Free Between Two Thorns by Emma Newman Page B

work is done.”
    “But!” Cathy fought not to stammer. “But you haven’t told me.”
    “You never wished for that. ” The faerie stuck out its tiny tongue. “You mortals never learn. You only wished to know . You didn’t specify when .”

 
    8
     
    Max slept for over an hour after the police officers left and when he woke his mouth tasted as if something had crawled in there and died.
    The police were frustrated but he’d argued that whilst he might have been trespassing on the roof of the hotel, he was still a victim of a gunshot wound rather than a perpetrator. There wasn’t much else to go on until various reports arrived, and he suspected they’d want to bury it rather than have to admit the perpetrator’s body had gone missing. He noted they neglected to mention that when they interviewed him.
    He waited for a nurse and asked if there was a telephone he could use nearby. When she offered to wheel one in he accepted, adding a request for a local telephone directory and a pair of crutches.
    “It’s a little soon to be using those,” she said.
    “I’ve used them before,” he lied. “I want to see if I can remember how to do it.”
    She eventually relented, probably so she didn’t have to keep talking to him.
    He had to leave before the other Arbiters came for him, and, without support from the Chapter, the only choice was to go directly to Mr Ekstrand, the Sorcerer of Wessex. Max was fortunate that he’d been picked to run the field tests on the glasses (now missing and potentially in an evidence bag somewhere); he was the only Arbiter apart from the Chapter Master who knew where to enter the Nether to find the Sorcerer’s house.
    Two hours later he was sitting in a white van listening to an innocent talk about the last removals job he’d had. The gargoyle, masquerading as an eccentric garden ornament, was safely loaded in the back and they were heading down the M4 motorway towards Bath.
    The conversation was one-sided and that suited Max perfectly. All he’d had to do was explain how he’d had an accident trying to move the gargoyle for a friend, pay the man all the money he had and they were on the road, no more questions asked.
    Sweating from the pain, he drifted in and out, his thumb twitching for the morphine button left behind. He had a sense of his coat being too light and patted his pockets. They were empty. Occasionally he thought he could hear scuffs and knocks in the back of the van as the gargoyle fidgeted, but nothing made the driver break his monologue.
    The city of Bath was mercifully quiet by the time they arrived. He directed the driver to a street as close as he dared, explaining that a friend would pick him and the statue up. Gargoyle unloaded onto the pavement, hands shaken, wishes of the best offered and Max found himself on a dark road at the edge of Bath.
    He looked at the gargoyle. There were two of them briefly. “I can’t bear this pain much longer,” it said. “Let’s find Ekstrand’s house. Wait a second.” It reached into one of Max’s coat pockets and its muzzle wrinkled as it pulled its paw back out again. “Our stuff, what happened to our stuff?” It was rubbing its claws together. “And where did all this powder come from?”
    “Ekstrand’s first,” Max said and limped along on his crutches, heading towards the end of the street. Expecting trouble, he sent the gargoyle off into the shadows when he heard a car pull up where the van had been but moments before.
    The click of his crutches on the pavement was much slower than the brisk clip of shoes behind him. He focused on making it to the anchor property as quickly as he could without passing out. There was a scrape of stone on tarmac, a loud thud and then the gargoyle was at his side, taking a crutch and half holding him up.
    “Was it an Arbiter?”
    “Yeah,” it replied. “Ex Arbiter.”
    “You killed him?”
    “I dunno. I think so. He was crooked anyway. He was pulling a silenced gun on you,