Solace & Grief (15 page)

Still, she allowed herself to participate in the tests, and despite all her concerns and preoccupation, found them enjoyable, if only because they were a welcome and much-needed distraction. For the first time, she saw Manx turn into a cat. It was, as Jess put it, smiling only a little, interesting. Up until then, only Electra had witnessed the transformation. Despite Manx's earlier complaints about his lack of ferocity, Solace could understand why strangers would be scared of him on sight, especially when he arched his back, hissed and threatened to pounce. (Although in Evan's case, Manx actually
did
pounce, and once he'd turned back into a person, several minutes were spent attempting to explain exactly why Evan had smelled, to a cat, delicious.) If nothing else, the sheer incongruity of a short-haired, odd-eyed, red-yellowmarmalade house cat the size of a tiger was enough to send anyone into shock. It was just that, for someone who knew what was going on and was in a position to remain objective, Manx's high-pitched meow was ridiculous.

‘Look,’ he said, only a little cross when questioned about it. ‘If I –
it
– could roar, it wouldn't I wouldn't –
be
a damn cat, would I? Anyway, male cats always have higher meows than females. Everyone knows that.’

‘Or maybe it's just the neutered ones,’ muttered Evan, who was sore from being pounced on and resentful of being called delicious by someone who was, firstly, big enough when cat-shaped to eat him, and secondly, male.

Solace passed through the rest of the proceedings in two minds. One part of her smiled, joked and chatted, responding appropriately and speaking at all the right junctures. The other half crouched in the back of her memories, picking over her recent experiences with a fine-toothed comb for anything that stood out as an anomaly. Such dual concentration was, however, difficult to maintain, and when one of Lukin's offsiders, a cheerful older woman with a lazy eye, announced the need to collect blood samples, a chill ran down her spine. She wanted to warn her friends and flee back into the Galleries Victoria, but the Vampire Cynic intervened.
Think! You escaped from the faceless man, but if Lukin's in league with him, then saying so now would be extremely foolish. On the other hand, why go to all that trouble to steal your blood when he could've just asked for it now, without suspicion? No
,
she thought, wincing as a fresh needle probed her undamaged arm.
There's something bigger going on, and you're caught in the middle of it. Wait and see
.

When Lukin finally informed them that everything had gone marvellously, and that they could pick up the results at a time to be specified later – yes, he'd be sure to send them word, no need to worry at all, and here's your money – Solace barely blinked. As promised, the tests had been straightforward, taking into account their Tricks, reflexes, movement, range, family medical histories, and presumably, blood. Not counting Solace's incident at the threshold, everything had taken slightly less than two hours, after which time, despite her distraction, she could safely claim to know her friends much better than before. Between them, they'd read minds, told the future, changed shape, summoned lost objects, and in Solace's case, put a stranger in thrall. And yet she'd deliberately held back, too, not just about her newfound gift with languages, but in her displays of strength and speed. The others had still been impressed, of course, especially when she'd lifted Manx above her head, but even without consulting the Vampire Cynic, she knew this was small fry. On top of everything else, this observation – though true – left her feeling guilty.

The return journey was not as strange as it might've been. Instead of leaving through the weird, circular portal, Lukin showed them out through an actual door, which opened handily into a storage cupboard on the second floor of the Galleries. As they walked, Solace thought very hard about what she would tell the others when they reached the warehouse: apart from the mystery of the faceless man, the secret of Sharpsoft was rubbing her conscience raw, as though she'd donned their conversation like a hair shirt. Steeling herself, she resolved to be truthful.

And so she was. She told them about meeting Sharpsoft, and about the book and bell. She told them what Glide knew, and what he didn't know she knew, and about her sudden, inexplicable gift with languages. She told them what had happened in the dungeon – or at least, what she
thought
had happened – and about the faceless man, and that she was sorry, so very sorry, for putting them in danger, assuming there was any. Her friends asked a few questions, but otherwise remained silent. Electra chewed her fingernails. Jess drank the narrative down with wide blue eyes, while Evan's lit up at every mention of Sharpsoft. Manx remained calm, his manner that of a cat observing the world – relaxed, with no surprise for even the strangest things. And suddenly, despite her guilt and fumbled storytelling, she was done.

‘Sorry,’ Solace concluded, repeating herself. She sighed, rubbing her eyes. ‘I should've explained this earlier. Told
anyone
. Told someone. I don't know. I suppose I'm just not used to having anyone to tell.’

Throughout her confession, she'd been standing in the centre of the lounge room, speaking as from an impromptu pulpit. Now, wordless, she collapsed into the nearest beanbag, awaiting judgement. For a moment, all that could be heard was the sibilant shifting of its polystyrene innards. Then Manx leaned across from the nearby lounge to give her a peck on the cheek.

‘You're an idiot,’ he said, fondly. ‘But we forgive you.’

Having been braced for censure, forgiveness took Solace aback.

‘Really?’

‘Really,’ said Jess. She swapped a glance with Evan, who grinned, and another with Electra, who pulled a face in friendly reprimand. ‘The world is weird and wonderful, and full of faceless men. Know thine enemy.’

Solace blushed, uncertain of where to look, and eventually managed to speak. ‘While I was out of it, where was Lukin? He didn't… vanish, did he? He was there?’

Jess nodded. ‘Yes, but from our perspective, so were you. Either way, he let us go. He was walking and talking when you fell, not even slightly vague. Well,’ she amended, ‘no more than he was at the Town Hall, anyway.’

Solace exhaled heavily, but didn't raise her eyes. ‘What do you think we should do?’

‘Nothing, for now.’ Manx reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘There's a lot of weird shit going on, and none of it random. Whoever's behind this – Sharpsoft, Lukin, whoever – they've got the drop on us. They have an agenda: we don't. They have a plan: we're in it, but how? Why? We're being strung along, but this isn't something we chose. It started when we were born this way, and it's not going to end until we understand exactly what that means – to them, and for ourselves.’

He breathed in deeply and spoke, not just to Solace, but to everyone. ‘Imagine we turned our backs on the past few days. Even if Lukin left us alone, if Sharpsoft never came back, the world is still bigger than us. There are other Rare out there – walking, plotting, scheming, living – and sooner or later, we're going to meet them. I love going out: God only knows, I love watching Evan marinate himself like a Christmas turkey for my amusement –’

‘Hey!’

‘– but some day, that won't be enough. Maybe Electra will meet another mob, or someone will take a pot shot at the giant house cat. Maybe Jess will see something we can't run from. Or maybe we'll just get older, sadder, stranger, so wrapped up in our own mad secrets that we turn into paranoid loonies. We can't keep sailing blind, three sheets to the wind, and hope to find safe harbour. We need to know.
I
need to know. And this might be our only shot.’

Cautiously, Solace raised her eyes. She smiled. ‘At least whoever-it-is seems to want me alive, albeit minus some blood. That's the good news. I'm more concerned with the bad.’

‘Which is?’

‘That someone seems to be interested in me, personally. With a vengeance. A crazy, kinda-poetic-butnonetheless-creepy vengeance.’

‘Has anyone ever told you,’ Evan said, ‘that you're not very good at offering comfort? That the golden rule is to give the bad news
first
, then finish on a high note? And Manx, dude: what are you, the prizewinning editor of
Doomsayers Weekly
? Lighten up! I mean, okay, yes, there's a dungeon under Hyde Park, but it's not like Lukin locked us up in it. We filled out some surveys, earned some money, spoke to some guys – that's it. We're cool as Zaphod Beeblebrox, and I say that with the deepest respect for Douglas Adams.’ At Electra's eloquently arched eyebrow, he shrugged. ‘Just trying to keep things in perspective. No harm, no foul.’

‘At least if it
is
Lukin, we're no worse off than before.’ Solace paused, rubbing her arm. ‘Not
too
much, anyway.’

Electra sighed, nodding. ‘Then I guess we're just passing time. Same as always.’ Distractedly, she flicked a hangnail. ‘Any ideas? I could really use a diversion, provided I don't actually have to get up. I'm pretty drained.’

A sudden gleam came into Manx's mismatched eyes. Almost without realising the connection, Solace found herself thinking of the cat's-eye lights on a dark road, glittering briefly like beads of amber before winking into the night.

‘We could always take Solace tripwalking.’

The words were unfamiliar. Solace's brow furrowed. ‘What?’

Evan smiled, clearly liking the idea. ‘It's – something Laine taught us – well, more like something she has access to, really. There's this drink –’

‘Nepenthe,’ Jess supplied.

‘Called nepenthe,’ Evan confirmed. ‘Anyway, it has a pretty interesting effect on anyone with a Trick.’

‘Like a drug?’ Solace frowned, remembering Annamaria's early days at the group home. Evan looked at Manx, who shook his head.

‘Only in the alcoholic sense. It's like liquid prophecy, or prophecy's bastard cousin. As you drink, you see things in real-time – maybe it's happening in another country, another room or three streets away, but it's true. You trip, in a way. Your mind goes walking. Very shamanic.’

‘It's alcohol,’ Jess supplied, helpfully. ‘And also, as a by-product, prophetic. Sort of.’

‘Right,’ said Solace, grinning. ‘Just so you know, that made absolutely no sense. But what with dungeons and all, it's been that sort of a day, so I'm in.’ She glanced sideways. ‘Assuming Electra agrees?’

‘Fine by me!’ she said.

‘
Ex
-cellent!’ Solace steepled her fingers. ‘So, then – what do we do next?’

‘We find a phone,’ said Evan, standing. ‘And we call Laine.’

In the end, however, it wasn't Laine who arrived, but Phoebe, bearing both the promised nepenthe and a message.

‘She says to go ahead,’ Phoebe relayed, ‘but be ready for houseguests later. Party guests. She's rounding up the others. As payment.’

‘Fair enough.’ Manx accepted the blue-green bottle, studying the contents with admiration. ‘I wonder where she gets this stuff?’

‘Don't we all?’ Jess asked.

As Electra dug around in the kitchen for some glasses, Solace made herself comfortable on the floor, watching with amusement as Evan draped himself strategically beside Phoebe. Despite their previous intimacy at the Gadfly and Phoebe's protestations of disinterest, the pair persisted in circling one another like a couple of courteous crows, neither one willing to broach the subject of actual togetherness. Thinking of it made Solace smile.
Silly
.

‘Room for one more?’

Startled, Solace looked up in time to see Glide alighting the stairs, smiling the same sleepy, secretive smile he'd worn earlier that morning. His presence made her heart speed up alarmingly, so that she twisted her hands together to keep from leaping up. Inwardly, she gulped.

‘Sure,’ she managed, more calmly than she felt.

‘Another cup, Lex?’ Jess called out coolly. Flipping her gaze from Glide to Solace and back again, the seer tilted her chin; a sign of aloof permission. Blushing deeply, Solace made to speak, but Jess flicked her fingers dismissively.

‘Never mind,’ she sighed, managing a half-smile. ‘It wasn't meant to be.’

‘And you should know,’ quipped Evan, earning himself a sisterly smack to the head. ‘Ow!’

Having located an ancient set of sake cups, Electra began laying them out in a semicircle on the lounge room floor, forcing Evan and Phoebe to relocate to ground level. Manx seated himself across from Solace, while Jess dropped gracefully between her and Phoebe. That left Electra, who took the place to Manx's left, and Glide, who made a show of studying the circle before moving casually to fill the remaining gap between Solace and Electra. As he sat, the skin of his arm brushed Solace's. She shivered.

Manx was granted the honour of pouring – the tripwalk had, after all, been his idea. Uncorked, the nepenthe smelled glorious, a commingling of spice, flowers and fresh rain that seemed to fill the whole room, so that if Solace closed her eyes, she could imagine she was outdoors on a summer afternoon, the air thick with bees and warm sun. Even the skylight seemed clearer: abruptly, shafts of dappled, reddish light came lancing down from overhead, picking up threads of crimson and russet, amber and gold in their tawdry furnishings, until their small circle was suffused with a rosy, welcoming glow. Breathing deeply, Solace ran her fingers over the patterned rim of her cup, marvelling at the deep, burnished umber of the nepenthe, and at the strange, miraculous pleasures her new life held.