The Golem's Eye

could scarcely catch the words. "There's no point. We can't—" He had loosened his grip on her now; his hands hung hapless at his side.
    A tap-tap-tapping of claws on metal. "Face me, child."
     
    For a moment, Kitty considered letting Jakob go and running, herself alone, down off the bridge and away into the park. Then she despised the thought, and herself for thinking it, and turned deliberately to face the thing.
    "That's better. Direct frontal contact is preferable for the Tumbler." The monkey face did not seem particularly full of malice; if anything, its expression was slightly bored.
    Mastering her fear, Kitty held up a small, pleading hand. "Please... don't hurt us!"
    The yellow eyes widened, the black lips made a rueful pout. "I am afraid that is impossible. I have been given my orders—namely to effect the Black Tumbler upon your persons—and I cannot reject this charge without great danger to myself. Would you have me become subject to the Shriveling Fire?"
    "In all honesty, I would prefer that."
    The demon's tail twitched back and forth like that of an irritated cat; it bent a leg and scratched the back of the opposite knee with an articulated claw. "No doubt. Well, the situation is unpleasant. I suggest we get it over with as rapidly as possible."
    It raised one hand.
    Kitty put her arm around Jakob's waist. Through flesh and fabric, she felt the jerking of his heart.
    A circle of billowing gray smoke expanded from a point just in front of the demon's outstretched fingers and shot toward them. Kitty heard Jakob scream. She had just enough time to see red and orange flames flickering in the heart of the smoke before it hit her in the face with a burst of heat, and everything went dark.

6
     
    Kitty
     
    "Kitty... Kitty!"
    "Mmm?"
    "Wake up. It's time."
    She raised her head, blinked, and with a rush awoke to the roar of the theater interval. The lights in the auditorium had come on, the great purple curtain had descended across the stage; the audience had fragmented into hundreds of red-faced individuals filing slowly from the stalls. Kitty was awash in a lake of sound that beat against her temples like a tide. She shook her head to clear it, and looked at Stanley, who was leaning over the stall in front, a sardonic expression on his face.
    "Oh," she said, confusedly. "Yes. Yes, I'm ready."
    "The bag. Don't forget it."
    "I'm hardly likely to, am I?"
    "You were hardly likely to fall asleep."
    Breathing hard and brushing a loop of hair from her eyes, Kitty snatched up the bag and stood to allow a man to squeeze in front of her. She turned to follow him out along the row of stalls. As she did so, she caught sight of Fred for a moment: his dull eyes were, as always, hard to decipher, but Kitty thought she detected a trace of derision. She compressed her lips and shuffled her way into the aisle.
    Every inch of space between the stalls was crowded with people thronging variously toward the bars, the toilets, the icecream girl standing in a pool of light against a wall. Movement in any direction was difficult; it reminded Kitty of a cattle market, with the beasts being shepherded slowly through a maze of concrete and metal fencing. She took a deep breath and, with a succession of muttered apologies and judiciously applied elbows, joined the herd. She inched her way between assorted backs and bellies toward a set of double doors.
    Midway across, a tap on her shoulder. Stanley's grinning face. "Didn't think much of the show, I take it?"
    "Of course not. Dire."
    "I thought it had a couple of good points."
    "You would."
    He tutted in mock surprise. "At least I wasn't sleeping on the job."
    "The job," Kitty snapped, "comes now."
    With set face and hair disheveled, she spilled out through the doors into the side corridor that looped around the edge of the auditorium. She was angry with herself now, angry for dozing, angry for allowing Stanley to get under her skin so easily. He was always looking for any sign of weakness, trying to exploit it with the others; this would only give him more ammunition. She shook her head impatiently. Forget it: this was not the time.
    She weaved her way into the theater foyer, where a good many members of the audience were spilling out into the street to sip iced drinks and enjoy the summer evening. Kitty spilled with them. The sky was deep blue; the light was slowly fading. Colorful flags and banners hung from the houses opposite, ready for the public holiday. Glasses clinked, people