The Black Tattoo (58 page)

"And is it... safe?" asked Charlie.

"As safe as it can be," said Esme.
 
"Yes."

"Only we know ze secret," said Number 1.
 
He looked around the little group, unsmiling.
 
"Only one of us, or someone that we tell, will be able to release ze demon."

"Yeah, like
that's
going to happen," said Charlie, and shuddered.

For a moment, there was silence among them.

Jack was looking at Esme.
 
Suddenly, she just looked incredibly, utterly tired.
 
Come to think of it, he felt the same way.

"So," said Charlie, with a casual tone that was blatantly false.
 
"What's next?"

Jack had to admit, it was a good question.

To his surprise, it was Esme who broke the silence.

"I've been fighting the Scourge," she said, "my whole life.
 
There's nothing I've done — not one single thing — that hasn't been totally taken up with that."

Jack looked at her.
 
He hadn't thought of this, but it was true.
 
All the time he'd spent in Hell, all the time since this whole thing had started, only really amounted to a few days in real time.
 
Esme had been fighting since before she was born.

Suddenly, she smiled.

"I'm going to learn how to live," she said.
 
"That's what I'm going to do next.
 
And maybe you'd all better do the same."
 
She turned to Charlie.
 
"Especially you."

"Yeah," said Charlie, looking at his feet.
 
"I guess."

"I've got to go," said Esme, coming toward Jack and giving him a quick hug that was over before he'd even realized that that was what she was going to do.
 
With her hands on his shoulders, she looked into his eyes.
 
"See you round?" she asked.

Jack was blushing furiously, but he managed not to look away.
 
"Er, sure," he managed, then immediately felt very silly indeed.

"Bye now," said Esme to the others.

Then she vanished.

"I too must go," said Number 1.
 
Ignoring Charlie, he looked at Jack.
 
"It 'as been a pleasure," he said.

"Thanks," said Jack, surprised.

Smiling at Jack, Number 1 nodded once — and walked away.

Then Charlie and Jack looked at each other.

"Well," said Charlie finally, "apart from thinking of something to tell my folks, I guess that's it."

"Yeah," said Jack.
 
He felt strangely empty.
 
Almost... disappointed, somehow.

"You taking the tube?" asked Charlie.

"Sure."

"It's not quite as quick as dematerializing, but it gets there in the end."

"Fine."

"Let's go, then."

The two boys emerged onto the path and set off toward the nearest Underground station.

They didn't look back.

EPILOGUE

Three weeks later, Jack was back at school.
 
He was sitting by the window, in a double history class.

Jack hated double history.
 
He'd spent the first ten minutes of the class drawing little dashes around the edge of his history folder for every single minute there was left.
 
Next, he'd started crossing them out as they passed.
 
In about five minutes' time, he knew, he was going to be exactly one-eighth of the way through the double class, and that wasn't anything like far enough for him.

He was in a foul mood.
 
And really, he thought, who could blame him?
 
Being forced to sit through the best part of two hours' tiresome waffling about Tudors and Stuarts seemed like a pretty poor reward for recently saving the universe.
 
Plus, naturally, there was the fact that nobody knew about it:
 
there was nobody he could tell.
 
He wouldn't have known where to begin even if there
were
anyone he could tell.
 
You
try explaining to someone that you know Hell exists because you've been there, that you've met God (and God's god) and that the universe only continues to keep going because of decisions and actions that
you
made.
 
See how far that gets you.

At first, Jack had been pleased to be back.
 
His parents had been so wildly (and guilt-inducingly) relieved to see him that they'd accepted his story about running away with Charlie and spending a few nights in a hotel, almost without question.
 
To his further surprise (perhaps it was something to do with his meeting with the Dragon), he'd found he was able to eat proper food again rather than Chinj vomit, which had obviously been a plus too.

But then — very soon after, in fact — the problems had set in.

He felt... detached from things.
 
It felt to him as though a sheet of clear plastic lay between him and the world.
 
He found he was wandering around in a sort of daze, going about the daily stuff of his average fourteen-year-old's life like a robot, or maybe a puppet.
 
And slowly, grimly, he'd begun to realize why.

No one has adventures every day.

This, he realized, was what was "typical".
 
Not the fact that everything that could possibly go wrong for him always seemed to do so — he wasn't sure he really believed that anymore.
 
What was typical, what was really typical, was the universal truth that no matter what amazing things you've done, what incredible adventures you've had, you've still got to come back to reality afterward.
 
You've got to go tot the toilet, you've got to do the washing up — you've got to go to double history, even when, if it wasn't for you, the Tudors and Stuarts would have become even more pointless and irrelevant than (it seemed to Jack) they are already.
 
And this, Jack decided, was even worse.

There.
 
Five minutes gone.
 
He could now cross off an entire chunk of the dashes around his history folder.
 
Hell, he thought, he might even color them in — anything to help pass the time.

His reverie was interrupted by a soft tapping at the window beside him.

Jack looked up.
 
On the other side of the glass, standing on the windowsill, was a large, furry, batlike creature wearing a pair of wraparound sunglasses.
 
It was waving at him.

Very slowly, Jack looked around the room.
 
Mr. Hildegast was still droning on.
 
Everyone else in the room still looked bored beyond belief.
 
No one appeared to have noticed the Chinj's appearance.

He looked back at the Chinj, which was making a series of pointing and jabbing gestures with its small front paws, its wings flapping dangerously.

The meaning was obvious.
 
Jack nodded once.
 
The Chinj grinned, bowed, and dropped out of sight.

Jack turned and put his hand up.

"Ah, Mr. Farrell!" Mr. Hildegast beamed at him.
 
"Do you have a question?"

"I'm sorry, sir," said Jack.
 
"But I was wondering if I could be excused."

Mr. Hildegast's expression turned sour and thunderous.
 
"Mr. Farrell!
 
Are you seriously suggesting," he asked and his voice held the beginnings of what Jack grimly realized was going to be one of his drearily predictable climaxes of indignation, "that I should let you disrupt my class — that I should let you
disturb your colleagues
— just because of your bladder?
 
You should have gone before you came in!"

A few appreciative titters spread around the room at this, and Jack was aware of everyone looking at him.

He didn't care.

"Sorry, sir," he said, "but I'm... not well.
 
I think it's something I ate.
 
And I really need to be excused, right now."

The tittering went up a notch.

"Heaven's sake, man," said Mr. Hildegast, "why didn't you say so?
 
Go!
 
Go quickly!"

"Thank you, sir," said Jack, and the laughter of the rest of the class followed him out down the passageways, until the door to the classroom banged shut behind him.

He made it to the toilets, got into the cubicle at the end that had the window, opened it, and sat down.

"All right," he said, "this had better be important."

"I'm very happy to see you, sir!"! squeaked the Chinj, bobbing up and down on its long toes as it clung to the cubicle's tiny windowsill.

"You too," said Jack.
 
And it was true:
 
it was good to see the small bat creature.
 
"Nice sunglasses," he added.

"Thank you," said the Chinj modestly.
 
"Miss Esme gave them to me."

"They look good on you."

"You're too kind."

"And how is Miss Esme?" Jack asked, a little pointedly.
 
He hadn't heard from Esme since the business at the tree.
 
He'd tried ringing the number at the theater, but it always seemed to be busy — and he'd begun to feel more than a little hurt.

"She's well," said the Chinj judiciously, "but she's been a bit busy.
 
In fact, that's rather what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh yes?"

"There's a problem," said the Chinj, "at the Fracture."

Jack's expression turned grim.
 
"What sort of problem?"

"Well, it's like this," the Chinj began.
 
"Thanks largely to your efforts, Hell's been going through some rather big changes lately.
 
For one thing, ever since... what happened, the new Emperor and I have—"

"New Emperor?" echoed Jack.
 
"Who?"

"I was coming to that," said the Chinj.
 
"As I was saying, the new Emperor and I have been approached by a number of parties who've been enquiring about the possibility of... well,
emigrating
, as it were.

Jack looked at the Chinj.
 
"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"There are some demons," the Chinj replied patiently, "who want to come and live here, in your world."

"Here?"
asked Jack, incredulous.
 
"Why?"

"I honestly couldn't tell you," said the Chinj.
 
"I mean, I was prepared to travel back and forth for you, of course, but I really can't see what merits the place has to offer by itself.
 
To be honest, it seems rather" — it grimaced daintily — "well, boring, actually.
 
No offense," it added quickly.

"None taken," said Jack.

"But these demons just won't listen to reason.
 
We've been positively
flooded
with enquiries about the Fracture.
 
One enterprising lit even set up a company, offering the chance for rank-and-file demons to book holiday tours—"

"What?"

"Though I'm sure I need hardly tell you," the Chinj went on hurriedly, "all requests to use the Fracture have been vehemently denied.
 
It's under constant guard in case anyone is foolish enough to attempt to go through without permission."

"So?" asked Jack.
 
"What's the problem?"

"The problem," said the Chinj, "is that the Emperor himself has expressed an interest in visiting."

"Oh yes?"

"In fact," the Chinj admitted, "he's already come through."

"Is that right?"

"Actually, there's a rather heated scene going on as we speak.
 
It's becoming difficult to prevent other humans who don't... 'know the score', as it were, from seeing things that they probably shouldn't."

"I can imagine," said Jack distractedly.
 
Much as he was enjoying talking to the Chinj, he was uncomfortably aware of how much time was passing.
 
Soon, no doubt, he was going to have to go back to his double history class and pretend that nothing had happened.
 
"So," he asked, "what does this have to do with me?"

The Chinj hopped awkwardly from one foot to the other.

"The Emperor has asked for you personally," it said.
 
"In fact, his Royal Highness has indicated that he will tear every part of the Light of the Moon into tiny pieces with his tentacles unless you come and explain to everyone how he once fooled you into thinking he was a human."

"Jagmat," said Jack, realizing.
 
"
Jagmat
's the new Emperor?"

"I believe," the Chinj went on, with obvious exasperation, "he thinks that this will somehow convince Esme and the Sons to let him take a look around.
 
At any rate, you'd better come and talk to him."

"Well, fancy that," said Jack, pleased for the blancmange-like demon.

The Chinj looked at him doubtfully.

"How soon can you get away from this place?" it asked.

Jack looked up at the small creature, seeing his own reflection in the lenses of its sunglasses.

He didn't reply straightaway.
 
A part of him was telling him that he ought to say no, that he should probably go back to double history and get on with the rest of his life.

But the other part of him was already working out how he could escape.

"Tell them I'm on my way," he said.

And then, for the first time in quite a while—

—he smiled.