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Acheron was sitting by the window, his back to the door. He didn’t move when I entered.
“Hello, Thursday.”
“Mr. Hedge?”
“Locals in mid-nineteenth-century England are a superstitious lot. I thought Hades might seem a little strong for them.”
He turned to face me, his piercing blue eyes seeming to look straight into me. But his power over me had waned; he could not read me as he had others. He sensed this immediately, gave a half-smile and resumed staring out of the window.
“You grow strong, Miss Next.”
“I thrive on adversity.”
He gave a short laugh.
“I should have made quite sure of you back at Styx’s apartment.”
“And spoiled all the fun? Your life would be considerably more dull without me and the rest of SpecOps to louse it up.”
He ignored me and changed the subject.
“Someone as resourceful as you would
never have come in here without a way out. What is it, Thursday? A prearranged code to let Mycroft know when to open the door?”
“Something like that. If you give me the instruction manual and Polly I promise you shall have a fair trial.”
Hades laughed.
“I think I am way beyond a fair trial, Thursday. I could kill you now and I feel a strong urge to do precisely that, but the prospect of being trapped in this narrative for all time bars me from that action. I tried to get to London but it’s impossible; the only towns that exist in this world are the places that Charlotte Brontë wrote about and which feature in the narrative. Gateshead, Lowood—I’m surprised that there is even as much of this town. Give me the code word to get out and you can have the manual and Polly.”
“No. You give me the manual and my aunt first.”
“You see? Impasse. You’ll want to wait until the book is written again, though, won’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Then you will expect no trouble from me until such time as Jane leaves Thornfield for good. After that, we negotiate.”
“I won’t negotiate, Hades.”
Hades shook his head slowly.
“You’ll negotiate, Miss Next. You may be disgustingly righteous but even you will balk at spending the rest of your life in here. You’re an intelligent woman; I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
I sighed and walked back outside, where the bustle of the shoppers and traders was a welcome break from the dark soul of Hades.
33.
The Book Is Written
From our position in the lounge of the Penderyn Hotel we could see Thursday’s good work. The narrative continued rapidly; weeks passed in the space of a few lines. As the words wrote themselves back across the page they were read aloud by Mycroft or myself. We were all waiting for the phrase “sweet madness” to appear in the text, but it didn’t. We prepared ourselves to assume the worst; that Hades was not caught and might never be. That Thursday might stay in the book as some sort of permanent caretaker.
From Bowden Cable’s journal
THE WEEKS passed rapidly at Thornfield and I busied myself with the task of making Jane secure without her ever knowing it. I had a young lad positioned at the Millcote to warn of Hades’ movements, but he seemed quite happy just to go out walking every morning, borrow books from the local doctor, and spend his time at the inn. His inaction was a cause of some worry, but I was glad it was merely that for the time being.
Rochester had sent a note advising of his return and a party was arranged for local friends of his. Jane seemed to be severely agitated by the arrival of the airhead Blanche Ingram, but I gave it little heed. I was busy trying to arrange security with John, the cook’s husband, who was a resourceful and intelligent man. I had taught him to shoot with Rochester’s pistols and he was, I was delighted to find out, an excellent shot. I had thought that Hades might make an appearance with one of the guests but, apart from the arrival of Mr. Mason from the West Indies, nothing out of the ordinary occurred.
