Decay Inevitable

“I was paid a hefty wedge, hefty for the 1980s anyhow, to blow these little bastards away. I’m still collecting a fair bit of interest on that pile, even though I didn’t make the first kill until Christmas.”

“You bastard,” Sean said. He could feel his heartbeat rising in his chest, in his throat, until it was sitting behind his ears, pulling tight the skin of his forehead.

“Hey, don’t have a go at me. I argued that we didn’t need to do it. You scarpered before I got the chance to open my account. But I had my orders from up high. They didn’t want to run the risk of your tiny minds being reactivated. They were quite happy to live with the fact that you might find it odd that you healed more quickly than the other girls and boys when you burned your fingers, but what did that matter, as long as you didn’t work out why?

“Truth be told, I have slowed down a bit over the years. And since it was you that found the Clew bint... do you realise, when you first knocked on the door, that she was still alive by the way? Since it was you that started up the itch in our little family’s balls that just would not be scratched, we had to call in outside help.” Here, Gleave’s smile faltered. “Not that it’s done us much good, it has to be said. But anyway. We seem to be on top of things now. Out of the three Inserts, Verny, only two are left, and they are both fucked.”

It became just another noise after a while, a noise that couldn’t get beyond the thrum of heat in his head. Even Vernon Lord seemed bored by Gleave’s speech.

“What is it you want?” Sean asked.

“I just want to plough my own furrow,” Vernon said. “I’m just making my own sweet way in the world.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Sean sneered. “You fucking evil piece of shit. You fucking body-snatcher.”

Vernon screwed up his face in mock disgust. “Ouch,” he said, and started laughing.

“You bent old bastard,” Sean continued, stoking his rage, letting it come, getting on top of it, controlling it for what he needed to do next. “You ancient, sad old has-been. But no, I’m being kind. Sad old never-was, more like.”

Vernon had stopped laughing and was stroking the butt of the gun. “Stop it right there, you little shit,” he said. Now it was Sean’s turn to laugh.

He said, “You think a gun can do me any harm, hey?” He got up and slapped Vernon hard across the face.

“You fuck!” Vernon screamed, lurching back and swinging the gun until it was flush with Sean’s forehead.

“Go on!” Sean screamed. “Go on!”

Gleave said, affably, “Do it, Vern. Shoot him.”

The sound of the blast in the closed room was enormous. A hole burst open in the back of Sean’s head that enabled Vernon Lord to watch the framed painting directly behind him take the exiting bullet. Sean staggered back and slumped onto his backside. His head slammed back into the fireplace and his hair caught fire. It smouldered, filling the room with a sickly-sweet scorching.

“Pull him out,” Gleave said, “before he catches fire.”

Vernon, his face red and puffy with exertion, stuffed the gun into the waistband of his trousers and reached down to grab Sean. The skin of his temples was being licked by the flame.

Sean said, “Get your fucking dirty old man’s hands off me.”

He sat up. The hole in his head was diminishing, slowly spiralling shut like the iris lens of a camera. Vernon Lord had frozen, his mouth open as if to take receipt of a spoonful of soup. Sean rammed the heel of his hand into the bridge of Vernon’s nose. The resultant snap was almost as shocking as the gunfire.

Gleave was inspecting his fingernails. Vernon sat dazed on the floor, a crimson hand trying to keep his nose on his face, looking bovinely at Gleave and then Sean and then Gleave again.

Sean said again, “What is it you want?” He could see out of the window that the taxi had vanished. Maybe Emma had heard the gunshot and decided to get help. He hoped she wouldn’t be long.

Gleave said, “Peter de Fleche is a great man. An architect, but not just of buildings. Of people and dreams and futures so wonderful they’d set your head spinning. He was a seer and a joker and a thaumaturgist. Him being over there, it’s paved the way for some amazing things. A dream centre here, maybe. Dream control. Could be huge.”

Sean said, “You killed my parents.”

Gleave’s face fell, his oration wasted. “He’ll be back soon, de Fleche. A glorious return. Once scum like you have been put in the earth. Once all the Negstreams have been sealed for good.”

Sean felt heat flood his fingers, his hands. His arms stiffened with intent. “You killed them.”

Gleave affected a demure look. “A trifling detail in my biography, but yes, you’re right, I bagged those cunts.”

Sean launched himself, knocking over the table and causing the remaining chess pieces to skitter across the floor.