Black Treacle Magazine (Issue 3) Read Free

“It gives us a chance to reconsider the wisdom
of our actions. Choose a different path.”
    “Fuck this,”
Marc says. “This is absolute fucking bollocks.”
    He fires
again.
    Zing
    “That's
three,” Elena says. “I know the whole demons, immortality, time
loop thing is a bit of a shock to the system, but come on. Try to
get with the programme. I might be technically immortal, but
getting shot in the face still stings.”
    Terry fumbles
his crate again, then drops onto all fours and throws up. Marc
pulls out his gun once more. This time, it shakes.
    “Marc,” Dom
says, holding up his hand. “Let's take a minute. Let's think about
this.”
    Marc glares at
him, but he puts the piece away.
    Dom faces
Elena. “What do you want?”
    “Finally,” she
says. “Progress. Well, I fancy being the bad guy for a while.
Change of scenery, you know? So I'm going to take over.”
    “What?”
    “Your gang,
your operation, whatever you call it. It's mine, now. You work for
me.”
    Marc shakes
his head. “Are you taking the fucking piss?”
    “See, I love
that. Such colourful turns of phrase, you have here. Are you taking
the fuckin' piss?” It comes out strange, in her weird accent.
“You'll have to teach me all of these.”
    “You're
mental. You're absolutely fucking mental.”
    She considers
this. “Very probably, by now. But hey, a girl's got to have a
hobby, right? Eternity is a long time, my friend. And there's only
so much sudoku you can do.”
    Marc lifts his
chin. “This is mine. This is all mine.”
    “I'm sure we
can come to a mutually suitable arrangement. There will always be a
place for highly motivated employees in my organisation.”
    “Employees?
You think I'm going to work for you? Fuck that.”
    Dom starts
forward. “Marc, wait. Don't--”
    Zing
    “Fuck,” Terry
says. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
     
    Elena smiles.
“Take four,” she says brightly.
    “Marc, enough
with the gun,” Dom says. He feels rough, now, sick and exhausted
like he's got a two-bottle hangover. “No more. It's not doing any
good, keep bringing us back to here.”
    “Smart boy,”
Elena says. “There's always a place for the intelligent ones,
too.”
    High spots of
colour are burning in Marc's cheeks. His eyes look sunken and
yellow. His fingers twitch, but he doesn't draw the gun. “All
right. All right.”
    There's a
pause. Dom and Terry both look at Elena.
    “Don't look at
her,” Marc says. “She's not in charge here.”
    Terry starts
edging towards the door. “Fucking stay where you are,” Marc says.
Terry freezes.
    “Time for
negotiations?” Elena says.
    Marc's head
drops for a second, then he lifts it again. “I will not have this.
I will not fucking have it.” He cracks his knuckles. “All right, we
can't kill her. Okay. But it doesn't mean we can't fuck her
up.”
    He nods
towards one of the metal chairs. “Tie her up there.”
    Dom doesn't
move. Nor does Terry.
    “Didn't you
hear me? I said, tie her up.”
    Terry takes a
step, one step, then stops.
    “Well? What's
the fucking matter with you?”
    Elena smiles.
“I think he's worried about what else I might be able to do. Isn't
that right, sugar?”
    Terry doesn't
speak, but he swallows hard.
    “After all, if
this is real--and I think we're all finally in agreement on that
point now--then what else might be?” She runs her tongue along the
edge of her teeth. “Vampires? Werewolves? What if all those
monsters under the bed are real? What if I can rip your throat out,
break your neck with my bare hands? What if I can set you on fire
with the power of my mind? Boil your brains in your skull with a
single thought? Is that what's worrying you, Terry dear?”
    She flings her
hand out towards him, fingers stiff and splayed. “Scorchio!”
    Terry
flinches, half-ducks, and his feet tangle together. He goes down,
hard.
    Elena throws
back her head and laughs. “Damn, but that one never gets old.”
    Marc grabs
hold of Terry's arm and hauls him to his