the least damaged cigarette. ‘God help us.’ He lights up. ‘I’ve got to get going. Sally has bridge tonight, I have to look after the kids.’
‘Be careful,’ I say.
‘If the last few months have taught me anything, it’s exactly that.’ He smiles. ‘I’ll be careful, and you, too. Don’t go running into anything without letting me know – and even then, maybe think before you run.’
11
T im’s bodyguards stand outside my parents’ place. Dad wouldn’t have tolerated this. Mum would have laughed, maybe made a reference to Whitney Houston and Kevin Costner.
They’re two burly guys who Lissa tells me are called Travis and Oscar. Both of them arrived about twenty minutes before me. Tim doesn’t mess around. I rather suspect he had this organised well before he broached the subject with me. They are armed and stationed at opposite ends of the house. Oscar’s at least my height, and nearly that wide, but it’s all muscle. Travis is even bigger. I’m not too sure about all this, having guns in and around the house – they’re nothing but trouble. Dr Brooker’s right about that much.
I’ve drawn enough souls, who were killed by guns, to the Underworld, been nearly killed by guns myself. But this time I suppose they’re a necessary evil. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.
We’ve just finished dinner, and I’m on my third beer, helping with the washing up (Dad didn’t believe in dishwashing machines) when Lissa fixes me with apeculiar, disappointed stare. ‘When were you going to tell me about Suzanne’s deal?’
I lift my foot with exaggerated care, even groan a little, but it doesn’t cut it as a sympathy maker. Lissa’s hands are on her hips now, and she’s scowling at me.
I drop the scrubbing brush into the sink and stop myself from asking who told her. ‘Look, I’ve been a little distracted of late.’
‘I know, but this is big. You’re talking about the most influential member of the Orcus. What does she want with you?’
‘She’s going to give me ten Pomps to supplement our numbers, and all I have to give her is ten hours of my time.’
‘I don’t like it. Suzanne could do a lot with ten hours.’
‘Not nearly as much as you, my dear.’ I know I’ve said the wrong thing at once. I narrowly avoid a tea towel in the eye.
‘She has a reputation, you know.’
I feel my face flush. ‘You’ve got nothing to worry about.’
‘Don’t tell me what I do and don’t have to worry about.’
‘Hang on, you wanted me to get involved, to work harder. And that’s what I’m doing, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t trust her, and you shouldn’t either. The woman’s a scheming bitch!’
That vehemence in Lissa’s voice gets my attention.
What has Suzanne done to her?
‘Think about it,’ she says. ‘They’re pushing so hard. The phone call at 2:30 in the morning. The meeting in the Deepest Dark. Cerbo’s offer – and then someone starts shooting at you.’
‘Lissa, they’re Americans. They’re brash, they’re proud.’
‘Exactly. And who loves guns more?’ She hangs up the tea towel.
‘No, I’m willing to accept that they’re playing at something, but the shooting, it’s got to be a coincidence. Maybe it’s something to do with the Death Moot. Maybe it’s something to do with the Stirrer god – perhaps it has other agents here. What I know for certain is that we need more Pomps. Look at what it’s doing to you. Look at your palms.’
I know how much they must hurt. When Morrigan started his Schism, and as the Stirrers stepped up their invasion, my hands became open sores. And then there was the consequence of pomping itself – the psychic pain and damage. With every pomp it built until you felt as though you were being scratched from the inside out. Things weren’t that bad, but they could be better.
‘I’m all right,’ she says. ‘Things are improving.’
I lean in to kiss her but she pulls away.
‘I don’t think you should do it. Just tell
‘Be careful,’ I say.
‘If the last few months have taught me anything, it’s exactly that.’ He smiles. ‘I’ll be careful, and you, too. Don’t go running into anything without letting me know – and even then, maybe think before you run.’
11
T im’s bodyguards stand outside my parents’ place. Dad wouldn’t have tolerated this. Mum would have laughed, maybe made a reference to Whitney Houston and Kevin Costner.
They’re two burly guys who Lissa tells me are called Travis and Oscar. Both of them arrived about twenty minutes before me. Tim doesn’t mess around. I rather suspect he had this organised well before he broached the subject with me. They are armed and stationed at opposite ends of the house. Oscar’s at least my height, and nearly that wide, but it’s all muscle. Travis is even bigger. I’m not too sure about all this, having guns in and around the house – they’re nothing but trouble. Dr Brooker’s right about that much.
I’ve drawn enough souls, who were killed by guns, to the Underworld, been nearly killed by guns myself. But this time I suppose they’re a necessary evil. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.
We’ve just finished dinner, and I’m on my third beer, helping with the washing up (Dad didn’t believe in dishwashing machines) when Lissa fixes me with apeculiar, disappointed stare. ‘When were you going to tell me about Suzanne’s deal?’
I lift my foot with exaggerated care, even groan a little, but it doesn’t cut it as a sympathy maker. Lissa’s hands are on her hips now, and she’s scowling at me.
I drop the scrubbing brush into the sink and stop myself from asking who told her. ‘Look, I’ve been a little distracted of late.’
‘I know, but this is big. You’re talking about the most influential member of the Orcus. What does she want with you?’
‘She’s going to give me ten Pomps to supplement our numbers, and all I have to give her is ten hours of my time.’
‘I don’t like it. Suzanne could do a lot with ten hours.’
‘Not nearly as much as you, my dear.’ I know I’ve said the wrong thing at once. I narrowly avoid a tea towel in the eye.
‘She has a reputation, you know.’
I feel my face flush. ‘You’ve got nothing to worry about.’
‘Don’t tell me what I do and don’t have to worry about.’
‘Hang on, you wanted me to get involved, to work harder. And that’s what I’m doing, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t trust her, and you shouldn’t either. The woman’s a scheming bitch!’
That vehemence in Lissa’s voice gets my attention.
What has Suzanne done to her?
‘Think about it,’ she says. ‘They’re pushing so hard. The phone call at 2:30 in the morning. The meeting in the Deepest Dark. Cerbo’s offer – and then someone starts shooting at you.’
‘Lissa, they’re Americans. They’re brash, they’re proud.’
‘Exactly. And who loves guns more?’ She hangs up the tea towel.
‘No, I’m willing to accept that they’re playing at something, but the shooting, it’s got to be a coincidence. Maybe it’s something to do with the Death Moot. Maybe it’s something to do with the Stirrer god – perhaps it has other agents here. What I know for certain is that we need more Pomps. Look at what it’s doing to you. Look at your palms.’
I know how much they must hurt. When Morrigan started his Schism, and as the Stirrers stepped up their invasion, my hands became open sores. And then there was the consequence of pomping itself – the psychic pain and damage. With every pomp it built until you felt as though you were being scratched from the inside out. Things weren’t that bad, but they could be better.
‘I’m all right,’ she says. ‘Things are improving.’
I lean in to kiss her but she pulls away.
‘I don’t think you should do it. Just tell
Similar Books
