The Dickens Mirror (24 page)

“What about the police? Could we have gotten in trouble?”

“Only if you’d not kept your mouth shut,” Tony said. “That constable upset you?”

“
Yes
. He was really
weird
. Like, he was all
over
you, Rima.” The girl suddenly scowled. “And what was all that
crap
about me being, you know … 
soft
? Like retarded or something? Don’t you guys know how insulting that is?”

After a short pause, Tony said, mildly, “You know, I do believe I fancied her more when she was mute.”

FIRST, IT HAD
been a shock: not just how she’d appeared, or how the Peculiar had lifted and the snow begun as soon as the girl was spat out, but her name:
Emma
. A name from the nightmare. Except
that
Emma hadn’t been a girl of twelve. Yet the eyes were the same, an exact match. So this was
another
Emma, just as they’d seen another Tony, Rima, Bode? For all their questions, there were no answers, and the frightened, confused girl knew even less. So then it had become a dilemma of what to do next.

“I don’t think we’ve any choice,” Tony said. “We had the dream and now she’s here. Don’t tell me it’s a coincidence, because we both know better. Thank goodness you were there, though. Those clothes … what she called them … 
shorts
? A
tea
shirt? Whatsat mean? It’s woven of tea leaves?” He frowned. “I’ve seen men in bathing costumes with better cover. She’d have frozen to death in minutes. Frankly, if you hadn’t seen it all yourself, anyone else would think she’d escaped from Bedlam. Her story’s mad.”

We’re all mad here
. Apt, considering. They were on the retort’s first floor, and Rima glanced toward a far corner, where they’d
tucked the girl until they decided what to do. Curled in a nest of burlap, the girl was asleep. Nestled against her back, the cat was watching.
That cat … maybe it’ll vanish and leave only a grin behind
.

She looked back at Tony. “Fine, we take care of her, but to what end? Why
not
try our luck with the Peculiar? She’s proof that it’s possible to traverse it and come out somewhere else. So perhaps she can get herself back to this
Wis
 … 
Wisconsin
?” Bizarre name; she’d never heard of the place. “Or show us how it’s done, and then we can leave here.” When he shook his head, she pressed, “But Tony, she knows
nothing
about any of this: not the Peculiar, the squirmers, rotters. Why
not
go?”

“I thought of that, but there are a couple problems, and you know it.” He began ticking off the items on his fingers. “First off, she didn’t mean to end up here. She plunged through this … this
door
. Who knows if it’s even open on her end anymore? I don’t get the sense that she understands what she did or how to do it again. Second, I think we’d have heard about any other people popping from the Peculiar, don’t you? And third, no one’s ever gone into the Peculiar and come back.”

“Who would want to come back to this?”

“You’re missing the point. With no idea of what we’re doing, we’re just as likely to end up … well, wherever people end up when the Peculiar swallows them. And there’s another thing: that woman with the glasses. Emma’s story of the window’s like what I saw with that other Tony and that mirror in my dream. What if the Peculiar is how that woman gets round? You want to run into
her
or more of her kind?”

“So what do we do?”

“What we’ve always done. We make our rounds tomorrow.”

“What about Emma?”

“I don’t see a choice but to take her with us, keep her close, unless you’ve a better idea. If we don’t, someone’s bound to wonder who she is, why she’s not going out. She opens her mouth, jig’s up. Besides, once people start getting back with their loads and she sees bodies going down a chute and into the furnace …”

“All right, all right.” He had a point. She only dreaded having to explain. Privately, she was also worried about the cat. Someone was sure to make stew of it before the day was out. “For how long?”

“Given our dreams? How I feel?” Tony let go of a weary sigh. “Something’s going to break, Rima, and soon. Only a matter of time.”

Just so long as it’s not you
. Yet from what the girl had said, and given what Rima had gleaned when she’d touched Tony’s mind, she thought it was only a matter of time before that woman came looking. When that happened, the woman with the purple eyes would find yet
another
Tony, a boy she’d
already
stolen in a nightmare.

And what of
her
Tony then?

NOW, SHE SAID
to Emma, “I agree. Doyle’s … odd.”

“Was it the knife, or when he touched you?” An instant later, Tony recognized his mistake and made a face. “Sorry.”

“What about the knife?” Emma looked from Tony to Rima and back again. When Tony hesitated, she put her hands on her hips. “Come on, you guys, I told you.”

“Cat’s out of the bag.” And then Tony gave a startled little laugh when Jack suddenly poked his head from the small sack
in which Battle had been so interested. “Ooof, when that Battle started rummaging around, I nearly had heart failure. Thought for sure he’d say something. Decent sort not to. All we need is more attention.”

“Actually, I thought that cat transformed himself into the Cheshire,” Rima said as Emma ruffled Jack’s ears. She couldn’t decide who was grinning more, Emma or the cat.

“He kind of does that,” Emma said. “Up and disappears. Sometimes it happens so fast, like he can be
right there
and then
poof
, it’s like he’s found a secret door or something only cats can see.”

“Never had a cat except in stew,” Tony said. “So I can’t comment.”

“Gross,” Emma said, though it sounded more like a reflex. Her tone had turned contemplative. “It
is
weird, how he does that. Jasper, my guardian, says Jack goes on walkabouts and not to worry, that he’ll find his way back. There’s this song … 
Oh, the cat came back, we thought he was a goner, yes, the cat came back …
da-dee-da-dee-da-deedee.” She shrugged. “I don’t remember the rest.”

“
The very next day
,” Rima sang, then felt her forehead crease. “How do I know that?”

“Jasper said it’s kind of an old song.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard it either … but that’s odd.” Tony’s face held a bemused expression. “In the song, don’t the cat drop dead and its ghost come back?”

“Yeah.” Emma’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “You sure you don’t know it?”

“Positive,” Rima and Tony said at the same time, and then Tony said, fast, “Jinx. There.” Reaching back, he gave her arm a light pinch. “Got ya.”

“Next time,” Rima said, wondering why her throat was suddenly so tight.
Maybe because it’s been forever since we’ve joked or had some fun
. Running a hand along the cat’s spine, she smiled when it licked her thumb with its rough tongue.
This is almost normal
.

“So what’s with the knife?” Emma said.

So much for normal. “I’ll tell you, but you really can’t say anything to anyone.”

“Yeah, right.” The girl rolled her eyes. “I’m mute, remember?”

Despite her anxiety, Rima grinned.
Girl’s got spirit, that’s for sure
. If
she’d
suddenly found herself shooting out of fog into the past—or a different world altogether—she thought she might be as wobbly as aspic for quite a while.
And how is it that I
accept
that she might be from a future time? Or another place?
“It’s only that I sense things.” She gave the girl a brief explanation, omitting her ability to draw sickness. No need to go into all the gory details, and besides, better safe than sorry. If word leaked of her talent, the scientists and doctors would never let her go. She’d spend the rest of her days chained to a post in some hospital, forced to draw sickness and rot until the Peculiar swallowed them all.
Or maybe lets us through, the way it did Emma
. What she wouldn’t give to go somewhere,
anywhere
, else. Their shared daydream of a cottage on Mull by the sea—she would be content with that. “I got something from Doyle’s knife, that’s all.”

“Wow.” The girl looked impressed. “Like, you’re a psychic? So, did he kill someone with it?”

Given how her fingertips still tingled, she thought that was pretty close. The contact hadn’t been long enough for anything as coherent as an image to truly firm. All she’d gotten were impressions: rage, pain. Blood, lots of it. “I got something else, though,
when I touched
him
, Doyle. A … 
presence
. But what popped into my head? Makes no sense. I thought,
Dog
.”

“A dog?” Emma echoed. “What kind?”

“Don’t know. Big, black.”
Red eyes?
“Not a nice dog.” Whatever this presence was, its touch had been very strange, complex. She swallowed, tasting only sour bile from an empty stomach.
Doyle’s got some sort of hunger, but not for food
,

There, there, my poppet, my dearest darling

and beneath that, there’s the dog
. The presence was sinister, something that would be at home skulking in a dank sewer.
Maybe that’s what’s driving him
.

“Well, maybe the dog wasn’t so great, but
Doyle
liked you,” Emma said. “He was practically falling all over himself. Think he’ll come looking?”

“
You’d
better hope not,” Tony said.

“We won’t be seeing him again.” Squaring her shoulders, Rima rearranged her grip on the cart, wincing at the burn. She’d given her mittens to Emma, and now her own hands were blocks of ice. “Come on, let’s get going.”

“Wait.” Emma peeled off her left mitten and held it out. When Rima started to shake her head, the girl said, “Come on, it’s not fair for you to freeze.”

“I’m fine,” Rima said.

“Oh bull.” Emma snorted. “If you don’t, I’ll talk to the next person we see.”

Tony’s eyebrows drew together. “Is it only you, or do
all
children argue with their elders where you come from?”

“Well, I only know Wisconsin. But”—the girl shrugged—“sure.”

AS THEY SKIRTED
the asylum’s main entrance, Rima saw that snow had tumbled from the portico to pile in high mounds along the front steps. In the bad light, she couldn’t be positive, but she thought that a chimney stack, immediately right of the dome, had collapsed, and that pediment was off-kilter, too. All this stone and old masonry—pity the poor nutters if the building came down, but at least it would be fast for them.

“Place gives me the creeps,” Emma said.

“No argument there,” Rima said. “Never have liked coming here.” Thinking,
So far as I can remember. If there have been other days
. Such an odd thought, but with the Peculiar, no one’s memory could be trusted. “Always brings on the jimjams.”

“No, I mean, it
really
freaks me out.” Emma sounded a little sick. “Like I’ve been here before. But … that can’t be right. I mean, I’ve
never
left Wisconsin.”

At the girl’s tone, Rima exchanged a look with Tony, who only shrugged. As far as Rima could remember, there was no building like this in her nightmare. “Do you recall something that stands out?” she asked.

Emma paused, then tilted her head back and pointed. “The dome. Can’t hardly see it, but … it’s got a lot of glass, right? And it’s a church or something?”

“Well, it’s got glass. Whole asylum does.” At that, what she thought was a true memory—or maybe only an impression—wavered into focus: how those windows looked, swarming with faces, as they did when the nutters crowded up. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if they
looked
mad; if they’d only raved and screamed and reached through the bars with hands starred to
claws. But most often it was like trudging past a colonnade of expressionless corpses with black holes where their eyes ought to be. “Lots of domes do, I’m sure.”

“But is it a church?”

“We can find out,” Tony said. “You think it’s important?”

“I don’t know,” Emma said, and it was then that, over the girl’s head, Rima caught a wink that solidified into a steady, brassy glow, as someone with a lamp moved within a second-story room. The glow stopped, and then grew brighter and swam closer to a window, like a curious fish in a bowl—and became a man’s face. A spiderweb of cracks marred the glass, and at first she thought the unevenness of his features, the way the man’s face fractured, was an effect of the ruined panes. A second glance, though, and she realized that the man himself was a ruin. Half his face was absolutely still, as frozen as cold candle wax.
God
. He looked like a walking corpse. Rima felt his eyes. He might be only curious, but she didn’t like that he wasn’t moving on.
He’s interested
. She read it in the inquisitive cock of his head to the right, like a terrier trying to decide if that rat was worth the trouble.
Why?
They
were
just rats, out to gather the dead.

“You okay?” She looked down to find Emma studying her. Turning her head, the girl followed her gaze. “It’s just a light,” Emma said.

Which I don’t like
. Something about a window was important. Perhaps someone she’d spotted there? Who? “It’s nothing,” she said, against another tickle of unease.

“Uh-huh,” Emma said, and turned to face forward. “Come on, let’s go. Place gives me the jimjams.”

Lost the Fork

AFTER HE LEFT
Kramer’s office—and Meme; God, he’d bolloxed that—Bode thought he was home free. Surely, Kramer and Graves were on a different floor by now. But then, just before he slipped through the door leading from the ward to the landing, his heart gave an unpleasant lurch. Directly ahead, big as life, were Kramer, lamp in hand, and Graves, at a window that looked onto the front lawn.

Damme
. Bode slowed and, for a split second, thought about doing a quick about-face and bolting into a side room. But then Graves turned, spotted him, and called, “Bode, come here at once!”