The generic flunky looked at me for a long moment. “Then I will look forward to seeing you again, sir.”
He led us back across the purple-tinged grass, back to the door, and our world. Molly slipped her arm through mine.
“First you want to free all the faces in the corridor, now you want to free all the flunkies in this world. You just can’t look away, can you?”
“The word over-ambitious does come to mind,” said Frankie, behind us.
“That’s my Shaman,” said Molly. “Can’t see a wrong without wanting to put it right.” She smiled at me fondly. “Just remember, we still have a war to stop. And you promised me you’d help track down the Regent so I can get the truth out of him.”
“I hadn’t forgotten,” I said.
“I’m actually beginning to believe it,” said Frankie. “Maybe you really can break the bank at Casino Infernale, after all.”
Molly looked at him. “If you didn’t believe it before, why have you been helping us all this time?”
Frankie looked at her as though she was crazy. “For the money, of course!”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Decisions Are Made, With Far-Reaching Consequences
I was bracing myself for another trip through the corridor of screaming faces, all those trapped souls I couldn’t help, but when the generic flunky finally opened the dimensional door it opened directly onto our hotel suite. I stepped through automatically, with Molly and Frankie almost stepping on my heels, but when I turned back to question the flunky . . . the dimensional door had already closed, and disappeared. It did feel good to be back. The world of the Medium Games had just felt wrong, in too many small, telling ways. Mars had actually been easier to deal with, because it was so different. I sighed heavily, and sank down onto the bed. I hadn’t realised how tired I was until I didn’t have to be strong any more.
“It would seem the hotel’s doors can drop us off wherever they want to,” said Molly.
“Then why did they make us walk through the corridor of trapped souls in the first place?” I said.
“To make a point?” said Frankie. “Remind us where the true power lies, at Casino Infernale? To put us in the right frame of mind for the Games? The Casino has been doing this for a long time, and it never misses a trick.”
“I need to take another shower,” I said, heaving myself back up onto my feet again. “I need to wash the Games off me.”
“Sounds good,” said Molly. “Think I’ll join you.”
“I think I’ll go for another walk,” said Frankie. “Maybe take a turn back into town, see if they’ve cleared up all those crashed Pteranodons yet. There’s a future in fast food to be made there, by someone with ambition and the right connections. . . .”
“Hold it,” I said. “I have a job for you, first. I want all the souls we won deposited somewhere safe, and secure.”
“No problem,” said Frankie. “I’ll deposit them in the hotel safe. What are you both looking at me like that for? They’ll be perfectly secure there. The Shadow Bank guarantees Casino Infernale’s security. If they didn’t, no one who mattered would gamble here. Why do you think they made such a fuss when you broke into Parris’ office? People have to believe their winnings are safe here. You’d better give me your obols to deposit, too. They’re the soul equivalent of cold cash.”
Molly and I dug the small coins out of our pockets and handed them over to Frankie; but at the last moment I held back the first obol I’d won. I hefted the small coin in my hand. So light, it was hardly there.
“Think I’ll hang on to this,” I said, putting it back in my pocket. “As a reminder of how cheaply they value souls around here.”
“He’s getting sentimental,” Molly said to Frankie. “That’s always dangerous. Leave now. Quickly. Run, while you still have the chance!”
Frankie left, grinning. I took Molly by the hand and led her to the shower. The blood came off easily enough, but the memories still stuck.
Afterwards, we dressed in new clothes. A smart navy blue blazer and slacks for me, and a matching blue evening gown for Molly. She paraded up and down the room in it for me to admire, and smiled triumphantly at me.
“Now aren’t you glad I packed so many clothes?”
“I trust you explicitly in such things,” I said, carefully packing the Armourer’s various secret weapons and devices about my person. “Except for when I don’t.”
“I knew you wouldn’t stick with that shoulder holster,” said Molly, as I slipped the Colt Repeater into my pocket dimension.
“Slowed me down too much. Stick with what works, that’s what I say.” I stood before the full-length looking glass to check out my appearance. Molly came and stood beside me, looking almost dazzlingly glamorous.
“We do make a good team,” she said. “I’d back us against anyone, in this world or out of it.”
I had to smile. “That is why we’re here. . . .”
Frankie knocked loudly on the door, from outside in the corridor, but had the lock open and was inside with us before the echoes had died away.
“Good to see you both upright, and clothed,” he said. “I have news!”
“What is so urgent?” said Molly. In a tone that implied that it had bloody well better be.
“We’ve been gone longer than you think,” said Frankie. “I was just down in the lobby, when it occurred to me to check my watch against the lobby’s clock. We’ve been away for half a day!”
I looked automatically at my watch. It had never occurred to me to check. We’d been away only an hour or so, maybe less. But the hands on my watch face showed ten past ten. Molly showed me her watch: 22:09. When I looked at the hotel clock on the bedside table, it said 1:14. And it was only then I thought to look out the window. It had been a dark evening when we left, now it was a bright sunny day. Midday, apparently.
“What was the point of that?” said Molly.
“To make another point, about how the Casino can control Time and Space through their dimensional doors?” said Frankie. “Or, because they didn’t want us hanging around the hotel with all its hangers-on, con men, and thieves, before the Big Game starts?”
“I hate time travel,” I said. “It plays merry hell with your tenses.”
“Casino Infernale is very nearly over,” said Frankie. “When I was down in the lobby, it was almost empty. Most of the Players have gone, and all of the hangers-on. The few remaining Major Players are apparently sitting quietly in their rooms, behaving themselves, waiting to see if they’ve done well enough to be invited to attend the Big Game.”
And even as he was saying that, there was a polite but firm knock on the door. Molly and I moved quickly to stand together, facing the door, while Frankie moved quickly to hide behind us. Before it even occurred to me to say Come in! the lock opened from the other side and the manager Jonathon Scott walked in. He smiled easily at me, polite and respectful, consideration itself.
“Allow me to present my compliments,” he said, in his best professionally charming voice. “I am here to invite you to take your place in the Big Game, Mr. Bond. On the penthouse floor at precisely eight o’clock this evening.”
Frankie punched the air. Molly beamed widely, and I nodded to Scott. He waited a moment, to see if there was to be any more exuberance, and then stepped forward and presented me with an engraved invitation. Nothing fancy, or fussy. Just a simple card with my name on it. Nice lettering. Shaman Bond had never looked better.
“Please don’t lose the card,” said Scott. “It has all kinds of security protocols built in. You won’t be admitted without it.”