even bother trying. A bunch of shadbolt matrixes, always useful. A handful of compulsion hexes-and they won’t work on me either, so, y’know, don’t waste my time. Oh yes, and a couple of nifty punishment hexes. For when your underlings get uppity.”
“I see,” he said, feeling sick again. “And that’s it?”
“For starters,” said his counterpart. “But if you’re very good, Professor, who knows? There could be more.”
He shook his head. “Trust me, Gerald. I won’t be wanting more.”
The other Gerald laughed. “Yes, well, you say that now. But I think you’ll find that once you get a taste of what’s possible you won’t be quite so eager to sermonize. Or turn me down.”
The casually mocking comment chilled him.
What if he’s right? What if I like what’s in this crystal? It might not be the worst dark magic in the world, but still… if I swallow it I won’t be me any more. I’ll have taken the first step towards turning into him.
He could feel Monk, staring. Lifted his own gaze, just enough. His friend was hunched on his side with his back to the other Gerald. He nodded, the smallest gesture. Twitched his lips into the merest hint of a smile.
Oh, bloody hell, Monk. You’d better know how to purge me if this muck.
He closed his eyes, shuddering, and swallowed the hex crystal. Within moments his mouth filled with a raw and angry heat. Whatever he was tasting he didn’t begin to understand it. It tasted of nothing, of everything, of power and pain. He felt his potentia stir to life like a banked fire kicked over. Felt the hex crystal’s incants unfurling like a seed-pod in spring. All that dark promise uncoiling, expanding, pushing single-mindedly through his blood towards the sun.
“Steady now, Professor,” said his counterpart, and took his arm. “Don’t fight it. Let it happen. It might tickle a bit. But what’s a little pain compared with undreamt of power?”
Bloody hell. A little pain? The dark incants and hexes had sharp teeth and claws and they were tearing holes in his etheretic aura. Burrowing into his potentia. He could feel himself… changing. Could feel a shadow, encroaching.
Oh no. Oh no. What the hell have I done?
He would’ve fallen, if the other Gerald wasn’t holding him up. He felt himself clinging. Heard himself say: “Don’t let go.”
“It’s all right, Gerald,” said his other self, so kindly. “Don’t be frightened. I’ve got you. You’re safe with me. You’re safe.”
And then the dark magic inside him finished unfolding and caught fire. Seared every nerve and sinew as it flashed through him, incandescent.
“There,” said the other Gerald, pleased. “All finished.” Letting go, he stepped back. “And doesn’t that feel better?”
The pain was gone. That was better. But the shadow-the shadow “Yes,” he said, blinking. “I’m fine.”
“I knew you would be,” said his counterpart, who then turned and kicked Monk. “Get up, Markham. You’ve got work to do.”
Slowly, painfully, Monk rolled to his hands and knees. Took a deep breath and staggered to his feet. “Look. I’m going to need him for more than a couple of hours. This bloody contraption of yours-I don’t know if you understand how complicated it is, Gerald.”
“Thank you, I’m not an idiot,” the other Gerald said coldly. “How long do you need him?”
“All night would be good.”
“ All night? Markham-”
“Oh, Gerald, don’t go on,” said Bibbie. “Isn’t it better that he’ll be locked in here with Monk? At least this way you won’t have to worry about keeping an eye on him. Once the lab doors are hexed that’s it. He’s just another Reg in a tiny little cage.”
“I suppose so,” said the other Gerald, grudging. “But let’s get one thing clear, Monk-if he’s staying the night that means no more excuses. I want to find my machine finished and foolproof when I come back in the morning. Is that clear?”
“Actually,” said Gerald, not looking at Monk, “instead of making assumptions that I can help, maybe you should explain what this contraption of yours-”
“Monk’ll explain it,” snapped his counterpart. “I don’t have time. Bibbie-”
“Finally,” said Bibbie, going to him. “I was about to die of boredom. You’re taking me out to dinner, Gerald. A very expensive, very exclusive, very rarified dinner. And you’re giving me a gold-and-diamond bracelet.”
The other Gerald laughed. “Am I? All right.”
Gerald looked away as they kissed, not envious any more. Just ill and revolted. He felt Monk’s shocked horror like a blow. Poor bugger. Bet he was sorry he’d come, now.
The laboratory door banged closed behind them, and then came an obliterating surge in the ether as the multiple, unbreakable locking-hexes and incants were reengaged.
“Right,” said Monk, once the etheretic ripples had faded. “Come on, Gerald. We’re getting the hell out of here.”
“What?” he said, staring. “Um-no. No, we’re not. We can’t, Monk. Not yet.”
The Reg in the cage started bouncing up and down, banging her beak against the bars so hard she risked hurting herself. Poor thing.
“Oh, blimey,” said Monk, and crossed to the cage. “Hang on-hang on-Gerald-unhex the door, would you? I can’t. This bloody shadbolt.”
Yes. The shadbolt. How the devil had he managed that? How had he managed any of this?
“Gerald, I’ll explain later! Just open the bloody cage!”
Thanks to the dark magics the other Gerald had given him, the filthy incants binding the cage door surrendered without a fight.
“Wait-wait-” said Monk, carefully extracting agitated Reg from her prison. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Released from her prison, with the red ribbon gag discarded, Reg shot into the air, an indignant blur of feathers. “Not yet? Not yet? What d’you mean, not yet? Gerald Dunwoody, I want to go home! ”
Stunned, he watched her flap furiously around the lab. That was Reg. His Reg. But-but I was going to let Gerald kill her. I was going to let him snap her neck. Oh my God… oh my God…
Furious, he turned on Monk. “Bloody hell, Markham, what’s she doing here? What the hell were you thinking, bringing Reg into this?”
“Hey, don’t look at me!” Monk retorted. “I didn’t invite her, she invited herself!”
“Then why didn’t you un invite her? Why didn’t you send her packing as soon as you realized-”
“Shut up, the pair of you!” said Reg, landing in a flapping of wings on the top of the cage. “Do I look like a wishbone at the family picnic? Has interdimensional sightseeing scrambled your brains? Monk Markham, get us out of here!”
Abruptly exhausted, Gerald headed for the nearest bit of empty wall and slid down it. His head was pounding. “ No! I told you, nobody’s going anywhere. At least, I’m not going anywhere. I suppose you two can do what you like.”
“Bloody hell,” said Monk, and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “ Gerald — ”
“ Don’t,” he snapped. “I’ve had a very bad day.”
“It’s no use, sunshine,” Reg sighed, rattling her tail. “You know what he’s like. We’ll have to hear him out. Only first you’d better make sure my pathetic twin hasn’t carked it.”
“Bugger,” said Monk. “I forgot about her.”
Gerald watched, lost for words, as Monk ducked into the lab’s bathroom and came out again a moment later cradling a limp draggle of feathers against his chest. “She’s all right, I think,” he said. “Just weak.”
“Yes, I’m fine,” said the other Reg. Her eyes were glazed, and there was no familiar gloss on her feathers. “Just tired. And thirsty.”
“Well, don’t sit there gawking at her, Gerald,” Reg snapped, waspish. “Fetch her some water. Fetch enough for both of us. I’m parched too.”
Water. Yes. Right. Good idea. He scrambled to his feet, snatched up two empty beakers and took them into the bathroom. It was empty. No second Monk. Everywhere he turned, another bloody mystery. After filling the beakers with water he went back out to the lab.
