Chapter 2
Murray Leibowitz narrowed his eyes. Men spilled from the saloon, the doors clackety clacked, breaking the silence. Onlookers held their breath, somewhere in the crowd a woman swooned. In the middle of the street, a gunfighter stood primed for action, his own eyes almost closed as he stared across at Leibowitz.
‘You feeling lucky… punk?’ Leibowitz growled as he strutted into position. The gunfighter flexed his fingers, just short of his holster, his black hat pulled down over his forehead. Murray stood with his legs apart, the sun shielded from his face by the enormous hat he wore, it was white. He felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.
‘Last chance to apologize and we can both walk away from this my friend.’ Murray called out. He knew that he was wasting his breath, but you had to play for the crowd.
As if in slow motion, the man went for his gun, Leibowitz’s own hand moved like lightning. There was a deafening bang. Someone screamed. Seconds later, the gunfighter lay dead in the dust. The American spun his gun theatrically, pausing only to blow the cordite from the barrel before sliding it back in its holster.
Instantly the crowd were around him, a scantily clad dancing girl threw her arms around his thick neck and smothered his cheek with kisses. Men shook his hand. There was congratulation, even adulation in the air. The crowd began to part as someone made their way towards the hero. Her lilac hair piled high on her head made her look something like a lavender ice cream cone. Her corsets, a feat of engineering in their own right, pulled in a waist that if left to its own devices would never exist, the result was a cleavage that could train mountain goats. Flourishing her skirts, she stopped in from of Murray and pursed pink cupids bow lips. ‘That was some mighty fine shootin’ stranger.’
Leibowitz was fascinated by the beauty spot on her cheek. He found himself addressing it, rather than the woman underneath.
‘You’re very welcome ma’am.’ Leibowitz replied, touching the brim of his hat. ‘All in a day’s work.’
‘How about we buy you a drink to celebrate?’ She turned slightly and offered her arm. Murray was surprised to see two small lilac wings protruding from the back of her outfit but quickly shook himself. Taking her arm in his, they promenaded into the saloon.
The fairy Godmother indicated to a huge pig in black sunglasses serving behind the bar. ‘Porkio, get this cowboy whatever he wants… on the house.’
Two shot glasses filled with whiskey were instantly fired along the bar. The lady raised her glass, and Murray tapped it with his own. The liquid burned his throat on the way down.
‘So Mr Leibowitz, what brings you to this one-horse town?’ She asked, apparently oblivious to the effects of the liquor.
‘I… I…’ Leibowitz gasped. ‘Is that a god damned pig?’
‘Porkio is an… employee, something of a specialist in his field.’ She replied with a smile.
Murray nodded to the pig as it cleaned glasses. It glowered in his direction.
‘His field?’ His brow furrowed in confusion. He shook his head to clear it. ‘How did you know my name?’ Murray asked, turning his attention back to the apparition in front of him.
The Godmother giggled girlishly, sending a shudder down the American’s spine. ‘There is not very much that does not come to our attention. We know for example that you are actually Murray Leibowitz, that you are a former director of REMCORP and that you have a score to settle with a certain Will Cooper.’
The Godmother ordered another couple of drinks.
Murray prodded the fairy somewhere in the region of her shoulder. ‘This is my dream sweetheart, of course, you are going to know all of that, though I don’t understand why you keep speaking like the god damned Queen of England.’
In a flash, he found himself suspended a foot above the ground, his terror reflected in black lenses as the hit pig held him firmly by the throat. The grasp suggested that should a firmer grip be required, there would not be a problem.
The fairy laughed and indicated that he should be released, and reluctantly Porkio lowered him to the ground. ‘In this world Mr Leibowitz, we are the queen. What would you say if we told you that all of this…’ She gestured to the room. ‘All of this was completely real?’
The American downed his drink, still keeping one eye on the pig. ‘I would say, lady, that I have been overdoing things.’
‘Indeed. Mr Cooper believed it to be real. He believed it enough to plan to destroy his entire invention?’ She replied.
Murray snorted. ‘He went god damned crazy!’
‘Perhaps you have gone the same? With your forthcoming trial in the Realitas, not to mention the money you have lost with the invention disappearing into police custody, we can understand why you would be angry and disturbed. We know ourselves how disappointing it can be to be thwarted in the matters of… business. Do you remember your encounter with your Grandmother? A most amusing response, we believe she took it rather personally.’ She paused for a moment as Leibowitz stared. ‘We believe that Mr Cooper discovered that his invention had accessed a world as real as your own and, that for reasons best known to themselves, the powers that be in this realm decided that a free exchange of trade should be halted. We find that very short-sighted and somewhat… vexing. What we are proposing, Mr Leibowitz, is an alliance. You help us to gain access to this invention and we will assist you in repaying your debt to Mr Cooper, in the one place that he cannot be protected, in his dreams. If you believe us, Mr Leibowitz, then all well and good, but if you don’t then still, what have you got to lose?’
~~
‘How is he, Adam?’ Cassandra asked.
Adam took a sip from his pint glass.
‘I asked…’ She repeated.
‘I know what you asked.’ He said, looking up. ‘I’m just not sure what to tell you. He is the same.’
‘So he is still determined to destroy the Daydream Believer once you get it back?’ She said, sitting back in her chair.
Adam shook his head. ‘That, that right there is the problem. Is that really all you care about? The bloke is unravelling. He takes tablets to sleep, tablets to wake up, he’s even started seeing a psychiatrist.’
‘Of course I care.’ Cassandra snipped. ‘But he wants nothing to do with me, he has made that abundantly clear. What am I supposed to do except make the best of things?’
‘Perhaps if you actually thought anything of the guy…’ Adam said, matching her tone.
Cass had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed. ‘Ok.’ She said. ‘I did a terrible thing. I was greedy and thoughtless, but I have changed, really.’
‘You were working for Leibowitz Cass. You married Will because you saw a big pile of cash. Then you left him in a coma while you tried to turn yourself into a z list celebrity.’ Adam said.
‘But I did help to save him, or have you both forgotten that?’ She pleaded.
‘No, it isn’t forgotten. That’s the only reason I’m sitting here now.’ He retorted.
Cassandra’s eyes widened. ‘The only reason?’
Adam held her gaze for a moment. ‘He’s my best mate Cass, and I’m not going to do anything to push him further over the edge. Do I make myself clear?’
‘But you are attracted to me?’ She asked quietly.
‘Cass…’ He sighed.
‘You are, I know you are. We had a connection.’ Cassandra pushed.
Adam stood up suddenly and put on his jacket. ‘
Where are you going?’ She asked. ‘Away from this conversation. I will try and get Will to talk to you. Some things need sorting out.’
‘But?’ Cassandra started, but Adam had already left.
~~
Anaya sat in the garden, gazing out across the still pool. In her hand, she twirled a flat stone. After a few moments, she sent it whizzing out across the surface of the water, watching it bounce three times before sinking into the depths.
‘How does it feel to be back in the fold dearie?’ Came a voice from behind her. Anaya turned to see Ethel approaching. In the world of the Polymorph, Ethel was cast as the perpetual Grandmother figure, casting comfort or censure as the dream required.
‘It’s strange being back in the palace buildings. I suppose I had been away from this world for too long.’ Anaya said.
‘It’s your home dear. I suppose on the outside, you forget what it is to be pampered and your every whim catered for, it’s…’
‘Suffocating.’ Anaya finished.
‘I was going to suggest comforting, but there we are.’ Ethel nodded and sat down beside the younger morph. She took out her knitting and began a new row. ‘Last time we met things were a bit tense, dearie. I want to make sure that things are all right between us now.’
‘You did try and get us all killed!’ Anaya said indignantly. She had not forgotten how the older Morph had fostered a vendetta against the humans and had attempted to start a war.
‘I was angry my dear, you know how that is. You, more than anyone, know how humans can bring out the worst in all of us.’ She gave Anaya a look. ‘But I assure you, I am better now, as of course are you.’
‘Yes, back to work. I have a few assignments lined up…’ Anaya said wistfully.
Ethel knitted steadily. ‘You don’t seem very excited, my dear? When I was your age, I loved the attention, couldn’t get enough of it. Are you not enjoying yourself?’
‘But…’ Anaya said, turning to face her. ‘It is not me they adore, just a vision of a person they usually can’t have.’
Ethel nodded sagely, not missing a stitch. ‘And you are perhaps thinking of being adored by someone in particular?’
Anaya turned back to look at the lake. ‘I just get so tired of all the mendacity.’ She said lamely.
‘Of course you do.’ Ethel said as she put her knitting back into her paisley bag. She stood and placed a hand on Anaya’s shoulder. ‘Don’t worry my dear. I am sure you will see your Mr Hawke soon enough.’
Anaya opened her mouth to speak, but Ethel put her finger up to silence her. ‘In fact,’ the older Morph continued. ‘On my way here there was something of a ruckus just down the road at the museum. I could be wrong, but I could have sworn Mr Hawke was right in the middle of it.’
Anaya was on her feet in a moment. ‘I… err, I just need to pop out for a minute.’
‘Of course you do dearie.’ Ethel said, hiding a smile.
~~
Ceun Hawke, Morphean bounty hunter, was indeed right in the middle of something. However, if someone had suggested ruckus to him, he would have considered it something of an overstatement. Currently, he was creeping along a corridor in the Morphean museum of art. His prey was the legendary art thief Piablo, and the problem was he could be anywhere.
‘I bloody hate invisible criminals.’ Hawke muttered under his breath.
Stopping mid-stride, he strained his ears for any telltale sound that would give the perpetrator away, but the museum remained silent. Just as he was about to move on, Ceun heard a noise, barely audible coming from the parallel corridor. Trying to stay as silent as possible, he took a packet from the pocket of his jacket and moved towards the sound. There was definitely someone moving about in there, albeit almost silently.
Ceun wracked his brains, trying to think which artefact Piablo might be after. As far as he could remember, the hall contained a few minor masterpieces, but nothing worth risking prison time. He edged towards the corner and stopped. He could hear someone breathing, just faintly, but enough to know that Piablo was just around the corner waiting to ambush him. With lightning speed, Ceun leapt out from behind the wall and doused his assailant liberally with the packet. As the dust settled, he was aware that ‘Piablo’ was standing with arms crossed and one foot was tapping in irritation. The apparition shook itself and became more and more shaped like Anaya.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ He blurted.
‘I might ask you the same question!’ She snapped back. She picked up some powder on her finger and pushed it into her mouth. ‘And why am I covered in flour?’
Ceun held his finger to his lips. There was a definite tearing sound coming from the gallery to their left. Nodding his head towards the room, they began to walk softy towards the noise. Ceun held up the bag of flour. It was now completely empty. Rolling his eyes, he moved forward, hoping against hope that Piablo would be arrogant enough to assume visible form to perform the robbery.
Anaya and Ceun peered around the doorway. A priceless oil painting of a somewhat disgruntled lady was being magically removed from its frame. Confident that his pursuer had found more interesting people to annoy, the art thief was happily collecting what he came for.
‘How are we going to catch him?’ Anaya hissed.
‘We, are not, I am.’ He hissed back. Without looking, Ceun could feel her cold stare on his neck.
‘And how exactly are you going to do that? You appear to have run out of your magic ingredient?’ She whispered.
Ceun waved her into silence and continued to watch as the painting was rolled up and presumably secreted inside a robe as it disappeared from view.
‘Now…’ Ceun began, but as he turned, Anaya was no-where to be seen. Irritably scratching his head, he tried to keep track of the invisible Piablo by listening for the squeak of boots on the polished museum floor. Just as the felon was about to step through the door, Anaya appeared. Her face a mixture of sweet benevolence and annoyance. Her arms outstretched, in the museum lighting the flour covering her gave off a vague luminous glow. The squeak of the boots stopped suddenly.
‘Antoinette?’ Said the voice of Piablo.
‘It is I, my love.’ Anaya said, swaying slightly from side to side.
Ceun rolled his eyes at her theatrics.
‘But… Antoinette, what are you doing here?’ Piablo asked.
‘I have come to stop you, my love. You cannot continue with this life of crime… it breaks my heart.’ She was moving towards the voice.
Even without a visible face, Piablo radiated confusion. ‘But my dear sweet Antoinette, it was you, yourself who suggested I go into this? It was to buy things for you, my Antoinette.’
Anaya’s serenity flickered for a moment. ‘But I have changed my mind, now that I have moved over into the spirit world I see the error of my… your… our ways.’
Piablo seemed to be thinking about this. ‘When did you pass over into the spirit world? Half an hour ago, you were shopping?’
Ceun began to creep towards the sound of the voice.
‘Yes.’ Anaya said, slightly uncertainly. ‘Yes, indeed I was, it was very sudden, there was an… an accident.’
‘What sort of accident?’ Piablo asked. He suddenly turned as Ceun ducked behind a sculpture of a Dragon killing St George.
‘A terrible, terrible accident. Please, let me see you one last time before I cross over.’ Anaya said.
‘I don’t think you are my Antoinette?’ Piablo said.
‘I just want to hold you, my darling!’ Anaya said throwing her arms around what she hoped was Piablo. Ceun also decided to leap at the same time. Piablo wriggled free of her grasp and was off running towards the entrance, but he was imprinted with an Anaya shaped flour print. It was no problem for Ceun to catch up with him, and soon the thief was handcuffed and lying possibly face down on the marble floor.
Gradually Piablo faded back into view. ‘It’s not fair using a morph.’ He grumbled.
‘It’s not fair stealing things that don’t belong to you.’ Ceun replied as he hauled the man to his feet.
‘These paintings belong to the people.’ Piablo said haughtily, ‘I am one of the people.’
‘They are not meant to be for the people to take home, though, are they now?’ Ceun replied cheerfully, just as a squad of police officers arrived.
‘Here you are, gentlemen.’ Ceun said, flashing his badge. ‘You can save me the trouble of taking him to the station. Of course, I will need a receipt. I would like to be paid.’
As the paperwork was completed, Anaya stood patiently leaning against the doorway. Ceun waved happily to the police officers as they dragged Piablo away.
‘Aren’t you even going to say thank you?’ She asked.
‘Thank you.’ Ceun replied grudgingly. He turned to face her. ‘Although technically, I didn’t ask for your help, you did actually cause me to use the detection agent...’
‘The flour?’ She said arching an eyebrow.
‘The flour yes, and you shouldn’t have been in here anyway. Apart from that, thank you very much for all your assistance, but it really wasn’t required.’ He replied.
‘I see you haven’t learnt any gratitude since I last saw you.’ Anaya muttered.
‘As I said Anaya, what are you doing here?’ Ceun sighed.
‘Oh… I… I saw there was a disturbance and I came to investigate. We are after all agents for Morphean intelligence. I felt it was my civic duty.’ She ended primly.
‘Shhhh!’ Ceun said, moving towards her. ‘You don’t know who might be listening.’
‘In here?’ She asked, looking around.
‘Ok, perhaps no-one is listening, but since when did you develop a sense of civic duty?’ He asked.
‘Since I became an agent for Morphean intelligence.’ She replied, enjoying his wince as she said the words.
‘And have you heard anything from ‘them’ since our last adventure together?’ Ceun asked.
‘No. Have you?’
Ceun shook his head. ‘With a bit of luck that will be the one and only time they will call on us. I don’t like the idea of doing things covertly.’
‘Says he who creeps around museums armed with intent to bake.’ She said wryly.
‘You knew what I meant.’
Anaya smiled. ‘So… how have you been… since…?’
‘Good. You?’ Ceun replied awkwardly.
‘Yes, good. I’m back at work now.’ She said with a shrug.
‘Good?’ He asked.
‘Good.’
The silence stretched out.
‘Well…’ Ceun said eventually. ‘I’d best be going. Need to check that my deposit got to its destination safely and that he didn’t decide to disappear again.’ Waving his hand, the Bounty Hunter turned and left. Anaya faced the doorframe and slowly banged her head against the wood.
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