The Trial of Dr Fautus

  The Trial Of Dr. Faustus

  By

  Martin Allen

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 Martin Allen

  All Rights Reserved

  Thanks to:

  My mother, for proofreading all the novels so far in the Phoenix series and most of my short stories, and hopefully many more to come.

  Fiona Skye, who asked for submissions based on her work for an anthology. This story was one of them. Even though the anthology did not materialise she did much to iron out various plot holes and wrinkles. While the story was originally set in her "Night of Revelations" universe I have now edited this story arc out so that it can stand alone. It should not be forgotten that it is her enthralling works that served as the inspiration for this (and if you don't like this story then the fault, dear reader, is mine). You can find her works via the hyperlink below, and I can't recommend them highly enough:

  Fiona Skye

  To all who have or will reviewed my work, whether it be a glowing review or not.

  ……and lastly to all those who read this and enjoy it.

  The Brawley Police Department building showed a few lit windows, but the majority were dim. It was three thirty in the morning; the peak time for criminal activity had passed and the drunks and brawlers were safely contained within. It had been rebuilt after a vengeful sorcerer had levelled it in the Near-Zombie Apocalypse, where the existence of Supernatural beings had been revealed to the world. It now had a number of extra features, due to the possibility of interring a Supernatural. The bars were a new alloy containing silver and contained micro bubbles of garlic essence. These were but a few of the refinements to the previous design, which had been incorporated into the new fabrication. The car park, however, required little redesign being little more than a flat patch of tarmac next to the building.

  In an otherwise unremarkable patch of air above that same patch of tarmac, a bright spot of red light appeared glowing in mid-air. If there had been but a surface for a laser sight to reflect off one would assume there was a hidden gunman awaiting a target. The spot of luminescence grew lengthwise as though a knife cut the very air revealing the glowing red flesh beneath the night. The nearby cars of the police officers glowed in the ethereal fires. A hand pushed its way clear of the glowing line followed swiftly by the corresponding arm. After grasping helplessly at the air the hand clenched into a fist and the remainder of the body was pushed forth from the glowing line, which promptly disappeared the way it had arrived. The body, that of a naked middle aged man staggered across the car park as though not sure of the purpose and function of legs. Wild frantic movements failed to check the momentum of the expulsion from the light and the mans toe connected with the side of a flower bed and his wild perambulations increased in their ferocity. He no longer stayed in one axis seeking to halt his forward motion; he now rotated wildly, his balance beyond even his hope let alone his grasp.

  The ambulance driver, tired from a long shift and the hectic chase to what had turned out to be a hoax call could barely believe his eyes as a nude potbellied man stumbled out of a rosebush and into the path of his vehicle. His training and his years of experience kicked in as he swerved to avoid the sudden obstruction. Thankfully, he had not been on his way to a call-out as he would not have been able to avoid the collision. Still, at least his trip had not been entirely wasted for the man now lying prostrate on the ground by the cab of his ambulance certainly needed help.

  The shrill beep of the mobile phone woke Mariah Beck, the Ocelot part of her wanting to bat the offending gadget across the room to a violent end. Thankfully, it had not been a full moon and she remained in control of her instincts, but as she focused on the time display of her alarm clock, she promised that if this wasn’t an emergency someone was going to die.

  “Mariah, it’s Andy Parker here, sorry to bother you so late but we have a rather strange situation at the hospital. You seem to be the closest we have to a named next of kin. One of our drivers picked up a naked middle-aged man who practically walked in front of his ambulance. There seems to be nothing physically wrong with him but all he seems able to say is your name ‘Mariah Beck’ repeatedly. I wouldn’t normally bother you with this, as it could just be a mix of drugs and a transformation but a cop says he saw the man walk out of a glowing line in the air. He’s clearly Supernatural, but this is out of my area of expertise. I don’t deal with other worlds and I’ve never known a Supernatural able to walk through glowing lines in the air. I’ve already told Steve, if there’s a new type of Supernatural he’ll need to know about it.”

  Mariah’s ears practically shot up, if it had been a full moon they would have. “I’m on my way,” she yelled into the phone as she struggled to free herself from the bed sheets her legs seemed to be inextricably tangled in. Ever since assisting Senator Challinor with the drafting of the Supernatural Rights Act all of the strange cases seemed to come to her practice, usually in the middle of the night.

  At the hospital the short middle aged man opened his eyes and slowly focussed on the occupants of the room. He glanced at the Doctor who was busy trying to shine a light into his eyes and his eyes passed over the oriental gentleman in the grey suit stood in the corner until they rested on a woman holding a grey Dictaphone. Her blonde-brown hair captured a hint of iridescent flame which mirrored her personality when angered, but the artistic sweep of her eyes denoted an ice cold calm that could be ever so much more damaging.

  “Mein Leibchen, du mußt Mariah Beck seined.” he exclaimed as he realised she was the only female in the room.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t speak German.” Mariah replied, hearing her name mentioned.

  “Apologies, my tongue is German and I forget to be using the English when excited I am getting.” He switched immediately to a flawed but understandable version of English. “I have been seeing you and your work with issues of Supernatural. I am as you say a big fan. I wish also to claim sanctuary, no that is wrong, asylum. My name is Dr Fautus and yes, I wish to claim political asylum.” He lay back with a small grin on his face as though he had recited some magic words.

  “It’s not that simple, for asylum you have to have been the victim of some mistreatment in your own country, and I’m fairly sure Germany has a pretty good human rights record.”

  “Ya, das ist richtig, I must be in victim of mistreatment, but it is not Germany I am resident. You must understand, I am Dr Fautus, I have sold my soul to Lucifer and I have from Hell escaped.”

  “He’s clearly nuts.” Steve Hawthorne, the local head of the Supernatural Law Enforcement Agency, or BSA growled through gritted teeth at Mariah.

  “I’m not saying he isn’t, but you’ve seen into the Nether-Realm, perhaps this stuff exists as well.” The ocelot wanted to come out but Mariah forced it back within aware of what the added aggression could do to the emotionally charged situation.

  “Oh most certainly, that is definitely the course of thought that would yield you to the correct answer in this situation.” came an English accented voice from the side of Mariah and Steve, and behind Dr Parker.

  They both attempted to answer the unsolicited comment at once, Mariah trying to say ‘Thank you’ in an exasperated voice and Steve yelling ‘and what do you know about it’ at a sharply dressed man in a black pin striped suit and a red tie. His hair was slicked back and the goatee was reminiscent of a 1940’s film star. Leaning against the wall of the hospital corridor he seemed totally at ease in the chaos he was causing as everyone did a double-take, wonderin
g from whence he had appeared. Casually examining his fingernails the stranger seemed oblivious to the service revolver pointed at his head.

  “Oh, do put your silly toy away.” He ordered Steve in a bored voice “It won’t do you any good, but happily I’m not here to do you any harm so you can all relax. I am simply here to collect some lost property and I shall be on my way.”

  “And. Who. The. Hell. Are. You?” Steve asked through gritted teeth painfully aware that anything, or anyone that could sneak up on three Supernaturals without their knowledge was something that should be treated with extreme caution.

  “Ah, perfect. Do you know how long I have been waiting for an opportunity to say this? Thank you my dear boy, you have positively made my century. Who the Hell am I? Ha! I am Mephistopheles, I… assume you have heard of me? We have done some sterling work in reducing the literacy levels of much of the world to pre-war levels, but I assume my small contribution to literature has not left the public consciousness?” Mephistopheles bowed in an exuberant manner reminiscent of an amateur stage actor introducing himself as such.

  Dr Parker motioned to Mariah and Steve and they huddled away from the once again preening Mephistopheles who affected not to notice their absence “Mephistopheles was the devil to whom Dr Faustus sold his soul. We performed the Christopher Marlowe play in Medical School.” He said with a shrug. “He reports directly to Lucifer and is a very shrewd negotiator. He’s also incredibly powerful. In Faustus’ deal, he agreed to give Faustus whatsoever knowledge he desired and give him access to an almost limitless level of magical power. He got to enjoy these powers for twenty-four years at the end of which Mephistopheles took Faustus’ body and soul to Hell in return. This is a little bit out of my pay grade and I have other patients to see to. I think I’ll leave this matter to you.” Dr Parker walked briskly off down the corridor.

  “I assume that the ‘lost property’ you referred to is the German man in that ward over there. Well, let me tell you buddy, we’re in America and it’s The Land of The Free. We’re not letting your little business in people trafficking go on any further. He stays right where he is, understand?” Mariah moved so she was sticking her face directly into that of Mephistopheles, a bad habit she had when she was arguing with someone and wanted to intimidate them.

  “Oh dear, you Americans, always so eager to go to law. You do realise Miss, that the contract was not signed under American jurisdiction and nor was it enforced in it. The legality or not of the contract is simply not for you, being neither an elected official or a justice, nor your country to determine. As an escapee from Hell he does not qualify as human and thus by necessity must be determined as property, I hold a valid bill of sale and thus any attempt to keep me from my possession may be deemed theft. Please move aside.” Mephistopheles moved to push past Mariah.

  Mariah could feel the concentrated malice of the devil have an adverse reaction on her, the Ocelot sensing the threat sought to move to the fore but this confrontation required more than just brute force. She pushed the silk suited devil back against the wall.

  “I hate to break it to you, but under sections 8 to 12 of the Supernatural Equal Rights Act as a previously human being until so effected by another Supernatural being, to whit, you, Dr Fautus is deemed to be a Category 1 Supernatural Being; and thus under section 1 of said Act, he is deemed to be human under the law; and that human has requested political asylum. He is not property in this country.” Mariah crossed her arms in a mute gesture of triumph.

  “I sense the soul of a fellow litigator.” A gleam lit up Mephistopheles’ eyes “Very well, at the expense of your soul, we shall have your trial. If I loose he is free to proceed with his existence as he wishes. Agreed?”

  “Mariah, NO!” Steve yelled as the fateful nod of Mariah’s head sealed the contract before she realised what she had in fact agreed to.

  “Acceptance by conduct.” Mephistopheles noted and promptly disappeared.

  “You made a wager with WHO?” Artax cried incredulously.

  “But you’re the Seneschal, and he hasn’t presented himself to you. Doesn’t that count as a breach of some kind of rule invalidating it?” pleaded Mariah.

  “I am a Vampire, you are a were-creature. We are in the grand scheme of things counted as the forces of darkness. Lucifer is the grand high master of all things truly evil to all things that are mildly naughty. Mephistopheles reports directly to Lucifer, he outranks me, he doesn’t have to report to anyone on this planet. He just appears and makes a very tempting offer and before you know it… whoosh.” Artax made a flying motion with his hand. “Your only hope is to get Dr, Faustus off scot free. The most high-profile soul purchase in the history of mankind, the one purchase that the contract went to Lucifer for his personal authorisation on the terms, and you, Mariah Beck, have the frustration of that contract as your only hope. Good luck.”

  “Aren’t there any vampire lawyers, they would have had centuries of experience?” asked Mariah, hopeful that her supernatural contacts could assist her, she had specialised in Equal Rights and Employment Law prior to the Near-Zombie Apocalypse.

  “A vampire lawyer? Joking aside, no, none that can help you. Creatures of darkness remember? That would count as a conflict of interest. Lucifer has got most of the Supernatural community sewn up in that particular technicality. You are on your own I’m afraid.” Artax stopped and looked around as though trying to remember something. “Hang-on. Maybe I’m looking at this wrong. Creatures of darkness can’t help you, but think flip-side. There isn’t just one side here. Now, most of the creatures of the light are either mute, too frivolous or too stuck up and busy guarding Heaven and its garden to be of any use, but there is one guy. He insisted on introducing himself to me even though he wasn’t Supernatural, said as his profession was so close to this world he would have felt wrong not coming. Weird little English priest he was, claimed to have been a Barrister, you know; an English attorney who was cross-qualified before he took holy orders. If there’s one lawyer in the area that could take on Mephistopheles its him. I’ll get him to the courtroom tomorrow.”

  “Wait, the trial’s tomorrow?” Mariah yelled, “that’s preposterous! We need time to prepare. He can’t just have a trial tomorrow there are procedures that have to be followed, notices have to be served.”. Mariah had not just studied and practised law but her father, before a car bomb had removed him from her life, had been a prolific Public Attorney and many of her happiest memories were him taking time to explain some intricacy of criminal procedure to help her with her law studies. She had been bored at the time, but since she had cried herself to sleep for a solid year she had come to treasure the fact he would always stop what he was doing to come to her assistance, no matter what.

  Beside a long line of bookshelves in Artax’s basement living quarters was an antique coffee table with some silk flowers in a tasteful arrangement. Being a vampire Seneschal Artax was unable to have normal flowers in his basement due to the lack of sunlight to nurture the plants. The coffee table began to vibrate violently shaking itself across the room to Mariah. The flower arrangement disappeared with a flash of smoke and in its place was an A4 manila envelope. Mariah reached out picked up the envelope and opened it, her nervousness was palpable and the smell of it carried the tension to her companion. Steve was still steadfastly holding to the idea that the two men were escaped lunatics. Were-creatures, vampires and fae was one thing but the eternal war between heaven and hell as well? He was not a believer in it showing up and engaging in cheap theatrics in hospital corridors. He had returned to the BSA to go through hospital reports and records in the hope that he could get the two men to leave his beat.

  “Dear Miss Beck,

  Pursuant to your exclamation, I refer you to Chapter 9 Section 5 subsection 25 of the contract of sale. “Any hearing relating to the legality of this contract of sale is to be held on the next working day after the escape of the vendor from the locale known as Hell. The requirements of notice of the hearing sha
ll be met by this contract signed 452 years prior to the hearing. As the question of when to escape is determined solely by the vendor then it is his responsibility to ensure directions are set prior to this point as notice of the hearing date has been duly served and received under the law of Wittenberg as evidenced by the signature at the bottom of this document.

  Yours Sincerely,

  Mephistopheles”

  Mariah screwed up the piece of paper and threw it into the fire.

  The courtroom was a hive of activity as reporters and assorted lawyers and onlookers fought to find a seat. Witnessing a trial with Hell as the petitioner would in all probability prove to be the trial of the century. As Mariah shoved her way to the front to take her seat she saw an grey-haired man sitting at the respondents table an oasis of clam in the maelstrom that was the remainder of the courtroom.

  “Miss Beck I presume?” The gentleman enquired as she took her seat next to him. “I am Father Dominic Page, at your service. I graduated with honours in Law from Cambridge and hope to be of some assistance in this matter.”

  “I hope so too.” muttered Mariah as she took her seat. “I assume Artax filled you in on what we are up against here?”