her effort.
But sleep came quickly, renewing her, and she dreamed for what seemed an eternity, laughing occasionally as she felt her strength surge back, and she saw herself coring a dozen heads at once without fatigue. Armies fell before her on a battlefield, their brains dropping into the dust like lumps of dough into flour. “That’s not the way to do it,” Benek said, standing next to her with their two daughters on his shoulders. “Softly, subtly. No one must ever know what you can do, until it’s too late. All they need to know is that you can make people die in a strange way, without being sure how it happens, without being able to prove anything against you. No, not die, just disappear is better. Less is always more. Maybe you’ll learn how to make people simply vanish.” Her two daughters gazed at her with love and admiration, but then hatred flashed into their father’s eyes and she felt a strange tickling in her head. “No!” she cried and sat up on the sofa, half expecting to glimpse her own brains on the rug before the darkness took her.
Shaken, she put her feet on the floor and composed herself. Benek was poisoning her thoughts, she told herself as she stood up and went over to the bag on the floor. It was time to crush his will once and for all.
She picked up the bag, went out the front door, and crept down the stairs to the basement, still feeling a bit weak, drawn by the need to humiliate Benek by showing him Gibney’s brains.
She paused at the entrance to the sub-basement and saw that the lock was broken. Pushing the door open, she hurried down the stairs, pushed open the lower door and saw the bent bars of the empty bed.
Her chest tightened with a deep breath. She went to the bed as if sleepwalking, put the bag down, and examined the broken posts. His desperation had made him strong, she realized.
Panic dissolved her anger as she imagined that she could be arrested at any moment. The house might already be surrounded. How many policemen could she core before they brought her down?
Not many. She was not yet strong enough for a prolonged battle. She had to flee the house before Benek came back with help, she told herself, grasping after what to do as she tried to estimate how long ago he had escaped, and how much time there had been since then for him to move against her. She had not been able to show him Gibney’s brains, so he might still be doubting what she could do. Just as well. He might come to her in the open and give her enough of a chance to finish him.
12
At his apartment Benek undressed and poured alcohol on his abraded wrists and ankles. He had been lucky to find his suit and escape before she came back; clearly, she had intended to bury everything at once.
He shuddered as he swabbed at his wounds, picturing the open grave in the chamber next door to the basement dungeon. Impossible as it seemed, she had planned to kill and bury him.
None of it had happened, he tried to tell himself. Well, maybe some of it, the possible parts. The rest seemed a lurid delusion, or a harmless game, but games were more fun when they were convincing.
The haggard stranger in the bath mirror brought tears to his eyes. Games also needed at least one fool. How could this have happened to him? He had reached out to someone, and had found— what? How would he be able to explain it to anybody? A crazy man coming off a three-day shack-up with a woman who’d filled him with drugs and alcohol, and made him believe that she could not be confronted directly, that she could empty anyone who threatened her—gut them like a fresh chicken or a fish. He was telling himself an insane story.
After all, what had he really seen? A few magician’s tricks did not make her immune to simple arrest. The charge? Drugging and kidnapping a police officer, assault and torture. It was enough.
He slept late into the next afternoon, then tried
But sleep came quickly, renewing her, and she dreamed for what seemed an eternity, laughing occasionally as she felt her strength surge back, and she saw herself coring a dozen heads at once without fatigue. Armies fell before her on a battlefield, their brains dropping into the dust like lumps of dough into flour. “That’s not the way to do it,” Benek said, standing next to her with their two daughters on his shoulders. “Softly, subtly. No one must ever know what you can do, until it’s too late. All they need to know is that you can make people die in a strange way, without being sure how it happens, without being able to prove anything against you. No, not die, just disappear is better. Less is always more. Maybe you’ll learn how to make people simply vanish.” Her two daughters gazed at her with love and admiration, but then hatred flashed into their father’s eyes and she felt a strange tickling in her head. “No!” she cried and sat up on the sofa, half expecting to glimpse her own brains on the rug before the darkness took her.
Shaken, she put her feet on the floor and composed herself. Benek was poisoning her thoughts, she told herself as she stood up and went over to the bag on the floor. It was time to crush his will once and for all.
She picked up the bag, went out the front door, and crept down the stairs to the basement, still feeling a bit weak, drawn by the need to humiliate Benek by showing him Gibney’s brains.
She paused at the entrance to the sub-basement and saw that the lock was broken. Pushing the door open, she hurried down the stairs, pushed open the lower door and saw the bent bars of the empty bed.
Her chest tightened with a deep breath. She went to the bed as if sleepwalking, put the bag down, and examined the broken posts. His desperation had made him strong, she realized.
Panic dissolved her anger as she imagined that she could be arrested at any moment. The house might already be surrounded. How many policemen could she core before they brought her down?
Not many. She was not yet strong enough for a prolonged battle. She had to flee the house before Benek came back with help, she told herself, grasping after what to do as she tried to estimate how long ago he had escaped, and how much time there had been since then for him to move against her. She had not been able to show him Gibney’s brains, so he might still be doubting what she could do. Just as well. He might come to her in the open and give her enough of a chance to finish him.
12
At his apartment Benek undressed and poured alcohol on his abraded wrists and ankles. He had been lucky to find his suit and escape before she came back; clearly, she had intended to bury everything at once.
He shuddered as he swabbed at his wounds, picturing the open grave in the chamber next door to the basement dungeon. Impossible as it seemed, she had planned to kill and bury him.
None of it had happened, he tried to tell himself. Well, maybe some of it, the possible parts. The rest seemed a lurid delusion, or a harmless game, but games were more fun when they were convincing.
The haggard stranger in the bath mirror brought tears to his eyes. Games also needed at least one fool. How could this have happened to him? He had reached out to someone, and had found— what? How would he be able to explain it to anybody? A crazy man coming off a three-day shack-up with a woman who’d filled him with drugs and alcohol, and made him believe that she could not be confronted directly, that she could empty anyone who threatened her—gut them like a fresh chicken or a fish. He was telling himself an insane story.
After all, what had he really seen? A few magician’s tricks did not make her immune to simple arrest. The charge? Drugging and kidnapping a police officer, assault and torture. It was enough.
He slept late into the next afternoon, then tried
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