In Your Dreams (20 page)

Paul thought about that. ‘A bastard,' he said.

‘Exactly. You just did something that'd mean unbearable lasting pain for those who love you most. You put saving the world from some nebulous evil overlord, who's probably so crazy or so thick he'd have blown himself up anyway if only he'd been left alone, above the feelings of the people you owe most to, because they loved you. You thought more of saving a poor lost kitty stuck up a rickety tree than ruining the lives of everybody who ought to matter most to you. Are you a good man, or are you a reckless little shit? Rhetorical question,' Benny said, ‘because there can only be one answer. Which is why,' he went on, ‘Cas Suslowicz can't come and rescue us, because he's got an invalid sister who depends on him; and Theo van Spee's got children and grandchildren, and Countess Judy's got a couple of dozen ex-husbands who'd self-destruct if anything happened to her, and even Dennis Tanner's got a mother. But the three of us—' He laughed suddenly. ‘Us three sad bastards. Ricky Wurmtoter's an orphan, and you can imagine why he has problems with lasting relationships. I've outlived all my relatives who were on speaking terms with me by a couple of centuries. And you – well, you don't need me to tell you. At your interview, the moment they set eyes on you, they knew. Because who the hell would ever be upset if you went off one day and never came back?'

It occurred to Paul to wonder whether the small child was somewhere in the cell with him, in the shadows where she couldn't be seen, grinning evilly and mouthing,
Told you so
. It'd be a pity if she wasn't, and missed all the fun. ‘Right,' he said quietly. ‘I think I see what you're getting at. But you're wrong.'

‘Really? You think so?'

‘Yes,' Paul said firmly, ‘I do. All right, Sophie may have dumped me, and she never cared about me anyway. And my mum and dad went off to Florida, and they never had much time for me, and— But that still doesn't mean they don't love me; I mean, don't love me
at all
. After all, I'm their son. And if anything happened to me—'

He wondered if he'd just said something funny; an unintentional pun, maybe
son
was the Dwarvish word for turnip or something. ‘I'm sorry,' Benny said, ‘didn't mean to burst out laughing like that, I guess the stress is getting to me or something. But obviously you don't know, do you?'

Paul sighed. Not again. ‘Apparently not,' he said. ‘What is it this time?'

‘Oh for – well, can't do any more harm, I suppose. Like, it's not as if either of us is ever going to get out of here, and pretty soon we'll have other things on our minds beside the fact that—' Paul waited while Benny sorted out his train of thought. ‘What I mean to say is, if there was any chance that we'd escape and go on to lead normal, happy lives, then I wouldn't tell you this, because it'd screw you up permanently. But since we're irretrievably fucked in any case, you might as well know. To cut a long story—'

But Paul wasn't listening. ‘Shut up,' he snapped. ‘Please,' he added, remembering his manners. ‘There, can you hear it?'

‘Hear what?'

‘Sort of panting, snuffling noise.'

‘Oh. I assumed that was you.'

Couldn't be bothered replying to that. ‘It's the dog,' Paul said. ‘The little dog with the tartan flea-collar.' He could feel the grin flooding across his face. ‘They're letting us go—'

‘Doubt it,' Benny said, but Paul was down on his hands and knees, feeling for the source of the noise. He wasn't quite sure how it was supposed to work; would the dog open a door for them or lead them to the exit, or did he have to grab hold of it, or what? But hope, the one thing he'd felt sure he'd never feel again, was sloshing about inside him like too much cherryade. If only he could find the dog—

He found something, but he was pretty sure it wasn't the dog. Then someone slapped his face, very hard.

‘Oh,' he said. ‘Sorry.'

Then someone called him something in German. He didn't have to be a linguist to get the general meaning.

‘Monika?' he said. ‘Is that you?'

‘
Ja
. And if you do not take your hand away
now
, I will—'

‘Oh.' He shoved his hand behind his back, where he devoutly hoped it'd be out of the way.

‘Monika, thank God. Have you come to rescue us?'

Silence.

‘Oh,' Paul said again.

‘It was my intention to rescue you,' Monika said stiffly. ‘However, I do not think I have succeeded. I think I have been captured too.'

It didn't help that Benny started roaring with laughter. It was too dark to see to kick him, however, so all Paul could do was hiss, ‘Shut up!' in what he hoped was the right direction. ‘Sorry,' he went on, now thoroughly confused as to where everybody was. ‘It was really nice of you to try, though.'

‘It was nothing,' Monika replied. ‘It was my duty. I have failed.' And then the snuffling noise started again, and Paul realised that it hadn't been the dog; just Monika, crying.

Marvellous
, he thought.

‘Serves her right, though,' Benny was saying. ‘That's the other complete bitch about love. Not only does it really hurt when the irresponsible bastard goes off and gets killed, it makes people do really stupid, dangerous things, like trying to rescue the loved one from the dungeons of the Fey. Stupider than which,' he added savagely, ‘it's impossible to get, outside of a general election.'

For a moment, Paul didn't understand at all. It didn't make sense. For one thing, Monika was a
car
. ‘You mean,' he said, in a rather wobbly voice, ‘you came here just to try and save—'

‘
Ja
. What else could I do?' Snuffle, whimper. ‘I could not just leave him here.'

‘Monika—' Paul started to say, and then the incongruous pronoun hit him like a meteorite. Unless, of course, she'd been talking to Benny, in which case –
Fuck total darkness
, he thought bitterly,
it makes everything so bloody complicated.

‘And now,' Monika went on, ‘it turns out that he is not even here. That is correct, yes?' she added.

‘Um,' Paul said. ‘Who do you mean?'

A snort from the middle distance. ‘Ricky Wurmtoter, you clown,' Benny said. ‘You don't think she came all this way just to keep you company, do you?'

Well no
, Paul thought,
I suppose I didn't. Not in the part of my mind that deals with reality and stuff.
‘Mr Wurmtoter,' he repeated. ‘He's your boyfriend.'

Howl of outrage, with a pronounced German accent. ‘He is not my boyfriend. He is my brother.'

Shit
, Paul thought; and he wanted someone to blame, since it looked like he was now doomed to spend all eternity in a small, dark place with someone he'd mortally offended. The only person he could think of to blame was Ricky Wurmtoter, for not having mentioned it. But, he was forced to admit, it wasn't the sort of thing that'd crop up in casual conversation:
Oh and by the way, my sister's a two-door hatchback.
His nerves were now so thoroughly jangled he couldn't even apologise; and as far as Paul was concerned, saying ‘Sorry' came slightly more naturally than breathing. ‘I didn't know that,' he said.

‘It is quite all right,' Monika said, with a lack of sincerity you could've carved into a second Mount Rushmore. ‘He does not talk about it. He is ashamed. It is understandable.'

Paul, however, wasn't paying attention. Something about what he'd just learned was bothering him; a detail that didn't fit. He couldn't quite figure out what it was, but it was itching, a raspberry pip of doubt under his mind's dental plate.

‘Now perhaps,' Monika said, ‘we should leave.'

This time, Paul was sure that Benny was going to do himself an injury, he was laughing so much. ‘That's right,' he gasped between roars, ‘let's leave. Why didn't I think of that? It's such a good idea—'

‘Mr Shumway,' Monika said sternly, ‘your behaviour is most inappropriate. It is not good manners to laugh so, and besides, I do not see what is so amusing. This is a serious matter.'

That more or less finished it, as far as Benny was concerned; Paul could hear his boots clumping against the wall as he rolled on his back. ‘I do not think Mr Shumway is well,' Monika said, raising her voice so as to be heard. ‘Perhaps it is the stress. I think maybe that you and I should be the ones to deal with this problem.'

Paul was beginning to see the joke himself. ‘Fine by me,' he said. ‘What did you have in mind?'

Pause. ‘I was hoping you might have an idea,' Monika said awkwardly. ‘You are, after all, a qualified
Ubermensch
. Surely this situation was covered in your basic training.'

‘Not really,' Paul said. ‘Mostly, it was more to do with killing things and stuff. How about you?' he added hopefully. ‘I mean, someone told me you were a proper sorceress before you got – before you, um, joined the firm. What sort of thing did you do?'

‘My field of specialisation, you mean? Herbal remedies and ecological magic. In Germany, I was the leading authority on turning disused industrial facilities into flower-carpeted meadows.'

‘Oh,' Paul said. ‘I mean, that's really great, and I bet you were good at it. But before that: did you do all the trying-out-in-various-departments thing?'

‘
Ja.
I received vocational training in alchemical transformation, intermediate healing and maintenance and repair of electrical and mechanical appliances. Also, I have an international baccalaureate in—'

‘Fine,' Paul said. ‘So, nothing that's going to be any help at all. In that case, we're screwed.'

‘I can make a light,' Monika added hopefully.

‘What? Right, that's good.'

‘You would like me to make a light now?'

‘
Yes.
'

He heard her mutter something; then the shock of the burning amber glow made him feel dizzy, and he had to shut his eyes and look away. When he turned back, however, there was only a small glow, as if someone had lit a match.

‘That's it?' Paul asked.

At least now he could see Monika nod. ‘The darkness in this room, it is very
dicht
; very dense,' she amended, ‘or maybe tight, I am not sure which is the best word. It takes a very great effort—' Then she yelped, as though the notional match had burned her fingers, and the light went out. ‘I am sorry,' she said.

‘It's all right,' Paul said. ‘You did fine, really.'

‘Maybe in an hour, I can try again—'

‘No, really.' No point, after all; the little pool of light had shown him nothing except her face, pale and drawn, and alarmingly worried. He'd suspected ever since he'd found himself in the cell that there was rather more to the darkness there than a simple absence of light. He could almost feel the pressure of it on his skin. ‘Like I said,' he went on, ‘we're screwed.'

Pause. ‘You do not know how to proceed?'

‘No.' He laughed. ‘Well, that's not true, actually, I know exactly what to do. All it'd take would be for me to find the wall, by feel, and then get out the Acme Portable Door and set it up, and then we could just walk out of here back to 70 St Mary Axe. Only, I haven't got it any more.'

Silence. ‘That,' Monika said, ‘is unfortunate.'

‘Yes,' Paul replied.

‘This door – do you know where it is?'

‘Sort of. I lent it to—' He stopped suddenly, before he could finish the sentence.
I lent it to your brother
; your brother who's still missing, presumed captured. Fat lot of good the Door did him, then. ‘Anyway,' he said, ‘we can't use it.' A surge of panic rose inside him, but he managed to fend it off. ‘Benny,' he said, ‘Mr Shumway. Any ideas?'

Benny giggled. ‘Nope,' he said. ‘Well, one. We can stay here till we die of old age, unless they aren't planning on feeding us. In which case, we'll be out of here in just over a week.'

Paul didn't follow. ‘You mean, we slim down until we can crawl between the bars or something?'

‘I was more thinking of starving to death,' Benny replied. ‘But they'll feed us, or they've put some hex on this place so we don't need to eat. Letting us starve to death would be downright humanitarian, far as they're concerned. Which describes them pretty well, of course.'

‘Really?'

‘Oh yes. Great humanitarians, the Fey. Like, if you eat vegetables, you're a vegetarian. If you eat—'

‘Mr Carpenter,' Monika interrupted. ‘Who did you lend the Portable Door to?'

Panic. ‘Um, I can't quite remember offhand. It was someone at the office—'

‘Did you lend it to my brother?'

Fuck
, Paul thought. ‘Yes.'

‘Ah. Then it is all right. If Dietrich has the Door, he will have escaped, which explains why he is not here. Once he finds out that we have come here, he will return and rescue us. So there is nothing to worry about.' She sounded perfectly calm, as though she was holding a signed contract with God's signature on it. ‘We will wait for Dietrich to arrive, and everything will be fine.'

At that, Benny Shumway started howling like a wolf. ‘Ignore him,' Paul said through gritted teeth (he'd never gritted his teeth before; it was actually a lot easier than he'd imagined). ‘I'm sure you're right. Sooner or later—'

‘Ah,' Monika interrupted. ‘That will be him now.'

Benny broke off in mid-howl. Sure enough, something was happening; they could all hear a very faint buzzing noise, high and light and metallic, like an elven dentist's drill at the end of a long corridor.

‘What the hell is that?' Benny muttered. Paul and Monika shushed him simultaneously. The sound was definitely getting gradually louder, and now there was another noise as well: the muffled yapping of a small, angry dog.