Wizard Squared (50 page)

Bloody hell. A
little
pain? The dark incants and hexes had sharp teeth and claws and they were tearing holes in his etheretic aura. Burrowing into his
potentia
. He could feel himself… changing. Could feel a shadow, encroaching.

Oh no. Oh no. What thÛ Oh hie hell have I done?

He would’ve fallen, if the other Gerald wasn’t holding him up. He felt himself clinging. Heard himself say:
“Don’t let go.”

“It’s all right, Gerald,” said his other self, so kindly. “Don’t be frightened. I’ve got you. You’re safe with me. You’re safe.”

And then the dark magic inside him finished unfolding and caught fire. Seared every nerve and sinew as it flashed through him, incandescent.

“There,” said the other Gerald, pleased. “All finished.” Letting go, he stepped back. “And doesn’t that feel better?”

The pain was gone. That was better. But the shadow—the shadow—

“Yes,” he said, blinking. “I’m fine.”

“I knew you would be,” said his counterpart, who then turned and kicked Monk. “Get up, Markham. You’ve got work to do.”

Slowly, painfully, Monk rolled to his hands and knees. Took a deep breath and staggered to his feet. “Look. I’m going to need him for more than a couple of hours. This bloody contraption of yours—I don’t know if you understand how complicated it is, Gerald.”

“Thank you, I’m not an idiot,” the other Gerald said coldly. “How long do you need him?”

“All night would be good.”

“
All night?
Markham—”

“Oh, Gerald, don’t go on,” said Bibbie. “Isn’t it better that he’ll be locked in here with Monk? At
least this way you won’t have to worry about keeping an eye on him. Once the lab doors are hexed that’s it. He’s just another Reg in a tiny little cage.”

“I suppose so,” said the other Gerald, grudging. “But let’s get one thing clear, Monk—if he’s staying the night that means no more excuses. I want to find my machine finished and foolproof when I come back in the morning. Is that clear?”

“Actually,” said Gerald, not looking at Monk, “instead of making assumptions that I can help, maybe you should explain what this contraption of yours—”

“Monk’ll explain it,” snapped his counterpart. “I don’t have time. Bibbie—”

“Finally,”
said Bibbie, going to him. “I was about to die of boredom. You’re taking me out to dinner, Gerald. A very expensive, very exclusive, very
rarified
dinner.
And
you’re giving me a gold-and-diamond bracelet.”

The other Gerald laughed. “Am I? All right.”

Gerald looked away as they kissed, not envious any more. Just ill and revolted. He felt Monk’s shocked horror like a blow. Poor bugger. Bet he was sorry he’d come, now.

The laboratory door banged closed behind them, and then came an obliterating surge in the ether as the multiple, unbreakable locking-hexes and incants were reengaged.

“Right,” said Monk, once the etÛnk,kabheretic ripples had faded. “Come on, Gerald. We’re getting the hell out of here.”

“What?” he said, staring. “Um—no. No, we’re not. We can’t, Monk. Not yet.”

The Reg in the cage started bouncing up and down, banging her beak against the bars so hard she risked hurting herself. Poor thing.

“Oh, blimey,” said Monk, and crossed to the cage. “Hang on—hang on—Gerald—unhex the door, would you? I can’t. This bloody shadbolt.”

Yes. The shadbolt. How the devil had he managed
that
? How had he managed
any
of this?

“Gerald, I’ll explain later! Just open the bloody cage!”

Thanks to the dark magics the other Gerald had given him, the filthy incants binding the cage door surrendered without a fight.

“Wait—wait—” said Monk, carefully extracting agitated Reg from her prison. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Released from her prison, with the red ribbon gag discarded, Reg shot into the air, an indignant blur of feathers. “Not yet? Not yet? What d’you mean,
not yet
? Gerald Dunwoody,
I want to go home!
”

Stunned, he watched her flap furiously around the lab. That was Reg.
His
Reg. But—but—

I was going to let Gerald kill her. I was going to let him snap her neck. Oh my God… oh my God…

Furious, he turned on Monk. “Bloody hell, Markham, what’s
she
doing here? What the hell were you
thinking
, bringing Reg into this?”

“Hey, don’t look at me!” Monk retorted. “I didn’t invite her, she invited herself!”

“Then why didn’t you
un
invite her? Why didn’t you send her packing as soon as you realized—”

“Shut up, the pair of you!” said Reg, landing in a flapping of wings on the top of the cage. “Do I look
like a wishbone at the family picnic? Has interdimensional sightseeing scrambled your brains? Monk Markham, get us
out
of here!”

Abruptly exhausted, Gerald headed for the nearest bit of empty wall and slid down it. His head was pounding. “
No!
I told you, nobody’s going
anywhere
. At least,
I’m
not going anywhere. I suppose you two can do what you like.”

“Bloody hell,” said Monk, and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “
Gerald
—”

“
Don’t
,” he snapped. “I’ve had a
very
bad day.”

“It’s no use, sunshine,” Reg sighed, rattling her tail. “You know what he’s like. We’ll have to hear him out. Only first you’d better make sure my pathetic twin hasn’t carked it.”

“Bugger,” said Monk. “I forgot about her.”

Gerald watched, lost for words, as Monk ducked into the lab’s bathroom and came out again a moment laterÛ a m"> cradling a limp draggle of feathers against his chest. “She’s all right, I think,” he said. “Just weak.”

“Yes, I’m fine,” said the other Reg. Her eyes were glazed, and there was no familiar gloss on her feathers. “Just tired. And thirsty.”

“Well, don’t sit there gawking at her, Gerald,” Reg snapped, waspish. “Fetch her some water. Fetch enough for both of us. I’m parched too.”

Water. Yes. Right. Good idea. He scrambled to his feet, snatched up two empty beakers and took them into the bathroom. It was empty. No second Monk. Everywhere he turned, another bloody mystery. After filling the beakers with water he went back out to the lab.

“So where is he, then?” he said. “This world’s Monk, I mean. You must have him stashed somewhere.”

“He’s dead,” Monk said flatly, perched on the lab’s only stool. “Look. Give that poor bird a drink, and Reg, and then I’ll tell you what’s been going on. Maybe then you’ll understand why we have to get out of here before that bastard comes back.”

Dead? The other Monk was dead? Then where was the body? “But Monk—”

“Just hear me out, Gerald! I think you owe me that much!”

Right. Right. Monk was upset. “Fine,” he said, then looked around the locked lab. “Only, is it safe to talk? He could be listening.”

“I’ve checked,” said Monk. “We’re safe. Gerald—”

“Yes. Sorry.”

Monk had settled the other Reg on the makeshift bed’s pillow. He put one beaker down on the bench for his Reg, then sat beside the other one, braced his back against the wall and offered her a drink.

“Thank you,” she murmured, after drinking, then almost immediately drifted into a doze.

Bloody hell, she looks rough. I can’t imagine what she’s been through…

Having drunk her own fill, his Reg flapped down from the bench to perch on his bent knees. He stroked a finger down her wing, so pleased to see her. “All right, Monk. I’m listening.”

Slumped on his lab stool, Monk started talking. At last, when he stopped, Gerald looked at him. He felt pummeled. No, pulverized. Thrashed to an emotional pulp.

But that’s probably nothing compared to what Monk’s feeling.

“Bloody hell.”

Monk snorted. “You’re telling me.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’ll live.”

Oh, very funny. It wasn’t remotely true, either. Monk was holding himself together, but only just.

But that’s a conversation for another time and place.

“And
nobody
in the government outside Sir Alec knows about
any
of it?”

“Not when I—I mean
we—
left,” said Monk. “But the longer we stay away the more likely it is that something’ll go wrong and he’ll have to spill the beans. If we’re not careful, Gerald, we’ll walk back into a bloody firestorm. I’m telling you, we need to go and we need to go
now
.”

Gerald wiped a hand across his face. “You’re not thinking straight, Monk. We can’t leave until we’ve done something about this world’s Gerald.”

“We
will
do something,” said Monk. “As soon as we get home.”

“Like what?”

“Like—like—oh, I don’t know,” said Monk, reckless. “I’ll invent something, won’t I?” And then he straightened. “In fact—in
fact—
” He snapped his fingers. “
Ha!
I’ve
got
it! I’ve already invented the solution, haven’t I?”

“I don’t know,” he said, rubbing his temples. “Have you?”

“Yes! My multi-dimensional etheretic wavelength expander,” said Monk, fired up. “The work’s practically done for us, mate. All we have to do is iron
out the kinks, soup it up a bit, reverse its etheretic polarities to switch its modality from expand to inhibit, add a few extra layers of security and booby-traps and what have you—and hey presto. Instant impenetrable interdimensional barrier. Guaranteed to stop your evil twin from opening a portal to our world ever again.”

Letting his head tip back against the wall, he considered his friend with weary affection. “Hey presto, eh? Just like that?”

“Bloody oath just like that!”

He managed a tired smile. “Yeah. It sounds great, Monk. Only you’re forgetting one small detail. Evil twin Gerald didn’t open a portal to bring me here. He yanked me out of an existing regular domestic transport portal. While I was on my way to Grande Splotze. Can you guarantee your invention can prevent a repeat of that nifty trick?”

Monk opened his mouth, then closed it again. Shook his head. “No.”

“Fine. So unless you want to explain why we have to close down our world’s entire portal network overnight we can’t go home until we’ve taken care of him.”

“Bugger,” said Monk, scowling. “I hate it when you’re right.”

He sighed. “Trust me. So do I.”

“Well, then,” said Reg, rattling her tail. “So now we’ve decided the manky git’s got to die, if one of you can rustle up a nail file I’ll sharpen my beak and stick it right through his maggoty black heart.”

“Oh, Reg.” He stroked her wing again. “Get a grip. Nobody’s stabbing anyone. We’ll have to
smuggle him out of here, back to our Ottosland. Hand him over to Sir Alec. He’ll know what to do.”

“Yes,” said Reg. “He’ll put him down like a dog. But I don’t see why our resident government stooge should have all the fun.”

Monk pulled a face. “Y’know, she’s got a point. Give me a nail file and I’ll perforate the bastard myself.”

“No!” he said sharply. “Just—shut up, Monk. You don’t know what you’re saying. You’ve never killed anyone and believe me—you don’t want to.”

Instead of answering, Monk slid off his stool and checked on the other Reg. She’d fallen properly asleep, head tucked under one wing, a forlorn drabble of feathers piled on the pillow. Sitting down again, he sucked in air and winced.

Gerald bit his lip.
Lord, he looks bloody terrible. He’s had it ten times worse than me.
“I wish I could get that bloody shadbolt off you.”

“Not as much as I do, mate.”

“I will. The second we get home, the filthy thing’s history.” He heard his breathing hitch. “I can’t believe you let Sir Alec put it on you. I can’t believe—”

“What, you thought I’d leave you stranded here?” said Monk, eyebrows lifting. “Thanks. Nice to know you’ve got such a high opinion of me, Dunnywood.”

He sat up, indignant. “What? No—I just—Monk—”

But Monk was grinning, sardonic. “Gotcha.”

“Pillock,” he said, slumping again.

“Tosser,” Monk retorted. “Huh. Y’know what
I
can’t believe? I can’t believe
that
was
Bibbie
.”

“It wasn’t,” he said quietly. “Monk, forget what you saw. What you heard. You’ll go demented if you don’t. They might be wearing our faces but they aren’t us. All right?”

“Yeah,” Monk muttered. “I suppose.” He punched his knee. “Except—look—what Bibbie—
she
—said about Mel. Rotten eggs? What did she mean?”

Oh,
hell
. “What did I just say, Monk? They’re not us. Forget it.”

But Monk never was one to take wise advice. “Have you seen her? This world’s Mel? Is she all right? Is she safe? Gerald—”

“She’s fine,” he said, making himself meet Monk’s distressed gaze without flinching.
I have to lie. I have to. It’s the kind thing to do.
“She’s living in the same house. Our—your—house. She’s fine.”