Night Fall

  The Sarjeant-at-Arms forced himself to his feet. Anastasia’s body had sheltered him from the worst of the flames, but he could feel them even through his armour. Half of Anastasia’s armour was gone, revealing burned and blackened flesh. The Sarjeant looked around him, but all he could see was fire. He couldn’t even find the way out. And then Anastasia lurched suddenly to her feet. Her mask was gone, her face just a scorched and blackened mask. Her lipless smile showed teeth fixed in a death’s-head grin. She grabbed hold of the Sarjeant with her one golden arm, picked him up, and threw him at the jungle with all her remaining armoured strength. He shot through the air, smashing through trees as if they were nothing, until finally he crashed and rolled to a halt on the far side of the jungle, back at the entrance to the Garden. The door stood open before him. He forced himself onto his feet and looked back, but all he could see was flames. He said Anastasia’s name once, then turned and stumbled out of the Garden of Delights and into the cool night air.

  * * *

  • • •

  Conrad caught up with the Matriarch and her people inside the Mammon Emporium, a huge hypermarket packed with shops and businesses offering all kinds of goods from all kinds of Earths and adjoining dimensions. The Droods had slowed down in spite of themselves, fascinated by the contents of the shop-windows. DVDs of the Beatles’ second animated film, Penny Lane Forever. Stephen King’s paranormal romance, Summer Nights in ’Salem’s Lot. Old vinyl of the Rolling Stones, with Marianne Faithfull as their lead singer; and Wham! featuring Boy George and Luke from the Bros. The Matriarch tried to keep them moving, but she was tempted and just a little distracted herself.

  The shops and the corridors were completely deserted. Doors hung open, lights were still on, but the customers and staff were long gone. They’d heard the Droods were coming. The Matriarch looked around sharply as she heard approaching footsteps, only to relax as she recognised Conrad. He had already lowered his armour, so she armoured down too to greet him.

  “Something in the Nightside is interfering with our communications,” said Conrad. “The Sarjeant has been trying to reach you but couldn’t get through, so he sent me to bring you up to speed on what’s been happening.”

  “I wondered why I hadn’t heard from him,” said the Matriarch. “Whatever it is, it’s probably only going to get worse as we go on. Whether it’s deliberate jamming or just something about the nature of the Nightside. I’ve already sent Ioreth and Magnus off on their own, to scout ahead.”

  “I have . . . concerns, about the Sarjeant,” said Conrad. “Some of the tactics he’s been using . . .”

  The Matriarch nodded grimly. “I know . . . I told him to stop the traffic to make a point, not kill a whole bunch of people. It’s the Nightside. It brings out the worst in us. But in the end . . . the Sarjeant will follow his orders. As long as people don’t try to fight him, he won’t hurt them.”

  “The streets I walked through to get here were pretty much empty,” said Conrad. “People are hiding from us.”

  “Just like here,” said the Matriarch. She indicated the empty mall with a wave of her hand. “You know this isn’t what I wanted. I really thought a place as practical as the Nightside would do the sensible thing in the face of overwhelming forces and surrender. No one needed to get hurt. But if parts of the Nightside are determined to defy Drood authority, they have only themselves to blame for what happens.”

  And then they both looked around sharply, as they were hailed by a loud and cheerful voice. Bounding down the deserted hallway towards them came a young woman in a simple grey suit and a white vicar’s collar. A much taller woman strode along beside her, in a brown leather jacket, riding britches, and boots. The vicar crashed to a halt in front of the bemused Matriarch and smiled winningly at her. Barely five feet tall, she looked at first glance as though a strong breeze would blow her away; but she had a presence to her, of someone ready to walk through walls to get to where she had to go. Her sharp face was softened by kind eyes and a ready smile, and her frizzy blonde hair was held in place by a cheap plastic headband.

  Her much larger companion was a healthy-looking young woman with a high-boned face, tufty red hair, and bright green eyes. A typical country-set type, all hunting and riding and fishing, with a big appetite for all that life had to offer. She didn’t smile.

  The vicar looked around at the watching Droods, waved cheerfully to them, then thrust out a tiny hand for the Matriarch to shake. The movement was so emphatic, the Matriarch found herself shaking hands with the vicar before she could stop herself. The young woman smiled brightly.

  “Hello there! I’m Tamsin MacReady, rogue vicar. The Christian Church’s very unofficial representative in the Nightside.”

  “We don’t answer to Churches,” said the Matriarch, struggling to regain the high ground. “We’re the Droods. Churches answer to us.”

  “Gosh,” said Tamsin. “How very Drood of you.”

  “What are you doing here?” said Conrad.

  “We save sinners,” said Tamsin. “So we have to go where the sinning is. Allow me to present my companion and body-guard, Sharon Pilkington-Smythe.”

  The big woman just nodded briefly and made no move to shake hands.

  “Why does a vicar need a body-guard?” Conrad asked.

  “Silly!” Tamsin said brightly. “We are in the Nightside, you know. It can get a bit rough, at times. You must have noticed.”

  “And Tamsin will insist on trying to see the best in everyone,” said Sharon. “So she has me, to be the practical one. No one messes with my beloved.”

  The two women smiled fondly at each other.

  “Not now, darling,” said Tamsin. “Working!” She fixed the Matriarch with an earnest stare. “You have to stop the fighting. It’s not doing anyone any good. You must know brute force won’t win the day here.”

  “All people have to do is stop resisting us,” said the Matriarch. “And then there won’t be any trouble. We have come to place the Nightside under Drood control, for the good of the world.”

  “People are dying,” said Tamsin.

  “The quicker we win this war, the fewer people will die,” said the Matriarch. “Tell your people to stop fighting.”

  “They won’t listen to me,” said Tamsin. “I’m just the rogue vicar. It’s all I can do to stop them stealing money from the collection plate.”

  “Then talk to the Authorities,” said the Matriarch. “Wherever they’re hiding themselves. Help us negotiate a peaceful surrender.”

  “They might listen to you, Tamsin,” said Sharon. “Where they wouldn’t, or couldn’t, to a Drood.”

  Tamsin was thinking about that when the Sarjeant-at-Arms arrived. They all looked around as he came staggering down the corridor, one halting step at a time. Half his armour looked as though it had been hit by a blow-torch. Large sections had melted and congealed again. It was starting to repair itself but only slowly. His unsteady footsteps sounded like warning bells in the sudden hush. He finally came to a halt before the Matriarch, and his naked face was full of a terrible loss. The Matriarch had to force herself to meet the cold light in his eyes.

  “My people are dead,” he said. “All of them. Murdered. Burned alive.”

  The Droods muttered together, as much at the way he sounded as the news he brought.

  “You see!” said Tamsin. “You don’t know what you’re getting into here! Let me help . . .”

  The Matriarch turned on her viciously. “My people are dead! My family! We were ready to accept a peaceful surrender, and this is what they do to us! I will make the Nightside pay for this. Starting with you.” She turned to the Sarjeant. “Arrest these women. I want them paraded through the streets as our captives, to show what happens to anyone who gets in our way.”

  “You can’t do that!” said Sharon.

  The Matriarch gestured for the Sarjeant to take the two wome
n away. He grabbed Tamsin by the arm. She pulled free and reached out to the Matriarch. The Sarjeant shot her in the back. The rogue vicar crashed to the floor and lay still, blood pouring from her mouth. Sharon cried out in horror and fell to her knees beside the dead woman. Tears streamed down her face.

  “Get them out of here!” said the Matriarch.

  The Sarjeant hauled Sharon to her feet. She threw him off with inhuman strength, and in a moment the country-set girl was gone, replaced by a huge and awful demon, with bottle-green scales and vicious claws. Her long muzzle opened to reveal rows of jagged teeth, as she howled her shock and grief. Demon wailing for her woman lover. And then she threw herself at the Matriarch.

  Conrad went to intercept her, and she slammed him aside with one sweep of her arm. The Sarjeant shot her from behind, and it didn’t even slow her down. Other Droods came rushing forward and cut at her with golden swords and axes. She lashed about with appalling strength, and demonic claws cut through golden armour as if it were paper. Flesh tore, and blood flew on the air. Droods fell to the floor, and not all of them got up again. The Sarjeant called up the exorcism function in his armour and hit the demon with a blast of brilliant light and compelling Latin. And the demon turned back into Sharon Pilkington-Smythe.

  She hesitated, caught by surprise, and the Sarjeant shot her in the back of the head. The bullet burst out her left eye-socket, and the impact threw Sharon to the floor. She crouched on all fours for a moment, head hanging down, blood spilling onto the floor. She started to crawl towards Tamsin, and the Sarjeant shot her again. She fell forward onto her ruined face and stopped moving. The Sarjeant turned to face the shocked Matriarch.

  “That is why we can’t go easy on these people. Can’t show them any mercy. Because we can never be sure exactly what we’re dealing with.”

  “Go out into the Nightside, Sarjeant,” the Matriarch said steadily. “Gather up as many of our people as you need, and bring the Nightside under our control by whatever means you consider necessary. Find the Authorities, and make them kneel to us. Kill them if they won’t. They wanted a war; you show them what that means.”

  Conrad came over to join them and looked at the dead women on the floor.

  “None of this would have happened if we’d arrived where we were meant to, in the heart of the Nightside.”

  “The Nightside has no heart,” said the Matriarch.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Good Deaths and Bad

  When a bar is as well-known as Strangefellows, one of the problems is that some people think they can just walk right in. For the most part, much-reported stories about how the regulars behave were enough to make dropping in for a swift drink seem like a really bad idea. But there are people in the Nightside so dangerous in their own right that a little thing like a reputation for appalling behaviour and supernatural menace doesn’t even slow them down. People like the Authorities, for example.

  Three of them came clattering down the metal stairs into the bar: Jessica Sorrow the Unbeliever, Annie Abattoir the ex-assassin, and Brilliant Chang the ex-enforcer. The expressions on their faces would have been enough to intimidate most people into keeping their heads down and trying not to be noticed, but Alex Morrisey wasn’t most people. He glowered at the three Authorities from behind the safety of his bar, secure in the knowledge that he had a great many useful weapons tucked away within easy reach.

  “What do you want?” he said loudly. “In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s a war on. A great many more than usually unpleasant people are roaming the streets, and we are officially closed, for the duration.”

  “Not any more you’re not,” said Annie, striding into the bar as though she meant to take it by force of arms.

  “We need somewhere to talk where we can be sure the Droods can’t listen in,” said Brilliant. “And everyone knows Strangefellows has the best protections in the Nightside.”

  Alex couldn’t help but recognise such an obvious appeal to his pride but still couldn’t resist it. “All right, since you’re here . . . At least have the decency to buy a great many drinks. And choose something expensive!”

  Annie and Brilliant studied the long rows of bottles set out behind the bar. Now Alex had brought the subject up, they felt like they could use a drink. In fact, they felt like they deserved one. Jessica drifted down the bar to make friends with Alex’s pet vulture. Anyone else, it would have had their eyes out for such effrontery, but Jessica just scratched the nasty creature under the beak, and the vulture cooed happily back at her. Jessica looked at Alex.

  “Does your vulture have a name?”

  “Agatha,” said Alex. “After my ex-wife. May she rest in peace.”

  “I didn’t know your ex was dead,” said Brilliant.

  “She isn’t,” said Alex. “It’s just wishful thinking.”

  “I’ll have a Bloody Nail,” said Annie.

  “One large gin with vampire’s blood coming right up,” said Alex.

  “I’ll have a Talisker whiskey,” said Brilliant. “Double, no ice, no water.”

  “A man with taste,” said Alex, as he busied himself with the drinks. “We don’t get many of those in here.” He glanced down the bar. “What about Little Miss Scary?”

  “I heard that . . .” said Jessica, without looking around.

  “Give her a Perrier,” said Annie. “It’s easier on all our nerves.”

  “Heard that too . . .” said Jessica.

  Everyone looked around as more footsteps descended the metal staircase, then they all relaxed as Julien Advent and Larry Oblivion emerged into view. Annie gave Julien a hard look.

  “Didn’t take you long to come back after walking out on us. What happened to change your mind?”

  “I still had hope then,” said Julien, as he and Larry came to the bar. “Hope that the Droods could be reasoned with. I have been proven wrong.”

  Annie looked like she was about to say something sharp, but Larry got in first.

  “The Hawk’s Wind Bar and Grill has been destroyed,” he said flatly. “Along with several of its regulars. I turned up just in time to save Julien from a Drood firing squad.”

  Annie and Brilliant looked honestly shocked. Partly at the loss of a Nightside landmark and partly that the Droods would try to kill one of the Nightside’s few real heroes. Julien looked at Larry.

  “Tell me, how did you know I needed saving?”

  “I’m dead,” said Larry. “Which means I hear things the living don’t and know things they wouldn’t want to.”

  “You want a drink?” said Brilliant, just to make it clear he wasn’t even a little bit impressed. “Annie’s in the chair.”

  “I am?” said Annie.

  Larry ordered a glass of formaldehyde, with a crème de violet chaser. Alex didn’t even blink. He’d been asked for worse.

  Brilliant raised an elegant eyebrow in Larry’s direction. “That’s a hell of a drink for anyone still moving around. Have you been talking to Dead Boy?”

  “I wouldn’t lower myself,” said Larry. “Just because we’re both dead doesn’t mean we have anything in common.”

  “Snob,” said Annie, not unkindly.

  “Standards have to be maintained,” said Larry. “Even if you do happen to be mortally challenged. Julien, what are you drinking?”

  “Really not in the mood,” said Julien.

  “Best time to have a drink,” Alex said wisely. “Either it’ll help cheer you up, or it’ll put you in a mood to go and do something to whichever bastards are responsible for your present mood.”

  “I’ll have an Angel’s Tears,” said Julien. “Do you still have the bottle with the wing feather in it?”

  “If he has, I’m not paying for it,” said Annie.

  “Give him the bottle, Alex,” said Brilliant. “I’m good for it.”

  Alex produced an unlabelled bottle from be
neath the bar. The glass was extra thick to make sure the contents stayed inside. They surged menacingly back and forth as Alex wrestled with the wired-on cork. The pure white feather twitching in the cloudy liquid shone with a supernaturally bright light because Angel’s Tears is not a brand name. Alex poured a decent amount into a shot-glass, then stepped back to let Julien deal with it. Julien glared at the bottle, and the contents grew still. He sipped his drink and nodded.

  “Heavenly,” he said. He looked at the other Authorities. “The Droods have to be stopped. By whatever means necessary.”

  “That covers a lot of ground,” Brilliant said carefully.

  “Fight fire with fire,” said Larry, knocking back his drink and gesturing to Alex for another. “If you want to stop something powerful, raise something even more powerful.”

  “What could possibly go wrong with a plan like that?” said Annie. “Apart from pretty much everything.”

  “I was thinking about some of the things sleeping under the Nightside, in the World Beneath,” said Larry. “Whether they wipe out the Droods or the Droods wipe them out, we’d still come out ahead.”

  “I was thinking about the Lord of Thorns,” said Julien. “He was put here to be Overseer to the Nightside.”

  “I can’t see him listening to us,” said Brilliant. “Not after the old Walker pretty much neutered him, on the orders of the old Authorities.”

  Annie gave Larry a thoughtful look. “Your brother Hadleigh is the Detective Inspectre.”

  “Seriously?” said Brilliant. “You want to bring Hadleigh into this? Aren’t things bad enough without getting him involved?”