Kill Fish Jones (32 page)

Fish was worn out and he ached to the bone, but the sun on his back was warm and the air was clear and sweet. When they finally got going he felt light-headed with relief and a sense of freedom. They walked slowly, Fish leaning on Alice. As they reached the crest of the hill, the moor was laid before them, bright in the sun. In the distance they could see Crow's Cottage and the long strip of road winding past it. On the road was a taxi. It
slowed down as it drew closer to the house, and then it stopped.

‘It's too early for it to be my mum,' said Alice. ‘She'll still be on the way.'

The taxi stood for a long moment before the door opened and the driver got out. He pulled open the passenger door and helped someone climb down. Then he got back in, slammed the door and drove away. The person left standing on the road turned to study the cottage. Fish gasped. Then he began to move in a limping run, his weariness and pains forgotten. Alice let him go on. She stayed where she was, watching the new arrival organise her crutches and begin to hobble up the pathway. The limping figure of Fish made it to the foot of the hill and began to run in earnest, calling out so that Susan heard him, stopped at the cottage door and turned to wait.

Alice lingered until Fish reached his mother. Then she took in a deep breath of heather-scented air, felt the sun on her face once more and set off down the hill to join them.

Grimshaw squinted into the light. He was flying. Or at least something was carrying him through the air. It was strange because a moment ago he had been falling into a pit of fire and darkness, feeling the skin burn away from his bones.

‘Is that you, Flute? Or one of your sisters?'

‘Not the Sisters,' answered a voice calmly.

The world spun for a moment and he landed on his paws on soft grass. He looked up to see what had been carrying him and stared into the eyes of one of the Pomp. He frowned, puzzled.

‘I'm only an Avatar. I can't be dead like a human is dead, right?'

‘Right.'

Grimshaw flicked his ears anxiously.

The Pomp sighed. ‘Unless …'

‘Yes, what is it?'

‘Every half-life carries a seed. And sometimes, though rarely, that seed grows. And if it does, then the half-life
gets to be a proper life. And if it is a real life, then it can have a real death.'

Grimshaw screwed up his forehead. ‘Sorry? I don't think I understand. I'm only a very small curse.'

‘No half-life is too small,' said the Pomp. Its light-in-light eyes watched him thoughtfully from its shining face.

‘That can't be right. I mean …'

‘But if you gave up your half-life and yet you are still here, then it must be right.'

Grimshaw thought about it for a moment. He couldn't deny that this was true and yet …

But he was still here. There was no denying it. He gave up the fight and looked around instead. The Pomp had dropped him on a mountainside where small flowers bobbed in a warm breeze. On his left, the mountain fell away in a steep cliff that plummeted down to a sea as blue as a sapphire. Beyond the sea and stretching to the far horizon he could see the green, gold and purple sweep of the land as it rose and fell in forests and heaths and heather-clad hills. The cliff was so high that between the land and the top of the mountain hung a single ribbon of white cloud.

‘It's beautiful.' Grimshaw felt pride swell in his heart. ‘Are the monkeys all right? And the leopards? And is the cathedral cavern still there? And what about the monster?' He paused for a second, then went on. ‘And the people? All the noble humans? Like the boy and Susan Jones. Are they all right?'

‘They are all just fine.'

With a sigh, Grimshaw went back to the view. Until it struck him that there was something wrong. Something was missing. He couldn't see a single town or city.

‘If they are all right, where are they then?'

‘They are where they are meant to be. The world is still going on, it's just doing it somewhere else. You are dead, remember.'

Grimshaw rubbed a paw over his ears. ‘So … where am I?'

‘Limbo,' replied the Pomp.

Grimshaw's ugly face wrinkled up in his effort to understand.

The Pomp took pity on him. ‘Limbo is not just the place where the half-alive and half-dead live. It's also a gateway, see? Or we should say
gateways
, since there are two of them.' The Pomp laughed softly. ‘We have to say, though, for a while there we weren't sure which one you would choose. Up or down.' She smiled at him and then went on, ‘But the real thing you have to understand about Limbo is that what you see around you depends on how you look at it. And now you are seeing what is really there, not just what you think you see.'

Grimshaw gazed up at her. ‘It might not be the Earth, but it's still
wonderful
! Do you see it like this all the time?'

‘Oh yes. And the Sisters too. And probably the Horsemen, though we don't think anyone has ever asked them.'

Grimshaw flipped his ears thoughtfully, trying to work it all out.

‘It's funny, really. If I hadn't wanted to be a great and terrifying demon, then I wouldn't have wanted so much to kill the boy. And if I hadn't wanted to kill the boy, I would never have woken up the Mighty Curse. But, if I hadn't tried to find the Curse in order to kill the world, in order to kill the boy too, then I wouldn't have
seen
the world and everything in it. And then I wouldn't have understood right at the final moment exactly how … how …
wonderful
it was and I wouldn't have saved it.' He thought for a moment longer. ‘It does my head in, actually.'

‘We can see why.'

‘And you know what? The dumb thing is that I had what I was trying to get all along. To Fish Jones, I
was
terrifying!' Grimshaw sighed and shook his ears. ‘But what I don't get is the boy. I thought that he had a destiny – more than one, in fact. And if so, then surely one would be saving the world from me trying to kill him! But he could
never
have got there in time. I'm glad he's not dead though. He …' Grimshaw fell silent.

‘Yes?'

‘He was the only one who ever took me seriously.' Grimshaw flipped his ears again. ‘I thought I hated him, but you know I kind of liked him too.'

His eyes roamed over the landscape again, completely missing the darkness that lay deep beneath the surface of the blue sea. ‘Gateways?' he asked a moment later,
catching up with the Pomp's earlier explanation. Then he looked upwards. He gasped. The top of the mountain was not the top. The usual layer of misty cloud that lay over Limbo like a ceiling had gone and at last he could see what was there. The mountain went on rising into the brilliant sky, much higher and further than he had thought. His corner-to-corner black eyes went large.

‘The way won't be easy,' said the Pomp. ‘There are … mitigating circumstances for most of the things you did. After all, you were simply your Architect's tool for all those lives that were forfeit under the curse. It is not you who will be judged for that. But for one particular thing there is no excuse at all.'

‘Steve Moore,' said Grimshaw, almost without thinking. ‘The man in the truck. He was an Innocent Bystander.'

The Pomp smiled. ‘You found out his name? That's a good start. But now you are growing a soul you will be expected to atone for his death.'

‘How?'

‘Oh, we don't know that, we're just a Pomp. I expect there will be a task for you to do, and don't think it will be easy. Still, you'll find out, all in good time.'

Grimshaw was busy staring up the slope towards the light. The light that now had nothing in between him and it at all. He swallowed.

‘Can I … um … ?'

‘If you can see the way, then you can go there.'

‘Thank you.' Grimshaw shook his head. ‘It's all
beyond me really, but it must be all right if you say so.' He began to struggle out of his backpack. ‘And I don't understand about the boy and his destiny at all. I mean, if I saved the world, then what did he save?' He dumped the backpack on the rocks and laid his notebook and pencil tidily on top.

‘You,' said the Pomp, and disappeared.

But Grimshaw didn't hear her. He had already turned his face to the brightest of days and set off on the long climb ahead.