain a laugh. The contents would change his life for the better. Whatever blessing graced Miles’s existence would be smiling down on him before the day was over.
He thought about the day Miles had entered his life. He’d received a handwritten letter, through the post, signed by a Jeremy Kempton. Jeremy had invited Ben to a lunch at a swanky hotel in the city. Had the message arrived by email, Ben would have shrugged it off as a scam but he knew of no modern scammers who took the time and expense to issue physical mail. Intrigued, Ben decided to attend at the appointed time.
Besides, he had nothing better going on in his life. Still living with his mum at twenty-four and with his benefits at risk of being cut because no-one would employ him, he could at least get a free lunch out of this. What he hadn’t expected to gain was an extended family.
Ben snapped his eyes back to the road a second too late to prepare for the tight bend he was speeding toward. He stomped on the brake and yanked the steering wheel to the left. The tyres complained as the rear end of the car fishtailed wildly onto the opposite lane. The seatbelt locked, digging into his shoulder, but did not prevent the violent jostling motion slamming his head against the headrest.
The car continued to spin, traversing more than 180 degrees until the back tyres fell into the ditch on what had started as his left-hand side. The full momentum had not been spent however and the car rolled, flipping onto the passenger side before coming to a rest on its roof.
Ben tasted blood as he hung upside down. His vision was blurry and his disorientated arms flailed. It was five minutes before he was able to gather himself enough to find the seatbelt release. He braced himself for the fall then pressed the button. The catch unhooked and deposited him ungracefully onto the inner roof. By wriggling awkwardly, Ben was able to crawl out of the open driver’s window and fall onto the dry grass.
Jeremy Kempton had seemed pleased to meet Ben, far more than his brother Miles. After a few minutes of awkward pleasantries, Jeremy explained that their father had not always adhered to his marriage vows. Many had been his dalliances but Jeremy had only recently learned that one such encounter had produced a child, a half-brother to him and Miles.
Ben took in their fine clothing, the manicured nails and the apparent ease they felt at this high-end restaurant. It was obvious that they had not been raised in a single-parent home on a council estate. He had never known his father so it could be true that they were related. It could be equally feasible that they were specifically targeting him to harvest his organs.
Neither scenario mattered to Ben. All he could see were two men for whom life had dealt a better hand than him. If they wanted to share that wealth with him, whether out of brotherly love or as a bargain for his kidneys, he was ready to take them for all they had.
‘The bag,’ Ben screamed into the empty field. He pushed himself to his hands and knees and crawled back to the wrecked car. He grabbed the rucksack from where it lay on the upturned roof, pulled it free from the car and tore it open.
The menat which rested inside seemed undamaged. The two lengths of cord and the multicoloured beads they sported were all intact. The cords were fastened – at what he considered the top, or the back – by a dozen thin threads of twine, each festooned with smaller ornaments. None appeared to have snapped. And the main decoration, the piece which would rest on the wearer’s chest once the menat had been placed over their head like a necklace, was also unbroken.
Ben had often wondered why the strap would be so bright and attractive while the prize it bore was so plain: a thin piece of rough-hewn stone which resembled an upside-down mushroom with an unusually long stalk. But who was he to argue what the ancient Egyptians found appealing?
The artefact certainly looked unscathed but whether it was still able to help in his plan was left to be seen.
Ben pushed himself to his feet, wobbled for a moment, and pulled out his phone. The screen was cracked in two places, neither of which were a result of the recent accident. Opening Google Maps, he saw that he was only three miles from Miles’s home. Shouldering the backpack, he set off on foot.
Following that first meeting with Jeremy and Miles, Ben had not seen his half-brothers for several months. Their social circles were worlds apart and, while Miles could barely hide his contempt for Ben, Ben found Jeremy to be a somewhat odd character. He seemed obsessed with ancient civilisations, specifically in their mythologies and rituals.
In one of the rare instances their paths crossed, Jeremy expounded at length the theory that ancient cultures held around soul transference. They believed that, by some magical rite, the essence of two people could swap bodies. Ben understood the concept – he’d seen Freaky Friday – and knew it to be hokum so he decided he needed to avoid the crazy man.
That was the last time Ben saw Jeremy before his untimely death.
An hour and a half after leaving the crashed car, Ben arrived at the driveway to Miles’s home. He leaned against the gatepost to catch his breath, studying the property.
The house stood around three-hundred feet from the road, accessed by a wide drive which cut through well-kept lawns. It was a large two-storey building, once a farmhouse or the country retreat of a rich family. Though it was probably hundreds of years old, there was no sign of wear or deterioration. Ben knew that an obscene amount of money must have been showered on it to keep up the pristine appearance.
He pushed off and began walking to the house. As he neared, he saw the door to a double garage – possibly a converted stable – and several discreetly placed security cameras. He’d cased enough properties in his time to know that breaking in here would be next to impossible.
Seven years ago, Jeremy had perished in a house fire from which Miles had narrowly escaped. The near-death experience must have affected Miles because that was when he warmed to Ben. Having had no apparent interest in his half-brother after their initial meeting, Miles made an effort to reach out and build bridges.
Reluctantly, Ben relented and the two of them met up on the odd occasion. It seemed Miles shared his brother’s fascination with ancient magics and spoke often of a soul transference ritual. But that was not their only similarity.
From Ben’s observation of Jeremy, he had grown to suspect he lived a blessed existence. All worked out for him, every endeavour he attempted, each scheme he plotted. And the more time he spent with Miles, the more he realised this good fortune graced both their lives.
He cursed his own life. He had been born into poverty and desperation, while his half-brothers had everything handed to them on a silver platter. He wished there was some way he could trade places with Miles.
The front door swung open as Ben approached the house. Miles scowled from the hallway.
‘You’re late,’ he said, then turned and stalked away.
Ben followed him inside, clutching the rucksack tightly to his chest. He was led into a luxurious sitting room. White leather sofas and heavy mahogany furniture sat on the hardwood floors. On the wall, a muted 70” TV showed the local news broadcast.
‘This piece you asked for,’ Ben said, dispensing with pleasantries. ‘It’s just for your private collection, yes?’
For the briefest moment, Miles’s eyes flashed with concern but he hid his feelings quickly.
‘You know about my interest in the ancient world and its antiquities,’ was the only explanation he offered.
Placing the bag on the nearest sofa, Ben reached in with both hands. He retrieved the menat in his left hand, leaving his right hand inside and wrapped around a second object.
‘I’ve done some reading, you see,’ he said. He lifted the artefact high and, once he was convinced it solely held Miles’s attention, pulled his other hand free, hiding the knife behind his back.
‘You and Jeremy have both talked about how body swapping was a real thing in the past. There’s a lot of obscure books in public libraries that seem to agree with you.’
Miles’s face twisted into a wry grin. ‘You believe it?’ he asked. His tone was flat, without a trace of incredulity.
‘There’s one way to find out.’
Ben sprang forward and slashed the knife at his half-brother, tearing through his shirt sleeve and drawing blood. He opened a similar wound in his own palm and thrust the menat at Miles. As their blood splashed onto the Egyptian tool, Ben chanted the foreign words he had learned.
A terrible dizziness overtook him. The room spun crazily and he felt he was falling. Crying out in fear, he threw himself to the ground and curled into a protective ball, screwing his eyes tightly closed.
Slowly the vertigo passed, the whirling sense of movement stopped. Ben opened his eyes and clambered to his feet, wincing at a sharp pain at his upper arm. He looked at the other man in the room and gasped.
Before him stood a dishevelled man in tattered clothes, dirty and sweaty from a three-mile hike. The face was instantly familiar yet oddly different. It was a face that had stared back at him from the shaving mirror numerous times before, but reversed. The scar above his left eyebrow was on the opposite side to which he was used to seeing it.
‘I can’t believe it,’ Ben said in Miles’s voice.
‘It worked,’ the other man said. The whining voice grated in Ben’s ears. It was a sound others heard every day but he only heard in recordings, his true voice.
Miles-now-Ben’s glance was drawn to the TV.
Looking down at unfamiliar hands, Ben-in-Miles’s-body chuckled. He could scarcely believe it. The body swap had been a success. He was now, for all intents and purposes, his half-brother. The grace, the luxury, the fortune – it was all his now. Having been shown how the other half lived, now he would get that life.
‘What have you done?’ Miles asked.
‘Soul transference,’ Ben said. ‘It’s not a myth, it’s real.’
‘I know that,’ Miles snapped. He waved an arm at the TV. ‘I meant what have you done before you came here.’
Ben turned to see his face – his old face – grinning up at a camera. The picture was grainy, typical for images caught on CCTV. Miles grabbed the remote and unmuted the sound, allowing the newscaster to warn them not to approach the armed robber who police were currently looking for.
‘My insurance,’ Ben said, turning back to Miles. ‘I can’t have you being a thorn in my side. What better way to get rid of you than to have you arrested for crimes you – that body – committed?’
‘No, not yet. It’s too soon.’ Miles rushed from the room, with Ben close behind.
‘There’s no point running,’ Ben called. ‘They’ll get you eventually. And don’t try telling them you’re Miles. No-one’s going to believe such a farfetched story.’
He followed Miles up the stairs and into the large master bedroom.
‘I was hoping to get some free years before this,’ Miles muttered as he opened a drawer. The item he pulled out was black, withered. It looked like it was centuries old. Ben felt his bile rise when he recognised it as a disembodied hand.
Miles pressed the relic to his throat and spoke in a language unknown to Ben.
The light in the room dimmed. The scent of sulphur permeated the air. A dry wind rose from nowhere.
Ben cried out when the bedcovering erupted into sudden flame. He tried to back away but found himself rooted to the spot. In the tongues of fire, a dozen eyes came into view, flicking this way and that, looking at Ben, at the ceiling, at Miles, at the walls.
Miles stopped chanting and held his arms to the bed. As though it had a mind of its own, the fire crawled forward and sprang up to Miles. A voice from within the flames spoke, the words ancient and forgotten but the meaning translated in Ben’s mind.
Nargrath answers your call. Nargrath accepts your sacrifice. Nargrath grants you seven years of bliss.
The fire returned to the bed, leaving Miles unscathed. It grew closer to Ben, all eyes fixed on him, on the body that had belonged to Miles.
Nargrath recalls this flesh. Nargrath is owed from seven years past. Nargrath will take payment now.
Flames reached forward and wrapped around Ben in an agonising embrace.
Allamu stumbled from the burning room. Every new body he inhabited had its own nuances, and it often took several days until he could master control of the frame. As his previous vessel, the body which had once been Miles Kempton, writhed and screamed, Allamu made his way out of the house.
The face he now sported was wanted by the police but he felt no trepidation. The demon Nargrath would weave its magics and keep him protected. Safe for seven years at least. It would then return for the flesh promised, the bargain Allamu had made for the devil’s security.
This did not concern Allamu either. He had seven years to locate another vessel into which he could jump, another link in the chain of his life which stretched back thousands of years.
Comments