Faerie Wars 02 - The Purple Emperor

by Brennan, Herbie

  'Over here he's just an old-age pensioner who used to rob banks. They can put him in jail all right. He's in a cell at Nutgrove Police Station.'

  'I don't have time for this,' Blue snapped. 'We'll have to get him out.'

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Henry stared around him miserably.

  'Well, where is it?' Blue demanded.

  'It must be round here somewhere,' Henry said. They were in Nutgrove Street, for heaven's sake. Nutgrove Police Station had to be in Nutgrove Street.

  'Henry,' Blue hissed. 'I have to find Mr Fogarty. I have to get him back to the Realm.'

  'Yes, I know,' Henry said.

  What he didn't know was what they were going to do when they found Nutgrove Station. Blue seemed to have the idea they would just march in and demand Mr Fogarty's release.

  'Let's try down there,' he suggested.

  'We've already been down there,' Blue said. But she followed him as he moved off.

  'Blue,' Henry said, 'what's happened?'

  Blue's tone softened. 'I don't really know yet. But something's going on. My father's body has disappeared and I think there's a plot to kill Pyrgus. Pyrgus sent me to find Mr Fogarty - we need him.' She hesitated, then added, 'It would be nice to have you as well.'

  Henry felt a flush begin to crawl along the back of his neck. 'Do what I can,' he mumbled, wondering just what he might mean by that. He looked about him in a moment of confusion and saw the police station down a side street. 'Oh, there it is!' he said brightly; and the words were swiftly followed by the thought, What are we going to do now?

  'Henry,' Blue said, 'what exactly is a police station?'

  Henry looked at her, then realised there was no way she could know. 'It's ... it's sort of, like police headquarters. I mean, not the overall police headquarters -that's in Scotland Yard or somewhere. It's sort of headquarters for a district..'

  'And all the police live there?'

  'I don't think they actually live there. It's more like an office they come into.'

  'And your police are like our police in the Realm?' Blue said. 'They flog you if you do something wrong and cut off your hand if you're caught stealing? Unless you're a noble, of course.'

  'No, I don't think they do that,' Henry said uncertainly.

  'Why not? It's pretty silly not to, isn't it?' Blue said. She set off down the side street.

  Henry realised he was standing on his own and ran down the side street after her. He caught Blue by the elbow. 'What are you going to do?' he asked urgently. 'You can't just swan in and order them to let Mr Fogarty go.' He caught the expression on her face and stopped himself adding, You're not Princess Royal here, you know.

  'I wasn't planning to swan anywhere,' Blue said coldly. She looked into his face and relented, giving a little smile. 'It's all right, Henry - I have some cones with me.'

  'Cones?' All he could think of was ice cream, but somehow he didn't believe that was what she meant.

  'Spell cones,' Blue said.

  Henry felt his jaw drop. 'You're not going to ... you're not going to ... ?'

  'Use magic?' Blue prompted. 'Yes, I am.'

  'You can't!'

  'Why not?'

  Why not? Why not? Henry cast around for a reason and couldn't think of one, except that using magic in a police station was probably illegal. Or would be if the police believed in it. Magic was all very well in the Realm where everybody used it, but using magic here -on anybody, let alone a policeman - was just something you didn't -

  'What sort of magic?' he asked in a small voice.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Henry felt peculiar. In fact he thought he might be going to be sick. Everything around him looked swimmy and when he moved it was like trying to push against treacle.

  'I don't feel so good,' he said. His voice echoed in his head like a hollow gong.

  'You'll get used to it,' Blue told him briskly. 'Just follow me.' She moved to the front door of the police station and pushed it firmly. When nothing happened, she turned to look accusingly at Henry. 'This door's locked.'

  Henry was trying to remember the last thing he'd eaten. He had an idea he might be about to see it again quite soon. 'They do that now,' he said, 'because of terrorists or something. You can't just walk in. You have to ring the bell and speak into that grille thing when they answer.'

  'But if I speak into the grille thing won't they know somebody's here?'

  Henry looked at her, wondering if he was going to be able to stand upright much longer. 'That's the whole point,' he said. 'So they can let you in.'

  'But I don't want them to know I'm here,' Blue said.

  It was all getting too much. Henry's brain described a slow, liquid circle inside his skull. 'Then how are we going to get in?' he managed.

  The door opened and a man walked through without glancing at either Blue or Henry. Blue stuck out her foot to stop the door. 'Come on!' she hissed and slipped inside. Henry stared after her stupidly for a moment, then followed as the door began to close.

  They were in a waiting area with lino on the floor, chairs at one end and a counter at the other. A uniformed sergeant was standing behind the counter. Behind him a young woman with very short black hair was typing at a desk. Three of the chairs were occupied - two by an elderly couple, the third by a middle-aged man trying unsuccessfully to look like Elvis Presley. Nobody paid the slightest attention to Blue or Henry.

  'Right,' Blue said briskly. 'We'd better try to find Mr Fogarty.'

  'We can ask the Desk Sergeant,' Henry suggested. All he really wanted was to get out, go home and - hopefully - die.

  Blue looked at him strangely through the fog that was swirling round him. 'Are you trying to be funny?'

  Henry shook his head. 'No. Why?' He reached out and gripped the back of a chair. The head shake had been a big mistake.

  'What's the point of being invisible if we just walk up to the desk and ask?'

  The fog cleared a little. Henry stared at her, open-mouthed. 'Invisible?' he echoed.

  'What do you think that cone was for?'

  'We can't be invisible,' Henry said. 'I can see you perfectly.' The perfectly bit wasn't quite true since his vision was still swimming, but he could certainly see her.

  'Well, of course you can see me. I can see you and you can see your hands and I can see my feet because we're both invisible,' Blue said in the tone of one talking to an idiot child, 'and try to keep your voice down - the spell dampens sound, but if you make too much noise they'll hear you. You might try not to break wind again either - people will wonder where the smell is coming from.'

  'I didn't break wind!' said Henry hotly. He realised he was speaking loudly and dropped his voice. 'I didn't,' he whispered.

  'Well, someone did,' Blue said dismissively. She lost interest in breaking wind and asked, 'Where will they be holding Mr Fogarty?'

  'I don't know,' Henry said a little crossly. The only other time he'd ever been inside a police station was because of a missing tail-light on his bike.

  'Well, would it be in the back, or through that door? Or do they have a separate building?' Blue asked.

  'I don't know!' Henry said.

  Behind them the door opened and two constables came in gripping the arms of a surly youth in a cracked leather jacket. The sergeant opened up the counter-top without a word and the constables escorted the boy through a door in the back.

  'That was a prisoner,' Blue said. 'I'm sure that was a prisoner. They must have cells through that door.'

  She might be right, but Henry couldn't see what good it would do them. The sergeant had closed the counter back down, and even if he hadn't done, the two constables had shut the door behind them. Invisibility sounded great, but you couldn't actually go anywhere without making it look as if doors kept opening of their own accord. He started to say something, then stopped as his stomach churned.

  Blue said, 'Come on!'

  To his utter horror, she skipped forward and vaulted over the counter, landing nim
bly - and silently - to one side of the sergeant. He didn't so much as cast a glance in her direction. 'Come on,' she said again, waving encouragingly to Henry.

  Henry's heart sank. He'd never been much of an athletic type, even when he was feeling well. If he tried to do what Blue'd just done, he was sure to trip up and fall in a heap.

  'Henry -' Blue called impatiently.

  Henry trudged shamefully over to the counter. Nothing ever seemed to go smoothly. He couldn't vault, but it was unthinkable to let Blue rescue Mr Fogarty on her own. He looked away so he wouldn't have to meet her eye and cautiously climbed up on to the counter, holding his breath so as to make as little noise as possible. There wasn't much room and he knew he was going to knock the mug of tea over and he knew Blue must think he was a complete wimp compared to all the athletic boys she fancied, but he didn't know of any other way to do it safely.

  He was straddling the counter when the sergeant reached out for his tea. Henry flattened himself against the surface and prayed. The phone rang and the sergeant set his mug down to pick it up. The flex trailed over Henry's invisible bottom, forming a delicate curve, but for the moment the sergeant didn't seem to notice.

  'No, that's Rosewood Street, isn't it?' he said into the phone.

  Henry started to wriggle out from under the flex, but before he could complete the manoeuvre, the sergeant cradled the phone again. Henry slid gratefully over the counter to stand beside Blue, who was looking at him curiously. The woman typing was only a few feet away, the sergeant closer still. Was it really safe to say anything? He decided he'd have to risk it and whispered, 'What do we do now?'

  'Wait and watch,' Blue said. 'We'll slip through the door when everybody's distracted.'

  It sounded a straightforward game plan, except that the two constables emerged from the back (closing the door firmly behind them). A three-way conversation started about somebody called Jackie Knox. Then the typist said, 'You boys want a coffee? I'm making one for myself.' She got up from her desk and suddenly everybody was milling about behind the counter.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Henry could see Blue moving gracefully in what looked like a sinuous dance as she skilfully avoided body contact: she was obviously well used to being invisible. But Henry wasn't. He dodged and ducked like a rhino and every movement increased the sickness in his stomach.

  The woman finished handing out coffee, thank God, and went back to her desk. A door opened in the waiting area and Mr Fogarty came in with a young uniformed policeman by his side. They walked together to the front door.

  'Thank you for your cooperation, sir,' the young policeman said. 'Sorry to have troubled you.'

  Mr Fogarty grunted and walked out into the street.

  'Did you see that?' Blue hissed delightedly. 'They've let him go.'

  The phone rang on the counter and the sergeant reached for it again. 'Nutgrove Station,' he said pleasantly. Another phone rang, this time beside the woman who was typing. She picked it up while moving the mouse of her computer with her other hand. 'That'll be Tom,' remarked one of the constables behind the counter. The girl covered the mouthpiece and called across to the man who didn't look like Elvis, 'Can you come over to the counter a minute, Mr Robson?' The female half of the old couple said sharply, 'What about us? Haven't got all day, you know.' One of the constables said, 'It really shouldn't be much longer, love.' Blue said urgently, 'Come on, Henry.' She swarmed over the counter like a rhesus monkey. The sergeant suddenly exploded, 'Yuuuck!' and dropped the phone. He stared down towards the floor, his eyes wide with astonishment. 'Where did that come from?' he demanded. The two constables turned to look with a mixture of revulsion and amazement. Henry had thrown up on the sergeant's trousers. The results were all too visible. They steamed a little.

  It was weird the way Mr Fogarty kept looking at a spot above his left ear when they talked, but Henry supposed that's what happened when somebody couldn't see you.

  'Mistaken identity,' Mr Fogarty said irritably. 'Bank clerk picked out somebody else in the identity parade.'

  'Why do you think Henry got so sick?' Blue asked. She was visible again, but Henry had only just started to flicker.

  'It'll be his shirt,' Mr Fogarty said firmly.

  'What's wrong with my shirt?' Henry demanded. They were back in Mr Fogarty's home and the nausea, thankfully, was dying down a little.

  'Synthetic fibres,' Mr Fogarty told him in sepulchral tones. 'They conflict with the energy the spell cone released. Get a resonance going and you're sick as a parrot.'

  'You mean he's going to be ill any time he uses magic?' Blue put in.

  'Only if he wears that shirt. Get him to take off all synthetics and try another cone. If I'm right, he should be fine.'

  'Just a minute -' Henry said. It wasn't just his shirt. His trousers were synthetic too. And he didn't even want to think about his boxer shorts.

  But Blue mercifully cut in. 'We'll have to experiment some other time, Gatekeeper. I think it's important you and I get back to the Realm as soon as possible.'

  'What's happened?' Fogarty asked.

  'My father's body has disappeared,' Blue told him tightly. 'And there's a plot to assassinate Pyrgus.'

  Fogarty looked pained. 'Not another one.' He took a deep breath and blew it out vigorously. 'You're right, we'd better go. You got an open portal?' When Blue nodded, he glanced across at Henry. 'You coming?'

  Henry blinked. 'I'd have to sort stuff out at home first.' He had to get some dried food to leave for Hodge, but what he really meant was that he needed to sort out his mother, figure out an excuse for leaving home for a while.

  Fogarty said, 'You do that, then join us fast as you can. You can use the transporter I left you.'

  Blue and Mr Fogarty headed for the door, but when they reached it, Mr Fogarty turned back. He took a small box from his pocket and pressed it into Henry's hand. 'Just get dressed in natural fibres before you use them.'

  'What's this?'

  Mr Fogarty gave one of his rare grins. 'Little present for your mother.'

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  There was something wrong with Pyrgus. He was skulking in his quarters when they found him and Fogarty had seen healthier-looking corpses.

  'You OK?' Fogarty asked at once.

  Pyrgus looked at him with dark-rimmed eyes. 'Yes.'

  'Sure?'

  Pyrgus nodded. 'Yes.'

  Fogarty sniffed. 'Don't look it.'

  Blue said, 'He's right, Pyrgus - you look awful.'

  Pyrgus shrugged. 'Didn't get much sleep last night. Look, can we talk about important things? Have you told the Gatekeeper what's happening?'

  'About our father's body and the assassination plot? Yes.'

  Pyrgus glanced behind them. 'Didn't Henry come with you?'

  'He's following on,' Fogarty said. 'Any developments?'

  Pyrgus licked his lips nervously. 'I questioned the guards. They saw nothing to account for the disappearance of my father - nothing. At one inspection the body was there, at the next it wasn't.'

  'Magic?' Fogarty asked.

  'Don't see how,' Blue said. 'I've never heard of anything that would spirit away a body.'

  'Neither have I,' Pyrgus said. 'But we're not wizards, so there could be a spell we don't know about - maybe something recently developed. I think we should assume it's something of that sort, some unknown magical intervention, and since there's nothing we can do about that at the moment, I don't think we should waste any more time investigating. I think we should wait until whoever did it shows their hand.'

  'You think whoever did it might want a ransom for the body?' Blue said.

  Pyrgus nodded. 'Probably.'

  He was lying. Fogarty was sure of it. What he didn't know was why.

  'I think we should concentrate on this assassination story,' Pyrgus said. 'I hope you don't mind, Blue - I've asked your friend Madame Cardui to brief the Gatekeeper directly.'

  'No, of course I don't mind,' Blue said. 'Is she here or do you want Mr
Fogarty -'

  'She's waiting in the anteroom. I asked her to join us as soon as Mr Fogarty arrived. I'll - ah, here she is now.'

  Fogarty turned as the door beside him opened. Something struck him like a thunderbolt.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Henry opened the box in his bedroom. Six rust-coloured cones nestled on a bed of cotton wool. He stared at them nervously.