Hexad: The Ward (10 page)

"Don't even ask," said an exasperated Amanda.

"Hey, Peter," said Dale, shouting from the kitchen then poking his head around the door to the living room.

Amanda couldn't help smile, he had that same stupid look he always had after relieving himself. He looked so pleased with himself, like he'd done his bladder a massive favor and it owed him one in return.

Gosh, I do love him, sticking up hair and all.

"Hey, Dale," said Peter, stroking the cat.

"Is that a cat?" asked Dale. Amanda and Peter just stared at him. "What? Well, yeah, I suppose I know it's a cat. But you know what I mean. What's it doing here? Did you get a cat, Peter?"

"Guys, it isn't my cat, it's yours. You've had him a couple of months now. He just turned up. Not that he's ever around for long before going off on some cool cat adventure."

"Huh?" was all Dale managed.

"I'd never have a cat, they're evil," said Amanda. For some reason a nightmare vision of thousands of cats staring at her in Venice popped into her head but she shook it off. Cats were evil, everyone knew that.

"He's lovely. Wow, this is so weird, guys. How can you stand this not knowing stuff you've already done? This is messing with my head and I'm not the one that can't remember."

"You get used to it," said Dale offhandedly.

"I don't," said Amanda. "How the hell did we agree to have a cat? Is it a kitten? He looks tiny."

Wozzy poked his head out of the bottom of Peter's jumper and gave a massive yawn. He seemed to decide that he'd acknowledge the presence of Amanda and Dale for the first time and before Amanda knew what was happening the cat was sauntering toward her across the precious carpet.

"Look at his balls!" exclaimed Dale. "They're so big he has to walk with a swagger. He looks like John Wayne. Wow!"

"To answer your question, Amanda, when you took him to the vet they said he was probably about three. Maybe just got lost and ended up here. You put up fliers but nobody claimed him, so he stayed."

"Ugh. Cats." Amanda slumped into a chair and Wozzy leaped up onto her lap and snagged his way up her blouse, leaving a trail of destruction behind him.

He nuzzled under her chin, lowered himself, seemingly pleased with his work, spun around three times on her lap then promptly fell asleep. "Nice moggy," said Amanda, patting the creature carefully for fear she might break him or he might rip her face off. He looked so small, but dangerous too. Amanda shifted a leg and pain shot up her thigh. "Ow, ow, ow. Damn!"

"Don't move when he's on you," warned Peter. "He doesn't like it."

Amanda kept still and said, "Dale, can you check for... um, anything in the kitchen."

Dale looked nonplussed. "Like what? I didn't see anything."

"Like the remains of something," said Peter helpfully.

God, what can something so small have done?

With a shrug of the shoulders, Dale wandered into the kitchen then returned a few seconds later holding a dead rabbit by the hind legs. "It was by the door. At least we know what we're having for tea."

"Ugh, that's so gross. He can't have brought that in, can he? The rabbit's bigger than him." Amanda tried not to move as Wozzy opened an eye lazily and gave her "that" look — the dreaded cat look.

"You'd be surprised," said Peter. "He's brought a few wild things in here, and out in the garden we once saw him catch two frogs, one with each paw. Remember?" Dale and Amanda stared at him, waiting for him to catch up. "Oh. Right, sorry. Well, anyway, you have a cat and he's called Wozzy."

"Wozzy?" said Amanda.

"Yeah, you know, as in 'What's he doing now?'"

"That doesn't sound very good," said Amanda, finding it really hard not to move now she knew she couldn't. Wozzy opened an eye again and gave her an extra intense warning. "What's he doing? Damn! I'm saying it already."

"See," said Peter smugly, "it fits perfectly. You gonna put the kettle on, Dale? After last night I think I need gallons of coffee before I feel all right again."

"And get rid of that rabbit. How on earth did he get it in? He couldn't have jumped up and got through the window with that thing, surely? Aah." Woozy started rumbling, a deep vibration that ran up her thighs, rattling her chest. It felt good, she had to admit. Maybe this was the attraction with cats: they were kind of nice when they were asleep and feeling happy.

"One of life's many mysteries," said Peter, as he grabbed a handful of what looked suspiciously like Amanda's last few Quality Street chocolates from her super-secret stash — she always saved the best ones for last too.

"Fine. You want one, Amanda?"

"Please, if not something stronger."

"We could always go to the pub. Um, no, scrap that," said Dale, and went to make coffee and take care of the dead gift from Wozzy.

Wozzy purred away in his sleep, tail twitching every now and then. Amanda looked down at the tiny ball of fur only to realize that she was stroking him.
Wow, never thought I'd see the day when me and a cat were friends.

"See?" said Peter, smiling as he scratched at his beard like sandpaper on wood. "I told you he was a nice guy."

"Hmm, we'll see." Amanda continued her stroking; he felt amazingly soft. She had a terrible urge to cross her legs though, but she didn't dare.

Ah! Simples, Innit?

Present Day

"Here you go," said Dale. He walked slowly into the living room, totally focused on the mugs of coffee, using the tray rather than trying to balance them and not spill them. He obviously didn't want to ruin the carpet either.

"Aah, lovely," said Peter, gulping down the scalding beverage, as usual seemingly inured to the heat. "Sugars?" he asked dubiously, peering at the dark liquid like he could read the sweetness level by sight alone.

Dale sighed. "Yes, Peter, I put three in. You aren't having four, it's just stupid."

"But I always have four," complained Peter.

"Not here you don't."

"No, I only give you two. It's pointless having coffee if you can't even taste it."

"You guys, it's just sugar. A bit of sugar never hurt anyone."

Dale and Amanda stared at each other, then at Peter — there was no point arguing with him about certain things, it would lead nowhere. He always had an explanation or a reason for everything — too much time hanging out with wackos was why, as far as Amanda was concerned. They could almost make you believe anything.

Although it had been a very restless night, even after the admittedly nice beer at the pub, Amanda didn't feel frumpy and hungover like she expected. There had simply been too much going on the day before for her to feel anything but bewildered and kind of not quite herself, as if she'd left something behind when they'd made the jump and she began to fade. It was as if some part of her never returned, or split between the other version of her in what she was now convinced was their correct reality.

What she couldn't seem to do was actually think about any of it properly — her head was too clouded with confusion. The whole mess was too much to take in, understand, or even attempt to unravel. What were they supposed to do now? How were they supposed to ensure that everything continued as they had been told it would by Tellan?

Did merely opening the tin then deciding they had to bury it, so they'd find it, start it all up again? Amanda suspected it did, and when she'd discussed it with Dale in bed the night before he was convinced that was exactly what was happening. They'd seen it, hadn't they, the other them going about what they'd been told they did before they put things right and it all just kind of faded into nothing? It never happened, or it did but then once it was finished with, especially once they, this they, had met themselves and delivered that daft book, then it was all gone, reality set right, everything back to normal.

But no, it wasn't. There was that reality and this one, and shouldn't this almost parallel universe have disappeared once they'd put things right before? Surely it should have? Or was it that it was fading, almost gone, but now they'd brought back other universes into being because of making a jump and because they had kept hold of a Hexed all this time, and now there was still one jump left?

What a mess. Did the final jump need to be used up, a sacrifice made, to set reality right?

"Amanda!" shouted Dale.

"Eh? Oh, sorry, I was miles away. Aaargh, ugh, help! Help!" Wozzy jumped up at Dale's shouting, startled from his slumber. His back arched, his ginger and white fur stood on end making him look twice as big, and his pupils were so dilated his eyes turned black. That was fine. It was having ten very, very sharp claws piercing her belly and her thighs that was the problem. "Get it off, get it off. Aaargh. Shoo, shoo, naughty cat."

Wozzy retracted his death-claws a little — Amanda could swear she heard a
snick
, he was more like Wolverine than a little moggy — and slowly relaxed his back once he knew there was no danger. He gave Amanda a dead stare, there was certainly no thanks for the comfortable place to rest, then hopped down from her lap and sauntered into the kitchen. A moment later there was a long, drawn out "Meow," before a noise like somebody scraping nails across metal screeched through the air.

"I think he wants his milk," offered Peter, trying to hide his smile.

Amanda looked at him, then turned to Dale when she heard him snigger. "What are you laughing at? I bet it will be your turn next. Look at my leggings, they're ruined." Amanda poked a finger through the holes, noting that her blouse was just as destroyed.

"Haha, sorry. I'll get the little guy some milk. If I don't, I think he'll probably scratch his way through the fridge."

Dale clattered about in the kitchen, talking in a silly voice to the cat, who replied with loud meows and a lot of leg clawing if his screams were anything to go by.

Amanda wondered why when you talked to animals, especially when you wanted them to like you, you spoke to them like they were babies, with lot's of "Oohs" and "Aahs," and a smattering of "Good kitty" thrown in for luck.

With some contented sighs coming from both Dale and Wozzy, there was no doubt that the milk had been given and Wozzy was lapping it up eagerly.

"He sure likes his milk," said Dale, reappearing moments later, with Wozzy trailing behind, licking his lips happily.

"I bet. And will you look at that swagger on him, he's almost bow-legged he walks with them so wide."

"That's because of his giant balls," said Peter matter-of-factly.

"Peter!"

"What? It's true, look at them. They're like two giant goose eggs hanging there. And the way he licks them you'd think they were made of chocolate."

"Ugh, that's so gross," said Amanda. "And I am definitely not going to go looking at his testicles, thank you very much."

"Suit yourself, they are a sight to behold and no mistake. Now, about yesterday." Peter put his coffee down, seemingly forgetting his new rule about using the coaster. Amanda moved it and scowled at him — he didn't notice. He leaned back on the sofa and put his hands behind his head.

"Have you changed your shirt?" asked Amanda, noting the sweat stains under his armpits.

"Eh? Oh, no, I forgot."

"You slept in your clothes again, didn't you?" accused Dale.

Peter smiled and tugged at his shirt a little before flattening it down as if it could get rid of the creases. "Might have done, but stop trying to change the subject. Yesterday, the time travel thing, all the stuff you told me, all the things you said you, the other you or maybe really you, what about all that?"

"What about it?" asked Dale with a shrug, keeping an eye on Wozzy, as pleased as Amanda when he curled up on the rug and began to lick where no person wants to watch a cat lick.

"Are you serious? It was mental, absolutely crazy. I can't believe you aren't totally hyped."

"Been there, done that," said Dale.

"I wish we could forget about the whole thing," said Amanda. "You'd think time travel would be cool, but it's just stressful."

"Do you want to hear my ideas or not?" asked Peter, with a smile that said he had the answer to the whole conundrum.

"Peter, if you can make sense out of any of it then be my guest. We can't come to any real understanding of it at all. It's too messed up. None of it makes sense. We've been over and over it for months, and now it seems things are different again to how we believed. If you can come up with an explanation for how it works then I'm all ears." Amanda was keen to hear what Peter had to say. He may come across as a slob and a bit odd, but he was a very intelligent man with a lot of valuable knowledge on countless subjects.

Dale leaned forward in his chair, clearly just as eager to hear anything that could help them understand what had happened and maybe get an insight into what they should do next.

"Okay, I shall begin." Peter squirmed on the sofa, doing what he always did and trying to make a nice groove to settle into. Amanda couldn't help comparing him to their new cat. "The way I've always thought of time travel, and what you've said kind of confirms that, is that if there is no chance of doing it, and it is pretty far-fetched let's face it, then there is this world, or
a
world at any rate, and we live in the present. Sounds right, yeah?"

Dale and Amanda nodded. Dale was about to say something but Amanda put a finger to her lips — there would be time for them to talk later, she wanted to hear this.

"Okay, so we have this world, we live in the present, and the past has happened, we can all agree on that. Now, the future is yet to come, so obviously that hasn't happened. That's what we all believe. But, and this is where it all goes screwy, as soon as you have a device that allows you to travel both backward, and forward, then all hell breaks loose."

"That's what we've been telling you, Peter, we know that," said Amanda.

"Yes, but you don't understand how it all works, or you wouldn't be letting me talk. Now hush, or I'll lose my train of thought." Peter gathered his thoughts for a moment, then continued. "So, now we have our Hexad, so we can jump to the future. But unless we actually make a jump then the future need not be there, and the fact is that the future can never have happened, as it hasn't happened yet."