“Give it up, Henry,” said Mark. “It’s over. Your time is up. You knew that once; it’s why you retired. Come with us, old friend.”
“But you’re dead,” said Henry.
“So are you,” said Charles. “You really did die when you fell into that pit. It’s only your stored magics and your own stubborn will that’s kept you going all this time.”
“That’s why you couldn’t settle into retirement,” said Mark. “And why your family barely noticed you. Deep-down, you all knew the truth.”
“Well,” said Henry. “That does explain a lot.” He smiled at John, then at Eddie, before producing the Soul of Albion from his waistcoat pocket and tossing it lightly to Eddie.
“Let’s go,” said Mark.
“The Hereafter isn’t what you think it is, Henry,” said Charles. “There’s still lots of good work to be done.”
“That’s all I ever wanted,” said Henry.
The three old friends strode through the Door and into the Light. The Door closed behind them, and disappeared.
Eddie and John were left standing together on top of Griffin Hill, facing Puck. His hand dropped to the glowing dagger again.
“Give me the crystal, Drood.”
Eddie put it in his pocket dimension.
“Don’t think I can’t take it from you!” said Puck.
“If you could, you’d have done it by now,” said Eddie.
“What are we going to do with you, Puck?” said John. “So many deaths to lay at your door . . .”
“Don’t you look at me like that,” said Puck. “Don’t you dare! You were all happy enough to kill each other till you found out it wasn’t your own idea. And you don’t dare kill me, despite everything I’ve done! The elves would return from Shadows Fall and the Sundered Lands and go to war with all Humanity to avenge me. For honour’s sake.”
“Even after we tell Oberon and Titania how you went behind their backs to set up your own kingdom?” said Eddie.
Puck laughed in his face. “You never did understand elves. They would be proud of my ambition. And with your family so weakened, and the Nightside only a shadow of its former self . . .”
John looked at Eddie. “He may be a petty-minded little shit, but he has a point. However . . . there is one person who could punish him as he deserves. Someone even the elves wouldn’t go against.”
Eddie grinned. “Of course. Go ahead. Call her.”
John reached out with his gift to find Gaea; and she appeared on Griffin Hill, looking coldly at Puck.
“I’ve been watching, and listening,” said Gaea. “I know everything that’s happened. The elves were my first children, and my first real disappointment. But I think I can still make something useful out of you, Puck. After a millennium or two in my service.”
Puck turned to John and Eddie, real horror in his eyes. “Don’t let her take me! Please! Kill me!”
Gaea snapped her fingers, and Puck vanished; the air rushing in to fill the space where he’d been. Gaea nodded easily to Eddie and John.
“I think I’ve interfered enough. You can do all the clearing up.”
“Wait!” said John. “Before you go, can you please explain why the Nightside is so important?”
“Yes,” said Eddie. “I’d really like to know the answer to that one.”
“If you must,” said Gaea. “The idea behind the Nightside is that Good and Evil aren’t always opposites. Rather, they are two sides of the same coin because you can’t have one without the other. The Nightside is an attempt to see what happens when people embrace them both at the same time. To see if that might produce a whole greater than the sum of its parts. Lilith didn’t know that when she created the Nightside, but that is why the long night has been allowed to survive as long as it has.” She smiled briefly. “Think of it as God’s Little Experiment.”
And then she disappeared too.
“Damn!” said John. “I never thought to ask her why the moon is so big!”
“I’m sure you’ll get another chance,” said Eddie. “She’s bound to be back.”
“You’re just saying that to depress me,” said John.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Eddie. “It’s cold, and the girls are waiting.”
“Never let them hear you call them that,” said John.
“Perish the thought,” said Eddie.
“Come on,” said John. “Lots to do.”
“Isn’t there always,” said Eddie.
EPILOGUE
Afterwards, a great many things happened.
* * *
• • •
The Soul of Albion returned the Nightside boundaries to where they were supposed to be, and the long night became stable again. The war was over, so the Droods took their Hall back to where it belonged, and the Nightsiders set about rebuilding and burying their dead. The gods returned to the Street of the Gods, but no one gave much of a damn.
* * *
• • •
Suzie gave birth to a lovely little girl, which eased John’s mind, just a little. Maggie gave up being Matriarch and went back to heading the gardening staff, which was where she’d always been happiest. And Cathy Barrett became the new Ms Fate.
* * *
• • •
After a certain amount of cautious discussion, it was decided that both sides needed to learn from each other, to make sure nothing like this could ever happen again. So Eddie went to the Nightside to become the new Walker, with Molly at his side, while John and Suzie took their new daughter and went to Drood Hall, to run things there.
* * *
• • •
None of them lived happily ever after, because that doesn’t happen.
But life went on.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I don’t normally do these, but this feels like a special occasion, so pay attention at the back there; I have a few words to say.
* * *
• • •
Basically, this book is me saying good-bye. I’ve finally written the last chapter in a very-long-running story, bringing together a lot of characters and even more loose ends. So it’s good-bye to a world of Droods and Ghost Finders, to men who find things and the women who love shotguns, to the Forest Kingdom and Shadows Fall and the land of Mysterie. The story is over, so let’s ring down the curtain, pass the hat around, and move on.
I’m still going to be writing novels, but there are other worlds waiting for me to explore.
It’s time for me to make a few acknowledgments to all the people who helped me on my way.
* * *
• • •
First, I have to thank my agent, Joshua Bilmes, who has been with me from the beginning. I wouldn’t be where I am today if it weren’t for him. These days he runs his own literary agency, JABberwocky. So thanks to Joshua, and all at JABberwocky, especially the ones who send me money.
* * *
• • •
I have to thank the three most important editors in my life: Ginjer Buchanan in the US, and Richard Evans and Jo Fletcher in the UK. They found and nurtured me and loved what I wrote. What more can you ask, from an editor.
And my current editor, Rebecca Brewer, who has always been very supportive.
* * *
• • •
I’d like to talk about my parents, Stan and Nancy Green, who were always there for me.
My dad started out as an engineer. During World War II, he was a fireman. Afterwards, he ran a small family business, and I worked there on and off from an early age. When I was about eight, I found a stack of old Galaxy Science Fiction magazines from the Fifties; and when he saw how much I enjoyed them, my dad introduced me to his collection of Edgar Rice Burroughs . . . Tarzan and Mars and Pellucidar. And then to Thorne Smith and Leslie Charteris.
He taught me the value of hard work an
d believing in your dreams.
My mum started out as a printer’s devil, a type setter. An unusual occupation for a woman in the Thirties, but no one ever stopped my mum from doing anything she set out to do. During the war, she joined the fire service, which is where she met my dad. Afterwards, she helped him run the family business, in between raising my brother and me.
She taught me the value of stubbornness and never giving up.
* * *
• • •
I have to thank my oldest friend, Steve Lovett, who has spent a great many years listening to some of my wilder ideas. He believed in me long before anyone else did. Even when I wasn’t sure myself.
* * *
• • •
And finally I have to thank you, my readers. I may be moving on to pastures new, but I hope you’ll stick with me . . . Because the view promises to be spectacular.
One story ends; another begins.
The work goes ever on.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Simon R. Green is the New York Times bestselling author of the Secret Histories novels, the novels of the Nightside, the Ghost Finders novels, and the Deathstalker series. He lives in England.
CONNECT ONLINE
simonrgreen.co.uk
twitter.com/TheSimonRGreen
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Simon R. Green, Night Fall
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