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THIRTY-FIVE

This time, it really was Lara. Go could hear her padding around in the darkness, but she smelled like the woman he had known: the strong musky perfume she favored was very distinct. He held his breath, fumbled for a cigarette, trying to look as though he'd just stopped for a moment in some endless flight through the city.

Surely she wouldn't fall for this? How mad was she, really? As if in answer, there came a growl. Don't look up, don't breathe. Would she wonder why he wasn't reacting to her presence? Did she truly think he might not have noticed? Then there was a sound that seemed to split the world and Go did look up at that, just in time to see the fire of yellow eyes as Lara leaped.

She hit him full on and Go, screaming, went down. The cigarette flew out of his hand and, weirdly, he watched the full arc of its trajectory as it hurtled into the pond and hissed out. Lara's stinking-meat breath made him gasp and retch, as though she had somehow sucked all the oxygen out of the immediate atmosphere. She had knocked the breath out of his lungs, his ribs ached with the shock of impact, but when she reared back Go still managed to find the strength to stagger to his feet and try to run, as if his body had been subject to sudden possession by a desperate spirit. Somewhere, someone else was shouting, but Go was past the point where he was able to distinguish words. Then he tripped over a tree root and fell full length. There was a curious noise like a puff of wind, then a shriek and a thump that shook the world. Go stayed where he was, facedown in loose earth, unable to move.

A moment later, however, someone was hauling him to his feet. "Come on, Go. You did it. She's down." Jhai's voice sounded exultant. Go was, for the moment, unashamed to lean his full weight on her; she bore it easily.

He had to drag his head up to look at Lara. The tigress' body lay twitching in spasms, a little distance away beneath the trees. Go's breath deserted him once more; she was surely twice as large as an ordinary, earthly tiger. What had he and Beni been thinking, to conjure up a monster such as this? Go looked back on his only-slightly-younger self with a feeling of wonder, as one who considers a madman.

"Yeah," Jhai said, following his gaze. "That's Lara, all right. Typically unreasonable."

"Is she—dead? Can she be dead?"

"No, we just tranked her. She'd just be shot straight back to Hell if we killed her here, and given what Savitra's told me, they'd make sure she came back again. Twice as angry. Which, I'm assuming, you'd prefer she didn't?"

"Too right," Go quavered. "What about a binding spell, then?"

Jhai made a get-moving gesture to the figures in the shadows. "On its way."

Go watched as the tigress' inert form was loaded onto a stretcher. It took half a dozen security personnel even to lift her. Jhai, watching also, shook her head. "I'm going to have her snapped permanently back to her human form once we've got her under lock and key. Much more manageable."

"Couldn't you do that here?"

"Look around you." Go did so, and saw that quite a few bystanders had congregated.

"If we did, and someone recognized her, called the media—you can see it, can't you? 'Movie Star in Stun Gun Shock.' Much better that they just see a dangerous wild animal of whom yours truly has just rid the city."

Admiringly, Go shook his head. "You seem to have everything covered." But he'd thought that last time, and turned to meet a tiger's eyes.

"Not quite everything," Jhai said. "I've got a fiancé to find. And you look like you need a drink."

No exaggeration there, Go thought. He'd nearly needed new trousers.

Go drank rather a lot, back at Paugeng, but it didn't seem to have much effect. Like most writers, he'd always been able to hold his booze, but this was unnatural: he'd already had three triple scotches and they might as well have been Perrier. Perhaps this was some aftereffect of industrial-level fear, or maybe—a disconcerting thought—it was the aftereffect of magic itself. He was still strangely aware of his blood roaming around the city. The sensation was fading, but still present. Since he wasn't getting any benefit from it, Go decided to stop drinking. He put his empty glass down on the bar, just as Jhai came through the door.

"How're you doing, Go?"

"Freaked out," Go told her, with truth.

"Okay. We've got Lara human, stable, securely contained, and semiconscious. Want to come and have a look at her?"

"Not particularly," Go said, but he rose anyway and followed Jhai to the elevator.

Paugeng's levels descended a long way. Go had heard that the new building had been built upon the foundations of the old, but he hadn't realized that the underground complex was so extensive. Jhai could be doing anything under here, he thought: missile silos, gladiatorial arenas . . . Not a comforting thought. He also hadn't realized that Paugeng's cells were quite as developed as they were, either: thick plexiglass walls and a lot of equipment that Go eyed askance. He didn't think Jhai was torturing things, exactly, but some of the individuals in the cells did not look entirely human.

Lara, however, did. Go had never seen her bedraggled before—even in the movies, when she'd been bloodied and beaten, the make-up department had made sure that her lip gloss remained intact and her mascara had not run. But now she seemed small, hunched into herself, head drooping. Go, however, was not fooled and when she looked up at their entrance, he knew that he had been right. Lara's eyes blazed like captive suns. When she saw Go on the other side of the plexiglass, she gave a silent snarl. She did not try to launch herself at the cell glass, but for a moment, Go thought she might. Then she saw the bodyguard at Jhai's shoulder and subsided.

"I'll need to question her," Jhai said. "But not until Chen gets here."

"You called him?" Go asked.

"Yes, but it's late now and the poor man ought to have some kind of a break. He's been having a difficult day, I gather."

"He's not the only one. Any sign of your fiancé?" Go chanced a look at Lara's face and wished he hadn't; her eyes were fixed on him and him alone. The expression in them was not encouraging.

"No." Beneath her cheerfully ruthless exterior, Jhai was genuinely worried, Go realized. He had no idea what kind of things befell demon consorts, but based on his own experience he doubted that it was anything good. "Anyway," Jhai said. "You've seen her now, you can see how securely we've got her, and Chen will be coming here in the morning to have her questioned. So you might be able to sleep tonight."

"Thank you," Go said. He doubted whether sleep would be on the agenda, given how wired he still felt, but it was comforting to see just how closely Lara was confined. And—stupidly—until Jhai had reminded him about Chen, Go had forgotten that Lara was the prime suspect in a murder case. He and Beni might have broken the law in summoning her up in the first place, but she had actually killed someone, a human, on Earth. This thought cheered him up more than anything else. Back in Paugeng's guest apartment, he found himself finally able to sleep, after all.

And yet, there were dreams.

He was following someone, but he was very small, almost infinitesimal, and nearly disembodied. Nearly, for he could feel some kind of form around him, enclosing him within itself like a pearl. He floated, at the level of a human hip, drifting through a kitchen. It was dirty, the floor and counter stained with what looked like blood, or red mold. As he floated by, a hand brought a cleaver down and with a dull thunk. Go smelled fresh meat and the odor was oddly alluring, drawing himself within its orbit like a captured star. But he did not like the look of the cleaver, so with an effort, he pulled away and sailed out through a grille into the street.

Fresher air, but not by much. He could tell that the city was humid, that it had just rained—and at the safe summit of Paugeng, Go's corporeal form stirred slightly in sleep, roused by the sudden monsoon hammer of drops against the windows. He wandered along the street, seeing distorted dark houses and then the flare of a neon sign. Above, he found that he could feel the stars, but not see them in the light pollution cast by the city: small distant spirits, faintly singing. Then, something seized him, an effortless snatch, and he was pulled down an alleyway as if sucked along by some airy riptide.

There was blood. A great deal of it, spilling in glorious profusion over the rainy concrete, mingling with water and running slowly down the gutter. Human blood, fresh, but there was no sign of a body. He cast about, seeking its source, found nothing. Yet he could feel someone there all the same, the dull glow of a fading spirit, and then a presence which slammed him back against the nearest wall, splitting, fragmenting, cohering once more to discover that this was the shadow of a presence only. It was nothing like Lara, but it frightened him more. A strong, calm sensation, with something so raw beneath it that the bubble of blood which contained a small portion of Go's own spirit fled shrieking into the comparative safety of the city beyond.

This was not all that Go dreamed. There were other things as well, other deaths. A woman slain, messily, alongside a stretch of black water. A child, head striking the wall, a sudden silence. Two dogs in a pit, a throat torn out. Go dreamed them all, lying restless in his bed, until the first light of the sun drew the magic from his dispersed blood like morning mist and Go was once more in one place, if a little diminished, waking with apprehension to the new day and whatever it might bring.

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Framed

Back | Next
Contents

THIRTY-FIVE

This time, it really was Lara. Go could hear her padding around in the darkness, but she smelled like the woman he had known: the strong musky perfume she favored was very distinct. He held his breath, fumbled for a cigarette, trying to look as though he'd just stopped for a moment in some endless flight through the city.

Surely she wouldn't fall for this? How mad was she, really? As if in answer, there came a growl. Don't look up, don't breathe. Would she wonder why he wasn't reacting to her presence? Did she truly think he might not have noticed? Then there was a sound that seemed to split the world and Go did look up at that, just in time to see the fire of yellow eyes as Lara leaped.

She hit him full on and Go, screaming, went down. The cigarette flew out of his hand and, weirdly, he watched the full arc of its trajectory as it hurtled into the pond and hissed out. Lara's stinking-meat breath made him gasp and retch, as though she had somehow sucked all the oxygen out of the immediate atmosphere. She had knocked the breath out of his lungs, his ribs ached with the shock of impact, but when she reared back Go still managed to find the strength to stagger to his feet and try to run, as if his body had been subject to sudden possession by a desperate spirit. Somewhere, someone else was shouting, but Go was past the point where he was able to distinguish words. Then he tripped over a tree root and fell full length. There was a curious noise like a puff of wind, then a shriek and a thump that shook the world. Go stayed where he was, facedown in loose earth, unable to move.

A moment later, however, someone was hauling him to his feet. "Come on, Go. You did it. She's down." Jhai's voice sounded exultant. Go was, for the moment, unashamed to lean his full weight on her; she bore it easily.

He had to drag his head up to look at Lara. The tigress' body lay twitching in spasms, a little distance away beneath the trees. Go's breath deserted him once more; she was surely twice as large as an ordinary, earthly tiger. What had he and Beni been thinking, to conjure up a monster such as this? Go looked back on his only-slightly-younger self with a feeling of wonder, as one who considers a madman.

"Yeah," Jhai said, following his gaze. "That's Lara, all right. Typically unreasonable."

"Is she—dead? Can she be dead?"

"No, we just tranked her. She'd just be shot straight back to Hell if we killed her here, and given what Savitra's told me, they'd make sure she came back again. Twice as angry. Which, I'm assuming, you'd prefer she didn't?"

"Too right," Go quavered. "What about a binding spell, then?"

Jhai made a get-moving gesture to the figures in the shadows. "On its way."

Go watched as the tigress' inert form was loaded onto a stretcher. It took half a dozen security personnel even to lift her. Jhai, watching also, shook her head. "I'm going to have her snapped permanently back to her human form once we've got her under lock and key. Much more manageable."

"Couldn't you do that here?"

"Look around you." Go did so, and saw that quite a few bystanders had congregated.

"If we did, and someone recognized her, called the media—you can see it, can't you? 'Movie Star in Stun Gun Shock.' Much better that they just see a dangerous wild animal of whom yours truly has just rid the city."

Admiringly, Go shook his head. "You seem to have everything covered." But he'd thought that last time, and turned to meet a tiger's eyes.

"Not quite everything," Jhai said. "I've got a fiancé to find. And you look like you need a drink."

No exaggeration there, Go thought. He'd nearly needed new trousers.

Go drank rather a lot, back at Paugeng, but it didn't seem to have much effect. Like most writers, he'd always been able to hold his booze, but this was unnatural: he'd already had three triple scotches and they might as well have been Perrier. Perhaps this was some aftereffect of industrial-level fear, or maybe—a disconcerting thought—it was the aftereffect of magic itself. He was still strangely aware of his blood roaming around the city. The sensation was fading, but still present. Since he wasn't getting any benefit from it, Go decided to stop drinking. He put his empty glass down on the bar, just as Jhai came through the door.

"How're you doing, Go?"

"Freaked out," Go told her, with truth.

"Okay. We've got Lara human, stable, securely contained, and semiconscious. Want to come and have a look at her?"

"Not particularly," Go said, but he rose anyway and followed Jhai to the elevator.

Paugeng's levels descended a long way. Go had heard that the new building had been built upon the foundations of the old, but he hadn't realized that the underground complex was so extensive. Jhai could be doing anything under here, he thought: missile silos, gladiatorial arenas . . . Not a comforting thought. He also hadn't realized that Paugeng's cells were quite as developed as they were, either: thick plexiglass walls and a lot of equipment that Go eyed askance. He didn't think Jhai was torturing things, exactly, but some of the individuals in the cells did not look entirely human.

Lara, however, did. Go had never seen her bedraggled before—even in the movies, when she'd been bloodied and beaten, the make-up department had made sure that her lip gloss remained intact and her mascara had not run. But now she seemed small, hunched into herself, head drooping. Go, however, was not fooled and when she looked up at their entrance, he knew that he had been right. Lara's eyes blazed like captive suns. When she saw Go on the other side of the plexiglass, she gave a silent snarl. She did not try to launch herself at the cell glass, but for a moment, Go thought she might. Then she saw the bodyguard at Jhai's shoulder and subsided.

"I'll need to question her," Jhai said. "But not until Chen gets here."

"You called him?" Go asked.

"Yes, but it's late now and the poor man ought to have some kind of a break. He's been having a difficult day, I gather."

"He's not the only one. Any sign of your fiancé?" Go chanced a look at Lara's face and wished he hadn't; her eyes were fixed on him and him alone. The expression in them was not encouraging.

"No." Beneath her cheerfully ruthless exterior, Jhai was genuinely worried, Go realized. He had no idea what kind of things befell demon consorts, but based on his own experience he doubted that it was anything good. "Anyway," Jhai said. "You've seen her now, you can see how securely we've got her, and Chen will be coming here in the morning to have her questioned. So you might be able to sleep tonight."

"Thank you," Go said. He doubted whether sleep would be on the agenda, given how wired he still felt, but it was comforting to see just how closely Lara was confined. And—stupidly—until Jhai had reminded him about Chen, Go had forgotten that Lara was the prime suspect in a murder case. He and Beni might have broken the law in summoning her up in the first place, but she had actually killed someone, a human, on Earth. This thought cheered him up more than anything else. Back in Paugeng's guest apartment, he found himself finally able to sleep, after all.

And yet, there were dreams.

He was following someone, but he was very small, almost infinitesimal, and nearly disembodied. Nearly, for he could feel some kind of form around him, enclosing him within itself like a pearl. He floated, at the level of a human hip, drifting through a kitchen. It was dirty, the floor and counter stained with what looked like blood, or red mold. As he floated by, a hand brought a cleaver down and with a dull thunk. Go smelled fresh meat and the odor was oddly alluring, drawing himself within its orbit like a captured star. But he did not like the look of the cleaver, so with an effort, he pulled away and sailed out through a grille into the street.

Fresher air, but not by much. He could tell that the city was humid, that it had just rained—and at the safe summit of Paugeng, Go's corporeal form stirred slightly in sleep, roused by the sudden monsoon hammer of drops against the windows. He wandered along the street, seeing distorted dark houses and then the flare of a neon sign. Above, he found that he could feel the stars, but not see them in the light pollution cast by the city: small distant spirits, faintly singing. Then, something seized him, an effortless snatch, and he was pulled down an alleyway as if sucked along by some airy riptide.

There was blood. A great deal of it, spilling in glorious profusion over the rainy concrete, mingling with water and running slowly down the gutter. Human blood, fresh, but there was no sign of a body. He cast about, seeking its source, found nothing. Yet he could feel someone there all the same, the dull glow of a fading spirit, and then a presence which slammed him back against the nearest wall, splitting, fragmenting, cohering once more to discover that this was the shadow of a presence only. It was nothing like Lara, but it frightened him more. A strong, calm sensation, with something so raw beneath it that the bubble of blood which contained a small portion of Go's own spirit fled shrieking into the comparative safety of the city beyond.

This was not all that Go dreamed. There were other things as well, other deaths. A woman slain, messily, alongside a stretch of black water. A child, head striking the wall, a sudden silence. Two dogs in a pit, a throat torn out. Go dreamed them all, lying restless in his bed, until the first light of the sun drew the magic from his dispersed blood like morning mist and Go was once more in one place, if a little diminished, waking with apprehension to the new day and whatever it might bring.

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Framed