The Devil's Shadow

By BJ Edwards

In a vault beneath the Mediterranean Sea, a creature from myth and folklore sleeps. Government agents David Coswell and Hannah Martin join forces to find and study the creature with the hopes of harnessing its power for their country’s good. Accidentally, they release the creature and London is plunged into chaos. Lawlessness and hedonism spread as Lord of the Flies regains his strength and uses violence and fear to build his new kingdom.
David Coswell, along with his ‘handler’ Sentinel Nutbeam, retired soldier Nigel Carter, and Spanish matriarch Maria Perez help the Prime Minister confront the beast and take back control of a fractured country.
The Devil’s Shadow is a fast-paced supernatural thriller. Sometimes scary, sometimes sexy and always exciting, it is an absorbing tale of friendship, loyalty, faith and belief.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Mar 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9781528985550

BJ Edwards

With a childhood passion for archaeology, ancient history and mythology, BJ Edwards taught English before deciding to take up writing full time. He has published three novels, a collection of poems, and has written and directed a number of plays. Totally blind, he leads an active life, writing and training daily and regularly participating in sports. He now lives in the Midlands with his partner, collection of swords and their Labradors, Oliver and Sallie.

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About the Author

With a childhood passion for archaeology, ancient history and mythology, BJ Edwards taught English before deciding to take up writing full time. He has published three novels, a collection of poems, and has written and directed a number of plays. Totally blind, he leads an active life, writing and training daily and regularly participating in sports. He now lives in the Midlands with his partner, collection of swords and their Labradors, Oliver and Sallie.

Dedication

This book started life a few years ago. Stuff happened, things got in the way and it took me a long time to conjure up a satisfying conclusion. One that would give closure to the characters and leave me enough room to continue Coswell and Nutbeam’s journey. I want to dedicate this book to those happy few who have patiently borne my procrastination and indolence. I also want to dedicate this to anyone who finds endings difficult, not just to write, but to live and experience. Endings come in all shapes and sizes, the end of a book is just one.

Copyright Information ©

BJ Edwards (2021)

The right of BJ Edwards to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781528985543 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781528985550 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2021)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

25 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5LQ

Acknowledgement

A massive thanks to my partner in theatrical crime, Faye, and her friend Rachel for designing and creating such a fantastic cover. Talent is rare, I thank you both for it.

Part One

I destroy kings. I ally myself with foreign tyrants. And my own demons I set on to men, in order that the latter may believe in them and be lost. And the chosen servants of God, priests and faithful men, I excite unto desires for wicked sins, and evil heresies, and lawless deeds; and they obey me, and I bear them on to destruction. And I inspire men with envy, and desire for murder, and for wars and sodomy, and other evil things. And I will destroy the world.

From the Testament of Solomon, translated by FC Conybeare

Chapter 1

He swam out of sleep, senses dull, head thumping. He could barely breathe, the air’s tepid heat draining, the room swimming in and out of focus. He moved his arm and looked at his watch. It was late, already past noon. He glanced towards the window; the shutters mercilessly closed against the blazing sun. He yawned, sour breath tasting of last night. He tried to sit up but couldn’t. Then he realised that he was still pinned, her body damp with sweat, her hair trickling over his chest. Carefully he pushed her off, ignoring her small sounds of protest. Quietly he got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, splashed water into his face and went to his suitcase. He opened it and touched the sheaf of papers and photos that lay at the bottom. Satisfied that they were all still there, he dressed quickly and blinked into the sunlight.

Wakey-Wakey! he said cheerfully, placing a plate of melon, mango, orange and kiwi on the bedside table next to her.

Headache, she whispered groggily.

Have some Food.

Food?

Yes, fruit.

Thanks. She yawned, willing herself to wake-up.

My pleasure.

What time is it? she asked. Sitting up and taking a slice of melon.

Oh, around 12. He smiled.

Jesus! She sighed, pulling the sheet up to her chin.

You don’t have to cover-up on my account!

I don’t make a habit of waking-up naked in hotel rooms. I’m not like that.

Not like what?

You know, she blushed. One night-standy.

Neither am I! And, you’ll be pleased to know that absolutely nothing happened last night.

That’s a relief! She sighed. I should get dressed. Where are my clothes?

In a heap on the floor where you left them. He began to cut-up a kiwi.

What happened?

We met in a bar; we sampled the local wine – rather a lot of it if the hangover is anything to go by. We came back here… He glanced over at the table, surveying the empty glasses. You fell asleep.

Naked?

As the day you were born!

But how?

You really don’t remember? She shook her head mournfully.

No. I can’t even remember your name!

David.

I’m Hannah Martin.

I know! he laughed good naturedly.

I…I have such a headache! a tear formed at the corner of an eye.

Drink some water, you’ll feel better.

Thanks, she said, accepting a cool glass.

So, you’re from Manchester?

No, Leeds.

Postgraduate?

Yep. Just on holiday before I hit the books again.

That’s it! he clicked his fingers. You told me, that’s why I was attracted to you, you’re interested in the same things as I am.

History?

History, religion, anthropology, archaeology. All the things that make a civilisation tick.

I need a shower, I stink.

You’re welcome to use mine. Or you could just go for a refreshing swim. If you are very brave and get the angle just right, you could probably dive into the pool from the balcony. I wouldn’t like to risk it though.

I’ll pass on that.

Good call.

I have to go. Thanks for the fruit. She got out of bed; the sheet wrapped around her.

Wait Hannah, I want you to keep me company for a while, hang out, that sort of thing. She looked at him suspiciously. Let’s start this again. I enjoyed last night, but nothing happened. If, by the end of the day you are either drunk enough or sensible enough to find me attractive, I am sure we can do something about it. But for now, let’s just talk. Hannah stared, open mouthed.

You’re mad! she exclaimed.

But harmless!

Then remind me, how did I end up naked?

The air conditioning is broken, it was hot, you took your own clothes off.

This is too weird. I’m going to look for coffee.

You’re buying.

Excuse me? her eyes flashed.

Don’t you remember our little bet?

Ummm. She gazed into the glass as if scrying.

I bet that you could give me the name of any historical battle or siege, and I could tell you the date.

I remember. You won the bet and I had another glass of wine, then a cocktail.

More like a bottle of wine, but let’s not split hairs.

Just to be sure, the battle of Zama?

Good choice! he exclaimed. But easy. 202 BC.

Not sure I can give you that...

BCE!

Smart arse!

So, Hannah Martin from Leeds, are you a woman of your word?

I’ll be on the terrace with a cup of espresso. Thank your lucky stars you’re so handsome, and never, ever tell anybody about what did or didn’t happen last night. Okay?

Understood, David said, flashing her his most winning smile.

Now, let me get dressed!

I’ll be in the bathroom, shaving. If you need anything, give me a shout.

Platea?

479 BCE, he grinned.

Shit!

He watched her through the window; she took a seat at one of the round tables next to the swimming pool, a parasol concealing her. He could just make out one leg and shoulder, her head in shadow.

That’s her. He breathed, turning back on the air conditioning and relishing the gust of cool air. Definitely. He swallowed a segment of orange and put his mobile phone to his ear.

Chapter 2

How’s the coffee? David asked, smiling, and sitting opposite Hannah at the poolside table.

Fine, she said, her accent barely visible beneath the varnish of her Oxbridge education. I’m going as soon as I’ve drunk it, need a shower and change of clothes.

Back to your hostel? David raised an eyebrow and Hannah nodded. And what are you doing later?

Definitely Not drinking, that’s for sure!

Can I offer you dinner?

You’ve already seen me naked; it seems like we’re working backwards.

Well, this is coffee, so dinner would be the next step. We’ve already skipped lunch. He tried his smile, and it worked, she smiled in return, her eyes lighting-up.

Maybe. Depends on whether or not this hangover pisses off, and whether or not I find you interesting enough.

I see! David grinned boyishly, trying not to stare too hard at a woman by the pool who made a very obvious show of applying suntan lotion to her perfectly smooth and toned legs.

What did we talk about last night? Hannah asked, sipping.

The ancient world and its many wonders!

I doubt it!

Mesopotamia, David offered, trying hard to recall.

Really?

No. But we did talk about really interesting things! he laughed. You told me you were on a gap year, that you were researching your PhD thesis. We had a heated debate about trade routes, then got drunk!

Sorry. Hannah smiled, toying with her cup.

It’s fine. I drank just as much as you!

And what are you doing here, David? Hannah asked, the sunlight reflecting off the pool, a handful of German holiday makers playing volleyball, their trunks almost indecently brief.

Soaking up the sun, David replied, leaning back casually in his plastic chair. Staying here whilst my villa is being renovated.

I don’t believe you. She leaned towards him conspiratorially. I think you’re here on business.

I assure you; my visit is strictly pleasure. I’m opening a bookshop next week; wanted to get away, lull before the storm if you will, David said, trying to sound casual.

What sort of bookshop?

Oh, mainly history, politics, religion. Some new age titles, all non-fiction.

Sounds interesting.

You’re welcome to come and visit…

Maybe I will. She flashed him a smile.

Thanks for the drink last night, thanks for…well, it could have gone wrong. Anything could have happened.

Don’t mention it, I told you, I’m a gentleman.

I have to run, it’s late, Hannah said, gathering her handbag.

Okay, David said, offering his hand. She took it and squeezed it firmly. I look forward to seeing you at seven, he grinned.

That depends…

You wouldn’t refuse a crisp white wine and the best seafood on the island, would you?

See you later, Hannah said, suppressing a smile. She got up from the table, turned on her heel and walked away.

Carlos! The man who was clearing and cleaning the neighbouring table came to David’s side. How are you Carlos? David asked.

Very well. Business is good.

That is good news. David handed Carlos a handful of 100-euro notes. Carlos grinned and folded them into his pocket. He removed his apron and sat down.

The girl I was with, David began quietly.

Yes, very pretty, very nice.

I want you to follow her. Carlos nodded. Nothing fancy, just take a few discrete snaps and meet me on the beach in three hours. David handed Carlos a micro digital camera.

No problem, my brother can take over here.

Thank you, my friend, David said, gazing at a woman whose bikini left very little to the imagination.

Chapter 3

Late in the season, the hottest part of the day having been and gone, the beach was surprisingly quiet. The waves limped lethargically up the shore, the sun darting golden sparks off the less than impressive crests. The sand, pale yellow and the texture of sugar, the sky cloudless; cliffs framing the vista, a cluster of small houses clinging to them, a hotel seemingly built into the rock some mile or so away. David walked, his sandaled feet trampling the marks of holidaymaking children; semi-constructed sandcastles, the outline of a figure, the shape of a shell etched into the sand.

Hey! David smiled, extending his hand.

Mi amigo! Carlos beamed.

Everything Okay?

Like clockwork.

Let’s walk… David said, applying gentle pressure to the Spaniards’ elbow.

So, Carlos began. She goes to a hotel. Not cheap, not fancy, just…you know, regular. David nodded.

Did she meet anyone?

From there she took a taxi.

To where?

Luckily, I know the girl on reception, she’s a special friend… Carlos smiled wolfishly. She lends me her car.

Good work.

The girl, she went to the Pacassa, one of the most exclusive hotels on the island.

Not a hostel then, David mused.

I waited for maybe thirty minutes, then she came out, dressed nice, a fancy mobile to her ear. Tell me David, is this the girl you are looking for?

Yes, she is. She has the birthmark and the tattoo. Any more information Carlos?

Ummm, no. She was wearing it though.

Pardon?

Around her neck, she was wearing a silver fly.

David sighed heavily and gazed out to sea, to where a fang-like rock broke the golden perfection of the water.

Chapter 4

A Spanish guitarist played, his fingers nimble, his eyes soulful. He tried to make his music vibrant and throbbing, but it only seemed slightly melancholy to David.

When Hannah entered the restaurant, David was impressed, there was barely a hint of this morning’s woman. This Hannah looked poised and graceful in a bright and fitted dress, her make-up subtle, her long black hair in a neat French plait. David smiled at her and she was forced to smile back, a slight blush pinking her cheeks. Well trained, David got to his feet and pulled out a chair. Dutifully, Hannah sat down and noticed that the man sitting opposite her was really very handsome indeed.

So, she began, Tell me about your bookshop…?

First, tell me about your hostel, it sounds ghastly! he poured the white wine.

It isn’t too bad; I’ve stayed in worse. Six to a room, plain, Spartan but clean. Above all, it’s cheap!

Why holiday alone? Surely you have friends…?

I do have friends, but I wanted to come alone. I’ve done the eighteen to thirty thing to death; I’m getting too old for night clubs and one-night stands. She blushed and David raised a quizzical eyebrow.

Oh?

I mean… I was silly, anything could have happened. You could have…

We could have slept together.

Yeah, I suppose.

But we didn’t, so it’s fine, he smiled.

Tell me about your shop? It sounds intriguing. Hannah sipped.

My bookshop, David cleared his throat, his eyes roving over the menu. Well, it’s just something I’ve always wanted to do. I’ve always loved books so now I have the capital and time to invest, I thought I would indulge. Here. He handed her a laminated business card.

Coswell Books, she read. Rare and out of print editions of non-fiction titles. Archaeology, Anthropology, history, culture and the arts. 67-69 Sunset Place.

Come and visit next time you’re in town, David invited.

I shall, sounds just up my street! She smiled again and he noticed she wore a plain silver necklace with a tiny black stone at her throat.

They ate and drank, Hannah becoming more relaxed, the conversation as light and bubbly as the wine. Did you know, David tested the water. That just across the bay lies the remains of a temple? Hannah froze and the colour drained from her face. What’s wrong?

Nothing, just the oysters. Yes, so I’ve heard, no idea of its origin though. I’ve never seen it.

Fair enough. So, what are you researching?

Phoenician trade routes.

Sounds fascinating.

The med and Adriatic represent cultural melting pots. IF we could drain the seas, we’d find all sorts of wonderful artefacts linking cultures and belief systems.

Absolutely. David feigned disinterest. When do you fly home?

In a couple of days. You?

Tomorrow.

Pity, I was just beginning to like you.

Well, you could always come back to my hotel room and have sex with me…? She spat out a mouthful of wine, staining her napkin and snorting like a drowning beast. She raised a hand in surrender.

No! Stop it, you’re mad!

Are you sure?

Shut up! No, I’m not like that.

So why did you wake up naked in my bed?

I was…stupid, it was wrong, we’ve done that conversation, I don’t want to have sex with you, I’m busy.

Doing what?

Stuff! I need an early night, I have a headache, too much wine and sun.

Okay, David capitulated. Just a thought. Maybe if I give you a discount code for my shop it would turn your loins to honey!

That’s enough, I’m going, I have a taxi booked. You’re paying, I’ll be in touch.

Good, my number’s on the back of the card. What are you doing tomorrow?

Sleeping in.

Okay. Goodnight. She planted a kiss on his cheek, gathered her clutch bag and left.

Chapter 5

The boat lay just above the high-water mark, a small fishing boat, identical to hundreds of other such vessels that plied their trade in the vicinity. The sea crackled with silver moonlight; the sky pierced with stars. A figure crunched down the beach, slim and feminine in jeans and T-shirt. She greeted the man who waited near the boat, offering him her cheek. How are you? Hannah asked.

Good, the sea is calm. You ready, senorita? the senorita nodded.

Yes Carlos, let’s go.

Chapter 6

So Carlos, did you see her last night?

Yes, Carlos said, wiping froth from his upper lip, his beer bottle nearly empty. She left your restaurant and went back to her hotel.

Nothing else?

Not a dickie bird as you say.

Okay. Where is she now?

Ummm, Carlos glanced at his watch. Maybe packing.

Fine. Thanks Carlos. David passed him a pile of bank notes that disappeared somewhere into his grease stained shirt.

What you doing today? Carlos asked, his eyes roving over a slim, blond woman who was carrying a beach ball towards the pool.

Home again, home again jig-a-jig-jig.

What? Carlos looked at David as if he had just escaped a padded cell.

Going home.

You come back next year?

Maybe sooner.

Good, I like your money. Carlos got to his feet and strolled towards the poolside bar without a backward glance.

The bookshop was in a converted Victorian terrace in the fashionable end of town. Hanging baskets resplendent with bright blooms hung from either side of the doorway, and the building was cool and oak panelled inside. Book crammed shelves spanned the walls in an ordered clutter. Most titles sombre, dark bound volumes, other, more modern offerings displayed a riot of colourful spines, their soft covers glossy. A young woman scanned a shelf, the tip of her tongue thrust between neat white teeth in an attitude of concentration. In another isle, a middle-aged man opened a book and scanned the contents page. In the corner a young, effeminate looking gentleman sat on a wooden chair, reading with wrapped interest a hardback. David stood behind the counter, smiling at the woman, and hoping that custom would pick up. As if his thought summoned them, the door opened and a bevy of three came in, chatting excitedly. He watched them covertly and decided that they were probably just browsers and would more than likely go straight home and raid Amazon.

The gentleman with the hardback walked towards the counter and placed the book on it. ‘Demonology and the philosophy of the ancient sects’. The title read. David smiled, nodded and the gentleman turned the pages until a slip of paper fluttered out. With a flourish, the effeminate gentleman folded the paper, and offered it to David. With sleight of hand, David slid it into his shirt pocket. The customer paid, tucked the book in his leather backpack and left the shop.

It was late. David stood in his empty shop, the end of the first day of trading. He was about to key in the alarm code and lock up when his mobile buzzed quietly in his pocket. Tutting, and ignoring the alarm’s blinking green LED, he answered the phone.

David, he began curtly. Yes I got the message. Yes, fine. He disconnected the call and took the paper out of his pocket. Glancing at the address, and at his watch, he set the burglar alarm and walked into the balmy evening.

Hannah stood in the darkness, the moon barely casting its spell, the church, tall and dark looming over her. She looked at her watch’s aluminous hands and sat on an old wooden bench, the gravestones barely visible, the trees swaying in the breeze. Sighing, and slightly cold, she hugged herself and wished she had worn a warmer top.

She smelled him before he spoke – the slightly musty odour of old tobacco mixed with expensive aftershave. He was a deeper shadow in the gloom, a patch of darkness that seemed to detach itself from the trunk of a Rowan tree and come towards her. The bench gave a little as he sat down, and for quite some time he did not say a word.

Hannah, he breathed at last, his voice accent-less, low and husky. Hannah nodded.

I got your message, she offered. It came in the form of an e-mail. It had no address, no signature, just a list of instructions. She could neither reply to it nor save it. It remained in her inbox for an hour before disappearing into the vastness of the cyber-void.

You kept us up to date, for that we are grateful, thank you. She didn’t respond. To recap, you have made meaningful contact with the mark?

Absolutely, yes.

You are sure he doesn’t suspect you?

As sure as I can be.

You are aware that he has certain pieces of information we require?

I am aware of what is expected of me, and I will gather the information.

We are on the brink of something magnificent, do not disappoint us.

I won’t, I want this as much as anyone.

That’s good. Keep up the good work and carry on. I will make sure you are mentioned favourably in my report.

Thank you, Mr Poleson.

But we mustn’t let the cat out of the bag, not yet, the public would…well, it doesn’t bare thinking about. Hysteria, religious unrest and social disorder.

I understand.

But you must fulfil your remit and gain information.

Of course.

Good, very good. I shall wish you a good evening Hannah. And, for future reference, he turned to her, and Hannah thought she saw something sparkle, a glint of silver at his throat. She shook her head, dismissing it as a trick of the light, but secretly hoping that a man of Poleson’s standing was a believer just like her. It’s sir, not Mr. With a swish of trench coat he stepped into