Wizard squared

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Me?” Gerald stepped back. “Ah-no. No, I don’t think so. For one thing I don’t have a clue what he’s-your Monk’s-working on, and for another-you may have completely abandoned your principles, Gerald, but I haven’t.”

“Oh,” said the other Gerald. “D’you know, Professor, that hurts. I mean, you abandoned them for Lional.”

“I did,” he said steadily. “To my everlasting shame.”

“Everlasting shame? ” The other Gerald raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because it looks to me like you got over it all right. So what’s the problem?”

“That,” he said, “is a bloody stupid question, and you know it.”

“What I know, Professor,” said the other Gerald, prowling towards him, “is that Ottosland is on the brink of attack. Your country, your countrymen, are in terrible peril. If you don’t help me then the blood of countless innocents will run in the streets.”

“Not because of anything I’ve done,” he retorted. “From what I can tell, Gerald, you started this fight. And you can finish it by standing down. Besides. This isn’t my country.”

Halting, his counterpart smiled. “Well, if we’re going to talk about saying stupid things, Professor, you’d win a prize for that fatuous statement. You can’t fool me. You care. You care too much. It’s always been your greatest flaw.”

“I prefer to think of it as my saving grace.”

The other Gerald shrugged. “If I had time for semantics, Professor, I’d happily argue the point. But I don’t. So here’s the thing. I didn’t risk a temporal-dimensional implosion and give myself a skull-shattering headache bringing you here just so you could stand around carping at me like that bloody bird. I risked those things to make sure my plans come to fruition. You are going to help me. You aren’t going to argue. Because if you refuse to cooperate not only will your precious bloody Melissande get the chop, she’ll just be one of many victims you can chalk up to your short-sighted, sanctimonious pig-headed lack of cooperation.”

“Gerald!” said the other Monk, his voice rough. Close to breaking. “Please. Do what he says. He really will kill Melissande. And I love her, mate. She’s the only woman I’ll ever love. I’m begging you, Gerald. Don’t let her die.”

Oh, God. “I’m sorry,” he said at last, and made himself look at the stranger wearing Monk’s face. “But if your Melissande’s anything like mine, she wouldn’t want to be used like this. Whatever that machine is you’re making for this bastard? It’s not good, Monk. It’s going to hurt a lot of people. And I swore after Lional I’d never capitulate again. No matter what was done to me. No matter what was threatened.”

As the other Monk turned away, distraught, and Bibbie groaned, so sarcastic, the other Gerald laughed and sauntered to the birdcage. “How tediously bloody noble of you, Professor. I swear, I’m crying. Well, I’m crying on the inside. But that’s only so I don’t have to heave. Saint Snodgrass’s bunions! What a dreary pillock you’ve turned out to be!” A finger snap, and Reg’s hexed cage door sprang open. “And how bloody glad am I that I didn’t listen to this bitch’s nagging and face down Lional without some extra ammunition.” In a blur of motion he reached into the cage and snatched the other Reg out of it. Held her up by the throat, wings dangling, eyes rolling. “So how noble are you really, Professor?” he taunted. “Noble enough to watch me break the bird’s neck like a twig?”

“No, don’t hurt her!” the other Monk shouted, terrified. “Please, Gerald-don’t let him-God, you can’t-you can’t- ”

But he had to. He had to make a stand. Make it clear to his mad other self that no matter what there’d be no cooperation. He closed his eyes. This wasn’t his Reg, but even so…

I’m sorry.

A stir in the ether and an agonized, strangled shout. And then, despite his cruel shadbolt, the other Monk was lashing out, tossing obfuscation incants and slippy-finger hexes and anything else he could think of to make the other Gerald let go.

For all the good it did, he might as well have been spitting.

Laughing, the other Gerald deflected the thaumaturgical attack and retaliated with a brutal strike of his own. The other Monk hit the lab’s low ceiling then dropped to the floor with bone-rattling force. Shrieking, Bibbie threw herself under the nearest table. Captive Reg flapped her wings desperately, struggling to get free. And Monk-the other Monk The other Monk staggered to his feet, lurched around his lab bench and came straight for him, a mad light in his eyes. “You bastard! Bastard! Let Melissande die, would you? Let Reg die? Not while I’m still breathing, sunshine!”

The last thing he wanted to do was hurt this other Monk. He tried to dodge but the lab was crowded with benches and equipment. There was nowhere to run. As the man who looked like his best friend crashed him to the floor he caught a glimpse of the other Gerald laughing as he shoved his Reg back in the cage.

Panting, the other Monk grabbed him by the hair and thudded his head onto the concrete. “I don’t know you! I don’t know you! ”

“Markham-you idiot-get off me!” he grunted. “I don’t want to hurt you but I will if you don’t stop!”

“Hurt me?” shouted the other Monk. “As if you bloody could!”

So he lunged upright, using fists and elbows and knees to fight free. But this other Monk was desperate. Red-faced and sweating, he crushed him close in a suffocating bear hug.

And then that horribly familiar voice was whispering frantically in his ear.

“Bloody hell, Gerald, it’s me. The real me. Play along with him, for God’s sake. I’ve got a way out.”

Stunned, he went limp, as though the assault had overwhelmed him. Monk shoved him to one side and found his feet. Turned on the other Gerald, sucking great rasping mouthfuls of air into his lungs.

“I’ll make him help you! I swear it, all right? I’ll make him do whatever you want, Gerald. Just don’t hurt Melissande. Don’t hurt Reg. Please.”

Cautiously, Bibbie crawled out from under the bench. “I agree, actually,” she said, fastidiously smoothing the wrinkles from her Fandawandi silk ensemble. “It’s more fun if they’re alive. It won’t be the same if I have to throw rotten eggs at a stranger. And you know the bird’s harmless, Gerald. It just sits in the cage and moans.”

“What?” said Monk, startled. “What did you say, Bibs?”

Bibbie shot him a venomous look. “You can shut up. I don’t have to listen to you any more, big brother.”

Shaken, Gerald stared at the Markham siblings.

Monk? My Monk? How can that be my Monk? Bloody hell, I know he’s a genius but…

It couldn’t be him, surely. This had to be a trick. There was no proof that this man was who he said he was or that he had a way out of this mess.

Bloody hell. I’ll have to trust him. I can’t afford not to. Because if that is my Monk Markham He wasn’t going to think about how that made a difference. It just did. He’d worry about the ethics of it later, once they’d got themselves safely home.

If we can. If we don’t get ourselves and everyone else in this world killed trying.

The other Gerald, ignoring Monk’s staring disbelief and Bibbie’s bristling resentment, considered him with narrowed eyes. He stared straight back, making sure to still look shaken. It wasn’t much of an act.

But-but if this is my Monk Markham, what’s happened to the other one? Oh my God, don’t tell me he’s hiding in the bathroom!

It took all his strength not to look through the bathroom’s open door.

“Professor,” his counterpart said at last. “That was stupid. And I am-I used to be-a lot of things but really, stupid isn’t one of them. You’ve read my potentia. You know what I can do. You’ve seen what I will do. And you still refuse me? I’m embarrassed for both of us.”

He won’t believe me if I give in too easily.

“I think you are stupid, Gerald,” he snapped. “I’m the Dunwoody who didn’t lose his nerve, remember? The one who defeated Lional without resorting to Uffitzi’s filthy grimoires. In the only way that truly counts, I’m stronger than you. So go ahead. Do your worst. You won’t break me.”

“Really?” said his smiling counterpart. “You know, I wouldn’t bet on it.”

And with a snap of his fingers he dropped Monk back to the floor.

“You have to understand, Professor,” he said, sounding bored now, “that I can keep this going and going and he won’t actually die. He’ll want to die. He’ll beg to die. But he won’t. He’ll just suffer until you change your mind. Remember the cave? Just like that. Days and weeks and months and years of suffering. So the question is-how noble are you, Professor, when you get down to brass tacks? How noble is it to let someone else pay the price for your principles?”

Transfixed, Gerald stared at his keening, writhing friend. His Monk. From his world. The man who’d risked his career for him. Saved his life. Made him laugh. Paid for more than his fair share of Yok Tok takeaway.

I’m not an only child. I’ve got a brother, and his name’s Monk Markham.

Bibbie had walked away, as far as she could get, and was standing with her back to them with her close-cropped head lowered and her silk-covered arms folded tight. Beneath her ghastly new veneer she wasn’t entirely indifferent. Did that mean there was hope for her? Maybe. Maybe there was.

And then he looked at his counterpart.

But there’s no hope for him.

“I might even put him on display in the parade ground,” said the other Gerald, still smiling. “Wouldn’t that be an exhibit to make folk sit up and blink? Imagine it, Professor-the five year old brought to witness your indifference today could be the grandfather forty years from now, showing his own grandson what happens when I don’t get what I want. On the other hand, I could lock you both in here and leave you. How would you like that? Just your best friend and his screams for company, year after year after year after messy, noisy year…”

Oh, lord. Eyes stinging, he looked down at Monk, his jaw clenched so hard he thought it might break. The shadbolt shackling his friend was the worst he’d ever felt. It made Melissande’s look like a diamond tiara. Even those he’d sensed on Attaby and the others, they endured nothing compared to this. The urge to rip Monk free had him shaking. But he couldn’t. He had to play this out, right to the bitter end. This other Gerald would never believe a swift surrender. And if he wasn’t convinced-if he suspected a trap Hang on, Monk. I’m sorry. Please. Hang on.

The other Gerald was watching him closely. He didn’t dare so much as a glance at this world’s Reg-but he could feel her looking at him, crammed in that dreadful cage with her long beak tied shut. On the floor, Monk started twitching. The sounds he was making were getting louder. Less bearable. And then he opened his eyes and looked straight at him.

“Gerald, come on,” he whispered.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. You know I can’t.”

“Yeah, you can. Come on.”

He closed his eyes, briefly. “No, Monk. I can’t.”

Monk sobbed once. “Thought you were my friend. Everything I’ve done for you.”

“You-” He had to fold his arms against the pain in his chest. “You haven’t done anything for me. I don’t know you. I know the Monk from my world. And he-he wouldn’t ask this. He knows what’s at stake.”

“Bugger that,” said Monk, choking. “We’re the same man in every way that matters, Gerald, and I’m asking…”

He didn’t know what to do. How long to let this play out. Sickened, and sickeningly aware of the other Gerald’s scrutiny, he half-turned away.

Monk’s anguished cry followed him. “Please, Gerald. Please! ”

Right or wrong, he couldn’t do this any more. He let the plea break him.

“Fine!” he shouted, turning to the other Gerald. “You win! For God’s sake, that’s enough! ”

“Not quite,” said his counterpart. “After all, I am trying to make a point.”

“You’ve made it!” he said, and dropped to his knees. “ You’ve made it! You’ve got me, Gerald. All right? You win. I’ll do whatever you want.”

His counterpart laughed. “See, Bibbie? I told you. Soft as whipped cream.” And then the amusement vanished. “But Professor? Just in case this is a ruse, and you’re planning to pull a fast one? Well-just don’t.”

Monk shuddered once, with a terrible moan. Then the other Gerald snapped his fingers again and released him.

Bibbie turned around. Her eyes were dry but her face was chalk-white. “So are you finished now, Gerald? Can we go?”

The other Gerald glanced at her. “In a minute. Professor?”

He dragged his gaze away from silently shivering Monk. “What?”

“Catch,” said his counterpart, and tossed him a small, dark red crystal.

“And what’s this?” he said, feeling the acid of dark magics sizzle his cold fingers.

“A present,” said the other Gerald. “I made it especially for you.”

“Really?” He pushed to his feet. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Oh, it was no trouble.”

He could feel his potentia stirring, reacting to the incants sunk into the red crystal. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. You want me to swallow this?”

A genial nod. “If you’d be so kind.”

“Since it’s not a shadbolt,” he said, feeling his skin crawl, “d’you mind telling me what it is?”

“You don’t know?” The other Gerald pretended shock. “Gosh. Are you the world’s most powerful wizard or aren’t you?”

“I meant specifically, Gerald,” he said, glowering. “Under the circumstances rogue thaumaturgics is a little vague for my tastes.”

The other Gerald’s smile went nowhere near his eyes. “Don’t worry. There’s nothing in there that can hurt you, Professor. I’m just… giving you a boost, that’s all. So you can help me. Although, actually, when you think about it, you’re really helping yourself.”

No nightmare could ever come close to this. “Really? And what-you just happened to have this little grimoire sampler lying around? How convenient.”

“ Convenience had nothing to do with it,” his counterpart snapped. “I’ve been planning this for months, Professor. I knew almost from the beginning that I’d need you to make my plan work. Why d’you think I risked what I risked to get you here? Mind you-” He shot a resentful look at Monk, on the floor. “I didn’t realize this idiot would fail me. But that’s all right. I can spare you for a few hours.”

“To do what?”

“Bloody hell, Professor,” said the other Gerald, exasperated. “Weren’t you listening? I need you to help him finish what he started. What he swore to me he could build. And then, once it’s completed, you and I are going to change the world. This world. To start with. Today is what you might call-the overture.”

Oh, wonderful. He looked down at the red hex crystal burning his fingers with malign, malevolent promise. “Using this?”

“That’s right.” Another wide smile, as though he and the other Gerald were friends. As though Monk wasn’t curled up on the floor at their feet. “Using that. And trust me, Professor, you’re going to thank me for it. Not only will the incants in that crystal help you change the world, they’ll give you a taste of what you’re missing out on because of some antiquated notions forced on you by men too gutless to take what they want.”

He looked at Bibbie. “And that’s how you hooked her, is it? How you twisted and-”

The other Gerald raised a finger. “ Careful, Professor.”

Of course it was. This other Gerald had dangled a morsel of forbidden fruit in front of his Bibbie, and his Bibbie-being Bibbie, and fearless-had grabbed it with glee. Because she and Monk were Markhams, and in the habit of… bending the rules. Because she was tired of being a girl and hearing No, dear, you can’t. Be a good little witch and don’t show up the boys. And of course, once she’d tasted it, she’d wanted more, and more, and more…

Oh, bloody hell, Bibbie. It was ridiculous to feel guilty. He wasn’t the one who’d tempted her. But still. Bibs, I’m so sorry.

“Anyway,” said his counterpart briskly, and clapped his hands. “I’ve got things to do, so let’s get on, shall we? Swallow the crystal, Professor. Now. While I’m watching. Nothing personal, I just don’t trust you not to flush it down the bog once my back’s turned.”

“You still haven’t told me what incants are in this thing.”

The other Gerald rolled his eyes. “Oh, Saint Snodgrass save me. Fine. There’s a general etheretic enhancement hex. A trebled counter-incant that’ll let you-well, never mind. You don’t need to know about that yet. There’s an incant that gives you the power to control any First Grade wizard-which won’t work on me, so don’t even bother trying. A bunch of shadbolt matrixes, always useful. A handful of compulsion hexes-and they won’t work on me either, so, y’know, don’t waste my time. Oh yes, and a couple of nifty punishment hexes. For when your underlings get uppity.”

“I see,” he said, feeling sick again. “And that’s it?”

“For starters,” said his counterpart. “But if you’re very good, Professor, who knows? There could be more.”

He shook his head. “Trust me, Gerald. I won’t be wanting more.”

The other Gerald laughed. “Yes, well, you say that now. But I think you’ll find that once you get a taste of what’s possible you won’t be quite so eager to sermonize. Or turn me down.”

The casually mocking comment chilled him.

What if he’s right? What if I like what’s in this crystal? It might not be the worst dark magic in the world, but still… if I swallow it I won’t be me any more. I’ll have taken the first step towards turning into him.

He could feel Monk, staring. Lifted his own gaze, just enough. His friend was hunched on his side with his back to the other Gerald. He nodded, the smallest gesture. Twitched his lips into the merest hint of a smile.

Oh, bloody hell, Monk. You’d better know how to purge me if this muck.

He closed his eyes, shuddering, and swallowed the hex crystal. Within moments his mouth filled with a raw and angry heat. Whatever he was tasting he didn’t begin to understand it. It tasted of nothing, of everything, of power and pain. He felt his potentia stir to life like a banked fire kicked over. Felt the hex crystal’s incants unfurling like a seed-pod in spring. All that dark promise uncoiling, expanding, pushing single-mindedly through his blood towards the sun.

“Steady now, Professor,” said his counterpart, and took his arm. “Don’t fight it. Let it happen. It might tickle a bit. But what’s a little pain compared with undreamt of power?”

Bloody hell. A little pain? The dark incants and hexes had sharp teeth and claws and they were tearing holes in his etheretic aura. Burrowing into his potentia. He could feel himself… changing. Could feel a shadow, encroaching.

Oh no. Oh no. What the hell have I done?

He would’ve fallen, if the other Gerald wasn’t holding him up. He felt himself clinging. Heard himself say: “Don’t let go.”

“It’s all right, Gerald,” said his other self, so kindly. “Don’t be frightened. I’ve got you. You’re safe with me. You’re safe.”

And then the dark magic inside him finished unfolding and caught fire. Seared every nerve and sinew as it flashed through him, incandescent.

“There,” said the other Gerald, pleased. “All finished.” Letting go, he stepped back. “And doesn’t that feel better?”

The pain was gone. That was better. But the shadow-the shadow “Yes,” he said, blinking. “I’m fine.”

“I knew you would be,” said his counterpart, who then turned and kicked Monk. “Get up, Markham. You’ve got work to do.”

Slowly, painfully, Monk rolled to his hands and knees. Took a deep breath and staggered to his feet. “Look. I’m going to need him for more than a couple of hours. This bloody contraption of yours-I don’t know if you understand how complicated it is, Gerald.”

“Thank you, I’m not an idiot,” the other Gerald said coldly. “How long do you need him?”

“All night would be good.”

“ All night? Markham-”

“Oh, Gerald, don’t go on,” said Bibbie. “Isn’t it better that he’ll be locked in here with Monk? At least this way you won’t have to worry about keeping an eye on him. Once the lab doors are hexed that’s it. He’s just another Reg in a tiny little cage.”

“I suppose so,” said the other Gerald, grudging. “But let’s get one thing clear, Monk-if he’s staying the night that means no more excuses. I want to find my machine finished and foolproof when I come back in the morning. Is that clear?”

“Actually,” said Gerald, not looking at Monk, “instead of making assumptions that I can help, maybe you should explain what this contraption of yours-”

“Monk’ll explain it,” snapped his counterpart. “I don’t have time. Bibbie-”

“Finally,” said Bibbie, going to him. “I was about to die of boredom. You’re taking me out to dinner, Gerald. A very expensive, very exclusive, very rarified dinner. And you’re giving me a gold-and-diamond bracelet.”

The other Gerald laughed. “Am I? All right.”

Gerald looked away as they kissed, not envious any more. Just ill and revolted. He felt Monk’s shocked horror like a blow. Poor bugger. Bet he was sorry he’d come, now.

The laboratory door banged closed behind them, and then came an obliterating surge in the ether as the multiple, unbreakable locking-hexes and incants were reengaged.

“Right,” said Monk, once the etheretic ripples had faded. “Come on, Gerald. We’re getting the hell out of here.”

“What?” he said, staring. “Um-no. No, we’re not. We can’t, Monk. Not yet.”

The Reg in the cage started bouncing up and down, banging her beak against the bars so hard she risked hurting herself. Poor thing.

“Oh, blimey,” said Monk, and crossed to the cage. “Hang on-hang on-Gerald-unhex the door, would you? I can’t. This bloody shadbolt.”

Yes. The shadbolt. How the devil had he managed that? How had he managed any of this?

“Gerald, I’ll explain later! Just open the bloody cage!”

Thanks to the dark magics the other Gerald had given him, the filthy incants binding the cage door surrendered without a fight.

“Wait-wait-” said Monk, carefully extracting agitated Reg from her prison. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Released from her prison, with the red ribbon gag discarded, Reg shot into the air, an indignant blur of feathers. “Not yet? Not yet? What d’you mean, not yet? Gerald Dunwoody, I want to go home! ”

Stunned, he watched her flap furiously around the lab. That was Reg. His Reg. But-but I was going to let Gerald kill her. I was going to let him snap her neck. Oh my God… oh my God…

Furious, he turned on Monk. “Bloody hell, Markham, what’s she doing here? What the hell were you thinking, bringing Reg into this?”

“Hey, don’t look at me!” Monk retorted. “I didn’t invite her, she invited herself!”

“Then why didn’t you un invite her? Why didn’t you send her packing as soon as you realized-”

“Shut up, the pair of you!” said Reg, landing in a flapping of wings on the top of the cage. “Do I look like a wishbone at the family picnic? Has interdimensional sightseeing scrambled your brains? Monk Markham, get us out of here!”

Abruptly exhausted, Gerald headed for the nearest bit of empty wall and slid down it. His head was pounding. “ No! I told you, nobody’s going anywhere. At least, I’m not going anywhere. I suppose you two can do what you like.”

“Bloody hell,” said Monk, and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “ Gerald — ”

“ Don’t,” he snapped. “I’ve had a very bad day.”

“It’s no use, sunshine,” Reg sighed, rattling her tail. “You know what he’s like. We’ll have to hear him out. Only first you’d better make sure my pathetic twin hasn’t carked it.”

“Bugger,” said Monk. “I forgot about her.”

Gerald watched, lost for words, as Monk ducked into the lab’s bathroom and came out again a moment later cradling a limp draggle of feathers against his chest. “She’s all right, I think,” he said. “Just weak.”

“Yes, I’m fine,” said the other Reg. Her eyes were glazed, and there was no familiar gloss on her feathers. “Just tired. And thirsty.”

“Well, don’t sit there gawking at her, Gerald,” Reg snapped, waspish. “Fetch her some water. Fetch enough for both of us. I’m parched too.”

Water. Yes. Right. Good idea. He scrambled to his feet, snatched up two empty beakers and took them into the bathroom. It was empty. No second Monk. Everywhere he turned, another bloody mystery. After filling the beakers with water he went back out to the lab.

“So where is he, then?” he said. “This world’s Monk, I mean. You must have him stashed somewhere.”

“He’s dead,” Monk said flatly, perched on the lab’s only stool. “Look. Give that poor bird a drink, and Reg, and then I’ll tell you what’s been going on. Maybe then you’ll understand why we have to get out of here before that bastard comes back.”

Dead? The other Monk was dead? Then where was the body? “But Monk-”

“Just hear me out, Gerald! I think you owe me that much!”

Right. Right. Monk was upset. “Fine,” he said, then looked around the locked lab. “Only, is it safe to talk? He could be listening.”

“I’ve checked,” said Monk. “We’re safe. Gerald-”

“Yes. Sorry.”

Monk had settled the other Reg on the makeshift bed’s pillow. He put one beaker down on the bench for his Reg, then sat beside the other one, braced his back against the wall and offered her a drink.

“Thank you,” she murmured, after drinking, then almost immediately drifted into a doze.

Bloody hell, she looks rough. I can’t imagine what she’s been through…

Having drunk her own fill, his Reg flapped down from the bench to perch on his bent knees. He stroked a finger down her wing, so pleased to see her. “All right, Monk. I’m listening.”

Slumped on his lab stool, Monk started talking. At last, when he stopped, Gerald looked at him. He felt pummeled. No, pulverized. Thrashed to an emotional pulp.

But that’s probably nothing compared to what Monk’s feeling.

“Bloody hell.”

Monk snorted. “You’re telling me.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’ll live.”

Oh, very funny. It wasn’t remotely true, either. Monk was holding himself together, but only just.

But that’s a conversation for another time and place.

“And nobody in the government outside Sir Alec knows about any of it?”

“Not when I–I mean we- left,” said Monk. “But the longer we stay away the more likely it is that something’ll go wrong and he’ll have to spill the beans. If we’re not careful, Gerald, we’ll walk back into a bloody firestorm. I’m telling you, we need to go and we need to go now.”

Gerald wiped a hand across his face. “You’re not thinking straight, Monk. We can’t leave until we’ve done something about this world’s Gerald.”

“We will do something,” said Monk. “As soon as we get home.”

“Like what?”

“Like-like-oh, I don’t know,” said Monk, reckless. “I’ll invent something, won’t I?” And then he straightened. “In fact-in fact- ” He snapped his fingers. “ Ha! I’ve got it! I’ve already invented the solution, haven’t I?”

“I don’t know,” he said, rubbing his temples. “Have you?”

“Yes! My multi-dimensional etheretic wavelength expander,” said Monk, fired up. “The work’s practically done for us, mate. All we have to do is iron out the kinks, soup it up a bit, reverse its etheretic polarities to switch its modality from expand to inhibit, add a few extra layers of security and booby-traps and what have you-and hey presto. Instant impenetrable interdimensional barrier. Guaranteed to stop your evil twin from opening a portal to our world ever again.”

Letting his head tip back against the wall, he considered his friend with weary affection. “Hey presto, eh? Just like that?”

“Bloody oath just like that!”

He managed a tired smile. “Yeah. It sounds great, Monk. Only you’re forgetting one small detail. Evil twin Gerald didn’t open a portal to bring me here. He yanked me out of an existing regular domestic transport portal. While I was on my way to Grande Splotze. Can you guarantee your invention can prevent a repeat of that nifty trick?”

Monk opened his mouth, then closed it again. Shook his head. “No.”

“Fine. So unless you want to explain why we have to close down our world’s entire portal network overnight we can’t go home until we’ve taken care of him.”

“Bugger,” said Monk, scowling. “I hate it when you’re right.”

He sighed. “Trust me. So do I.”

“Well, then,” said Reg, rattling her tail. “So now we’ve decided the manky git’s got to die, if one of you can rustle up a nail file I’ll sharpen my beak and stick it right through his maggoty black heart.”

“Oh, Reg.” He stroked her wing again. “Get a grip. Nobody’s stabbing anyone. We’ll have to smuggle him out of here, back to our Ottosland. Hand him over to Sir Alec. He’ll know what to do.”

“Yes,” said Reg. “He’ll put him down like a dog. But I don’t see why our resident government stooge should have all the fun.”

Monk pulled a face. “Y’know, she’s got a point. Give me a nail file and I’ll perforate the bastard myself.”

“No!” he said sharply. “Just-shut up, Monk. You don’t know what you’re saying. You’ve never killed anyone and believe me-you don’t want to.”

Instead of answering, Monk slid off his stool and checked on the other Reg. She’d fallen properly asleep, head tucked under one wing, a forlorn drabble of feathers piled on the pillow. Sitting down again, he sucked in air and winced.

Gerald bit his lip. Lord, he looks bloody terrible. He’s had it ten times worse than me. “I wish I could get that bloody shadbolt off you.”

“Not as much as I do, mate.”

“I will. The second we get home, the filthy thing’s history.” He heard his breathing hitch. “I can’t believe you let Sir Alec put it on you. I can’t believe-”

“What, you thought I’d leave you stranded here?” said Monk, eyebrows lifting. “Thanks. Nice to know you’ve got such a high opinion of me, Dunnywood.”

He sat up, indignant. “What? No-I just-Monk-”

But Monk was grinning, sardonic. “Gotcha.”

“Pillock,” he said, slumping again.

“Tosser,” Monk retorted. “Huh. Y’know what I can’t believe? I can’t believe that was Bibbie.”

“It wasn’t,” he said quietly. “Monk, forget what you saw. What you heard. You’ll go demented if you don’t. They might be wearing our faces but they aren’t us. All right?”

“Yeah,” Monk muttered. “I suppose.” He punched his knee. “Except-look-what Bibbie- she — said about Mel. Rotten eggs? What did she mean?”

Oh, hell. “What did I just say, Monk? They’re not us. Forget it.”

But Monk never was one to take wise advice. “Have you seen her? This world’s Mel? Is she all right? Is she safe? Gerald-”

“She’s fine,” he said, making himself meet Monk’s distressed gaze without flinching. I have to lie. I have to. It’s the kind thing to do. “She’s living in the same house. Our-your-house. She’s fine.”

Monk let out a long and shaky breath. “Good. That’s something. I mean, I know he threatened her to get to you, and I understand what you’re saying about us not being them, but still-I mean, in a weird way he is you, isn’t he? Yeah, he’s twisted inside-out with dark magics-I know, I felt them-but-underneath all that, even though he isn’t, he’s still you.”

“Yeah, Monk. He is.”

And that would be what scares me the most.

“Blimey-” Monk sat forward. “Sorry. I’m not thinking straight. Those dark incants he made you swallow-”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly. “I wouldn’t even call them dark. Grubby, maybe. But nothing I can’t handle.”

“Ha!” said Reg, and chattered her beak. “Pull the other leg, sunshine. If it comes off we know where to find a spare.”

Monk was scowling. “Yeah, Gerald. What she said. I saw your face when those incants kicked in.”

The shadow slithered through him, a dark snake in the grass. “I can handle it,” he insisted. “Rogue wizard, remember? It’s under control. Now stop fussing at me, the pair of you, and tell me what it is this world’s Monk Markham has been building for my evil twin.” He nodded at the sprawl of coils and conductors and thaumaturgic containers and gauges spread out on the lab’s biggest bench. “I take it that’s it?”

“That’s it,” said Monk.

“And?”

Monk shrugged. “And it’s the most diabolical perversion of a thaumaturgic invention that I’ve ever come across.”

“Oh.” He stared at the mysterious thingamajig on the bench. “Why? What does it do?”

Reg chattered her beak. “Nothing yet, because Mad Mr. Markham here hasn’t finished the bloody thing. But when he does-”

The other Reg stirred on her pillowy bed, and sat up. “When he does, sunshine, that’ll be it. The end of our world. And then the end of yours. And after that…”

“It’s a weapon?” he said, startled, turning back to the other Monk’s untidy invention.

“Not the way you’re thinking, Gerald,” said the other Reg. “ Gerald. ” Her voice broke. “I never thought I’d see the old you again.”

He had to clear his throat. “No. I don’t suppose you did. Look, about this-”

“It’s a thaumaturgic enhancer,” said Monk, his face grim. “Good old Gerald’s tired of arguing with people. He’s going to shadbolt every wizard and witch in the country-and from what I can gather, it’s all thanks to me.”

“In other words it is a weapon,” he said. “So I guess that means we’ve got some work ahead of us. Because if it’s the last thing we do, we can’t let him get his hands on it.”