The Bone Triangle (38 page)

I felt like a fool. Perhaps I was too far inside Meng’s domain. Or perhaps Gutter Jim had better things to do than speak with me. I put a hand on the door handle, then chanced to look down. There, at the center of the floor, was a stained brass drain.

I shrugged and thought I might as well give it a try. I plugged the drain in the sink and filled it. Soon, the water was lapping over the top and spilling onto the floor.

Once the water flowed down to the drain, I squatted there. I watched it flow into the dark regions under the earth. Gutter Jim had made me more aware of that part of my daily world than I’d ever been before.

The water flowed and flowed. “Jim,” I said. “This is your last chance to talk to me. I’ve got information about Meng I’d like to share with you.”

I heard something. A sudden gurgling—not words, but more than the normal pouring sounds.

“What?” I asked. “I didn’t catch that.”

“You’ll not trick me again so easily, rogue,” I heard a voice say. It sounded like someone with a lungful of liquid.

I smiled. “Don’t you want to know what Meng has to say for herself?”

“You can’t possibly be so naïve as to listen to that witch again. I would laugh at anyone who suggested you were capable of such stupidity.”

“She says the Beast is not hers. She does not know who released it here.”

There was a silence for several long moments. Then I heard a rush, and a surge of water came up the drain. It bubbled like a tiny fountain, but didn’t spray into the room. I stood up and pressed my back against the door. I didn’t want to stray into his domain. I knew I stood at the very border now, half in Meng’s reach and half in his. An intersection of domains had to be a very dangerous place to be.

The fountain of water formed, reminding me of a broken sprinkler in the yard. When the fountain was about a foot high, it spoke to me.

“She lies. She must have summoned this Beast. Why else has she gathered people to speak to it? Why does she pester it with her entreaties, night and day? She instructs it, the Beast is her pet, her servant.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “I’ve seen several things that make me believe the Beast is intelligent and independent.” I told him of the book that wrote itself, of the Beast’s name, and about the consumed scribes.

The fountain laughed. “You believe these stories?”

“I have to admit, I’ve been highly skeptical. But I’ve seen evidence, and I don’t know why else Meng would talk to me, rather than try to kill me. She knows I came here for her, but she hasn’t sent her servants after me yet.”

“Do you trust her? What of Cartoon, your friend? I found scraps of his carcass in the passage. If she didn’t goad the Beast into devouring him, who did?”

“Maybe you did that. You led us into that tunnel, and you could have baited the Beast in behind us, promising easy game.”

Gutter Jim thought that one over for a moment. “As good a theory as any, from your point of view. But it isn’t accurate. I don’t have control over the Beast. The best you or I have managed to do is entice it to an area the size of a city block. Besides, if I had such tight control over it, I would never have bothered to enlist your aid to kill it.”

“I thought of that,” I said. “Maybe we’ve all been too busy suspecting one another of mastering the Beast. Maybe it is its
own
master, and we need to work together to kill it.”

“I want nothing more. But remember our bargain, rogue. You are to give me the Beast’s domain after defeating it.”

“And why should I do that?”

“A man’s word is his bond. Without it, he is nothing more than a base, lying animal.”

I laughed. “In that case, let me remind you which of us lied his ass off until I pinned him down and demanded some straight facts.”

“Let’s not remember that—ever.”

“Fine. But will you help me when the time comes?”

“I already have helped you. Just remember what I want from the bargain.”

“I don’t know if I’ll have the power to grant you a new domain, but we’ll see.”

Grumbling, the fountain bubbled lower and vanished. The water receded, draining away. The concrete floor was left dark, and the base of the tile walls was speckled with shining droplets.

I left the bathroom and walked out into the hallway. The place was quiet now. I no longer heard any sounds from the
classroom. Neither Gilling’s ringing voice nor the natural sounds a group of people makes while scribbling. I wondered what had happened.

I checked every door on the level, but they were all sealed. I looked back toward the only other door that opened—the one that led to the classroom. I began to feel as if I was in a trap and the jaws were slowly clamping shut.

Still maintaining my state of invisibility, I walked down the hall to the classroom again. The people at their desks had finished scribbling and sat quietly. Two people stood at the head of the class. They stood in front of the chalkboard but slightly to one side. One of them was a woman whom I knew all too well. I aimed my weapon at her and stepped quietly into the room.

The room itself looked similar but not quite the same. The school desks had been shoved aside, and the parchment scrolls had been crushed flat in a pattern in front of the board. I eyed this, frowning. It looked like everyone in the class had gotten up at once and marched forward, pushing the desks and trampling the scrolls.

“You are a rude guest, Quentin,” Meng said, looking right at me.

I turned my gaze to Gilling. He did not notice me. There was something not quite right about him. He looked like a doll that had lost part of its stuffing. His shoulders were hunched, and he was squinting. He’d grown a wispy blond mustache on his thin face since I’d seen him last—this was a surprise. It had been only a few days.

“Gilling?” I asked. “Are you all right?”

He stumbled a step forward when he heard my voice. I saw something flash in Meng’s hand, something that caused a bright gleam of light to shine through her fingers. Seemingly in response, Gilling gained renewed vigor. He
stood up straighter and steepled his fingers, which caused his numerous rings to glitter. I noticed that unlike the others, he wasn’t wearing gloves. I also noted that the pinky finger of his left hand was missing.

“Draith?” he asked. “Have the decency to show yourself.”

I willed the candy cane’s power to fade. I appeared, standing in front of them.

“That’s a new trick,” Meng said, smiling. “But you’ll need more than tricks to frighten me in my own domain.”

I was thinking hard, my mind racing. I knew Meng wouldn’t dare to face me like this unless she had all the cards—or at least
believed
that she did. The first time I could recall meeting her, she’d smiled while I waved a gun around, as she’d known I was conditioned not to use it against her. Perhaps that was the source of her confidence now. I still could not attack her directly. If I could have, I would have burned her down the moment I walked into the classroom.

She appeared confident but not completely calm. Her fingers rubbed at the object in her hands obsessively. She knew I’d managed to best her the last time we met. She’d taken a bullet and nearly died.

From her behavior, however, I had to assume she had some tricks of her own in reserve. Perhaps she wished to make sure she was in control before springing them on me. She didn’t want any surprises, and neither did I.

I decided it was best to bluff and simulate calm. Accordingly, I painted on a big smile. I endeavored to look cautious but confident.

“I’m here to talk about the Beast,” I said in a tone McKesson might use when questioning a witness.

“Insolence so grand,” she said, as if she wasn’t listening to me. “Do you know what happened here, Draith?
You like to investigate strange phenomena. Use your skills on this scene. Was there a crime performed? Should I be arrested?”

I hesitated, then decided to play her game. There might be information at the end of it as a reward for me. “Your pathetic puppets scrawled nonsense on these scrolls due to delusions planted in their minds. The process was doubtlessly similar to that which you employed to enslave poor Gilling here.”

“Rudely but succinctly put. I must point out, however, that your statements have done nothing to solve the mystery. Where did the scribes go?”

I frowned slightly. “I don’t know…down into the pump house below, where I came from?”

She shook her head slightly. Her expression was grim.

“You tell me then,” I said. “Perhaps you whisked them all upstairs. You had a secret door in your office. Maybe they are all up there, enjoying the booze you keep in your desk drawer for the bad nights.”

“What bad nights?”

“The nights where you worry in your tower, fearful of my return to your domain.”

Meng laughed at me then, as I knew she would. She didn’t want to appear fearful of me. I stared at her with a quiet smile the entire time. I knew I
did
worry her, and that worry ate at her. When she was done appearing amused, I spoke again.

“I’ve been to Mercury, you know. I’ve met people there—people who know us both.”

For the very first time, I saw her smile fade. It didn’t quite turn into a frown, but I could tell she wasn’t happy.

“There’s no one left out there,” she said.

I hefted the bottle and smiled. “I wouldn’t say that.”

She eyed the bottle, and I saw her face draw tight. Lines showed around her eyes, and I wondered just how old she was.

“That’s Trujillo’s bottle,” she said. “You’ve met him?”

“He told me about you, and my parents. I know who I am now. More importantly, I know who
you
are.”

Meng’s tongue touched her lips. “Is that why you’ve come back here?”

“Tell me, Dr. Meng, where did you find your most prized possession? Who drove that car with that flashy hood ornament of yours? I’ve done a little research over recent months. From what I can tell, that ornament comes from a nineteen twenties Rolls Royce. Do you know who drove such a car?”

Her lips pursed in annoyance. “Dr. Oppenheimer,” she said quietly.

“Yes. I thought you would know. Did he ever understand the power the ornament held? Or did you simply steal it from him, without his ever having known what it could do?”

Meng hesitated. In her eyes, I could see she was remembering. “We had a special relationship. Those were strange days—I was much younger then. I wasn’t a scientist at the time, you have to understand. I was a computer.”

I blinked at her. “A what?”

“A computer. Before World War II, child, computers were people. It was a job description. The US didn’t develop electronic computers until the last days of the war. But many complex calculations had to be done. The professors often used students—mostly women—to do their grunt math work for them. Only women were available to do the calculations, as the men were all in uniform at that time.”

As she spoke, I tried again to guess her age. Could she truly be a contemporary of Oppenheimer’s? Not even
Trujillo was that ancient. If her claims were true, and she was a college girl during World War II, she had to be ninety years old. Perhaps older. But she didn’t look more than forty, tops.

“I know it’s rude to ask a lady’s age…” I said. “But this is a special case.”

She ignored my question for a moment, then dropped her eyes to the ornament in her hand. “The artifacts often have side effects. Cruel ones, at times. Mine is no different.”

“So it extends your life?”

“Only while I’m in my domain.”

I thought about that. “Do you mean that if you left the sanatorium, you would become your real age?”

She inclined her head slightly. “I’ve done so in the past, but no longer.”

I understood immediately why she never left this place. She’d become increasingly reclusive for a good reason. Soon, she wouldn’t be able to step outside the walls of her fortress at all without dying. I wondered if she might try it someday, after being driven mad by boredom. Perhaps fifty years from now, she would walk outside, feel the sun shine in her face one more time, then suddenly decay on the streets.

“At first,” she said, “I thought it was wonderful. As long as I stayed here, I never aged. But now, it’s become a curse. Sunset is my prison, and you can’t know how tiresome it is to me.”

I nodded thoughtfully. The sanatorium was a gloomy place at best.

“My next question is predictable,” I said. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I want your help.”

I didn’t know what to make of Dr. Meng and her new attitude. I’d come here to kill her, and she seemed to know that. In fact, I believed now that she had tried to engage my wrath to draw me in.

“What do you mean, you want my help?” I asked. “You sent assassins after me!”

She shrugged. “They were weak. You bested them, and thus proved yourself capable in my eyes. If they had killed you, I would have known you were an unworthy ally. As a side benefit, the attacks drew your interest and brought you to this room.”

I wasn’t sure if I should feel flattered or not. I certainly didn’t like her use of people as tools. She burned through their lives heartlessly.

“You could have just sent me a note.”