FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Rain lashed the buildings and streets of London, England. The wet and windy winter storm bringing an end to a balmy autumn. The sky rumbled with thunder accompanied by the occasional flash of lightning. Anyone with any sense was either at home or in the pub. The rain was slowly growing heavier and the wind was picking up, blowing discarded litter into the sky. The streets were all but empty, save for the occasional passing police car or staggering drunk. The wind howled mournfully through narrow alleyways, drowning out the sounds of the human detritus that inhabited the city. Sirens sounded in the distance, never close, but never that far away. The black sky made its ominous presence felt as it cascaded a stinging veil of icy water onto any foolish enough to stray outside. Urban foxes cowered in discarded cardboard boxes, and even the city's rats remained enclosed in their burrows and in the sewers. This was not a friendly night. This was the kind of night that made young children wake up crying for their mothers. This was the kind of night that made superstitious people grip their lucky rabbits foot with clammy fingers. To use the old cliché 'it was a dark and stormy night' would not do this night justice. This night was here to make sure people were talking about it in the eventual calm of the following day.

Despite the weather's dramatic efforts, the owner of Timeless Tomes, a bookshop specializing in antique volumes of long forgotten lore, was not intimidated. The shop was located in Camden Town, part of Inner London. It was a sturdy modern building, built to last. It wasn't the biggest or the grandest of buildings but it was good enough for Orville, its owner. At this moment in time the Dusky Dolphin sat behind his large wooden desk at the back of the shop, looking over a recent acquisition. He wasn't a particularly old fellow; anyone who looked at him would guess late twenties or maybe early thirties at a push (as a point of fact, he was twenty nine, but Orville was of the opinion that after 21, age didn't matter). He wore round spectacles, perched on the end of his snout, a pair of battered and faded jeans, and a casual shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The top three buttons of the shirt were undone, revealing his creamy white chest. He sighed and leaned back, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. He slumped in his antique, Victorian leather desk chair, peering around his shop. The rain and wind battered against the shop windows, but the windows barely rattled. He was rather proud of his shop. The walls were lined with bookshelves that raised floor to ceiling, each one containing an impressive array of old and rare books. Down the middle of the shop were waist high racks, packed with books. There was a small alcove near Orville's desk that contained a small, aged black leather sofa. To the right of his desk he had several display stands containing what Orville referred to as "Goth Literature".

Camden was famous for being a center of 'alternative' culture. Be it Punk, Goth, Metal or anything considered weird by 'mainstream' culture (which Orville despised). Because of this, a great deal of his customers were surprisingly literate nutters dressed in all manner of black leather, denim, studs, dyed hair, Doc Martens and everything in-between. The stands of "Goth Literature" contained books mainly for display purposes. Fake spell books with black covers decorated with silver pentagrams, books made from skin and fur (fake, of course), books held together with locks and chains, books with wax seals on them...a truly ridiculous collection. All that was printed inside these books was gibberish. False spells and rituals, bogus facts, mythical bestiaries, strange, made up languages. It was a waste of perfectly decent paper but they sold well, especially during the tourist season. The last feature of the shop was a small side room, to the left of Orville's desk. It was usually kept shut by a heavy wrought iron gate. The walls of this room were lined with locked Perspex display cases. These cases contained the oldest and rarest books Orville owned. The pride of his collection was an early medieval copy of the Egyptian Book of the Dead. The book itself was around eight hundred years old, and had apparently been recovered after the battle of Ager Sanguinis that took place in Syria during the first crusade. The crusader army had been utterly annihilated, and this book was passed through the ages from collector to collector.

Orville got up from behind his desk and walked over to the gate, pulling his keys from his pocket, he unlocked the gate, pushing it open. It swung back on greased hinges, clanging against the wall. He walked over to the display case where the book was kept and gazed at the ancient tome. A small label with the words 'sold' written on in neat calligraphy was inside the case, next to the book. A private collector from Saudi Arabia had heard about the book, and had offered a truly ridiculous sum for it. Orville wasn't so attached to his collection that he would pass up a chance to make some serious cash, so he had agreed to the price. This wasn't the first time Orville had negotiated a high value deal. In fact, he was quite well off. The reason he didn't live in a vast apartment or own an international chain of bookstores, was simply because he didn't want to. He hardly spent any of his fortune. His apartment was nice and modern (it had been extensively remodelled, of course), he was happy with his little shop; he was content to just...be. Leaving the room he locked the gate and shut off the rest of the lights in the shop. At the back of the shop was a small storage room with a door leading to a flight of stairs that led up to the apartment. Slowly climbing the stairs Orville emerged in his ultra modern apartment.

Just because he didn't like spending money, didn't mean he didn't splash out occasionally. He had spent a great deal of money getting his spacious apartment to look just how he wanted it. The interior looked like a 'rustic' country farmhouse, with exposed oak beams in he roof, and antique wooden furniture. It looked like something out of a catalogue for people who thought the countryside was still stuck in the Victorian era. Orville liked the look though so he had gone with it, adding modern touches at every turn. Little touches that made living very comfortable. The flat had two entrances. The one that led up from the shop opened out in the kitchen, where Orville stood now. The second was the main entrance to the flat itself. A door led to a small corridor, with the door to the next flat opposite. A flight of stairs then led down to a door that opened on to the street. Locking the door to the shop, Orville walked through the kitchen and out into his cosy living room, his leather sofa looked very inviting, as did his large TV, but he had something more important to attend to right now. Making sure the front door was locked he went into his bathroom switching on the lights and removing his clothing, revealing his smooth, perfectly patterned black and white body. His bathroom was lined floor to ceiling with tiles made to look like black marble. He had a very large walk in shower with a showerhead the size of a football. He stepped into the shower, but instead of reaching for the taps for the main shower, he reached for a single tap on the opposite side of the shower cubicle. Closing the glass shower door, he turned the tap and a fine mist began to spray from four nozzles in each corner of the shower. The fine spray filled the cubicle with wet mist in a very short space of time. Orville was soaking wet in a matter of moments.

Letting out a quiet squee, Orville relaxed in the spray. The water was actually a saline solution; with a salt content exactly the same as that of seawater, plus a mixture of the naturally occurring elements that made seawater...seawater. The major disadvantage of being a sapient sea mammal that lived on land was extreme drying of the skin. In order to prevent this, several specialist companies to the sapient species that required regular dousing with salt water delivered tanks of saline solution (for a small fee). Once a day Orville would shower in the salty mist. He didn't need to; the recommended guideline for cetaceans was once every two days. Orville showered once a day simply because he really enjoyed it. He braced his hands against the wall and just let the mist envelope him. He breathed in deeply, tasting the slightly metallic saltiness of the water on his tongue. After a good half an hour, he sighed and switched off the water, stepping out of the shower he put on his bathrobe and padded back into his apartment. Flopping down on his sofa he lay back and closed his eyes. He could feel a migraine coming on. He'd been getting them recently, although he had no idea why. They'd started a few weeks ago, sporadically at first, but now he seemed to get one every day. He'd been to the doctors of course and had all the usual tests done. They'd even done an MRI scan on his head, but he was completely clear. With a sigh he got up from the sofa and walked into the kitchen, opening the medicine cabinet and pulling out a bottle of pills. The label proclaimed the pills to be rizatriptan, 'for the relief of migraines'. Taking two of the pills, he put the pill bottle back in the cabinet and swallowed them down with a glass of water. Rubbing his eyes, Orville decided it was probably time for bed.

That night, with the rain and wind pounding on his window, the first nightmare came. Orville found himself standing in a desert. The edges of his vision were blurry, like he was looking through a salt encrusted porthole. The light was being reflected oddly from the sand, splitting into rainbows at the edges of his vision. A dark figure appeared on the horizon, approaching slowly. It eventually resolved itself to be a moving woodcut of a demon, the kind found in old religious texts on demonology. Orville started to feel a sense of dread when the woodcut looked at him. It raised a hand and pointed at him. Orville looked down at his skin, and saw it was beginning to rapidly dry out. Large cracks began to appear in his skin and large black beetles began to pour from the rents in his flesh. Orville screamed.

Orville stared at the ceiling. He was panting slightly; sweat caused his sheets to stick to his back. He sat up and clutched his head. Looking over at his bedside clock, he saw it was six in the morning. He slumped back in his bed and groaned. Once his heart had stopped hammering, he slid out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. After relieving himself, he headed for the living room, flopping down on the sofa. He woke up a few hours later with bright sunlight streaming through the curtains.

"Thank fuck it's Sunday..." He muttered, before getting up.

A while later he was sitting in a coffee shop, reading a book. A small cup of espresso steamed gently in front of him. The sound of the chair opposite him being moved made him look up.

"Finally here?" He said, looking back down at his book.

"I'm only five minutes late and you know it." Came the reply. Orville carefully placed a bookmark on his page, and closed the book. The person that was now sitting opposite him grinned. Her name was Anya, and she was a Blood Python. She was tall, slender and (for those that went for scales instead of fur or hair) really quite beautiful. Her blood red scales were accented with silvery grey and sandy brown patches, her orange-yellow eyes seemed to track his every move. Her long, thick tail coiled and uncoiled around her long slender legs.

"You look like shit." She said bluntly.

"Yeah...didn't sleep well. Had a weird nightmare. The migraine didn't help."

"I thought you got pills for them?"

"Yeah, they don't really do much- and no, I still don't want to try hypnosis."

"Oh come on! It really does work you know."

"So you keep saying, but aren't you worried about perpetrating the stereotype?"

"Excuse me?"

"A snake practicing hypnotherapy?"

Anya glared and Orville, who grinned at her.

"If it wasn't for that bloody cartoon..." she muttered darkly

"Ah ah...The Jungle Book was published in 1894." Orville said, raising a finger "Seventy three years before the kids film."

"Well that's great then. I have two historical figures to blame for this particular stigma then." Anya said, rolling her eyes with mock exasperation.

"Walt Disney didn't actually personally make the film you know." Orville said, downing his espresso.

"Did you consider that all the coffee you drink might be causing your migraines?" Anya said, raising a brow at him, chaning the subject.

"Yes, but life without coffee is meaningless."

"That's sad."

"Tell you what, I'll give up coffee the day you give up Advocaat."

"I'm not giving up my naughty custard for anything." Anya said with a pout.

Orville laughed and got up to pay for his coffee.

The rest of the day was spent wondering around London. The advantage of living in a capital city was that, even though it was a Sunday, most places were still open. It was after lunch now, about two in the afternoon. Anya had wanted to see the new Samurai exhibit at the British Museum. It was only there for a few weeks, on loan from the Tokyo National Museum. The displays were supposedly quite impressive. Orville enjoyed visiting the British Museum. Even though most of the stuff they had was stolen from other countries, it had some superb examples of ancient literature. Of course, he hadn't had time to take his usual route through the museum, as Anya had dragged him straight to the Samurai exhibit. At first Orville had been slightly annoyed, but that annoyance had turned into fascination when he saw some of the examples of calligraphy on display. Anya was more interested in the armour. She was fascinated by the way it was designed and put together. Orville often joked that she should have become an archaeologist instead of a hypnotherapist, to which Anya would reply that archaeologists didn't get paid nearly as well as she did. Orville was currently studying a particularly...illustrated piece of calligraphy. The borders were filled with paintings of mighty warriors and beautiful princesses, ogres and demons, spirits, cranes and fish. The last two seemed kind of odd to include on a painting of this scale and intricacy, but it added nicely to the overall tone. Orville was looking over the actual calligraphy at this moment though. The brush strokes were elegant and smooth, not a single line was out of place. As he peered closer he thought he could see a faded image printed on the bamboo mat that the piece was on. It was almost like a watermark. Pushing his glasses up his nose, Orville leaned in closer. He could just make out the image of a Japanese style demon. It looked oddly familiar, but Orville couldn't quite place where he had seen it before. Blinking, he straightened up. He could feel another migraine coming on, and he had left his pills in his apartment.

He found Anya practically drooling over a set of armour. The armour was black, and the helmet was adorned with a pair of golden ferns. Anya looked up as Orville approached.

"Orville! Isn't this armour amazing?" she said excitedly, practically bouncing with delight. Orville looked at the armour.

"It's okay I guess." He said, rubbing the back of his head.

"Okay? Okay?! This armour belonged to Tokugawa Ieyasu!"

"Wasn't he some kind of famous general?"

"You could say that, yeah."

Orville didn't really get how someone like Anya could get so excited about something designed to prevent death on the battlefield. Orville was a very intelligent person (something he knew all too well), and he spent a great deal of time reading. His passion was in books and literature, but it extended o anything written down. Be it the Norse rune stones in Scandinavia or the Dead Sea Scrolls, he was interested in it. He spoke three languages and went swimming every Wednesday evening. He could not for the life of him, however, understand his best friend's fascination with old, dusty armour, worn by long dead kings and generals. Although he rather suspected Anya thought the same about him, but with him it was understandable (or so Orville thought at least).

"Hey, Anya?"

"Yep?"

"Why do you like ancient armour so much?"

"What do you mean?" the snake said, looking at Orville.

"You don't give off that kind of vibe. You're into all that meditation and crystals stuff."

"Can't a girl have hobbies? Besides, you know I'm not a hippy. I kick too much arse for that."

"I just don't get it is all...ow."

"Ow?"

"Ow! Owowowowow!"

Orville pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. His vision sparkled with bright flashes of light. A sharp pain was busy pounding its way through his skull.

"Ow fuck!"

"What's wrong?" Anya asked, looking concerned.

"I think my medication is wearing off." Orville replied "But I left it back home."

"That was a bit silly of you, wasn't it?"

"Thank you, Anya." Orville said curtly. "I need some paracetamol or something."

Anya rummaged through her handbag, pulling out an old, battered blister pack. The foil was faded and flaking in some places.

"I have this pack." She said, holding it out "I have no idea how long it's been in my handbag for though."

"They'll do for now I suppose."

Orville took the foil and popped out four tablets, swallowing them all in one gulp. They tasted terribly bitter, even after washing them down with a swig from his water bottle.

"Urgh..."

"Feel better?"

"No."

"Oh good!"

After spending the rest of the day with Anya, Orville bade her farewell and got on the tube back to Camden. The paracetamol he had taken back at the museum had already worn off. Leaning back in his seat on the surprisingly empty train, he pressed the cold can of coke he had bought at the platform against his head. The train rumbled through the dark underground tunnels, pausing briefly at platforms to let people on and off the train. Eventually it arrived at his stop. Emerging from the hot, humid underground tunnels, he saw the sky had clouded over. Spots of rain began appearing on the mostly dried pavement. With a sigh he began walking home just as the heavens opened. Orville walked through the streets, cold rain bouncing off his head and running down his face. It felt good, the icy water soothing his pounding head. He walked past his shop window and opened the door to the flat, heading in through the front door. He traipsed up the stairs and fumbled with the lock on his front door. Getting it open, he stepped into his apartment. The door closed behind him with a click. Still dripping wet, he went into the kitchen and grabbed his migraine pills from the cabinet. Tapping two into his palm he went over to the sink, putting the pills in his mouth and drinking directly from the tap. Wiping his mouth he went to his bedroom, peeling off his damp clothes. Leaving them in a soggy pile on the floor, he fell full length onto his bed, asleep before he hit the pillow.

Orville was standing in the desert again. A familiar feeling of dread and fear was already building inside him. He tried to wake up, jerk himself awake but nothing happened. The figure of the demon appeared on the horizon again. As it got closer he could see that this time it looked like an old Japanese painting of a demon. It drew closer and closer, grinning horribly. It began to raise its arm. Orville began screaming at it, but no sound. He tried shouting in all the languages he knew, and everything that sounded like it might drive away a demon, even if it was only in his dreams. The demon seemed amused, and continued to raise its hand. The desert suddenly began to shake, and he demon looked annoyed. It lowered its hand and retreated back over the horizon.

Orville opened his eyes. Anya was over him, her hands on his shoulders.

"Ow?" He suggested.

"Oh! Sorry!" Anya said, quickly letting him go.

Orville sat up. His curtains were open, revealing a grey and leaden sky.

"You're shop wasn't open when I dropped by, so I came up. You were screaming something awful."

"I was...screaming?"

"Yeah. You must have been having one hell of a nightmare."

"Y-yeah..." Orville looked down. His stomach lurched.

"Uhm...could you pass me my bathrobe please?" he asked Anya, who was trying to look everywhere except at the bed.

"Eh? What?" she asked, clearly not paying attention.

"Bathrobe! Behind the door! Now!" He screamed. Anya grabbed the bathrobe and hurled it at him. He slipped it on quickly, wrapping it around his naked body.

"You could have left!" He said, white cheeks colouring pink.

"I couldn't!"

"Why no- ahhh..."

Orville clutched his head.

"Well...it's morning now...no more nightmares, hey?" Anya said, rapidly changing the subject.

"Yeah...no more nightmares..."

There was a pause.

"Hey Anya?"

"Uh...yes? Yes?"

"I think I may take you up on that hypnotherapy after all."

Anya blinked. She certainly hadn't expected this. She knew how stubborn Orville was.

"What...made you change your mind?"

"Follow me down to the shop, and I'll tell you."

A while later, the two were down in Orville's shop. Anya was sitting on the sofa, and Orville was behind his desk.

"So the last two nights you've had the same dream, but today it didn't go as far as the first time because I woke you up?" Anya said.

"Yep."

"Something different might have happened. It may not be a recurring nightmare."

"Look, I'm intelligent enough to know when I should get help. I don't want this to turn into something that has an adverse effect on my life!"

Anya sighed.

"Okay, but before we go any further, I need to know if there's something in your history that could have caused you to start having these dreams." She said.

"Isn't the purpose of repressing memories so you can't remember them?"

"Smartarse."

"Anya...I'm being serious. Why would I start having nightmares now? What could have triggered them? It's never happened before." Orville said, getting up from behind his desk and wandering over to a bookshelf.

Anya paused, looking thoughtful.

"When did these migraines start?" she asked

"A few weeks ago."

"Can you be more specific?"

"What, you want an exact date?"

"Not that specific."

"Uhh...about two weeks ago."

"Do you remember the first one?"

"Yes. Yes I do. I imagine that is what getting shot through the head with a red hot poker feels like."

"Well what were you doing?"

"Hmm...I think...I think I had just signed for an order. I was cataloguing the books. I opened one of them for...some reason, and then the pain hit me. It felt like my skull was going to explode."

"Do you know which book it was?"

"I...it was...hm...I can't remember. I usually remember all the books I have, but every time I try to think about this shipment my mi-"

Orville stopped, his mouth hung open in mid speech. He stared out of the window, his eyes widened. Anya looked around but there was no one there. Then it dawned on her.

"Why the hell would you be repressing the memory of a book?" She said with no small amount of incredulity.

"I don't know! How should I know?! It's been repressed!"

"What could possibly be so bad about a book that you repressed it and it's giving you migraines and nightmares?"

"I dunno...I was fairly certain reading Twilight gave me eye cancer..."

"You read Twilight?"

"I was curious. I rue my own curiosity...but anyway! Maybe it was something I saw in the book? Maybe something I saw caused me to repress the memory of the book, and my brain is trying to remember by giving me nightmares?"

"That...sounds logical." Anya agreed, nodding her head slowly.

"Right, so when can you hypnotise me? The sooner we get this over with the better."

"It's not quite that simple you know." Anya said, leaning back into the sofa.

"I didn't think it would be..." Orville replied, returning to his chair behind the desk, looking rather dejected.

"Go on then." He said, "Give me the convoluted details."

Anya paused for a while, collecting her thoughts while Orville half stared, half glared at her.

"Hypnosis is...rather tricky to explain. It's more a state of mind than a physical effect. People are affected by Hypnosis at different levels. Some people are highly susceptible, other people are extremely resistant, to the point it is nearly impossible to hypnotise them."

"Here's hoping I'm not one of those people." Orville interjected.

"Indeed. Now then, being in trance is not like going to sleep like you might have seen on certain cartoons." Anya said the last two words with heavy, rather spiteful emphasis.

"It's more a state of...hyper awareness." She continued, "All of your senses will go into overdrive, but your ability to do anything voluntarily will drastically decrease. At the same time, your suggestibility will increase to the point where, if I told you you could taste or smell...uhhh...vanilla ice cream, for example, you would be able to taste and smell it, even if there was no vanilla ice cream around."

Orville was quiet for a few moments before speaking.

"So basically...I'll be unable to do anything, but at the same time have all my senses supercharged?"

"Essentially, yes. Trance is a state of hyper awareness like I said."

"And any command or suggestion you give me while in trance, I'll do it?"

"Kind of. To you it'll seem like such a good idea, you couldn't imagine not doing it. After repeat sessions you'll eventually be able to see, hear, smell and even taste entire scenarios being described to you."

"While being unable to move?"

"Yes, if I chose to simply describe something to you. If I gave you instructions to move, you would."

"How safe is all this? I mean, it doesn't sound particularly safe in the wrong hands, so to speak."

"The most important thing to remember about hypnosis is that you cannot be made to do something you genuinely do not want to do. If I told you to do something, and your subconscious decided that it was too dangerous, or something similar, then you wouldn't do it, and I would not be able to force you to."

Orville sighed and rubbed his temples. Talk about information overload.

"I suppose the next thing to do is to see how susceptible I am to hypnosis?"

"That would be a good place to start. I'll come back when you've closed up shop. I have a client at one."

"You'd best get going then. I've got the buyer for this book coming today anyway."

"Oh yeah, that Oil Baron."

"Prince, actually."

"I still think it's silly to sell that book."

"You haven't seen the amount."

"Do I want to know?"

"Yes, but I'm not going to tell you."

Anya stuck out her long forked tongue at Orville, before getting up and heading out of the shop.

"This book...I have been searching for it for many years."

"Well I'm happy you finally managed to find it."

Orville was standing in his special alcove next to a dingo dressed in a dark purple Armani suit. They were standing in front of the case that held the copy of the Book of the Dead. The prince leaned over the case. Studying the cover of the book.

"To think..." he said slowly "...that this book is nearly a thousand years old...Magnificent!"

Orville reached into his pocket, and one of the prince's (very large) bodyguards stepped forwards. Orville glared at the man and drew out a small rectangle of plastic.

"It's a keycard." He said, implying with just tone of voice that the guard was an utter moron. Stepping forwards he slid the card into a small grey box under the display case. There was a beep, and a keypad slid out from the box. Orville's fingers danced across the pad and the lock clicked. There was a hiss as the case slowly opened on hydraulic arms. The book itself was contained within a Perspex box with supports inside the box holding the book in place.

"An impressive security system for a shop so small." The prince said with approval.

"Thank you...your highness." Orville replied, donning a pair of white cotton gloves and carefully lifting the Perspex box out of the case. Another bodyguard stepped forwards wheeling along a large metal case, which he opened to reveal black foam padding, with a hole in the middle the perfect size for the book. Orville briefly wondered if there was some kind of special warehouse where people could go to get cases like this, before sliding the book into it's slot. The lid closed with a snap and clips were fastened.

"The money will be in your account momentarily." The Prince said with a beaming smile. The first bodyguard leaned forwards with a laptop. The prince tapped something on the keyboard and the computer beeped in response.

"Why do they do that?"

"Excuse me?" Orville was slightly distracted by the suddenness of the question.

"Why do they make noises? What do you suppose the purpose is?"

"I honestly couldn't say."

"Ah, it does not matter anyway. The funds are transferred. If you would like to check your accounts to confirm, we will be on our way."

Orville headed over to the computer on his desk, and logged into his accounts. There was a four, followed by a lot of zeroes. Orville looked up with a friendly smile.

"All good." He said.

"Excellent! Now, we shall not take up any more of your time Mr. O'Shea."

"It was a pleasure doing business with you!"

After the prince and his entourage had left, Orville flopped down in he chair and let out a huge sigh. That had been tense. He was sure the bodyguards were going to shoot him at any minute. He smiled then, leaning forwards to look at his very much increased account balance. A hand shot out of the screen, talons raking towards Orville's face. Orville leapt back with terrified scream, chair toppling, he landed hard on the ground. He scrabbled at the floor, pulling himself up against the wall. He stared with wild eyes back at his computer monitor. It sat there, nothing out of the ordinary. Orville's heart was pounding and sweat beaded on his forehead. He stared at his monitor for a full five minutes, the only sound in the shop was his own laboured breathing. Carefully reaching for a book, he picked one up and tossed it at the monitor. It hit the screen with a thunk, but aside from knocking it over, nothing else happened.

"Jesus wept..." Orville hissed, placing a hand over his still rapidly beating heart. He walked over to his monitor and set it back up. Retrieving the book he placed it back on the shelf. Checking his watch he saw it was almost five o'clock. Walking over to the door of his shop he closed the door and flipped the sign to closed. Locking the door he went back through the shop and was about to head upstairs when an eerie shiver shot up his spine. Orville whipped around, but there was nothing there. He closed the door to the shop with a bang and ran up the stairs to his apartment, where he immediately switched on all the lights. He then sat on the sofa, and switched on his television. As the screen flickered into life, something slicked past the screen. He leapt up from the sofa with a squee and spun around. There was nothing behind him.

"Jesus fucking Christ fuck!" he said, pressing a hand against his head. "This has got to stop..."

The knock at the door nearly gave him a heart attack. He cautiously approached it, before wrenching it open.

"AH-HAAaaa?"

Anya stared back at Orville, one brow raised.

"Jesus Orville, you look like shit."

A few moments later, Orville was lying on his bed, with Anya sitting next to him.

"Have you calmed down now?" She asked

"Narcotics would help..."

"No drugs. Now then, all you have to do is listen to what I say and do everything I tell you to do."

"Is...is that it? That's all I have to do?"

"It's harder than it sounds. Especially for intelligent people."

"Lets get on with this. I don't want to see anymore hands coming out of screens." Orville said curtly, trying to hide his cheeks that he knew had turned pink at the disguised compliment. Turning his head to the side, he looked at his alarm clock. Faintly glowing orange numbers told him it was five past five.

"Now then," Anya said with a small smile "To start, I just want you to take several deep breaths to slow your heartbeat and relax. So breath in...aaand breathe out."

Orville did as instructed. After several deep breaths he was already feeling relaxed.

"Now I want you to close your eyes." She instructed. He complied.

"While your eyes are closed, you can feel the relaxation spreading throughout your body. Feel it starting at the top of your head, radiating down in waves. Waves of relaxation. Let your shoulders relax first, feel them drop, become heavy and soft. You can't keep them tense, even if you try. The relaxation spreads down into your arms, your arms grow heavier and heavier. Heavy like lead. Nice and relaxed. Your arms are very relaxed. So very, very relaxed. So relaxed that you can't move them, even if you really tried you will be unable to move them."

Orville realised she was right. He couldn't move his arms, but that was okay. He was feeling very comfortable right now.

"The relaxation is flowing down your body, into your legs. Your legs are as heavy and relaxed as your arms. Your legs are so relaxed, so comfortable, moving them is not possible. Your body is so relaxed now, it feels like you're sinking. Sinking down into trance. I just want you to relax, listen to my voice and sink deeper...go deeper...imagine yourself sinking slowly down deeper and deeper."

Orville was slowly becoming aware of how dark it had gotten. The lights in his room had been on. Had Anya switched it off?

"Sink...sink deeper and deeper. So deeply relaxed."

Orville's body felt strange. It was like he was genuinely sinking, yet still somehow lying on his bed. It wasn't an unpleasant experience, so he allowed it to continue happening.

"You are so very relaxed now." Anya continued, leaning closer to Orville, her voice becoming quieter.

"So very relaxed. My words and suggestions become very clear in your mind. Very clear in your mind. You will find yourself doing what I suggest; you will do it without objecting or resisting. When you are in trance, you will experience whatever I tell you to experience, and you will do whatever it is I am telling you to do. Now sink deeper and deeper, deeper and deeper and deeper. I will count down now from five to one. When I reach one and snap my fingers, you will fall into a deep trance. All my suggestions will take root and you will carry out my suggestions to the letter."

Orville wasn't really thinking by this point. Normally the wording of the previous sentence would cause him to frown, but all he could do was float in blackness.

"Five... sinking deeper. Four... so very, very relaxed. Three... drifting deeper still. Two... mind completely devoid of thought. One, falling into trance...now."

There was a click that echoed through Orville's mind as he slid into trance. His body began to tingle and he felt incredibly light. It really felt like he was drifting through the air, yet firmly rooted to his bed. Everything seemed kind of foggy at first. When Anya spoke, her voice cut through the fog and everything became sharp and focused.

"Can you describe what being in trance is like?" Anya asked.

Orville felt himself replying before he had even thought about. It wasn't that he was compelled to answer; it just seemed odd that he wouldn't.

"It's...strange." He replied, his voice starting slow. "I am floating... but I am not... everything is clear... but it isn't."

"Good. Now, can you see anything?"

"No."

"Can you smell roses?"

"No."

"I'm holding a rose. Can you smell it?"

Orville sniffed the air.

"Yes. I can smell roses."

"Describe the smell."

"It is soft and sweet, but distinctive."

Anya smiled, her empty hands folded in her lap. He was definitely under. She could begin now.

"In order to remember, all you have to do is follow my suggestions and let your mind take you where it wants to go. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"I want you to go into your memory. I want you to delve deeply into your subconscious. Then tell me what you see, if anything."

There was a pause, filled with the sound of Orville's now steady breathing.

"I am standing in a field."

Anya paused. This was...different.

"Describe the field."

"The grass is tall and golden. The sky is blue, and the sun is low. There is a tree. Its leaves are amber...it is autumn."

Despite herself, Anya had to ask.

"Why is your subconscious a field in autumn?"

"Autumn is my favourite month. I like the way it smells."

Anya was intrigued. This was a reaction to hypnosis she had not been expecting. Most people reported to seeing images when asked to access memories, but Orville appeared to be experiencing an entire scenario.

"Can you smell anything now?"

"Yes. Dried leaves and the faint smell of bonfires."

"Okay...now remember all the books you bought in the last month. What do you see?"

"There is a door."

"A door?"

"A door in the field."

"Can you open the door?"

"Yes."

Orville reached his hand up from the bed and turned his hand like he was turning a doorknob. Anya was sure she saw his fingertips flatten slightly as if he was actually applying pressure on something. A strange feeling in her chest gave her the impression this was going to be far different from any session she'd had before.

"There are bookshelves. It is an old library." Orville said with a soft sigh.

"Do any of the books stand out? Do any of the books seem odd?"

"No... wait... there is one."

"Can you describe the book?"

"It is hard. I can't..." Orville frowned; his closed eyes seemed to screw up tight, before relaxing again.

"I can't focus on it clearly. It... it is bound in green leather... embossed with gold... the book is opening... why... I... No! Get away! Not again! I don't want to dry up! Leave me alone!"

Orville's sudden yelling startled Anya. He began to thrash on the bed. He was making motions like he was... struggling with someone?

"I won't let you! I won't..."

"Orville, listen to me. I will count to three and snap my fingers. When you do you will come out of trance."

"You won't do it again!"

"One, two, three!"

Anya snapped her fingers. Orville sat bolt upright, his eyes snapping open. He fell out of the bed but leapt to his feet almost instantly.

"I know the book!" He hissed, eyes wide and bloodshot. Bounding out of the room he headed for his shop. Anya scrabbled to her feet and followed in time to see his tail vanishing down the stairs in his kitchen.

Anya ran after him, her mind racing. Maybe he wasn't suited for hypnosis? He was clearly susceptible, but she'd never seen such an... extreme reaction before. She skidded into the shop in time to see Orville dumping a box of books over the floor. There was already a pile of books next to him, meaning this was the second box.

"Orville, you need to calm down." She said as soothingly as she could "Hypnosis isn't for every-"

"No!" Orville snapped, hurling books around.

"Ah HA!"

He jumped to his feet, and slammed a book down onto his desk. It was exactly as he had described it. Bound in dark green leather with gold embossing. It had no title on either cover or the spine, just patterns in each corner of the cover, front and back. Orville began frantically flipping through the book. Anya placed a hand on his arm, but he shook her off.

"See! Here! Right here!" He said, whipping around to stare at Anya with wild eyes. Anya looked down at the page he was pointing a shaking finger at. It was a woodcut of a demon, the kind that showed up in old religious texts quite a lot.

"What about it?"

"The first night! In my nightmare... the demon looked like this!"

"I thought you said it was a Japanese demon?"

"It was the second night! After I saw that... picture... watermark... thing! That thing at the museum! It changed!"

Orville turned the page and practically had a fit.

"See! There! Why is it there!" He shrieked, his voice hysterical.

Anya looked down at the book and saw a picture of a Japanese demon. The style was the same as the ones painted on bamboo scrolls or temple walls. Orville turned the next page with a shaking hand. It was blank. He began rapidly turning pages, but each page was blank. Except for the final page. The final page had a ghostly image of a faceless, hooded figure. Underneath it was a scrawled message. A hand that was shaking quite badly wrote it. Anya could barely make out what it said.

"In... fine... Torquebit... Mortis... Venit. It sounds like Latin. What does it mean?" Anya looked up at Orville and actually took a step back. His skin was very pale, even the black patches had turned grey. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he was shaking so hard it looked like he might shatter.

"It is Latin..." he replied slowly, licking his lips. "It means... At the end of Torment, Death comes."

"That's a little morbid." Anya said, trying to sound jovial. The look Orville gave her made any sense of joviality drain away quite rapidly.

"What do I do? What do I do?!" He muttered, clutching his head.

"Well...you own this bookshop specialising in antique books. You must have something in here."

Orville looked up at her, and a smile slowly spread across his face.

"Anya I could kiss you!" he exclaimed. He sat down in his chair, switching on the computer on his desk.

"What? Because I told you where you work?"

"No!" Orville said, then giggled and wiped sweat from his brow. "Books! I have lots of books! One in particular would probably do!"

"Which one?"

"The Book of the Dead."

Anya blinked.

"Didn't you sell that book today?" She asked

"Indeed I did! But I'm not stupid, no no no! I acquired the book months ago. I had it scanned, and had the individual pages sent off to be translated. The translation came through last week, but I never had time to look at it!" Orville's voice was still somewhat hysterical, but the tone was different.

"Look, are you sure this is really a demon? The subconscious mind is about thirty thousand times more powerful than the conscious mind. It can create entire worlds and scenarios from nothing. It can convince you that stuff is happening to your body, when in reality you are just lying in a room or sitting on a chair. It can make you taste and smell things that are not present."

"Maybe... maybe I'm just going mad? Who knows?! Who cares!?

"Look, Orville. I'm a Hypnotherapist, but I'm not a full on Psychologist. I think you need to see a professiona-"

"Here! This one!" Orville interrupted. He hadn't been paying much attention anyway. What he had been doing was scrolling through a very large PDF file, and he had finally come across a likely candidate. He selected the page and clicked the print icon. The printer began to hum. Anya sighed.

"What 'spell' is it?" She asked

"It's a spell that sends demons and wicked souls straight to the Devourer... or at least that's what the translation says."

"Isn't that the half hippo half crocodile thing that eats hearts?"

"Yes indeedy!" Orville said, ripping the paper from the printer, holding it up triumphantly. He turned to go back upstairs, but Anya grabbed his arm.

"Orville! Listen! I think you need to stop this now. You clearly aren't well. When I hypnotised you I wasn't expecting it to have such an adverse effect on you. Why don't you just calm down, and we can talk about this more tomorrow?"

Orville stared at her, and then wrenched his arm from her grasp.

"Don't you get it? This isn't some horror movie or storybook where the hero tries to convince his friends things are awry but they don't believe him until it's too late! This is real and it's happening right now! I will not be some clichéd character in a story that waits until the last second to do anything! I'm sorting this out now, before it gets worse! Before lights start flickering and the house starts shaking! Not me!"

Anya stared at Orville. Her expression suggested she was becoming slightly wary, if not afraid of her friend. .

"All I need you to do is put me in trance once more. Then I'll find this demon and fuck him up!" He turned, but paused. Heading back into the shop he grabbed the green leather book and then ran up the stairs.

"Why do you need the book?" Anya asked, following him cautiously. "I thought you said the spell sent this demon straight to the Devourer."

"Don't sound so sarcastic. I know you don't believe me." Orville said over his shoulder.

"So why bring the book?"

"If the spell doesn't send the demon to be eaten, maybe it'll trap it back in the book."

"Isn't that stretching it a bit?"

"Don't... I don't... Shut up!"

They arrived back in Orville's apartment and he went straight to the bedroom. Lying down on his bed he closed his eyes. After a moment's pause, he opened them. Anya was leaning against his door, her arms folded.

"What? What is it now?" Orville asked impatiently.

"You need serious help." Anya said, "I am not going to put you under again if it'll just make your condition worse."

Orville sat up and glared at her.

"What condition?! I'm obviously possessed!"

"Listen to yourself! Demons, spells, possession... you think all that stuff is a heap of shit!" Anya said angrily.

"I DID think it was shit... until it actually happened to me!" Orville retorted, turning away from her.

"Orville... just think about this rationally. Demons do not exist. This kind of thing is stupid, and you know it. You are a highly intelligent individual, you shouldn't be getting so hysterical over something like this."

Orville was looking thoroughly miserable now. Anya walked over to the bed and sat down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Your migraines may not be caused by a psychological disorder. It could be something much more serious, and it could be causing you to hallucinate."

"But the doctor said-"

"Doctors don't always get it right." Anya said firmly.

Orville let out a deep sigh, and placed the book on his bedside table. His body tensed, but he forced himself to relax.

"What's the matter?" Anya asked.

Orville carefully removed her hand from his shoulder and stood up, picking up the green book. He stared down at the cover, and back at the bedside table. Then he sighed and looked up at Anya.

"Perhaps you're right." He said.

Anya smiled.

"I could use a drink." Orville said, rubbing his head.

"What do you fancy?"

"Hmm...I fancy a few glasses of Advocaat." He said, his fingers tensed around the book.

"Advocaat? What's tha-"

Anya was cut off when Orville smashed her across the face with the book.

The snake went sprawling across the bed, blood spraying over the sheets. She hit the floor on the other side and lay still for a few moments. She then slowly got to her feet, blood dripping from her snout.

"What the fuck was that for?!" She shrieked.

Orville was glaring at her. His hands were gripping the book so hard his knuckles had turned white. He reached down to the bedside table and picked up the alarm clock.

"The numbers of my alarm clock... are orange!" He snarled, hurling the clock at Anya. Anya snatched it out of the air. The numbers were green.

"Well well well..." Anya said with a sigh, the blood on her face slowly disappearing. She tossed the clock aside and cracked her neck.

"What else gave it away?" She asked

"Anya love's Advocaat. I just thought really hard about her never having it, or having heard of it before."

"Hmph... I guess you are pretty clever." The demon said. Its outline began to blur, limbs became obscured by some kind of black fog. It billowed from nowhere, completely obscuring the demon. The light in the room began to darken, until the only light was in a small spot where Orville was standing. The darkness seemed to be watching him, and then it spoke in a menacing voice.

"What will you do now? Your spell is useless."

Orville glanced down at the paper he still had clutched in his fist. He didn't need to see the writing to know it would be gibberish.

"I'm still in trance... aren't I?" He said

"Oh yes. Your friend is still giving you instructions, although I am preventing them from reaching you. Of course your words are still reaching her, but there is nothing she can do about it now." The darkness replied. It sounded smug.

"Yeah... you'd like to think that." Orville said, grinning.

"What? What are you doing?!"

Orville jumped backwards, out of the window that he knew was behind him.

"I'm falling out a window!" he screamed.

There was a soft thump as he hit the ground. He looked down and saw he had landed on a pile of mattresses. Jumping to his feet, Orville took off down the street. It was dark, and the street lamps had taken on a strange hue. Buildings twisted and warped in strange ways as he ran. Glancing over his shoulder he saw the darkness was chasing him, snuffing out lights as it came.

"Anya! I can't hear you, but I think my subconscious can!" He shouted to the air. "The darkness is chasing me! I need something to fight it!"

There was a faint sound, like someone whispering into the wind. Orville looked down and saw a necklace with a pendant on it. The pendant was a complex series of circles connected together in ways that made the eyes water. Orville skidded around a corner, slipping the necklace over his head.

"Orville, put on the necklace... put on the necklace..."

"Anya? Is that you?!" Orville called

"Yes. I want you to imagine you are in a car driving down the motorway. The car is the fastest one you can think of."

Orville found himself behind the wheel of a Bugatti Veyron, roaring down a long straight motorway. The six lanes were empty, illuminated only by the orange glow of road lights and his headlamps. He glanced at his rear view mirror, and saw the darkness still racing after him.

"I'm in the car! Now what?"

It was rapidly becoming apparent to Orville that as he got further from the darkness, the more he needed Anya's instructions. He hoped Anya realised this too. He was still hypnotised after all.

"Describe this demon. Describe the demon in as much detail as possible."

"It... looked like you, then it changed... it is darkness now. Just complete blackness."

"Is this darkness still chasing you?"

"Yes!"

"I want you to imagine you are driving towards a tunnel. In that tunnel are all the religious symbols you can think of."

Orville screamed into the tunnel. He could make out images of crosses, stars, moons, spirals, hammers and any other number of symbols.

"These symbols are glowing with holy light. Slowing and trapping the darkness. Making it slow, making it weak."

The symbols on the wall blazed with golden fire. The darkness screamed and shrank back, halting in its tracks.

"Stop the car and get out."

Orville did as he was commanded. The pendant around his neck was glowing as well.

"Walk towards the darkness. Open the green book."

Orville began walking. He no longer had any choice in the matter. His body was moving in accordance to Anya's instructions before he had even realised it. The book in his hands fell open, revealing it's blank pages.

"The darkness begins to spin into a vortex, faster and faster, held by a prison of holy fire."

Pillars of flame shot up around the darkness as it began to spin, forming a tornado of blackness. The demon howled with rage, battering it's swirling form against the fire that held it.

"How?! How is this happening!" it roared

"The fire begins to wrap around the darkness, sealing it tighter and tighter, channelling it towards the book."

The fire wrapped itself around the demon, forcing it into a tighter and tighter column, bending it down towards the book Orville held.

"The fire forces the demon back into the book, forcing it back into the pages that bound it."

The fire poured into the book, the demon screaming all the while. The ground began to shake and the walls of the tunnel began to crack.

"This is my mind!" Orville yelled, "Get back in your fucking book and out of my fucking head!"

The book slammed shut, falling to the ground with a heavy thud, wisps of smoke rising from its pages.

Orville stood there. His body was feeling strangely light.

"The book... has closed." He said quietly. He was feeling very tired and relaxed all of a sudden.

"The book begins to smoulder and burn, the pages and the demon burning away, burning from your mind. Your mind begins to clear as more of the book burns away."

Orville watched with a sense of growing satisfaction as the book burst into flames. It crackled and popped, pages curling and turning into white ash that scattered away to the wind.

"When the book has gone, your migraines will stop. You will no longer hallucinate, you will not be troubled by nightmares and you will sleep peacefully from now on."

Orville felt himself drifting, the walls of the reality he was in had gone. He was floating in blackness, the book burning away to nothingness in front of him.

"Take that..." he muttered.

"Three, your mind slowly returning to consciousness. Two, your mind is becoming aware of your surroundings. And one. Wide-awake. Wide... awake."

Orville slowly opened his eyes. He took a deep breath and sat up. Anya was sitting on the edge of his bed, a concerned look on her face. She sat back as he sat up, looking visibly drained. Orville looked over at his alarm clock. The orange numbers were showing it was quarter to six. Forty minutes had passed.

"Thanks..." He said.

Anya grabbed him and pulled him into a hug. Orville squeeed with surprise.

"Oh shut up. You had me so worried!" She said.

Orville slowly returned the hug.

"What do you call Advocaat?" Orville asked quietly.

Anya slowly released Orville, holding his shoulders. She looked him dead in the eye.

"Naughty custard."

Orville's face cracked into a huge grin and he grabbed Anya, hugging her tightly.

"Thank you so, so much!" He cried.

Anya laughed, and Orville joined in, both of them falling about in fits of borderline hysterical laughter. After a while, they lay next to each other on the bed, panting slightly.

"So... I wonder how much of that was in my head, and how much of it was an actual demon?" Orville said, gazing up at the ceiling.

"I don't know. It could have been your subconscious' way of dealing with a stressful situation."

"What stress?"

"Severe migraines can cause stress, especially if you don't know the cause."

Orville sighed.

"I'm just glad it's over and done with."

"Me too." Anya said, her head resting against Orville's.

"How did you know what to say? To get rid of the... whatever it was?" He asked

"I was just making it up as I went along." She replied.

"That sounds like you." Orville laughed. Then he reached down to his neck and slipped off the necklace.

"Here, this is yours." He said, holding it up in the air, letting the pendant dangle, glinting in the light.

"Keep it. I have plenty of jewellery back at home."

"Clever of using it as a sort of anchor though."

"I am a professional Hypnotherapist you know."

There was pause.

"Hey Anya?"

"Yeeeeesss?"

"Would you... would you like to go on a date some time?"

There was another pause.

"We don't need to go on a date. I already know you extremely well."

"Oh..."

"But you can buy me a drink, and I can move in here in about a week."

There was another pause.

"I sold the Book of the Dead for four million quid."

"Oh good. You can take me to Japan in the spring then."

This time the pause was a lot longer.

"Sooo..." Orville said, twiddling his thumbs. "Pub?"

"Pub." Anya agreed. The two sat up, sliding off the bed together. They stood, facing each other, and then Anya planted a kiss on Orville's lips.

"You knooow... Hypnosis can be used for more than just therapy." She said with a sly grin. Orville's cheeks immediately went bright pink.

"Pub first, then kinky hypno sex." He said, still blushing.

"Deal."