Casino Infernale by Simon R. Green Page A

here.”
    “Apart from the very thoroughly trampled body,” said Molly.
    “Well, apart from that, yes,” I said. “I suppose . . . if the White Horse is a supernatural creature, it wouldn’t have to make impressions on its surroundings if it didn’t want to.”
    “Try the Merlin Glass again,” said Molly. “I really don’t like this place.”
    “You could always teleport us out of here yourself,” I pointed out.
    She shook her head quickly. “I already tried. This whole island is set inside a mystical null, remember? I can’t get my bearings. . . . The only way off Trammell Island that doesn’t involve a boat or a hell of a long swim are the established dimensional doors, like the Fae Gate. The Merlin Glass was powerful enough to get us in; I’m hoping it can get us out.”
    I shrugged, and tried the Glass again. I murmured the activating Words, and the image in the looking glass changed immediately to reveal the Horse’s huge white head, filling the Glass. It shone out of the mirror like a spotlight, supernaturally bright. The long bony face glared at me, and then surged forward, as though trying to reach out through the Glass. The crimson eyes were wide and wild, and full of a terrible old knowledge. Great blocky teeth showed in its snarling mouth. Molly cried out. I shut down the Glass, shouting the words at the mirror, and the image disappeared. The hand mirror was just a mirror again. I put it away, in my pocket dimension.
    “It was coming through,” said Molly. She sounded shaken. “And it felt . . . so much
bigger
than any living thing has any right to be.”
    “Okay,” I said. My voice didn’t sound quite as steady as I would have liked, but I pressed on. “We are facing a very determined living god. It’s already killed two people, for reasons that aren’t clear yet. What does it want with us?”
    “Not us, Eddie,” said Molly. “With me. It wants me, because I was part of the group that tried to tame it, and break it to their will.”
    “But you weren’t a part of the Working! You didn’t know anything about it until it was all over!”
    “I don’t think the White Horse cares,” said Molly. “You saw it, in the Glass. Did that look like a rational Being to you? No, it saw me. It’s marked me. And soon it will come for me. . . .”
    “Well, tough,” I said. “It can’t have you. You’re mine.”
    She smiled at me, and put a hand on my chest. “Am I?”
    “Forever and a day,” I said, putting my hand over hers. “I know you’ve been through a lot, Molly, but you have to get a grip on yourself. It’s just a horse.”
    “Yes,” she said. “It is. And I have faced far worse, in my time.” She seemed to straighten up, and her gaze sharpened. “Time to get back in the saddle . . .”
    “Come on,” I said. “Let’s track the bloody thing down. I’ve got my armour, and you’ve got your magics; we can do this. Bloody horse isn’t going to know what’s hit it.”
    “Damn right,” said Molly. “Been a while since I’ve punched out a living god.” And then she stopped, and frowned. “But I can’t help feeling . . . that just maybe the White Horse is the innocent party in all this. It didn’t ask to be buried, called forth, and used.”
    “It’s killing people,” I said flatly. “And that crosses the line. My family exists to keep things like living gods from killing people.”
    There was another scream. It sounded like a woman, this time. Horrified, hysterical, and once again cut off, abruptly. Molly and I ran through the narrow corridors, to find the next body lying crumpled in a doorway. Stephanie Troy, who only ever wanted to do good and protect people, had been trampled to a bloody pulp. Broken bones protruded in splinters through the torn flesh, and one side of her face had been completely smashed in, a single great hoof-mark obliterating half her features. Her one remaining eye stared helplessly out, at the world that had betrayed