The man raised his head as several guards walked into the room, the hard soles of their shoes click-clacking on the polished white floor. The guard at the head of the group, evidently the leader, pointed silently at him and beckoned with his finger. The man stood up slowly, keeping a hand on the back of his chair. There seemed to be an impression of instability about him, as though he was about to lose his balance and topple over or lose his calm at any moment.
‘What is it this time?’ the man asked, voice ragged with exhaustion and the agonizingly long wait in the room. He clung to the chair as though he could hardly support himself without it. The guard cleared his throat to indicate his impatience and took out a slip of paper.
‘Orders,’ the guard barked out, holding out the slip to the man.
The man waved a hand weakly and looked away, his face crumpling with disappointment and – what could only be – fear. The leader guard nodded to the rest behind him, and they spread out across the room and went to their stations in the corners. The man collapsed onto his chair and dropped his head onto the desk before him. A faint sound issued from his unseen lips, something between a whimper and a groan of despair.
The guards waited patiently for another half hour, before the leader left his corner and came to speak to the man. The man remained as he was, bowed over with his face hidden, emitting strange little noises from time to time.
‘Orders,’ the guard repeated, placing a hand lightly on the man’s shoulder. ‘We have been given orders, sir.’ He spoke firmly and respectfully, though with impatience. The person who had given the orders would undoubtedly be irritated with the unnecessary delay and the man’s reluctance to co-operate.
The man groaned loudly; this time it was audible enough to leave no one in any doubt of his feelings. The guard squeezed his shoulder briefly and waited.
A buzz filled the room, a harsh electronic sound issuing from one of the walls. The guard nearest to the sound touched something on the smooth surface of the wall, revealing a flap that had not been noticed till now. There was a camera lens and a speaker behind the flap, and the buzz was coming from the speaker.
‘Yes sir,’ the guard said, standing to attention. The other guards stood a little straighter in their posts and lifted their heads higher.
‘Why is he not in the appointed place?’ a tinny voice said peevishly. ‘I gave the order half an hour ago, and I expected him to be waiting in my office by now. Where is he?’ The lens swiveled smoothly in its socket to survey the room. It halted as its focus was directed on the hunched form of the man at his desk.
‘Sir,’ the leader said, stepping forward and blocking the man from view, ‘we believe that he is under considerable mental stress and needs immediate attention from the psychs. Would it be possible to bring a few here to examine him now?’
‘Are you disobeying me, Alpha 3?’ The tone of the electronic voice had changed swiftly to one of hostility and warning.
‘We are only concerned for the well-being of the man, sir,’ the leader replied, his face betraying no change of emotion.
‘That does not concern me.’ The camera lens rotated in a blur, panning the room at 360 degrees, at all angles. It was impossible to hide anything from the lens.
‘Yes sir,’ the leader said dutifully. ‘We will bring him up to your office right away, sir.’
‘At once,’ the voice commanded.
‘Yes sir,’ the other guards echoed.
The lens did another sweep of the room and then settled back in its groove. The guard who had opened the flap turned to shut it. The leader nodded to the rest. They came away from their posts and stood in a semicircle around the man.
‘It must be done,’ the leader said to the man. His tone was soft, almost coaxing.
The man lifted his head and sighed heavily. ‘I know. But I – I didn’t think it’d be this early. I have given them what they want! What more do they want?’ he cried.
‘Orders, sir,’ the leader said, not losing the coaxing note to his voice. The tone seemed false beneath its apparent sincerity; the guard had been trained to behave in this manner in this situation; he was a professional.
‘I know, I know!’ The man gripped the edge of his desk and stared at the unremarkable white surface. ‘It is now. No time to waste.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The leader nodded once to his colleagues.
Several pairs of hands pulled the man to his feet; several other hands pulled the chair out from beneath him. A pair of hands pulled his fingers loose from the desk and held them in a tight clasp. The man felt himself lifted off his feet and placed onto some material suspended at both ends. He found himself on his back, staring up at the solitary lamp with its bright white light, the only source of light in the room, unending and never switched off, for days, for months, maybe years. The lamp moved out of his sight; they were bearing him out of the room. Through the doorway and along the dark cold corridors – a man in a white coat stepped out from one dark doorway with a syringe and stopped the guards.
‘Orders,’ the man in the coat said.
The man in the coat inserted the needle – he, lying prone and without any desire to move or protest, felt the point of the needle pierce his skin; the sensation was so familiar and frequent over the past days and weeks, and yet his body rebelled involuntarily every time it happened; he had risen to his elbows without realizing it – the man in the coat pushed him down gently and pulled out the needle.
‘He’ll be fine,’ the man in the coat said to the guards. ‘Just a little sedative to help him sleep.’
His eyes were closing – little creeping spots of darkness were drifting in and out of his sight, like oil on the surface of water – he was losing his focus – what were the guards saying now –
A cat slinked between the shadows of the dark corridors and padded silently after the guards and the man on the stretcher. As the little procession descended several stairs, the cat slid through a dark doorway and vanished, lost from the sight of anyone or anything that had been observing it.
It felt as though the world had ended.
Correction, Iris said to herself, the world as we know it has ended. The world itself has not ended, because it exists in itself, and therefore the fact of its existence is confirmed because it is existing at this moment in time and we can perceive that it does, therefore existence per se –
‘Gets a bit crazy after a while eh?’ Art grumbled beside her.
She smiled wanly at him and shrugged. He at least had the same views as she did on the recent developments. The others had been more concerned about action than thought.
Mr. Sept paced before them, thin back bent in the firelight, head down and brows furrowed, pondering the next step to take. Jonas had gone back to sleep and was even now murmuring in his dreams. The cat had left hours ago, presumably to perform the necessary step Mr. Sept had told him to. And the lady –
She sat curled up before the fire with Art’s blanket around her shoulders. Since her sudden appearance, she had not spoken much to the others. She seemed to have found out the facts from the cat without actually speaking to it; the cat had taken for granted that the others would relay the information to her. Art and Iris had not bothered to do so, and Mr. Sept had been too engrossed in his own thoughts to notice.
‘Mac says that the man is guarded at all hours,’ Mr. Sept muttered to himself. ‘That would make it impossible, unless…’
‘Who’s Mac?’ Art asked, stifling a yawn.
‘The cat,’ Iris answered, running her fingers through her hair. She had been doing it on and off since the haircut. It seemed to relieve her agitation in some indefinable way.
‘Didn’t know it had a name.’ Art yawned again, feeling his eyes water.
‘Of course it does,’ Iris said distractedly, ‘and the man told him that it was his – Mac, I mean – name before he started thinking and speaking. Mac thought it’d be all right to adopt the name, since he doesn’t have a clear concept of names anyway.’
‘So Mac’s a he,’ Art concluded. ‘I see.’ Not that it’s an important fact anyway, he wondered sleepily. The cat was a male…and so?
‘I know it doesn’t make sense, but I think I’ve seen Mac before I even saw him,’ Iris mused, chuckling. ‘Odd, since I don’t even like cats that much.’
‘Maybe you have,’ Art joked. ‘In an alternate universe.’
‘That could be possible,’ the lady said gravely. She pulled the blanket closer around her shoulders and turned to look at the boy and girl. ‘Would you believe me if I told you that there are other worlds, besides the one you are in at this moment?’
‘It could be,’ Art said, and added as an afterthought, ‘theoretically.’
‘Theorists are not always wrong,’ the lady said. ‘For centuries now their far-fetched theories and predictions have been the basis for scientific breakthroughs and developments. But what if – what if – they were right after the actual event occurred?’
‘Are you saying that there is concrete proof that other worlds exist?’
‘Yes, if you would believe me,’ the lady replied. ‘I can show them to you, or what’s left of them.’
‘Wait, wait,’ Iris interrupted, laughing skeptically, ‘are you lying or do you actually believe that alternate worlds do exist?’ She held up her hands and exclaimed dramatically, ‘Lo and behold!’
‘You think I’m lying.’ The lady shook her head slowly and smiled. ‘But would you believe me after you saw them for yourself?’
‘Well if you can, maybe I would,’ Iris conceded. ‘Show us.’
‘We have to wait till we speak to your father.’ The lady glanced at Mr. Sept, who continued pacing and muttering incoherently, deep in thought. ‘We have to wait for Mac to return.’
‘But he’s just left,’ Iris pointed out, ‘how can he reach my supposed father so soon? It took him weeks to find me.’
‘Oneiric energy.’ The lady shifted her gaze to Art. The boy stared at her, nonplussed.
‘You’re lying,’ he said flatly.
‘Perhaps.’ Lady Nyamph appeared to be unaffected by his accusation. ‘But I know much more of it than you do – no, much more about it than anyone does.’
‘Then show us,’ Iris challenged, rising to her knees. ‘Show us these worlds, and we’ll believe you. Show us the oneiric energy or whatever it is you say you know, and we’ll believe you. Show us that you’re not lying – haven’t been lying to us – and we’ll believe you.’
‘Iris.’ Art pulled her down gently and turned to the lady, ‘Will you?’
‘I would, but this isn’t a convenient time,’ the lady said. ‘I know you haven’t trusted me since we met, Iris, but for now, I would ask you not to jump to conclusions. Whatever I have done, or tried to, was for your sake and Art’s.’
‘Then why were the glams avoiding you?’ Iris raised her head triumphantly, confident that she had spotted the flaw in the argument.
‘Because I suspect that they have already given their loyalty to someone else, someone who wants you,’ the lady replied, unperturbed. ‘Someone who could harm you – perhaps it’s the same person who sent those men to kidnap you. Have you not considered the possibility?’
‘Did you speak to the Queen then?’ Art asked.
‘I have.’ The lady looked down at her feet, her pale cheeks turning pink with some unidentifiable emotion. ‘She did not question the glams’ loyalty; she believes that they will always be loyal to her. She, on her part, thought I was trying to cheat her for my own ends.’ The lady looked up again, meeting Art’s and Iris’s curious eyes. ‘I promise you, I was only trying to help you both. You are both in danger, and yet you don’t realize it, and neither do the others. Trust me.’
‘I don’t know if I should,’ Iris said uncertainly. ‘I really don’t know.’
‘I would…’ Art fiddled with the edge of the blanket, trying his best to arrange his thoughts. ‘But if I do, what will you do next? Can I trust you that you have told us everything?’
‘I haven’t, I admit.’ The lady looked away from Iris’s accusing glare. ‘I will now. However…will you follow whatever I tell you to do, even if I go against Mr. Sept?’
‘That’s stupid!’ Iris burst out. ‘Do you think we’re stupid, lady?’
‘Iris, shh.’ Art placed a restraining hand on her shoulder to prevent her from leaving before the lady had her say. ‘Why do you say that?’ he said to the lady. ‘Do you realize what you’re asking of us?’
‘Of course I do.’ Doubt flitted across her face for a moment, but the expression was immediately replaced by one of reassurance and patience. ‘But are you willing to do that for me?’
‘Yeah right.’ Iris snorted derisively. ‘Agree to go along with a mad lady without knowing what will happen – a clever plan, that is. Amazing. Wonderful. Awesome.’
‘Of course you don’t have to.’ The lady reached over and patted the girl’s arm understandingly. ‘You’re most welcome to live the rest of your life in this illusion while a man who thinks himself your father languishes in prison until they kill him, or fortunately, he dies a natural death. It’s okay if you don’t want to go. You’re part of a story anyway, probably something out of a twisted imagination with nothing else to do.’
‘Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Iris mumbled, drawing her hand away in disgust. ‘You’re sick, lady.’
‘Wait, hold on,’ Art cut in impatiently. ‘What do you want us to do then, lady? Does it involve murder? Do we have to risk our lives stupidly only for some other person to cheat us? Or do we have to do what you said – just follow whatever you tell us to?’
‘But she can tell us to murder or do whatever it is!’ Iris argued. ‘Are you going to trust her then?’
‘D’you know what they say about gut instinct?’
‘Yeah?’ Iris snorted and laughed in his face. ‘Am I supposed to follow my gut instinct and go along with this lady?’
‘Not yours,’ Art said, ‘mine.’
‘Ah. Brilliant. And I was thinking of inviting you to my funeral in the near future, but I don’t think that can be arranged because you’d be dead by then too!’ Iris shrieked.
‘Good.’ Mr. Sept stopped and stared at the little group in surprise. ‘What were you saying?’
‘I was telling them something about leading these kids into danger,’ the lady supplied sweetly, ‘and assuring them that it will involve the risk of dying prematurely.’
‘Ah, I see,’ Mr. Sept said. He didn’t sound like he had seen, because he went back to pacing and muttering. Iris stared at the man in shock, but it was clear that he had not heard a word of what the lady had said.
‘I have a feeling about this,’ Iris said, ‘do you remember what I said about minding the nuts?’
‘Yeah.’ Art shrugged. ‘It doesn’t apply in this situation. It would be a pithy saying for future generations perhaps, if we ever had a chance to record it for posterity, but for now – no, I don’t think it’s the appropriate line in this case.’
‘Art!’ The girl pushed him over roughly. ‘What’s up with you? What are we to do now, since the lady insists in trying to kill us?’
‘Believe me; I am not trying to kill you.’ The lady sighed. ‘I was only trying to convince you that I may know much more than Mr. Sept does or would know, and that it would be wiser for you two to follow me instead of listening to the orders of a man who clearly does not know what will happen to him.’
‘And why will we do that?’ Iris got up and went over to the window, obviously not interested to hear the answer.
‘A stubborn young lady is she not?’ the lady observed wryly. ‘My time is running out, dear, and if you could be so kind as to help me finish this quick, I’d be very much obliged to you. Besides, there’s the whole messy business with the fairy’s death.’ Her expression changed to sympathy as she turned to Art. ‘I am sorry…but though Mr. Sept did say that he would bear the responsibility of the Queen’s Demand, I’m afraid that she will insist on having you, as you were the last person to speak to the fairy.’ She leaned in close to whisper, ‘Did you know her name?’
‘Erm, no.’ Art shook his head sheepishly. ‘She never told me, and I kind of…forgot to ask. It didn’t seem necessary for me to address her by her name. Erm. Do you know?’
‘No.’ The lady tapped a finger against her nose. ‘It would help if we knew her name, because then you would be able…never mind. What’s done is done, and you’ll still have to bear the Queen’s Demand.’
‘What is the Queen’s Demand then?’
‘The Queen has the right to ask for compensation for the fairy’s death, and she has the right to ask for anything – from a life to gold to your company for seven years with her.’
Art gulped. ‘Anything, you say?’
‘Yes, unfortunately.’
A gasp from Iris caught their attention. She backed away from the window, mouth open in horror.
‘What is it?’ the lady said, leaping to her feet.
‘Men with firearms…help!’
The lady clapped a hand over the girl’s mouth and pulled her away from the window. She nodded to Art, who got up immediately. Mr. Sept was frozen in place, mouthing soundlessly as he watched the men coming nearer and nearer to the house.
‘Now do you believe me?’ the lady hissed. ‘Grab my hand.’
Art reached for her hand and held on tight. The floor seemed to tilt, against all laws of physics. Mr. Sept lunged across the room to grab Art, but before he was halfway there –
The door burst open, and the collective clicks of firearms being held ready to shoot could be heard –
Liz was at the doorway, screaming –
The lady yelled and then they were –
They landed on something soft, which split and swished all around them.
Art was the first to get to his feet. The sight that met his eyes made him sit down again. The lady grinned at him, releasing her tight hold on Iris. The girl collapsed onto her back, mouth still open in a silent scream.
They were in a vast field of sunflowers.
‘No shit,’ Iris said.
‘Yes it is, but it isn’t shit,’ the lady said happily. ‘Right on time and in the right place too!’ she crowed jubilantly. ‘I’m not that far gone yet, you hear me? I’m not dead!’ she yelled to no one in particular.
‘This is crazy.’ It seemed that this place still could not erase the old cliché of someone stating the obvious, i.e. “This is crazy”, when the evidence of their sight could not be denied and it was telling them emphatically: yes, they were sitting in the middle of a field of sunflowers and therefore it wasn’t crazy because they were not crazy, were they? Art shook his head in amazement, surprised that that thought could occur to him in a place like this. It was that problem with the pinball machines again…what were pinball machines anyway?
‘What are pinball machines?’ he said to the lady, who stared back at him in equal perplexity.
‘Where are we?’ Iris demanded.
‘In another world,’ the lady replied nonchalantly. ‘It’s a funny world, isn’t it?’
‘It’s made up of…sunflowers?’ Art ventured. ‘Then yeah, it is funny.’
‘No,’ the lady laughed, ‘what I meant was that each world is unique, of course, but we tend to think that anything that doesn’t conform to our ideas of normal would be “funny”. I was just…joking. You know – irony?’
‘Yeah, whatever.’ Iris threw the lady a dirty look and sat up. ‘Now get us out of here.’
‘I can’t.’ The lady threw up her hands and giggled. ‘I need to know the edges and characteristics of this world first, and it might take days and days.’
‘Any other suggestions?’ Iris whispered out of the corner of her mouth.
Art shrugged. Sunflowers bent in the breeze, huge yellow heads touching his face and head lightly. The lady spread her arms above her head, setting more sunflowers to sway. This world felt completely empty, devoid of humans and animals – not insects though, because a bee just buzzed past his ear – with mile upon mile of sunflowers.
‘Sunflower fields forever, har har.’ It sounded like a bleak joke. Iris agreed with him, by the look she was giving him.
‘Don’t worry.’ The lady waded through the sea of sunflowers a short distance away. The sunflowers reached her shoulders at their tallest, but several were only up to her waist.
‘How about this – you grab her legs and I hold down her arms?’ Iris said in an undertone to Art. The lady half-turned to look back, but she couldn’t have heard; Iris had spoken too softly.
‘Wait. I want to see what she’ll do,’ Art whispered back. ‘I know this is crazy – I’m having trouble believing this – but she’s proven that what she said was true, right? There are alternate worlds that we didn’t know existed all this time.’
‘Yeah yeah.’ Iris rolled her eyes, reluctant to admit that the lady was right after all. ‘So what do we do now – follow her or what?’
‘Yep, we follow her, and hope that she gets us out of here.’
‘Oh she will.’
‘And how do you know that, miss?’
‘Mac. We have to meet that guy who says he’s my dad, right? If Mac can find us here, he’ll tell us the way out!’
‘Hey you’re right.’ Art grinned at her, seeing a smirk developing on her face. ‘Amazing – you’re using your brain to think!’
‘Oh shove off. Hold it. What’s she doing now?’
The lady had stopped wading through the flowers and stood unmoving in one spot, her head bent as though she was thinking. The other two waited for her to move, puzzled and worried. Then the lady raised her head and waved them over to her.
‘Should we go to her?’ Iris said hesitantly. ‘I think there’s something up…she looks worried.’
‘Do we have a choice, do you think?’ Art said, gingerly making his way over to the lady as best as he could without squashing more sunflowers.
‘We do, we always do.’ Iris followed after him, stomping over sunflowers without concern to relieve her irritation and frustration. ‘We could just stay here till someone finds us or something.’
‘Or nothing, Iris,’ Art pointed out, ‘we could be the only ones in this place. And then we’d starve to death before anyone found us.’
‘We could eat sunflower seeds.’ Iris yanked at a particularly tall stalk and poked him in the back with the large flower head. ‘I like sunflower seeds.’
‘Well I don’t. Now try not to make too much trouble, all right?’
‘I think I know,’ the lady said when they reached her.
‘Know what?’ Art noticed the frown, the worry lines at the corner of the lady’s eyes, and held out a warning hand behind his back to Iris.
‘The way out.’ The lady scanned the horizon and shaded her eyes. ‘I don’t know if they’ve changed anything.’
‘Who are they?’
‘They – they’re the same people who has your father, Iris.’
‘I don’t know which father you’re talking about,’ Iris said haughtily.
‘The man you think is your father does not concern me right now,’ the lady retorted, her eyes narrowing. ‘I’m trying to help you here.’
‘Yes yes.’ Art stepped between them hastily. ‘Sorry. What were you saying, lady?’
‘Call me Nyamph. I’m not lady anything.’
‘Er – Nyamph, got it. So – what are you going to do now?’
The lady – no, Nyamph – held out her hands in front of her and felt the air like a blind person. Iris made a face and turned away, crossing her arms to show her displeasure. Art followed the movement of Nyamph’s hands and fingers in the air; she seemed to be feeling along invisible seams and edges without needing to use her eyes. Were worlds made of pieces and parts and sewn together to make a whole?
The right hand stopped and the index finger raised itself to a particular spot. Nyamph edged her other hand over to the right and placed the other index finger below the first. She curled both in opposite directions, and pulled –
With a sound very much like tearing cloth, the edge of the world came apart, letting in cool air and drops of rain. Iris had her hands at her mouth in disbelief, her eyes wide. Art stepped closer to the gap, gaping with delight and shock. Nyamph pulled further, now using all her fingers and arms. She glanced over her shoulder to smile briefly to the two, with a look that clearly said, ‘See, I told you I was telling the truth the whole time!’
‘No shit,’ Iris breathed. ‘Dear gods.’
‘Now do you believe me?’ Nyamph asked. ‘Do I need to tell you more?’
‘Well you could show us oneiric energy,’ Art said weakly.
‘That will come later, I promise you.’ Nyamph stepped back from the gap, but kept one hand on the edge to ensure that it remained open. ‘Come on, we need to get there quickly.’
‘Go where?’ Iris went right up to the gap and paused, fascination taking over her disbelief and doubt.
‘Save your father, of course.’
‘But I thought we were waiting for Mac – ‘
‘Mac was just giving the warning,’ Nyamph explained. ‘So that the man has time to get ready and plan his next step. Come on.’
A movement at the corner of his eye caught Art’s attention. He swiveled to see sunflower stalks being tossed into the air, cut neatly at their base. And rising with the stalks were the glams and a few fairies on the backs of glams who had changed their shape into birds.
Nyamph gasped and pushed Iris through the gap. Art scrambled after the girl, feeling the lady dive through the gap after him. A loud buzz had risen in the still air; the bees had been summoned to stop them from leaving. Several tiny voices yelled – those were the fairies, while the glams’ voices – magnified and angry – shouted after them to stop.
Nyamph reached past Art and yanked the edges together. A fairy that had managed to get his arm through yelled in pain before the cry was cut off as the edges sealed themselves. The arm fell to the ground, leaking blood.
‘Oh gods, oh gods,’ Iris groaned. ‘Can they get through?’
‘No.’ Nyamph quickly ran her fingers over the invisible edge and breathed a sigh of relief. ‘No, of course not.’
‘I don’t think so, lady.’
Iris gave a whimper as a man grabbed her hair and hauled her up.
‘Now turn around slowly and hold your hands up,’ said a different man’s voice.
Art did as he was told. The shorter man had pinned Iris’s arms behind her back, while the taller one had his knife out, its tip inches from the boy’s ear.
‘Here, lady, do as you’re told,’ the shorter one said.
Nyamph remained as she was, her face flushed. The knife tip moved deliberately from Art to the lady. The taller man jerked his head, indicating that she should stand up and not argue.
‘Please,’ Iris said softly, ‘before he does anything.’ The man holding her tugged at her hair.
‘I know what you’ve been offered,’ Nyamph said, her voice steady despite her ragged breathing, ‘and I know who offered it to you.’
‘So what?’ the shorter man sneered. ‘We can dispose of you quick enough, no questions asked. Do what we tell you, lady. Now get up.’
‘Stop – ‘
The knife swung to Art and came to a stop in the air a very short distance above his shoulder. Art fell silent immediately.
‘Where are they then?’ Nyamph continued speaking. ‘Where are the men who hired you?’
‘Not your business to know,’ the shorter man answered. ‘Look, we’re being nice as it is. Do you want to get hurt?’
‘Obviously I don’t.’ Nyamph nodded once and stood up. ‘Are you going to tell me or not?’
‘Not,’ the taller man said. The knife remained where it was near Art, but the expression on the man’s face indicated that he would harm her too if she dared say more.
‘Violence never works, you know.’ Nyamph shrugged. ‘They might not even pay you and your friend after all this is over.’
‘Think we’re stupid, lady?’ the shorter man said.
‘I didn’t say – ‘
The taller man moved very quickly; within seconds the knife was at Nyamph’s face and he had her on the ground, her arms pinned behind her back. Iris bit back another whimper and hid her face. The shorter man pulled at her hair and her head snapped back in pain.
‘Now gentlemen,’ someone else said, ‘that will not be necessary.’
Both the men released Iris and Nyamph and stepped back quietly. Art dared not turn his head, but an arm in a long gray sleeve reached across his line of vision and grasped Nyamph’s shoulder.
‘Dear dear,’ the man said, ‘you again?’
Nyamph did not answer, keeping her head down.
‘It was incredibly stupid to think that you could stop these two from coming to me, you know.’ The hand moved to her head and patted it with exaggerated gentleness, like an adult would to console a disappointed child. The gesture was meant to humiliate Nyamph, Art knew, but the lady remained motionless.
Iris rolled over to look at the man. Her eyes widened in horror.
‘You?’ she said, her voice cracking.
‘Ah yes, me.’ The man seemed amused, almost pleased. ‘Now turn around, Art, and say something to me.’
The boy did turn around, very slowly, dread and anticipation slowly replacing the fear.
It was Mr. Sept – a younger, handsomer and well-dressed Mr. Sept. The man smiled at him, the familiar eyes now colder than the warm and kindly expression Art was used to see in them.
‘Surprise.’ The man spread his arms out and laughed. ‘Fooled you all, didn’t I?’ He squeezed Art’s cheek affectionately. ‘Say something, boy.’
‘Erm,’ was all he could get out.
‘Good enough.’ The man nodded to the two other men. ‘Bring these two up to my office. I shall deal with the lady.’
‘But you can’t – ‘ Iris protested uselessly.
The lady shook her head and said nothing. Iris fell silent immediately.
The younger Mr. Sept paused and sighed. ‘You’re wrong, Iris,’ he said. ‘I already did.’
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