Punch's Cousin, Chapter 152

Mr. Punch had grown accustomed to feeling. At first, the sensations of Julian’s body were strange and foreign—almost humorous—to him. Hunger, thirst, fatigue, itchiness, aching, energy—these natural feelings confused Mr. Punch at first. Soon, he’d grown used to living in a human body full-time. In many ways, he thought, the constancy of a puppet body was much easier. Wood and papier mache feel nothing. However, soon he found there was delight in hunger inasmuch as the feeling of being full after eating was pleasurable. Pleasure—that was another thing. Joy, sorrow, worry, amusement, love, loathing—emotions—these, too, had been concepts which had confused him. Confusion in and of itself was strange. But, he’d grown to appreciate it. And, of course, there was fear. That was the one thing that he had already understood. Punch knew fear. After all, it was out of fear that he’d been born. Julian’s fear had conceived Mr. Punch in the first place. And, pain—yes, pain. Mr. Punch had grown to know pain, too.


He’d occupied Julian’s mind for thirty years. True, he’d been actively using Julian’s body for almost as long. Of course, not for as extended a period as he had then, at the end of 1852. But, for all of that time, Mr. Punch had grown to expect pain. There’d been a lot of it, too. The pain of the beating Julian had sustained in Covent Garden when thugs had handled him roughly. That was the day that Punch had first met Robert. Little did he know at the time that he and Robert would have been reunited on The Hyperion, that their lives would be forever entwined. There was the pain of the fire in the stable, the broken glass of the window which had sliced Julian’s hand when Mr. Punch spotted Arthur, the pain of being poisoned, pain in many forms…

However, the pain he experienced that night—just before the year changed to 1853—was new and frightening. At first, it was simply a dampness, a flash of red in front of his eyes, the weight of Barbara Allen atop him as the smell of gun powder wafted through the air. Then, it was a clutching hand, the grip of cold fingers around his heart, a strange combination of lightness and heaviness, ice and fire.

Was the blood that flooded into the fibers of his coat his own or Barbara’s?

It was his own.

Or, to be more accurate, it was Julian’s blood which gushed from the bullet hole just above below his clavicle. How strange it felt.

“Coo.” Mr. Punch muttered as Barbara Allen rolled off of him, scrambling to his side.

“Julian!” Barbara screamed. “Julian!”

“I ain’t Julian, Barbara.” Mr. Punch whispered as he heard Julian’s heart beating in his ears. “I’m Mr. Punch, I am.”

“Oh, Arthur,” he heard Ulrika growl. “Can’t you do anything right?”

“Animals!” Barbara screamed.

“That’s no way to talk to your husband.” Arthur chuckled.

Mr. Punch winced as the door screamed open and Iolanthe rushed in, followed by Marie Laveau, Mala and two large men.

“What is all of this?” Iolanthe demanded.

Mr. Punch shut his eyes and felt the pain. Soon, the chaos in the room was replaced with a comforting silence. The darkness was replaced with a gentle, amber light. He saw himself seated in an elegant room, hung with yellow silk drapes and filled with gilt furniture. Julian sat regally in an embroidered fauteuil.

“Come and sit with me, Mr. Punch.” Julian smiled.

“Here, where are we?” Mr. Punch asked as he joined the other half of themselves.

“We’re inside.” Julian answered.

“It’s all yellow like sunshine.” Mr. Punch answered.

“Warm and nice.” Julian nodded.

“Shouldn’t we be out there with the rest of them?” Mr. Punch asked. “I think somethin’s gone wrong.”

“It has,” Julian nodded calmly. “We’ve been shot.”

“Say,” Mr. Punch whistled. “That ain’t so good.”

“No.” Julian shook his head. “All the more reason to rest in here.”

“It’s nice in here.” Mr. Punch nodded. “Is this where you stay when I’m usin’ the body?”

“Yes,” Julian smiled. “This is the room you built for me, dear Punch.”

“I did this?” Mr. Punch looked around.

“You did.”

“Here, I got good taste.” Mr. Punch smiled.

“Yes.”

“You sure I shouldn’t be out there with them?” Mr. Punch frowned. “Seems to me I ought to be there, trying to stay alive.”

“I’m afraid there’s not much we can do.” Julian shrugged. “So, let’s rest. I wish to speak with you anyway. But, first, just rest.”

“Maybe for a minute,” Mr. Punch smiled, shutting his eyes.

When he opened them again, he was still in the phantom room with Julian, however, it had changed from yellow to icy blue.

“It’s different.” Mr. Punch mumbled.

“Yes,” Julian nodded.

“Are we dead?”

“No.” Julian shook his head. “However, now’s the time for us to have our chat.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-151? If so, you can read them here.