And then Fisher darted in from behind, and cut at both the Dark Man’s legs with her knife, hamstringing him. He fell forward onto his hands and knees as his legs gave out, the muscles half severed. He didn’t make a sound, even when Fisher took hold of her sword and jerked it out of his ribs. Instead, he slowly got his feet under him, one at a time, and stood up, still clinging to his staff. Fisher backed away. Hawk gaped at him blankly. It just wasn’t possible with wounds like that ... the leg muscles had to be tearing themselves apart. The pain must, be hideous....
The Dark Man moved toward Fisher, one step at a time. Blood coursed down his legs. He was still grinning. Hawk looked about for inspiration. His gaze fell upon a heavy rope tied to a wall bracket. He followed the rope upward, and realised it was supporting one of the huge chandeliers. It took him only a moment to see that the Dark Man was standing almost directly underneath the chandelier. Just a few more steps ...
“Isobel!” he called urgently. “Hold your ground! Let him come to you!”
Fisher shot him a quick glance and then took up a defensive stance where she was, favouring her bruised arm as best she could. There had better be a bloody good reason for this, Hawk, because I don’t think I can stop him on my own. He’s not human.
The Dark Man shuffled slowly forward, leaving a trail of blood behind him. The Quality were hushed and silent, watching with widened eyes. It was one thing to join the Hellfire Club for a few easy thrills, but quite another to come face to face with blood and death and suffering at such close quarters. The Dark Man shuffled forward, his grin widening. Fisher braced herself, and Hawk cut the rope with his axe.
The Dark Man just had time to see a shadow gathering around him and look up, and then half a ton of polished brass and cut glass hammered him to the floor. The sound of the crash echoed on and on. He lay still, and for a long moment no one said anything. And then the Dark Man slowly got his hands underneath him and tried to lever himself up. The chandelier lifted an inch or two, and then settled itself more firmly. Blood burst from the Dark Man’s mouth, and he fell forward and lay still again. Hawk stepped in, raised his axe, and struck down with all his strength. There were a few shocked cries from the Quality as blood spurted and the Dark Man’s head rolled free, but Hawk paid them no heed. He wasn’t taking any chances.
Buchan made his way through the crowd to join Hawk and Fisher. “That was some fight. You might have let it last long enough for me to join in. Do either of you know who he was? What he was doing here?”
“Tracking us, I think,” said Hawk. “It’s to do with a murder case we worked on before we joined the God Squad.”
“I see,” said Buchan. “Do you want to explain that to these people, or shall I?”
“I think it might be better if none of us did,” said Fisher. “Hawk, let’s get the hell out of here. The regular Guard will be here soon; let them handle it.”
Hawk looked around him. “All these people hurt, because of us ...”
“We don’t know that,” said Fisher. “Now let’s go.”
Hawk nodded, and let Buchan lead him and Fisher out of the ballroom. Behind them, the Quality had closed in around the Dark Man’s body and were kicking it viciously. Hawk looked back once, and then looked away. Buchan smiled grimly.
“If nothing else, Hawk, you’ve got to admit the Quality know how to throw a party. You never know what’s going to happen next.”
5
SECRETS COME TO LIGHT
Rowan sat up stiffiy in bed and groaned loudly. She hurt all over, and her mouth tasted foul. She felt more tired now than when she’d gone to bed. She reached painfully over to the bedside table and grabbed the cupful of potion she’d prepared earlier. She took a quick sip, then leaned back against the headboard and looked unhappily at the sickly green stuff in the cup. Putting mint in to flavour it had definitely been a mistake. It must have clashed with something. On the other hand, it couldn’t taste much worse than her mouth did anyway. She lifted the cup determinedly while her nerve held out, and gulped the horrid stuff down. It tasted even worse than she felt, and she indulged herself by pulling awful faces as she, put the cup down on the table. She paused in mid-grimace as she noticed the steaming cup of tea on the silver tray, also resting on the bedside table. Her mouth flattened into a thin line. Tomb had been in her room again. She was going to have to do something about Tomb.
Rowan began to feel a little better as the potion began its work, and she pushed back the bedclothes and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She picked up the cup of tea, looked at it for a moment, and then sipped at it cautiously. It was strong and sweet, and a pleasant warmth moved through her. Say what you would about Tomb, and she could think of a lot, most of it based around the word irritating, the fact remained that he made a good cup of tea. Still, she was definitely going to have to do something about him. She’d made it as clear as she could that she had no feelings of any kind for him and would be just as happy if he’d find somebody else to pester, but he seemed determined not to get the point. Maybe she should try something more direct, like hitting him. She didn’t really want to be unpleasant about it, but it might be kinder in the long run. It certainly wasn’t fair to let him go on hanging around like this.
She smiled sourly as she sipped her tea. Not that she had time for any more complications in her life, but if someone had to fall for her, why couldn’t it have been Buchan? All right, he was a few years older than she, but he still had one hell of a body. He was more experienced than Tomb, more sophisticated; he would have understood the situation. They could have had a marvellous, uncomplicated affair that was fun while it lasted but nothing to fret over when it was finished. But no. The dashing, debonair, handsome Charles Buchan couldn’t be bothered to look at a dumpy little thing like her. He had to save himself for those stinking bitches at the Sisters of Joy. She sighed wistfully. Such a waste of a good man ... but then, that was the way the world went. Nothing was what it seemed, nobody could be trusted, and there was no point in believing in anything unless you could hold it in your hand and check it for flaws. A harsh philosophy, but better than nothing.
She looked at the travelling clock on the mantelpiece. Buchan should be back from the Hellfire Club soon, along with the two Guards. She scowled, thinking about Hawk and Fisher. They were going to be trouble; she’d known that from the moment she first met them. They didn’t understand what was happening on the Street of Gods, but that wouldn’t stop them from charging blindly in, trying to put things right by brute force. They were fools, but they were dangerous fools. She yawned suddenly, and took a long, slow stretch. She looked wistfully at her warm, comfortable bed. Just another half-hour’s rest would feel so good....
She heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and tensed. Her head was still too muzzy for her to See who it was. The footsteps came unhurriedly along the landing and stopped outside her door. There was a long pause, followed by a hesitant knock. Rowan relaxed, and let out her breath in a quiet sigh. She knew that knock.
“Come in, Tomb.”
The sorcerer opened the door and came in, shot a quick glance at Rowan to see how she was, and then smiled winningly at her. “Just thought I’d look in and check you were up. The others will be back soon.”
“Yes, I know. I’m feeling much better, thank you.”
“That’s good. I’m glad.”
“Tomb?”
“Yes, Rowan?”
“Do you think you could shut the door? It’s rather drafty in here.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course.”
He pushed the door shut, turned back, and tried his winning smile again. Rowan realised she was still holding the teacup and put it down on the tray.
“Thank you for leaving me tea again. That was very sweet of you.”
“You’re welcome.” The sorcerer grinned and nodded his head, pleased.
Just like a puppy that’s done a trick correct, and wants to be patted and told he’s a good dog, thought Rowan tiredly. How the hell can a
first-class sorcerer like Tomb be such an idiot when it comes to women? I really don’t need this. Not now.
Tomb’s smile slowly disappeared, and he shuffled his feet uncertainly. “You know, Rowan, I really am getting rather concerned about you.”
“You are? Why?”
“Well, this isn’t the first time you’ve been ill like this, is it?”
“There’s no need for you to worry. I’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing.”
Tomb visibly braced himself to disagree with her. “I know you have a lot of faith in your potions, Rowan, but I really would be a lot happier if you’d let me call in a doctor, just to look you over and make sure it’s nothing serious.”
Rowan glared at him. “I do not need a doctor. How many times do I have to tell you, Tomb? My health and how I look after myself are none of your business.”
“But I do worry about you.”
“Don’t. There’s no reason why you should be so concerned. Just because I’m part of the God Squad doesn’t give you the right to hover around me like a broody hen. You’re an acquaintance of mine, Tomb; nothing more. Is that clear?”
Tomb nodded slowly. “Yes, Rowan. Very clear.”
“Now, don’t go all sulky on me. How long have I got before the Guards get back with Buchan?”
Tomb’s face went blank for a moment as he used the Sight. “They’re just approaching the front door. I’d better go down and greet them. If you’re sure you’re all right now ...”
“I’m fine.”
“Then I’ll see you in a while.”
He turned and left the room quickly, before she could say anything else. Rowan heaved a quiet but vehement sigh of relief. She knew she shouldn’t be so harsh with him, but that damned puppy dog routine of his was getting on her nerves. Always doing her little favours, so she’d have to say something nice to him ... She got up off the bed, stripped off her nightgown, and reached for her clothes. She was looking forward to hearing Hawk and Fisher tell about what had happened at the Hellfire Club.
Everyone was back in their favourite chairs in the drawing room. Tomb handed round long, narrow glasses of his syrupy sherry, and everyone except Hawk accepted the wine with a smile. Hawk sat back in his chair and tried not to feel like a barbarian. There was a quiet moment as everyone else sipped at their drinks.
“Let’s start with the Hellfire Club,” said Rowan finally. “What did you think of them, Captain Hawk?”
“A bunch of amateurs, playing with magic and jumping at shadows,” said Hawk bluntly. “No danger to anyone, except maybe themselves.”
“But did you turn up any connection to the God Killings?” asked Tomb, sitting forward on the edge of his chair, as though anxious not to miss a syllable.
“Not really,” said Fisher. “But we did come across something interesting. Before we were seconded to you, Hawk and I were investigating the murder of a sorcerer named Bode.” She didn’t miss the quickly stifled reactions from Buchan and Rowan at Bode’s name, but carried on as though she hadn’t noticed. “We didn’t have time to find out who killed him, but we did discover that Bode had been hired by some unknown person to carry out a secret mission on the Street of Gods.”
“Did he succeed in this mission?” said Tomb.
“We don’t know,” said Fisher. “We didn’t find any evidence directly linking him to the God Killings, but we did discover that Bode had been experimenting with homunculi; that is, magically produced physical duplicates.”
“Yes, yes,” said Rowan impatiently. “We all know what a homunculus is.”
Fisher gave Rowan a hard look that didn’t faze the mystic a bit, and then continued. “Somehow, Bode invested one of these duplicates with all his rage and hate, and set it to guard his house against intruders. He called it the Dark Man. It was huge, muscular, and very nasty. It murdered at least four people that we know of. Hawk and I killed it.”
“This is all very interesting,” said Rowan, “but what has it got to do with the Hellfire Club? Or the God Killings?”
Fisher looked at Hawk to see if he’d like to continue with the story, but he was busy looking for some convenient receptacle into which he could surreptitiously empty his sherry glass. Fisher sighed quietly, and continued. “On our way back from studying the murder sites of the three dead Beings, we were attacked by a second Dark Man. We killed him. A third Dark Man tried to kill us at the Hellfire Club. We killed that one too.”
For a long moment no one said anything. Tomb was frowning deeply. “Did you notice any differences between the three homunculi?”
“Yeah,” said Fisher. “They’re getting harder to kill.”
“More than that,” said Hawk, putting down his empty sherry glass. “They were all unnaturally strong, but the muscular development was different each time. There was no way it could have been the same body ... and yet, each time we met, the Dark Man was much harder to deal with. It’s as though he learns from his previous mistakes. I think there’s one single mind controlling all the homunculi, jumping from body to body. It’s also quite possible that there are more Dark Men out there somewhere, waiting for another chance at us.”
The God Squad looked at each other. “Can you tell us anything about this sorcerer Bode?” said Rowan.
“Well,” said Hawk, “apart from his having a mysterious mission on the Street of Gods at the same time as the Gods started dying, apparently he also gave Lord Arthur Sinclair the original inspiration for the Hellfire Club. Bode does seem to get around, doesn’t he? Did any of you know him?”
Buchan nodded slowly. “I met him a few times, on the Street of Gods. Seemed a pleasant enough sort, though I never did find out what he was doing on the Street. I haven’t seen him for some time.”
“Was this before or after the God Killings began?” said Fisher.
“Before, I think,” said Buchan.
“Did you ever meet his girlfriend?” said Hawk.
Buchan shook his head. “Didn’t know he had one. Is she important?”
“Beats me,” said Hawk. “Anyone else here know Bode?”
“I met him once or twice,” said Rowan. “He was asking questions on the Street, so I checked him out, just to see what he was up to. We get all sorts down here, and it pays to be careful. He was a bit vague about what he was doing on the Street, but that’s not unusual. He seemed harmless enough, so I let him be.”
“What kind of questions was he asking?” said Fisher.
Rowan shrugged. “Questions about the Gods. Their powers, their backgrounds, things like that. The usual tourist stuff. And I didn’t see any girlfriend, either.”
Hawk sat quietly a moment, letting his thoughts settle. Bode was turning out to be an important link in the case, but they didn’t really know anything about him. Perhaps he should contact the Guards in charge of the Bode killing, and have them send over all the papers found in Bode’s house. Maybe there was something in them that would shed more light on the sorcerer....
“Assuming all the homunculi have a single mind,” said Tomb slowly, “the important question must be who is controlling them.”
“Well, Bode, I would assume,” said Rowan. “After all, the Dark Men are all versions of his own body. Perhaps he knew he was going to die, so he committed suicide and transferred his soul into one of the homunculi. That way he’d be free to continue with his mission. Whatever it is.”
“Suicide?” said Fisher. “The cause of death was a single stab wound through the heart! If it was suicide, what happened to the knife?”
“That’s a good point,” said Buchan. “But if it isn’t Bode, who is it?”
“Presumably the anonymous person who gave him his mission,” said Hawk. “Whoever it is didn’t want to be seen on the Street of Gods in person. Which suggests that somebody would have known him and recognised him.”
“Or her,” said Fisher. “Remember the girlfriend?. That could have been our unknown person, emerging briefly from the shadows to give Bode new orders.”
“This is getting complicated,” said Buchan. “If we assume the Dark Men aren’t really Bode, why are they still after Hawk and Fisher?”
“Because we’re dangerous,” said Hawk. “We’re getting closer to the truth, and the Dark Man knows it.”
“Wait a minute,” said Tomb. “We’re overlooking something important. Did I understand you to say that the sorcerer Bode was killed in his own house? Why didn’t his magic protect him?”
“Good question,” said Hawk. “We don’t know. When we got there, there was no trace of magic anywhere in the house; no wards, no booby traps, nothing.”
“That’s insane,” said Tomb flatly. “Even after his death, the protective wards should still have been there. They usually have to be dismantled by another sorcerer. Dammit, every sorcerer has wards of some kind; you can’t work without them.”
“All right,” said Hawk. “So it’s crazy. Doesn’t surprise me. The whole damn case is crazy.”
“But it is definitely looking more and more like one case,” said Fisher.
“It seems to me,” said Buchan, “that we’re not going to get anywhere until we can find out what Bode was doing here on the Street. That’s got to be the key to everything.”
“So it would seem,” said Tomb. “In which case, it’s fortunate I asked an acquaintance of mine to join us here this evening. I thought Hawk and Fisher ought to meet him. He’s very knowledgeable about the Street of Gods. It’s said that nothing happens on the Street that he doesn’t know about, often before it happens.”
“Oh, no,” said Buchan. “You haven’t. You haven’t called him in, have you? Not Lacey?”
“Dirty little sneak,” muttered Rowan.
“He serves a purpose,” said Tomb firmly. He turned to Hawk and Fisher and smiled, almost apologetically. “In order to do our job here on the Street, we have to be in constant touch with everything that’s going on. Given the nature of the Street of Gods, that can be rather difficult. Rowan and I both have the Sight, but there’s a limit to how much ground we can cover. So we are forced to depend on various reliable sources for our information.”