by Amy Cross
"And then what?" She waits for me to reply. "You don't have a clue what to do, do you? You're lost, Elly. You're in a state of chaos, and you don't have a plan. You want to save Mark, but you don't even know what you're going to save him from. Do you think inspiration is just going to pop into your mind and help you? Do you believe that things are black and white, and that in some way you're going to save a good man from the clutches of an evil game? If only things were so simple." She pauses again. "Besides, don't you want to know how you're doing in the game? Aren't you curious?"
"I'm not in the game," I say firmly. "Not anymore."
"That would be a pity," she replies. "After all, you've passed the second stage. You've come so far. Only one woman has ever got to this point before, even though so many have tried."
"I don't understand any of this," I tell her.
"You will."
I shake my head.
"Oh, but you will. Granted, the heart attack was unexpected, but it just showed that you truly were pushed to your limits. Perhaps you share some congenital heart defect with your late father. We shall certainly have to ensure that this is taken into account from now on, but that should be a trifling matter. Mr. White might have been a little too enthusiastic, but again, that's a common theme where he's concerned. Rest assured, he has been disciplined, and he will not make the same mistake again. I wish he had been put in his place sooner, but we must simply accept what has happened so far and try to learn from our past mistakes. But you survived, Elly, and you returned to Mr. Blue -"
"Mark," I say bitterly. "His name is Mark."
"You returned to Mr. Blue," she continues, "or at least the former Mr. Blue, and you showed that you're strong enough. And now you've come to a point in the game that has only ever been reached by one woman before you. This is the moment of choice, but first you must understand your options, and you must see that the game exists outside of regular civilization. It's a small, very personal civilization that exists between the strands of the ragged, depraved modern world. In the game, there's a code, and there's a set of rules that we must all follow. Do you think that the rest of the world is so very different? It's just one set of rules compared to another."
"I want to see Mark," I say again.
"You'll see him," she replies. "First, however, there's someone I want you to meet. Someone who is very, very keen to meet you. He has been kept away from all other participants, but now he wishes to meet the girl who has come closer to victory than any in the history of the game. I think he'd probably given up hope that this moment would ever come, but you've delivered something very special, Elly. Something very powerful and important."
"I don't -" I start to say, before hearing a noise nearby. Turning, I see that someone is walking through the dark hallway, pushing what appears to be a man in a wheelchair. My first thought is that this must be Mark, but after a moment I see that it's an old man, and that the man behind the chair is none other than Mr. White. The merest sight of him makes me feel ill and reminds me of that terrible night that led to my heart attack. Despite everything that has happened, the only part of this whole mess that makes me feel truly horrified is the memory of that man's hands on my body, and the thought of all the things we did together: his hands on my breasts; his tongue against my clitoris; and, worst of all, his arms holding me tight while his machines brought me to orgasm. I feel as if I allowed myself to be drawn into a game within a game, and I exposed my innermost fears in the process. There are things we did that even Mark hasn't tried with me yet.
"Thank you," Alice says politely as Mr. White parks the wheelchair. "That will be all."
"I'd prefer to stay," he says, clearly struggling to contain his irritation. "If -"
"You know the rule," Alice continues, putting him in his place. "You have no role to play in this exchange, Mr. White, so you must withdraw."
"I should -"
"You have no role to play," she says again, more firmly this time. "Do you really want to make a fuss in front of our esteemed guest? If so, I have seriously misunderstood the nature of your character. You must withdraw at once, Mr. White, and assume the position that was set for you. Any other action, even an attempt to argue with the decision, will result in disciplinary moves being made against you."
Muttering something under his breath, Mr. White turns and leaves the room.
"Such a sad fool, don't you think?" Alice says, watching him walk away. "His machines are an unwelcome addition to the game. I allowed him to experiment with them, but I feel they have no place here. I suppose I made a mistake. It's so hard to know who to trust. Each participant in the game brings his or her own skill-set. Some are more useful than others. Some help to improve the game, and some bring it into danger. Some are downright dangerous and need to be replaced."
"I don't want to talk about Mr. White," I say firmly, trying to ignore the feeling of nausea in my stomach. "I don't want to even remember that he exists."
"But you gave yourself to him willingly," she replies.
I nod.
"Then you can't have too many complaints," she continues. "Apart from the small matter of the heart attack, of course. I envy you, in a way. To go so far over your own limits must be an exhilarating feeling."
"It's still not something I want to be reminded about," I tell her.
"The game is old," Alice says, turning to me. "So old, in fact, that no-one has ever experienced its entire span. There is one person, however, who has seen more than the rest of us, and to whom we must demur at times of crisis. A man born of the game, with its rules and requirements coursing through his veins, lifting his mind and pushing him ever onward. Such a development was never intended to be part of the game, yet once it was absorbed, it became integral to the whole experience. It's strange how the universe can sometimes bring up such wonderful surprises."
I look over at the knives again.
"You can wait," Alice says, with a hint of sorrow in her voice. "There's no need to make your escape yet, Elly. Do you somehow imagine that you might be able to fight your way out of here, cutting and slashing at us as you leave? It's a fine image, but I doubt it would work. For one thing, you're not the type. For another, Mr. White still has his uses, and one of those is that he's very good at standing guard. Believe me, he's more than ready for any escape attempt you might try. If you insist on giving it a go, I'll understand, but please have a little patience first. At least have the good grace to speak to Mr. Pope after he's waited for such a long time."
"Mr. Pope?" I ask, turning back to her.
The old man looks up at me with tired, ancient eyes that seem filled with a kind of milky white substance. His face is lined with wrinkles and he has no more than a few patches of wispy hair on his otherwise bald head. When he opens his mouth, I see that he seems to have no teeth, and his jaw is shaking uncontrollably as he frowns, apparently attempting to get a better view of me.
"I want you to meet Mr. Thomas Pope," Alice says, stepping back. "Son of Jonathan Pope and Lady Henrietta deHavilland. He was born within the game, one hundred and twelve years ago. He has seen so much, and now it seems that by a miracle, he might live long enough to be present at the game's conclusion. I believe he has something to say to you. He has waited so very long for this moment. Now that the game is on the verge of ending, I rather think it's time for him to speak."
Jonathan Pope
1901
"No!" I shout, trying to twist my way free of Mr. White's grip. Unable to get away, however, I'm pushed into the back of the carriage, and Mr. Blue quickly wraps a rope around my body.
"There's no point struggling," Lady Red says as she sits opposite, cradling Thomas in her arms. "You'll just waste whatever precious energy remains in your body." She turns and looks out the window for a moment. "Oh. Look. The fire has taken hold nicely."
Grabbing my head, Mr. White turns my face so that I can see the flames that are already roaring through the King's Arms, with Wolff and John the Pig having been left to
burn. It's shocking to see the pub's structure being destroyed, and people are already being drawn out from nearby buildings to marvel at the inferno. The whole street seems to have been lit up, and the fire is in danger of spreading to several nearby premises. Although I'm not a religious man by nature, I can't help but see the fire as a way of burning the King's Arms away entirely, as if all the horrors of that place have finally combusted. Still, despite everything that happened there, it was a home away from home for men such as me, and it pains me to think that Darius Wolff was felled by such cruel hands.
"London will be better off without that place," Lady Red says. "It was nothing but a palace of sin and intrigue. I heard an interesting statistic once. A man was speaking at the Royal Observatory, and he claimed that every criminal in the entire city has at some stage passed through the doors of the King's Arms. I'm sure he was exaggerating a little, but I still find it rather interesting that such a place could possibly exist. They say the police were scared to go near the building." She pauses, before turning to me and smiling. "How ironic that in serving our own purpose, we have inadvertently performed a service to the Metropolitan force. I'm sure we'll reap the karmic benefits at some future point."
"You're nothing but murderers," I spit at her.
"Nothing but murderers?" she replies. "Well, I should think that a murderer is a fine thing to be, if it means that one gets what one wants. The world is filled with obnoxious people standing in the way of worthwhile pursuits, so I don't see why one shouldn't bump them off now and again."
"We're ready," Mr. White says.
"Let's get underway," Lady Red replies. "It's been a long night, and I have certain plans."
"The roads to the river should be fairly empty," Mr. White tells her.
"I dare say," she replies, "but we shan't be going to the river. I'd rather take Mr. Pope to the Castleton. There's some unfinished business to which we must attend. I want him to see and learn certain things before he dies. Simply depositing his corpse in the river would be an affront to the very real and very important role that he has played in the history of the game."
As Mr. White walks around to the front of the carriage and climbs up into the seat, I can only stare in horror at Thomas, and watch as he looks up at Lady Red. It's almost impossible to believe that my son could be in the arms of such a heinous creature.
"Give him to me!" I say, still trying to find a way to get loose from the ropes that Mr. Blue has wrapped tightly around my body.
"The child?" Lady Red pauses. "Were you seriously planning to raise him all by yourself, Mr. Pope? Did you not think that he needs a mother figure? A child who grows up motherless is doomed to all sorts of horrors in later life. Why, is it not the case, Mr. Pope, that you yourself were raised without a female influence? I find it hard to believe that you would wish to put your own child through the same depravities that you endured, especially since..." She smiles. "Well, I don't wish to be indelicate, but you haven't exactly turned out as a great example of manhood, have you?"
"You're in no position to judge," I reply.
"I've heard a great deal about the child's mother," she continues. "By all accounts, Lady Henrietta was a very busy woman, and rather prone to political agitation. I must say, she was very brave to draw attention to herself in that way. I think I shall be a very different Lady Red. I shall move in the shadows and try to keep myself away from the spotlight. I have a great deal of respect for Lady Henrietta's early work, but it seems as if she rather let everything fall apart toward the end. The heart is the most dangerous organ of all. It can force the brain to make the most fantastic mental contortions in support of some rather shocking prospects. Perhaps there's a lesson for us all in this mess. Love corrupts, and absolute love corrupts absolutely."
As the carriage starts to move along the street, I can't take my gaze away from Thomas, who seems perfectly content to be held by this monstrous woman. If I can't get him away from her, my son will undoubtedly come to love her and will perhaps even believe her to be his mother.
"Are you sure you want to go to the Castleton?" Mr. Blue asks after a moment. "There will be people there. We might be seen."
"We won't be seen," Lady Red replies calmly. "We'll use the entrance at the rear, and the hotel's management know not to ask any questions. After all, they don't want to lose their positions, do they?"
"But tradition states -"
"Traditions change," she says firmly. "While it has always been the case that we place bodies in the river, on this occasion we shall be doing something a little more inventive. Mr. Pope has earned a special honor, and I would never dream of denying him his place in history." She looks down at Thomas. "Besides, the child should be shown the true horrors of his father's demise. Even though he's only a few hours old, I'm sure some aspect of these moments will remain imprinted upon his mind. He might not ever be able to put them into words, but surely he'll have some kind of vague memory of these sensations." She stares at Thomas for a moment, almost as if she's mesmerized by him. "Imagine his mind," she continues, "forming even now, taking in new senses and new impressions. A blank slate. A child born into the game."
"Poor little bastard," Mr. Blue mutters.
"He'll be fine," Lady Red continues. "This precious little man will grow up to be strong and powerful. Why, we might be in the company of a future prime minister, or perhaps a leader of industry. So much potential, despite his rather unfortunate entry into the world. Still, there's plenty of time for him to break free of those bonds. I can assure you, Mr. Pope, that Thomas will not suffer. He will have a long and happy life. I'm even going to allow him to keep the name that you chose for him. He will be Thomas Pope for the rest of his days. Perhaps I'm being a little sentimental, but it pleases me to think that he will have your surname. Whether he sees it as a mark of honor or as a disgrace, however, is another matter."
"If you hurt him," I tell her, struggling to get free, "I'll make you pay. I'll rip your heart out, even if it's the last thing I ever do!"
"Calm down," she replies. "You can't make anyone do anything, Mr. Pope. At this stage in proceedings, you should just be thankful that we haven't killed you yet." She pauses. "I'm merely interested in the possibility of raising the boy within the parameters of the game. He'll be looked after, of course, but his entire personality will be shaped by the rules that we provide to him. His perception of the world will be... unique. Don't you think that your son could become a fascinating experiment, Mr. Pope? After all, every child is twisted and warped by its parents, so why should dear little Thomas be any different? At least in his case, there will be a purpose to all the damage that's done. Most children are just left to flail in chaos. I can assure you, I'll make sure that Thomas has only the very best nightmares."
"Leave him alone!" I shout, trying to get over to her but falling, instead, and landing hard on the floor of the carriage.
"He's getting annoying," Mr. Blue says, with clear irritation in his voice.
"He's upset," Lady Red replies calmly. "He worries about his son. I dare say he fears that Thomas will know nothing of his parents, but that simply isn't the case. I'm absolutely determined to ensure that Thomas knows all about them both. Every sin. Every mistake. Every cruel move. I suppose I'll tell him the good things, too, although there aren't many of those. The child must be told the truth and allowed to make his own mind up. He will be spared no detail."
"It's the fate of all men to know their fathers' failings eventually," Mr. Blue says. "I still remember the day I realized my own father was nothing more than a cancerous old goat. Still, such moments only serve to make us stronger, do they not?"
While they talk, I try to get free from the rope. I can feel the knot above my hands, and I figure that perhaps I can pull it loose and then strike out at these fools. I will only have one chance, of course, so I must ensure that I make the most of the opportunity. So far, this new Mr. Blue seems to be an effective operator, having already achieved the considerable task of killing D
arius Wolff. Still, I believe I can overpower him. Lady Red should also be easy, and then there's the unknown quantity of Mr. White. In the midst of all this, I shall also have to ensure that Thomas is safe. When the -
Before I can get loose, I feel a sharp pain as Mr. Blue presses the heel of his boot against my neck.
"Don't be trying anything," he says firmly. "You won't get free, so don't even bother. If you so much as look like you're going to make a break for it, I'll skewer that baby with a dagger."
"You'll do no such thing!" Lady Red shouts at him.
"I was merely -"
"The child is sacrosanct," she continues. "No violence, and no threats of violence, are to surround him. You'll have to find other ways to keep Mr. Pope in check during his final minutes, but don't let me ever hear you say such a callous and cruel thing about poor little Thomas."
As the carriage continues to make its way through the dark streets, I realize that I still have a chance to get Thomas away from these people. At some point, we're going to reach our destination, and that's when I'll strike. These three fools, despite their confidence, are new to the game, and I can only pray that I have the experience necessary to overcome them. I killed Vincent D'Oyly many years ago, and he was a far more formidable foe than these three imposters. Although I'm weak, I'm filled with the knowledge that failure would leave my son consigned to be raised by this grotesque family of monsters. Whatever else happens, he must be saved, even if I am to lose my life in the process. I swear to God that by the time this night is over, Thomas and I will once again be free.
Part Eight
Dramatis Personae
Elly
Today
"My father was a common criminal," Thomas Pope says slowly, his voice sounding tired and ancient. "My mother, meanwhile, was a dilettante and professional rabble-rouser. Jonathan Pope's name has been lost to history, but some accounts of London society make mention of my mother. She as believed by some to be a very extreme political figure, possibly even dangerous, and there was those who wondered aloud if she might have been assassinated. No-one knows the truth, of course. Apart from us."
