Comeback Tour

'Talent?'

'Eet ees witch stoff. She says yiu a powerful sorciere, only' yiu do not know eet. Yiu put aside your magic, turn your back on eet, but ze magic, eet weel not be put aside. Eet come back soon.'

Elvis felt the music creep into his spine. 'Ti-Mouche seemed to be playing incredibly complex variations on 'Heartbreak Hotel.' She couldn't know…

The music got darker, wilder, and 'Ti-Mouche's recital became a rant. Zhille stopped trying to explain, but Elvis could tell he was unnerved. The climate of the gathering chilled, and a few of the children crossed themselves. DuFrezne looked serious, and nodded.

'She's talking about me,' Krokodil said.

The bow scraped higher, and 'Ti-Mouche's eyes glowed in the dark. Her skirts whipped around her thin legs, and her caterwauling was answered by cries from creatures out in the swamp.

Elvis nudged Zhille. 'What is she saying now?'

Zhille was reluctant. 'She talk about your woman. She say your woman 'ave ze diable a sa coeur. Yiu understand.' 'Ti-Mouche was saying that Krokodil was the Devil in disguise. Krokodil did not seem unsettled by the accusation.

'Bot, eet alright to make spaice for yiu at ze fire…'

DuFrezne looked happier, his decision vindicated.

'…because yiu such a pow'ful sorciere.'

The fires flared up again as Ti-Mouche finished her recital. She flopped down, exhausted, and was handed a jug of white lightning.

After a while, Elvis asked. 'Say, how much do we owe you for the food and gas?'

He had his moneyclip out.

Zhille looked offended. 'No monai, m'sieu. Yiu pay os een kaind. We feed yiu, warm yiu at our fire, play yiu our museec. Yiu most pay os back weeth a story, a song, a dance. Sometheeng to pass ze naight-taime.'

Krokodil was smirking, stretched out like a cat.

'Ti-Mouche knew what to do. She took a battered guitar from one of the band, and laid it in front of him.

'Yiu most play,' Zhille said. ''Ti-Mouche wishes eet.'

Krokodil sat up, interested.

Elvis ran some chords. It was an old instrument, but a good one.

It was as if the music had never gone away.

'Welllll,' he began, 'since my baby left me….'

XI

Raimundo Rex brought Spermwhale Visser into Shiba's office, and towered over the Good Ole Boy, dripping saliva. Everywhere inside, Raimundo had to hunch over, and still his huge, rough-skinned head scraped paint off ceilings.

'Good morning,' Shiba said to the trembling security man.

He had had to wrench the back off his chair to accomodate his tail, and rip out the seats of all his pants. He would be making little adjustments like that for a long time. But he was already used to his new self. The tail apart, his suits still fit him, and he didn't have to worry about the heat or the insects any more.

'An interesting thing about alligators, Mr Visser, did you know that…'

Visser spat blood and teeth. 'Can it, Nip!'

The Good Ole Boy was pushed down into a chair by Raimundo's feeble hands. Visser glowered at Shiba, and wiped his bruised face. Raimundo was clumsy by nature, and prone to over-using his teeth and talons.

'Eh, Fatty,' Raimundo said, 'doncha show no disrespeck for the maaan, else maybe yo' cabeza an' my stomach get together for a leetle cha-cha.'

The saurian laughed, and flapped an arm.

'Mr Visser, there is no reason why this interview should be unpleasant.'

The Good Ole Boy grunted.

'I am no more responsible for my condition than you are for yours. Indeed, if responsibility is to be handed out, you should perhaps step forward to accept it.'

Visser fidgeted. He took out a packet of Hi-Tars.

'Kindly refrain from smoking.'

Raimundo reached down and lashed the cigarettes out of Visser's hand.

'Don' damage yo' health, Fatty…'

Shiba straightened the files laid out on his desk. He had been making full use of Dr Blaikley's cardkeys. One of the Suitcase People had been a hacker, and he had got them into the compound's datalink records. Shiba was appalled at how much had been kept from him these past few months. If he had been apprised of the nature and history of Dr Blaikley's project, he might well have done the unthinkable and questioned an order from GenTech central. He certainly wouldn't have come to Florida if he had known what the effects were likely to be. Of course, he was not yet sure how much of the story Dr Blaikley had chosen to share with the corp.

'Your predecessor. Captain Marcus, has been most informative…'

'Freakin' reptile!'

Raimundo growled, and Visser slumped again.

'It seems that you were brought in after Dr Blaikley's first little disaster. A shame. You have done little to prevent the second unfortunate incident…'

'Freakin' mad scientist bitch!'

Shiba was offended by the disloyalty.

'But no. Only now do I fully understand the late doctor's genius. Am I not…improved?'

'You're a freakin' monster, Shiba.'

Shiba laughed. 'How little you understand. It is a pity that you cannot share my condition…'

Visser blanched.

'I know all about the drugs Dr Blaikley has been giving to you, to make you immune.'

Visser looked mutely hostile.

'You should, of course, have shared your supply, shouldn't you?'

Raimundo scratched the wall with his hindleg, leaving five deep clawmarks.

'You should have made sure that I was immune, and the indentees…'

Visser's piggy eyes were open, defiant.

'But you have been profiting from your supplies, haven't you? How many of us are as we are not through Dr Blaikley's designs, but through your greed and carelessness? Oh, I admit that when the changes began, the doctor invariably took advantage of the situation. She never investigated your affairs too closely…'

'She was a cuckoo, Shiba…'

'She was under pressure. After the first outbreak of spontaneous mutation, and the mass escape she must have realized the project was under threat. She stepped up the work. A shame that she died before she realized how well she succeeded.'

Shiba stood up, his tail dragging as he walked, and paced the office. Beyond the windows, he could see the Suitcase People basking in the morning sun. How many were there? It was hard to tell. Marcus's group had split up in the swamps. Some had swum towards the coast, others struck south for the Everglades. The rate of change differed from subject to subject. Some evolved naturally, without the need for surgery, but some had been jumped through several stages by Dr Blaikley. It wasn't quite a disease, but it spread from long-term contact among other factors. You had to live in the swamp with the infection in you for at least six months, but when it came upon you the change was quite rapid. Startlingly so, in fact.

'The indentees took a vote, Visser,' Shiba said. 'They want you and your crew to be weighted down and thrown into the swamp. Some of our reptile brethren think that would be wasteful. They want to…it pains me to say