Sunday Night

She arrived in the middle of a storm, and looked as though she’d been sent direct from Hell. I opened the front door to reveal her, standing on my door step not a drop of water ruining her appearance. She wore a short black leather skirt and boots with a killer pointed heel. She fiddled with the black feather pierced through her bun of black hair at the nape of her neck and retied the knot of her corset. She looked at me, eyes accented with kohl, with a look of pure indifference. It was terrifying.

“So,” she spoke and an angel’s voice came out, not at all that of a saucy seductress “Am I late?”

I shook my head, “No you’re right on time. But you are the last to arrive.”

She nodded at this and handed me a bowl of salad with PVC gloved hands.

“Right well. Thanks. I’ll just-er put this in the kitchen,”

She stepped inside, her murderous heels stabbing into the carpet. I gulped and loosened my tie.

“Everyone, The Princess of Darkness is here,” I called into the living room, as she set off to join the others. I put the salad into the fridge, beside the large cake which was iced with an obnoxiously happy motif.

In the living room sat Jesus, The Priestess of Avalon, several demons, a pair of Druids and of course the Princess of Darkness. Jesus and one of the Druids were arguing.

“You shouldn’t be here, you’re not occult,” the Druid complained.

“It’s all just part of religion isn’t it?” Jesus defended himself.

“You’re ethereal, not occult. And it’s not just all part of religion you insufferable Christian git,”

“And what are you meant to be,” Jesus asked me, taking the spotlight off himself.

I shrugged, “Just another bloke. Another Satanical bloke,” I replied “Can’t say you haven’t heard of me. Just call me Ishmael.”

Jesus and the Druid both shook their heads. One of the female demons made a noise quite like a squeak when my black cat Jezebel crawled onto her lap. The Priestess of Avalon snorted.

“It’s just a cat,”

The female demon glared at her from across the coffee table and for a moment I was worried she’d lunge for the woman in the white robes, and have an Occult sort of WWE smack-down on the brittle glass table. She calmed herself however and took a sip from her wine glass.

“I suppose I’d best start then,” The Princess of Darkness said, holding a hat filled with little pieces of paper “get this thing underway and all.”

She closed her eyes and drew out a white card, and handed the hat to Jesus. When we each had our card the house was plunged into darkness. I could hear the muffled voices of the demons whispering to each other, and then the Priestess of Avalon shrieked. The lights came back on finally, after what felt like an eternity to me, with my heart pounding in my chest. The room was flooded with pale light and my eyes hurt as they adjusted.

“Priestess!” Jesus exclaimed to her prostrate form on the carpet, “Who did it?” he said, looking at each one of us with a scrutinizing glare.

“Not me,” the Princess of Darkness muttered, still sitting on the couch and not moved by the sight of the other woman’s body lying with a pool of blood near her head. The blood seemed to have an odd consistency to it.

“I didn’t do it,” I told Jesus quietly. The rest of the party also denied the murder.

“This is insane,” the female demon said almost hysterically, “we all lie too well. One of us had to have done it,”

“That’s the point of it isn’t it though? Being able to trick and lie?” the male demon said, wrapping a consoling arm around her. I noticed the Priestess’s chest was abnormally still. I dropped to my knees beside her and checked to see if she was breathing. Nothing. Almost in a panic myself, I checked her pulse.

“She’s,….she’s-er,” I stammered, standing up, “really dead.”

“Heart attack?” Jesus asked.

“Possibly,” I replied, “we’d have to get her checked at my clinic though. Or well, now, ring the morgue,”

The Princess of Darkness snorted “Almost forgot me didn’t you? You’ve got to call the police. But since I’m already here I’ll just give Senior Sergent Cornwell a bell.” She flicked open her mobile phone and began to do so.

I sighed, feeling rather dejected and just a few moments away from realising I was standing near my dead friend’s body. This, I decided, would be the last time I ever had an Occult Murder Mystery Dinner Party. These things always did get taken too far.