Chapter Seven

Marie Westley had been a charwoman in the museum for years. A squat woman with a bust that seemed to strain out of even the largest blouse she was a common sight at all hours. Both staff and visitors alike were always offered a greeting and a sparkling smile.

She was handsome in her own way, keeping a neat appearance, her nut-brown hair always tied without a strand out of place and her hazel eyes always shimmering even if given the most taxing job.

Professional pride went a long way in her family, whatever the task and whatever the employment.

Of Jamaican descent her dream was eventually to become a teacher, her grades had well excelled the needed scores to qualify but they cost.

People had told her she could do more, that was wasting her knowledge for a job that didn't pay as well as others but the fact was, apart from children, she loved cleaning and helping the elderly who couldn't do it themselves.

That day she had been up since dawn. The basement was always in need of a decent scale and polish, to use her father's terms, when a new shipment arrived.

The thumps and sounds of heavy rain had given her pause to look up. The basement had no windows, lit only by a naked bulb suspended on a decaying wire. Moisture often seeped through the old brickwork but in the dark it was impossible to make out the bloody hue. Even if she had, she would have dismissed it as a stain from the stone.

It was only the screams of both the sirens and the people that the broom dropped from her hands and she raced up.

She blinked rapidly, mind working overtime to try and process the situation.

Red fluid trickled in rivers down the crystal windows, seeping through, rich and thick, from the panes broken under its wrath.

The sky heaved, black clouds billowing fiercely as shadowy objects teemed downward. Even the most rational mind, and she liked to think she had one, could not find a logical explanation.

She could already hear Franklin Graham blaming it on homosexuals or single parents, condemning the acceptance people offered to others.

"M-Marie?"

A choked voice called out from near a smashed exhibit, the protective screen trod into a fine, sharp dust as others had ran past, ignorant of the figure that had lain there.

"Mr Montford?"

Her words died as he hauled himself forward, using the leg of a broken mannequin as a makeshift walking stick.

Sticky blood clung to his torn face, emitting a sickening copper smell. Bruises littered his body, mostly hidden beneath his clothing but those that showed were bold.

"What on earth happened?" Her low heels clattered as she ran over, quickly whipping out her handkerchief to press on the tattered cheek.

He hissed as the fabric rubbed the flaked skin, sucking the moisture from the wound. He resisted slapping her hand away, taking the pain in hopes of minimising it later.

"It's a long story," Mr Montford wheezed "well, not so much long but rather fantastic, I don't think you'd believe it."

"Try me," Marie retorted "I wouldn't have believed blood and frogs could rain from the sky but that's happening, isn't it?"

Mr Montford nodded. She had a good point but even he was struggling to believe the events that were occurring. It was like a nightmare that he was powerless to wake from, the dark incubus holding his throat until daybreak drove it away.

"It started this morning, just another normal shipment."

Marie listened. Her eyes widening in disbelief as he narrated the tale that had led to this and Isaac's disappearance, his voice getting higher and faster the further he went until he was practically screeching.

"...That's the worst part! I don't know why that beast wants him but I'll never forgive myself if he is killed!" He turned away, wringing his hands on the makeshift crutch. "I don't think I'll forgive myself for the havoc out there, all the death! I should have put it in a cabinet with without messing about!"

"Why would it take Isaac?" Marie asked, feeling stupid as soon as the words left her lips.

"Blowed if I know!" Mr Montford sucked in a hard breath. "Maybe because he was the one to break it? If I knew I might have been able to have done something!"

His breathing was becoming swifter as his heart felt as if it wanted to fly from his chest, a painful, tight sensation gripped his throat.

"I don't-don't know where Ash is either!"

Marie moved over, clutching his shoulder tightly. "Calm down," she spoke slowly, meeting his gaze evenly. "You're going to give yourself a seizure or a heart attack and you're needed."

"All this," Mr Montfort seemed not to hear her as he threw an arm out "it was myth! Tales and words that had as much truth in them as the earth being flat!"

Marie shook him lightly, her eyes studying the wound. "You're getting hysterical, you need medical treatment and we both need to get out of here."

The rain had passed her ankles, bubbling erubescent fluid clung at her calves as it ebbed and flowed. Her once pristine stockings now looked as if she had walked through briars, the thorns tearing her skin open.

She looped her arm though the others own and pulled him forward, the thickness making it feel like she was wading through warm molasses.

"We can head upstairs," she said, allowing no time for argument. "The nurses’ station is up there as well so I can see if I can clean you up. God bless my parents for making me join the Brownies, I did well in first aid."

Mr Montford grumbled, allowing the mannequin joint to slip from his grasp where it floated away to the shadows.

"Ash is sensible when he needs to be," Marie said in an attempt to reassure him, bearing his weight well. "He'll be fine."

They waded to the main entrance. Marie found in hard not to blanch at the grotesque sight of debris through the glass doors, the stench of copper overpowering. The rain, however, had ceased, halting when a violent rumble of thunder shook the sky.

Several of the frogs had made their way in, their bodies slick with blood as they clambered onto the ruin exhibits, croaking truculently.

"You're going to have to grit your teeth," she said as they approached the grand staircase that led upwards. "I can't exactly take you in the elevator, even if it was working, I don't think it would be a wise idea."

Pain was taking over the man's body but he nodded stoically, gripping the rail so hard his knuckles became white. His gaze focused on the final steps, ignoring the searing pain in his face, made worse by the dried blood with seemed to pull of the ragged skin. 

He fell awkwardly as he reached that final stair, panting harshly against the cold tiles beneath him. The chill clung to him, penetrating into his clothes and into his skin like a wash of icy water. He screwed his eyes shut against the blinding stings, only vaguely feeling Marie's hand on his shoulder, her words jumbled with the static in his ears.

"Mr Monford? Marie?"

The names rang clear and he lifted his head, making out a figure that his vision distorted. Yet it was familiar, even without proper sight he knew that khaki jumper.

"Ash, thank God," he sighed, pulling himself up and against the wall. He paused to push the non-existent glasses up, frowning when he remembered they were smashed to smithereens with below. "You should have run though."

"Where?" Ash moved to his side, motioning down to the door. "It's complete chaos out there, I'm safer here and I-," he paused as his encounter was about to spill from his lips.

"What?" Marie canted her head. "Whatever it is you ought to tell him, you can fill me in later if need be. Right now, the main thing is getting those injuries treated."

She brushed past him, the sound of her loafers padding away loud in the quiet. Ash looked at his employer and swallowed.

"I suppose it’s no less strange than what's already going on," he mused, his eyes drifting to where a frog was climbing the stairs. "Maybe it'll even give you some comfort that the other...Gods, are aware of what happened?"

He felt Mr Montford stiffen, his eyes widening. 

"Go on," he urged, feeling life awaken anew inside him. "Who was it? What was it? Just tell me, Ash!"

He felt almost childish again. Remembering his games at school and the glorious fantasies and tales he had played out in the garden. Deep down, even then, he knew that such things were trifles and not reality but there was always that little spark then, that hope that just maybe, maybe life did hold a touch of magical mystery.

It had long faded in adulthood but now here it was again. And it was not just hope, it was factual.

"Am Heh," he nodded studiously as Ash wound up his encounter his Shu, knowing the God just by description. "I have heard a small mention but nothing is known about him as such, all that is known..."

He trailed off for a moment as Marie's shoes squeaked back, her arms clutching a small first aid box. Lord, he hoped there wasn't iodine in there.

"All that is known is he is unstoppable," his voice hissed so as not to alarm her, her concentration was needed on aid for the time being. "Only Atum himself had any power over him, no other scripture gives any tales. As if he was written out of history."

Outside the sky ruptured in a fantastical display of lightening and smoke trickled down from burning clouds, weaving down between the building, sparks blinding in the grey. A stronger odour began to emanate from somewhere, as if the blood below had begun to boil.