Nightmare

87

‘Are you happy now, Nightingale? Is that what you wanted? An eternity of nothingness?’

Nightingale didn’t recognise the voice, but then strictly speaking there was no voice to recognise. He didn’t actually hear the words; they were simply there.

‘Who is that?’ said Nightingale, except that he didn’t say anything. It wasn’t even a thought, truth be told. Just a feeling, a vibration in the nothingness that was the Nowhen.

There was a flash of light and then he was standing on a windswept cliff looking out over an ocean; the waves were flecked with white froth and dark storm clouds were gathering overhead.

‘Your soul was supposed to be mine, Nightingale. Mine to do with as I want.’

Nightingale turned round. It was Lucifuge Rofocale, wearing his crimson jacket with gold buttons and gleaming black jodhpurs. He was holding a black riding crop and he swished it from side to side as he glared up at Nightingale with blood-red eyes.

‘I know that,’ said Nightingale. ‘We had a deal. This has nothing to do with me.’

‘You never said you were going to kill yourself for the girl.’

‘That’s not what happened,’ said Nightingale. ‘I wanted to save her. And I did.’

Lucifuge Rofocale stamped his foot. ‘You sacrificed yourself for her and now look what’s happened.’ He raised the riding crop as if he was about to strike Nightingale across the face and sneered when he saw Nightingale flinch.

Nightingale raised his hands to protect his face. ‘It wasn’t planned,’ he said.

‘Planned or not you’ve screwed everything up.’

‘So take my soul and have done with it,’ said Nightingale. ‘I don’t care any more.’

‘Don’t you understand? It’s not my decision any longer. It’s out of my hands.’

‘This isn’t my fault,’ said Nightingale. ‘We had a deal. You kept your end of the bargain and I did what I had to do. I had no idea it was going to end up like this.’ He looked out across the sea. ‘Whatever “this” is. I still don’t understand what’s happening.’

Lucifuge Rofocale glared at Nightingale. ‘This was what you intended all along,’ he growled. ‘You tricked me.’

‘I didn’t,’ said Nightingale.

‘You knew that if you went back and died to save the girl then all bets would be off.’

‘I’m not as smart as that. I just did what I had to do.’ He patted his pockets, looking for his pack of Marlboro.

Lucifuge Rofocale cackled and waved his crop, and a lit cigarette appeared between the index and second fingers of Nightingale’s right hand.

Nightingale stared at the cigarette in disbelief, then raised it to his mouth and inhaled gratefully.

‘I don’t know what’s going to happen, Nightingale. I don’t know who’s going to get your soul. But I know one thing as surely as if it was carved in stone. I will make your life, or what passes for your life, a misery for all eternity.’

Nightingale blew smoke. ‘Sticks and stones,’ he said.

Lucifuge Rofocale roared and shimmered and there was a loud crack and a rancid stench, then something huge and scaly loomed over Nightingale. A massive claw whipped out, just missing his stomach but ripping through his sleeve. The monster’s jaws opened and Nightingale saw rows of sharp teeth and a forked tongue covered in purple scales, and then a wave of foul-smelling smoke washed over him.

‘Like I said, sticks and stones,’ said Nightingale. ‘This place doesn’t exist. I’m in the Nowhen. Neither here nor there. So there’s nothing you can do to hurt me.’ He stared up at the monster, his eyes watering from its sulphurous breath. ‘If I’m wrong, do whatever you want and do it now because I’m past caring.’

The monster roared and a cloud of yellow smoke engulfed Nightingale. The giant claw lashed out again, missing his face by inches, but Nightingale grinned because he knew he was right.

‘Screw you,’ he said, and turned his back on Lucifuge Rofocale. ‘I’ll see you in Hell. Or not.’

Everything went white again and Nightingale was alone.

Time passed.

Or didn’t.