Kill Fish Jones (13 page)

Grimshaw shook his ears. He knew he was a thorough demon and he was ready to bet that he hadn't overlooked anything. Something else had gone wrong and he wanted to know what it was. He wondered if, between his checking the futures and steering the junk, something could have changed. As if something had
interfered in a way that
altered all of the possible futures
. But what?

As he disconnected from the web, a movement in the sky grabbed his attention.

Beyond the rows of blank tombstones and the graveyard gate was a street whose dominating feature was concrete. Concrete was the one thing that Limbo did well. Where stone, brick and tile lost some basic element of their nature, concrete stayed the same. Which meant that its drab, squalid all-over-the-placeness shone out like a used plaster in an empty first-aid box.

Beyond the street, Grimshaw focused on three distant figures circling in the dull sky. The Sisters of Gladness. They were called the Sisters because they were sisters, and as for the gladness part … well, it was probably meant as a joke. Nobody was ever glad to see the Sisters.

Remembering the Horseman's words – that small demons belonged to the Sisters, whose job it was to
make them see
(whatever that meant) – an idea began to form in Grimshaw's mind.

As he watched, one of the Sisters dived, swooping out of sight behind the houses then rising again to join the others. He thought he could hear some horrible screaming and a lot of laughter. He was ready to bet his trousers that the laughter part was coming from the Sisters.

As there were not that many small demons in Limbo, the Sisters spent a lot of time tormenting the other
inhabitants of Grey Space. The Wanderers. Grimshaw had no time at all for Wanderers. To his mind they were just plain stupid. They were the humans who could not die properly because
they did not realise that they were dead in the first place
, and so could not go on to wherever it was they were meant to end up. Instead they had to wander Limbo until they worked it out. These Wanderers were the Sisters' favourite prey and he suspected that the screaming he could hear was coming from one of them.

The Sisters had singled out Grimshaw for attention a couple of times in the past and he knew how mean they could be. Once, they had pinned him under some rocks, all spreadeagled out so that he couldn't reach his chronometer, and he had had to stay there all day staring into the grey Limbo sky until a passing Wanderer had taken pity on him and let him go. Quite how that had been supposed to make him
see
anything he couldn't understand. For some reason, the thought of Beyond – the light behind the Grey Space sky – flitted across his brain, but he dismissed it. He didn't have time to think about that now.

Instead, he stared at the distant figures darting to and fro in the sky and wondered if they could answer the question of Fish Jones and his survival against the odds. After a moment, he found himself heading off towards the Sisters. It probably wasn't a good idea, and it would certainly hurt a lot, but it was worth a go.

In the street, four cars were arranged across the road. They were grey. Or at least grey with a hint of something that might have been a real colour once but had forgotten how to do it. The vehicles were also empty. Often, Limbo didn't bother with details like old sweet wrappers, CDs, window scrapers,
A–Z
s, last week's shopping still in the boot, etc., etc. It just copied the basic shell and left things at that.

The silent street rolled out before Grimshaw like a plaster model that no one could be bothered to paint. A double-decker bus stood just past the bus stop looking grey and forlorn.

When he was level with the Sisters, just a road away, Grimshaw realised that rather than walk up one street to go down the next, he could cut through the houses. So he dived across the road and headed up the garden path of the first one he came to.

Getting in wasn't a problem as locks didn't work in Limbo. Nor was there any glass in the windows, as glass, with its world of reflections and its magical
near-invisibility, was far too exciting to exist in Grey Space. Inside the house, Limbo had taken care to reproduce some details while totally ignoring others. There were no ornaments, pictures or items of clothing. There were no toys or games, but there were books on the shelves, ready to trap the unwary. There were no DVDs or videos, but there was a dead-looking TV. There were carpets and sofas and so on, but they had long ago forgotten how to be cosy.

Pushing open the door to the patio, Grimshaw lolloped down the garden and over the end wall, using a plastic table and chairs as a step up. This brought him into the garden of the house backing on to the one he had just cut through. Here he found a plastic paddling pool. There was no water in it, just as there was no water in any of the taps, lakes or rivers. All the water in Limbo was where it belonged – in the sea. A sea which (predictably) didn't do waves or tides or anything active like that.

Grimshaw hurried down the garden, picking up a hoe as he went. He charged through the house, which was pretty much the same as the last one, burst out through the front door and headed for the street. This was the street in which the Sisters were having fun, attacking a Wanderer.

Ahead, Grimshaw could see the man waving his arms defensively over his head. It was a pointless exercise. The Sisters were only playing with him. If they wanted to, they would have him in shreds in a moment.
One of them darted at him, lifting him into the air, then dropping him on to the road where he lay stunned.

Dragging the hoe, Grimshaw stepped forward. He dropped his backpack to the ground to give himself more freedom to move and to run if necessary.

The Sisters spotted him instantly. They had better vision than an eagle. Although they weren't as terrifying as the Horsemen, the Sisters weren't pretty to look at. At least, their heart-shaped faces were lovely, so long as they didn't smile and show their pointed teeth. Their hair was long and silky and floated on the air like thistledown, and the skin of their arms was smooth and golden, until it reached their bony-fingered, hook-nailed hands. But from the armpits down they were serpent-like with rough yellow-green scales on a torso that went straight into a twisting tail, without bothering about legs or anything. Their large bat-wings were the same unpleasant colour as their scaly bodies, but the most frightening thing about them was their eyes. These were the colour of emeralds and shone like lamps, and being caught in their gaze was like falling into a vast green emptiness from which you might never get out.

‘Ooh, look, Rage,' said the youngest, whose name was Lady. ‘It's Grimshaw!'

‘So it is,' sniggered Rage. ‘We were talking about him only this morning and here he is! Poor little Avatar.'

‘Third-raters always look so … pathetic, don't they?' said Flute. She was the middle one of the three and
easily the most cruel. ‘Remember the one like a pig with cramp?'

‘Wimble is a very fine Avatar,' snapped Grimshaw, tightening his grip on the hoe. A little way off, the man lying in a bloody heap on the ground began to groan as consciousness returned.

The Sisters stared at Grimshaw. He stared back.

‘I liked the pig one,' said Flute sweetly. ‘He was fun. He squealed so much.'

Grimshaw swallowed hard, flattening his ears against his skull and crouching closer to the ground. Behind the Sisters the man groaned and raised his head.

‘Oh, shut it up,' said Rage.

Flute darted forward, grabbed the man by the ankles and hoisted him off the ground. The movement revived him and he began to screech. Flute tossed him over a fence, where he hit a house, sliding to the ground with a strangled squawk.

‘I'm going to ask you a question,' said Grimshaw firmly, looking at Rage, ‘and you've got to tell me the answer, right?'

She burst out laughing, bobbing in the air above Grimshaw's head. The others joined in. Stabbing the hoe at them as threateningly as he could, Grimshaw inched around so that he had a solid garden wall at his back.

‘The Horsemen told me it was your job to make me see …' He paused, not knowing how to finish the sentence.

‘Oh, they did, did they?' Rage sighed. ‘Really, they
are
so
indiscreet.' She folded her arms and frowned at him. ‘Our main job is the Wanderers, so even if it's true, why would we want to help a pathetic little scrap of half-life like you?'

Lady yawned delicately. ‘I'm bored,' she said.

‘Because … it's what you're meant to do? It's the Rules!' snapped Grimshaw.

‘Oh,
Rules
,' sneered Flute. ‘There's no Rule tells us who to help. We've got
some
independence, you know, unlike you pitiful things.'

‘But you've
got
to help me, it's your job! King One said so.'

The Sisters swapped a glance. All three turned to gaze at him steadily, their green eyes bathing his face with light. Grimshaw got the feeling they were impressed by something. At any rate, he had their full attention now, though the thought made him shiver with fright. He really didn't see why the angel Avatars' help had to hurt so much.

‘Hmm, he told you his name, did he?' said Rage. ‘That's nice. Well, he should also have said that we'll get to you when we're good and ready.'

‘But I need you now!' yelled Grimshaw, hopping from paw to paw with frustration. ‘You've
got
to because … because if
you
don't, nobody else will!'

‘Funny little creature,' said Flute indulgently. ‘It wants to be helped! That's kind of sweet – so few of them appreciate our efforts. All they do is scream.' She glanced at her sisters.

Rage gave a tiny nod.

‘It's strange that you should want to ask us something,' said Lady, bobbing forward, ‘because we've got something to show you too. Let's see if your question and our answer match.'

Cautiously, Grimshaw lowered the hoe. ‘I want to know,' he said, ‘why Fish Jones survived? What was it that messed with the futures?'

There was a moment of silence. The Sisters' emerald eyes were suddenly cold and cruel and Grimshaw shivered as if the temperature had dropped, although such a thing was impossible in Limbo. Technically, like the Horsemen, the Sisters were angel Avatars, but they didn't look to Grimshaw anything like the pictures he had seen in Real Space books and paintings. You certainly wouldn't put one on a Christmas tree.

‘Wrong question,' murmured Lady. ‘What a pity.'

Rage bobbed forward, her green lamps peering into Grimshaw's inky ovals. The demon shrank away.

‘Tell you what – we'll answer two questions for you: the one you asked and the one you
should
have asked.' She stabbed a finger at him, nearly putting out an eye. ‘We'll even show you how things really are, by way of a bonus.' She brought her face close to his, so close that all he could see was the glow of her eyes. ‘If you have the wit to see,' she added, snarling the last bit.

Grimshaw shrieked as everything suddenly whirled and fell away beneath him. It took him a moment to realise that Lady had snatched him up and was rocketing
into the sky with her captive dangling upside down, gripped by her twisting tail! Far away and getting further, he saw his backpack and the hoe lying in the dusty earth, along with his notebook that must have fallen out of his pocket.

Lady slowed down a little and, giggling, began to spiral as she flew, spinning Grimshaw round and round. It made him feel sick. Rage began circling around her whirling sister, going in the opposite direction. It made Grimshaw feel even sicker.

‘Now, my little third-rate creation of a deceitful man's dying curse,' cooed Flute, flying so that she was keeping pace with Grimshaw, face to face. ‘We'll get to the question you actually asked later. First of all, let's work on the question you
should
have asked. Bear in mind that we are already cross with you for getting it wrong. It's very disappointing because you were doing so well, you even got a peek at Beyond. Are you going to throw up yet?' She reached out and hit him in the stomach.

Grimshaw threw up. Not a nice thing to have to do upside down. Some of it came out of his nose.

Lady dropped him. They let him fall a little way before Rage grabbed him and began to fly upwards again. The ground receded further and further, the church of St Peter and St Paul disappearing into the distance as they went on and up, heading north-east.

They were flying so fast that Grimshaw had to fight for breath. The land was already far behind and they were out over the flat, grey expanse of the Limbo sea. Flute was screeching in his ears as Lady hauled him along, flapping in their wake like a torn pennant in a gale. When they were high over the sea, they stopped flying and a game of toss the demon began. By now, Grimshaw was too busy screaming to worry about questions.

‘Ooops,' said Lady, missing him for the second time.

Flute dived, catching him by an ear. She twisted it hard and shook him.

‘Yaaargh! That hurts!'

‘Upside down is best. They throw up more.'

‘Sorry.' Flute threw him to Lady, who got him by the legs again, wrapping her tail tight around him. She began to drift in slow circles, with Rage in the centre, humming to herself. Rage hovered, turning on the spot with her arms folded, listening to Flute as she spoke.

‘Come on then, addleshanks,' cried Flute cheerfully.
She was flying upside down in front of Grimshaw, her luminous green eyes inches from his inky ones. He shut his tight so as not to see. ‘What
should
your question have been? What else has been bothering you lately? Let's see if you can guess.'

Grimshaw struggled to think. ‘If your job is to help us see the truth, why are you so mean about it?' he yelled crossly.