jashyr: skull (horror)
[personal profile] jashyr
Title: You Don't Have to be Crazy Dead to Work Here (But It Helps).
Part: 21/22
Author: Jashyr
Genre: Horror/Black Comedy
Word Count: 50,000
Disclaimer: These characters are mine. They live in my head and make me do crazy things like entering NaNoWriMo...
Rating: PG-13? Probably.
Warnings: Some gore. Written for NaNoWriMo last year and while it has been re-edited the punctuation police are still looking at it suspiciously.

Chapter Twenty One

Payback Is A Bitch

In the hours that followed the massacre of Holt Facilities Management Grace stalked the halls of Reapmore’s main offices looking for someone to blame for the catastrophe. As soon as the unbound souls of the former unwilling zombies had turned up in the afterlife as number of Mediums had become aware of the whole debacle and news of the affair had spread like wildfire through the supernatural business community. ASMAA, the Association of Symbolic Magicians, Alchemists and Accountants, had rescinded the loan to Reapmore that had originally paid for the Holt FM takeover and with that money gone Reapmore was floundering. Their main business of mortuary equipment had also taken a nosedive. Nearly all mystically aware funerary parlours with contracts with Reapmore had lodged complaints now that the disrespect for the souls of the Holt employees had come to light. Grace’s beloved pride and joy was haemorrhaging cash and she was being forced into letting ASMAA come in and send in a team of auditors, simply so she could salvage some dignity amongst her workforce.

Thus it was that with a great flourish Scott Miller, her trusted head of security, dragged James Holt and Ricardo Perez into her office in chains on the Saturday morning. The day was looking up already. With a wide smile that seemed to light up the room she regarded Scott fondly. “How ever did you track down these little corporate traitors? My scrying couldn’t find either of them!”

Scott blushed slightly and bowed his head under the force of her gaze. “Scrying isn’t everything ma’am. One of my security details had been liaising with the police over the matter of a stolen Reapmore vehicle. The police picked them up at Burtonwood service station on their way down the M62. Turns out they’d booked tickets to the Isle on Man. Tried for the protection of Mannanan Mac Lir. It was a good job we stopped them before they got to the docks.”

“Scott, you’re a genius. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’ll put in a good word with the shareholders for your team, they’ll always have a place for people of their calibre. Make sure you inform your staff that their jobs are secure. They deserve their peace of mind.”

Miller held up the chains that bound the two men who were shaking in fear. “What shall I do with these two?”

Grace looked over to the two bound men, her anger building. “Take them down to the sub-basement,” she ordered. Perez’s eyes widened. “I’m going to throw them upon the mercy of the shareholders.”

“Very well ma’am.” Even Scott seemed a little shaken at this but he dragged the two screaming men behind him as he exited the office, moving towards the lifts.

Picking up her desk phone Grace hit the speed dial and without waiting for a response barked, “Roy, meet me downstairs, the proper downstairs. I’m calling a shareholder meeting.” Picking up the Mayan obsidian dagger that she had been using as a paperweight, she swung it gently to ascertain its balance and sharpness. “This will do nicely,” she murmured and walked purposefully out the door.

****
 
Arriving in the sumptuously decorated sub-basement Roy could hear the sound of muffled screams coming from the sacrificial chamber. Pushing the large, ornate mahogany double doors open he was confronted with the sight of James Holt chained to the main altar by each limb while a bound Dr Perez was curled up in a corner practically catatonic.

He closed the doors and walked in, spying Grace by the side of the altar, flicking through a number of scrolls he didn’t recognize. “So you found them, then?”

“Scott did,” replied Grace without even looking up. “His contacts within the police turned out to be far handier than I’d ever expected. They were trying for sanctuary with the Milesians. No wonder the Isle of Man has such good tax breaks.”

“So,” he started nervously, “the shareholders. Are you really going to bring them down here?”

“No, of course not,” Grace finally looked up and smiled at him. “We’ve not really got the climate for them to be comfortable and I wouldn’t want to upset them. I’m going to send these two to them. As a ‘please don’t wreck my company’ present.”

In the corner Perez started to futilely thrash against his bonds and scream against the gag.

“I don’t think he likes that situation,” remarked Roy, slightly more at ease with the plan.

“He’s going to like it even less once I’ve ripped his heart out.” Grace held up the obsidian knife, “I’ve got to say that this does have a wonderful heft to it.”

“I thought you’d like,” noted Roy, moving around the other side of the altar and taking the scroll from her so she could read it while wielding the dagger with both hands.
 
Swinging the dagger up, Grace turned to face the golden, gem encrusted, three-headed lion-demon statue in the middle of the north wall. Her eyes rolled up into the back of her head as she intoned in Ancient Sumerian “take this life, this soul, in offering. Let my soul remain mine to do my bidding. Instruct me again, without this shame being mine. This goat takes my blame. I am pure again.” Desperately struggling against his bonds on the altar, all James heard was “gid na zi tu ila, na ur har, isis kur she. He da ul ur har gu ki gu de aka in eme mu. A mu ga in ga in nu a she su ga dub. Na bi uz dib te as mu, ga e me en in ga sikil. Sikil ga in en me e ga, mu as te dib uz bi na. Dub ga su she a nu in ga in ga mu a. Mu eme in aka de gu ki gu har ur ul da he. She kur isis, har ur na, ila tu zi na gid.”

The knife descended in a practiced motion into James’ chest. He felt a sudden stab of pain then felt himself rising into the air. He could see his own body, bleeding below him. In front of him a large paw extended from the statue to swipe at him as Grace continued. “Take this enemy to do as you wish. Burn him, cut him, poison him. He is my enemy and yours. He is my friend no longer.Uz ig lu erim sa ni na me rig he am me am. Gu bil lu erim, igi ze ze lu erim, gur ru ush lu erim bir. E ne am lu erim. E ne am lu su na a. A na su lu am ne e. Erim lu am ne e. Bir erim lu ush ru gur, erim lu ze ze igi, erim lu bil gu. Am me am he rig me na ni sa erim lu ig uz.”

A shining light engulfed James and both his body and spirit disappeared.

“Well, that went well,” said Roy, brightly.

Putting down the knife and dabbing at the spots of blood that had splattered on her silk shirt, Grace nodded. “I reckon we don’t hedge our bets.” Her eyes narrowing she nodded towards Dr Perez. “Bring Ricardo over here. I think might need a bit more practice with the knife to fully smooth things over.”

Knowing there was no escape and fully aware of what awaited Reapmore’s traitors in the afterlife Ricardo Perez passed out as Roy stalked towards him, the last thing he would see being Grace Charles’ look of complete distain towards him as she daintily cleaned the knife.
 
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Jashyr

September 2010

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