Episode 18

"I look like a streetwalker!" gasped Agent India in dismay, as she surveyed her image in the mirror.

"Oh, nonsense!" soothed Agent Prada, brushing the last few wisps of India's platinum blonde wig into place. She stepped back, a smug look on her own immaculately made-up face. "You look classy, but slightly naughty, which is the effect I was going for. Now, try these shoes on."

India tried to quell her rising feeling of acute embarrassment. She had never worn make-up in her life and Prada had applied plenty of it – at least that's what it felt like – and a blonde wig, for goodness' sake! Now, to India, things like make-up, high-heels, overly-fashionable clothes (her bright red T-Shirt had Liberation!!!! blazoned across it, complete with exclamation marks) were all symbols of a very secular and worldly existence - of which she usually wanted absolutely no part. She had to admit, though, under Prada's skilful hands she had been transformed – even her own mother wouldn't recognise her now, let alone a none-too-bright demon who had only met her a couple of times.

The none-too-bright demon in question, along with his talking monkey, was speeding along the highway in the back of Ray's car once more. The sound of Andy Williams's honeyed tones singing Love is a Many Splendoured Thing floated out of the costly Bose sound system. Harold would have preferred some nice Louis Armstrong, but he had to admit Mr Williams could certainly carry a tune pretty well for a human.

Thinking this, Harold felt a familiar pang of sadness. His own music had been warmly appreciated once upon a time, long ago. His talents had been much in demand back then. That was over for good now though and he'd never get to play for that audience ever again. To think he'd had it all: a purpose to his music and an eternity to play it in. and now it was lost to him forever - and it had been his own stupid fault.

"Take it easy, Ray!" Harold's maudlin reverie was broken by Nicole's sharp voice from the front passenger seat as Ray accelerated past a couple of big semi trucks, "We don't want to get pulled over for speeding like last time."

"Aw relax, woman," Ray grumbled, "It's not like we can't afford the odd speeding ticket now and then, sheesh!"

He did slow the car a little though.

"So how are we going to get into Baron Samedi's?" asked Harold, "Oh wait, I know, we could make out I'm some sort of sanitation inspector or something. How to explain you, though?"

"My dear fellow," replied Teatime somewhat acidly, "in your relatively brief time here, you seem to have managed to fill your head with an alarming amount of television nonsense. We'll go and see how the land lies first, then decide what to do. Sanitation inspector, indeed!"

"Well it works in the movies," shrugged Harold

"But this is real life, old sock." Teatime reminded him.

"Is it?" mused Harold, "Sometimes it feels like a badly-written novel, I mean, where's it all going anyway? Supposing we do find out why demons are disappearing, what then?"

"That, old button, is a very good question." replied Teatime, "And one to which I'm afraid I have no answer. Now, hand me one of those bananas, will you? I need some thinking fuel"

Harold did so. Teatime looked at the little label stuck to the yellow skin and made a face.

"You'd have though Nicole would have bought organic," he grumbled, "These pesticide-ridden things have no flavour whatsoever."

Agent Othello popped his head round the door.

"Target's on the move," he announced, "We have to go now."

India and Prada picked up their bags and trotted (or in India's case, tottered) after him. Those high heels would have to go. Honestly, the things you had to do in the eternal battle against evil!

Episode 17

Director Opal regarded the hand-held GPS tracker with its steadily glowing red dot.

"Turtles Wood Heights." he mused, "Nice address these black Sheep have. Good work Agent."

As India's supposed superior officer, Agent Mercury felt mildly envious of the praise India was getting. As a far more experienced agent, he should have thought about the tracker himself, but hadn't. He shook off the unworthy bad feeling with a finger-wagging mental reprimand: shame on you, you know she deserves it, now learn from it and move on.

"We'll need to move quickly," said India, "the battery in the Ladybird won't last forever,"

"Indeed," agreed Opal. "We'll need a different approach this time, though: we can't just bust into a private residence – especially one in that particular neighbourhood. They'll probably have private security and everything. Thinking caps, people!"

"So," said Harold, now ensconced comfortably in one of Ray and Nicole's expensive electric recliner chairs, "If you're on a mission and I'm supposed to be helping you, why did I have to waste my time working in a bar all those weeks, why didn't we meet sooner? And what was that all about me finding a job and slumming it when we could have been as snugs as bugs here all the time?"

So many questions, thought Teatime, as he wracked his brains for a quick answer. He had not been completely candid with Harold about the latter's purpose on Earth. Oh, yes, it was true he was here to assist Teatime in a way, but (and there really was no way this could be sugar-coated) he was here because his father considered him completely expendable. The original plan had been for Teatime to follow and observe Harold covertly to see if his naive bumbling about on the Brightside would attract the attentions of whoever (or whatever) was making demons disappear.

When, after a few weeks, this hadn't happened, Teatime had decided to make himself known to Harold and encourage him to be a bit more proactive to see if that would do the trick. It was still early days on that one, and the run-in with OGS hadn't helped matters. He had to admit, though, a charismatic "human" would probably be useful in the investigation for the reasons he had told Harold earlier, so if the plan didn't work out it didn't really matter, and if it did, well... Having never once come close to drowning in the milk of human kindness, Teatime was not the most soft-hearted of creatures, but even so, he couldn't really bring himself to tell Harold that he had been basically set up as bait.

"I was busy with other matters, old sock," he prevaricated, "Took a while to sort things out, but I came as quickly as I could."

"But why didn't you tell me straight away that all this stuff was going on?" persisted Harold,

"Er, well, I wanted to see what you were like for a bit first." replied Teatime, wishing the demon would just let it go. "Getting to know someone is a bit like prospecting for gold: not to be rushed into without a proper survey, as it were."

Harold shrugged and was silent for some time after that, but Teatime could see that he was not altogether satisfied by the answers he'd been given. Perhaps he wasn't as big a duffer as Teatime had previously thought.

"Right, well, anyway," declared Teatime brightly, "I think it's time we packed our luggage and made a move. I think we should go and take a look at the crime scene, so to speak. What say we go and have a look around Baron Samedi's?"

Episode 16

Harold stared up at the bathroom ceiling, marvelling at the rather bizarre seashells-spiderwebs-canada geese repeating decorative motif running around the edges. He wanted to slide down under the water and fully immerse himself, just to see what it felt like. Needing no oxygen for respiration, he could submerge himself for as long as he liked. Teatime wanted to tell him something, though, so he had to content himself with floating in the hot scented water, deliciously defying gravity.

"You're probably wondering," Teatime began, "why your father, after leaving you in peace these many millennia, has suddenly seemed to take an interest in your education."

"I wish he hadn't," replied Harold, reaching out to fiddle with some distinctly modern-looking controls on the side of the bath. "Hey, I wonder what these do." He turned a gold-plated knob (the initials RD were engraved on it) and the water began to bubble energetically.

"Oh! Wow! A fizzy bath!"

"It's a jacuzzi," sighed Teatime, "Now do pay attention, old sock, this is important."

"OK, OK," sighed Harold, turning it off, "Sorry, you were saying?"

"There's something strange going on up here on the Brightside."

"Only one thing?" laughed Harold, "Only I could name at least -"

"Yes, yes, very funny," interrupted Teatime, "The thing is: demons are disappearing."

"Really?" Harold replied, "I bet those OGS guys are responsible, they seem pretty keen to get rid of our kind."

"No," contradicted Teatime, "It's not OGS. They can send you back to the Basement, alright, but this is different."

Harold sat up a bit and began paying attention properly. This was getting interesting.

"Different, how?"

"Well, as I said, demons are disappearing, and have been for a while. Baron Samedi is one. The demon that those frightful OGS goons that nabbed you were going after is another, and there are at least three others before that. Your father is very concerned"

"How do we know they've actually disappeared?" Harold asked, "It's not like we all keep in touch on Facebook or anything, is it?"

"Your father always knows where his children are, as you know – and he can't find Baron Samedi or the others anywhere."

This was shocking news indeed, unheard of.

"So where do I come in?" asked Harold. "I was told to come here and ensnare souls. I got one, you know? A young film star, I think she was - Lolita LaChaise. Signed up soooo easily...."

"Yes, yes, well done and all that, old bean," said Teatime dismissively, "But the real reason you're here," said Teatime, "Is to help me find out what's happening."

"Me?" Harold laughed, "Help you? That's rich, when all I seem to do is blunder straight into trouble at the first opportunity: first I manage to antagonise Baron Samedi, then get grabbed by OGS. I'm not sure that's the kind of help you need."

"I daresay we can put the former down to inexperience and the latter down to just plain bad luck." said Teatime, soothingly, "Who could have known that an OGS Spotter would just happen to be hanging around the railway station as you came through. The odds against that were pretty enormous."

"Even so," said Harold, "I don't have much real knowledge of how this place works."

"No," agreed Teatime, "But you look like a human so you can go wherever humans go. I can't wander around on my own: humans don't take kindly to animals running about the place. But if I'm with a 'human' I can be his cute pet monkey. D'you see?"

"Aaah, right!" cried Harold, "So you'll be like a detective, a bloodhound on the scent and I'll be your faithful assistant! Oh, now this could be interesting! We could have secret codes like come with me to the Casbah or something!" This looked to be way more fun than trying to get humans to turn away from the Light – as if they needed any help from him to do that, anyway.

Teatime rolled his eyes. It was going to be a long mission.