Night Fall

  “I know,” said Hadleigh. “I know.”

  They both disappeared. The Authorities waited a moment, to see if they might return again, and when that didn’t happen, they all sat down. Julien looked at the others.

  “Did we just sacrifice one of our own, to stop the Droods?”

  “Better Larry than the rest of us,” said Brilliant.

  “How can you say that?” Annie said angrily.

  “Because Larry is dead,” said Brilliant, entirely unmoved. “He’s already had more time than he was entitled to. Who knows? Being dead might be just what he needs to survive this.”

  “Hush,” said Jessica. “Someone’s coming.”

  They all sat still, listening, but couldn’t hear anything.

  “I’m not hearing anything!” said Alex from behind the bar, just to remind them he was still there.

  “Are you sure, Jessica?” said Brilliant.

  He broke off as heavy footsteps descended the metal stairs.

  “How does she do that?” said Annie.

  “Because she’s not all there,” said Julien. “So, not surprisingly, sometimes she’s somewhere else.”

  Betty and Lucy Coltrane came down the stairs at a steady pace, bringing with them Charlotte ap Owen and her cameraman Dave. Betty had Dave by an ear, while Lucy had Charlotte in a head-lock. The bouncers stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked to Alex for instructions. He shook his head disgustedly.

  “Just when you think things can’t possibly get any worse, that’s when the television news turns up.” He looked at the Authorities. “What do you want me to do with them? I could always whip up some boiling oil, maybe some tar and feathers . . .”

  “Let them go,” said Julien. “They are journalists, in their own way. And I am curious as to what brought them here.”

  Alex nodded reluctantly to the Coltranes, and they released their captives. Dave scuttled away from Betty and checked that his camera was okay. Charlotte straightened up, checked her hair was still in place, then opened her mouth to complain. Julien gave her a look, and she didn’t. Alex sniffed loudly.

  “You know, I can remember when this used to be my place, and people listened to what I had to say . . .”

  “Shut up, Alex,” said Annie.

  Betty and Lucy disappeared out the back. Charlotte looked after them.

  “Do they ever talk?”

  “Not in public,” said Alex. “They’re shy.”

  “Shy?” said Brilliant. “Them! They once ate their own dog!”

  “Times were hard,” said Alex.

  Dave started to aim his camera at the Authorities. Brilliant looked at him, and Dave pointed the camera at the floor. Brilliant looked at him some more, and Dave turned the camera off.

  “Point that thing at me again,” said Brilliant, “and I’ll turn you into something.”

  He didn’t specify what. Somehow, that made it worse.

  “What are you doing here, Charlotte?” said Julien. “I thought the news was out there on the streets, not in here with us.”

  “We have a recording to show you,” Charlotte said quickly. “It’s Droods in action, plus an exclusive interview with their Sarjeant-at-Arms. You really need to see this. If we can agree on a reasonable fee . . .”

  “I don’t like your shoes,” said Jessica.

  Charlotte looked down at her suddenly bare feet and swallowed hard. She turned to Dave.

  “Play the recording.”

  Dave checked with Brilliant that this was okay, then turned his camera back on and made some adjustments. A viewscreen appeared, floating on the air before them, and the Authorities watched a complete record of what happened when the Sarjeant led his people into the business area. The toppling of the building, the stopping of the traffic, the Droods killing drivers. And finally, the Sarjeant’s words caught on audio, revealing his intentions. Dave shut his camera down, and the Authorities looked at each other.

  “I’d heard reports . . .” Julien said slowly. “But I had no idea things had got so out of hand. That wasn’t a battle, like the Hawk’s Wind. That was just Droods killing people because they could.”

  “And it’s getting worse,” said Dave. “You wouldn’t believe the kind of things we saw on the way here . . .”

  “What else would you expect, from Droods?” said Annie.

  “No,” said Julien. “I’ve worked with some of them. Sat drinking with some of them, right here in Strangefellows. They were never this bad.”

  “It’s the Nightside,” said Jessica. “The long night has its effect on everyone.”

  “We have to strike back!” said Annie. “Before they kill someone we care about.”

  “Oh God,” said Charlotte. “You don’t know. I’m so sorry.”

  Annie looked at her. “Know what?”

  Charlotte swallowed hard. “It happened in the Mammon Emporium. Everyone’s talking about it. The Sarjeant-at-Arms killed the rogue vicar Tamsin MacReady and her friend.”

  Annie lurched to her feet, swaying unsteadily, and looked around as though she didn’t recognise anyone. “My daughter is dead?”

  Julien stood up to comfort her, and she turned on him savagely.

  “The Droods murdered my daughter! I’ll see them all dead for this!” She stopped for a moment, breathing hard, and when she spoke again, her voice was almost inhumanly cold. “I will make them pay, and I will make them suffer, and when I am done, there will not be a single Drood left alive to poison this world with their presence.”

  She turned her back on the Authorities and stamped heavily up the metal stairs. Running away from her pain and towards her revenge. Brilliant Chang got to his feet and went after her. The ex-enforcer going to support the ex-assassin because he knew all about revenge and what it could do to you. Charlotte looked at Julien and Jessica, then at her cameraman. He nodded reluctantly.

  “We have to be going,” said Charlotte. “We still have a story to cover.”

  “Do a good job,” said Julien. “Be a real reporter, for once.”

  “I can do that,” said Charlotte.

  She hurried up the stairs, with Dave right behind her. Julien looked at Jessica.

  “Why didn’t you go with Annie?”

  “Because I don’t do the revenge thing any more,” said Jessica. “Or the Nightside wouldn’t be here. Find me something better to do, Julien.”

  “I’ll think of something,” he said.

  They got to their feet and made their way steadily up the metal stairs. The bar was suddenly very quiet. Alex let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

  “I thought they’d never go. Betty! Lucy! I want all the entrances and exits sealed and barricaded. And make sure all the defences and protections are still operating. I don’t want anyone else getting in. Oh, this is going to be a really long night, I can tell . . .”

  * * *

  • • •

  John Taylor walked down a deserted street, his footsteps eerily loud in the quiet. Most of the buildings around him had been smashed in or burned out. Thick twists of smoke still hung on the air. The fighting had moved on, but the destruction and the bodies remained. John would have liked to stop and check the fallen, to see if he recognised anyone, but he had to keep moving. He had to do something even if he hadn’t worked out what. He finally decided on Strangefellows. He’d heard the Authorities were there.

  He took out his gold pocket-watch, but when he tried to use it, nothing happened. He looked at the watch, blinked a few times, then gave it a good hard shake. He’d never known it to fail him before, ever since the previous Walker gave it to him. He concentrated and called on his gift for finding things. He needed an answer. His gift squirmed uneasily in his mental grasp; then a vision appeared before him. Of a large and mysterious machine surrounded by people in white lab coats. Knowledge came to Jo
hn that he was looking at the dimensional engine Alpha Red Alpha, deep under Drood Hall. The machine that brought the Droods into the Nightside. It was broadcasting a signal to shut down all Timeslips in the long night and make sure no one could get in or out. And that included the Timeslip in his watch.

  John let the vision go. His head ached. He put the watch away and got out his phone; but when he called Suzie, no one answered. John swore briefly. She must be working. He called on his gift again, to find Suzie. This time the vision showed him Suzie facing two Droods in their armour, in the corridors of the Mammon Emporium. A fierce pain stabbed through his head, and he lost his concentration and the vision. John swore some more and went running down the street, looking for some traffic he could commandeer.

  It took him three streets before he could find anything moving. An ambulance sailed right past him, sirens wailing. An articulated rig didn’t even slow down when he hailed it, and a taxi actually growled at him for getting too close. He tried to flag down a motor-cycle courier, and when the man just drove straight at him, John gritted his teeth and used his gift to find the bike’s ignition and shut it down. He stepped aside as the motor-cycle skidded to a halt, then strode over to it. The courier, a beefy young man in shocking pink Lycra and steampunk goggles, started to yell at John, then saw who he was. He shut up immediately and got off the bike.

  “I’m taking this,” said John.

  “Of course! Go right ahead! Please don’t kill me!” said the courier, backing away. He watched John get on the motor-cycle and study the controls dubiously. “Excuse me, Walker, sir, but . . . do you actually know how to ride a motor-bike?”

  “I’m in a hurry,” said John. “I’ll work it out as I go.”

  “Stop fighting me,” the bike said inside John’s head. “I’ll get you there. Where to?”

  “The Mammon Emporium,” said John. “And don’t stop for anything.”

  “That’s what I like to hear!” said the bike.

  It started itself and roared off down the road, with John hanging on grimly for dear life. The bike accelerated through the streets, dodging around the patchy traffic, singing loudly Here I come to save the day!

  * * *

  • • •

  Ioreth and Magnus returned to the Mammon Emporium with one of the Sarjeant’s local contacts, Harry Fabulous. He hadn’t been hard to find; he’d been looking for a Drood to report to. A shabby man in shabby clothes, Harry had a hard-worn face, unreadable eyes, and a professional smile that meant nothing at all. After a lifetime of being everyone’s Go To Guy for absolutely everything that was bad for you, Harry finally made a deal too far in the back room of a Members-Only Club in a really bad part of town. He never talked about what had happened that night, but afterwards he led a life of desperate penance, trying to atone for something through a great many good deeds.

  While still making a profit on every deal, of course.

  Ioreth and Magnus wanted to introduce Harry to the Matriarch, so he could tell her what he’d told them, about the Droods’ blocked communications. Apparently they were doing it to themselves. Harry had talked to people who understood such things, and they said it was a side-effect of what Alpha Red Alpha was doing to the Timeslips. And only the Matriarch had the authority to decide whether or not to stop doing it. But as Ioreth and Magnus led Harry deeper into the mall’s corridors, it quickly became clear the Matriarch and the rest of the Droods had moved on. All they’d left behind were two bodies, in a large pool of drying blood. Harry shook his head sadly.

  “Tamsin MacReady, the rogue vicar; and her girl-friend, Sharon. Your family shouldn’t have done this. These young ladies were well-known as good people.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Ioreth. “Why would we kill a vicar?”

  “Something must have happened here,” said Magnus.

  “Like what?” said Ioreth. “How could a vicar pose a threat to us?”

  “By disagreeing with you,” said a cold voice behind them. Ioreth and Magnus turned around quickly and found themselves facing a very pregnant woman in black leathers, covering them with a double-barrelled pump-action shotgun. Ioreth sucked in a sharp breath.

  “Oh shit . . .”

  “What?” said Magnus. “Ioreth? What are you hyperventilating for, it’s only a gun!”

  “Don’t you know who that is?” said Ioreth. “Didn’t you read the briefing or at least look at the photos? That’s Shotgun Suzie!”

  “Really?” said Magnus. “I didn’t think she’d be so . . . pregnant.”

  “I think I’ll be going now,” said Harry Fabulous.

  “You stay right where you are, Harry,” said Suzie. “How long have you been working for the Droods?”

  He shrugged quickly, which was his default response to most questions. “You know how it is, Suzie. I work for anyone. Just like you.”

  “I haven’t betrayed the Nightside,” said Suzie.

  “It’s only a matter of time,” said Harry. “As long as you have that sword on your back.”

  Suzie didn’t take her eyes off the two Droods, but when she spoke, there was a certain caution in her voice.

  “You know about Wulfsbane?”

  “I know of it,” said Harry. “Enough to be properly scared. That thing is dangerous.”

  Suzie smiled slowly at Ioreth and Magnus. “Yes, it is. A blade sharp enough to cut through Drood armour. And Droods.”

  Magnus smiled right back at her. “Good. I love a challenge.”

  “Are you crazy?” said Ioreth, his voice rising. “This is Shotgun Suzie!”

  “And we’re Droods!” Magnus said fiercely. “Man up, Ioreth! You need to get out of the Library more.”

  “And you need to read the damn briefings!” said Ioreth, just as fiercely. “Suzie Shooter is a bounty-hunter in the Nightside, which means she makes a living tracking down people and things even a Drood field agent would think twice about bothering. She’s killed more people than you’ve ever met, and you can bet good money she’s killed worse things than Droods. And as if all that wasn’t enough, she’s John Taylor’s wife.”

  “Good,” said Magnus. “She’ll make a fine hostage. Once he finds out we’ve got his wife, he won’t dare give us any more trouble.”

  Ioreth looked at Harry. “You talk to her. She won’t listen to me.”

  “Ioreth!” said Magnus. “Stop talking and armour up! We can take one woman with a shotgun!”

  “That gun is what killed Luther Drood,” said Harry.

  Ioreth and Magnus looked at Suzie, and even Ioreth’s gaze grew colder. Suzie stared back at them unflinchingly.

  “How were you able to kill a Drood with a shotgun?” said Magnus.

  “Strange-matter bullets,” said Suzie. “You can find anything in the Nightside. Don’t worry. I have enough left for both of you.”

  Magnus and Ioreth armoured up in a moment and dived in different directions. Suzie’s reactions were fast enough for her to get off two separate shots, but she still couldn’t match the speed of Droods in their armour. She missed both times, and before she could fire again, Ioreth and Magnus surged forward and hit her from different directions. Ioreth grabbed hold of the shotgun, jerked it out of Suzie’s hands, and threw it away. Magnus hit Suzie with a lowered shoulder. The impact slammed Suzie back against the wall, and she cried out despite herself. The blow broke her left arm and stove in most of her rib-cage. She fell to her knees, pain screaming all through her left side. She gritted her teeth, brought her head up, and looked for her shotgun. It was lying on the floor some distance away. Ioreth saw her look and kicked the gun even farther out of reach.

  “Bastard,” said Suzie.

  The effort made her cough, and blood sprayed from her mouth. Pain stabbed through her, suggesting at least one rib had pierced her lung. Her left arm hung uselessly at her side. She thought about the other weapons scatte
red about her person, but none of them were any use against a Drood in armour. She spat out a mouthful of blood and raised her head to smile coldly at the Droods standing before her. Suzie’s teeth were slick with blood, and more of it spilled down her chin as her smile widened. Magnus smiled back at her.

  “One for Luther. You can surrender now or die. It’s up to you, bounty-hunter.”

  “I have a better idea,” said Suzie.

  She forced herself up on her feet, with an effort that made her head swim, and drew Wulfsbane from the long scabbard on her back. That took no effort; the sword seemed to leap into her hand. Just holding the Infernal Device made her feel stronger. Ioreth and Magnus glanced quickly at each other, as their armour picked up on the power blazing in the long blade. It glowed a poisonous yellow in the flat mall light, and the sword had a terrible presence all its own. Harry Fabulous stumbled backwards, then turned and ran for his life.

  “Do you know what that is, Ioreth?” said Magnus.

  “I’ve read about things like it,” said Ioreth, just a bit breathlessly, “but I never thought I’d see one. That . . . is an Infernal Device.”

  “It’s spooking the shit out of my armour,” said Magnus. “How dangerous is it?”

  “Very,” said Ioreth.

  “Could it really cut through our armour?”

  “Yes! That sword was made to cut through the world.”

  “We can still take her!” said Magnus. “Look at the state of her.”

  “We have to take her,” said Ioreth. “Or the sword will kill us both.”

  They moved apart again, to split Suzie’s attention and come at her from different sides again. Suzie kept her back against the wall, sweeping the long blade back and forth in steady arcs, ready to take on whichever Drood came within reach first. Her face was deathly pale and slick with sweat, and pain stabbed through her with every breath, but the sword in her hand was perfectly steady. Wulfsbane made her strong, so it could use her to kill.

  Magnus formed her hand into a gun and shot Suzie twice in the heart. But Wulfsbane moved impossibly fast, so that it was in just the right place to block and absorb the strange-matter bullets. The yellow blade swallowed them up, and the bullets screamed as the Infernal Device devoured them. For the first time, Magnus was shaken. She’d never heard her armour scream before. She dismissed the gun; grew a long, golden sword from her hand; and charged Suzie, trusting to her armour’s strength and speed to make her unstoppable. Ioreth attacked with his own blade from the other side. Wulfsbane beat Magnus’ blade aside and then swept back to shoot past Ioreth’s sword and run him through. Wulfsbane punched through his stomach and out his back, and the golden armour didn’t even slow it down. Ioreth cried out and fell to his knees, his sword collapsing back into his hand as he lost concentration. As Suzie jerked the blade out of his body, he cried out and fell onto his side in a spreading pool of his own blood. His armour retreated back into his torc, leaving him exposed and vulnerable, as though it couldn’t bear to be anywhere near the awful wound Wulfsbane had made.