The Garden of Unearthly Delights Read Online Free PDF Page B

in a polished scabbard. His
corduroy trousers bulged at the knees with pockets, which no doubt harboured
further fearsome armament.
    This
Maxwell looked like he meant business.
    ‘So,’
said the count, ‘I don’t think we have been introduced.’
    ‘The
name is Carrion,’ said Carrion, ‘Max Carrion, Imagineer.’
    ‘You
don’t look particularly imaginative, Mr Carrion. More like a cross between
Bladerunner, Terminator, Darkman and Doctor Strange.’
    ‘He
looks bloody good to me,’ croaked Maxwell, making unpleasant death-rattle
sounds in his throat. ‘But then, I am rather dull.’
    ‘And
you’ll soon be rather dead,’ said the count. ‘But not before you,’ said
Max Carrion. ‘Oh, don’t waste my time, please.’ Count Waldeck flung up his
hands and made mystical passes. A stream of purple energy arced towards the
chap in the simply splendid coat.
    The
chap moved not an eyelash.
    The
gush of power engulfed him. Stinging. Blistering. Consuming.
    Max
Carrion stood, cool and unconcerned. The count’s face contorted, he rocked upon
his heels, ground his teeth, cast further bolts of force.
    Max
took a packet of Woodbine from his pocket, withdrew one, held it towards the
flames that engulfed him and drew a puff or two.
    ‘What?’
The count grew purple in the face. His body rocked and shivered. More light
came, but weaker. And then none at all.
    ‘All
done?’ asked Max Carrion.
    ‘What?’
The count examined his fingers. They were a bit charred about the tips. He
looked all done.
    ‘I
think he’s all done,’ said Max.
    ‘I
think he is,’ said Maxwell.
    ‘What?’
went the count once more, turning to the seated poisoned fellow.
    ‘You’ve
run out of steam,’ said that man, rising to his feet, then stooping to pluck
the pistol from Danbury ’s dead
hand.
    ‘What?’
    ‘You’re
all used up. And now you’re dead.’ Maxwell turned the pistol on the count,
pulled the trigger and shot him.
    ‘Nice
one,’ said Max.
    ‘Thanks,’
said Maxwell, blowing into the barrel.
    ‘Congratulations,’
said Sir John, dusting fragments of the golden bonds away from his person.
    ‘A
first-rate job,’ agreed Dr Harney, jumping up and aiding the long man into the
vertical. ‘Most skilfully performed.’
    ‘Thanks
too,’ said Maxwell.
    Groan
and croak, went the count. ‘You shot me.’
    Maxwell
grinned down at him. ‘Well, I couldn’t have you win, could I?’
    ‘But
how did you do it? How did you change the ending? I was supposed to win.’
    Maxwell’s
grin turned towards Sir John. ‘Should I tell him?’ he asked.
    ‘I
think you should,’ said the long man. ‘The villain always gets an explanation
from his Nemesis. It’s a tradition, or an old charter, or something.
    ‘All
right.’ Maxwell looked down at the count. ‘How are you doing for time?’
    ‘I’ll
last about another minute, get a move on.’
    ‘Right.
OK. Well, it’s all quite simple really. You see, under normal circumstances, a
reader can’t change the ending of the book he’s reading. Even if he could, it
wouldn’t make any difference, because there’d be thousands of other copies
around, being read by thousands of other people.
    ‘But
you see, this is different. As Sir John explained to me earlier, I’m the
last reader. So I can do whatever I want. I read the book right through to the
end. And I didn’t like it, not with you winning and everything. So I flicked
back a few pages, got a bottle of Tippex and made some changes. I wrote myself
in. That’s how I came to be here, you see. I wrote myself in as Sir John’s new
apprentice. I already knew of Danbury ’s treachery, so I took a few precautions. Like equipping Sir John
and the doctor with bullet-proof vests and switching the poison Danbury put in my coffee for harmless
sugar.’
    ‘But
who’s the bastard in the simply splendid leather coat?’ The count made feeble
gestures towards Max Carrion.
    Maxwell’s
grin was still on full. ‘He’s a figment of my