Carpet Diem Page 6

  “What kept you?” Daniel asked, clearly relieved to see him.

  “Mr Debovar wasn’t finished asking questions,” Faunt replied, “and it would have been rude to interrupt him. Please come in.”

  Simon followed Daniel and Lily in the door, walking past Faunt to do so. He noticed a faint odour from their host as he passed. It reminded him of forests.

  “It’s pine,” whispered Faunt just behind him.

  Simon stumbled forward. Daniel had said that Faunt knew everything, but not that he was a mind reader.

  “I’m not, as such,” said Faunt, as the four turned a corner into a candlelit, arched room, decorated in a sort of medieval style: wooden table; wooden stools; stone floor with some straw strewn around it. At one end, however, underneath a very rustic wooden kitchen counter, was a modern washer dryer, next to a huge double-door fridge. There was also a faint scraping noise, which seemed to be coming from everywhere.

  “Because I like it,” Faunt said, answering Simon’s next unspoken question. “It’s cosy, but convenient.”

  “Faunt,” interrupted Daniel, “as a courtesy to the group, it would be nice if you would allow Mr Debovar to ask his questions out loud.”

  Faunt stopped and looked studiously at the angel.

  “You don’t always have to be the centre of attention, Daniel.”

  Daniel’s face dropped. Faunt smiled benevolently.

  Simon liked him immensely.

  ----

  A short while later, the four sat around the wooden kitchen table, Faunt with a goblet of mead, Daniel with a gin and tonic, Lily with a pint of Guinness and Simon with a cup of Assam tea.

  “So, Faunt,” said Daniel, “you know why we’re here and there is presumably something you want from Mr Debovar.”

  “Good lord, Daniel,” replied Faunt. “Don’t you know it’s rude to cut straight to business? I don’t get many social visitors you know, especially not as interesting as you three. A little ‘schmoozing’ would not go amiss.”

  “Listen, Accursed…” Daniel stopped mid flow thanks to the sharp pain in his leg; the result of a stiff kick from Lily, who had until now said very little.

  Faunt turned to Daniel and smiled. “She wishes you would learn that, sometimes, the best thing is to allow the conversation to flow naturally.” Then lifted his glass and said, “Cheers.”

  Lily raised hers in return.

  Daniel stood up and limped out of the room, taking his drink with him.

  Faunt turned back to Simon, who intended to say nothing whatsoever unless asked a direct question.

  “So, Simon, the answer to the big question is this: I know everything that is, but not anything that will be. I know what you are thinking now, and I know what you have thought before now. When you think about something new, I’ll know that. But I cannot predict what you will do when you have no time to think; reactions based on instinct, or decisions made in the heat of the moment.”

  Simon stopped sipping his tea. “Oh,” he said, deciding to be very careful what he thought about Lily while they were both here. Of course, then Faunt knew he was thinking about not thinking about Lily, which made him think about her even more.

  “Relax,” said Faunt, “it’s a common reaction. The moment people hear that I know what they’re thinking, they immediately think of the things they don’t want me to know. I already know them all and I’m very discreet.”

  Simon wasn’t sure if he felt better or worse.

  “Can I tempt you with Yahtzee?” their host asked cheerily.

  Lily smiled. Simon wondered if it was possible for his life to get any weirder.

  ----

  Luke and Gabby were hanging around the gate looking decidedly conspicuous.

  “Oh, this is ridiculous,” said Gabby. “How do we stop two of the hordes who…”

  Luke grabbed Gabby firmly by both arms, pulled her up towards him and kissed her, deeply.

  It took her mind off the problem for a moment.

  As they separated, Luke answered, “By being in the right place at the right time to take advantage of the right thing.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means if we have any chance at all, we need to be where they are.”

  “That’s not a plan,” came a voice from behind them, making them both jump in alarm. “That’s ... the opposite of a plan.”

  The gatekeeper stepped towards the bars, a shadow against the flickering light on the stone behind him.

  “Follow them and hope something happens? That’s not great.”

  “Well, what do you suggest?” Luke challenged him.

  “That’s not really my job, is it?” he replied.

  “I take it he knows we’re here?” asked Luke.

  “Of course,” said the gatekeeper. “He says to drive up the hill a few miles to the next village. The hotel there has a few rooms. He said to say: ‘I agree. Have as much as you can. You never know.’ Does that mean anything to you?”

  Gabby turned a vivid shade of purple.

  “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” the giant smiled.

  Luke turned to Gabby and shrugged his shoulders in resignation.

  “Ok,” said Luke, turning back to the gatekeeper. “Thanks…”

  “Bob,” said Bob.

  “Thanks, Bob,” said Gabby, in a way she hoped belied her utter mortification at the knowledge that not only did Faunt know how they were planning to spend the evening, but Bob probably did too.

  “Oh!” Bob shouted after them as they got back on their scooters, “He says get some sleep! Too much caffeine is bad for you!”

  ----

  After four games of Yahtzee and three cups of tea, Simon got up the courage to speak a little more than just to answer questions.

  “Em, Mr Faunt? Do you play any other games? I mean, I assume Trivial Pursuits is out but what about Scrabble? Or chess?”

  “Both no good. I can’t lose. In Scrabble, I always know what letters you have, I know what the best word is from my own letters, I know what letter I have in my hand inside the bag – for you, it would be like fighting Muhammad Ali blindfolded. Chess – same problem. I know all possible moves, including yours. I know the best move to make at all times. I know what you’re most likely to do next.

  “With dice, I have no idea. I don’t know what numbers are going to come up. I know the best use of the numbers, but even that comes down to a gamble against what the dice produce next. I could play the perfect game of Yahtzee and still lose.”

  Faunt paused and smiled beatifically at Simon. “It’s bliss. There is very little in the world that a man who knows everything appreciates more than being beaten. And for that opportunity, I thank you both.”

  He raised his drink again, and Lily raised hers in return. She seemed very natural in this environment, whereas Daniel had not reappeared since walking off in a strop several hours before.

  In the ensuing silence, Simon realised that, again, he could hear a slight scraping. Then he noticed one of the things it was coming from – the stool Daniel had been sitting on earlier was halfway across the floor towards the washing machine.

  “Excuse me, but is it my imagination or is that stool moving?” Simon asked.

  “Oh yes,” said Faunt, “all the furniture does when it’s not in use.”

  “Mmm,” Lily replied, “teleporters?”

  “Bloody nuisance they are,” said Faunt. “It’s the only way to keep them out.”

  Simon felt like he’d asked a bigger question than he intended to. Again. “Did you say ‘teleporters’?” he asked Lily.

  “Yep.”

  Simon took less time than usual to assimilate this piece of terrifying information.

  “So,” Simon replied, “why the moving furniture?”

  “Ah, well,” said Faunt. “The problem with teleporters is that they need to know the layout where they’re teleporting, or they could materialize in a table. They can’t teleport into anywhere things are moving around, just
in case. So I had a very clever woman cast a little spell for me to have moving furniture. For every person prepared to trade for information, there are three who will try to take it by force.

  “Of course, they wouldn’t have much luck since I would know they were coming, when they were going to appear and what their plan was, but all the same, blood is difficult to clean out, you know? And it leaves an icky, irony smell about the place.”

  “Ok,” Simon said. It really was quite astounding what his mind was now prepared to accept without a Mexican wave of exploding brain cells.

  “Ah,” Faunt said, “I’ve reminded you that you’d quite like a bath, haven’t I? And I would like some sleep. Simon, you’re in the room at the top of the stairs on the left. A bath has been drawn for you in the en-suite. Lily, I was going to let you have the downstairs room, but Daniel has flopped off in there, so you’ll have to have the other upstairs room, to the right. You’ll find everything you need in there too – I had them moved.”

  “You’re very kind,” she said, nodding her head slightly in appreciation.

  As she and Simon headed up the stairs, Simon allowed himself a flickering notion of her sneaking into his room in the night and the idea made him smile.

  “You never know your luck!” shouted Faunt from the kitchen. Simon hoped Lily thought he was talking to her.

  Probably not.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Faunt had to be the most considerate host on Earth. Simon was luxuriating in a mammoth bath with candles that gave off the sweet, light aroma of vanilla, with a hint of cinnamon. The bath itself was filled with rose petals, which Simon thought was classy, even if he was becoming slightly concerned for his masculinity.

  There was a robe waiting for him, which he had grabbed a quick feel of before getting in - he trusted that it only felt like it was made of kittens. He was torn between sinking into the bath for longer or getting out just to snuggle into that robe and lounge on the bed, which he was certain had freshly washed Egyptian cotton sheets and would be just the right softness and length for him to get an idyllic night’s sleep.

  Faunt made Hugh Heffner look low rent. Hell, he made Hollywood look low rent.

  The way things were going, he knew that he would wake up in the morning to a perfect cup of tea and some perfectly toasted butteries.

  He felt not a single ache or discomfort anywhere in his body. It was as if someone had melted his insides into a comfy mess, then poured him into a bath full of yum.

  Of course, the half bottle of Gran Reserva Rioja that he’d got through while he soaked had helped.

  Simon’s relaxed physical state was very much at odds with his mental state, however. Despite having engaged a function of his brain he hadn’t previously been aware of - the ‘fuck it’ button - Simon was still desperately grasping for some form of perspective on everything. The fact that the world was not even remotely as banal as he had once imagined was actually something of a relief. He had little appetite for sharing the planet with the mass and throng of human chaos that each imagined themselves the most important thing in their worlds.

  Now, he had met genuinely interesting people. Who were important.

  Daniel, for all his posturing, seemed to have depth. The fact that he had a large pool of actually quite fascinating knowledge made him interesting, if patronising. It was also quite apparent that the angel’s politeness was entirely borne out of Simon’s unearned importance to him.

  Lily, Simon had very clear feelings about. He would like to feel her. She was sexy, sensuous and deliciously nice to him. But he had to bear in mind the probability that her niceties – and their implications – were just bribery.

  Faunt, Simon just liked. As far as he could tell, he wanted nothing from him, so far, more than company. Having eschewed it for an age, Simon had been reminded of something long forgotten: good company was an absolute pleasure, and a person so thoughtful, obliging and pleasant was someone Simon could see himself spending a lot of time with. If he was invited, of course.

  Simon wondered, as he poured another glass of wine, if perhaps the reason he’d locked himself away was because, in some way, he’d realised he was living in the wrong place. Perhaps he’d been meant to live amongst angels and demons and … accursed.

  The thought of belonging somewhere was alien, but he was warming to it.

  ----

  In another bed, not far away, Gabby lay awake. Just an hour ago, she and Luke had collapsed, exhausted, into bed, comforting each other with the unspoken reassurances of small caresses. For fifteen years they’d lived like this, having known each other for an eternity.

  It had been a difficult adjustment, which came naturally to neither of them. But once they got used to their new life, and to each other, they quickly came to appreciate new pleasures. She loved Luke deeply, and not just because he was the only other person who could truly understand her and appreciate the world in the way she did.

  Luke was putting on a brave face - trying to hide the fear - but she could see it. She felt it too. Neither of them knew how they were going to stop this thing from happening. But, lying next to him, stroking his chest and watching him sleep, she knew they had to try.

  What else could they do?

  ----

  Bob, unlike Simon, was not at all comfortable. Mostly because he was lying on a lumpy old mattress on a rocky shelf, inside a small room carved into the wall, just inside Faunt’s gates.

  How lucky the spider crossing the ceiling above him was. It might spend its life toiling away repetitively, spinning webs and eating flies, but at least it didn’t know that its existence was completely pointless.

  In another life, Bob had been a passably successful thief. His 6’7” frame did not lend itself to climbing in windows or crawling through ventilation shafts, but he had other skills that compensated.

  Unfortunately, one night, he broke into the wrong home.

  Antonio Calderon was an immortal – a legendary statesman and womaniser from northern Spain. Like many of his kind, he’d lived longer than he could remember and found that mere existence was too ... mundane. In search of something, anything, to make him feel, he experimented with extreme pastimes. To his surprise, the one that gave him the greatest pleasure was sadism.

  Bob could not help but cry out when he saw what the Spaniard was doing to the young man in the cage. But that was all he managed to do. Despite having almost a foot’s advantage in height, the giant was quickly overpowered by the inhumanly quick torturer. Within minutes of entering the room, Bob was gagged and chained to the wall.

  His initial, panicked disbelief, his unwavering certainty that someone would come for him faded as he listened to Calderon work. The screams were at first unbearable. Later, Bob was grateful that they drowned out the other sounds.

  When the boy finally closed his eyes for the last time, Bob took his place in the cage.

  Each day, he faded in and out of consciousness. Calderon was careful to keep him alive, but only just.

  The Spaniard also liked port. And when he drank, he talked. He talked about fantastic creatures and impossible people, including a man who knew “the answer to everything”. Bob listened.

  After weeks - maybe months - the drunken Calderon left a sliver of metal in the thief’s leg one night before passing out in a chair.

  The main skill Bob had brought to thievery was his earlier training as a locksmith. He used the shard to free himself, and easily subdued his unconscious tormentor. Realising he could not kill the beast, but unable to leave him alive, Bob conceived of a way to use Calderon’s immortality against him.

  Tossing and turning on a slab of stone, Bob knew his bed was still infinitely more comfortable than Calderon’s resting place - inside a supporting beam of one of Europe’s longest bridges.

  He trusted the boredom would be even worse, now.

  Bob was no longer the man who had entered that apartment. Desperate for a way to reconnect with his life, he’d gone looking for the “man who k
new everything”. He would never have found him, but that Faunt knew he was looking, and found him interesting.

  Bob had been prepared to swap anything for the answer to the question that now dragged at his soul: he needed to know the purpose of life.

  Finding out that he was simply supposed to enjoy it had been an oddly liberating answer, rendered bittersweet by the price: that he spend the next decade acting as Faunt’s servant.

  At least there was the occasional game of Yahtzee to lighten things up.

  ----

  Faunt smiled to himself, perusing the thoughts of the three who remained awake along with him. He did like Simon; he was a little jealous of Gabrielle; and he knew he was doing the best thing for Bob.

  That certainty helped him to relax. He crossed his hooves, placed his head on the straw and closed his eyes.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The next morning, Simon woke rested and refreshed.

  In fact, he felt reinvigorated, as if gently roused from a half-waking dream by a Listerine wash to the brain. He was wide awake, alert, thinking clearly, and ready to face the very strange world.

  He had somehow had another contender for the most restful night of his life. Long used to waking up stiff and sluggish in the morning and waiting until his muscles decided they were prepared to move comfortably enough to make coffee and breakfast, this sensation of waking up awake was extremely pleasant.

  He liked it so much that as he wandered down the stairs, happily wrapped in his big, white bathrobe, he wondered what he might be able to do to become a permanent resident chez Faunt.