There was no telling where that insane and dangerous struggle might have gone if Suzie hadn’t put a stop to it by simply hitting Tommy round the back of the head with the butt of her shotgun. He cried out and fell to his knees, his gift snapping off as the pain in his head kept him from concentrating. He still tried to come up off his knees fighting, and Suzie calmly and dispassionately beat the shit out of him. He finally collapsed into unconsciousness, and I used my gift to find Old Father Time’s touch on him and remove it. Tommy disappeared immediately, swept back to our Present.
(And that was when I finally remembered when I’d seen Tommy Oblivion before. He’d appeared out of nowhere in Strangefellows, during the Nightingale case, some months previously. He’d been badly beaten, and yelled threats at me before he was thrown out. Now I knew why. He’d obviously arrived back in the Nightside before he left. Still, it did beg the question of why, if Tommy knew what was going to happen on this trip, he didn’t search out his younger self, and inform him… Unless something happened to the older Tommy to prevent it… That’s why I hate Time travel. Just thinking about it makes your head hurt.)
I sat down in a chair while Suzie checked my head wound, then cleaned the blood off my face. I sat looking at Merlin’s heart on the table before me, planning what I was going to do next. Even after everything that had happened, I was still determined to press on. I had to succeed in my mission to justify all the suffering and damage I’d caused.
“If nothing else,” said Suzie, “we have discovered the answer to one of the great mysteries of the Nightside—who stole Merlin’s heart? We did. Who would have thought it… Can it really take us further back into the Past?”
She was speaking calmly and professionally, so I did the same. “I don’t see why not. The power’s definitely there; I have to tap into it and guide it.”
“And you’re not worried about your Enemies locating you here?”
“I think they would have by now if they were going to,” I said.
I took the heart in my hand and made myself look at Suzie’s ruined face without flinching. I’d done that to her. I had to stop Lilith, or all Suzie’s pain had been for nothing. I looked slowly round the bar, taking in all the damage I’d done, without meaning to. I had to wonder if perhaps it was my own implacable stubbornness that was forging the very series of causal links that would bring about the dead future.
Who caused this? I asked the future Razor Eddie, as he lay dying in my arms. You did, he said. How do I stop it? I asked him. Kill yourself, he said.
I’d promised him I would die rather than let that future happen. I’d promised Suzie back during the angel war that I would never let her be hurt again. I’d failed her. She didn’t blame me, but I did. She would forgive me, but I never would. Perhaps … the only way to stop the awful future was to kill myself, now, before it was too late …
No. I could still stop Lilith. I was the only one who could stop her.
So I nodded to Suzie to pick up Nimue’s body, while I raised my gift and tapped the power of Merlin’s heart, and we went hurtling back through Time again.
Chapter Nine
When in Rome
We arrived. I looked around. I looked at Suzie. “Hold me back, Suzie, or I am going to kill absolutely everything that moves.”
“Hold yourself back,” Suzie said calmly. “You know very well I don’t do the restraint thing. It’s bad for my reputation.”
“I don’t believe this!” I said, actually stamping my foot in frustration. “We’re still only part of the way back!”
“At least it doesn’t smell so bad this time,” said Suzie, judiciously. “I find a little horse shit in the street goes a hell of a long way.”
“I could spit soot,” I said.
We’d reappeared in the middle of a large open square, under the star-speckled sky and huge full moon of the Nightside. The buildings enclosing the square were low and squat, stone and marble, with the unmistakable classic touches of Roman architecture. Men in wraparound togas looked at us curiously, then went on their way, as though strange people appearing suddenly out of nowhere happened all the time. Maybe it did, in this Nightside.
“First or second century,” said Suzie, showing off her knowledge again. “The Romans built Londinium over the River Thames, and were the first human society to colonize the already existing Nightside. Outside, Rome rules Britain, after Julius Caesar led a successful invasion in 55 B.C. It was actually his third attempt; the extremely savage Britons threw his armies back into the sea twice. And the defensive tactics used by the Druidic priests shocked even the hardened Roman Legionnaires. So Rome now rules, with an iron fist. They brought law, roads, slavery, and crucifixion. You’re not into history, are you, Taylor? Taylor?”
My teeth were clenched so tight my jaws ached. I’d tried to play it light, but my heart wasn’t in it. I couldn’t believe we’d fallen short again. We were still at least a hundred years short of the Nightside’s creation, maybe more, and with no means of going any further. Everything I’d done, all the hard and ruthless things I’d done, all the hurt and death I’d caused … had all been for nothing. I looked down at Merlin’s heart, in my hand. It no longer beat or pulsed. It was just a dark red lump of muscle, all its magic used up. Which meant we were stranded. I threw the heart onto the ground, and stamped on it, but it was already too hard and leathery to crush properly. I sighed. I didn’t have the energy left to throw a proper tantrum. Too tired to be angry, too bitter to be mad. Suzie sensed the pain in me and comforted me in the only way she could, by standing close beside me and reassuring me with her cold, calm presence. I could remember a time when it used to be the other way round. We’d both come a long way from who we used to be, Suzie and I.
“Hey, you!” said a loud, harsh, and not at all friendly voice. “Stand right where you are, and don’t even think about going for a weapon!”
“Oh good,” I said. “A distraction.”
“I pity the fools,” said Suzie.
We looked around. The people in the square were scattering, in a dignified and civilised way, as a group of Roman Legionnaires headed straight for us. They wore the armoured outfits familiar from film and television, though these outfits looked rough and dirty and hard-used, much like the men who wore them. They were short and stocky, with brutal faces and eyes that had seen everything before. Typical city cops. They stamped towards us, short-swords in their hands, and quickly fanned out to form a semicircle facing and containing us. Suzie already had her shotgun out, held lazily in her hands. She glanced at me, and I shook my head slightly. Best not to start any trouble we didn’t have to, until we had a better grasp on local conditions. Suzie had been carrying Nimue’s body draped over one shoulder, but at the Legionnaires’ approach she dumped it on the ground, to be free for any necessary action. The Legionnaires looked at the body, then at us.
“Tall, aren’t they?” said a quiet voice from among them.
“When I want your opinion, Marcus, I’ll beat it out of you,” growled the leader. He gave us his best intimidating stare, not at all bothered that he had to incline his head right back to do it. “I’m Tavius, leader of the Watch. Are you a Citizen?”
“Almost certainly not,” I said. “We’re only passing through. Hopefully. I’m John Taylor, and this is Suzie Shooter. Don’t upset her.”
“You speak Latin like a Citizen,” said Tavius. “I suppose it’s possible you have legitimate business here. Who’s the stiff?”
“No-one you’d know,” I said.
“Identity papers!”
I checked my coat pockets, in case Old Father Time might have supplied some, but apparently there were limits to his help. I shrugged, and smiled easily at the head of the Watch.
“Sorry. No papers. Would a bribe do?”
“Well…”
“Shut up, Marcus!” said Tavius. He gave me his full attention, turning his glare up another notch. “We have been given the task of maintaining order in this unnatural shit-hole
, and we only accept tributes from legitimate Citizens. Now, I see a dead body, and I see blood all over the pair of you. I’m sure you’re about to tell me there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for all this…”
“Actually, no,” I said. “I’ve got an unnatural explanation, but frankly, life’s too short. Why don’t you take our word for it that this lady and I are very powerful, very dangerous, and extremely pissed off by recent events; so unless you want this lady and me to turn the whole lot of you into dog food…”
“Oh hell,” said Tavius. “You’re magical?”
“Told you we should have paid the extra insurance, for full godly cover.”
“I won’t tell you again, Marcus! Now bring me the bloody list.”
The smallest of the Legionnaires hurried forward, handed his leader a rolled scroll, gave me a quick shifty smile, and dropped a wink to Suzie. Then he retreated swiftly back into the ranks. Tavius opened the scroll and studied it carefully.
“So, are you gods, walking in disguise?”
“Definitely not,” I said. “And don’t believe anyone who tells you otherwise. They’re just guessing.”
Tavius considered that for a moment, and then moved on to the next question on his checklist. “Are you a Power, a Force, or a Being?”
“Not as such,” I said.
“Are you a magician, sorcerer, raiser of spirits, or soothsayer?”
“There’s a lot of debate about that,” I said, “but I prefer not to comment. However, it would be fair to say that this lady and I are dangerous in a whole bunch of unnatural and unpleasant ways.”
“I can set light to my farts,” Suzie volunteered.
“Don’t go there,” I said quickly to Tavius.
He blinked a few times, then looked back at his checklist. “We’ve already established you’re not Citizens, so … which gods protect you?”
“Absolutely none, as far as I can tell,” said Suzie.
“And I think we can safely assume I’m not going to find your barbarian names on the approved list,” said Tavius, rolling up his scroll with a certain satisfaction. “Which means you’re fair game. All right, boys, arrest them. We’ll sort out some charges later.”
“They said they were dangerous. Powerful and dangerous.”
“Gods, you’re a wimp, Marcus. How you ever got into the Legion is a mystery to me.”
“They’re tall enough to be dangerous.”
“Look, if they had any magic worth the mentioning, they would have used it by now, wouldn’t they? Now arrest them, or there’ll be no honey with your dinner tonight.”
“What the hell,” I said. “I’ve been having a really rotten time, and I could use someone to take out my feelings on.”
And I punched Tavius right between his beady little eyes. His head snapped back, and he staggered backwards two or three paces, but he didn’t go down. Either they built them really tough in the Legion, or I was losing my touch. Tavius raised his short-sword and started towards me. I caught his gaze with mine, and he stopped short as though he’d run into a brick wall. I kept the stare going, and his face went blank, the short-sword slipping from his hand as the fingers slowly opened. I hit him again, and this time he went down and stayed down. Which was just as well. It felt like I’d broken every bone in my hand.
The rest of the Legionnaires were already advancing on us, hoping to overwhelm us with numbers. Suzie shot four of them in swift succession, working the pump on her shotgun with practised speed. The loud noise, the flying blood, and the terrible wounds scattered the Legionnaires like startled birds, and I thought they might run, but their training quickly reasserted itself. You don’t choose the faint-hearted to act as the Watch in the Nightside. They spread out to make harder targets, then advanced on Suzie and me, sandalled feet stamping in perfect unison. I fell back on my standard response, which was to use the taking-bullets-out-of-guns trick. I wasn’t actually sure what effect it would have, and so was pleasantly surprised when all the Legionnaires’ weapons, armour, and clothing disappeared, leaving them utterly unarmed, and stark bollock naked. They looked down at themselves, then at us, and they turned as one and ran. There were limits to what even trained soldiers were prepared to face. Suzie started to raise her shotgun, but I shook my head, and she lowered it again. She looked at the departing bare arses and shook her head.
“Getting mean, Taylor.”
“Everything I know, I learned from you,” I said generously.
She considered me thoughtfully for a moment. “I’m never sure what you can or can’t do.”
I grinned. “That’s the point.”
We watched the departing Legionnaires leave the square at speed, probably on the way to tell on us to their superiors. Some of the people had wandered back into the square. They looked at Suzie, then at me, very disapprovingly. I glared right back at them, and they all remembered they had urgent appointments somewhere else.
“Feeling better?” said Suzie.
“You have no idea,” I said.
I took a good look at our surroundings. The stone buildings were basic and blocky, prettied up with columns, porticoes, and bas-reliefs. Most of the latter featured gods, monsters, and people doing naughty things with each other. The centre of the square was taken up with a whole bunch of oversized statues, featuring either the local gods and goddesses or idealised men and women, most of them naked, all of them very brightly painted. I expressed some surprise at this, and Suzie immediately went into lecture mode again. I could remember when she hardly said a dozen words at a time. A little education is a terrible thing.
“All classical statues were painted, and repainted regularly. The Romans adopted the practice from the ancient Greeks, along with everything else that wasn’t nailed down. Even their gods, though they at least had the grace to rename them. We’re used to seeing the statues in museums, old and cracked and bare stone and marble, because that’s all that survived.” She stopped abruptly. “Taylor, you’re looking at me strangely again.”
“I’m impressed,” I said. “Honest.”
“Look, I got the History Channel for free, okay? I subscribed to the Guns & Ammo Channel, and History was part of the package.”
“Cable television has a lot to answer for.”
I went back to looking at the buildings, and I slowly realised they were all temples of one kind or another. Most were dedicated to the local Roman gods, of which there were quite a few, including Julius Caesar and Augustus Caesar, complete with idealised busts showing off their noble features.
“After Julius, all the Roman Emperors were declared gods when they died,” said Suzie. “And sometimes even during their lifetimes. Good way to keep the colonized nations in line, by telling them their Emperor was a god.”
“Actually, I knew that,” I said. “I watched I, Claudius. And the Penthouse Caligula. But only because Helen Mirren was in it.”
Other temples were dedicated to Dagon, the Serpent, the Serpent’s Son, Cthulhu, several of the old Greek gods, half a dozen names I vaguely remembered from the Street of the Gods, and a whole bunch I’d never even heard of. And, one temple dedicated to Lilith. I considered that for a while, but it seemed no more or less important than any of the others.
“There aren’t any Christian temples,” I said suddenly.
“Too early yet,” said Suzie. “Though there are probably some underground, unofficial places.”
I turned my attention to the people, and others, passing through the square. Less than half were in any way human. There were elves, moving silently together with mathematical precision, holding strange groupings and patterns as intricate as a snowflake, and as alien. Lizardly humanoids slid quickly through the darker parts of the square, unnaturally graceful, their scaled skin gleaming bottle-green under the occasional lamplight. Large squat creatures, composed entirely of heaving, multi-coloured gasses, progressed slowly and jerkily, their shapes changing and convulsing from moment to moment. Liquid forms as tall as houses splashed across the
square, leaving sticky trails behind them. Earthy shapes crumbled as they stamped along, and living flames flashed and flickered, come and gone too quickly for the human eye to follow. In these early days of the Nightside, humanity was the minority, and forms and forces long since lost and banished to the Street of the Gods walked openly.
Two burly giants, great heaving monstrosities draped in flapping furs, lurched forward from opposite sides of the square. So tall they towered over the biggest of the temples, the ground shook under the impact of their every footstep. They cried out to each other in voices like the thunder, or the crash of rock on rock, and there was nothing human in the sound. They slammed together in the middle of the square, kicking aside the statues of gods and heroes, and had at each other with massive sledge-hammers.
There were humans in the square; but they mostly kept to the sides, out of the way, and gave all the others plenty of room. There were rough Celtic types, squat vicious men in wolf furs, with blue woad on their faces and clay packed in their hair. They carried swords and axes, and growled at anyone who came too close. There were Romans and Greeks and Persians, all of them moving in armed groups, for safety’s sake. Some had the look of sorcerers, and some were quite clearly mad. And finally, a heavy stone golem came striding purposefully through the crowds, the word Emeth glowing fiercely on its forehead, above the rudimentary carved features.
This early Nightside was a strange, whimsical, dangerous place. And I felt right at home.
“So,” said Suzie, her voice remarkably casual under the circumstances, “did Lilith want us here, or did Merlin’s heart simply run out of power too soon?”