<>The morning light seeped around the edges of the wooden shutters and crept into the room through the filtering cloth so that even on a grey day such as this, the morning had a cheery glow.
Waking in the yellow room was like floating up out of sleep into sunshine and Jonny felt both rested and invigorated as he roused himself and threw back the duvet. The hangings parted at the touch of a button in the headboard and moments later the shutters swung open to allow more light into the room. Rain was driving hard into the glass but made absolutely no sound. The glass was a nearly shell proof laminate six inches thick and guaranteed to make a screeching worse than a banshee with toothache should a demon attempt to sneak through it. The low clouds gave only a flat grey light but the sea heaved and bucked in the throes of a hefty squall, white foam flecking the wavecrests of the iron grey waters, a day for indoor jobs.
Showered and dressed he had a light breakfast in the kitchen, savouring the coffee, a personal blend that he had to forsake out in the wider world of Starbucks and Costa Coffee clones. His next move was to the end of the long corridor in the opposite direction to the bedrooms, through the end door to his workshop and lab space. Heavy, time darkened teak benches bore the marks and stains of many an experiment with chemical and arcane ritual but on a gleaming new piece of optical bench stood a polished cylinder, the peizo tube of an atomic force microscope. He selected the STM head for it and secured it in position before connecting the little cables and powering up the controller and computer. For the past few weeks he had spent most of his free time practising using this esoteric piece of imaging equipment in its many different modes. He was confident he could carry out the experiments that Phil had been doing but he liked to practise them here beforehand if at all possible. He didn’t have any mutant channel proteins but he had secured a supply of the wild type, a few e-mails to helpful colleagues he had worked with recently usually got him what he needed, especially as he made sure they got something they needed in return. Sitting down before the computer he opened his lab book and noted the date and the experimental details before preparing the sample. This was where an experiment was won or lost, cut a corner and you might as well go back to bed, precision, attention to detail and complete cleanliness were essential. This meant that it took over an hour to prepare the layer of channel proteins and a further half hour to get the STM set up and thermally equilibrated. Finally he could begin. When he next looked up the storm had passed and the sun was beginning to sink towards the horizon, lighting a dazzling stream across the restless waves and through the thick glass to illuminate the lab.

He stretched and briefly considered another scan, but quickly discarded it, the fleeting moments outside would never be repeated. He removed the sample and carefully washed then dryed the cell before he powered down the STM and headed for the entrance hallway, pausing only to select a warm wind proof fleece from the cloakroom. Outside the stiff breeze rushed over the headland with a sharpness that caught his first breath but it was warm in the sun and he set off along the little track that shadowed the clifftop. Fulmars cruised effortlessly below him, riding the strong updrafts like surfers of the skies. Kittiwakes noisily cried out from their nesting ledges and amidst that joyful cacophony of life Jonny walked with a smile on his face and lightness in his step. He would miss this fabulous solitude whilst he was working in Prof Forest’s lab but being in a university city had its compensations, good company, as he recalled Jenny’s twinkling eyes, generous smile and flirtatious manner.
Artemesia gave him the metaphysical equivalent of a sharp elbow in the ribs.
“Its just sex Mesi.” He said with a grin. “You know that.”
“Yes.” She answered him and the bluntness indicated her still sharp memory of sex when she had possessed a young woman.
“If you’re good we can have a threesome.” He suggested cheekily.
“Maybe.” She prevaricated but he could tell she was more than willing to experience sex again.
“Then be an angel for now.”
“Yes Jon.” She replied meekly but he could imagine the naughty glint in her eyes.
They didn’t say anymore during the walk that took him around the bay to the lighthouse, shining a ruddy red and white in the last rays of the setting sun, its pulsing light beginning to shine out to warn mariners of the sharp reefs offshore. The wind dropped away and the world seemed to pause as the sun slipped below the shining sea and the first stars began to speckle the dome of heaven above him. Time to return and have something to eat, he hadn’t eaten since breakfast and he was in the mood for a right royal feast.
It took two hours to prepare and then three more to appreciate the gluttonous assemblage of food, wine and fine cognac. At the end he slumped in his chair, totally stuffed to the gills and yet his right hand was moving towards the decanter of cognac one more time.
“No more Mesi.” He uttered. “Be a good girl.”
He felt the pout but his hand stopped its un-summoned movement and he used it to pat his stomach before belching loudly.
“Pardon me.” He giggled, then sighed, it would have been better with guests but that would only have come at a price and this weekend was Artemesia’s reward for her vigilance while he had been setting up the new postdoc position. She had seen off five demon attacks personally and roused him for the one she could not handle during the nights that he had been exposed in his hotel accommodation.
“Time for bed.”
At least here he could sleep safely.

Morning brought him awake with bright sunshine and only a slightly muzzy head, one of the redeeming features of his condition, he never suffered a true hangover.
“What shall we do today Mesi ?” He asked as he sat up in the bed.
“Nothing.” She replied lazily.
“Hmmm, not a bad idea.” He mused. “But that means at least the Sunday papers and a pint down the Ship.”
“Okay.” Artemesia assented easily.
It wasn’t a long drive down the coast to the little fishing village of Pettygrew and Jonny took his time on the winding road, no sense in crashing his protection, if he wanted speed he had plenty of other cars and bikes to wreck. Parking in Pettygrew was not easy, the steep streets were narrow and liberally adorned with yellow lines but at this time of year he knew that he could leave the car down on the breakwater amongst the battered land rovers and pickups of the fishermen. They didn’t mind him doing that, he was a good customer of theirs in his free time, chartering their boats for fishing parties with friends from London or Glasgow or Leeds or…well just about any big city in the UK really, he had a lot of friends. As he pulled up behind a very battered white pick up he saw that Charlie was working on his boat’s engine as it lay beached by the low tide.
“Hi Charlie.” He called out from the quayside. “Fancy a pint ?”
“For sure.” Charlie grinned back. “But I’ve got to get this gasket sorted first, got a booking this afternoon.”
Jonny sniffed the air.
“They’ll need good sea legs.”
The wind was picking up.
“For sure.” Charlie laughed.
“Hey, you need a hand ?”
Charlie put his hand on his hips and cocked his head as he examined Jonny’s off white chinos and immaculate burgundy Berghaus waterproof.
“I need a mechanic like you need a stylist.” He pointed out. “Maybe catch you later.”
“Okay.” Jonny grinned and left him to his labour.
Picking his way around the puddles and ropes strewn across the quay he sauntered up to the Ship Inn, a building that seemed to grow out of the ancient stones of the breakwater like a bud on a cactus. The lights were on and a low buzz of conversation welcomed him as he ducked under the low lintel of the front door and entered the bar.
“Hey, Jonny.” The short slightly plump man behind the bar greeted him and excused himself from the locals he had been chatting with.
“Down for long or just a flying visit ?” He enquired as he extended his hand over the dark polished wood.
“Just the weekend alas Bruce.” Jonny replied shaking his friends hand.
“City keeping you busy then ?” Bruce questioned him as he began to pull a pint of IPA.
“Too busy, way too busy.” Jonny laughed.

Here he was known as a financial guru up in the Smoke with a penchant for the simpler pleasures of rural life, hunting and fishing, when his ‘job’ permitted it. He bought food locally, hired local men for his building work and joined in the local activities when he could. If anyone had a financial query or problem they took it to Jonny and he would take as much time as was necessary to help them through it, even making discrete calls to move matters along when he felt the faceless bureaucracy was being its usual inefficient self. Having extensive contacts in business he knew it was a complete myth that the private sector was the gleaming efficient engine it portrayed itself as. It was loaded with dullards and incompetents but they happened to be better paid than the public sector and had been canny enough to hire underlings who covered for their own inadequacies. So he integrated and ingratiated himself into the community and was well liked into the bargain.
“There you go Jonny, Times or Independent ?”
“Oh I’m feeling a bit capitalist today, Times please Bruce.” Jonny smiled as he accepted the pint and handed over a tenner.
“Thank you kindly.” Bruce said and rang it into the till. “Staying for lunch ?”
“What’s on ?” Jonny asked sniffing the air for clues.
“Tina, Jonny wants to know if its worth hanging round for lunch ?” Bruce called into the backroom and a very tall brunette emerged with a graceful bob under the low doorway.
“Jonny ! Hi, how are you ?” Tina beamed at him and came round the bar to exchange a kiss and hug.
“As you see me.” He grinned.
“You don’t look so bad.” She replied with a broad smile.
“It’s the prunes.” He joked.
But behind the happy banter he reflected upon the time that had passed since Tina and Bruce had come to Pettygrew from their city life, it had to be nearly thirty years ago, both their children had been born here, grown up and now left for pastures new. Bruce’s dark wavy hair was now greying at the temples and thinning on top while Tina used a little judicious dyeing to keep her locks coloured, both had tanned but finely wrinkled faces from their long years in sun and salt air. It saddened him to think that he would have to engineer his own demise soon for these wonderful people and re-emerge chrysalis like in a new incarnation, perhaps a cousin, to start the process of joining the little community all over again. Times decay had to seem to hold sway.

“Well if you hang around today I can tempt you with a seafood pasta to make you grow gills.” Tina informed him brightly.
“Lobster ?”
“You can have the claws.”
“Sold !”
Settling down in one of the quiet corners of the pub Jonny spread the newspaper out and enjoyed the combination of beer and current affairs with dashes of titillation on the side, the Times wasn’t the crusty old purveyor of dry facts and dusty commentary these days.
Charlie came in to ‘claim’ his pint and banter about an hour later, then took off for his own lunch as Jonny’s was brought to him; a fragrant steaming dish of fish, crustacean and crispy fried seaweed garnish with a separate dish bearing two mighty red claws.
“Yo ho ho.” Jonny greeted the food and began to tuck into it with huge relish.
You could get better food than this up in London but you couldn’t get a better place to eat it, and that made all the difference on this lazy Sunday, tomorrow would challenge him in so many ways, not all pleasant.
He left the Inn a little after two and saw the spray starting to splash over the tall stone breakwater as he returned to the car, yes the wind was rising steadily, time for all those little indoor jobs.
The rain was still lightly drifting across the headland as Jonny dumped his bags inside the boot of the old Golf Gti and thumped the tailgate shut.
“Time to leave Mesi.” He said quietly and a whisper of echo haunted the big garage space.
He felt her moving, she didn’t do this willingly but it was a part of their bargain, they shared but only for a limited time. It was a long slow wrench, like the peeling off of a scab that had not fully healed, there was pain, there was always pain. Then she was before him her beautiful face the very essence of desolation and loss, it made his own feeling of isolation all the more poignant.
“Come on Mesi.” He sighed and opened the passenger door for her.
He climbed into the drivers seat and fired the engine; a hundred and twenty on the clock and it was still as sweet as a nut as he blipped the accelerator. Rummaging in the glove box he found a couple of cassettes.
“Yeah.” He murmured and slotted one into the dash player.

The big iron door lifted up and over to show the night sky, a patchwork of cloud wrack and stars then there was a flood of light and sound as he accelerated out of the garage to the thumping strains of Bat out of hell. Prowling demons scattered like chaff before a blast wave and one that was too slow was sliced in two by the silver plated bumper and left to burn back to the primordial essence of hell as the car raced away down the dark lanes, heading for the city lights.
The basement apartment wasn’t much, little more than a place to eat, sleep and excrete, but then he didn’t want much more than that, a bigger place just made fortifying it harder.
Stepping through the front door he dropped the bags and waited for a moment, nothing, the hell hoards didn’t know about this place yet.
“Check the doors and windows Mesi.” He ordered.
“Yes Jonny.”
She wasn’t happy, but this needed to be done and she drifted back outside so that he could shut the front door on her. Her unhappiness went up astronomically as she tried to pass the warding charms laid on the door, then the windows and finally the back door that opened onto a tiny cell like light well beneath an iron grill. She was getting desperate as she returned to the front door and battered her way past the defence to emerge from the timber only to be trapped by the demon mirror that covered its interior face.
“Jonny !” She wailed, beating hopelessly at the glass like a moth against a light.
“Hush.” He murmured and touched the mirror slightly so that she could slip past it.
She rushed at him but was rebuffed while still a foot short.
“Easy Mesi.” He said in calming tones and let her know that she had not been abandoned, she was still loved.
Her agitation quietened, stilled. She looked at him with that hurt but loving gaze that had captured his heart when they had first met. Love at first sight, an eternal love.
“Sorry Mesi, but you know how important it is to be safe.”
“Yes.” She whispered.

The tiny living room come kitchen was hung with curtains and tapestries, swags of fabric hid the ceiling and a cheap carpet that covered the floor spoilt the otherwise artful interior. If he stayed here for more than a month he would change that carpet he decided, as he patrolled the perimeter of the flat, seeking any chink in the armour that now enclosed him. He eased back a tapestry to reveal the silver coated frame that held the panels of demon mirrors and ran a light finger along the seam, perfect. The shower and toilet looked rather bizarre, completely exposed mirrors on every surface, even the U bends had been replaced with silvered plumbing, those ancient Chinese knew a thing or two about deflecting evil spirits. The kitchen was sparse but here the mirrors hid behind panels of tiles and newly erected cupboards. He tapped the new double glazing units with his knuckle and heard that unique ring of Rijeka glass, almost as good as a demon mirror but with the added bonus of ‘shrieking’ when any demonic form tried to pass through it.
Finally he checked the bedroom where a four poster nearly filled the available floor space; this was no mere extravagance, it held the last lines of defence, drapes of silk and silver wire above, below and all around it.
He nodded with grim satisfaction, this would do.
He unpacked and showered before shrugging on a robe and getting a can of beer from the fridge, he would need to shop in a day or so, he was low on the staples.
“Here we go again Mesi.” He mused as he sat on the sofa facing the blank TV screen.
“Yes.” She murmured as she lay beside him, her head ‘resting’ on his leg.
He raised the remote and pointed it at the digibox, he had hours of backed up trash TV to bone up on before he could sleep tonight, essential camouflage in the social life of the lab.