'You do have him,' she said, stepping into the office.
Harry closed the door. There was a chill from up the stairs.
Thank God. Thank God.' She took Harry's face in her hands and kissed him lightly on the lips. Only then did she notice Valentin.
She dropped her hands.
'What's he doing here?' she asked.
'He's with me. With us.'
She looked doubtful. 'No,' she said.
'We can trust him.'
'I said no! Get him out, Harry.' There was a cold fury in her; she shook with it. 'Get him outl'
Valentin stared at her, glassy-eyed. 'The lady doth protest too much,' he murmured.
Dorothea put her fingers to her lips as if to stifle any further outburst. 'I'm sorry,' she said, turning back to Harry, 'but you must be told what this man is capable of-'
'Without him your husband would still be at the house, Mrs Swann,' Harry pointed out. 'He's the one you should be grateful to, not me.'
At this, Dorothea's expression softened, through bafflement to a new gentility.
'Oh?' she said. Now she looked back at Valentin. 'I'm sorry. When you ran from the house I assumed some complicity ...'
'With whom?' Valentin inquired.
She made a tiny shake of her head; then said, 'Your arm. Are you hurt?'
'A minor injury,' he returned.
'I've already tried to get it rebandaged,' Harry said. 'But the bastard's too stubborn.'
'Stubborn I am,' Valentin replied, without inflection,
'But we'll be finished here soon -' said Harry.
Valentin broke in. 'Don't tell her anything,' he snapped.
'I'm just going to explain about the brother-in-law -' Harry said.
The brother-in-law?' Dorothea said, sitting down. The sigh of her legs crossing was the most enchanting sound Harry had heard in twenty-four hours. 'Oh please tell me about the brother-in-law ...'
Before Harry could open his mouth to speak, Valentin said: 'It's not her, Harry.'
The words, spoken without a trace of drama, took a few seconds to make sense. Even when they did, their lunacy was self-evident. Here she was in the flesh, perfect in every detail.
'What are you talking about?' Harry said.
'How much more plainly can I say it?' Valentin replied. 'It's not her. It's a trick. An illusion. They know where we are, and they sent this up to spy out our defences.'
Harry would have laughed, but that these accusations were bringing tears to Dorothea's eyes.
'Stop it,' he told Valentin.
'No, Harry. You think for a moment. All the traps they've laid, all the beasts they've mustered. You suppose she could have escaped that?' He moved away from the window towards Dorothea. 'Where's Butterfield?' he spat. 'Down the hall, waiting for your signal?'
'Shut up,' said Harry.
'He's scared to come up here himself, isn't he?' Valentin went on. 'Scared of Swann, scared of us, probably, after what we did to his gelding.'
Dorothea looked at Harry. 'Make him stop,' she said.
Harry halted Valentin's advance with a hand on his bony chest.
'You heard the lady,' he said.
'That's no lady,' Valentin replied, his eyes blazing. 'I don't know what it is, but it's no lady.'
Dorothea stood up. 'I came here because I hoped I'd be safe,' she said.
'You are safe,' Harry said.
'Not with him around, I'm not,' she replied, looking back at Valentin. 'I think I'd be wiser going.'
Harry touched her arm.
'No,' he told her.
'Mr D'Amour,' she said sweetly, 'you've already earned your fee ten times over. Now I think it's time / took responsibility for my husband.'
Harry scanned that mercurial face. There wasn't a trace of deception in it.
'I have a car downstairs,' she said. 'I wonder... could you carry him downstairs for me?'
Harry heard a noise like a cornered dog behind him and turned to see Valentin standing beside Swann's corpse. He had picked up the heavy-duty cigarette lighter from the desk, and was flicking it. Sparks came, but no flame.
'What the hell are you doing?' Harry demanded.
Valentin didn't look at the speaker, but at Dorothea.
'She knows,' he said.
He had got the knack of the lighter; the flame flared up.
Dorothea made a small, desperate sound.
'Please don't,' she said.
'We'll all burn with him if necessary,' Valentin said.
'He's insane,' Dorothea's tears had suddenly gone.
'She's right,' Harry told Valentin, 'you're acting like a madman.'
'And you're a fool to fall for a few tears!' came the reply. 'Can't you see that if she takes him we've lost everything we've fought for?'
'Don't listen,' she murmured. 'You know me, Harry. You trust me.'
'What's under that face of yours?' Valentin said. 'What are you? A Coprolite? Homunculus?'
The names meant nothing to Harry. All he knew was the proximity of the woman at her side; her hand laid upon his arm.
'And what about you?' she said to Valentin. Then, more softly, 'why don't you show us your wound?'
She forsook the shelter of Harry's side, and crossed to the desk. The lighter flame guttered at her approach.
'Go on...' she said, her voice no louder than a breath. '... I dare you.'
She glanced round at Harry. 'Ask him, D'Amour,' she said. 'Ask him to show you what he's got hidden under the bandages.'
'What's she talking about?' Harry asked. The glimmer of trepidation in Valentin's eyes was enough to convince Harry there was merit in Dorothea's request. 'Explain,' he said.
Valentin didn't get the chance however. Distracted by Harry's demand he was easy prey when Dorothea reached across the desk and knocked the lighter from his hand. He bent to retrieve it, but she seized on the ad hoc bundle of bandaging and pulled. It tore, and fell away.
She stepped back. 'See?' she said.
Valentin stood revealed. The creature on 83rd Street had torn the sham of humanity from his arm; the limb beneath was a mass of blue-black scales. Each digit of the blistered hand ended in a nail that opened and closed like a parrot's beak. He made no attempt to conceal the truth. Shame eclipsed every other response.
'I warned you,' she said, 'I warned you he wasn't to be trusted.'
Valentin stared at Harry. 'I have no excuses,' he said. 'I only ask you to believe that I want what's best for Swann.'
'How can you?' Dorothea said. 'You're a demon.'
'More than that,' Valentin replied, 'I'm Swann's Tempter. His familiar; his creature. But I belong to him more than I ever belonged to the Gulfs. And I will defy them -' he looked at Dorothea, '- and their agents.'
She turned to Harry. 'You have a gun,' she said. 'Shoot the filth. You mustn't suffer a thing like that to live.'
Harry looked at the pustulent arm; at the clacking fingernails: what further repugnance was there in wait behind the flesh facade?
'Shoot it,' the woman said.
He took his gun from his pocket. Valentin seemed to have shrunk in the moments since the revelation of his true nature. Now he leaned against the wall, his face slimy with despair.
'Kill me then,' he said to Harry, 'kill me if I revolt you so much. But Harry, I beg you, don't give Swann to her. Promise me that. Wait for the driver to come back, and dispose of the body by whatever means you can. Just don't give it to her!'
'Don't listen,' Dorothea said. 'He doesn't care about Swann the way I do.'
Harry raised the gun. Even looking straight at death, Valentin did not flinch.
'You've failed, Judas,' she said to Valentin. 'The magician's mine.'
'What magician?' said Harry.
'Why Swann, of course!' she replied lightly. 'How many magicians have you got up here?'
Harry dropped his bead on Valentin.
'He's an illusionist,' he said, 'you told me that at the very beginning. Never call him a magician, you said.'