when RMs – OK, only one RM, but we're all a team, aren't we? – are being attacked, it could induce a panic.
I'm not sure what a panicked Neill would do, but I don't really want to find out. I'm only beginning to understand my own abilities and RMs are notoriously closed mouthed. There are more secrets within our organisation than I would have believed just a few months ago – secrets, like landmines waiting for me to inadvertently stomp on them. But then again, what's a landmine anyway, but a really, really nasty secret?
The shift is relatively painless this time. 'Yeah!' I punch the air a little.
Neill's Ankou, David, types away for a moment or two, pointedly ignoring me.
I cough.
He looks up, feigns surprise. 'You're early,' he says.
Why does everyone seem to know what I'm doing better than me? 'When were you expecting me?'
'Based on your movements, around your lunchtime, so very early morning here.'
Based on my movements? I wonder just who it is who is watching me. I don't have anyone spying on the other RMs, maybe I should. Yeah, as if I could afford to lose more staff.
'Are you ready to talk to the boss?'
'Of course I am.'
I get what looks to me like a smile of pity. David presses down on a somewhat prehistoric intercom, a big brown box as clunky as all hell. I get the feeling they don't bother with Bluetooth here, but then again, Mr D used to use sparrows as his main form of communication, and his 'data-storage' consisted of scrunched-up balls of paper and Post-it notes.
The intercom buzzes a moment before Neill picks up.
'Yes?' The voice is warm.
'Mr de Selby's here.'
'He's early. Excellent.'
Neill's through the door almost at once, his hand out, giving me a professionally firm handshake that lasts one or two seconds too long.
'Come in,' he says gesturing at his open door. 'We have a lot to talk about, you and I.'
The door is heavy, the windows barred. Like my office, he has views of both the living and the Underworld. But the bars obscure it somewhat. All I can see are street lights. It's late here, does Neill ever go home?
'As you can see, we are quite secure here.'
I want to say something about how needing such security doesn't suggest security at all. But I bite my tongue.
Neill's throne is almost identical to mine. The wood is a little paler, the carvings a little different, perhaps telling a story of an older continent. After all, the Orcus had its origins, like all human life, in Africa. Although some of the carvings definitely aren't of humans.
Neill sits down and sighs. His skin brightens, flushes a little as he leans back in his chair. I wonder if that's how I look. I know I've grown somewhat dependent on my throne.
Neill pours, then passes me a glass of twenty-year-old scotch. Without even bothering to ask if I want one. The bottle of scotch is the only thing sitting on his desk, other than a couple of sheets of paper, over which he has made notes in an extremely neat hand. I try not to look but I think I can see my name. Neill slides the papers away and into a drawer under his desk. I almost expect him to pull out a gun. See what a paranoid state I'm in?
'There are some things you're better off not reading,' Neill says. 'Besides, my spelling is atrocious.'
I sip my scotch. It's good stuff. I compare this with the beer Mr D has been foisting on me. My old RM has sunk a long way. 'I think you need a mentor, Steven. Hope that doesn't make me sound too much like a wanker. But Mr D, he was never the best of us, had a habit of making enemies.'
'I've already made a deal with Suzanne Whitman.' Not that I trust her in the least.
Neill's expression hardly changes. 'I wouldn't trust her. Suzanne is many things, but trustworthy is not one of them.'
Is this bugger reading my mind? 'And why should I trust you?'
Neill smiles. 'Mr de Selby, there really isn't anyone you should trust. Not friends, nor family. Everyone can betray you. Why, you can betray yourself – and that's the worst sort of betrayal, isn't it?'
'You're telling me that trust is pointless. Then why bother making any deals at all?'
'They're no guarantee against betrayal, but they do, with the right amount of paranoia, make it harder. It's as much about information. Sharing.'
'What do you want from me? You seem to know everything anyway.'
'Not at all. I know less than you think. But I do have something for you. Rillman – I have heard that he's causing you trouble.' Neill sighs. 'You're not the first. Rillman is a pain, and your Mr D should have stopped him years ago. Do you know that he regularly crosses the boundary between the land of the living and the Underworld?'
'What?' Well, that explains a lot. The bastard's got a passcard to Hell. I'm not sure whether I feel relieved he's back on the table as a suspect or horrified by the implications of what he can do.
Neill's eyes crinkle with the slightest of smiles. 'Death holds no dominion over him. You might want to ask just who is letting it happen.'
'Do you have any idea?' He can't give me this and not have an idea!
Neill shrugs. 'Perhaps your new mentor knows. She has promised you much. The Orcus has plans for you. You would do well to ask just what they are.'
'Why don't you tell me now?' I want to bang my fist on the table.
Neill grins. 'If I could. Yes, but then she would know. This, I can get away with. This, you should have been able to guess yourself. You're new, of course the Orcus would fit you into their strategies. But if I tell you any more I risk… Well, it would not be good.'
'I'll think about your offer.' I finish my scotch and force a smile, wondering if he's being genuine, if I can even trust the information about Rillman that he's given me. I've seen Neill's Negotiation, just as I've seen all the others: one nasty gift I wish I'd never received.
You see someone decapitate their foe, you think differently of them.
'Yes, please consider it carefully.'
The phone rings. He glances over to it. 'I need to take this call.'
He stands up, shakes my hand. 'Be very careful, my friend.'
I nod and shift out of there.
There is a knock at my office door, almost at the same second I arrive back. I'm a little woozy, but otherwise OK.
'Come in,' I say, trying to hide the irritation from my voice.
A giant of a man walks into the room. At first I think it's the New Zealand-South Pacific RM. He's at least this big, but it's not Kiri Baker. I feel guilty – another couple of movements I haven't let the security crew know about.
The big guy blinks. 'Just thought I'd let you know there's been a shift change.' His lips move a little oddly, as though they're scarred. I know I shouldn't but I stare at them, trying to work out just what is wrong.
He comes towards me, his hand out. 'Jacob. I'm Oscar's replacement.'
'Thanks,' I say, standing up to shake his hand. 'I really appreciate what you're doing. And I've promised Oscar that I'll be good.'
His hand encloses mine. And I catch the movement of his other hand far too late: it's not open.
Jacob's fist slams into my head. I see stars, literally all sorts of unnerving constellations. Aquarius – today you will have the shit beaten out of you, dope. Dress for wet weather, and probable death.
'You're welcome,' he says, swinging another fist at my head. I sense him changing. Shrinking somehow, or maybe it's just that the room is spinning. 'You're so welcome.'
Shift. Got to shift. Close my eyes. Focus on anywhere but here!
But that's the end of me. Five shifts in such close proximity was never going to happen. I'm on the floor, stunned, one nostril sheathed in a bubble of blood that's expanding and contracting with my breath. He lifts me up easily, and the bloody bubble bursts. I'm shaking my head, trying to stop the ringing in my ears. All I can see between long blinks is the carpet, and my blood splattering in Rorschach patterns.
I try to speak, just manage a couple of grunts. And then we shift. It doesn't feel like far, but I've no way of
