A muscle leapt along his jaw.
“Keeping trying,” Reg urged. “I don’t know how, but you’re getting through.”
Now Bibbie framed Gerald’s face between her hands. “I can’t break your hexes, Gerald,” she whispered. “Not any more. And I can’t reach Monk. Please. You have to fight, you have to help me, because if you don’t-”
They all heard it. The clatter, bang and scrape as a piece of discarded tin was kicked across the cracked and broken cobbles of dirty Voblinz Lane. And then they saw, shadow-like and back-lit, the indistinct figures of two men standing motionless at the lane’s southern end.
Fear, cold and curdling. Dermit and Volker. It was to be. Melissande lifted her chin. “Well, they’ve certainly taken their time. They must have strolled here. I’ll bet they’ve not even broken a sweat. If I were Norbert, I’d be docking their pay.”
“Right,” said Reg, and fluffed up her feathers. “You two hoydens sit tight with Gerald, while I go and-”
“No, Reg,” said Bibbie. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Reg chattered her beak. “I beg your pardon, ducky? I don’t recall making you the captain of me!”
Bibbie leapt to her feet and looked down at the bird. “If that is Dermit and Volker, Reg, then they strolled here because they didn’t need to run. They knew where to find us. Last time they brought a blood magic hex. There’s no saying what they’ve got in their pockets this time.”
“All the more reason for me to flap on down there and take a look!” said Reg. “Because you can’t go and wag your finger at them for being naughty!”
Bibbie smiled. “Actually, I think I can.”
“No, you bloody well can’t! Those buggers are dangerous!”
“True,” she admitted. “But as you pointed out, Reg? I’m Emmerabiblia Markham. In fact…” She snapped her fingers. The illusion of Gladys Slack wavered, then vanished. In the gloomy light, her hair gleamed a bright gold. “There. That’s better.”
Melissande bit her lip. “I don’t know, Bibbie. Is that a good idea? Sir Alec did stress how important it is for you to-”
Bibbie’s glance was scornful. “D’you really think that matters now? Anyway…” Another smile, this time with edges. “I want those bastards to see the real me. I want them to know exactly who they crossed tonight.”
It was no good. She couldn’t argue on her knees. Standing, she reached out an imploring hand. “Please don’t, Bibbie. If anything happens to you, what do I tell Gerald? What do I tell Monk?”
Bibbie pointed to the end of the alley, and the shadow figures standing there who still hadn’t moved. “What d’you want to do, Mel? Wait for them to make the first move? Or would you rather cross your fingers that Splotze’s ridiculous etheretics will miraculously clear in the next three minutes, and a team of Sir Alec’s janitors will come galloping to our rescue?”
Dammit. The girl was impossible. Melissande turned to Reg. “Well? Are you just going to sit there?”
“No,” said Reg. “I’m going to give Gerald my moral support.”
“Oh!” She could slap the damn bird. “Bibbie-”
“Don’t bother, Melissande. I’ve made up my mind.” Looking like an ice maiden, Bibbie stared down at Gerald. “If this goes pear-shaped for me, and he pulls through, tell him… tell him…” Eyes glittering, her chin tilted defiantly. “Tell him to tell Monk that if he doesn’t put an end to this bloody blackmarket wizard, once and for all, then I shall come back and haunt him for the rest of his life!”
“Well, well,” said Reg, as Bibbie walked away. “And here’s me thinking your Miss Markham and the other one have bugger all in common.” A snort. “She set the palace on fire, I s’pose?”
Melissande clutched her hands together, so they couldn’t tremble. “I don’t think she meant to.”
“No,” said Reg, very pensive. “Her sort never do.”
There was just enough light at the southern end of Voblinz Lane for her to see Dermit and Volker’s arrogant assurance fade to confusion as she approached.
“Good evening, gentlemen. Are you lost?”
Norbert’s henchmen exchanged unsettled glances, then Dermit folded his arms. Such a manly man. Urrggh. To think that she’d simpered at him. And as for Volker, he was looking at her in the way some men did. Here’s a pretty piece of crumpet. His gaze kept dragging chest-wards as though she had a magnet in her dress.
“Who are you?” Dermit demanded, so arrogant.
Bibbie smiled. “A friend of Gladys Slack’s. You might as well know, she’s told me everything. Well… almost everything. I am rather curious about Leopold Gertz. How much did you have to pay him, to poison the wizard?”
He blinked. “What do you know of Gertz? And poisoning?”
“I told you.” Bibbie held up crossed fingers. “Gladys and me? We’re like that.”
“We paid him nothing,” said Volker. Now he was undressing her with his eyes. “Gertz is a crackpot Splotze patriot. He did it for Crown Prince and Country.”
Ah, Bibbie thought. So they have come to kill. Nobody answers awkward questions unless they think what they say will never be repeated.
Funnily enough, it felt rather liberating, staring into the faces of the two men she and Gerald had managed to thwart at every turn. Who mistakenly thought they were going to kill her. And Gerald. And Melissande. Yes. Definitely liberating… and exhilarating.
But then Mother does say I have no proper sense of decorum.
“The wizard,” said Dermit. “Is he dead yet?”
“Not even a little bit,” she said cheerfully. “But you did give it your best try and, after all, that’s what matters, isn’t it? Anyway, gentlemen, here’s what I really can’t fathom. Were you or were you not working fist-in-glove with the Lanruvians? Because everyone I know says they’re right proper villains, but then they tried to stop the landslide at the bridge. So which is it, Dermit? Are they friend or foe?”
Volker’s scarred face tightened. “I do not like this, Dermit. The girl knows too much.”
“She does.” Expression menacing, right hand hovering near his pocket, Dermit took a step forward. “ Who are you?”
Bibbie sighed. “Oh, all right then, if you must know.”
Snap, snap, went her fingers. Gladys Slack appeared, then vanished.
As the men gaped at her, momentarily stunned to frozen silence, she tried to read what was in Dermit’s pocket. But she wasn’t Gerald. Their hexes could hide from her. Damn. Still, it was safe to say their commissioned thaumaturgics would be hazardous to her health.
And Gerald’s, and Melissande’s, and Reg’s too. Probably. I can’t let this drag on much longer.
Dermit recovered first. “You are a foreign agent? But you cannot be. Women are not agents!”
“That’s true,” she said, shrugging. “At the moment. But times change. Ah-Lanruvia?”
“Who do you work for?” said Volker, his eyes narrowed.
“Myself, actually.”
Dermit sneered. “A lie.”
“No, it isn’t,” she said, feigning indignation, keeping an eye on his hand, so close to his pocket. Of the two men, he was by far the more dangerous. “Lanruvia.”
“Enough of this,” said Dermit. “It does not matter who you are, girl, or who has sent you.” He jerked his chin towards the other end of the lane. “We are here for the wizard.”
She let her teeth show, just a little. “He isn’t for sale.”
“Stupid girl!” Volker shouted. “You know what we can do!”
“I’ve a fair idea, yes,” said Bibbie, watching Dermit’s fingers slide into his pocket. “But here’s the thing, gentlemen. That Gladys Slack trick I showed you? I know a better one. Look!”
Her hands came up. Fisted. Then she spat the words no-one, not even Monk, knew that she knew.
Bern Dermit and Grune Volker dropped dead at her feet.
Oh, she thought, staring down at them. That was… easier than I expected.
There were feelings, somewhere. She didn’t have time to feel them now. After emptying her would-be slayers’ pockets, she returned to Gerald and the girls. Met Melissande’s shocked stare with a small, complicated smile.