CHAPTER TWO
GETTING TO KNOW YOU.
GETTING TO KNOW ALL ABOUT YOU.
City girls always know the best bars. The White Rabbit turned out to be a pleasant little watering hole tucked away down a side street just a few minutes stroll from the Tate. The hanging sign showed a humanoid white rabbit in a Victorian smoking jacket, complete with top hat and monocle. Amanda burst through the door like the hunter home from the hill, and people smiled and nodded as she breezed past them. I followed on behind and no one even glanced in my direction, which suited me well enough.
Amanda ordered a bottle of the house red and I paid for it, relieved she hadn’t ordered some cocktail with a pornographic name. City girls have their ways, but I don’t always have to like them. We settled ourselves comfortably in a booth at the rear of the bar, and toasted each other. I was pleased to see Amanda drink her wine with an honest thirst, none of that elegant sipping nonsense. She emptied her glass, and I emptied mine. Amanda hit me with her dazzling smile as I poured again, mischief dancing in her impossibly blue eyes.
“You didn’t accept my invitation for a drink and a chat just because I’m easy on the eye, Jack.”
“Not entirely,” I said.
“I saw some amazing things this evening. And I’m not just talking about the painting; you were amazing too.”
“You flatter me,” I said.
“You saved all those people!”
“That’s my job,” I said.
“I want to know more, Jack. About you, and the kind of things that make someone like you necessary. Why did George call you the Outsider? Is it because you fight monsters from Outside?”
“Partly,” I said. “But mostly because the life I lead keeps me outside of normal society. I can’t talk about what I do, or why it’s necessary, because the truth would only frighten people.”
“You’re talking to me,” said Amanda.
“You’re coping surprisingly well. After everything that happened at the Tate tonight, most people would have run away screaming.”
“I’m not most people,” said Amanda. “When I see something new and marvellous I run toward it.”
I had to raise an eyebrow. “You think what happened tonight was marvellous?”
“Of course! It was like being handed a leading role in my very own big budget fantasy movie! Though I could have done with a stunt double at the end. I’m going to have some really colourful bruises tomorrow. If you’re very good, I might let you see them.”
“Something to look forward to,” I said.
Amanda gave me an appraising look. “Do you really think George will destroy that painting?”
“No,” I said. “His Department never gives up on anything they think might prove useful in the future.”
“What use could they possibly have for a painting that eats people?”
“To eat something even more dangerous.”
“You think that’s likely?”
I shrugged. “My world isn’t all marvels and wonders. Sometimes it’s monsters and horrors.”
“There are bound to be questions if ‘The Faerie War’ just disappears from the Tate,” said Amanda. “Hugh put a lot of money into publicizing the new Richard Dadd masterpiece.”
“Oh, ‘The Faerie War’ will be back on the wall in a week or so,” I said. “Along with a plausible excuse for its absence. George’s people are probably already hard at work producing a convincing copy. They’ve done it before, with other works of art too dangerous to be allowed out in public.”
“Really?” said Amanda, widening her eyes and smiling bewitchingly. “What other paintings?”
“Sorry,” I said, refusing to be bewitched. “Not all my secrets are mine to tell.”
Amanda shrugged. “How did you get to be the Outsider? Did you have to attend a school with a sorting hat, or draw a sword from a stone?”
“Are you sure you’re not a reporter?” I said. “I’m really not looking for publicity.”
“I’m just interested in you,” said Amanda.
“That covers a lot of ground,” I said.
“I can believe six impossible things before breakfast and still not lose my appetite,” Amanda said happily.
“I can believe that,” I said. “If I tell you all about me, will you tell me all about you?”
“Of course not!” Amanda said brightly. “But I will tell you just enough to keep you fascinated. So, how did you become the Outsider?”
“It’s all about duty,” I said. “There has always been an Outsider in my family.”
Amanda cocked her head to one side. “Like your father? I heard George mention him. What kind of a man was he?”
“Hard working. We didn’t see much of him, while I was growing up.”
“Did you inherit the position as eldest son?”
“No,” I said. “I inherited the Sight, that allows me to See all the hidden mysteries of the world. Ghosts from the past, solutions to present problems, and warnings of bad things to come. Only one person in each generation has the Sight, and they get the job. Whether they want it or not.”
“And you didn’t want it?”
“I saw what the job did to my father, and my family. And yet, here I am.”
“You’re being very open, Jack,” said Amanda, smiling easily. “I was worried I’d have to get you drunk first, but you’ve barely touched that second glass.”
“And you’ve barely touched yours,” I said. “I notice things like that.”
“Really?” Amanda said lightly. “Why would you need to?”
“Because I always have to be on my guard. There are people who don’t approve of what I do.”
“But you’re humanity’s protector! Who could object to that?”
“Treasure hunters, seekers after forbidden knowledge, and people dumb enough to serve forces from Outside. If they could only See what they’re worshipping, they’d throw up in their souls.”
Amanda nodded slowly. “So . . . you’ve always been alone? There’s never been anyone special in your life?”
“I decided a long time ago that I wouldn’t inflict my life on anyone I actually cared about.”
“But . . . That’s so sad!”
“That’s my life.”
“What about your family?”
“I’m good to my family. I don’t go home much.” I smiled, to take the sting out of the old joke. “I don’t want them to see how much the job has changed me.”
“They coped with your father’s absences . . . ”
“No, they didn’t,” I said. “Change the subject.”
“Tell me more about the unexploded supernatural bombs,” said Amanda.
I launched into one of my prepared speeches, for when I have to explain myself to local authority figures who didn’t get the memo.
“History isn’t what most people think it is. Our view of the past is always changing, as new facts and interpretations come to light. But there’s more to it than that. History is like a palimpsest, one of those old manuscripts where the original text was erased and a new one written on top. Sometimes parts of the original text show through, stubborn remnants from a forgotten era. Our entire existence was overwritten, so that the original history of magic and monsters could be replaced with a sane and rational world.”
“And you think that was a good thing?” said Amanda. “Replacing magic with science?”
“Of course! Magic is crazy and unpredictable, and most people have no defence against it.”
“Like the thing that got into the painting?” said Amanda. She was leaning forward again, staring at me intensely.
“There are forces in the universe that want humanity dead and gone,” I said carefully. “And they’re always searching for a weakness in the walls of the world.”
Amanda just nodded. Which was interesting.
“You haven’t explained what these supernatural bombs are, exactly.”
“Flotsam and jetsam from the way things used to be, washed up on the shores of the present. Supernatural land mines from forgotten wars, still waiting for a chance to do their worst long after their original purpose became meaningless. It’s my job to make them safe.”
“I thought you said magic was lost when history was rewritten?”
“Remember the palimpsest,” I said. “Some things just won’t go away.”
Amanda smiled brightly, trying to dispel my gloom with the sunshine of her gaze.
“Isn’t there any fun in your job?”
I smiled back at her, in spite of myself. “I do enjoy making the world a little bit safer every day. Taking care of all the things that pose a threat.”
“By killing them?” said Amanda.
“They’re monsters,” I said. “They’d kill us all, if they could.”
“Do you ever wonder whether they see you as the monster?”
“If the things from Outside would leave us alone, I’d be happy to leave them alone,” I said. “I like to think of myself as a man who keeps the world safe, not an executioner.”
“Of course you do,” said Amanda. “You have a good heart.”
I toasted her with my glass. “You really are very easy to talk to.”
“You’re very easy to listen to,” said Amanda. “How did you start out, as the Outsider? What was your very first mission?”
“My Sight kicked in when I was eighteen,” I said. “No warning: my inner eye just slammed all the way open and showed me the world as it really is. Which came as something of a shock. But I didn’t want to be the next Outsider. I’d seen what the job did to my father and my family. But then my father died, trying to defuse a bomb that was too much for him. And I decided that while I didn’t give a damn about being the Outsider, I did want to avenge my father’s death.”
“I thought you didn’t care much for him?”
“I didn’t. But he was still my father. Afterwards . . . I couldn’t put the burden down. These things were killing people, and their victims were always going to be someone’s father, someone’s son.”
I took a long drink. So did Amanda. I was telling her things I’d never told anyone else because I thought she, of all people, would understand.
“What happened when you took on your father’s last case?” Amanda said finally.
“The trouble with supernatural bombs is that they can explode over and over again until someone shuts them down. This one was a puzzle box, with more than three dimensions. It tried to talk to me, forcing strange buzzing words inside my head, and then it tried to kill me the same way it killed my father. By pulling me inside it and crushing me down to nothing. But I’d already anchored myself with the athame.”
“That thing does come in handy,” said Amanda.
“Oh, it does. You have no idea.”
“Why did the box try to talk to you?”
“A test. If I couldn’t understand it, that meant I didn’t belong to the people who made it, so I must be the enemy.”
“How did you destroy it?”
“Pounded it to pieces with a hammer,” I said. “It isn’t always about magical knives, or devious thinking. And it did feel good, to hear it scream.”
Amanda nodded slowly. “So . . . how much penance do you have to do, before you can believe your father would forgive you for letting him die?”
“Of course he’d forgive me,” I said. “He was my father. I don’t forgive me.”
“That doesn’t even make sense,” said Amanda.
“I know,” I said. “But it doesn’t change how I feel.”
Amanda sat back in her chair, and considered me thoughtfully. “You’re being very open with me, Jack. Even allowing for my obvious charms, I can’t believe you found it easy to bare your soul.”
“You’re not like everyone else,” I said. “You’re different.”
“That’s sweet.”
“Not really,” I said. “I can tell you these things because you already know most of them. Because you’re not human.”
All through the bar conversations went on around us, a multitude of cheerful voices rising and falling, unaware that something magical was taking her ease among them. I sat back in my chair and smiled at Amanda. I was pretty sure I could stop her if she bolted for the door, but I didn’t think that was going to happen. Amanda had gone to a lot of trouble to set up this meeting. She smiled easily at me, her eyes sparkling.
“What makes you think I’m not human, Jack? Don’t I look human?”
“I have the Sight, remember? All living things have . . . let’s call it an aura. But not you. Which can only mean you’re hiding the truth from me. So, Amanda Fielding, what are you, really? I’ve never met anyone like you before.”
“I’ll bet you say that to all the enigmas.”
“I notice you’re not denying any of this,” I said.
Amanda laughed softly. “What would be the point? I put on a pleasing face and came to London specifically to make myself known to you. Because there’s something very important that needs doing; I can’t do it without your help.”
I looked at her steadily. “Did you arrange what happened tonight?”
“I may have pointed a few people in the right direction, so that ‘The Faerie War’ would end up on display at the Tate.”
“You put people’s lives in danger!”
She didn’t flinch at the anger in my voice. “I knew you’d save them. If you were the kind of man I needed you to be.”
“What if you were wrong?”
“George would have coped. Or Miriam.”
“You haven’t answered my question,” I said. “What are you?”
“You’re not ready for that,” she said calmly.
“Then what can you tell me?”
“That we’re both in unknown territory, so we have to go slowly to make sure we don’t lose our way.” She grinned cheerfully. “You’re not going to kill me, are you, for the crime of not being human? That would be a hell of an end to our first date.”
“You’re not a monster,” I said. “Are you?”
“Not as such.”
“Why did you go to such lengths to arrange this little get-together, Amanda?”
“You said it yourself, Jack. History has been rewritten. Did you never wonder what could possibly justify such a change?”
“I’ve thought about it. I even asked George, but no one in his Department has any idea. Do you know why?”
“Think of it this way,” Amanda said carefully. “What if everything, from the very beginning of the world right up to its end, was one big Story . . . a Story so wonderful, and with such a glorious ending, that everyone would be able to look back at their lives and say, Everything we endured was worth it, to get here. But after magic was taken away the Story was compromised, derailed from its original purpose. Humanity has been crippled . . . prevented from becoming everything it should have been.”
“What does this have to do with me?” I said bluntly.
Her smile disappeared, as she held my gaze with hers.
“We are approaching the point of no return. Our last chance to restore history to its original path, bring back magic, and save the Story.”
I took a slow drink from my glass, to give me time to think.
“A Story . . . ” I said. “That implies a Storyteller.”
“Let’s start by wading into the shallows,” said Amanda. “Before we head out to where the sharks are.”
“But you do know who’s responsible for the Story?”
“We’ve met,” said Amanda. “For now, just try to accept that magic doesn’t have to be the enemy.”
“Every magical creature I’ve encountered has been a danger to humanity.”
“If you approach something as a threat, that’s how it’s going to react.”
I remembered the Light and Dark elves in the painting, driven to destroy each other by a rage and a hatred that didn’t allow any room for understanding.
“Let’s stick to the basics,” I said. “Why are you so reluctant to reveal your true nature?”
“Because I don’t want to scare you.”
I had to smile. “I don’t do scared.”
“I know,” said Amanda.
Something in the way she said put a chill in my heart.
“You want me to just trust you blindly?”
“Yes,” said Amanda.
“Not going to happen.”
“I am placing my life in the hands of someone who’s spent his life destroying things like me,” she said steadily. “I’m ready to take a leap of faith; why can’t you?”
I wanted to believe she was sincere. If only because it felt so good not to be alone, for once. I nodded slowly.
“What is it you want me to do?”
“Help me bring back the unicorns and the dragons, the elves and the giants: all the myths and legends and fairy tales that people still cling to. Because they’ve never given up on them.”
“You want to turn the clock back to when armies of peasants worked the land from dawn to dusk? Living short, hard, miserable lives, so the rich and entitled could wallow in luxury?”
“No,” said Amanda. “That’s how history is now, after the rewriting. Think about it, Jack. If you could grow a thousand-foot beanstalk from a few magic beans, why would you need peasants to raise crops? If a hen can lay golden eggs and a maiden can spin gold out of straw, who can be poor? If everyone could find their heart’s desire at the foot of a rainbow, who would be unhappy? In the magical world everyone can have their dreams come true. It’s time to bring colour back to this grim grey existence.”
She could see I was moved but not convinced, so she changed tactics. She clasped her hands together on the tabletop, and fixed me with an earnest look.
“You don’t have to commit yourself right now. Just help me get to the truth about why history was rewritten, and then decide whether the change was a good thing.”
I nodded slowly. “That does sound like something I ought to know. Where do you suggest we start?”
“With the Department For Uncanny Inquiries,” said Amanda. “They have the biggest library I know of.”
“It is supposed to be pretty impressive,” I said. “My father always thought of it as his second home. Which was a bit much, considering how little time he spent at his real home.”
“Is that why you’ve never wanted to visit the department’s headquarters?” said Amanda.
“Partly,” I said. “But mostly I just didn’t want to end up working for George. The Department is a government office, so it tends to worry more about what’s politically expedient rather than what needs doing. I’m pretty sure that’s why George is so keen to have an Outsider on his team. To be his conscience . . . or his scapegoat, if things go wrong.”
“We need to access the library,” said Amanda. “It contains knowledge and secrets even the Department doesn’t know it has.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And you know that how?”
She just grinned.
“George isn’t going to let us just help ourselves to whatever books take our fancy,” I said.
“But you’re the Outsider,” Amanda said sweetly. “He wants you under the Department’s wing. He’ll be only too happy to use the library as bait, to lure you in.”
“You’re forgetting Miriam,” I said. “She’s on track to be the next Head of the Department, and she doesn’t give a damn about the Outsider.”
“Then you’ll just have to distract her, while I search the library.”
“Me?”
“Of course,” said Amanda. “Miriam likes you.”
“No, she doesn’t!”
“Men never notice anything,” said Amanda. “She was flirting with you all the time we were at the Tate!”
“You call that flirting?”
“What would you call it?”
“Intimidation and death threats!”
“She was just trying to impress you.”
And then we both looked up as a shadow fell across our table. A tall, unnaturally thin figure was looming over us. His dark suit was defiantly old-fashioned and disturbingly dusty, as though it had been kept in storage for a really long time. Something about the man suggested he might have been too. His face was inhumanly gaunt, the colourless skin stretched taut like ancient parchment. His eyes were deep set and unblinking, and his smile showed more teeth than humour. He was a figure of menace, and he gloried in it.
No one else in the bar paid him any attention. He knew how to move unnoticed in the world.
“This is one of the legendary Men In Black,” I said to Amanda. “Don’t look impressed, he’ll only give himself airs. He’s really nothing more than a glorified messenger boy. What name are you using this week, Man In An Ill-fitting Suit?”
“Call me Mr. Slender,” he said, in a harsh grating voice designed to alarm and intimidate.
“You haven’t gone back to those Slender Man sites, have you? They are so last decade.”
He bent almost in two as he sat down with us. His joints made loud creaking noises, as though only operating under protest. I’ve never been sure whether the Men In Black are recruited or constructed. Or possibly just grown in oversized flower pots, with plenty of manure. Mr. Slender nodded to Amanda, and she nodded back.
“You two know each other?” I said.
“We move in the same circles,” said Amanda.
“There is such a thing as too much mystery in a woman,” I said. I fixed Mr. Slender with my best hard stare. “Why are you here, Spooky Boy?”
“You were never supposed to meet her,” said Mr. Slender. “I have been sent to instruct both of you to go your separate ways. And you, Outsider, are forbidden to interfere with the way things are.”
“Or?” I said.
He fixed me with his unblinking gaze. “Or, there will be consequences. Don’t meddle in things beyond your comprehension, Outsider. Just do what you were designed to do.”
I looked at him sharply. “What do you mean, designed?”
“Did you never wonder why the world needs an Outsider?” said Amanda. She wasn’t smiling any more. “After history was rewritten, those responsible decided they needed a janitor. To clear up the mess they’d left behind.”
Mr. Slender ignored her, his cold gaze locked on mine. “You are not to listen to her, Outsider. She is dangerous.”
“She must be,” I said. “You’ve never been dumb enough to threaten me before. Do you know what she really is?”
“No, he doesn’t,” said Amanda. “He only thinks he does.”
“Who is sending me this message?” I said to the Man In Black.
“No one you’d know,” said Mr. Slender. “And no one you need to know. Just do as you’re told.”
“Really not going to happen,” I said.
Mr. Slender’s smile stretched unnaturally wide, revealing a hell of a lot of pointed teeth. “Perhaps I should break a few of your bones . . . make you scream. Just to underline the serious nature of my instructions.”
“I think it’s time you were leaving, Slender Boy,” I said calmly. “Because if you don’t, I will open my inner eye and See exactly who and what you are, and what it would take to unmake you.”
The Man In Black rose jerkily to his feet, turned stiffly, and strode out of the bar. I kept a watchful eye on him all the way to the door, and then turned back to Amanda. She was looking at me thoughtfully.
“Were you bluffing, Jack?”
“I’ll never tell. But you should be grateful. That messenger boy with delusions of thuggery convinced me where you couldn’t. If someone doesn’t want me to know something that badly, I’m pretty sure I want to know what it is. So let us go visit George, and ransack his amazing library.”
Amanda smiled at me dazzlingly. “Let’s.”