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John had tuned Chas mostly out less than ten minutes into the drive since it was a litany of complaints about his old woman and his footie team. John was more concerned about the date: Yule. What would this, the longest night, bring? Nothing good, he suspected. Good things rarely came his way and almost never from the darkness. Sister Anne Marie's ghost had been hanging around a lot lately. Just what he needed, a long night of the guilt of her death haunting him, edging him closer to the blackness himself.
"You still back there, mate?" Chas asked loudly.
John shook himself, realizing the car had stopped outside his flat and Chas had stopped talking. "Sorry, lots on my mind."
Chas grunted. "Know how that is."
John slid out of the car and handed Chas a wad of cash since he was flush and then some. "Have a nice holiday, mate."
Chas's face lit up. "This will help. Happy Christmas if I don't see you before then."
"Same to you."
John lit up as Chas's cab pulled away. Enjoying the bitter tobacco, he sauntered to his flat, in no real rush, not until he saw a light coming out from under the door. He knew he hadn't left the light one so what fresh hell was this? John opened the door – unlocked, another thing he knew he hadn't done - preparing a spell in his head if necessary. The cigarette dropped from his lips as he saw Marj and her daughter, Mercury on his broken-down couch.
Reining in a swear, he scooped the cigarette off the floor. "Marj! Mercury, now this is a surprise."
"Sorry, we let ourselves in," Marj said, flexing her sock-covered toes against a couch pillow. Mercury popped up and hugged him.
Letting themselves in was a euphemism since he knew she had to have picked the lock, and he was the one who taught her. Or was he? Maybe it was one of her fellow eco-warriors. Hell knew they broke into any number of places.
"It's nice to see you both. Is this a social call?" he asked, unable to completely relax, not quite trusting in anything good happening on this night.
"Mercury insisted," Marj waved a lazy hand toward her daughter.
John looked into the girl's eyes, which seemed far older than her tender years. He knew those eyes saw things they shouldn't, a cross most psychics bore. "Well I'm glad," he said bracing for bad news.
"Do you have any tea? I could put a pot on.” Marj got up, stretching. “I have a favor to ask."
"I should have some bags somewhere."
John finished his cigarette as Marj put the kettle on. He found a box of Typhoo but had no idea how old it was. Even had some sugar packets around. They sat on the couch, Marj resting against his shoulder drinking tea as if he entertained company all the time instead of being a miserably lonely bastard.
He listened to Marj going on and on about her latest project, coming the waterways to get all the plastic the hell out of it. At least that should be safer than some of the things she got herself into in her probably vain attempt to save the planet.
"So, want to pitch in?" Marj asked.
John blinked, not sure if she was really asking him to go pick garbage up around the shore.
"I know it's the holiday but we're going to be giving Mother Earth a gift."
Marj said that with such conviction, John knew she believed it whole heartedly. What the hell? He had nothing else to do, and maybe it would feel better than sitting around his flat waiting for the ghosts, waiting for hell to lick his heels again. "Sure, sounds like a good way to spend the holiday." Well, not really but again, beat sitting in the flat.
"Fantastic." Marj kissed him, chaste at first then deeper. Mercury rolled her eyes.
As Marj bounced off to find some bedding for the couch, presumably for Mercury because John suspected Marj planned on sharing his, Mercury sat next to him. She gave him a solemn look.
"Something big is coming," she said.
And that was the sound of the penny dropping. He sighed. "Have you seen what?"
Mercury shook her head. "Just the name Bifrons."
John made a face. That sounded vaguely familiar.
"He comes with the Spring."
He grunted. "At least I have time to prepare."
Mercury smiled. "That is why had Mom come."
"Thanks, kid."
John pushed the warning aside. It was a worry for another night. Tonight, he concentrated on the warm, loving women who had graced his doorstep. The ghosts didn't come. It might have been the longest night but this Yule John held on to the sliver of light he'd been given.