Kill Fish Jones (21 page)

‘Oh, Han, wasn't that the weird one who didn't die first go? You know, the one with the hunched back and the limp?' The Queen clapped her hands and giggled. ‘You made a right hash out of that – the way his pet pig ran out and tripped you up just as you materialised made me hoot!'

Hanhut winced. Grimshaw could hardly believe it, but there it was. A wince.

‘You got him in the end though!' Hanhut's Architect giggled again. ‘I did like the way you skinned him first – really fun that was! I think you should do that more often. When …
if
we get another Litany, of course.' She sighed and stuck out her lip in a pout.

The two demons, big and small, exchanged a long look and for once it was a look of total understanding. By way of direction, Hanhut made a small triangle in the air with a claw, then, as one, they reached for their chronometers.

‘Remember when you had to go all the way to Paris to get that one on top of the metal tower thing with the holes …'

Again as one, the two demons pressed send and vanished from the museum …

… to reappear in the Limbo desert at the foot of a pyramid and right in front of Tun.

‘Oh, there you are, small one,' said Tun, ignoring Hanhut as openly as possible. ‘I've been looking all over the desert for you – I was going to try the museum next. Thought you might want to find out more about the odd affair of the third Sufferer.'

Grimshaw nodded eagerly. ‘You spotted that too?'

Hanhut sighed loudly. It sounded like knives scraping against stone, probably being sharpened. Tun did a mock start and said, ‘Oh, you're here, are you? Didn't see you against all that sand! You do kind of blend in.'

The jackal-headed demon glared at him irritably and ruffled his wings. For the first time Grimshaw registered that Hanhut's all-over deathly grey colour did rather match his surroundings. He also realised that after their sudden exit, Hanhut's Architect might decide to summon him back before they had a chance to talk. He'd better move fast. Taking a deep breath, Grimshaw went for it.

‘Look,' he said. ‘You are the greatest demon …'

‘Ahem,' coughed Tun meaningfully.

‘…
one
of the greatest demons in history, apart from
the Mighty Curse which is most powerful of all, and yet your third Sufferer survived the first time you tried to kill him. Then you didn't try again for
three whole years
. And then you got him. So my questions are: why did he survive? Was it Destiny, like Fish Jones? And how did you get him in the end? Please tell me. I know I'm only a small curse, but I lost my chronometer, my Sufferer keeps surviving and I'd really
really
like to know.'

Aloof and chilly, and with his arms folded in a forbidding, headmasterly kind of way, the jackal-headed demon studied Grimshaw. Tun hummed tunelessly, making patterns in the sand with a bony toe and trying to look disinterested.

‘Why?' asked Hanhut finally. ‘Do you, pathetic little failure that you are, truly have the nerve to challenge Destiny?'

‘Yes!' cried Grimshaw. ‘I did already! I tried and tried, though it didn't work. But if there's a way, if you know a way, then I'll try again till it does.'

Hanhut glared at him some more, but there was a hint of curiosity in the look.

‘You are a strange one,' he said, ‘I'm almost tempted, but …'

‘He won't tell you,' put in Tun. Deep in his cowl, his unseen eyes were alight with cunning design as he steered events in the right direction. ‘He wants you to go on thinking that he's a powerful Avatar who bested Destiny in some mysterious way, when for all we know he failed the first time because he made a mistake.'

There was a furious roar from Hanhut, ‘You … you moth-eaten BATHROBE!'

Tun sneered. ‘Everyone knows that one, it's not funny any more. But if it's the best your dog-brain can come up with …'

Hanhut threw back his jackal head and howled at the sky, making Grimshaw cower. In response, Tun raised his arms, his night-dark robes swirling. Around him the air shimmered, and Grimshaw knew that if they had been in Real Space it would be growing dark and chill. Hanhut spread his wings, casting a shadow on the air, even in Limbo, which was no mean feat. The two demons faced each other, poised as if ready to strike.

Grimshaw glanced nervously at the sky. Such a display of power was likely to attract attention.

‘Stop it!' he yelled. ‘The Horsemen will hear you!'

The warning got through. Tun and Hanhut stopped glaring at one another and sent worried looks up at the sky. Hanhut abandoned his angry pose and reached for his chronometer of carved alabaster, intending to zap somewhere else just to be on the safe side.

‘TELL ME!' howled Grimshaw.

‘If there's anything to tell,' murmured Tun.

The Egyptian demon paused. Tun's point had hit home, and Hanhut couldn't bear for anyone to think he had failed to kill a Sufferer because of a mistake. He glanced up, checking the sky once more. It was empty save for one tiny dot far in the distance. It wasn't the Horsemen, so he ignored it.

Tun was almost sure he knew what Hanhut was going to say, and if so then it would push Grimshaw further in the right direction. Of course, he might be wrong. If it wouldn't have been beneath him to do so, he would have held his breath.

‘It was Destiny,' Hanhut said at last in his rasping voice. ‘My third Sufferer was protected by the Higher Orders.'

‘But you killed him in the end!' cried Grimshaw.

Hanhut laughed, ignoring the intensity of Tun's gaze that would have bored holes in steel.

‘I was lucky. The man's destiny came upon him while I hesitated, wondering what to do next. He made the scientific discovery that he was born to make and then his days of protection were over. He was mine for the taking. And I took him.'

Grimshaw stared at Hanhut in dismay. ‘You mean I have to wait!'

‘It's the only way,' said Hanhut. ‘Destiny trumps curses, even curses as great as mine. Only the Mighty Curse, the most terrible of us, would be strong enough to overcome it.'

‘But how long will I have to wait?' cried Grimshaw.

‘Who knows?' put in Tun quickly, well satisfied with the way things were going. ‘The boy could be an old man before he does whatever it is he's destined to do. You will just have to bear the disgrace for a few … well, probably many … long years. Still, what does it matter? You are only a small demon, after all.'

‘IT MATTERS TO ME,' shrieked Grimshaw, his anger rising through him in a flood.

‘Well then, what are you going to do about it?' said Tun, cheerfully. On Tun, cheerful sounded like the crack of doom, but there was something in his voice that made Grimshaw glare at him accusingly.

‘You know something!'

Poised to press send, Hanhut paused, his curiosity getting the better of him. In the sky, the distant dot grew larger, flying purposefully towards the group at the foot of the pyramid.

Tun cleared his throat. ‘I have been thinking about your situation a lot, my small friend, and it has occurred to me that there is one possible solution. If you were daring enough to carry it through. As you know—'

‘Get on with it,' snarled Hanhut. ‘We can do without one of your monologues.'

Tun glared, but got straight to the point anyway.

‘You could wake the Mighty Curse,' he said, his voice a deathly whisper in the still Limbo air, ‘and call its doom upon the world and everything in it.
Including Fish Jones
.'

There was a stunned pause, then Hanhut threw back his head and howled with laughter.

‘Idiot,' he sneered. ‘The Mighty Curse is lost and no one knows where. Besides, you would destroy the world!'

‘Exactly,' murmured Tun to himself. ‘And more than
that.' Deep in the shadows of his cowl, the terrible eyes gleamed.

Still howling with laughter, Hanhut vanished. Grimshaw barely noticed him go. True, the Mighty Curse was lost, but Tun's idea filled him with restless excitement and he wanted to talk about it. Neither of them had spotted the shape on the horizon, close now, looking like a small winged serpent flying swiftly their way. But not all serpent. Its long hair flew out behind it in a golden veil, bright against the dull grey of the sky, and even from this far away the green glow of its eyes was visible.

‘But … I mean … how would we find out where the Mighty Curse was? It can't be in Limbo with its Architect or we'd know.'

Tun waved an arm airily. ‘That, my friend, is a point I have often considered. And I believe,' he spoke softly, his dark monk-shape leaning closer to Grimshaw, ‘I have at least half of the answer. Imenga the Mighty made his curse to act once and once only and then to come to an end. So, when he died, his soul was sent on to wherever it is that immortal souls go when they have tried to kill the world.'

Grimshaw flattened his ears back against his bony skull. Tun stepped back, giving Grimshaw time to work it out.

‘So … what you are saying is … it's with its Sufferer? With the World! It's in Real Space, isn't it?'

‘Exactly!'

‘But
where
in Real Space?'

‘That is the half I don't know. But I was wondering … You were brave enough to ask the Sisters for answers before. Perhaps you could try them again. They are angel Avatars, even if they are lowly ones, so surely they will know.'

Grimshaw smiled up at Tun gratefully, but inside something was bothering him. A frown began to creep over his brow. ‘It's very good of you to come up with all these ideas,' he said slowly, ‘when it could have such consequences for you too.'

‘Whatever do you mean, small one?' Tun turned his cowled head and Grimshaw felt his friend's terrible gaze settle on his face.

‘Well, with no one left alive in Real Space to invoke the curses, won't they all be broken? Our Architects will die properly and will move on to Whatever Comes Next. And all of the Avatars, angel or demon, well … who knows what will become of us?' Grimshaw flicked his ears and glanced up into the depths of the cowl that hid Tun's cold eyes, watching him so steadily.

‘Especially,' he went on slowly, ‘when you went to the trouble of making it so that your curse, and you, could never end.'

And then, out of the blue, Grimshaw saw the full truth of it. He understood why Tun always seemed unhappy, and why he had really killed the last family member of the House of Ombre – not to live forever, but in an attempt to end his curse!

‘It's what
you
want me to do!' cried Grimshaw. ‘End all the curses so that you can end too.' Hunching his bony shoulders, Grimshaw hissed at Tun as the hurt went deep. ‘You're using me!'

The words hung in the still Limbo air. All the concern, all the help, was nothing more than Tun's plan to break free of his doom.

Tun gazed at Grimshaw steadily, then gave a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘So, small one,' he said coldly, ‘do you want to discuss tactics or not?'

‘NOT!' cried a familiar voice over their heads.

‘Flute!' Grimshaw screamed as a lithe body swooped down from the sky and two clawed hands grabbed him by the shoulders, jerking him from the ground. Startled, Tun took a moment to react, but then reached out and seized one of Grimshaw's disappearing back paws.

‘He's mine!' howled Tun. ‘I had him just where I wanted him! Let him go you … you harpy!'

Flute shrieked with laughter, still pulling Grimshaw away. Tun held on, while Grimshaw yelled and struggled, wanting them both to let go. But for all that Tun was a fearsome demon, Flute was stronger and had a better hold. Feeling Tun's cold grip on his back paw slide away, Grimshaw yelled even louder.

‘Find me,' commanded Tun as the Sister tore Grimshaw free. His deep voice rang on the air like a death knell. ‘Find me, small one, and I'll tell you what to do next to give us both our heart's desire!'

‘So, this is cosy, isn't it?' said Flute's cool voice above Grimshaw's head.

She had dropped him on his front on a rock at the foot of a cliff, looking out over the Limbo ocean. Scrabbling upright, Grimshaw looked round to see her settling on the rock next to him. The lack of legs made it difficult for the Sisters to land anywhere as they had to lie on their middles and prop themselves up with their slender arms. Mostly they stayed in the air, hovering ceaselessly or flying high against the grey Limbo sky. But here was Flute, perched next to him with her wings folded and her lamp eyes studying his face.

Any other time, Grimshaw would have been impressed that one of the Sisters wanted to talk to him. Now, he just glared at her. The memory of his exchange with Tun still seethed in his head.

‘I thought you might have some questions for me,' said Flute.

Grimshaw shrugged irritably and looked away, over the ocean that rolled out beneath him. The sea in Limbo
was always grey and totally still. There were no waves or even ripples, and certainly nothing as exciting as a tide. It looked like an endless expanse of lifeless grey glass, a mirror of the sky. The only mirror that existed in Limbo.

Flute pinched his arm to get his attention.

‘My sisters don't want me to be here,' she hissed. ‘We had quite a row about you. They think you are a dismal disappointment who should be left to moulder away in the company of your tiresome Architect until his remains are dust and your curse ceases to exist and you along with it. They think you are a sad, pitiful, pointless waste of half-life. I, on the other hand, don't.'

Grimshaw flicked his ears. He didn't want to listen to Flute, he didn't want to listen to anything but his own anger snarling away in his head, but he couldn't help going back to the problem of Fish Jones. He turned his inky gaze to look at Flute.