Page 37 of Smoke & Ashes
It was, wasn’t it? I didn’t know this guy, I had no idea what his relationship with Galatea had been like. And if I was being honest with myself I was partly projecting. I’d had the advantage of being given at least some of Elise’s backstory by the Multitude—the sentient rat consciousness that was London’s best informed, probably most altruistic, and definitely absolute creepiest information broker—and I’d still had to work hard not to think of her as a cross between a washing machine and a RealDoll. I knew there were times when I’d taken her for granted.
Like that time I let her face down Sebastian Douglas for me and then let her die.
“Are you okay?” asked Ed Brown. I wasn’t sure if he was concerned that I’d gone off into a misery trance, or if he just wanted to get this fucking over with. I wouldn’t have blamed him either way.
“Sorry, drifted off. Been drinking for two hours. Anyway, you’re beginning to have suspicions but at this stage in the game they still add to the excitement of it all. You like the idea that maybe she has a shady past and maybe you’re saving her from it. You talk to whoever you need to talk to and get her a passport and a birth certificate, or something that looks like them. You’re married and for a while it’s good, but soon you start to notice little things. The way she’ll sometimes sit there without blinking for a little bit too long. The way she wakes up in the morning looking like she’s just stepped out of a salon. The way nothing seems to hurt her, physically at least, and she only eats when you’re watching her. Maybe you’re being paranoid but you start to think that when you’re in bed together she isn’t really asleep. Sure, her eyes are closed but she’s as alert and as active as ever. She starts to scare you.”
Again there was no answer. Again it was all the answer I needed.
“You’ve never told her where your office is because she’s never asked and—no offence Ed—your job doesn’t excite you enough that you’d bring it up. And now you’re relieved because you’re beginning to see work as a refuge. You’re making excuses to stay away from home and when youarehome you begin to feel trapped with this strange, perfect creature that only wants to please you. You know it’s ungrateful but you can’t help yourself. That’s when you meet somebody else. Probably on legitimate business, maybe even on a visit to this office, because my guess is that you came here for her.”
There was another long silence, then he took a deep breath. “That’s—some of that was quite spooky.”
I shrugged. “It’s more common than you’d think.”
“I still loved her.” There was a pleading tone in his voice. Unfortunately I wasn’t the one who could forgive him. “But things had started to be so strange. I’d wanted children and she’d said she did too but it was like—like she was going through the motions. And once I’d noticed it about that, I started to notice it about everything else. I began to have strange, impossible ideas, like she was something else pretending to be my wife. I had therapy for a while, but the feeling didn’t go away.”
It wouldn’t have. He’d basically been right. “This is where my job gets complicated. Technically your whole marriage is legally fraud, and you can get gaol time for that, but my client doesn’t care. All she wants is to know what happened to you.”
“I couldn’t tell her,” he said. “I didn’t—I’m not going to say I didn’t want to hurt her, because I know this hurt her more. But I …” He almost seemed to shrink in his seat. He’d hardly touched his beer. “I didn’t know what would happen. I suddenly realised that I’d been married to this—I don’t know. I thought she might have that dark triad thing, you know? It would have explained why she was so charming but also so distant.”
I wanted to hate this guy, but I could see how he’d got there. Being married to a magic sex robot must have been incredible for all of five minutes, then a total mindfuck. “She won’t hurt you,” I said. “You don’t have to go back to her but you need to talk to her. It can be by phone if it’s easier. It might be easier for her as well.”Because she won’t have to pretend to emote. I didn’t say that part out loud.
“And what will you do?”
“I’ll go back to London. I’ll give you until—let’s say—seven to sort this out yourself. Then I have to tell her what I know. I won’t tell her where you are, but I’ll explain why you left. She’ll accept it, but it’ll be a lot worse coming from me.”
He took a long draught of his previously untouched pint. “It doesn’t look like I have much choice. But you’re right. I owe her this.” There was a moment’s silence, then he added. “I’m still paying for the flat, you know.”
“I’d fucking well hope so. If you’d kicked her out on the street this conversation would have ended very differently.”
There wasn’t a lot more to be said. I left him to the other half of his beer and set off for the station. On the way I texted Galatea to let her know she should be expecting a call and that I’d be dropping by later to see how it went. It would have been better to ring her up and actually speak to her, but I wasn’t sure I could face it.
Here lies Kate Kane. Fucking hypocrite.
17
Me & the Client
Iswung by the office to check everything was still in what I laughably called “order” and to make sure no supernatural beings had busted in again while I was away. They hadn’t, which I almost took as an insult. Nothing said “slow inevitable slide towards irrelevance” like the point that mysterious creatures from the shadowy depths of the collective unconscious stop showing up where you work and try to hire and/or bang you.
Once I felt I’d given Eddie Baby an appropriate amount of time to do the decent thing and tell his wife why he’d run out on her, I hopped on a bus to Brentford and went to make sure she was okay. That and give her the bill. Because unlike about half the women in my life, I didn’t have mysteriously limitless resources.
When Galatea opened the door she looked—well there were no two ways about it, she looked like she was made of stone. She was still person-coloured but she’d gone back to that way Elise used to be when we first met where she only moved when she thought about it and didn’t think about it that often.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hello.”
“He’s called then.”
One nod, sharp and precise. Then she turned silently and led me inside.
Everything about her was eerily unchanged from the last time we’d met. Then again she didn’t need to eat or sleep or sit down or touch much of anything, so it wasn’t like she’d need to fix her hair or redo her makeup. Even her clothes were the same—Elise had changed outfits fairly regularly as she’d experimented with her identity, but Galatea clearly hadn’t considered the option.
I lowered myself onto the sofa, and she sat beside me. There was something I found weirdly upsetting about the gesture—if she was anything like Elise she’d have preferred to stand and it didn’t look like she used the furniture while she was alone, so she was clearly doing it for my benefit.
“How’d it go?” I asked.
