arm to the body? The body to the mind?’
‘Whom are you addressing, Mr Quare?’
He turned, startled, to find that Longinus had regained consciousness and climbed to his feet while Magnus had been busy pleading for the Old Wolf’s life – less, it seemed, out of any impulse towards mercy than from the same deep-seated hatred and sense of rivalry that had always characterized relations between the two men. ‘What?’
‘Who is it that is as much in harness as you?’
Only then did Quare realize that his half of the conversation with Magnus had been spoken aloud. He had assumed that the two of them were conversing mind to mind – but that was evidently not the case. Longinus must think him mad. And telling the truth would confirm his opinion. ‘Never mind that,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you later. We’ve got to get out of here before anyone else comes.’ It wasn’t his own safety that concerned him, but rather the bloodbath that would ensue if the hunter once more began to feed.
Longinus did not reply. Instead, he glanced about the room. ‘You have been busy,’ he said at last, inclining his head towards the nearest guard. ‘You seem to have overcome your squeamishness about cold-blooded murder. The Old Wolf would be pleased. Or perhaps not, seeing as how you have cut the throats of his personal guards.’
‘That wasn’t me. It was …’ He wasn’t sure how to explain.
‘The hunter?’
He was still holding the timepiece, his fingers locked around it. He raised it now, held it out before him as if in explanation. It was no longer glowing … and the hands had ceased their motion. It might have been no more than what it appeared to be. Except, of course, it wasn’t.
‘Your finger is no longer bleeding, I see,’ Longinus went on. ‘In fact, there is a conspicuous absence of blood all around, considering the abundance of slit throats. The hunter again?’
Quare gave a resigned nod.
‘You had best give it to me, Mr Quare.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
Suddenly, Quare was facing a drawn sword. He had not noticed that Longinus, too, had rearmed himself. ‘The hunter, sir. Hand it over, if you please.’
Again Quare felt an invading presence slip into his skin like a hand inserted snugly into a glove. That hand drew his sword. ‘I cannot.’
Longinus nodded, as if his suspicions had been confirmed. ‘Because you are in harness, as you said. The hunter controls you. That much is plain to see. And I see as well that there is no hope of mastering it. I was a fool to think otherwise. What is it, Mr Quare? Can you tell me that, at least?’
‘An abomination,’ he said. ‘It is no weapon. It is—’
‘Oh, my aching head!’
Pickens climbed to his feet, rubbing his head with one hand and looking curiously from Quare to Longinus and back again. ‘What the deuce is going on? For God’s sake, this isn’t the time to squabble amongst ourselves! You’ve got what you came for – can we please just get out of here?’
‘He’s right,’ Quare said, eyes fixed on Longinus. ‘Surely you can see that.’
‘’Course I’m right,’ said Pickens, stooping to help himself to the sword of one of the dead guards. ‘Afraid I didn’t see how you turned the tables, Quare, old boy,’ he added, seeming to take stock of the situation for the first time, ‘but well done. Well done indeed! Only, you forgot the Old Wolf. I’ll just carve him a second smile, shall I, and we can be on our merry way …’
‘No,’ Quare said, and this time, though it was his voice that spoke, the will behind it belonged to another. And that will was not Magnus’s, either. Magnus was part of it, but looming behind Magnus like a mountainous shadow was something stronger, vaster, older … and yet, Quare sensed – because he, too, was part of it – something that was still taking shape, not fully formed, simultaneously ancient and new, like a possibility that had existed from the beginning of all things but was only now on the verge of being realized. Of being born. ‘We don’t want this one.’
Pickens drew back. ‘Don’t we? Got something else in mind for him, Quare?’
‘Mr Quare is not himself,’ Longinus said, advancing upon him, sword at the ready.
‘Isn’t he?’ Pickens blinked owlishly. ‘Who is he, then?’
‘I should very much like to know that myself.’
It was the Old Wolf. He rolled to a sitting position, a pistol held in one meaty