Alex Verus Novels, Books 1-4 (9780698175952) (45 page)

“I didn’t give him anything.”

“Then why didn’t you tell him not to take it?”

“You think I’d be telling you this if he’d listened?”

I turned away from Luna and walked to the corner. There was a single window of frosted glass high on the wall and I stared up at it. “What does it do?” Luna asked from behind me.

“It’s called a monkey’s paw,” I said without turning around. “It grants wishes.”

“Wishes? You mean … anything?”

“Pretty close. It’s the most powerful item I’ve got.”

“Is there some kind of catch?”

“Of
course
there’s a catch. You don’t get anything like that for free. Trying to use that thing is
really
bad news.”

“How? I mean, do the wishes have a price or some-thing?”

“I don’t
know
, Luna, because no one who’s ever tried using the damn thing has been around afterwards to answer questions.” I turned to face her. “I want you to keep your distance from Martin as long as he’s got it.”

Luna paused. There were drops of water clinging to her hair and the sleeves and ankles of her clothes were still wet. “Wait. You just said that nobody’s …”

I was silent, and Luna went still. “You’re waiting for something to happen to him.”

“I’ll do what I can to make him give it up,” I said. “But as long as he has it, he’s a threat.”

“Until when? Until he’s dead?”

“Luna …”

“Why do I have to stay away?”

“Because he’s dangerous.”

“I don’t care if he’s dangerous.” I could see Luna was starting to get angry. “You said you weren’t going to keep me away anymore!”

“There’s nothing you can do to make it better and a lot of ways you could make it worse,” I said harshly. “He had your curse on him when he came today.”

As soon as I said it, I knew I shouldn’t have. Luna stared at me, then I saw understanding dawn in her eyes. “You think it’s my fault.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” I wished I hadn’t brought it up now but there was no use going back. “But it’s sure as hell not going to help if you stay nearby. The best thing you can do is keep your distance.”

“If this thing’s so bad why can’t I just talk to him?”

I sighed. “Because taking the monkey’s paw wasn’t the only stupid thing Martin did.”

“What?”

“He’s not waiting for us to finish. He walked out into the street thirty seconds ago.”

Luna looked in the direction of the shop, then back at me. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she said quietly, and now for the first time I knew she was really angry.

I stood my ground, meeting her gaze. “Because if Martin were the kind of person who’d listen to warnings, the monkey’s paw wouldn’t have picked him in the first place.”

Luna stared at me for a second longer, then in two quick steps was at the door. “Luna!” I said. “Wait!”

“Maybe you don’t care about him,” Luna said. “But I do.” She pulled the door open.

I started towards Luna, wanting to hold her back—and
stopped. To my eyes, the silver mist of her curse glowed around her, filling her space and the doorway. One more step forward and it would be me that mist would be touching. “Luna, you don’t understand how bad this thing is. As long as Martin’s carrying it, he’s a danger to everyone around him.”

Luna looked back at me. Her blue eyes were cold and when she spoke, her voice was too. “Like me?” The door slammed and she was gone.

I moved to follow her, then stopped. I heard the sound of running feet, cut off by the bang of the shop door. Luna had run out into the rain after Martin. Looking through the futures I could see the exact point at which she’d catch him up. I could track them down and find them.

And all it would do was make things worse. If I went after Martin he’d think I was trying to chase him, and if I went after Luna it would lead to a worse fight. I wanted to run after them, or do something, and all I could do was stand there. I smacked a hand into the door, hard, and swore, then stood there and listened to the rain beating against my window.

I was angry and upset. I wanted to go after Luna. Instead I went upstairs to the small living room in my flat, hung up the heavy bag that I keep in the corner, and started beating on it. The bag shook and I felt the vibrations run down the beams and through the floorboards of the house. While I kept punching, I scanned through the futures, waiting to see if Luna would come back. She didn’t.

After forty-five minutes I knew Luna wouldn’t be coming back that night. I abandoned the bag and went for a shower to wash the sweat from my body. I washed my hair, towelled myself dry, and dressed in a clean shirt and a pair of jeans. Once I’d done that I checked again to see if the future had changed. Nothing.

Now I’d burnt through the worst of my frustration I could think clearly again. Unwillingly, I had to admit that it had been stupid to tell Luna to stay away from Martin. If I’d
thought about it I’d have realised that telling her not to go near one of her only friends was a bad idea. I haven’t had many fights with Luna, and this was the angriest I’d seen her in a long time.

The sun had set and the sky outside my window was darkening from grey to black. The rain had died away to a steady drizzle, forming a fine mist in the air that was visible only in the yellow glows cast by the streetlights. There were lights in the houses and blocks of flats beyond the canal—many lights; few people were out in weather like this. As the evening turned into night and the weather began to dry, the streets would begin to fill once again. I paced back and forth across my small room and thought about the monkey’s paw.

I don’t keep records, but I remembered the day I’d acquired the thing very clearly. One winter evening three years ago, an old man came into my shop and asked if I would be interested in an imbued item. There would be no charge; he just wanted to pass it on to a good home. He explained that it could grant any five wishes its owner desired and I could use it however I saw fit.

I refused. I told the old man that wish-granting items usually came with some sort of horrible price, and you never got something for nothing. If he was offering it for free, it was a pretty safe bet it wasn’t something I wanted to have.

The old man agreed that the wishes came at a high price. He asked if I would be willing to simply keep hold of the item and give or sell it on.

I refused again. If the thing was that dangerous, I wasn’t going to be responsible for handing it over to anyone else. The old man smiled and left.

The next day, the monkey’s paw was sitting on the shelves in my shop next to the focuses. I put on a pair of gloves, picked the thing up, and placed it in my safe room upstairs. Three months, six months, nine months went by and I forgot about it.

Then one day a woman picked the monkey’s paw off my shelves, out of a spot I would have sworn was empty. She wanted to buy it. I said no and closed the door firmly behind her. When I checked that evening the monkey’s paw was gone. I found out the woman’s name and learnt that the monkey’s paw was in her possession.

She committed suicide a week later. The monkey’s paw was back on the shelves the same evening. I put it back in the safe room and left it there.

A year later, someone else picked up the monkey’s paw in the exact same way. This time I didn’t try to stop the man from taking it. I agreed to give it to him on the condition that he promised never to use it. He gave me his promise and left, happy.

The man came back to my shop one last time, on a Saturday evening just before I closed up for the night. I remembered his shifty eyes, the tension in his movements, his insistence that everything was fine. Under pressure he admitted he’d been using the paw. According to him he’d made four wishes. There had been problems. He wouldn’t go into details but he wanted to know if there was some way to make a wish do exactly what you wanted.

I never saw him again. By the next day he had disappeared, and no one ever found out where he’d gone. But while cleaning the shop that Sunday night, I saw the monkey’s paw had returned.

And now Luna was alone with the thing’s next owner. Just the thought of that made my skin crawl. I thought of ringing her, but what would I say? To stay away from him? Yeah, that had worked so well last time …

I wondered whether Luna’s curse would be enough to keep her safe. The luck-twisting effect of the curse is a powerful protection but it has its limits, and I didn’t know how it would interact with the monkey’s paw. The only bit of reassurance I had was that judging from the last two times, the monkey’s paw wouldn’t do anything straightaway. Luna
was supposed to be meeting me tomorrow to train at Arachne’s. I couldn’t tell for sure whether she’d show up but I didn’t think anything terrible would happen before then. Maybe she’d have calmed down enough to listen to me. And maybe I wouldn’t screw things up so badly next time.

With that decided, I felt a bit better. I went and fixed myself some dinner, then washed up and returned to my room. As I did, I turned my attention to the immediate future and saw that someone would be wanting to get into my shop. It was well past closing time but most mages don’t like to go shopping during business hours. It’s not common for them to show up after dark but it’s not rare, either, and it’s happened enough that I’ve installed a bell by the front door.

The bell rang just as I finished tying my shoes. I pulled on a jumper and walked down the stairs, flicking on the light as I reentered the shop. The place always feels a little eerie after dark; row after row of silent shelves, watching and waiting. I could see the outline of somebody through the shop window, half hidden by the door.

I opened the door and the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen stumbled in, gasping and wide-eyed. “Please, I need your help! There’s something trying to kill me!”

My precognition screamed. I took one look at what had set it off, grabbed the woman, and yanked her back, pulling her with me into the middle of the shop. An instant later, the shop window exploded in a shower of glass as something came flying through, landing with a slam on the spot the woman and I had been standing in just a second ago. Without pause the creature pulled itself to its feet and lunged straight for us.

Some days are just better spent in bed.

I
shoved the woman out of the creature’s path and let the momentum push me back so the thing went between us. The move would have been a lot more graceful if I hadn’t
hit the herb rack on the way, almost tripping over. The woman stumbled and fell, and the creature was on top of her before she could recover. It dropped to its knees, its hands reaching for her throat.

The creature looked human, but wasn’t. It had two arms, two legs, a head and a body, but there was something about it that was just
wrong
. Before it could get a grip on the woman’s neck, I took a step and swung a roundhouse kick into its ribs.

I’m not a real hand-to-hand expert but I’ve done a fair bit of training in the past, and a swinging kick against a low target carries an awful lot of force. The impact flipped the thing over and sent it rolling to slam against the shelves. The shelves swayed and crystal balls and statuettes rained down on the thing with a crash. I pulled the woman to her feet and hustled her towards the door to the hall. “Get out! Go!”

The creature stood up. Now that I got a good look at it, I saw it had the face of a nondescript man in his thirties with brown hair, brown eyes, and a bland expression. The eyes were locked on me now, and as I looked into the future I saw that its movements were solid lines of light, changing to match my decisions but without choice or variation. A construct. The woman and I backed to the door and the construct followed.

My counter is an L shape set against the wall. As the woman opened the door I moved into the dead-end space, reaching for what was under the counter. I’m not so paranoid as to carry weapons in my own home, but I’m just paranoid enough to stash them where I can reach them quickly. I knew without looking that the construct would follow me, and as it came around the counter I straightened up with the gun in both hands, thumbed off the safety, sighted at a range of less than two feet, and shot the thing in the middle of the chest.

My gun’s a M1911, a single-action semiautomatic. It had
been a while since I’d fired the thing and I’d forgotten how damn loud it was. The crash echoed around the shop and made me flinch, and the construct jerked. As a general rule anything worth shooting is worth shooting twice, so I brought the gun down and shot the construct again.

The construct jerked a second time, then closed in. In the instant before it reached me, I had just enough time to realise two things: first, the shots had done absolutely nothing, and second, I was backed into a corner with nowhere to run. A moment later, the construct had its hands around my neck.

By construct standards, the thing was weak. Unfortunately, weak by construct standards is still freakishly strong for a human. The thing’s fingers locked around my throat like iron, crushing my windpipe and cutting off the flow of blood to my brain, and in panic I dropped the gun and grabbed at its hands, trying and failing to pull them away. The construct stared at me, its eyes empty and bland as it methodically choked me to death. My vision was just about to grey out when I remembered my training. I put my hands together under my chin knuckle to knuckle, fingers down and slightly hooked, then jerked my arms apart in a single explosive motion.