Book 1 - Chapter 6. Spleen (2/2)
”Yeah!” Bill-E gasps, face lighting up - then curses as Dervish shoos us out of the room and slams the door shut behind us.
The hall of portraits. Bill-E knows the faces and names off by heart. Giving me a lecture, filling me in on my family background. I listen with pretend politeness, only paying attention to the occasional juicy snippet.
”Urszula Garadex - pirate,” Bill-E intones, tapping the frame of a large canvas portrait. The woman in the picture only has one eye, and three of her fingers are missing, two on her left hand, one on her right. ”A cutthroat. Utterly merciless.
”Augustine Grady. Servant to some prince or other. Cause of death - he got kicked in the head by a horse.
”Justin Plunkton - a banker. Nothing interesting about him.”
And so on.
After a while I ask Bill-E about the teenagers and if he knows how they died.
”Dervish doesn't say much about them,” he replies. ”I think it's some ancient family curse. You'll probably go toes-up any day now.”
”I'll try hard to take you with me,” I retort.
We come to Dad and Gret. Bill-E pauses curiously. ”These are new. I don't know who - ”
”My dad and sister,” I inform him quietly.
He winces. ”I should have guessed. Sorry.” He looks at me questioningly, licks his lips, stares back at the photos.
”An unasked question is the most futile thing in the world,” I prod him.
”That's one of Dervish's sayings,” he notes. Licks his lips again. ”Do you want to tell me how they died, or is it a secret? I asked Dervish, but he won't say, and Gran and Grandad don't know - n.o.body in the village does.”
My stomach tightens. Flashes of a crocodile-headed dog, a h.e.l.l-child, their eerie master. ”They were murdered.”
Bill-E's eyes widen. His lazy left eyelid snaps up as though on elastic bands. ”No bull?” he gasps.
My expression's dark. ”No bull.”
”Do you know who did it?”
”I was there.”
Bill-E gulps deeply. ”When they were being killed?”
”Yes.”
”How'd you get away?”
I consider how much I should tell him. Decide to try him with the truth. ”They were murdered by demons. I escaped using magic.”
He frowns. ”If this is a joke...” Stops when he sees my face. ”Does Dervish know?”
”Yes.”
”He believes you?”
”Yes. But he's the only one. Everybody else thinks I'm making it up.”
Bill-E grunts dismissively. ”If Dervish believes you, so do I.” He turns from the photos and does an odd little shuffling dance, mumbling weird words.
”What was that for?” I ask, bemused.
”One of Dervish's spells,” he says. ”It makes the dead smile. Dervish says it's important to keep the dead happy. The reason this house isn't haunted is that Dervish keeps its ghosts laughing.”
”Rot!” I bellow.
”Maybe,” Bill-E grins. ”But I've been dancing for years and never been bothered by ghosts. Why stop now and run the risk?”
We watch MTV on the 55 inch widescreen TV, munching popcorn, drinking c.o.ke from tall paper cups just like in the cinema.
”The TV was my idea,” Bill-E brags, the remote control balanced on his left knee. ”Dervish resisted to begin with, but I kept on at him and eventually he bought one.”
”Does he always cave in to your demands?” I ask.
”No,” Bill-E sighs. ”I can wrap Gran and Grandad round my little finger, but Dervish doesn't crumple. He got the TV because I convinced him it was a good idea - his guests would get good use out of it even if he didn't.”
”You and Dervish are close, aren't you?” I note.
”Step aside, Sherlock Holmes - there's a new kid in town!” Bill-E chuckles, rolling his eyes.
”I don't want to... like... get between you... or anything,” I mumble awkwardly.
”You couldn't if you tried,” he responds smugly.
”I could!” I bristle. ”He's my uncle.”
”So?” Bill-E laughs. ”He's my father!”
I stare at him, stunned.
Bill-E looks sheepish. ”I shouldn't have said that,” he mutters. ”You won't tell him, will you?”
”No... but... I mean...” I catch my breath. ”You said you didn't know your father!”
”I don't,” he says. ”Not officially. But it hardly takes a genius to work it out. He wouldn't invite me over and make such a fuss of me if we weren't related. And Gran and Grandad Spleen wouldn't tolerate his involvement unless they had to, no matter how close a friend of Mum's he was. Dervish has to be my dad. It's logic.
”Have you ever asked him?”
Bill-E shakes his head instantly. ”Why spoil it? We get along great the way we are. If the truth ever came out in the open, he might decide to sue for custody.”
”Wouldn't you like that?” I ask.
He shrugs. ”I wouldn't miss Gran and Grandad that much if I moved in with Dervish,” he admits. ”I could still go and see them all the time. But if he lost, they might take out a court order to stop him seeing me. I reckon they struck a deal with him when Mum died - he could carry on visiting, or having me over to visit, as long as he never told me who he really was. If I go messing about, it might screw up everything.”
I scratch my head, thinking that over. It all seems a bit complicated to me - Dervish doesn't strike me as the sort to go in for such subterfuge. But I'm new on the scene. Bill-E has spent most of his life around my uncle. I guess he knows what he's talking about.
”This makes us cousins - if it's true,” I note.
”Yeah,” Bill-E giggles, then pokes me in the chest. ”It also makes me his son and rightful heir, so don't go getting too attached to this place, Grady, because as soon as the old man kicks it, you're out of here!”
”Charming!” I laugh, and dump the last of my popcorn over Bill-E's head.
”Hey!” Bill-E shouts, shaking kernels from his head, all over the couch and floor. ”Clean that up!”
”You clean it,” I grin wickedly. ”It's your house...”
Both of us laughing, he chases me up the stairs to my room, lobbing fistfuls of popcorn at my head all the way.
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