‘I think so.’
‘What about your course? And breaking into the dominoes? Hackle…’
‘Forget them.’
But Daisy couldn’t, not really and not so easily. Instead, she told Jazir everything, everything in the dark. How the Number Gumbos had together murdered Georgie Horn, how her father was involved in this killing, in ways she didn’t yet understand. It wasn’t just Malthorpe’s fault, she was certain of that much. As a blurbfly knocked against the window, sensing Jazir was there.
A knock on a window in the night? Sure, let’s listen to one, that same precise moment, with DJ Dopejack being pulled rudely from his sleep by the incessant knocking. Turning over, pulling the sheets up over his head, willing them to go away. Blurbs against glass. In the end he had to get up, move to the window, peep through a crack…
A blue and cream rugby shirt? Zuze! Fuck! What was he doing here? Hasn’t he done enough? With a fucking blurbfly, this time. Shit! Really scared now, not another beating, please. Nigel Zuze moving back from the doorway, looking up and down the street. God, he looked bad, what had happened to all the beef? He looked like…
Suddenly, Zuze looked right up at the window, with the blurb buzzing! Dopejack jerked back, knocking over a chair. He had to get to the phone, ring the police…
The door being pounded down below, like a hammer blow.
DJ struggling with the phone, struggling to get some clothes on, find a weapon…
The door smashing in. Oh God! The sound of it. Please, no…
With Daisy and Jazir safe and warm in their cozy bed. Blurbflies outside the window. Play to lose, play to lose! Daisy had told him what Hackle had told her later, about Miss Sayer. About Malthorpe having an affair with her. How it all tied in, and what could they do about it? It was too dangerous.
‘I know Miss Sayer’s involved.’ A slow voice in the dark.
‘Did Hackle tell you already?’
‘No. She visits me.’ Idly stroking her naked thigh…
Daisy shifting her weight, rolling over to face him. ‘What?’
‘Miss Sayer, she visits me.’ Jazir, so calm.
‘When?’
‘When I’m using the computer.’
‘Jaz?’
‘It’s true. She appears on screen. She talks to me. It’s her.’
‘Why is everybody going mad?’
‘No, this was from before the project. I was young, just playing arcade games. She came to me then. Has done ever since. Lately…’
Daisy was sitting up in bed by now. ‘You’re kidding me, aren’t you?’
‘Lately… in my dreams.’
‘Right.’
‘Listen to me! She’s asking for help, I think. Something’s gone wrong. She won’t let me tell anyone. I think she’s scared, can’t trust anybody. Only me.’
‘Why you?’
Jazir shook his head slowly. ‘I don’t know. Oh God, Daisy… things are happening to me, aren’t they? What should I do? Lately…’
Daisy held him tight as he spoke. ‘Lately I’ve been seeing things.’
‘What kind of things?’
‘Images, from the city.’
Images from the city? Here’s one Jazir is missing: DJ Dopejack back at his computer, bloodstained fingers travelling rapid-fire over sticky keys, making a mess of words…
‘Images from the city,’ said Jazir. ‘It’s like I’m… don’t laugh at me…’
‘I’m not.’
‘It’s since I got bitten. Like I’m looking through a blurb’s eyes.’
Looking through a blurb’s eyes? Here’s one, flying over a street in Whalley Range. The houses below, the rain in your eyes. A car travelling along below you. Float down, keep apace. Look inside and what do you see? A young man, night black, mad eyed and speeding to the house where Dopejack lives, to throw his lot in with the DJ. To get back at Hackle and Joe for betraying him. Betraying the love and the trust and the years of pain gone to waste. Yeah, Sweet Benny and the DJ, cracking the bone-code together, hitting the big prize. It was late, but so what? He’d knock Dopejack up. What was the time now, only a series of moments, bringing him closer…closer…
With Daisy saying, ‘OK. What can you see now?’
With Jazir replying, ‘Nothing. Only you. It doesn’t happen at will. It just…’
‘It just happens, don’t tell me.’
‘I saw you and Celia at the grave of Eddie.’
‘Jaz! You imagined it.’
‘Maybe so, but lately I’ve been trying to fly.’
Daisy actually got up at this point. ‘No. I’m not putting up with this.’