Chapter 22: Alone

Harrison Ford’s LA mansion was even more amazing than Johnny Depp’s. I was wobbly on my feet after being driven here in the boot of the Beckhams’ car, for which Harrison apologised profusely. The Beckhams had been dismissed, bickering. ‘Come inside,’ said Harrison, and took a few steps. I didn’t move. ‘I won’t bite,’ he added, his eyes twinkling. I couldn’t help smiling. Even though I knew these people were extra-terrestrial demons who wanted to destroy the world, it was hard to completely dissociate them from their public faces, and everyone a bit loves Harrison Ford. ‘Come on,’ he said again. Nodding at the well-guarded gate behind me, he added, ‘You really don’t have any choice.’

‘Are you going to kill me?’

‘We will never kill you, Mary Sue. You’ve been brainwashed by Depp and the others, so I don’t expect you to believe me straight away, but I’m here to help you come to terms with you are. Everything will be easier if you’re at least prepared to consider the possibility that I am on your side. Will you do that?’

‘No,’ I gulped. I had seen the Beckhams murder my friends.

‘You’re spunky,’ he smiled. ‘But believe me, you’re one of us, not one of them. Those people,’ his face wrinkled into a sneer of distaste, ‘they did not tell you the whole story. They didn’t show you what they’re really like. That’s why…’ he looked at me again, shivering in my bikini, in spite of the hot LA summer, and the mucky sweat from the boot of the car, and he stopped. ‘I’m so sorry, I’ve forgotten my manners.’ He clicked his fingers, and a bland-faced woman in neat grey slacks emerged behind him, seemingly from thin air. ‘Demeter, look after Miss Park. I will see her for dinner in an hour.’ Harrison Ford winked at me, and said, ‘Think about what I’ve said, that’s all. I’m sorry we can’t let you go, but as soon as you realise what those people are like, you’ll understand why we rescued you.’
***

An hour later, I was looking better than I’ve ever looked in my life. The efficient Demeter had whisked me into a beautiful wooden shower room which sprayed water with dizzying pressure from every wall, and from there into a walk-through closet that made me feel like I was entering Narnia. She picked out a blue and gold dress which made me look like Versace had designed something just for me. She was efficient without being cold, and perfect in the real sense, which includes being impossible to dislike.

Does this mean I was starting to wonder if Harrison Ford might be telling the truth? No. I was just in a daze. There was nothing I could do, and I had to stay alive until my friends came to rescue me. Johnny Depp was going to be crazy that the Beckhams had killed Vanessa, and he’d be out for revenge, and Johnny Depp was definitely one of the good guys. I was sure of this, even if, when I tried to lay out the concrete evidence, I emerged with not a lot. After all, he’d been in league with David Tennant, who murdered my husband (albeit he said my husband was a demon), and he’d whisked me away from the police (albeit he said that I wasn’t safe if the demons knew where I was). I only had Johnny Depp’s word for it that his side in this battle was the angels, and that Harrison Ford’s side was the demons. What if there were no goodies and no baddies? What was I supposed to do then? How was I supposed to choose which side to be on, if I really was the Chosen One, whatever that meant? I got a grip of myself, determined not to be bamboozled. Johnny, Vanessa and Ewan McGregor were the goodies, I was almost absolutely sure.

There was a soft knock on the door. Demeter entered with a DVD, put it in the machine, and said, ‘Mr Ford wanted you to watch this before dinner. He felt it would be helpful.’ Then she flashed a sudden, brilliant smile at me, a smile of complete happiness and welcome, and she said, ‘I’m SO glad we’ve found you at last, Mary Sue. I’m SO glad you’re safe from those bastards.’ And then she added, ‘You look beautiful.’ I really liked Demeter, and I found myself hoping she was deluded, rather than evil. I was nervous of watching the DVD, but I had no choice. Harrison Ford could obviously make me watch it if he wanted, and it was surely better to do it alone, where I could govern my reaction. It was probably something horrible, like them torturing people, so I knew what to expect if I didn’t do what they wanted. I clicked play.

The screen was grainy, as if it had been filmed with a furtive surveillance camera of some kind. On screen Johnny Depp and Ewan McGregor were eating in an obviously posh restaurant with the small red-haired woman who had helped me evade police protection.

‘So,’ said Johnny, ‘We finally know who she is: Mary Sue Park. Who’s dealing with her?’

‘The Teacher forbade it,’ said Ewan. ‘The Teacher knew who she was all along.’

‘But not now, surely!’ said Johnny. ‘Not know we know she’s married one of them! She’s too dangerous. We have to kill her.’ He turned to the red-haired woman, and said, ‘It’ll be you, won’t it?’

‘I hope so.’

‘We should never have let it get this far,’ said Johnny Depp. ‘If Mary Sue Park was sitting at this table, I’d strangle her with my bare hands.’ The red-haired woman agreed emphatically. Ewan McGregor nodded reluctantly.

I sat on the end of the bed, shattered.