Bedlam. Derek Landy

Чтение книги онлайн.

      It was a messy business, crying.

      Sebastian hated it. His tears would fog up the lenses on his mask and his face would get all wet and dribbly and there wasn’t anything he could do about it except wait. Eventually, the mask would soak it all up, just like it did when he perspired. Or sneezed.

      Sneezing was the worst. Well, sneezing was the worst so far. Every night, before he went to sleep, he prayed that there would be no reason for him to throw up the next day.

      His suit. God, he hated that thing. The beaked mask that made him look like a crow. The heavy coat. The hat. Why was there even a hat? Why was the hat necessary?

      He hated it all. He longed to touch his own skin, to rake his fingers through his hair. Ever since he’d put the suit on, he’d been unable to scratch himself. Itches drove him mad.

      And breathing. Oh, how he missed fresh air. How he missed the taste of it. And the feel of it. A breeze. What he wouldn’t give to feel the slightest breeze against his face.

      But the worst thing about this whole mission was the loneliness. The sheer, terrifying loneliness of his situation. Every other day, he’d get an update on the continuing search for Darquesse. He’d stand there and nod while Forby took him through the details of what he was doing, pretending to grasp at least some of the fundamentals when it came to scanning an infinite number of dimensions for the slightest trace of Darquesse’s energy signature. He was sure Forby now regarded him as an idiot, and probably regretted voting for him to be the leader of their little group, but for Sebastian it was one of the few chances he got to interact with a real live person, so he loved it. He loved every mind-numbingly confusing second of it.

      And, every week, they’d have their meeting. They’d all get together at Bennet’s, or Lily’s, or Kimora’s. Never at Ulysses’s house, because his wife didn’t approve, and never at Tarry’s, because he said his place was always a dump, but they got together and they chatted and either Ulysses or Lily would bring cake, and even though Sebastian didn’t need food – his suit took care of his nourishment – and he couldn’t eat even if he wanted to, it was good. He had friends.

      But then the meeting would end, and they’d all head back to their families and to their lives, and Sebastian would return to the empty house he’d made his own, and sit there. In the dark. In the silence.

      Metaphorically, of course. Every house in Roarhaven came fully furnished and hooked up to electricity, so he actually sat in a warm, brightly lit house, watching TV or reading a book.

      But no amount of TV and no amount of books, as wonderful as they were, could ever provide him with the friendship he needed – that he’d once had, but he’d left behind. For the mission. For the damn mission.

      For the mission he was failing at.

      Of course he was going to fail. It was inevitable. He was going to let them all down. The world needed Darquesse. They needed her power, even if they didn’t realise it. And it was all up to him to find her. All up to Sebastian Tao, the Plague Doctor, the Idiot Who Was Going To Ruin Everything.

      There was a doomsday clock, somewhere in the world, and it was ticking steadily down.

      A knock on the door snapped him out of his melancholy. He opened it. Bennet stood there, holding two bottles of beer.

      “Hey, buddy,” Bennet said. “I was passing, and …”

      Sebastian frowned behind his mask. “There’s nothing beyond this house except more empty houses.”

      “Well, I meant I was in the neighbourhood and …” Bennet sagged. “The fact is, my TV packed up on me, and there’s a game on tonight that I’ve been looking forward to, so I was wondering if I could watch it with you …?”

      “Sure,” Sebastian said, the brightness in his voice surprising him. “Come on in. I’m afraid I can’t offer you anything, because I don’t eat or drink.”

      “That’s why I brought these,” said Bennet as they walked into the living room. “They’re non-alcoholic, don’t worry. I have to drive home.”

      “Wise man,” said Sebastian. He sat in the armchair, searching for the remote, while Bennet took up his position on the couch. “I’m pretty sure I have the sports channels. I vaguely remember flicking past a football game once.” He found the remote and sat back.

      “It’s nice and quiet here,” Bennet said.

      “Yeah,” Sebastian responded. “No traffic outside. No neighbours.”

      Bennet sipped his beer. “It’s been pretty quiet at my place, too. Christmas was particularly hard. I’m just used to, you know, decorations and the tree, and the music and all the fuss and the … the feeling, you know? But the house was very quiet this year. Very quiet. I didn’t bother with any of the … things. That was Odetta’s area.”