FOUR
“Just over twenty thousand, boss.” Davis’ assistant Tiff had her face pressed dangerously close to the screen of her IPad as she read out the numbers from tonight’s show.
“Did you lose your glasses again, Tiff?” Davis loosened his tie and opened up the top button. Now that he was outside, the balmy night air was making him sweat. Although it might also have had something to do with the three glasses of Champagne he had drunk.
“And my contacts,” Tiff replied almost proudly. Tiff was invaluable to Davis, at only twenty-two he had at first been reluctant to hire her, straight out of film school that she was. She had started as an unpaid intern (Davis’ favourite kind) but had soon made herself so indispensable Davis had been forced to hire her to avoid losing her skills. She was a natural producer, albeit a little too nice, but he would soon train that out of her.
Davis watched Tiff as she scrolled through the figures on her IPad. She was wearing tatty denim jeans and a Killer’s tour t-shirt that she never seemed to take off. Her unruly red hair fell down in front of her face in cascading ringlets. Everyone commented on just how attractive she would be if only she made a little more effort. But Davis liked the fact that she didn’t feel the need to use her looks to get a head. Tiff was all business and her scatty nature was all part of her charm. And something of an act he suspected.
She blew her hair from out of her face, not that Davis imagined that would help her see better, without her glasses or contacts she was as blind as a bat. “And we have another seven thousand who have already signed up for the repeat show.” She said.
“Next time we should up the cost of the repeats, Twenty Euros seems a little low,” Davis told her. Which won a none committal nod from the young woman. Still these were some very healthy numbers. Added to which they had the haul from the lottery tickets and a Five Euro charge for a short edited highlights show.
“Your car’s waiting, boss. I’ll make sure everyone’s packed up and gone.” With this Tiff wandered off in the direction of the last few vehicles left. These were mainly the construction team, who had already stripped and packed away the temporary seating platforms, PA and most of the outside Broadcasting unit. In less than an hour’s time, it would have been like they had never been here.
Except for the house, of course.
Davis felt a chill at his back and turned to look at the house, now standing all on its own in the middle of the field. It was a strange sight, a ramshackle haunted house out here, like it had been dropped from the sky by the Devil Himself. He moved a little closer and the warm night air began to cool with every step he took towards it. Davis stopped some twenty yards from the structure when he realised he could see his own breath.
The house would sit there until the morning, even after the creature inside had been incapacitated and shipped away to a secret location literally only four people knew of. No one, not even the hardest of the construction crew would go near the place in the dark. Not when the demon had been so recently in residence and Davis couldn’t blame them. The place simply radiated evil.
Like everything else, the house was a set, especially made to strict specifications. It boasted fifteen remote cameras, which Miller and his team could control from the safety of the outside broadcasting studio. Every possible exit had a series of small metal charms nailed to it, strange runic symbols charged by magic Davis had no comprehension of.
The walls of the structure looked like they were made of wood, but were in fact thick steel sheets, dressed to look like old wood. All part of the grand illusion.
The house was, by necessity the most expensive part of this whole circus, it had a specially hired crew who attended the cameras inside and struck the set, once it had been warmed somewhat by the following day’s sun. It was getting harder and harder though to find crew members who were willing to attend the place. Those who did brave the deconstruction of the house were considered fucking rock stars in the eyes of the rest of the production.
Forget Dex Dexter, he was just another prop to them. No, the ‘demon crew’ were the real deal. Even Davis himself was somewhat in awe of them, although the attrition rate was getting to be a problem. No one was ever harmed by the job, no physically, not yet, but if you ever had the misfortune to catch the look into a demon crew member’s eyes. It was enough to give you a sleepless couple of nights.
Rummaging absently in his trouser pocket, Davis felt the small tin box he always carried with him. He took it out and turned it over in his hands. Such a small thing, nothing remarkable in its design, just a little bigger than a match box. But the small piece of parchment it housed was the key to the whole show. Davis opened it, but didn’t take out the folded piece of paper inside, not yet. Besides, he had read the text it contained so many times, over the months since it came into his possession, that he could recite it by heart, although he never did. That could be suicide.
The ancient words had to be read, exactly as written down to the subtlest of syllables, or for want of a better phrase, all hell could break loose. Well one of its creations to be more precise. On the paper was an incantation that kept Mister Minx compliant. If the creature was awake, as it was now, the words were like some obscene lullaby, once spoken the creature would crawl obediently into its specially constructed box. And conversely, the exact same incantation would wake it when the box was once again placed in the house ready for the next event.
Minx called the box its coffin, that was how they shipped it from show to show. Again, that task left to two members of the demon crew. They would draw straws for the dubious honour of shipping the monster, for which they got double pay. But anyone unlucky enough to win that little lottery would give the bonus, plus their pay check and no doubt a generous IOU to anyone willing to take on the task. Inevitably though every time they would try this, friends would become strangers until the job was done.