Free Mammon by J. B. Thomas Page A

couldn’t we just stay in the cellar, Dad?’
    â€˜This room is armoured, Grace.’
    â€˜What does that mean?’
    â€˜Demon-proof. In more ways than one. This room is a cage. Look at the walls.’ He strode over to the fuse box and pulled a switch; the room fell into darkness again.
    â€˜See?’
    Grace peered at the walls, where a foreign script was splashed in luminescent blue paint. ‘What does it say?’
    â€˜They’re incantations. But that’s not all.’ Another click; the dreary glow crept through the room again as the fluoro lit up. Dad nodded at her, his hand still on the switch. ‘The part you can’t see is the virtual cage that this room is. EMF-protected. Demons can’t get in here.’
    â€˜What do we do now, Dad?’
    â€˜We sit and wait, son.’
    * * *
    MAMMON RUBBED HIS palms together. ‘Soon. Very soon.’ He gave Halphas a rare grin.
    The old man returned the smile. A cloud was lifting overhead. Soon – very soon, indeed. Master was bound to reward him for this.
    Andras frowned as an unwelcome rumbling hit his pocket. He fished out his phone. ‘What?’
    â€˜They’ve gone into the ground,’ the voice responded. ‘Past the cellar. There’s a trapdoor, but it’s deadlocked. We can’t break it.’
    Andras peered sideways; Mammon was staring at the sky, watching the darkness crawl towards the horizon. Andras turned away and hissed into the phone. ‘Listen, you bug! Draw them out. Do what you have to!’
    â€˜Okay, sir.’
    â€˜Remember – do not let the boy come to harm.’
    â€˜Consider it done.’
    Halphas’s skin began to tingle. ‘The Line of Protection has been re-activated.’
    â€˜I know. But it won’t bother the humans, will it?’
    For the first time, Halphas felt his demonhood a handicap, rather than a gift. He watched as one of the men struck a lighter, which brought a yellow glow to the house. ‘Get it right, damn you,’ he muttered to himself.
    * * *
    â€˜HOW LONG NOW, DAD?’
    â€˜Half an hour, honey. Won’t be long.’ Dad lowered his watch, giving Grace another reassuring smile. Mum tilted her head towards the ceiling. She gasped. ‘Danny!’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Can you smell that?’
    â€˜I can see it, Mum!’ Joe pointed to the trapdoor, where tendrils of smoke were gathering around its edges. Grace tensed on her chair, her fingers ached from holding the edges so tightly.
    â€˜Here.’ Mum ripped open a cupboard door and snatched out wads of blue cloth. She rushed over to a small metal sink and flicked a tap, which brought out a gush of water.
    â€˜Hold this against your mouth.’ Mum pressed a cool, wet square to Grace’s lips. ‘Now, get down on the ground.’ Grace bent her knees, steadying herself with one hand to sit next to Joe. She crossed her injured ankle over her knee and stared at Mum, who held a cloth to her own mouth, exchanging urgent stares with Dad. He glanced upward; she nodded. The tendrils had gathered to form a grey cloud. ‘There’s an extinguisher in the cellar – if we can get that far.’
    â€˜Doesn’t feel as though there’s enough heat for the fire to be in the cellar. No, it’s further up. Someone’s trying to smoke us out.’
    â€˜Here.’ Mum threw Dad a pair of goggles.
    â€˜Cover your mouth, Joe.’ Dad bent over a long metal chest, shoved tight against the wall. Yanking the lid open, he drew out a rifle and peered inside the magazine.
    Joe held out his hands. ‘Yeah! Gimme . . .’
    Dad shot him a warning look. ‘Only if you need to use it, son.’
    Joe nodded. He motioned to the rifle. ‘Hand it over, Dad.’
    Holding the rifle ready in front of his chest, Joe stood. ‘Come on, Dad! Let’s go upstairs!’
    Dad sighed. ‘Son. Listen to me now. You can’t afford