Going Under Read Free

situation wiffnever arise, Tath said with sufficient frost
that she had cause to stop and doubt his sincerity for a moment. But she
was too anxious to think on it, instead rushing into another defence.
    I hope you didn't find last night too ... soiling. She was surprised at the stinging tone of her thought, which amply conveyed her embarrassment and anger at being perpetually spied upon, whether wilfully or not. It was a struggle not to let any memory surface for his perusal: she clearly saw one image of Zal naked.
    1,hVt my promise. cf~iave no idea zv/iatyou are taf in y about. Aiyou affenact
some dire oW to yet/ er ? 6"o £nezv suc/ an innocent fittfe t/iin y li keyourse f couJi
be cvaEfe of t/at sort of r Eauchery ?
    Lila's fear and anger suddenly evaporated and she snorted with laughter.
    foverdir[it ?
    You can't carry off Puritan, she told him. It's not your nature.
    Tath grumbled but she sensed that he was pleased. She was reasonably sure that he hadn't missed a trick either. At least he had been completely discreet about it and that was about the only mercy she was going to get.

    She moved to the wall and pressed her face for a moment against the cool stone of the pillar that supported the window arch. Its solidity was reassuring. Memories of other kinds: her parents walking away to the cruise liner that would take them far from Thanatopia's fragile shores into the infinite; an imagined vision of Zal's first wife, Adai, taking the same journey, forlorn aboard an airship with white wings-these visions came as they always did, accompanied by a flood of guilt and sadness. And then other visions-darker and less certain. These came later, tripping trapping across the bridge of suspicion: she was not the first person to be made over using the bomb fault technology. There had been others. Surely. What happened to them? The existence of remote controllers was proven, but not how many there were, or of what kind. The intentions of those who held them were also a mystery. And for how long could she attempt to embrace the demon life when she was no demon? Or an elven life, being no elf, nor anything but herself-and even that not what she had dreamed it a few scant months before.
    Something moving caught the corner of her eye and she looked up to see the imp, Thingamajig, hopping over the baskets on the balcony towards the door. He pressed his small, hideous face to the glass and stared at her; the pet who could not come in. On the carpet Teazle yawned and hooked some loops with his claws in a satisfied sort of way that seemed entirely in keeping with his leisurely pose but which signalled to Lila that he was highly alert. Teazle didn't have a lot of time for imps; possibly less than ten seconds.
    Outside Thingamajig was doing an elaborate mime. When she frowned at him, he went off and shortly returned with a dead bird. He tore out the tail feathers and stuck them to his bottom and then held the loose-necked head in front of his face. Then he dropped his props and wiggled his fingers close to his eyes before stretching his arms out, indicating all directions. Satisfied from the change on her face that she had understood, he returned to yanking ribbons off the baskets and licking them for traces of aether.

    "He's right," Teazle murmured without opening his eyes. His tail twitched. "You should go and see her. It's time."
    "If it's time why is he still here?" she folded her arms and watched the imp's activities. "Surely I'm still hellbound if he hasn't gone away of his own accord?"
    Teazle grunted, "Unlike most imps he seems to have an agenda that goes beyond tormenting the damned." He sounded vaguely intrigued, but only vaguely. "If that weren't the case I'd have eaten him already. But he hasn't been on your shoulder in a week, and that's good enough. Will you go alone?"
    She knew enough about the white demon by now to know that a leading question from him was always a taunting opportunity in the making; if she said no, she'd drop