Exsanguination and Other Love Stories

IX. Barabbas' Complaint

"Cordelia and I were lovers," Mr. Blue began. "Inevitably, I tired of her, and she proposed to find me a companion who would please me more. I agreed, because I had long suspected that there was some great secret to her influence in the world, beyond anything in my own area of expertise, and I wished to learn what it was. To break with her openly would have been worse than foolish."

"She directed me to build this room in the base of my complex, with the tank running round. A week after it was complete, she brought Chariclea to my door, and the great tedium began."

"You weren't pleased with Chariclea?"

"Would you have been? She was a goddess incarnate. It was intolerable! All she did was pine for her One True Love and pester me to return her to the Fourth World, so she could try to find him again. Idiot! Nevermind that the fiction Cordelia pulled her from was far more unpleasant than anything on this earth. Pirates – marsh people – mad Persians – pirates! Fool might as well have been living on Mount Olympus with me, by comparison! But was she grateful? Of course not. Nothing but relentless purity and reproachful tears."

I stared at him blankly.

"What Fourth World are you talking about?" I interjected, trying to pull the most critical element, as it appeared to me, out of this wall of baffling exposition.

"Where she came from. Where they all come from." He jerked his head back shortly at the pedestals behind him, and the door. "Werewolves. Your vampire. The shallow imaginations of women and fools – Cordelia's power source of choice."

"I don't know anything about werewolves or witches," I said slowly, "But I think you've been misinformed. Florian told me a witch called Helena made him the way he is. The way he spoke it sounded like that happened in our world, hundreds of years ago."

"I'm sure that's what he thought it would please you to hear," said Mr. Blue, "Cordelia always spoke of him as a panderer. But the truth is, she summoned him up just like the rest of us. I have no reason to lie to you now, Bill. Does it upset you to hear that he was lying?"

"No," I said, too quickly. "What happened after Chariclea?"

He smiled. "The endless horde of interns – Cordelia foisted them on me one by one. I'm sure she meant to spite me. I dispatched them all very tidily. Eventually, I showed her my new collection, and she cursed me roundly. There's a fairy tale behind the beard – some wife-dispatching ogre or other. Cordelia always had a very childish bent."

I thought we should change the subject from the beard. He always began to look more dangerous when the beard was mentioned, and I didn't want him wielding the razor again to touch up. "But what about Neve?" I pressed carefully. "Where did she come from?"

"Cordelia didn't bring her to me. I recruited her from a remote corner of Europe where the border between here and there is thinner. Her pack may have crossed over on their own at some point. Anyway, Cordelia had built a nonprofit near the site, which came in handy for me later on."

"You mean – that cat sanctuary where she died."

"Indeed. A fitting place to dispatch a witch, don't you think? Right on the border between reality and madness. I don't ever intend to go there myself. I sent Neve to do it. Werewolf blood is poison to witches, and Neve was a very powerful werewolf. She only had to fling a few drops: lucky, that, because the girl never had much of a decisive bent. She brought me back that flask you're holding, as proof."

"Go on," he said. "Take a sip. I think there's still something strong in there. We have time."

I obliged. It was slightly bitter, and I didn't like the taste of it one bit: but I would have done anything at that point to delay the very certain end I saw our conversation coming to.

"What are you going to put on there for me?" I asked, when I had finished the flask.

"You tell me," said Mr. Blue.

I set the flask back down on the Vane pedestal, and held out my tablet to him wordlessly.

"I don't think so," he said. "That's already mine. Anything else?"

My stomach did an unpleasant flip. Everything I was wearing now was company issue. And if I handed over my phone, he might notice Florian's texts...

"I can pick, Sabilla," Mr. Blue said softly, taking a step towards me. "I picked for the others."

"No! Wait. I've decided. You can have - "

"Not the phone, Bill. Everyone has a phone."

"My pony-tail!" I cried. "Here, I'll cut it off right now!" And I held out my hand.

He laughed. Then he grabbed my wrist, twisted me around against him, and held me fast. Kazing!

Something soft brushed against the back of my neck, and moments later, a handful of carroty split ends hit the marble of the pedestal near my feet and scattered there.

I tore myself from Mr. Blue's arms with a shriek. Mousy strands now hung forward over my brow, and I pushed them out of my eyes with trembling fingers as I backed away. Barabbas let me go, smiling.

Then he stepped off the pedestal again. Very quickly I found myself with my back pressed against the nearest aquarium wall.

"What now, Bill?" he asked. "Are you afraid?"

"No!" I snapped back. "Why should I be? You're a voyeur and a thief! You're hollower than a gilt-wrapped Easter rabbit, and even in those ridiculous shoes, you have all the character of a piece of six-month-old haddock."

Mr. Blue blinked.

"Unrefrigerated haddock," I added. Just in case he hadn't got the message.*

But he had stopped in his advance, and was now staring beyond me quite intently. And gazing past him, I realized the real reason why.

There was movement in the aquarium all around us, and without any perceptible trigger, the formerly still waters were beginning to roil and cloud over of their own accord.

*It must be said that Bill's scope of experiences to draw metaphors from was rather limited at the time. Sometimes Cordelia's cats had liked to take the leftovers of their raw fish dinners and hide them in unexpected places.