nothing; it simply assuages your pearly white consciences. There is still no place for me in this time, no purpose to my existence. I will suffocate under the sheer weight of good deeds the seventies will see.'
Time for phase two. 105 allowed the thought to radiate out in the direction of Mother Courage, safely ensconced in her London flat. There was nothing else he could do for now. She was the only one who could move objects through time and space. He only hoped that the owner of the particular object he had in mind was in a really good mood.
'Well? Have you nothing to say, Señor?'
Pitch stamped his feet in childish temper and pressed a palm against the air above one of the sections of the portal, but the forcefield they had erected held firm. 105 doubted it would do so for long if Pitch genuinely decided that he wished to escape, so the strange wailing sound which filled the air just then was especially welcome.
They all turned in the direction of the sound, in time to witness a large red rectangular shape materialise from the fresh air and crash into the snow. Unlike travel through the portal, there was no obvious explanation for this sudden appearance, nor for the cultured voice which shouted 'This doesn't look much like Monte Carlo to me, you insane old baggage' shortly before the whatever it was shot behind a nearby mini mountain of ice and was lost to view. Seconds later the sound of metal striking frozen water could be heard quite clearly, followed by cursing in several different languages. 105 grabbed Pitch by the arm and hurried in the direction of the swearing.
When Night had explained what 105 intended to do, the others agreed that they could be in for a long wait, and so were all the more surprised when the wrestler and the demon returned within five minutes. As they rounded the corner of the glacier, the same wailing sound which had preceded the earlier apparition could be heard in the distance. A final, querulous 'what the bloody hell was all that about then?' floated towards them on the polar winds and then was gone, leaving only the soft tramp of the two men to disturb the now still northern air.
'Very well,' Pitch was saying to 105 as they reached the camp. 'It looks like the 1970s won't be quite the lovefest I envisaged. There's some juicy stuff in the first half, but what I'm really looking forward to is this punk thing. That looks like it's going to be a lot of fun. But that still leaves the question of my becoming an animal again in a decade or two. I'd rather rejoin that fat old duffer now' – he nodded in the direction of Nick, who glowered back at him - 'than spend the rest of my days getting more and more bestial. And you say that he's not willing to be rejoined anyway.'
'No. No. No.' said Nick, crossing his arms in front of himself. 'I serve a valuable purpose and I am most definitely not jeopardising that purpose by letting some self-pitying demon jump on-board as though I were some sort of taxicab!'
105 had feared this would be a stumbling block. He had no intention of forcing Nick to merge with Pitch, even if he could. But unleashing an increasingly vicious and animalistic Pitch back into the world wasn't an option either. Perhaps the demon could come to live with him, where he could be watched over and helped as his condition worsened? He looked round for Sheila and Rodrigo – they would need to be consulted, after all.
I think I have a solution.
The voice in his head echoed as though more than one person was speaking. The two Mothers had been together for so long that they often finished one another's sentences or, as in this case, shared one between them. 'Please tell us then,' he said aloud, looking directly at Mother Night.
The portal, said one of the voices. We retrieved it from rather an unpleasant man at the beginning of the century and in doing so prevented him from bringing some fairly nasty demons into this world. But we were unable to do anything about the innocent human agent he used as a conduit to the other realms. She was – is – as pure as Snow White and has remained in a deathly trance from that day to this from which she will never be awoken. No handsome prince has ever come for her, nor ever will – but perhaps a slightly less conventional Prince might, if not awaken her, at least become one with her, setting her free? Combine her essence with Pitch instead of our old friend Nick's? She would not be aware of anything, but that is probably for the best…
105 was unsure which of the ladies had spoken, but it didn't matter. He felt sure that this was a solution which would be satisfactory to everyone. He took Pitch to one side and explained. The grin which split the demon's face was enough to tell everyone in the camp that, whatever 105 had suggested, it would – as Cupid put it - do the trick.
The two men came back to their friends. Pitch and Nick put their heads together and were soon laughing and crying, remembering worlds now long gone. Mother Night was deep in mental conversation with Mother Courage, an unconscious smile lighting up her face. Gwydion and some of the others had started a fire in the center of the clearing and, from nowhere, the Welshman had caused an entire pig on a spit to appear, filling the hollow with delicious smells and heat. 105 took Sheila's string from Cupid and murmured 'we should invite everyone to ours for a Christmas celebration next year.' Sheila bobbed her agreement with delight.
Rodrigo started suddenly. ‘I just realised, Señor! Santa. Satan. How come nobody has ever noticed that before!’
Pitch laughed. ‘Pure co-incidence, my small friend,’ he said. ‘So much is, I find. Come on – let's get some of that pork before it's all gone!' He put one arm round the boy and the other round Nick and walked down to the fire.
'Merry Christmas, everyone' he said.
Senor 105 and the Secret Santa Page 12
