The Black Tattoo (24 page)

"I mean," the Emperor went on, gesturing out at the arena floor, "we've had shorter bouts, of course we have.
 
But they've always been a bit more interesting than
that
."

The Emperor was looking at Charlie carefully, studying his reaction.
 
A small smile played across his lips.

Charlie didn't move.

"
Wait
, Charlie
," the Scourge told him firmly, speaking directly into his mind so the Emperor wouldn't hear.
 
"
Our time will come, but only if you
wait
."

"You may leave us, Khentimentu," said the Emperor, still smiling.
 
"Now."

"
Thank you, Sire
," the Scourge replied.
 
"
Come, Charlie
."

They vanished.

When Charlie and the Scourge had gone, the Emperor relaxed on his mountain of cushions and munched meditatively on a sweetmeat.

Gukumat, at his side, bowed once more.

Shall I dispose of the small human in the usual way?

"No!" said the Emperor.
 
"Heavens, no!
 
What possible use could we have for a puny little blood-sack like that?
 
I won't have my powers diluted, you know."

Indeed not, Sire
, the Overminister replied.
 
How foolish of me.

"Still," said the Emperor slowly.

Sire?

"Send him to Godfrey."

As you wish, my lord.

As soon as the command was given, it was done.

The Emperor settled back.
 
Already the next combatants were entering the pit.

*
       
*
       
*
       
*
       
*

"He killed him," Charlie was saying.
 
His eyes were unfocused:
 
he was white and shaking.
 
"He killed Jack!"

He and the Scourge were standing on the Needle again — the highest point of Hell, the place the demon had taken Charlie to first.

"
Charlie
—"

"Jack's dead!" said Charlie.
 
"Jack followed me here, and now he's—"

"
Charlie, listen to me
," said the Scourge gently.
 
"
What do you want to do
?"

Staring at the Scourge, Charlie thought about it.

He thought about staying up with Jack until four in the morning, watching zombie movies when they were supposed to be asleep.

He thought about the time in the Chinese restaurant with his dad:
 
how he'd known Jack would come in with him and back him up, almost without having to ask him.
 
Jack had always come with him, in all the time Charlie'd known him — even here, to Hell.

Jack's music taste was thoroughly dubious.
 
His clothes were all bought by his mum.
 
But Jack was Charlie's friend.
 
And now he was gone.
 
He was gone, and the Emperor had smiled.

Charlie drew one hand across his nose, wiping away the tears and snot onto the leg of his black jeans.
 
He blinked.

"The Emperor," he said slowly, figuring it out.
 
"I want to kill the Emperor."

"
I do too
," said the Scourge.

They looked at each other.

"Killing him," said Charlie.
 
"That's what you—?"

"
If we kill the Emperor
," said the Scourge, "
we can take his place on the throne.
 
And then all his power — all Hell itself — will be ours, to do with as we wish
."

"Can we do it?" asked Charlie.
 
"Do you think it's possible?"

"
As I said
," the Scourge replied, "
it won't be easy.
 
But our chances will be greatly improved, I believe, if we work together
."

Charlie sniffed again and looked out at the view.
 
All around them, Hell glittered like dewdrops on a spiderweb.
 
Already, the warm breeze was drying his tears to a crust.

"All right," he said.
 
"Let's do it."

"
Good
," said the Scourge.
 
"
Very Good
."

ORIGINS

Holding steady in the air seven floors up outside Alembic House, Esme reached out one hand and knocked.

After a long pause, the curtains on the other side of the window slid open by perhaps a foot, and a white-faced, stunned-looking Felix loomed up out of the shadows of the room beyond.

"We have to talk," Esme mouthed through the glass.

Floating smoothly some two feet away from the wall, she slid through the air round the corner and came upon a small balcony, accessible from an open French window.
 
Felix was waiting for her there.
 
Esme spread her arms, drifted up over the balustrade, and touched down, her bare feet cold on the stone.
 
Then she looked at him.

"Hi," said Felix, attempting a smile.

"Hello," said Esme.

"Are you up early?"
 
Or late?" Felix asked, once he'd closed the window.
 
"I was just, ah, having a drink.
 
The president of Paraguay has sent me some rather wonderful brandy.
 
I don't suppose you'd—?"

Esme shook her head.

"Quite right!" said Felix awkwardly.
 
"Very well, then.
 
Do come through."

Silently, Esme followed him into the sitting room.
 
The thick curtains were drawn tight:
 
only one or two shafts of daylight betrayed the fact that it was early morning.

"All right," said Felix.
 
"What can I do for you?"

"What do you know about a group called the Sons of the Scorpion Flail?" Esme asked bluntly.

Felix blinked.
 
"Well," he said, "officially, they don't exist, of course.
 
Off the record, I've heard... rumors.
 
They started out as a branch of the Freemasons, would you believe.
 
They've been peddling their supernatural cloak-and-dagger act all over the world for more than three hundred years.
 
Why do you ask?"

"They've taken over the theater," Esme told him.

"Esme," said Felix slowly, looking at her, "would you mind telling me what's going on?
  
The Scourge attacked me, and the next thing I knew I was lying on a table in the butterfly room.
 
No one was around, so I called my driver and now—"

"The Scourge has escaped to Hell," Esme interrupted.
 
"Raymond is dead."

"Oh, Esme," said Felix, shocked.
 
"I'm so sorry."

Esme just shook her head.
 
She wasn't interested in sympathy.

"Just before the Scourge killed him," she began, then stopped.
 
The word
killed
seemed to have a physical shape:
 
it left a tingling mark on her tongue.
 
"It said something.
 
It said that it's too late for me.
 
It said that it's always been too late for me and that I should 'just ask Felix.'
 
What do you think it meant?"

She looked at him.
 
He had gone very still.

"It killed them all, Felix," she said, when he didn't answer.
 
"Nick, Jessica, Raymond — everyone.
 
But you woke up and went home like nothing had happened.
 
It left you alive, Felix.
 
Why?"

For another long moment there was silence.

"What did Raymond tell you," Felix asked, turning his glass in his hands, "about why I let out the Scourge?"

"He said that you did it for power," Esme answered.
 
"He said you released the Scourge because the others in the Brotherhood were always better at stuff than you:
 
you did it because you were jealous."

"Jealous?" echoed Felix with a sad smile.
 
"Well, that's true in a way, I suppose.
 
But I didn't release the Scourge just for power."

"No?
 
Why, then?"

Felix took a deep breath.
 
"I suppose it's time you heard the truth."
 
Gesturing at another chair, he sat down and took a sip of his brandy.

Esme crossed her arms and just waited.

"A long time ago," said Felix slowly, "I... met someone."
 
He looked up at Esme.
 
"She was beautiful, clever, and thoroughly wonderful, and I loved her with an intensity that I scarcely would've believed possible.
 
There was, however, one problem."
 
He paused.
 
"She was in love with somebody else."

Esme just looked at him.

"We worked together, she and I," said Felix, "so I was lucky enough to see her every day.
 
I told myself I'd learn to be content with that.
 
Perhaps I even believed it.
 
But as time dragged past and my feelings didn't change, I began to become sick."

Felix sipped again.

"The color drained out of my life," he said.
 
"My love was eating me up inside like a disease:
 
sometimes I thought I could feel it killing me.
 
And then, one day, one horrible day, I thought of something I could do about it."

"What?"

"Magic," said Felix simply.

Esme stared at him.

"Nick taught us how to use our power in different ways," Felix explained.
 
"Disguise was one.
 
My attempts were always short-lived — partial, at best — but the potential of it began to obsess me.
 
You see, with enough power, it seemed to me, a person could make themselves resemble
anyone
.
 
You could even make yourself look so much like someone else that
nobody would know the difference
.

"Of course," he added, "I knew I couldn't do it alone.
 
As you say, I just wasn't strong enough.
 
But it occurred to me that I knew someone who might be."

"Who?" Esme asked.

"One night," said Felix, "that was all I wanted:
 
one night with the woman I loved.
 
And I realized that there was a way I could be granted that."
 
He looked at Esme, hard.
 
"For a price."

There was a pause.

"You don't—" said Esme.

Then, "No.
 
You're not seriously telling me that's what you—"

Her brain was reeling.
 
She could hardly get the words out.

"I mean, that's why you did it?
 
That's
why you let out the Scourge?
 
So it could help you
pretend to be my dad
and..."
 
She made a face.
 
"With my
mother?
"

"I loved her," said Felix solemnly, "more than my own life.
 
More than life itself — more than anything.
 
And if I could have her love, even just once—"

"Even though she thought you were someone else?"

"Even though it was a lie," said Felix.
 
"You're still young.
 
You don't underst—"

"I understand pretty well.
 
That's the weirdest, most disgusting, pathetic—"

"Call me names, if you like," said Felix.
 
"You'll find it doesn't help.
 
Believe me."

"But... you released the Scourge!" Esme spluttered.
 
"You betrayed the Brotherhood!
 
For—"

"Look," said Felix.
 
"You know the phrase 'madly in love'?
 
Have you ever thought about what that means?
 
As long as I got what I wanted, I didn't care what happened!
 
As long as I got," he repeated slowly and sadly, "what I wanted."

There was another pause.
 
A long one this time.

"So, all right," said Esme, grimacing.
 
"That's why you let out the Scourge.
 
But that's got nothing to do with
me
, has it?
 
What did the Scourge mean when it said it was 'too late' for me?
 
That's what I'm asking."

"And that — I'm afraid — is what I'm telling you."

"Felix," said Esme, "I'm getting fed up now.
 
Why don't you just tell me what you mean?"

Felix took a big swig of his brandy and swallowed hard.

"When I let the demon out," he said heavily, "it didn't make the break for the Fracture straightaway.
 
The Scourge was weak to begin with:
 
weak enough for me to think I could control it.
 
It took over nine months before I found out how wrong I was.
 
What a horrible mistake I'd made."

"Wait a second," said Esme.
 
"Nine months?
 
Nine months
went past between you releasing the Scourge and it...?"

Then suddenly, she felt a great rushing sound, like black wings closing around her.
 
The world went dark, and all she could hear were voices.

There's something a bit special about you
, said one.

It's always been too late for her
, said another.

And then, with dreadful inevitability, something inside her clicked and fell into place.

"No," she said.
 
"No.
 
It
can't
be."