Free Black Angels???Red Blood by Steven McCarthy

was obvious the man was not poor and also that he was gainfully employed, judging by the room, which Tim gathered was the man’s workplace. The flat was not overly large and there was no sign of a woman’s presence.
    When the owner arrived he was relieved to find the old man there. He called him by a name which Tim didn’t catch. The old man introduced his friend as George, and encouraged George to show Tim what line of work he was in. Apparently George was a lighting designer who used to do the lighting for the big bands from Australia and overseas. He showed Tim some lighting paraphenalia and the plan of his next project, but Tim knew that George was only interested in talking to the old man. George and the old man sat down for a discussion while Tim made out he wasinterested in what the man did by flicking various lights on and off and casually going over the apartment again. Tim had an uneasy feeling about George even though he had known the old man for over thirty years.
    The old man and George caught up with what each had been doing for the last decade. Tim realised that they must be true friends and made an effort to see where George was coming from. The old man didn’t mix his conversation up as he did with other whitefellas and enjoyed a friendly chat. George offered them apple pie and ice cream which the old man accepted and Tim declined. After about three-quarters of an hour the old man and George shook hands and said their goodbyes.
    Tim thought they were heading back to Redfern but the old man walked past the station entrance and on towards Darlinghurst. They crossed Oxford Square and went into a pub. The old man quickly started up a conversation with some people at a table. There were three men and a woman at the table designed for two. The old man returned from the bar with two beers. He laughed and joked with the strangers and Tim couldn’t figure out whether he knew them or not.
    The old man pulled out a joint and lit it up. Tim, feeling paranoid by now, still smoked the pot but sipped his beer. The old man looked to be happy and enjoying himself. “Go and have a look at the band,” the old man encouraged Tim. Tim didn’t move. The Thing was playing, they told him. It was getting creepier by the minute. One of the strangers stood up and said, “Come on, I’ll show you.” Tim reluctantly followed the stranger into the stage area. Much to Tim’s surprise the band was playing, because he thought they were having a joke on him. They went back to the table and Tim was glad to see the old man still sitting there.
    The old man laughed and laughed as they left the pub. The queaziness and paranoia did not go away until Tim knew that they were heading for Redfern. It was obvious to Tim that the old man had planned it like that. He had got a taste of the old man’s power and was now totally unsure of himself.
    As they parted company in Redfern, the old man, still laughing at Tim, told him, “Don’t worry. Have asleep. You’ll be alright.” Tim stood and watched the old man go down the street, still chuckling.

CHAPTER EIGHT
A SPELL
    Charlie was asleep, Tim gathered, when he arrived home. He turned the TV on and put the volume down low and watched music videos before falling asleep. He woke around daybreak, turned the telly off and went upstairs to bed.
    He woke again around ten that morning. He put his mind into gear and thought over the past few days. It became clear that the old man was testing him about the law. He couldn’t put it down to anything specific and it nagged at him. He was just about to put his head back down on the pillow when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs and Charlie entered the room. “I’m going out for a few hours. Are you going anywhere today?”
    â€œI’m going to have a rest and stay home,” Tim replied, propping himself up on his elbow on the mattress on the floor.
    â€œI’ve got some