friends. I thought I could reach him. I never dreamed he’d-and once the shadbolt was on I couldn’t get it off and every time I tried to argue with him-reason with him-” A terrible, ghastly travesty of a smile. “He really doesn’t like it when people say no. This ultimatum, Monk-he’ll never surrender. He really will plunge my whole world into war first.”
Melissande felt herself go cold. I don’t believe it. He can’t be talking about Gerald. Gerald Dunwoody’s the most moral man I know. Glancing at Reg, she saw that the bird was-amazingly-lost for words. Bibbie was trying hard to blink back tears. And Monk- her Monk- Oh, Saint Snodgrass. I never imagined I’d ever see him terrified.
“How long?” he said, staring intently at the other Monk crumpled on the sofa. “Before the UM nations who haven’t gone rogue attack Ottosland?”
“They gave us a week,” said the other Monk. “That was four days ago.”
“ Four days? ” said Reg, feathers bristling. “And what have you been doing since then, sunshine? Lolling about getting manicures?”
“Reg!” Bibbie looked close to violence. “Shut your beak, you horrible bloody bird! You’ve got no right to-”
“I’m sorry,” said the other Monk. “I worked as-” Abruptly his breathing turned to more coughing, and fresh blood-pink froth bubbled on his lips. “I worked as fast as I could,” he said, once he’d caught his breath. “But I had to get my hands on the portable portal and figure out how to tweak it without him noticing and then I had to come up with a plausible reason why I needed to be left strictly undisturbed in the lab and-”
Monk dropped to a crouch beside the other Monk. Took hold of his shoulder and held on tight. “Don’t. It’s all right. Which nations are on your Gerald’s side, d’you remember?”
The other Monk pressed his knuckles to his forehead, grimacing. Another cough. More blood on his lips. “Sorry-it hurts-”
Melissande leaned close. “Try, Monk. Please. I know it’s hard, I know you’re in pain, but if you want us to help you then you have to help us.”
“I know,” he grunted, nodding. “Believe me, Mel, I know. Jandria. They were first to join him.”
She exchanged a jaundiced look with her Monk. Well, yes, of course bloody Jandria. Never a crisis brewing that they’re not interested in heating up.
“Fine,” she said, trying to sound encouraging despite the churning nausea. “Who else?”
“Oh ducky, forget the laundry list,” said Reg. With another flapping of wings she launched herself off the arm of the sofa, landed on the other Monk’s knees and stabbed him with her steeliest glare. “Let’s just leap ahead to the punch line, shall we? To cut a depressing and abbreviated story even shorter-you came here to fetch our- my — Gerald to your world so he can snap his fingers and janitor away your troubles, didn’t you?”
The other Monk frowned, muzzily. “Janitor? What? I don’t-”
“Never you mind playing the dimwit!” Reg snapped. “Do you expect my Gerald to clean up your mess or don’t you?”
Face screwed up with pain, the other Monk nodded. “I had to come. He’s our only hope. Gerald’s the only wizard I know who can stop Gerald. The only rogue thaumaturgist in either of our worlds.”
“And that’s another thing,” said Reg, unyielding. “Why pick this world? Why pick my Gerald?”
“Sorry,” said the other Monk, close to wheezing. “This world was the only one I could find.”
“Then all I can say is you didn’t look hard enough!” Reg retorted. “Perhaps if you had then-”
“Reg,” Melissande said softly. “Please. Can’t you see he’s-”
“Of course I can bloody see!” said Reg, eyes blazing. “I can see he’s got no more common sense than your Monk, madam! Because how, exactly, does he think my Gerald’s going to help him? My Gerald’s not corrupted himself with any of that manky grimoire magic and I’ll tell you right now, ducky, he’s not going to either.” She glared down at the other Monk. “So your world’s going to have to sort itself out, Mr. Markham from Next Door. Everybody knows charity begins at home. So you can just pop yourself back there and clean up your own mess.”
Shocked, Melissande stared at her. “Reg-how can you say that? Gerald’s in trouble, he-”
“ His Gerald. Not mine,” Reg snapped. “ My Gerald would never soil himself with that muck. My Gerald didn’t. And believe me, madam, whoever that is in his world wearing my Gerald’s face? He stopped being Gerald months ago.”
Monk cleared his throat. “She’s right about that much. The Gerald who made that shadbolt-I don’t know him. That Gerald Dunwoody’s not my friend.”
“Maybe he is and maybe he isn’t,” said Melissande. “But for all we know that Gerald is-is trapped inside those awful magics, just like this other Monk was trapped inside that shadbolt. And if that’s true we have to help him!”
“Mel’s right,” said Bibbie. “He’s still Gerald, just like this is still Monk.”
“I know,” Monk said reluctantly. “And as much as I hate to agree with myself, knowing what I know of our Gerald’s abilities? If he really did decide to get creative the only wizard I know who could stop him is him. And that means-”
“Aren’t you noddyheads listening?” Reg screeched. “I said no and I meant no! You are not getting my Gerald mixed up in this!”
Monk dragged his fingers through his hair. “Look, Reg, when you think about it he’s already mixed up-”
“One more word out of you, Mr. Clever Clogs, and I’ll do more than bloody poke you in your insignificant unmentionables!” said Reg. Her dark eyes were alight with a fury none of them had ever seen before. “I’ll fly to your Uncle Ralph’s poncy establishment and tell him what you’ve been up to lately. All of it, sunshine. Chapter and verse. By the time this little canary’s finished singing you won’t be able to show your face past your front door for ten years! That’s if Uncle Ralph doesn’t throw you in a dark cell-and trust me when I say I’d bloody cheer if he did!”
Bibbie leaped to her feet. “Oh, really? Is that so? Just who d’you think you’re messing with, you washed-up old has-been? We’re the Markhams, we are, ducky, and you don’t want to mess with us! I’m warning you, Reg-you try hurting my brother and I’ll have a go at lifting your hex and then I’ll be the one cheering while you — ”
“ Bibbie,” said Melissande, reaching out a hand. “Don’t. Can’t you see she’s terrified?”
“Good!” Bibbie retorted. “And so she should be. I’m not a witch to be trifled with and-”
“Bibbie, shut up! ” she said. “She’s not scared of you. She’s scared that if his Gerald could risk using those grimoires then so could our Gerald, which means-”
“He would not!” Bibbie said hotly. “How can you even suggest it? Our Gerald’s too smart for that. He proved he’s too smart for that by not using them the first time. His Gerald must’ve had a screw loose or something. Or maybe the other Reg drove him bonkers with all her nagging. But whatever the reason, I won’t-”
“Bibbie,” said Monk, quietly. “Melissande’s right. Now do us all a favor and hush up. Reg-”
“Monk Markham, you’re Gerald’s best friend,” said Reg, hopping from the other Monk’s knees to the sofa- back as Bibbie turned away, flushed pink with affronted misery. “You know what he’s like. Show him a lame dog and he won’t care what it costs him to save it. Look how he was with that pillock Errol Haythwaite. Bent over backwards to see him proved innocent after every mean and nasty thing the plonker said and did to him. And now you want to-”
“No, Reg, I don’t want to,” said Monk. “Believe me, I don’t. But it’s not up to me. And it’s not up to you, either. This is Gerald’s decision. We don’t have the right to make it for him.”
Melissande looked at her. “We don’t, Reg. You know we don’t.”
“Where is he?” said the other Monk, stirring. “Your Gerald? I need to see him. I need to-”
“He’s not here,” she said. “Sir Alec sent him on assignment. Do you know your world’s Sir Alec?”
The other Monk shuddered. “Not well. And not for long. Melissande-” His beseeching eyes, cloudier now, fixed their gaze on her face. “Please. Get Gerald. Quickly. Time’s running out. If we don’t stop him-” He sat bolt upright, shuddering harder than ever. “Monk-”
“I’m here,” Monk said, his voice rough. “It’s all right, mate. I’m here.”
Leaning forward, the other Monk grabbed his arm pulled him close, eyes alight with an almost fanatical glitter. “You felt him. In the shadbolt. You felt what he is now. He’s not your friend. He’ll kill everyone. He won’t stop until the world’s drowning in blood. Stop him. You and your Gerald, Monk. Promise me that. Promise.”
“I don’t know if I can,” said Monk, sounding helpless. “I mean-you’re me and you couldn’t stop him. How am
