Penult (57 page)

“
Assholes! They had to go
after my fucking legs.”

“
What did you want them to
shoot?” said to smirking. “Your face?”

“
Might improve my
looks.”

We helped him onto the easy chair-like
saddle that we had taken off his scorpion fly.

I went over to our last cracker column
and peeled back the wrapping with some trepidation.

Olivier and Urszula watched me
intently.

“
So? Which one did we
lose?”

I examined the pebbled surface
carefully, running my finger along the grooves.

“
I … I honestly can’t
tell.”

“
Well, we had better figure
it out, no? I mean, if we don’t have a working column, that kind of
changes things.”

“
The only way to tell would
be to try and activate it. This is … a pretty good copy … if I say
so myself.”

“
Told ya. Well shit. We got
a fifty-fifty chance, right? Not bad odds. Good enough to
proceed.”

“
Are we … are you ready to
move on?”

“
Yeah, sure. Once we get
Rhino and Georg dried out. Might as well.”

Ubaldo dropped anchor and got
ourselves and our bugs all watered and fed. Even way out here, this
ocean could not have any deeper than the deep end of a public pool.
The water was crystalline. We could see right down to the gravel
beds and make out every bristle on every crab that traversed
them.

The insects indeed seemed grateful for
the rest. They snacked noisily on some kind of slurry they had
discovered in the cisterns that lined the outer rail.

Olivier hobbled down the deck,
ignoring Urszula’s request to stay off his feet. He dunked a finger
into one of the open cisterns and stuck it in his mouth.

“
How is it?”

“
Like something between
horse crap and mushroom juice.” He spat out the traces over the
side and wiped his hand on his trousers.

“
Yum.”

“
Whatever. The bugs seem to
like it. But if this is what they eat in Heaven, I’m going back to
Hell.”

Ubaldo had climbed down into the hold
with Georg and the only true Frelsian remaining on our expedition,
a mild-mannered African named Solomon.

“
What’s down there?” said
Olivier, calling down a hatch. “Anything useful? Cracker columns
perhaps?” He looked at me and twitched his eyebrows
lecherously.

“
Cherubim,” said Ubaldo. “I
estimate … two hundred.”

“
Damn!” I said.

“
They any threat to
us?”

Ubaldo shook his head. “Their sides
are bound … with some kind of webbing. They are in a deep sleep.
Still … if they awaken while we are still on the boat….”

“
Fuck that. I say we toss
‘em right now.”

“
Toss them?”

“
Chuck ‘em all overboard.
That way we don’t need to worry.”

“
But … there are
hundreds.”

“
Hundreds fewer we’ll
meeting up again with down the road.”

I heard a splash. Georg had already
stuffed the first Cherub through one of the ventilation
ports.

“
Need help down there?” I
asked.

“
No. We have it under
control,” said Ubaldo. “It’s pretty crowded down here.”

I went over and dangled my legs off
the bow with Urszula and Karla, who had somehow taken to hanging
together. We made an awkward trio. I did my best to alleviate the
tension with diversionary small talk.

The trussed up Hashmal lay beside us,
limbs appressed to his sides with strands of gooey plasma. He
looked like some poor moth wrapped up to be some spider’s
dinner.

“
This must be your doing
Karla,” I said. “You have a knack for conjuring goo.”

“
At least I am good at
something.”

“
Remember that time you
wrapped up Urszula?”

“
Yes,” said Urszula, giving
me a look so serious it scared me.

I gazed down into the
water.

“
Wonder how hard it would
be to catch one of those crabs?”

“
Too big,” said Urszula.
“They would drag the boat under.”

“
Really? As big as our
bugs?”

“
The water here is deeper
than it looks. Trust, they are big.”

I sighed. “Sure would be nice to have
some seafood for a change. Some of these damned manna
chips.”

“
You want food? I can make
some,” said Karla. “I love cooking. Just tell me what you like and
I can make it. It may not look very nice but I guarantee it will
taste just like the thing you are expecting. Maybe
better.”

“
Okay. Hot fudge sundae.
Fried shrimp battered with coconut.”

Karla laughed. “Better make it one
thing at a time or else get both all mixed up.”

“
Okay. Shrimp
first.”

Karla reached into a pouch and pulled
out a handful of lively shreds of root. She stared them down and
they transformed as we watched, shrinking, rounding out, turning
golden brown. They didn’t look so much like shrimp as some kind of
low-end, microwavable chicken nuggets.

“
Go on. Try
one.”

I reached over and popped one in my
mouth. It was hot and crispy and exploded with flavor, all spicy
and coconut-y with bursts of cilantro, way better than the popcorn
shrimp we used to get at Red Lobster.

“
Holy crap! That’s …
amazing.”

I looked at Urszula.

“
Don’t look at me,” she
said. “I am not making you a sundae.”

“
Try one! They’re
good.”

Karla was hunched over and squinting
at me.

“
James? What is wrong your
chin?”

“
My chin? Nothing.
Why?”

“
And your fingers. You have
no fingers.”

“
What?”

Urszula sighed and rolled her eyes.
“Oh wonderful. The times he chooses to fade! Now we will be stuck
on this boat … for how long?”

Chapter 60:
Stalked

Spikes of pain jabbed my shoulder
where the Hashmal’s arrow had struck me back in the Deeps, like
some hard-shelled creature using its claws to dig itself from my
flesh.

The smell of old feathers, lavender
and unwashed dog told me I was back in that that musty, old cottage
in Stromness. The fire had gone out, but I was plenty warm with a
quilt tucked under my chin.

Light streamed in through holes in the
curtains. Jess stood by the window, peering through a gap along the
edge of a blind. When I grunted and sat up in bed, she nearly
jumped out of her skin.

“
There are some people out
there … staring at the cottage. Two men and a woman.”

I clutched my side. “Crap. It’s them.
They found me.”

“
Them? But … how do you
know? Maybe they’re just tourists. Maybe they’re lost.”

“
No. The way my shoulder’s
aching. It’s the Friends. Has to be. I took an arrow from a Hashmal
in the Deeps. You can’t see it, but the shaft, it’s still with
me.”

“
We can pretend we’re not
home. They have no indication this cottage is even occupied. I
haven’t been outside all day.

“
You don’t get it. They
know I’m here. It’s no use. And here we are, stuck on an island
with nowhere to run.”

“
Well, sorry. I thought
we’d be safer out here. Hardly anyone comes here this early in the
season.”

“
It’s not your fault,
Jess,” I said. “I never thought they’d find me this
fast.”

“
Well, the door’s firmly
locked. There’s no way they’re getting in. And if they continue to
loiter, I can call the police. Report them for
trespassing.”

“
Jess. You don’t
understand. They don’t need to get through the door.
Physically.”

Her cell phone pinged and she slipped
it out of her pocket.

“
Who texted?”

“
It’s … Helen.”

“
Don’t answer.”

“
No worries. I
won’t.”

“
Are they … back in
Brynmawr?”

“
Well, no. They’re in
Inverness and … oh … my goodness.”

“
What’s up? They’re not
still looking for Karla are they, because … there’s no need. I told
you ….”

“
No. Not Karla. It’s
Isobel. They’ve found Isobel!”

“
Really?”

Her phone pinged again.

“
Turn off the
ringer!”

Jess ignored me and it probably didn’t
matter.

“
Helen says they found
someone who knows someone who knows Izzie. And now they’re trying
to get in touch with that second someone to find out her
location.”

Jess peeked around the curtain again.
She gasped.

“
One of the men is coming
up the walk!”

I threw myself out of bed and wobbled
over to the window. I gave my head a shake, trying to rid my mind
of cobwebs. A man in a grey suit and a chartreuse tie stood at the
door, rummaging through a suede courier bag. Two other people—a
curly-haired fellow who looked a bit sleepy and a sharp-featured
woman with a blonde ponytail—leaned against the coarse stone wall
of a building across the lane.

I backed away from the window and
sighed.

“
Yup, Belinda’s with them.
These are the Friends of Penult.”

“
Remind me again,” said
Jess. “Are they the ones who killed that poor man in
Aberdeen?”

“
Yup. It was
them.”

“
But … these are not those
assassins?”

“
Nope.”

“
So does this mean that the
old assassins are now the good guys?”

“
Maybe. For the moment,
anyhow. But things change fast around here.”

Something rustled at the front door. A
sheet of paper was being shoved beneath it. Fancy stationery. It
almost looked like parchment. I had expected to see a message. ‘We
know you’re in there. Come out!’ Or something on that order. But
the sheet was blank.

As I stood over it, though, it began
to fold and curl spontaneously. Paper horns and pincers protruded
from an angular little body. It rose up on spindly legs and took a
step into the fool, feeling around with its feelers.

Jessica ran to the desk in the corner
and pulled a pair of scissors from a drawer. Something glinted from
a pit in the center of the creature’s head. It had acquired an eye.
I grabbed a stone paperweight and chucked it while Jessica stalked
the thing with her scissors.

The paperweight thudded against the
floorboards, narrowly missing the creature. It had dodged aside
nimbly, doing so, scurried within Jessica’s reach. She lunged and
snipped off a leg. Frantically, it attempted to refold itself, but
I took advantage of its distraction and stomped on it, pinning it
to the floor. Jessica administered the coup de grace, dismembering
the creature with her Fiskars.

“
I need to get out of
here!”

“
Don’t you mean
we?”

“
Jess. They won’t hurt you
unless you get in their way. I’m the one they want.”

“
I can help you. Together
we’re stronger.”

“
Jess. No. You don’t know
who you’re dealing with.”

“
Where will you
go?”

“
Just … away. I don’t want
you to get hurt.”

“
But….”

“
Jess, please.”

“
There’s a root cellar down
below, where Auntie kept her preserves. At the far end there’s a
passage leading out to the back yard. When we were kids we used to
play hide and seek. It was my favorite spot to go, because everyone
was too scared of the spiders to come look for me.”

The door knocker slammed three times,
making us both jump.

“
Don’t you dare open that
door,” I said.

“
Don’t you worry. And
anything that tries to come underneath will have these shears to
contend with.”

“
Once I go, they should
leave you be. They’ll know I’m not here.”

“
Grab some food from the
kitchen.”

“
No time! Now where’s that
root cellar?”

“
Down here.” She peeled
back a threadbare Persian rug in the main sitting room to reveal a
hinged trap door with a recessed metal pull.

I pulled on my sneakers, not bothering
to tie the laces. Jess lifted the hatch. A steep, narrow ladder
descended into the black.

“
I’ll come back when … er …
if … things cool off … and if you’re still here.”

“
Be careful!”

“
You too, Jess. Thanks for
everything.”

***

The root cellar was tiny, little more
than an underground closet. But a narrow stone-lined passageway
extended for several dozen meters off the back. As advertised, it
was loaded with spider webs, some of them occupied. Slivers of
light seeped through the slats of a wooden casement door at the
end. I undid a simple and pushed it open, finding myself in a
tangle of thistles and aster under a sprawling butterfly
bush.