The Map of Chaos (Trilogía Victoriana #3)(173)
“This is the true map of Chaos,” whispered the old lady.
Ramsey nodded. “If Clayton were to fall asleep right now, somewhere on it a golden trail would appear,” he told her, pointing at the glorious haze of light and color, which nevertheless represented the greatest cataclysm the universe had ever known.
“Then we can only wait,” said Mrs. Lansbury, “and hope that he falls asleep soon . . .”
37
PLEASE, GOD, DON’T LET ME fall asleep now, Clayton was thinking at that precise moment. The Villain had snatched Clayton’s pistol and the book from Wells, and both were floating in the air a few yards in front of the inspector.
“Well, dear friends!” came the Villain’s honeyed voice from behind the weapon, which was pointing first at the couple, then at Clayton. “I’m afraid this pleasant reunion has come to an end. Much as I enjoy your company, there are countless worlds out there that I have yet to explore, and so, regretfully, I must take my leave. George, I promised you I would kill you painlessly, and I am a man of my word. Of all the methods I have used so far, a bullet in the head is the most civilized one, I think. But, of course,” he whispered as the black muzzle of the pistol spun round toward Jane, “ladies first.”
Wells placed himself in front of his wife, his face deathly pale, but then Clayton guffawed loudly. The pistol paused for a few seconds before whirling round toward the inspector, who was convulsed with laughter.
“What is it you find so amusing, Inspector?” the creature snapped.
Clayton took a few deep breaths, trying to compose himself.
“Oh, forgive me . . . I just couldn’t help remembering the day I shot you in the leg at Mrs. Lansbury’s house . . . That trail of blood appearing out of nowhere, and then vanishing, as if by magic . . . one last drop and then puff! gone.”
“Believe me, I haven’t forgotten it either, Inspector,” the Invisible Man snarled. “That bullet forced me to jump and leave the book behind . . . after all the trouble I went to, finding the old woman among all the possible worlds!” The pistol drifted toward Clayton, like some menacing insect. “So it was you . . . ,” hissed the voice, oozing hatred. “I didn’t get a good look at you because it was dark on the stairs. I assumed one of the old woman’s stupid servants had shot me . . .”
“What a shame”—Clayton shrugged—“because if you had known there was a police officer in the house that day, it might have occurred to you that I was the custodian of the book, and you wouldn’t have wasted all that time chasing Wells . . . That was your big mistake!”
“A trivial one, as it turns out, now that I have it!” roared the creature, waving the book in the air. “Although you are right: if I hadn’t believed it was in George’s possession, we would all have been spared a lot of unpleasantness. But it never occurred to me that the old woman could have entrusted it to anyone else. When I went back to her house to finish what I had started, I realized she had jumped, thanks to some of the remarks made by the policemen searching her house. Once more I was forced to chase her to another world, although I found her more easily that time. My powers were being enhanced, and now I could smell the fresh trail of a jumper. And so, after wandering through a few similar worlds, I managed to track her down. She was living in a humble dwelling, which I entered one night with the aim of stealing the book. The old woman was sleeping, though not very soundly. The tears seeped from her closed eyelids and rolled down her cheeks as she murmured, ‘Forgive me, Bertie, dear . . . I had to do it, I had to give him the book and jump, forgive me . . .’?” The Villain imitated the old lady’s quavering speech in a reedy voice before resuming his angry tone. “Damnation! I should have woken her up and tortured her until she told me who she was talking about . . . but I just assumed it was the Wells from this world. After all, the note she gave her stupid maid was addressed to him. That was how I first got wind of her plan, and when I overheard those policemen, I assumed she must have somehow got the book to him before she jumped. The book had remained in this world, and Wells had it! I tried for several years to find my way back to this universe, but, believe me, returning to the same world isn’t as easy as it sounds,” he boasted. “Only someone with my immense talent could pull it off . . . I had done it a few days after you shot me by following my own trail! But after I heard the old woman talking in her sleep, my last trail had gone cold, or at least I couldn’t find it, and my search for this world turned into something of an odyssey. But I found it. Not just once, but twice! The first time I appeared at Brook Manor, where I was forced to jump again, this time with a bolt in my shoulder and an eye missing . . .” The pistol seemed to glance sideways at Jane, who shivered in her husband’s arms. “By that time, all of me was invisible—even my clothes, which were shedding molecules at the same rate as my body, and that only increased my power . . . Though I have to admit, George and his friends won that battle. But my peculiar molecular structure not only gives me invisibility, it also causes my wounds, however serious, to heal more quickly than normal. And so, as soon as I had recovered, and before the tracks from my last jump vanished, I came back here. I appeared early this morning at my dear friend George’s house, still believing he had THE MAP OF CHAOS. But George was kind enough to tell me who its true guardian was and even offered to bring me here . . . for which I intend to thank him by giving him a swift and painless death. However, I see no reason why your death should be so merciful, Inspector Clayton. Perhaps I shall blow your kneecaps off and let you bleed to death, as payment for that bullet that brought me so many problems . . . What do you think?”