And I want to say that yes, of course it is. But, on the other hand, I haven’t eaten since I don’t know when, and if I go to see my father I’m not sure when I’ll eat again, and I’m hungry and now I’m totally pissed off.
I get to my feet and walk out of the booth, saying to Gabriel, “Let’s get something to eat.”
Gus says, “You spoiled brat. This mission is more important than you—or do you think that because your father is Marcus you can swagger in here and expect everyone to run around after you?”
Gabriel is by me now and I don’t turn back to Gus because if I do I might kill him. I carry on to the door, saying to Gabriel, “I’m hungry. Let’s go.”
“You shouldn’t risk being seen,” Gus snarls.
Gabriel stares at Gus. “You should make sure he doesn’t leave. You should get him something to eat. You’re the fool.”
Gus is no fool, of course, but he is a Black Witch, and no lover of Half Codes, and he’s not going to back down. So Gabriel and I walk out of the Red Gourd onto the street. When we get round the corner I suddenly remember practicalities.
“Have you got any money?”
“As a matter of fact—and I have to say I hope you’re as impressed with me as I am—yes, I do.”
“Buy me lunch then?”
“Anytime.”
We find a small Italian restaurant and order mountains of pasta but I eat only a little.
“Yours no good?” Gabriel asks.
“It’s OK. Gus ruined my appetite.” I stab a piece of pasta with my fork. “He despises me for not being a ‘proper’ Black Witch and for being the spoiled son of the blackest Black Witch.”
“Some you lose and some you lose.”
“Sounds like my life. Though it doesn’t look promising for the Alliance. We’re hardly one happy family. If all Blacks are like Gus . . .”
“I hate to bear bad news, Nathan, but most of them are. No one’s used to trusting witches who are different from them. Even here in Europe, they’re just used to ignoring them. Gus would love to ignore you but he can’t.”
“Great.”
“We can only hope that once he realizes what a wonderful, warm personality you have he’ll become one of your greatest admirers.”
I start to laugh.
Gabriel leans back and smiles at me. “So, as one of your current greatest admirers, can you tell me what’s happening? What’s the plan?”
I nod and tell him everything Gus told me.
“Gus would be very upset if he knew you’d divulged his top-secret information,” Gabriel says.
“Would be? I hope he will be.”
“You want me to let him know you told me?”
“Make him suffer.”
Gabriel smiles. “It’ll be good to have an objective while you’re away.”
*
Two hours later Gus has taken me out of the old town and into a smart area of closely packed houses. These aren’t exactly new but they’re grander and each one stands in its own walled garden. We look more than a little out of place: the people around here are well-dressed fains, smiling and looking happy with their position in the world. We turn down a side street. There are no cars here and it looks like the back entrances to the houses, high walls with gates in each.
Gus stops at one old worn gate, pulls out a large rusty key, and opens the gate.
Inside is a garden: small and surrounded by the high walls. The garden is completely overgrown with bushes. There’s one old tree and a shed that’s falling down.
“You wait here until he comes,” Gus says. As if I’m going to do anything else, as if I’m going to do it just because he says so.
I call him an idiot or words to that effect with some swearing to enhance it.
And it seems as though that’s all he’s wanted and he’s got me by the throat and a knife is in his hand and he’s saying, “You cocky little mong bastard. Just do as you’re told. You’re not worth shit. You’re not a true Black; you’re not even a true White. So do the thing you’re here to do and—”
I push forward so that the knife is digging into my throat and Gus pulls back, surprised. I knock the knife out of his hand and punch him short and hard, then turn and elbow him in the stomach. He’s big and all muscle but it’s got to hurt a little.
We stand there, staring at each other, and I tell him, “Just go.”
“And you just do your job.” He turns to leave but before opening the gate he says, “With your father the Alliance will win. And, when we’ve won, I’ll be settling down to a world where Whites get on with their lives and I get on with mine, like we’ve managed here for hundreds of years. I won’t go near them and don’t want them near me, and everyone should do the same so there’s no more of your kind around.” And he spits on the ground.
A few minutes after he’s left I’ve calmed down enough to think over what he’s said. According to Gus I’m not a true witch as I’m not pure Black or pure White. According to Gabriel I’m the ultimate witch, being the reunion of Black and White. According to White Witches I’m Black. According to Van I’m just an ordinary witch. And according to my father . . . I’m not sure what he thinks. Maybe I should find out when he comes. But I’m not going to ask any stupid questions about what he thinks of me.
Marcus