Dropping her own glass she grabbed Gertz by the arm. “Leopold! What have you done?”
Gertz pulled free and backed away. “What I had to do. For Splotze. You wouldn’t understand.”
With a grunt, Gerald pressed a fist to his belly. Then he looked at her, astonished pain dawning.
“Melissande?”
Catching hold of him as he folded, she turned on Leopold Gertz. “You’ve poisoned him?”
Not waiting for Gertz to answer, because she already knew, she started dragging Gerald towards the reception chamber’s door… and saw Dermit and Volker, those two Steinish bastards, bullying their way through Hartwig’s heedless guests with murder in their eyes.
“Bibbie!”
And Bibbie was beside her, taking Gerald’s other arm, helping to drag him towards the chamber doors. Now people were turning, curious, too bloody stupid to get out of the way. Dermit’s hand was in his pocket. Everything about him screamed: You’re dead.
“Bibbie, he’s got hexes,” she said, nearly sobbing. “We need a diversion!”
Bibbie clenched a fist and whispered. All around the chamber, curtains burst into flame.
“Done,” she said, vicious. “Now let’s get out of here.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Oy, you pair of hoydens! Put a sock in it, right now! And then tell me what you’ve gone and done to my Gerald!”
An ambush of tears, hot and smarting. Melissande blinked them away. Help had come at last.
“Reg? How did you-”
Flapped onto the Canal wall, Reg was staring at Gerald. “That Markham boy made himself useful for once.” She jerked her beak. “Is it poison?”
“Yes,” said Bibbie. “Where’s Monk? For pity’s sake don’t tell me you came alone!”
“I’ll remember that, madam,” the bird said with a pointed sniff. “What kind of poison, d’you know?”
“No,” said Melissande. “But he drank it, if that helps.” Her voice was wobbling. Very unroyal. “Oh, Reg, it started working so fast and we-”
“And you thought the best way to help my Gerald was take him on a midnight tour of Grande Splotze?”
Bibbie turned on her. “If you’ve portable portalled all the way from Chatterly Crescent to do nothing but carp, then I suggest you portal yourself back again right now, you-you- bloody imposter!”
On the cobbles at their feet, Gerald rolled his head and moaned. The small sound was shockingly loud in the silence.
A sniff. A soft rattling of long tail feathers. “So,” said Reg. “Are you two running to somewhere in particular, or-”
“Abel Bestwick’s lodging,” said Melissande, subdued. “It’s at-”
“45b Voblinz Lane. I know.” Reg gave her tail another good shake. “But why take him there? Why not send for a doctor? You were in the palace weren’t you? Don’t tell me Hartwig doesn’t keep a doctor in his pocket, just in case he collapses with an attack of ingrown toenail.”
She glanced at Bibbie, but Monk’s sister had dropped to one knee beside stuporous Gerald and was chafing his wrist between her hands.
“There wasn’t time, Reg. The bastards who did this were about to finish the job. We had to run. And we thought Abel might keep some kind of all-round poison remedy. You know, since he’s a janitor.” A bubble of despair rose in her throat. “Only those poisoning pillocks must be following us and I think we’re lost and-”
Reassuringly brisk, Reg rattled her tail again. “Not to worry. Along with a locator hex for finding Gerald, that Markham boy gave me excellent directions to Mister Bestwick’s humble abode, just in case. So let’s get cracking, shall we? Miss Markham-it’d be a good idea if you tarted up your obfuscation hex before we go.”
Another appalled silence. Melissande stared at Bibbie, and Bibbie stared back.
“Oh, my giddy aunt,” Reg said, disgusted. “Call yourself a witch, madam? Call yourself a Markham? I know what I’d call you, I’d call you-”
“The woman Gerald loves, actually,” Melissande snapped. “So leave her be, Reg, and lead the way to Voblinz Lane. Now.”
“No, wait,” said Bibbie. “She’s right. Let me just-”
Oh, lord. At this rate they were going to argue themselves right into Dermit and Volker’s murderous clutches. “There’s no time, Bibbie! Those bastards could stumble over us at any moment! Now come on. I’ll take his top half and you take his legs, just like before. Don’t worry. We’ve made it this far. We’ll make it the rest of the way.”
“Blimey,” said Reg, when they had Gerald once more slung between them. “There’s a circus act in there somewhere.” With a flapping of wings, she was airborne. “Well, ladies, what are you waiting for? Follow me!”
She led them through the hushed, shadowed streets to Voblinz Lane without making a single wrong turn. Thank you, Monk. The narrow street was darkly narrow and noisome, scattered with rain-sodden refuse. Only one of its gaslights was working. And that was the first and last bit of good news to be found.
“I don’t believe it,” Bibbie said, both hands pressed to the warped and paint-peeling front door of 45b. “Gerald’s warded the wretched hovel. Running after blood magic and he still remembers to lock the door!”
Melissande swallowed another bubble of despair. Oh, lord. I can’t take much more of this. “You’re sure it’s Gerald’s hexwork?”
“Yes,” Bibbie said, with an impatient glance. “I can feel some older hexes too, probably Bestwick’s, but they’re all kaput. Trust me, this is Gerald’s doing. I’d know one of his hexes anywhere.”
Wonderful. As if they didn’t have enough headaches to be going on with. “Well… can you break it?”
“She has to,” said Reg, sitting on the cracked pavement beside Gerald. Her beak caressed his cheek, once. “Because our boy is fighting the fight of his life and we’re not going to be any help to him out here.”
“Bibs…” Afraid, uncertain, Melissande rested a hand on Bibbie’s shoulder, feeling her tense and trembling. “You and Monk and Gerald, you’ve spent months and months mucking about with thaumaturgics in the attic. Monk says you’re easily as good as him these days. I know there’s a difference between witch and wizard potentias, but-”
“No, there’s not,” Bibbie said tightly. “That’s nonsense put out by manky old men like Great-uncle Throgmorton, who want to keep gels in their place.”
“So your potentia and Gerald’s, they’re compatible? I mean, you worked together at the Hanging Bridge, didn’t you? The way Monk and Gerald work together at home? And-you know, when they were stuck in the other Ottosland.”
“Sort of,” Bibbie said, after a moment. “But teaming up potentias isn’t the same as breaking each other’s thaumaturgics. It’s true, I’ve managed to crack a few of Gerald’s hexes.” Her flattened palms became fists, and banged her frustration on the door. “But that was before he-”
Suddenly, it seemed Bibbie had to stare at the peeling paint.
“Before the grimoire magic?” Crossing her arms, Melissande rubbed her hands up and down to chase away the chill. “I know you said he’s changed, but even so… he got rid of it, didn’t he? He’s not-not permanently tainted, or anything? Is he?”
Bibbie uncurled her fisted fingers one by one. “No. Of course he isn’t.”
And that was a lie. Goaded beyond self-control, Melissande gave temper free rein. “Stop it, Emmerabiblia! I’m sick and bloody tired of you treating me like a gel! You of all people! I don’t know how you can!”
“What’s this?” Reg demanded, abandoning her vigil on the pavement to hop onto a nearby step. “Has something else happened to Gerald?”
“It’s not for me to say,” Bibbie answered, mulishly stubborn. “You’ll have to ask him.”
“Well, ducky, I would, only he’s a bit poisoned just now!”
“I’m sorry. I can’t-I won’t — tell you,” Bibbie said, dogged to the end. “So you might as well stop asking.”
“All right, Emmerabiblia,” Melissande said wearily. “Keep your secrets, I don’t care. Just get us inside, will you, before we’re discovered?”
