Lost in a Good Book

‘I know what you said, but… but—how do you know Miles?’

Joffy laughed, saw I was serious, frowned at me and then remarked:

‘He said you didn’t recognise him that night at Vole Towers. Is everything okay?’

I shrugged.

‘Not really, Joff—but tell me: how do you know him?’

‘We’re going out, Thurs—surely you can’t have forgotten?’

‘You and Miles?’

‘Sure! Why not?’

This was very good news indeed.

‘Then his clothes are in my apartment because—’

‘We borrow it every now and then.’

I tried to grasp the facts.

‘You borrow my apartment because it’s… secret?’

‘Right. You know how old fashioned SpecOps are when it comes to their staff fraternising with clerics.’

I laughed out loud and wiped away the tears that had sprung to my eyes.

‘Sis?’ said Joffy, getting up. ‘What’s the matter?’

I hugged him tightly.

‘Nothing’s the matter, Joff. Everything’s wonderful. I’m not carrying his baby!’

‘Miles?’ said Joff. ‘Wouldn’t know how. Wait a minute, sis—you’ve got a bun in the oven? Who’s the father?’

I smiled through my tears.

‘It’s Landen’s,’ I said with renewed confidence. ‘By God it’s Landen’s!’

And I jumped up and down with the sheer joy of the fact, and Joffy, who had nothing better to do, joined me in jumping up and down until Mrs Scroggins in the apartment below banged on the ceiling with a broom handle.

‘Sister dearest,’ said Joffy as soon as we had stopped, ‘who in St Zvlkx’s name is Landen?’

‘Landen Parke-Laine,’ I gabbled happily. ‘The ChronoGuard eradicated him but something other happened and I still have his child, so it’s all meant to come out right, don’t you see? And I have to get him back because if Aornis does get to me then he’ll never exist, ever, ever, ever—and neither will the baby and I can’t stand that idea and I’ve been farting around for too long so I’m going to go into The Raven no matter what—because if I don’t I’m going to go nuts!’

‘I’m very happy for you,’ said Joffy. ‘You’ve completely lost your mind, but I’m very happy for you.’

I ran into the living room, rummaged on my desk until I found Schitt-Hawse’s calling card and rang the number. He answered in less than two rings.

‘Ah, Next,’ he said with a triumphant air. ‘Changed your mind?’

‘I’ll go into The Raven for you, Schitt-Hawse. Double-cross me and I’ll maroon both you and your half-brother in the worst Daphne Farquitt novel I can find. Believe me, I can do it—and will do it, if necessary.’

There was a pause.

‘I’ll send a car to pick you up.’

The phone went dead and I placed the receiver back on the cradle. I took a deep breath, shooed Joffy out of the door once he had collected Miles’s stuff, then had a shower and got dressed. My mind was set. I would get Landen back, no matter what the risks. I still didn’t have a coherent plan, but this didn’t bother me that much—I seldom did.

28. The Raven

‘The Raven was undoubtedly Edgar Allan Foe’s finest and most famous poem, and was his own personal favourite, being the one he most liked to recite at poetry readings. Published in 1845, the poem drew heavily on Elizabeth Barrett’s Lady Geraldine’s Courtship, something he acknowledged in the original dedication but had conveniently forgotten when explaining how he wrote The Raven in his essay “The Philosophy of Composition”—the whole affair tending to make a nonsense of Poe’s attacks on Longfellow for being a plagiarist. A troubled genius, Poe also suffered the inverse cash/fame law—the more famous he became, the less money he had. “The Gold Bug”, one of his most popular short stories, sold over 300,000 copies but netted him only $100. With The Raven he fared even worse. The total earnings for one of the greatest poems in the English language were only $9.’

MILLON DE FLOSS. Who Put the Poe in Poem?

The doorbell rang as I was putting my shoes on. But it wasn’t Goliath. It was Agents Lamb and Slaughter. I was really quite glad to see that they were still alive; perhaps Aornis didn’t regard them as a threat. I wouldn’t.

‘Her name’s Aornis Hades,’ I told them as I hopped up and down, trying to pull the other shoe on, ‘sister of Acheron. Don’t even think of tackling her. You know you’re close when you stop breathing.’

‘Wow!’ exclaimed Lamb, patting his pockets for a pen. ‘Aornis Hades! How did you figure that out?’

‘I’ve glimpsed her several times over the past few weeks.’

‘You must have a good memory,’ observed Slaughter.

‘I have help.’

Lamb found a pen, discovered it didn’t work and borrowed a pencil from his partner. The point broke. I lent him mine.

‘What was her name again?’

I spelt it out for him and he wrote it down painfully slowly.

‘Good!’ I said once they had finished. ‘What are you guys doing here anyway?’

‘Flanker wants a word.’

This was interesting. He’d obviously not found the cause of tomorrow’s armageddon.

‘I’m busy.’

‘You’re not busy any more,’ replied Slaughter, looking very awkward and wringing her hands. ‘I’m sorry about this—but you’re under arrest.’

‘What for now?’

‘Possession of an illegal substance.’

I didn’t have time for this.

‘Listen, guys, I’m not just busy, I’m really busy, and Flanker sending you along with some bullshit trumped-up charge is just wasting your time and mine.’

‘Cheese,’ said Slaughter, holding out an arrest warrant. ‘Illegal cheese. SO-1 found a block of flattened cheese under a Hispano-Suiza with your prints all over it. It was part of a cheese seizure, Thursday. It should have been consigned to the furnaces.’

I groaned. It was just what Flanker wanted. A simple internal charge which usually meant a reprimand— but could, if needed, result in a custodial sentence. A solid gold arm-twister, in other words. Before the two agents could even draw breath I had slammed the door in their faces and was heading out on to the fire escape. I heard them yell at me as I ran on to the road, just in time to be picked up by Schitt-Hawse. It was the first and last time I would ever be pleased to see him.