by Amy Cross
"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 g
etting 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 Darius 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.
Book 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."
"The game remains a closely-guarded secret," Alice adds, "known only to those who play. However, if one knows where to look, one can find small mentions of its players in the history books. One of Lady Red's jobs is to know and to record the history of the game, and to ensure that when it finally ends, there will be a document that explains what happened."
"I had other mothers, though," the old man continues. "The first one I remember was a kind woman named Elizabeth -"
"Don't use her real name!" Alice says firmly.
"Fine," the old man says, clearly a little annoyed. "She was one of the women who assumed the role of Lady Red. She was kind to me, but she was constantly asking me if I thought she was a monster. She never seemed happy with any of my answers. In fact, over time, she seemed to become more and more worried that I saw her in a negative light. I never understood the root of her worries, but no matter what I told her, she never accepted the answer. It wasn't until she was on her death-bed that she seemed happy."
"The details are all in the official record," Alice tells me.
"Lady Red herself is a persona," Thomas Pope continues. "Every woman who assumes the role starts out with her own ideas and her own personality, but they all become the same person in the end. It's the same with Mr. Blue and Mr. White. Over time, the Lady Red identity asserts itself like a ghost, forcing its occupant to accept the need for change. Eventually, the new Lady Red is basically the same as the old one, and it's in this way that the game proceeds. There are occasional blips, but for the most part, the pattern is preserved from one generation to the next."
"Why are you telling me this?" I ask.
"Because you need to know," Alice replies, with a hint of sadness in her voice. "You need to understand the history of the game."
"I need to see Mark," I tell her. "That's what I need to do."
"Patience," she says. "Your feelings for him are very strong, aren't they? Perhaps a little too strong, but there are ways to fix that. Are you aware, for instance, that Mark has been manipulating you for a very long time? Do you think that perhaps he's more dangerous than he appears? What, for instance, became of his previous lady friend? She's still missing, is she not?"
"Mark's not a killer," I reply firmly.
"Are you sure about that?" She pauses. "How do you know that he didn't slice her throat? How do you know that he didn't take your friend Jessica and wring her neck, before dropping her body into the river? How do you know that your mother is really on holiday?" She smiles. "How do you know that it was really a heart attack that killed your father?"
"Mark didn't do any of that," I say, trying to contain my anger.
"But how do you know?" she asks. "Chrissie Briggs. Jessica. Your mother. Your father. Four people. It might interest you to know that two of them were killed by Mark. I'd rather not say which two right now, but I'm sure you can work it out eventually." She pauses. "Mark has a dark side, Elly. The most dangerous men are those who are able to conceal their true feelings. Have you never noticed the way that Mark sometimes seems to drift away from a conversation, as if his mind has become focused on another matter? Whereas Mr. White is traditionally a very violent man, Mr. Blue is always more devious. Mark is no exception. He cuts through lives like the blade of a knife, and he leaves behind only blood and misery. He might have been a good person once, when I first met him, but as the persona of Mr. Blue has asserted himself, the real Mark Douglas has become lost. He's a ghost, rattling around in his own body."
"You're a liar," I tell her.
"Please," Thomas Pope says, interrupting us. "There isn't much time."
"We'll continue our discussion later," Alice says with a smile.
"You must listen to Lady Red," Pope says. "She speaks the truth. She has always acted as a balance to the other forces in the game, and her voice must be heard above the rest of the chaos. My own mother occupied this role once, and if she had not become weak and fallen for my father's charms, the game might very well have ended all those years ago. She was so close, but she didn't realize that the ultimate trap was closing around her. Instead of achieving victory, she gave birth to a child whose very existence stood as a permanent reminder of her failure. I don't blame her, but I pity her and I can't help but wish things had been different."
"Regrets are a part of the game," Alice says. "We all have them. I sometimes wonder what my life would have been like if I hadn't allowed myself to be seduced into the game. I always wanted to have children, but such things are impossible now. All that's left now is the dust of shattered dreams."
"I never met my parents," Pope continues. "Not that I remember, anyway. They died when I was very young, and I was raised within the game. As you can no doubt imagine, it was a difficult childhood, and I struggled a great deal to understand
my place in the world. Fortunately, I was looked after by successive generations of players, although I myself chose to never become a full participant in the game. I preferred to remain on the outside, watching and learning. You can't imagine how painful it has been, to see so many good people pass through the game and become bitter and twisted. Ultimately, they all died. But you..."
I wait for him to finish the sentence. "What about me?" I ask eventually. The truth is, I don't understand why I'm caught in the middle of all this. There's nothing special about me, and yet it's as if these people refuse to leave me alone.
"You're different," he says. "You're strong, and you make choices that others would consider to be utterly foolish. You should already have run screaming from this room. You should have grabbed a knife and defended yourself. You should never have agreed to keep throwing yourself into the game, but here you are, unable to tear yourself away. You saw a man get shot tonight, Elly. A man you claim to love."
"I do love him," I whisper.
"No," he replies, "you don't. You think you do. To your very core, you believe yourself to be in love, but it's simply not true. Your emotions have been twisted and contorted until they fit the pattern that you expect, but the effort must be very tiring. Would it not feel better if you just admitted that this supposed love is in fact hollow?" He waits for me to reply. "You don't love Mark Douglas," he adds eventually. "You never did, and you never can. You can't love anyone. It's one of the reasons that you're so perfect for the game. You play at love, but it'll never happen. Not now, and not ever."
"There's no way you can know that," I tell him. "I love Mark, and -"
"You don't act like a woman in love," he says firmly, interrupting me. "I can see it in your eyes, Elly. It's a role you're playing. You've spent so much time with Mark, you assume that you must be in love, but in truth he's merely an acquaintance. You're not the first person who has ever fooled themselves into believing that they're in love, and you won't be the last, but it's always a very sad thing to see."
