Red, White and Blue (Book Two of The Powder Trail)

Chapter Thirty One: Abundant Materials

Myrrha lingered luxuriously over her cup of tea, while Carver told her about his meeting with Miss Syal that afternoon. Occasionally, he spluttered, and she was obliged to place her hand over the tea-cup to ensure that nothing splashed in.

And while he spoke, she fantasized about chopping his head off, or at least slamming it repeatedly against the table-top until his forehead was red-raw. She found it difficult to remember, at moments like this, why he was useful, and why she had adopted this policy of appeasement towards him.

"She made a fool of me!" Carver concluded, red-faced and panting. There were flecks of spittle glistening on his lips.

"No, Carver – you made a fool of you. All she did was draw attention to the fact."

"If the tavern servants hadn't been there, I would have thrown her over my knee and--"

But Myrrha raised a hand to stop him "Please!" she said, with a wince. "I know what you would have done, Carver – it's one of the unenviable privileges of being me."

"She wants a challenge," he said, licking the spittle off his lips.

"She wants an executioner. Her attempts at self-destruction are getting so transparent, I'd expect even you to see them."

"This has to be answered," said Carver breathlessly. "You'll be a laughing-stock!"

Myrrha rolled her eyes. "Well, Fabby?" she said, turning to her companion. "What do you think? It'll be a whole new world tomorrow. What shall we do with our last night in this one?"

Fabienne looked round. Her response to hearing that the great, Messianic figure of the new-breeds would be returning from the grave this evening had been to clean the house. Not personally, of course – that would have been beneath her dignity – but she was supervising the cleaning with a thunderous face, and was currently standing over a local girl who'd been brought in to scrub the floors.

"I wonder that you ask me," said Fabienne tartly. "You've got your pack of cards, haven't you?"

She had been in a bad temper all day. Myrrha didn't blame her. She was feeling terrified and excited herself. Eve's return was something she'd been anticipating for so long that it had taken on the broad, well-worn features of a fairytale. Now that fairytale was coming alive, stepping out of its book, and even though she knew it by heart, she couldn't escape the feeling that she wasn't ready for it. 

She took her pack of cards out of the kitchen drawer and shuffled them absent-mindedly for a while, pretending she couldn't hear Carver tutting, or the local girl scrubbing, or Fabienne loudly refraining from comment of any kind.

Then she put down a card. It was the ten of diamonds – the card that had previously suggested lashings of blood to her mind. She supposed that was fairly unequivocal.

"Very well, Carver," she said, looking up at him. "There is one thing I could do. I could replace Jack's memories, but not his feelings. That's bound to increase his animosity towards her. He'll remember that she left him in India for his worst enemy and drove him to attempt suicide at the Delhi Cantonment. If she wants a challenge, she can try surviving Jack Cade in a bad temper."

Carver gave her a grim smile, as though this idea passed muster.

"I'll need your blood, though," she added, getting up and wandering over to the dresser, "since I'll be unpicking at least part of your spell."

Carver very delicately held out his finger, as though he expected her to prick it with a pin. But Myrrha, who'd been rummaging in the drawers of the dresser, came out with a meat cleaver, and smiled. "Oh, I'm sorry, Carver. I like to work with abundant materials."

Fabienne sulked with her even more after that, because they had to re-scrub the floors. 

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