Bag of Weasels. Chapter 23

Now when I stepped up close to Flea and turned to face the oncoming, I was as surprised as anyone, none more so than Flea himself who stared at me as if I'd slapped him.
"Wait a minute! I shouted, "Wait! Stop!
The rat-pack tide slowed perceptibly, but not without plenty of shouting, stamping and "Fuck off Sunny.
"What are you doing? asked Ralph, so only I could hear.
"You have to let him go! I blurted, to a louder chorus of fuck offs and a closing in of the ranks.
"Step aside, Sunny, Ralph warned me, "I'm telling you as a friend, but my legs wouldn't take me back and as Didgy and Doinky homed in on Flea I stepped in their way. They both pulled up a nose away, flushed and panting, eyes wide.
"Let him go? hissed Didgy, "What's wrong with you? Look at the state of Doinky, look what he's done to him. If he won't come across and return what he's nicked, and be sorry for it, he'll get what's coming and not before time. We like you Sunny, both of us, and we know you're an odd one. But I'm not gonna argue over this one, so get out of the way.
"I can't.
The sky turned black and the crowd showed its teeth ' we were reverting to fragments. A half-brick smacked off my shoulder.
"Last chance Sunny, and then it's all over between us. You'll get it too if you stay in the way. His words were hard but Didgy's eyes were pleading, and Ralph behind me told me straight: "This is it Sunny, I'm gonna throw him in, for your sake as much as anyone's.
And with that, he started swinging Flea around like a toy, getting the speed up to launch him. Didgy and Doinky backed away to place themselves well for his landing.
I threw myself at Flea and latched onto him like a tic, wrapping myself round tight. Now we were too heavy a load for Ralph, and he was loathe to throw me anyway, so we slowed up and bounced hard along the ground. Ralph didn't relinquish his grip and nor did I.
"Well, that's it, said Ralph sighing, "I can't chuck you both, but I can't stop them all either. His time's up Sunny, they're coming to get him. There's nothing me and you can do, and I still don't know why you'd want to. You'd better get yourself clear.
I'd done what I could, except tell what I knew; I was exhausted. As I lay on the ground looking up at Ralph, my head took a turn: he was changing in front of me. I saw flames come out of his head, his form darkening into silhouette. His flaming aspect spread out so I could not see beyond it, and I gazed up awe-struck and cowed by his newfound countenance.
An Age passed, and Didgy and Doinky and the horde were absorbed into peripheral blackness. Even Flea was gone from this moment. I waited for some revelation.
The heat was unbearable, and Ralph obviously thought so too; he jerked aside but the flames remained, leaping up from a bundle of cloth-wrapped sticks held up high by the newly-upright fresh-on-the-scene Banksy, frowning down on me and Flea.
I was still stunned by my disappeared vision of St Ralph With Halo, and Flea stayed crouched like a trapped rat. She waved the torch over us, got closer for a better look
"Not like you to get involved, is it Sunny? She smiled knowingly. She held out her hand and pulled me to my feet. She left Flea.
The horde was nearly upon us but its rat-pack mentality was abating ' Banksy had cast another of her spells, and now she had henchmen and gophers milling around at her back.
"Pick him up, Ralph, she said, nodding in Flea's direction. Ralph leaned down and grabbed him by the scruff but Flea wouldn't uncoil himself. Ralph let him stay down, but kept a firm grip. Banksy seemed satisfied with that, and turned to face the horde.
"I hear there's been some thievery, and calls for retribution. Your gander's up, by all accounts, baying for blood. How am I doing so far, me dears?
There was a lot of shuffling and coughing, half 'hearted blaming and finger-pointing, but the lynch mob had dissolved itself.
She turned to Flea.
"What's it all about then, Flea
"I ain't gonna waste me breath, he replied from his place on the floor, "I'm through trying to tell them. They've made their minds up anyway.
She studied him for a moment, squinting, sticking out her bottom lip, making some private judgement. She reached a decision and turned to me, speaking soft so only I should hear.
"This is intriguing, isn't it Sunny, you jumping in against the odds. Against your deeper nature, you might say. Hmm?
She held my gaze for an uncomfortable moment, and I was convinced she'd glimpsed my secret, my part in all this. She knew.
She stepped up close, handing her torch to a nearby loyal vagabond.
"You do what you have to, Sunny, my dear. And go where you have to go. It's alright. She winked, touched my arm. Then louder she said, "But we'll have to clear this up though, won't we?
And all the time, Flea was in earshot, listening carefully despite his predicament. Puzzled by what he was hearing, he looked from Banksy to me and back again.
"This is a lull in the storm, that's all. They'll want some sort of justice, or they'll fall upon him. The energy is there, but we must'nt indulge it, for that would be a disaster, we may as well all go back to where we came from, living our lives in dark corners, waiting for the next bad thing to happen. Now, in light of that, what do you say; what should befall the little man? You can have your say.
I was squirming under her attention. She was playing with me, I was sure, but I had an answer to her question.
"Chuck him out of here.
"Exile, you mean? Banished from the land?
"If you like. He'll bolt, given the chance. He won't come back. He's not stupid.
"Well said. Well chosen. She smiled at me, pleased with my answer, like I'd got something right.
Flea was still looking from me to her, biting his lip to keep from speaking.
Banksy took back her torch, turned back to face her flock.
"Now you listen here my lovelies, I have a proposition.