by Helen Harper
‘But…’
The door re-opened and Mulroney and Jones stalked back in. This time neither of them sat down. ‘You discharged a firearm in a public place,’ Mulroney said.
‘And that is a criminal act,’ Jones added.
Mulroney clenched and unclenched his fists. ‘We are dropping the murder charge. But we will not forget the rest. However, your doctor is outside. He has documentation that proves you are mentally unbalanced and belong in a hospital.’ He let out a short, humourless laugh. ‘After all, you did tell us that you were a faery.’
Viburna stiffened visibly. Fortunately, both Mulroney and Jones were focused on me and didn’t notice.
Jones continued. ‘You are to be released into your doctor’s care and will remain on bail for the time being. You are not to leave the city of Manchester for any reason. There may be other charges to follow. Someone will be along shortly with the paperwork. Your belongings will be returned to you before you leave. We will be in touch.’ They both whirled round and made for the open door again.
It took me a moment to react. ‘Wait!’ I screeched. ‘You saw the video! I gave Charrie something that killed him. His death is my fault. You have to charge me now!’
Mulroney halted. ‘New evidence has come to light,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘We’ll give your barrister the details.’
‘I shot a gun in the city centre!’
‘You shot into the air.’
‘I’m an illegal immigrant!’
‘Your doctor has proved otherwise. He has identification for you.’
‘I mutilated a corpse!’
‘Corpse desecration is not, alas, a crime under English law.’
He had to be kidding me. ‘But…’
‘You’re being released on bail, Ms Hatter. Be thankful.’ He glanced at Viburna then at me again. ‘Anyone would think you wanted to be locked up.’ He continued on his way.
I clutched at Viburna’s arm. ‘Who in gasbudlikins is this doctor? Is he one of ours? Does he work for Morgan?’
She was even paler than before. ‘I don’t know.’
‘You need to do something. They can’t just let me walk out of here with that damned sphere. Rubus will—’
The white-coated figure of Carduus appeared in the doorway. The mad faery scientist, loyal only to one man. ‘Rubus will what?’ he enquired with a nasty smile.
My stomach dropped. Getting shot by armed police was better than this. Being cuffed to a hospital bed while fully unconscious was far, far better than this. Truthfully, taking a dip in a swimming pool of sewage and getting my hair caught in the filter so I slowly drowned wouldn’t be as bad as this.
I squared my shoulders. I was Madrona, the maybe-not-murdering-after-all Madhatter. I’d find a way to swim out. And hopefully drown arse-badgering Carduus in the process too.
Chapter Three
The best way to attack this situation was to make some noise. Without further ado, I started to scream at the top of my voice. The piercing noise bounced off the walls until I reckoned it sounded as if I were being dismembered limb by limb.
Mulroney was back in an instant. ‘What on earth is going on?’
‘This man!’ I screeched. ‘This man is not my doctor! In fact, he’s no doctor at all. Get him away from me!’
Carduus simply folded his hands together and looked concerned. ‘She’s obviously brain damaged. We need to get her back to the hospital and under proper care. She’s been off her medication for too long.’ His calm voice and placid features gave the impression of a kindly medical practitioner dealing with a crazed psychopath. Despite knowing that, I didn’t let up with my shrieks.
‘Viburna! Do something!’
Fortunately she finally stepped up and did her job like she was supposed to. ‘My client has nothing to do with this man. He is not a doctor and, as such, his reasons for taking away Ms Hatter can be nothing but nefarious.’
Nefarious. That was a great word. I bobbed my head with considerable energy and enthusiasm and stopped yelling just long enough to speak properly. ‘Yes! He’s definitely nefarious! And I’m not going anywhere near him!’
Mulroney frowned. He knew there was something going on but he couldn’t quite work out what. ‘I’ll double-check the paperwork.’
‘I can assure you,’ Carduus said mildly, ‘it’s all in order. Unfortunately, Madrona is a danger to herself. She believes herself to be a faery. If she thinks that she can fly too, and leaps off a building to prove it, well…’ He shook his head in dismay.
Jones reappeared, a sheet of paper in her hand. She handed it over to Mulroney. He scanned it then held it up. Both Viburna and I stared. It was completely blank.
‘I’m sorry,’ DI Mulroney said, not looking in the slightest bit sorry at all. ‘As you can see, the paperwork is all in order. The courts have ordered Madrona Hatter to be committed.’
My voice reached crazy decibel heights again. ‘There’s nothing written there! It’s just a blank piece of paper!’
Carduus tutted. ‘She’s hallucinating now. The faster we get her transported back to hospital the better.’
I looked at Viburna. There was no doubt from the expression in her eyes that she knew the paper was as unblemished as the perfect skin on my arse. Carduus or Rubus – or whoever happened to have enough magic skill – had done something to make Mulroney and the rest of the police see something completely different. It was a bloody clever glamour. But Viburna couldn’t let this happen. She was the lawyer around here; it was time she did some proper lawyering stuff.
I swung round to her and put my hands on my hips. My screaming had got attention; now I needed to get her respect. I forced myself to speak calmly and levelly. ‘You must be able to challenge this … court order.’
She shook herself. ‘Yes. Yes, I will.’ She drew herself up. ‘In fact—’
‘I should add,’ Carduus interrupted, ‘that my employer is outside waiting. He’s an important man but I can always ask him to join us to help iron out this little issue.’
Viburna went white. We both knew exactly who he was referring to. Rubus was out there. And, as the only Fey no longer affected by the truce that kept the rest of us in check and prevented us from attacking each other, he’d be able to use both magic and violence to do whatever he wanted.
I could tell Mulroney that Rubus was out there but what was the bet that the blasted faery would conjure up another glamour for himself to maintain his anonymity?
‘Viburna,’ I said through gritted teeth.
‘I…’ Her face fell and she looked away. ‘The paperwork seems to be in order legally,’ she muttered.
What. An. Arsebadger. So this was the new world order. Now that Rubus could hurt – or even kill – any of us, he was going to be granted permission to do whatever the hell he wanted. Even the likes of Viburna, who had a rod of steel up her arse, was too scared to go up against him.
For a moment I debated requesting that my belongings, and in particular the sphere, be released into Viburna’s care but it was clear that I could no longer count on her. Not that I ever had.
‘The last time I met something like you,’ I told her icily, ‘I flushed it.’ It wasn’t my best effort but I was under pressure and she got the point. Carduus just smirked. I glanced at Mulroney and Jones. ‘Get her out of here. Viburna Smith QC no longer represents me.’
Mulroney shrugged. He patently couldn’t give a toss what I decided to do. ‘As you wish.’
DC Jones, who until this point could hardly have been described as amiable or helpful, gave all three of us an assessing look. ‘The good doctor will meet you out front,’ she said.
Carduus frowned. ‘I’m not sure that’s…’
She glared at him and he subsided. I almost smiled. At least someone around here besides me had a bit of backbone. And until Rubus had his hands on the magical sphere, I wasn’t going to give up hope.
***
I was uncuffed and given enough crappy bits of paper to sign to fi
ll up even the roomiest recycling bin. A fresh-faced uniformed cop handed me my belongings in a sealed plastic bag and I relaxed slightly when I spotted the sphere nestled in the bottom. The fat lady hadn’t sung yet, regardless of who was out there on the street waiting for me.
‘I need to use the loo,’ I declared loudly.
He pointed me down the corridor. I sniffed, grabbed the bag and headed in that direction. I could feel Carduus’s eyes boring a hole in my back from the waiting room. He could bore away; I’d always thought he was a tedious sort of faery anyway.
Once inside the toilets, I darted into the nearest cubicle and dropped the lid so I could sit down then I used my teeth to tear open the plastic bag. I shoved my wallet into my back pocket before carefully drawing out the sphere.
I’d never really paid it much close attention before. It was about the size of a golf ball, with a smooth, glistening, silver exterior. It felt slightly warm to the touch but there was nothing that indicated it was an object that had the power to destroy worlds. Not, of course, that such destruction was its main aim.
Apparently the dragon Chen had created it in order to draw magic from other demesnes into this one. He’d wanted new ways to locate treasure for himself. Unfortunately for humanity, bringing such a flood of magic would unbalance this world. As a technology-driven demesne, it couldn’t cope. I didn’t know the specifics but I was aware that using the sphere would tip this already precarious place into an event of apocalyptic proportions. The world’s population would be decimated.
Rubus wanted the sphere because using it would re-open the borders to Mag Mell, the faery homelands. He didn’t care what happened afterwards in this demesne.
I hefted the sphere from hand to hand, rolling it through my fingers and thinking. In theory I could have swallowed it but goodness only knew what it would have done to my intestines. Irritable bowel syndrome or saving the world? It was a tough choice. Perhaps I should explore other avenues first.
I could conceal it in other body cavities. There were two likely possibilities. Neither particularly appealed although, given what I knew of Rubus’s distaste for germs, it would be rather enjoyable to see him try to get hold of the sphere and use it after it had been, erm, intimate with me. I pursed my lips. Given that he’d happily rip me apart to retrieve it, it probably wasn’t a suitable option.
I considered leaving it here. Maybe I could find a dusty corner somewhere to hide it in – but Rubus could easily send in his many minions to locate it. I tapped my mouth. No, I needed to be clever. Luckily, I was; I just had to think a wee bit harder and a solution would present itself.
The outside door to the toilets opened and I heard footsteps followed by a trundling wheel. A moment later, there was a deep sigh and the tinny sound of music. I heard the scoosh of a spray. Curious, I stood up and unlatched the cubicle to peek out.
A young woman stood with her back to me. She was wearing grubby overalls and using a yellow cloth to wipe one of the mirrors over the row of sinks. I used my intense powers of deduction and relaxed slightly. A cleaner. Admittedly, a cleaner with blue hair, a slim figure and appalling taste in music, but not anyone I should be afraid of. She knew how to dance as well, wiggling her body in time to the beat as she rubbed at a particularly stubborn streak.
Her earphones meant that she couldn’t hear me but my reflection caught me out. She jumped, startled at catching a glimpse of me in the mirror, then shot me a dazzling grin.
I stood up, flushed the toilet and ambled out towards the sinks. The woman, who couldn’t have been older than twenty-four or twenty-five, made room for me so I could wash my hands. Just before she turned, I spotted her identification badge: Charlotte Page. Pixie Dust Cleaning Services.
I almost crowed aloud. Well, then. It was simply meant to be.
I dried my hands and spoke. ‘Cool hair.’
She didn’t hear me. I tapped her on the shoulder and she glanced up, surprised. She took out the earphones and tilted her head questioningly towards me with a small smile that made dimples form in her cheeks. She had a snub nose that was incredibly cute and added to the overall effect of sweet wholesomeness. No wonder she worked for Pixie Dust Cleaning Services; she was less like the drug I was renowned for selling and more like something I wanted to put in my pocket and carry around with me.
‘Cool hair,’ I repeated.
Charlotte grinned. ‘Thanks. I love blue. Did you know that it’s been proved that weight lifters can lift heavier weights in blue-painted gyms?’ I stared at her as she laughed and flexed her arms. Then she leaned in towards me and tapped her nose. ‘I’ll let you into a secret about my hair.’ She paused. ‘It’s not natural.’
I laughed more than I should have done. I also relaxed even further. Little Miss Charlotte Page had a northern accent that couldn’t be faked. This was no glamoured-up faery; she was human through and through. She was also just what I needed.
I stumbled slightly, feinting left. As expected, Charlotte put out her hand to steady me. The moment she did so, I dropped the sphere into the large pocket at the front of her work tunic.
‘I’m so sorry! I’m hopelessly clumsy!’ I said.
She smiled at me again. She was beginning to annoy me now that she’d served her purpose; she was almost too winsome for words, despite the daft hair. Maybe, I pondered, this was why us faeries always had green eyes. Jealousy seemed to be a running theme.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Charlotte burbled.
Yep, far too cheery for her own good. Still, she was going to be an excellent mule. I congratulated myself on my genius-level plan and strolled out of the bathroom. I’d done all that I could for now.
Chapter Four
Fun as it would have been to skip happily towards Carduus, I couldn’t let him realise that I’d temporarily disposed of the sphere. As his figure came into sight, I dropped my happy amble in favour of a stiff-legged shuffle. I needed to appear as reluctant to reach him as possible. The sphere might be safe for the time being but I certainly wasn’t.
At least there was no sign of Viburna. That bloody Fey lawyer had done enough damage.
I was almost at the door when DC Jones caught up to me. She grabbed my elbow, causing me to whirl round and almost smack her in the face.
‘Sorry,’ she said, not sounding sorry at all. ‘I just wanted to catch you before you left. I think what you did what was a good thing. That doctor of yours gives me the heebie-jeebies but we can’t argue with a court order.’
It wasn’t an arsebadgering court order, it was a magicked-up sheet of blank paper. ‘What good thing did I do?’ I enquired irritably. It wasn’t her fault that she was human and had been fooled by faery machinations – but I was still going to hold it against her.
‘You helped that man,’ she said. ‘Mr Mickelson.’
For a moment I didn’t have the faintest idea who she was talking about. I scratched my head before abruptly realising. ‘Oh, you mean Charrie the Bogle.’
‘Bogle?’
Uh-oh. Me and my big mouth. ‘Bogle?’ I repeated, as if I’d never heard the word.
‘That’s what you said.’
I shook my head. ‘No, I didn’t. You must be hearing things.’ Time to change the subject. ‘And how in gasbudlikin hell did I help him?’
A faint line furrowed her brow. ‘You really do have amnesia.’
Good grief. Why did no one ever believe me about that? I gestured irritably. ‘As I have said.’
‘His family told us what you did. His wife. And his children. They all backed it up.’
Tense now, I watched her carefully for signs of subterfuge. ‘What exactly did I do?’ I asked carefully.
‘He had cancer. You gave him something to…’ she swallowed. ‘Look, I’m not supposed to agree with euthanasia. It’s against the law here. But I don’t think you did a bad thing.’
‘That bottle I gave him,’ I said, realising. ‘It was poison.’
DC Jones nodded. ‘His wife said he’d forced you
into getting some. He wanted to die on his own terms. You cut off his head afterwards to make it look like murder so she could still collect on the life insurance.’
Uh…
‘Of course,’ Jones added with another frown, ‘it doesn’t explain what happened to his body. But it puts you in the clear. You didn’t force him to drink poison, he made that decision of his own volition.’
It was a strange day when the police were letting me walk free after it had been proved I’d given a man a vial of poison that had caused his death and then I’d chopped off his head afterwards. Human law was a very odd thing indeed.
‘Okay, then.’ I pointed towards Carduus, who was watching us through the glass door with narrowed eyes. ‘I don’t suppose there’s anything you can do about him?’
‘I told you I can’t. I’m sorry. I do believe you’re a good person, Ms Hatter.’
‘I’m a very bad person.’
‘You’re not. Misguided, perhaps. But not really bad.’
I put my hands on my hips. ‘I’m an evil bitch. It’s already been agreed.’ Then it occurred to me that arguing with the police about how truly villainous I was probably wasn’t a good idea, not now that my release was already happening and the sphere was relatively safe. ‘No,’ I said. ‘You’re right. I’m actually very heroic.’
‘You are to Mr Mickelson’s family.’ Jones smiled faintly. ‘Just don’t go shooting up any more of our city.’
‘I’m about to be committed,’ I told her. ‘I don’t think I’ll have the chance.’
She grimaced. ‘Yeah. Well, I’ve heard straitjackets can be quite comfortable. And at least you’ll have a nice padded cell.’
I gazed at her. She smiled back. ‘You’re all heart,’ I told her.
She curtsied in response then reached into her pocket and pulled out a small card. ‘Just in case,’ she said with a smile. ‘My number is there.’
I felt that the police had failed more than enough by now; I was on my own, whether I liked it or not. I offered her a bob of my head and waited while she pressed the door-release button. Muttering under my breath, and still not sure whether the policewoman had been trying to be nice or trying to be nasty, I walked out.