And Close Your Eyes with Holy Dread

L.A. Woman Sunday afternoon
Drive thru your suburbs…

I kept my eyes shut as Albertz had suggested and listened to the screams of dying Pacific Quay vampires to a soundtrack of some song I swear I’d heard somewhere before.

Into your blues, into your blues, yeah
Into your blue-blue blues
Into your blues, oh, yeah!

‘Albertz, what’s happening? Where’s the music coming from?’ I cried, eyes still closed.
‘What music?’ shouted Albertz which struck me as odd.

I see your hair is burnin' hills are filled with fire
If they say I never loved you
You know they are a liar…

‘Oh you should see him move, Spiers. It’s beautiful. Like watching Nureyev at his peak only with a fucking great sword that lops off wings and heads. Keep your eyes shut though,’ shouted Albertz above the shrieks as metal sliced through meat and scraped off bone.
‘See who move?’ I called as I felt something wet hit my face and stick. I pulled it off and felt it soft and hairy in my hand, like a scalp.
‘It’s a scalp,’ said Albertz. ‘Thomas McGuigan’s I believe. No more covering up Chris Commons scandals for him by the looks of it.’

Drivin' down your freeways
Midnight alleys roam cops in cars, the topless bars
Never saw a woman...
So alone, so alone
So alone, so alone…

‘Albertz, you’ve got to tell me what’s happening? Who’s killing who? Where’s that infernal music coming from and more importantly, am I in any danger?’
‘Don’t open your eyes, Spiers, I’m warning you. It’s for your own good. This guy’s temperamental at the best of times, no one knows exactly whose side he’s on at any given moment but right now it seems he’s on our side. Fuck! You should’ve seen that one! Mark Daly’s head on a spike! Craig Whyte would have loved to have seen that! Oh my goodness, was that an elephant?’
‘Who? What guy? Elephants?’ I was becoming impatient now.
‘Well you lot call him Spring Heeled Jack for some reason, dunno where you got that one unless you thought the guy with the crickets was Jack Irvine?’
‘Well who else could it be?’ I asked as blood sprayed my face and the carnage continued with inhuman shrieks and the sound of talons tearing flesh and bared teeth being smashed by something blunt.

Motel money murder madness
Let's change the mood from glad to sadness…

And that was when I decided that I could keep my eyes shut no more. What with the sound of slaughter all around me, body parts and gore slapping off my face, noisy wings flapping above only to fall screeching to the ground and all the while, Albertz watched and gave an awe struck running commentary which made it sound like Spring Heeled Jack or whoever he was, was winning some glorious battle with the vampires of Pacific Quay CSC. So I opened my eyes and looked up.

He was beautiful. He seemed to hang in the air as if suspended by invisible wires and he held a sword in one hand and a spear in the other; now this was the vision of an angel. Albertz was right, his every move was like a dancer, carefully choreographed with light leaps and dazzling turns and as smooth as if he’d spent a life in zero gravity. In fact, his movement was like slow motion in real life as the BBC vampires lunged at him, clumsy and vulgar in their advances only for him to pirouette and lop off an arm or a wing or as in most cases, a head. His wondrously flowing blonde hair undulated in the air and his eyes burned golden with an intensity that could have made me weep with joy as I was taken back to those school days and remembered Coleridge, ‘Beware, beware! His flashing eyes, his floating hair.’ No wonder Albertz didn’t want me to watch, he wanted this vision all to himself, the selfish bastard!

The slaughter was ending, the last of the vampires falling at the beautiful one’s feet. He turned and gazed at me and crickets came swarming out of the crypt, in the doors and through the windows. They swirled and rose through the air as one, raising up the dust of the bodies of the Pacific Quay CSC and as the dust cleared, I knew who he was. There was no call for a name such as Spring Heeled Jack; the Scottish media couldn’t have been more wrong there but what’s new in that? The music continued and I realised what had been staring me in the face all this time.

Mr. Mojo Risin', Mr. Mojo Risin'
Mr. Mojo Risin', Mr. Mojo Risin'
Got to keep on risin'
Mr. Mojo Risin', Mr. Mojo Risin'
Mojo Risin', gotta Mojo Risin'
Mr. Mojo Risin', gotta keep on risin'…