Mortal Love (34 page)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The Dog Jumps Down

I
n Nick's flat a cell phone
rang. Val and Larkin didn't notice as, light as a fox, Nick was across the room to answer it.

Daniel did not stir. Only he had known that the phone would ring; only he had known that Val would move as though underwater to pick up his beer from the table; only he had seen the pair of interlocking circles left upon the unpolished wood surface by the sweating bottle.

“Wait,” Daniel said.

But he didn't really speak, just watched silently as Val held out his hand to Larkin, then cocked his head toward the door that led onto the rooftop. Larkin smiled. She lifted a hand as though waving good-bye or hello and followed Val outside.

“That was Juda,” said Nick. He looked around uneasily. “Checking up on you. I told her you seemed to be convalescing, but she's on her way over to see for herself. Daniel?”

Daniel said nothing. He was staring out the narrow window above the sink, glass framing the green world outside: glossy jade branches of bay trees in terra-cotta pots and arching fronds of cordiline, three young white birches with silvery leaves like coins spinning in the evening breeze; banks of anemones, a lattice of blooming passionflower. Sira tended it, and a gardener who came once a month. Now two tall figures were silhouetted against the brick wall of the building next door, each with a rain-colored aura, misty green and bluish gray: they were leaning toward each other to form a sort of arch through which the white petals of anemones fluttered mothlike.

“Daniel?” Nick touched his shoulder. Daniel did not move. “Leave, her, Danny. Come have a drink. Sit and have a beer.”

From the rooftop came the hushed sound of Larkin's laughter. This time when Nick's hand touched his shoulder, it remained there. Daniel turned away.

“I'll just have some water.” He sat and cradled his head in his hands. “I've had too much to drink the last couple of days. Maybe I should go back to D.C.”

“Don't be rash, now,” said Nick kindly. “You're just out of practice”; and he gave his friend a liter of sparkling water and a glass. “You know Juda's a doctor. She could prescribe something for you. To help you sleep.”

“I don't need help sleeping.”

“Something to make you feel better, then. Just for the short term. Until you get on your feet again.”

“I don't need to get on my goddamn feet.” Daniel stared rigidly at the table in front of him. The moisture left by Val's beer bottle had dried, but the imprint of two linked circles remained. His fist smashed the rough surface, rubbing at it until friction made his hand burn with pain. When he lifted his hand, the circles were untouched.

“Danny,” Nick said. “Listen to me. Juda knows—”

“Knows
what?
Christ, I don't even know if Juda's a guy or a girl. Do you?”

Nick took a sip of his beer. “Both, I think.”

“Both?”

“Well, yeah. You know. She walks like a woman but talks like a man? Hermaphroditic.”

“You mean, a transsexual?”

“No. She was born that way. I guess. I mean, assuming she was born.”

The doorbell buzzed again. There was the squeak of keys in the lock, followed by the thud of the door slamming shut and Juda's brash voice echoing up the stair.

“Nick? You still here?” She halted in the doorway, pale eyes fixed on Daniel. He looked at her but said nothing, and she came inside to join them. “Hello, Daniel.”

He nodded. She had changed into loose cornflower-blue trousers, a thin T-shirt that made her bare arms look as frail and insubstantial as a child's. In the light her unruly shock of hair glowed orange. She stared at him; as he stared back, he noticed that not just her nails but her fingers were the same color as her pants.

“I'm here,” he said. “I'm fine. Just ducky. You can leave now.”

“Everyone's here.” Nick tugged at one gold earring. “You. Daniel.” He thrust his chin in the direction of the door that led to the rooftop. “Her.”

Juda looked quickly out the window. “Larkin, you mean? You should have told me.” She darted to the sink and peered out. “Who's that with …”

Her voice died. Daniel turned to see her staring into the garden. Her expression was rapt, torn between disbelief and fear and a joy so profound it scared him.

“Shit.”
She began to climb on top of the sink, hands splayed against the window frame. “Nick! Who is that with Larkin?”

“That's Val Comstock. Little brother of a guy I used to buy coke from a long time ago. He stayed here for a bit, oh, I guess it's been five or six years now. Why? D'you know him?”

“That's not anybody's little brother.” Juda shook her head. “Fucking hell …”

Daniel hurried to her side. “Who is he, then?”

“Someone I knew a long, long time ago.”

“Yeah?” He peered out the window, squinting. The two figures had disappeared behind the veil of birch leaves. “Like, in prison, maybe? Rehab?” He looked at Nick, scowling. “He looks like a goddamn barbarian.”

“Val's not a bad kid. Used to do some kind of theater work. For a while he fronted a band up near Finchley Park. You might like him.”

“I doubt it.”

All three of them were in front of the sink now, jostling to get a view outside. Laughter wafted up from the café next door, the stuttering beat of electronica. Daniel could just make out the pair behind the lattice of vines, green-black shapes that seemed to swell and shrink like shadows on moving water.

“I don't like him,” Daniel announced. “I don't trust him.”

“Christ, Dan, he's just a kid,” said Nick. “Smarter than he looks, too.”

“Right. Conan the Grammarian.” Daniel started for the door. “I'm going to—”

A furious burst of sound echoed through the kitchen. Daniel stopped and stared out onto the roof. The noise came again, loud and frenzied.

A dog barking.

“That's Fancy!” Juda cried. She pushed Daniel aside and ran out onto the patio. “Fancy!”

Daniel ran after her.

“Fancy !”

On the low parapet that overlooked Inverness stood the Border collie. Every hair on his body seemed to be raised, so that he looked twice as big as when Daniel had last seen him. His muzzle pointed straight down into the street, and he was poised to leap, his front paws scrabbling at the edge of the brick ledge.

“Fancy, no!”

The volley of barking gave way to a low, anxious whine. Daniel looked around desperately. There was no sign of Larkin or Val Comstock.

“Fancy—here, boy!” Nick ran toward the parapet, Juda at his heels. The dog glanced back at them, its eerie, mismatched eyes shining. Then it turned, crouched down upon the ledge, and jumped.

“No!”

Juda shouted, a high wail that drowned out the throb of traffic. Daniel raced to the edge of the parapet and stared down. In the street below them, the black-and-white collie darted through the crowd, barking madly as people moved away, startled.

“Fancy!” Juda shouted, leaning over the wall. “Fancy, wait!”

At the corner of Inverness and the High Street, a massive figure stood holding the upright handles of a motorcycle, chrome and beetle black. A woman with long auburn hair eased herself onto the seat behind him as the dog leaped and snapped at her feet.

“Larkin!” Daniel started to scramble onto the parapet. “Larkin, don't!”

“You fucking daft?” Nick shouted, yanking him down. “Danny, stop!”

“God, I don't
believe
it!” Daniel shouted, feeling as though he'd been run through with a knife. “What the … how the hell did she get
down
there?”

A sudden roar from the street. Smoke billowed from the motorcycle. A group of teenagers screamed and cursed in delight as the bike lunged forward into traffic, heading north on the High Street. Behind it raced the Border collie, its belly skimming the ground as it ran. From the rooftop Daniel and Nick and Juda stared down like onlookers at a train wreck.

“He's done it, then,” Juda whispered. “All this time, he's finally done it.”

“We better go after the dog,” said Nick. “That's a Vincent HRD, that bike. Black Shadow. I remember when he bought it.”

“Black Shadow? Black Shadow?” Daniel turned to him, fist raised. “
How did he get in? You
—”

Juda grabbed his hand. “Stop it, Daniel! He's right—I have to get the dog. He'll lead me to her. To them.”

“I'm going with you,” said Daniel.

Juda started to protest, then stopped.

“Me, too,” Nick said.

She hurried back inside. Nick quickly locked the back door. Juda was already running downstairs. Daniel started after her, then stopped. He glanced at the living room with its denuded bookshelf and torn pages littering the floor.

“Son of a bitch,” he said.

He ran into the guest room. His books had been moved, the battered copy of
Love in the Western World
plucked from its rubber band so that loose pages were everywhere. He turned to his bed, yanked back the sheets and blankets, looking for the notebook he'd placed there the night before.

“Damn it—it's gone!”

“Daniel!” Nick's urgent voice came from downstairs. “C'mon now!”

Daniel kicked at a pillow, grabbed his satchel and leather jacket, and ran downstairs.

“Juda's gone ahead to get the car,” Nick said as Daniel ran up alongside him in Inverness Street. “Freak thing, wannit? That dog landing in one piece?”

“Freak thing is how the goddamn dog got there in the first place. You think of that, Hayward? How did that dog get on the roof? Did it fly there? And this guy Comstock? His brother's a drug dealer, and you give him a key to the flat? Are you nuts?”

Nick shrugged deeper into his anorak. “Did he rip you off?”

“A notebook of mine is missing. Not to mention a lot of
your
books appear to have been destroyed.”

“I never had a problem with him before,” Nick said plaintively. “His brother had him put in hospital for a while, but he seemed to be okay.”

“‘In hospital'? What do you mean? What kind of hospital?”

“Look, I don't even know them that well, Danny. The boy had some problems when he was a kid. He bashed up Simon—the older brother—beat him with a plank or something. Messed 'im up pretty bad. They put him in some sort of place. But you know, I've wanted to take a bat to Simon myself a few times—”

“Nick! What
sort
of place?”

Nick shrugged. “I think a sort of mental hospital.”

“A
nuthouse? You
let this guy into the flat where
I am living
and—”

“Jesus, Dan, it was fucking years ago!”

“Yeah? Well, now he's taken off with Larkin, and that was fucking
minutes
ago!”

At the corner of Inverness and Gloucester Crescent, a black Mercedes pulled up and honked. Juda leaned out the window. “Nick! Daniel! Move it!”

Nick jumped in back. Daniel slid in beside Juda. The car was done up in leather and walnut; it smelled of Gitanes and coffee.

“Nice car,” said Nick. “Do you have a GPS to follow the dog?”

“It's rented. He went north up toward Kentish Town.” The car roared into Parkway, then headed for the Kentish Town Road. “Don't worry, I can find him.”

“What about Val Comstock?” demanded Daniel. “Nick says he was institutionalized for trying to kill his brother. Is he one of your patients, too?”

“No, he's not one of my patients.”

“But you knew him, right? You
knew
—”

“Daniel.” Juda's voice rose dangerously. “Listen to me. I don't know Val, but I—how can I put this so it makes sense to you? I
recognize
him.”

“You mean, because he's crazy?” Daniel stared out at traffic signals, bus stops, club queues, all flickering past like a deck of cards tossed into the air. “And … and …”

He clenched his fist and struck his thigh, trying to keep from grabbing the wheel from her and slamming the car into a wall.

“Why are we doing this?” he cried. “We're chasing this dog—which I don't see anywhere, do you?—and Larkin and some berserker I have never seen before in my life—
why?
Because I'm willing to believe that
I'm
crazy, and I've known about Nick for a long time now—but, Dr. Trent, you …”

He pounded the glove box. “You're driving a nice car! You have a house, and clients, and expensive clothes—why are you doing this, Dr. Trent?
Who is Larkin Meade?”

“There!” Nick shouted from the backseat. He leaned out the window, pointing. “Fancy! Come here, Fancy!”

The car swerved across the traffic lane and into a side street. Daniel could just make out a black-and-white shimmer in the smudged wash of brick and asphalt in front of them. They followed the dog along the street, winding up and past a row of old one-story warehouses, until the road once once more joined a major thoroughfare. The Border collie arrowed off to the left, skirting the curb, and raced on, three or four car lengths ahead of them. Daniel could see its muzzle bared in a long white-toothed grin, its legs moving tirelessly.

“There!” cried Nick. “He's gone up there!”

“Where are we?” said Daniel. The roads they'd been following had slowly risen higher and higher, so that he glimpsed jagged vistas of the city all around them: rows of terraced council housing, a shimmer of glass and steel atop a hill, far-off sweeps of green and brown.