Drinking Midnight Wine

  “Curios and artefacts from some of my old cases,” said a deep, commanding voice, and Toby looked round sharply to see Jimmy Thunder standing in the doorway of the parlour. Or, to be more accurate, filling it. The huge red-headed warrior figure was immediately impressive, even though he was wearing a flannel dressing gown and pale pink bunny slippers. Just standing there, entirely at ease, the thunder godling was thoroughly intimidating. His sheer bulk made Toby feel puny by comparison. He just knew he could work out with weights all his life and still never end up with a build like that. He’d never seen so many muscles in one place, on one person.

  Jimmy smiled easily, and strode forward to clasp Toby’s hand in a grip that was nicely calculated to be firm without threatening, though the godling’s huge hand all but swallowed Toby’s. Toby tried for a polite, unimpressed smile, but it didn’t feel particularly successful. Certainly Jimmy wasted no time in moving quickly on to clasp Gayle in a huge hug, lifting her right off the floor and swinging her round, feet clearing the ground. She laughed happily and tugged playfully at his long red beard. He grinned, set her down again, and made to hold her buttocks in his hands before she pushed him firmly away.

  “Big old bear,” she said fondly. “Good to see you again.”

  “Always good to see you,” said Jimmy, his voice so deep now it was practically rumbling in his chest. “You spend far too much time being real, you know. It can’t be good for you. You need to get out more, like me, and savour the best of both worlds. You weren’t always so … retiring.” He looked across at Toby, grinning. “You know the two of us used to be an item?”

  “She hadn’t actually got around to telling me that,” said Toby. “But yes, I’d sort of guessed. So … you’re a godling?”

  “Damn right,” said Jimmy Thunder cheerfully. He sat on a handy wooden bench and pulled Gayle down beside him. She hit him playfully on the shoulder, but he didn’t even feel it. Toby sat down on another bench facing them. Jimmy slipped an arm round Gayle’s waist and Toby tried not to seethe too obviously.

  “Long, long ago, back in the mists of time, when Veritie and Mysterie weren’t quite as separate as they are now, my ancestor was the god Thor,” Jimmy said easily. “Hard to tell exactly how long ago, but still; Thor. Norse god of storms and lightning, Odin’s son, big hammer, the whole bit. And somewhere along the line he paid a visit to Veritie, had his way with a willing Norse lass, as gods were prone to do in those days, and got her with child. Many, many generations later, I came along, my divine inheritance greatly diluted by so much mortal blood. Essentially, I’m powerful, long-lived, but not actually all that special. Especially in a town like this. All I really inherited from my distant progenitor was a hammer that can’t find its way home, more red hair than I know what to do with and the ability to know when it’s going to rain. There was a horse with eight legs, but it ran away. Never liked me anyway. Ugly great thing.” He sighed heavily, suddenly morose. “Not much of a god really, as gods go. No powers, no miracles, can’t even change water into mead. Family history’s a bloody dirge, all gloomy Eddas and prophecies of getting our arse kicked at Ragnarok. Why couldn’t I have been descended from one of the Greek gods? Those guys knew how to have fun.”

  “Don’t you put yourself down like that!” said the mirror sharply. “There are always plenty of people only too willing to do that for you. You have a famous and vitally ethnic heritage, and more muscles than a whelk farm. That’s the trouble with you Norse gods; always prone to mood swings. Now introduce me properly to your guests or I’ll start singing opera again. In German. With all the vibratos.”

  “The loud and obnoxious thing hanging on my wall,” said Jimmy, “smiling in spite of himself, is Scilla. Apparently once a Rhine Maiden (though the second part was often loudly disputed), whose spirit ended up inhabiting a mirror as a result of cheating at cards with a rather bad-tempered dwarf. In her own annoying way, she’s probably more immortal than I am. My dad wished her on me in his will, and I still haven’t forgiven him. She currently works as my secretary, in charge of making appointments, overseeing the paperwork, billing clients and keeping track of ongoing cases.” Jimmy paused for breath. “She also nags me about my weight, the length of my hair and my unmarried state. She seems to think she’s my mother, and that I couldn’t manage my life without her.”

  “Well, you couldn’t,” said the mirror. “Some days I’m lucky if he’s wearing the same colour socks. And if I didn’t constantly remind him about his weight, he’d pork out so fast it would make your head swim. You should see his waistline during the winter months. Some years I wouldn’t be surprised if he started hibernating. And someone’s got to think about the next generation of thunder godlings! I don’t see why you can’t meet a nice Norse goddess and settle down …”

  Jimmy looked apologetically at Gayle and Toby. “Sorry about this, but she’ll go on for ever if I don’t get us out of here.” He snapped his fingers sharply, and the world dropped out from under Toby. The parlour disappeared, swallowed up in a darkness that rushed in from every direction at once, and Toby grabbed frantically for something to hold onto as he plummeted through nothing at all. And then the light returned, the sensation of falling was abruptly gone and Toby was sitting in a cheap plastic deckchair, clutching at his chest with both hands to try to stop his heart palpitating. Jimmy and Gayle were sitting opposite him, also in deckchairs. Jimmy looked rather smug, for the second or two before Gayle slapped him hard about the head.

  “Dammit, Jimmy! Give us some warning before you do that. You know teleporting screws up my inner ear.”

  “Sorry,” said Jimmy, not all that convincingly. “But some days that mirror gets on my tits something fierce. I’d get rid of her, if only she wasn’t so damned efficient. She pretty much runs the business these days, and don’t think she doesn’t know it. I’ve never been very good at organisational skills. Gods aren’t, mostly.”

  Toby took in his new surroundings. The three of them were now sitting in a completely different room. Small, filthy and cluttered, it looked very much like a garage. Lit by old-fashioned hanging oil lanterns, there were work areas, spare parts, tool benches and any amount of tools scattered around (on the walls, the floor, the benches, everywhere), and the centre space was dominated by a huge, partially dismantled motorbike of some vintage. The whole place smelled of oil and petrol and less pleasant odours. Toby gave Jimmy a hard look.

  “Excuse me? How the hell did we get here?”

  The thunder godling shrugged easily. “This may not be Valhalla exactly, but it is my place; so space here does what I tell it to. If I say we’re in a different room, then we are. I often come here, when I need to be alone, to do some important thinking. I find working on mechanical problems very soothing. Whatever the problem is, there’s always a straightforward answer, if only you can find it. Probably God felt the same way when he was creating the universe.”

  Toby had to raise an eyebrow at that. “You believe in God?”

  “Of course,” said Jimmy. “I may be a godling, but I know my place in the scheme of things. Do you like the bike?”

  Toby looked it over. Even partially dismantled it was still a huge beast of a machine, all gleaming black and silver. The exposed engine was a lot bigger than some car engines Toby had seen. He didn’t even want to think about how much the damned thing must weigh; certainly he couldn’t have shifted it on his own. Even standing still, the bike reeked of power and speed. Toby didn’t know much about motorbikes, except that they had a wheel at each end and lived for the chance to kill you in horrible and messily disfiguring accidents, but even he was impressed by this monster of a machine. He looked it over in what he hoped was an intelligent way, and tried to think of something relevant to say.

  “Get a lot of miles to the gallon, do you?”

  Jimmy kindly ignored that and ran one hand lovingly over the shiny black frame. “This is a 1936 Brough Superior, the luxury edition. Goes like the wind … inhabited by the spirit of a Valkyrie.
You should see the speeds she can touch at two hundred feet … I once buzzed Concorde out over the Atlantic, but they were too embarrassed to report it. Unfortunately, it’s getting hard to conjure up the parts these days.” He grinned suddenly at Gayle. “I suppose I should apologise about the mess, but hell, I’m a man who lives alone. It’s expected of me.”

  “I knew there was a good reason why I always insisted on your place rather than mine,” said Gayle.

  Jimmy looked at Toby. “Is this your latest, Gayle? He’s a bit smaller than you usually like them.”

  “Hey!” said Toby, not at all sure how to take that. He considered saying size isn’t everything, but thought he’d better not.

  “He’s a focal point,” said Gayle, not actually answering the question.

  “Oh bloody hell,” said Jimmy, slumping back in his deckchair and looking disgustedly at Toby. “We’ve only just got over the last one. Focal points are more trouble than an earthquake and a volcano put together, and twice as destructive. My life’s complicated enough as it is … Couldn’t we just kill him quietly and hide the body?”

  “Don’t think I haven’t considered it,” said Gayle. “Unfortunately, the Waking Beauty says we need him. He just might be Humanity’s Champion.”

  “I wonder if it’s too late to go into hiding now and not come out till it’s all over?” Jimmy said plaintively. “I may be a godling, but there are limits to what I should have to put up with. I mean, Hob and Angel I could cope with, probably, but focal points are so … arbitrary. I think the Norns invented them just to mess with our heads.”

  “I am getting really tired of this reaction,” said Toby, trying hard for dignity. “I didn’t choose to be a focal point …”

  “Yes you did,” said Gayle. “You chose to follow me through the doorway. So this is all your fault.” She looked back at Jimmy. “You seeing anyone these days? I did hear you had some lovesick mortal trailing after you again …”

  Jimmy shrugged easily. “You know how it is with mortals; they’re so easily impressed. And they get so upset, just because you don’t call them for a few years. I’m currently in between, at the moment. Women have always tended to drift into my life; usually when it’s most inconvenient. Mortals are like candy; sweet, but of the moment.”

  “What happened to the last one?” said Toby.

  “Something ate her. It’s all right, though, I avenged her.”

  “I’m sure that made all the difference,” said Toby.

  “You want some mead?” Jimmy said suddenly, all smiles again. “The new batch is almost ready. I make it myself. Real kick-arse stuff. Cleans out your tubes like you wouldn’t believe.”

  “No,” said Gayle firmly. “Don’t you touch it, Toby. That stuff he makes isn’t alcohol, it’s sudden death in liquid form. Jimmy’s system only handles it because he’s immortal and he can outlive the side effects.”

  Jimmy sniffed, pouted and looked disparagingly at Toby again. “Are you sure he’s important? He doesn’t look like he’s got much in him. Whatever Hob and Angel are up to, I can handle it.”

  “Like you handled the Reality Express situation last night?” Gayle said sweetly.

  “Ah,” said Jimmy. “You heard about that.”

  “Hob and Angel got away, a whole trainload of refugees got barbecued and the railway station was trashed? Of course I heard! I should think the whole town’s heard by now! Now make nice with Toby. I have a feeling we’re all going to have to work together on this case.”

  Jimmy shook his head unhappily. “A focal point … The town’s still recovering from the last one, and that was a century ago. Please let me kill him, Gayle. I’ll be ever so humane about it.”

  “Hey!” said Toby.

  “Toby is under my protection,” Gayle said firmly.

  “All right, all right!” Jimmy sighed heavily. “You and your damn strays …”

  “How come everyone keeps talking about me like I’m not here?” said Toby loudly.

  “Wishful thinking,” said Jimmy. He’d gone back to pouting again.

  “Play nice, boys,” said Gayle. “And try to concentrate on the matter at hand. If Carys is right, and I hate to admit it but she usually is, the whole town’s in danger. Let’s start with you, Jimmy. Tell us exactly what happened with the Reality Express last night.”

  Jimmy brightened up at that, and launched into his tale with some enthusiasm. It was reasonably accurate, once you discounted the rather obvious boasting and exaggerations. Jimmy wasn’t exactly lying or stretching the truth; he just naturally saw himself in larger-than-life terms, part of the territory when you’re a godling. Toby studied him thoughtfully as he talked, emphasising things with wide sweeping gestures. It was hard to dislike Jimmy; he was so open about who and what he was, almost childlike, for all his years. In many ways the thunder god was the kind of action hero Toby had always secretly wanted to be; all muscle and bravado and straightforward decisiveness. If only he had a few brains to go with it … As the story unfolded, Toby began to frown. Even allowing for Jimmy’s self-centred rendition, Toby couldn’t help feeling that there was something missing from the story; that they were all missing something important. When Jimmy finally wound down, somewhat glossing over the unfortunate events at the end, Toby leaned forward in his chair.

  “Why did the Waking Beauty want you to investigate the Reality Express yesterday evening? She must have known it was running before this, and if she’s as good as everyone seems to think she is, she should have known about Hob and Angel’s involvement long ago.”

  “Maybe she just wanted confirmation,” said Gayle.

  “Maybe.” Toby thought some more, frowning hard. “Now that Hob has murdered his passengers, the odds are the Reality Express won’t be running again for some time to come. Did Carys somehow know this would be your last chance to see it in action? Did she know that involving you would inevitably put an end to it?”

  Gayle nodded slowly. “That sounds like Carys. She’d use anyone to further her schemes.”

  “Even you and me?” said Toby.

  “Good point,” said Gayle.

  “All right; how about this?” said Toby. “Follow the logic through. Now that Hob is no longer able to gain power, or whatever else he needs, from Reality Express refugees, where is he going to get it from now? What or who will he turn to? Who’s most at risk?” Toby shook his head. “Sorry Gayle, but I need you to explain the magic situation here more thoroughly if I’m going to make sense of this.”

  “Very well,” said Gayle. “One more time, in words of one syllable or possibly less, especially for the hard of thinking. In Mysterie, everyone is defined by what they are. Their role dictates the shape their lives must follow. People can have great power and abilities, but severe restrictions are placed on how they can use them. Only in the real world, in Veritie, are people free to grow, evolve and even transcend themselves. Veritie is thus the quieter, subtler world, with the greatest prospects for each individual. Refugees flee Mysterie for Veritie on the underground railway because only in the real world can they choose who and what they will be.

  “Take Jimmy here, for example. He’s a thunder god because all his ancestors were. He’s managed to adapt his lifestyle a little, by becoming a God For Hire, but that’s only because there’s so much mortal, real, blood in his past. He still has to follow the role laid out for him at birth, to be a warrior.”

  “To be fair,” said Jimmy. “I am rather good at it. Usually.”

  “The Mice said a lot of people had been coming to Veritie on the Reality Express,” said Gayle, frowning now herself. “Why now? What did they know, or think they knew, that made it so important and so urgent for them to leave Mysterie?”

  “Maybe something bad is coming to Mysterie,” said Toby. “Some new threat …”

  “Maybe,” said Gayle. “Jimmy; you’re the god of stormy weather. Have you noticed the strange weather patterns recently?”

  “Of course. Are you saying you don’t know wh
at’s behind them?”

  “I’ve been … out of touch for a while,” Gayle said defensively. “I’ve buried myself in reality for so long, even my instincts have gone to sleep. But I’m waking up fast.”

  “You need to talk with Luna,” Jimmy said firmly. “She can always be relied on to have an overview of the situation. Of course, there’s no guarantee it’ll be a useful overview …”

  “Who’s Luna?” said Toby.

  “My sister,” said Gayle, grimacing. “We don’t get on. Not least because she’s as crazy as a loon. Sweet, but crazy. But Jimmy’s right. Luna sees things other people don’t. Often strange and disturbing things. The trick is figuring out which if any of them mean anything.”

  She got to her feet suddenly, and Toby scrambled to his as fast as he could. It’s not easy getting up out of a deckchair when you’re caught by surprise. Jimmy took his time getting up, just to remind them that this was his place, after all, and then fixed Gayle with a stern gaze.

  “You’re getting very involved with this, Gayle. Does this mean you’re coming back? All the way back?”

  “I haven’t decided,” said Gayle. “You of all people should understand how desperately I need to stay real; to be free of the demands that Mysterie would seek to put on me.”

  “Sure.” Jimmy hesitated for a moment. “Luna sees things that other people miss. Do you think you could ask her if she knows of any Norse goddesses? Anywhere?”

  “I’ll ask her,” Gayle said kindly. “But as far as I know, you’re the last of your kind.”

  “Ah. I was afraid of that. Every godly line comes to an end, eventually. Only the mortals go on for ever.” He looked at Toby. “Hey; you want to know what drives her absolutely wild in bed?”