The Master Of Misrule Part 15

It was extraordinary the difference it made to the landscape. What had seemed murky and desolate was now flooded with eerie beauty. Opalescent light danced on the water and reeds, giving the mist that rose up from them a rainbow tint. Even the air smelled sweeter.

"We should stick close," said Cat, "and wait for the guide the High Priestess told us about. All too easy to get lost in this mist."

Everything had become too dreamlike for her to be truly anxious, but as the haze condensed into a billowing, creamy fog, and the others sank away into its depths, she felt a stirring of unease. Then she saw Flora emerge, her figure dim and gauzy, and farther away than Cat had thought.

Except it wasn't Flora. The woman's hair was darker and longer than Flora's. Her face was Cat's face, and Bel's, too, but different from both: shockingly familiar, impossibly real.

"M-Mum?"

Her mother smiled, and reached out her arms.

From the cloudiness behind, someone called out, "Wait-" but Cat didn't hear them. She was lurching into the mist and moons.h.i.+ne, their rainbow glisten flooding her with almost unbearable happiness. So her mum hadn't really been shot by the stranger. She'd managed to escape into the Arcanum. All this time, she'd been waiting for Cat to find her and bring her home- Cat flung herself forward, blindly. She was pulled into an embrace of soft, yielding flesh, and felt warm breath and tickling hair against her cheek. Both their faces were wet with tears. Cat closed her eyes. Without knowing it, she had been waiting her whole life for this moment.

"Cat, thank G.o.d. I-I was so frightened-I-" It was Bel. Bel, dressed in her croupier's uniform of tight black skirt and low-necked satin blouse. Her eyes were wide and startled, darting round at the fog. Mascara had smudged down one side of her face. She held on to Cat by both arms.

"I don't understand. Where are we? What's happened?"

"You!" Cat choked out. She twisted herself free and backed away. "Why is it you?"

"Cat, don't look at me like that. I-"

"What have you done to my mother?"

"Nothing! It wasn't me. It wasn't my fault, I swear it.... Please, wait-don't leave me here!" begged Bel.

Cat would have thought that if she was going to be terrorized by a phantom, it would have been the man with the stammer and the gun, yet somehow this was worse. She could feel wetness ooze around her ankles and mud suck at her feet. She didn't care. She just wanted to get away. But the Arcanum-Bel still held out her arms imploringly.

"I'm so sorry, Cat. I didn't mean for it to happen. I didn't know what I was getting into. You have to believe me. Please-you have to forgive me. Please ..."

The fog swallowed her up, and Cat was alone in the stinking, sinking bog. "Toby? What are you doing here?" Mia asked, peering at him through a veil of mist.

"I'm searching for Eternity. So we can stop the Master of Misrule." Toby looked round for the others, but they must have wandered off somewhere. It was odd how little this troubled him.

"Oh. Right. Of course you are."

"So ... what are you doing?"

She lowered her voice. "I'm looking for Mr. Marlow. Our fight isn't finished, you see. Two knights playing for the same triumph at the same time; only one can win. Those are the rules."

"But I thought you had to start a new round-"

"Shhh!" Mia held up a hand. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

She looked around nervously. "He's hiding in the fog. I saw him just a minute ago."

Toby drew nearer to where Mia was standing.

"Look! There-oh G.o.d-I saw something move." Mia's voice was taut with fear. She beckoned him farther into the gloom. "Follow me, this way.... We have to hide."

Toby's breaths came shallow and fast. The moonlight was playing tricks on his vision, so that everywhere he looked, he saw shape-s.h.i.+fting shadows loom out of the fog before falling back and dissolving into nothing. More worryingly, he could feel the ground beginning to soften.

"Mia, stop," he hissed. "We're in a swamp. It isn't safe."

"That's why we have to get away. Then we can circle back and catch Marlow before he catches us. Come on."

He stayed where he was.

"I'm not going any farther."

Mud sucked and tugged at his feet.

"It's our only chance."

"No."

"Your only chance."

Grace looked different than she had in the Eight of Swords. Her hair was wet and straggling, and the red evening dress was stained with mud. "Come on!" Grace called out from the nothingness. "Quick, Flo-Flo. We have to hurry!"

"Wait," Flora entreated. "Wait."

She hastened after her sister again, although this time there was no snow or briars, no drunken revelers, only pearly cloud, and cold waters seeping underfoot. Even as she strained for a glimpse of scarlet skirts and golden hair, she knew it was pointless. The apparition was as insubstantial as water vapor. Yet Flora stumbled on.

The fog rolled and rose around. Flora could barely see her own hand in front of her face. But it cleared a little, and she saw a tall, blond figure, standing-waiting-a few feet ahead.

"Grace!"

"Flo?" said Charlie's voice.

Tall, blond Charlie. He looked just as he had when they had parted in the study, a shock of hair falling over his clear blue eyes, a disconcerted frown on his face. Flora cursed the Arcanum, her sister and most of all her gullible, useless self. You fool, she thought. Did you really think it would be as easy as that?

"Flo-what is this place? I'm dreaming, right?"

She laughed bitterly. "Ghosts don't dream."

"How do you mean?"

"I mean," she said wearily, "that's all you are. An illusion. Another phantom of the Game."

"Funny," mused Charlie. "It doesn't feel like being asleep. So perhaps you're right. Perhaps I have died without realizing it. This is pretty much how I imagine limbo to be." He smiled at her. "Though I'm glad you're here to keep me company."

Flora turned away and looked for signs of the others, of real life, but there was nothing. It was just the two of them, alone in the fog blindness.

"Why did you think I was Grace?" Charlie asked.

"Because she was here."

"Her ghost?"

"Sort of." Then, forcefully, "But my sister's not dead."

"No. No, of course not."

"That's why I have to win Eternity: to bring her back. And to save the real you, along with everyone else." She regarded him ruefully. "Though you don't know it yet, I've put you in terrible danger. Misrule is my fault."

"I'm not sure I understand...."

"It doesn't matter."

"It does if you're upset about it. I was thinking about Grace earlier. Today was one of Will's visits to the clinic, you see."

"Nice that someone still bothers."

"I suppose, even now, he feels a little guilty."

"Guilty?" Flora repeated sharply. "Why?"

Charlie tilted his head back to look at the sky, where a sliver of moon had briefly appeared. "Is this where you go, Flora?" he murmured. "The secret place where none of your friends can follow ... Is this your other world?"

She s.h.i.+vered. The air felt colder, and the smell of slime and weeds had returned. "Listen, whatever-you-are, you have to tell me. Tell me why Will would feel guilty."

"Oh. It's just one of those stupid things. You see, Grace had a bit of a crush on him. During his playboy phase, unfortunately."

"That's-that's ridiculous."

"A couple of their friends knew about it. It's no big deal."

"Shut up. You're lying. Shut up. You're just another Arcanum lie, another trick-"

But her protestations were hollow. Flora had always wondered what had driven Grace into the Game, and what prize it could offer that her sister didn't already have. What, then, if this thing with Will had been more than an unrequited crush? Had Grace gambled on the Triumph of Love to make her dream come true? "Liar," Flora spat, though it wasn't any good. The phantom Charlie had spoken truths that the real person never would. Her sister had risked everything, lost herself, broken their family ... and all because of a boy.

"Flo, don't cry. Everything's fine, you know: this is just a dream. And if it's not real, nothing matters because there's nothing to lose. I can say what I like. I can do what I want...."

He leaned in, tenderly.

"It's your fault," she screamed. "You and your stupid brother. Your fault!" And she hit him across the face.

It made a satisfyingly loud smack. Her own hand tingled from the impact. Then Flora blundered away into the fog.

Blaine had been waiting for this moment for a long, long time. He'd dreamed of it, too-of being in a wasteland of cloud and shadows. Of knowing that Helen was lost and alone, crying for help, while Arthur stood over him and wouldn't let him pa.s.s. Arthur's eyes would gleam and he would moisten his prissy mouth in antic.i.p.ation, the way he used to just before he'd hit him. Boys will be boys, he'd say as he pulled out the knife.

This was different. This was Arthur's nightmare. Blaine was king, a master of the Game, and the Arcanum was his hunting ground. As he crept through the coiling haze, he couldn't always see his stepfather, but he could sense his haphazard, halting movements, only a little way ahead. He could taste Arthur's fear. He could hear his whimpering, panicked breath and smell his sweat.

Blaine wouldn't need a knife. There were pools underfoot, shallow, but still deep enough to choke the life out of a man.... Stealthily, he pursued his prey farther into the marshes, along an increasingly tortuous trail. Each time he thought he had finally caught up with Arthur, his quarry would twist away, or the spectral fog-shapes would s.h.i.+ft again, and Blaine would be left grasping a fistful of air. As time went on, he grew more and more confused by what he was following, and why. It seemed endless, these loops through the mud, these spirals through the mist.

A woman was crying somewhere. The sound was m.u.f.fled and rhythmic, an almost mechanical keening, and was as familiar to him as- Blaine paused. The sobs were disorientating and made it even harder to concentrate. He moved on. But although the noise grew fainter, it seemed to him there was something he had forgotten, something he needed to do.

He found her lying beside a boggy pool. Her disheveled hair hung down over her face, and she was tearstained and exhausted. She looked at him blindly.

"I thought it was her. I followed her. I thought it was over, that everything was going to be all right. But it wasn't her at all. It was just a trick."

Blaine crouched beside her. Above them, the tattered clouds cleared to reveal the moon. It wasn't the mother-of-pearl disc from before: its face was pockmarked and yellow. The pale billows and iridescent sheen had evaporated, leaving marsh slime and reeds, and a damp sky. Blaine took her hands in his.

"I know," he said tiredly. "It's OK, Cat. Nothing's what we thought it was, but I'm here, and I'm real. We'll be OK."

BLAINE AND CAT SEARCHED for the others for a long time, but in the end they had to admit defeat. Although the fog had lifted, trails of vapor made it hard to see far ahead. Several times they slipped into pools where the mud sucked oozily, until at last they managed to reach higher, stonier ground. But though they called for Flora and Toby until their voices were hoa.r.s.e, n.o.body answered.

"Do you think they're ... safe?" Cat faltered.

"Toby's smarter than he looks, and Flora's tougher," Blaine said brusquely. "They'll be all right, wherever they are." He rubbed his eyes. "But I don't understand. The Priestess told us to start with the Eight of Cups. The guide-"

"There was never any guide," said Cat. She was angry, but mostly with herself. "It was a lie-I see that now. The Priestess always tells one lie in every prophecy."

Blaine swore. "G.o.d. Of course. You told us about it in the cafe."

"That's why I had to face the Minotaur the first time around-to find out which bit of the prophecy was dodgy. It's my fault. I forgot."

"We all did. And even if we hadn't, it wouldn't have done us much good. The Minotaur might've known when his sister was lying, but he wasn't around to ask, was he?"

"I guess." Cat looked down at her hands. "Blaine ... who did you think you saw? In the mists?"

"My stepdad."

"I saw my aunt. I-I thought it was my mum at first. That bit was like something from a dream. But Bel felt-acted-so real. Solid."

"Yeah. It's just the usual Arcanum mind-messing c.r.a.p."

Messy, but effective. The encounter with the phantom had stirred up fears Cat wasn't ready to admit to. I'm so sorry, Cat. I didn't mean for it to happen. I didn't know what I was getting into.... What had Bel got into, though? Cat was beginning to realize that there was a lot about her aunt that was still a mystery. Like the fact that Bel hadn't told her she'd lived in London before. It was the latest in a line of revelations, some big, some small, that nagged at the back of her mind. The way Bel had freaked out over the Tarot book was odd, too, almost as if ...

But, no, she was being ridiculous. Of course Bel didn't know anything about the Game that had caused the death of her sister and brother-in-law. If she had, there was no way she'd have joked about Misrule's scratchcards. "This triumph card gimmick," she'd called it, and laughed.

Blaine was right, Cat decided. The Arcanum was making her paranoid, and she had to resist it.

"All right. So what do we do next?" she asked.

They looked at each other somberly.

"We go on," he said, "and hunt down these four creatures from the prophecy. Just like Flora and Toby will be doing, wherever they are. And whether it takes four of us, or two, or one, somehow we'll find a way of making things right."

Cat nodded. No matter what dangers lay ahead, she was ready for them. Although the state she was in when Blaine found her-collapsed and weeping, helpless as a child-should have been the ultimate humiliation, somehow she wasn't embarra.s.sed. They were beyond that now.

"OK. Somewhere in the Arcanum, there's a bull, a lion, an eagle and a man. And the prophecy gave us clues to where we might find them."

"Right," said Blaine. "The man would be the knight in a tomb, presumably. Then the lion's the king of the beasts, and the bull must be the creature 'led in triumph by its horns.' What was the eagle again?"

"Something to do with empires."