The Promptuary Read online

  The personnel at Barcelona's El Prat International Airport had rotated their positions so many times nobody knew exactly what they should be doing anymore. Their automatic pilots had kicked in.

  The guy staring at the infrared screen could no longer tell what shade of grey he was looking at. Or what shape corresponded to what common everyday object. Was that a legless Barbie doll or an Uzi? Was that bottle of shampoo under, or over, the legal limit? Was that an electric toothbrush or an implement for sexual gratification? How many books was this person really going to read on their holiday and why hadn't they been introduced to a lightweight electronic alternative? How much dehydrated soup did a person really need? Wait, a potato peeler?

  He held up his hand and his supervisor came to inspect if it was a weapon of mass destruction. The supervisor squinted at the screen and decide to err on the side of caution. Anything was better than being responsible for letting the wrong passenger through. Especially one who had the potential to bore a blunt kitchen utensil into someone's jugular. The risk outweighed the inconvenience, even if it meant sorting through a bag full of three-day-old socks.

  The woman manning the electronic body sweeper had forgotten to refresh the batteries. She waved the device up and down a passenger's body and it bleeped feebly. The bulge in his pants certainly looked dangerous. She swept him again and decided not to investigate further. It was not the first time that day she had inadvertently groped something which she preferred she had not. She waved him through. She turned her attention to the walk-through metal detector and waited for the next passenger. She placed a hand on her hip, absentmindedly picked something out of her teeth, cast her arm over her shoulder and scratched a hard-to-reach spot on her spine with the wand. Her nicotine levels were borderline.

  Anaïs assessed her shades. They had no luggage and were not wearing coats so they should be fine. She crossed her fingers and hoped that neither of them would be required to take off their shoes. Marilyn had found a way to manipulate her camouflage but Anaïs was unsure if she could actually take anything off. Her stilettos could cause a problem, not to mention those Immi was wearing. The librarian would not be a problem. She could remove clothing. She could also respond to the directives issued by the guards. The shades could not.

  Anaïs went first. She strolled as nonchalantly as possible through the full-body metal detector. It beeped and a light shone halfway up the display on its rim. The woman with the wand waved the instrument at Anaïs and shooed her back through the machine.

  'Take off your hat, please!' commanded the woman brusquely.

  Anaïs did as she was told. The woman's curt tone irritated her but she thought better of making a scene. They had to get through with as little fuss as possible. She stepped back through the detector and placed her beret in the plastic container provided. She watched it being fed along the rollers and felt a twinge of apprehension as it disappeared into the scanner. All her earthly possessions were in it, including the promptuary. Could they see through it? She watched the face of the man studying the screen. It lit up his bored countenance. He stared vacantly at the x-ray images. His supervisor prodded him and his eyes came back to life and zipped over the screen.

  The woman with the wand bent forward. Resting her hands on her thighs she narrowed her eyes and looked through the metal detector at the little witch. She beckoned Anaïs towards her. 'Come on,' she said impatiently. She cast an eye on the clock on the wall and cursed under her breath. She needed a break. Where was her replacement?

  Anaïs stepped back into the detector and was ushered through to the other side. There were no telltale beeps or buzzes. The woman swept her up and down with the wand and sent her to get her stuff. Her attention turned to the others in their motley crew. Nan went first. There was no reaction from the full-body detector. The lights on the leading edge of the machine which should have turned green, failed to register. This was not surprising as there was nothing physical to detect. The woman stepped forward and thumped the side of the detector. She twirled her finger, indicating that Nan should walk through again. She obliged. Again there was no response.

  The woman huffed in exasperation and swept the shade with her wand. There was no reaction from the implement.

  'Grandma?' Anaïs called out to her caretaker. 'Can you help me with my hat?'

  The guard looked first at the little witch and then back at Nan. She decided the older woman was harmless and flicked her thumb, indicating the caretaker was free to go. She turned to scan her next victim. Her eyes widened at the sight of Marilyn. She cleared her throat.

  'This way please,' she said with her voice cracking.

  The security guard had met all sorts in her job but never something like this. A bearded woman, in a pin-striped suit wearing stilettos and heavy make-up, was not something she had to deal with on a daily basis. She did her best to conceal her surprise and maintain an ingenuous attitude. She failed dismally. She bit her lower lip in an effort to control her facial expressions. Her face quivered with the effort.

  The shade stepped through the detector. This time there was a reaction from the machine. A red light shone on the side console midway up the shade's body. Anaïs guessed the compact in Marilyn's jacket had set it off. The guard opened her mouth to direct Marilyn back through the apparatus but was interrupted.

  'Miss Wurst,' said Sojourner Pink. 'I've been looking for you everywhere.'

  The witch stepped between the guard and Marilyn. Sojourner was still in possession of the hostess's body and assumed the air of someone going about her everyday business. The guard eyed her quizzically.

  'Excuse me, we have an honoured guest,' said Sojourner. 'Do you mind?'

  The guard was mildly affronted but decided against any action. She shook her head silently. She was unsure how to deal with such a strange personage anyway and secretly pleased she would not have to.

  'It's … Ahem, she is all yours,' said the guard. She sniffed and cleared her throat again.

  'Thank you for your co-operation,' said Sojourner. She waved her hand towards an electric airport baggage car. 'This way, madam.'

  Marilyn obliged and walked across to the vehicle, her heels clicking loudly on the tiled floor. The guard followed her movement with a mixture of incredulity and amusement. Sojourner thanked the guard once more and followed the shade.

  They all piled into the little electric car and waited for the librarian. Their progress was further slowed by her. Immi was sent through the detector several times and gradually forced to strip to her bare essentials. In due course she was passed, but was then asked to empty her oversized handbag of all its contents.

  Eventually, Immi was cleared. She donned her clothing, stuffed her belongings back into her handbag and shuffled across to the car.

  Sojourner tapped her fingers on the baggage car's steering wheel. She furrowed her brow and scowled at her daughter. 'Hurry up and get in. We will miss the flight.'

  Take Off

  Anaïs had chosen to sit between the two shades. She couldn't rely on the librarian to cover for them in the event pertinent questions were asked. She had wrapped herself as snuggly as possible. Low cost airlines don't have the benefit of ample leg room or broad seats. People practically sit on top of one another and are crammed in like the proverbial sardines in a can. Even though Anaïs was small she was still forced to rub shoulders with her shades.

  It was very uncomfortable. She was freezing. Anaïs stood on her seat and opened the air-conditioning jets on the console above her. She directed all three of them down on her seat. She could put up with the wind as long as it could regulate the temperature. The air-conditioning was not working. Even though it was warmer than the shades, it barely cut through the deathly cold. She made a mental note to ask Sojourner if there was any way she could provide herself with some protection against it. She expected her promptuary could tell her, if she could get it fixed. The other option was to ask the Organisation or send a message to the Apothecary. But, again, she would nee
d a fully operational promptuary. It would have to wait. There was nothing she could do about it now except grin and bear it. This was literally what she was doing. She clamped her teeth together in order to stop them chattering.

  'Guys, I'm really cold,' said Anaïs through her teeth. 'Do you think you could give me a little bit more room.'

  Both shades leaned away from her but were restricted by their seats. Anaïs checked if any of the other passengers were watching and then took off her beret and felt around inside. She pulled out a pair of purple mittens and a scarf. She then stuck her hand back in the beret and searched around inside. She noticed Marilyn watching her with wide eyes.

  'What are you doing?'

  'I'm cold,' said Anaïs.

  'I meant, what's with your arm?'

  Anaïs had reached so deeply her arm had disappeared all the way up to her shoulder. 'Oh this? It's where I keep all my stuff.'

  'Handy,' said Marilyn. 'But how do you find anything in it?'

  'I just focus. Usually whatever it is jumps into my hand.'

  'Unless your mind wanders and you end up with a half-eaten chicken burger,' quipped Nan.

  'That's only happened once,' said Anaïs with indignation. 'I don't put food in there anymore.'

  'I know,' said Nan. 'I was just winding you up.'

  Anaïs frowned at the shade. Marilyn cocked her head, not having understood what the little witch was talking about.

  'Got it!' Anaïs exclaimed, grinning with delight. She extracted her arm and the fur-lined collar of a jacket appeared clenched in her fist. She set the beret on the floor between her feet and stood on the edges of it. She grunted and wrenched at the jacket. She bit her lip and pulled with all her might. After a struggle a heavily padded winter anorak emerged through the small opening. Marilyn's eyes widened even further.

  Anaïs put on the coat, scarf and mittens. It helped but she still felt the frosty aura of the shades seeping through. As soon as the plane took off she decided she would get up and walk around. If possible, for most of the flight. There was no way she could put up with the cold for an extended period. She was relatively certain they wouldn't be bothered much. The airline would only give away the bare minimum and if you wanted anything more than a cup of coffee you would be charged extra. Low cost flying does not come without a price.

  Anaïs reached over and clicked in the shades’ seat belts before doing up her own. The airliner trundled across the apron away from the terminal and out onto a taxiway. They coasted along for some time before being stuck waiting in a long queue of aircraft. Presently the other planes before them took off. The plane moved onto the main runway and positioned itself for take-off.

  Anaïs wondered if Sojourner would be there to meet them when they arrived at their destination. She had not been able to board with them and said she would join them later. She could not use the air hostess's body for too long. It was not beyond her magical capabilities. Although possession did require an enormous amount of energy there were other problems. A host could not survive for very long in stasis. It was detrimental to their health for one thing. Dumping one in a foreign country with no idea where they were was also not considered kosher. Procuring a suitable new host would take time.

  The engines began to roar and Anaïs felt the vibrations running through the entire aircraft. She felt her hand suddenly plummet in temperature. She looked down. Marilyn had taken a firm grip of it and squeezed her little hand. Even the mitten could not provide much protection. Anaïs looked up at the shade's face. Without her sunglasses, and even through the camouflage, Anaïs could see the fear in the shade's eyes.

  'What's wrong? Are you ok?'

  'No not really.' Marilyn shook her head. 'It's been a while since I've flown. When I last travelled jet airliners were relatively new. Also, I've been looking up. The sky seems to be full of them. Is it safe?'

  'So they say. Safer than driving is what they like to remind you.'

  'Yes, I've heard that before. It still doesn't instil me with much confidence. I'd rather stay on the ground.'

  'A bit late now,' said Anaïs. 'And you're dead. What is there to be afraid of anyway?'

  Before the shade could answer they were both pressed into their seats. Marilyn squeezed her hand even harder and let out a long scream. Thankfully none of the other passengers could hear it. Anaïs could and wrapped her free arm around her head. It didn't help.

  Great! Another journey with some idiot. Anaïs thought, glancing over at the librarian seated across the aisle. Please stop!

  Turbine Torture

  The aircraft was buffeted by crosswinds as it rumbled to the end of the tarmac. It lifted off. Once it gained some elevation it dipped its wings. As it banked sharply, Anaïs had a clear view of the airport through the window. She choked on her breath.

  Beneath her she could make out a dark figure standing in the open on the terminal's apron. It wasn't alone. Beside it was another four-legged shadow—a huge dog. Even from where she was, Anaïs could clearly see the animal tugging on its invisible chain.

  The aircraft slowly circled the airport. In the minute or so it took to do this Anaïs watched in fascination as a curious exchange took place.

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  The Inquisitor watched the plane turn and follow the perimeter of the airfield. He pivoted his body, following the movement of the aircraft, and considered his options. He could bring it down if he was quick. It was risky, but if he let it go he would have to start all over again. It would only delay the inevitable. He would get them but he was tired of all the chasing. He was losing his patience. He was irritated.

  It had taken quite some time to extract himself from his paper prison. He could still taste the dust in his mouth. He smacked his lips. There was also the pasty hint of poster glue on his palate. Worst of all he stank. He was actually far beyond irritated. He was plain pissed off.

  He slipped his free hand into the inside pocket of his coat and extracted his book. Let's see if this works. He clutched the hound's chain tighter in his hand and adjusted his grip. The dog yanked at its invisible leash and in turn at his arm. He glared at it in frustration.

  'Still!' he yelled at the hound.

  The animal looked up at him. Its red eyes flared. It whined and reluctantly stopped straining on its bindings. The claws of one enormous paw scratched impatiently at the asphalt. The Inquisitor looked up at the clouds. He shut out the sound of the dog. He straightened his free arm and held the book above his head. He stared at it and breathed in deeply through his nostrils. They twitched, detecting his own putrid odour and that of the dog. He slowly dropped his arm and aimed it at the circling aircraft.

  He closed his eyes and whispered to himself. Focus.

  Then it hit him, a force from behind. It lifted him up and sent him flying forwards. He would have been blown further had it not been for the chain in his hand. The leash snapped taut. The dog anchored him to the ground. The arm attached to the chain became an extension of it. He heard his shoulder pop. He snapped his teeth together. His entire body whipped around, rotating on the joint. He smacked the ground hard, landing outstretched and spread-eagled full on his face. It took the wind out of him. He groaned and pulled his free arm under his body. He shook his head to clear it and tried to force air back into his lungs. He panted. He used his arm to lever himself off the ground and scrabbled onto his hands and knees.

  There was another blast of wind. This one was not directed at him but he felt its strong current flow over him. He snapped his eyes open and watched with fascination as a collection of loose stones lifted into the air before him. They were not alone. A short distance away the hound also became airborne. It flew towards him and he ducked as it soared over his head. As it passed over his body his shoulder was wrenched again. This time he cried out in agony. Once again his arm followed the leash. The force flipped him onto his back. The rest of him went with his damaged limb, dragged along the tarmac behind the hound. He sciss
ored his legs and flipped himself back onto his stomach. He pulled up his knees and tried to slow himself. The rough surface of the runway cut through his thick trousers. The excruciating pain caused him to involuntarily drop the book and let his legs fall behind him.

  The animal found purchase with its claws and halted its own movement. The Inquisitor continued sliding towards it. He twisted his body and tumbled until the solid legs of the hound stopped him. He came to a sudden halt under its muzzle. The dog drooled hot saliva. It dripped on his face and seared into his skin. Had it not been for this he may have passed out from the throbbing pain from his shoulder and damaged knees.

  He shook his head, wiped his face with his sleeve and glanced around desperately. He found what he was looking for. He clawed at the ground and pulled himself towards it. He slapped his free hand down on the book. He wrapped his fingers around its spine and pulled it to his chest. Arching his neck, he looked further afield. His heart sank. There it was again.

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  Anaïs's heart was beating fast. She had watched him fly through the air and come crashing down on the tarmac. It looked painful. The hound had flown over him and she had watched it turn itself in midair, almost cat-like, and land on all fours. It slid a few metres along the ground, dragging the Inquisitor with it, and stopped. The man's body went from sliding to rolling before colliding with the animal. She watched his head lift. He grappled for the object he had dropped. Then he froze, looking at something on the far side of the apron. She followed his gaze.