The Bride Wore Black Leather

  Cathy gave me a sideways look. “Should there be? Were you expecting naked people; or are you at a funny age, boss?”

  “I mean the Tantric Troops,” I said. “The Authorities’ new attack dogs. They were all over the place here before.”

  “Oh, them,” Dennis said wisely. “The Fuck Buddies. Oh yes, my dears, we’ve all heard about them. Talk about making a virtue out of a necessity . . . Last I heard, the remaining Authorities had scattered them across the Nightside, looking for you, Mr. Taylor. After all; it’s not like there’s much here for them to guard . . .”

  I nodded and went back to looking into the hole. “I was here before, with Julien. Talking about the Bar’s sudden disappearance. And I can’t help feeling I’m missing something . . .”

  I took the book out of my inside pocket, and leafed quickly through it. Cathy frowned slowly.

  “Does that book, by any chance, come from where I think it does?” she said. “From, in fact, the much-respected and even-more-feared HPL?”

  “I borrowed it, for a while,” I said. “Unofficially. Without telling anybody. Though they’ve probably noticed by now.”

  Cathy was already shaking her head. “You’re a lot braver than I am, boss. They’ll send the Library Policemen after you. The big men, with hammers.”

  “I have more pressing things to worry about,” I said, still flipping quickly through the pages. It was all very familiar. I’d read it all before. I knew everything that was in the book; so what was I missing? And then I stopped, as a very familiar phrase jumped out at me. The Bar burned down in 1970, possibly in self-immolation as a protest against the breaking up of the Beatles, then came back as a ghost of itself. The Hawk’s Wind chose to come back! That was the answer, right there! The Bar made a conscious decision to return, which meant the building was sentient. Not just a ghost image of a missing place but a conscious entity in its own right! That’s why the Bar was able to be so solid and hold aspects of the sixties within itself. And as a real, sentient, ghost personality . . . I should be able to ask it questions and get some answers.

  I slammed the book shut, put it away, and quickly explained my thinking to Cathy and Dennis. They both nodded quickly—Cathy excitedly, Dennis reluctantly. I looked out over the empty hole.

  “Den-Den; can you . . . ?”

  “I’ve been trying ever since we got here, Mr. Taylor; and I can’t feel a thing. Wherever the Bar’s gone, it’s way out my reach.”

  So I had no choice but to raise my gift again. It didn’t come easily. It was like lifting a dead weight, then forcing it to do tricks. But I made it work, through sheer will-power, and reached out with my gift to find the Hawk’s Wind Bar & Grille and call it back.

  It really was only a ghost, this time. A grey, semi-transparent shape, its colours a faded memory, with transparent walls, through which could be seen dark human figures, standing or sitting at tables, very still. All the people trapped inside when the Bar was forced out of Time and Space. It was a very tenuous, very flimsy manifestation; but it was quite definitely there, right in front of me. I could sense its presence, feel its living, conscious thoughts . . . but I couldn’t understand them. The Bar might be a sentient thing, but it wasn’t in any way human. How the hell was I going to get any answers out of it?”

  I turned to Dennis, but he was already shaking his head. “Wery sorry, Mr. Taylor, but I only work with deceased peoples.”

  “Try!” I said, very coldly. “Because every damned soul in the Nightside is depending on us, right now, and if we screw this up . . .”

  And then I stopped, as one of the dark figures inside the ghostly Bar rose abruptly from its table, then walked slowly through the Bar to the front door. None of the other figures moved, or even acknowledged it. The front door opened of its own accord, and the dark figure stood there, in the doorway. It looked at me. A cold hand took hold of my heart, and squeezed it tight. I knew that face. I hadn’t known Julien Advent back in the sixties, but he hadn’t changed at all. I wasn’t even born then, but he looked exactly the same. He spoke to me; but it was the voice and words of the Hawk’s Wind, speaking through the sixties incarnation of the Great Victorian Adventurer.

  I could tell.

  “The Sun King didn’t remove me from this reality,” said the Bar, through Julien’s mouth. “The Entities from Beyond did it.”

  “The Aquarians?” I said. My mouth was very dry.

  “That’s not their name. They removed me from the world because I’m the only part of the Nightside that the Sun King cares about. He went along with it because the Entities said it was important to remove the people held within me; but they lied.”

  “How do you know what the Entities want?” I said carefully.

  “Because you can’t hide the truth from the dead,” said the Bar. “Many things about the world become so much clearer, once you’re dead. Especially if you’ve chosen not to depart, just yet.”

  “How did you become . . . conscious?” I said.

  The sixties Julien actually smiled, briefly. “You should have been here, in the sixties. It was all going on.”

  “Why is the Sun King so determined to bring about the end of the night, and the Nightside?” I said.

  “Because he wants to bring back the great Dream of the sixties, and the Nightside is everything he disapproves of. He’s always had a very limited perception of what Dreams are. You can’t force them on people. He also wants everyone else to bow down to him, and admit that his Dream is better than theirs. Even if he won’t admit it to himself. He’s still very human.”

  I nodded slowly. So far, it all sounded plausible enough. Ghosts know everything because the world can’t hide anything from them, any more. The trick is to get ghosts to tell you the truth. Because the dead always have their own agendas. Hopefully, the Hawk Wind’s interests were the same as mine, in this case.

  “The Entities are lying to the Sun King,” said the Bar, in Julien Advent’s voice. “They always were. And they never were what he thought they were. Everything he does, he does to serve them and their true instincts. They will destroy me, and everyone trapped inside me, eventually. They’re only holding on to us now in case the Sun King should waver. We are hostages to his fortune. The Entities aren’t what he thinks they are.”

  “Then what are they?” I said. “Really?”

  “Hungry,” said the Hawk’s Wind.

  “Boss?” Cathy said quietly. “What’s it saying? I can’t hear anything!”

  I looked at her, then at Dennis, who shook his head quickly. “I can see the ghost but not hear it,” said Dennis, sounding more than a little put-out. “A wery fascinating presence, quite unlike anything I’ve ever encountered before. And I’ve been around. In more ways than one. So I am moved to ask, How is it you can hear it, Mr. Taylor, and I can’t?”

  “I told you,” I said. “I trained with old Carnacki. And he knew all sorts of things he never shared with the Institute that took his name.” I looked back at the Julien Advent shade in the doorway. It hurt to look at him, knowing he was as dead as the Bar now. Thanks to me. “Why did the Entities allow the Sun King to return?”

  “Because he’s ready. Programmed and primed, to do what they want. And, because the Droods are gone. The whole family, gone in a moment. Only Eddie remains, the last Drood. Arthur Pendragon and the London Knights are also gone, off fighting the good fight in another dimension. When they try to return, they will find the Entities have closed and sealed the dimensional gates behind them. And the Carnacki Institute . . . is preoccupied with its own problems. There are still certain individuals who might hope to stand against the Entities: the Walking Man, the Regent of Shadows, the Detective Inspectre. But by the time they can come together, it will be too late. The Entities will be in control. That leaves only you, John Taylor.”

  “How do I stop them?” I said urgently. “How do I stop the Sun King?”

  “Show him what the Entities really are,” said the ghost. “Show him what they really me
an to do with this world. And what they really think of his precious Dream. He’s still asleep. Wake him up.”

  The sixties Julien Advent turned his back on me and walked into the Bar. The door closed itself. And despite everything I could do to hold on to it, the Hawk’s Wind Bar & Grille slowly and silently vanished, and was gone.

  “You couldn’t have hung on a little longer?” I said angrily. “Not for one more question? Like, Where is the bloody Sun King? Where can I find him?”

  “Boss,” said Cathy. “You’re shouting at empty air. And freaking us all out. I mean, I’m sure it’s all very therapeutic, but . . .”

  “I thought the Entities took the Bar because that was where they intended to break through,” I said. “But I was wrong. I was so sure I’d find the Sun King here, but . . .”

  “What did the Bar tell you?” said Cathy.

  “Not what I needed to know. Think, think . . . Where is the Sun King, right now? Where would he go, to raise the sun and bring down the Nightside?”

  “He needs a weak spot,” said Cathy. “So where’s the oldest place in the Nightside? What’s been here longest, boss?”

  “Of course!” I said. “St. Jude’s! That was here before it was a church, before Christianity even got started!”

  “Then that’s where he’ll be,” said Cathy.

  She was right, of course. The oldest and most powerful spot in the Nightside was also its weakest because it had been around so long. The church is one of the few places on Earth where the physical world can make direct contact with the spiritual world. Could the Sun King use that as a doorway, a way to break in and out? Maybe. Some days, all you can do is wing it.

  I didn’t want to go to St. Jude’s; but I couldn’t tell Cathy why. Because Suzie might still be there. I hadn’t told Cathy about Suzie. How could I? But I had to go there. I had to go to St. Jude’s, right now . . . and all I could do was hope that Suzie was somewhere else, hunting me down.

  My back twinged briefly, where she’d shot me once, long ago.

  I turned abruptly to Dennis. “All right, that’s it. Turned out I didn’t need you after all, Den-Den. Go on back to your club. I think I’ve enjoyed about as much of your company as I can stand.”

  “Lots of people say that,” said Dennis. “Glad to have been of service. Be assured I bear no ill will at being dragged out of my wery own bar, hauled half-way across the Nightside, only to find I’m not needed. Perish the thought! I suppose a lift back’s out of the question?”

  “What do you think?” I said.

  He gave me a look of sleazy dignity. “Your mother knits socks in Hell.”

  And he turned and strode away. That’s Den-Den for you. Always knows exactly how far he can push it.

  “Boss,” said Cathy. “Your eyes are bleeding.”

  I put a hand to my face, and the fingers came away bloody. I could see the blood, but I couldn’t feel it. Cathy handed me a handkerchief, and I mopped roughly at my face till the bleeding stopped. Crying tears of blood was not a good sign. I couldn’t keep on using my gift like this. It was killing me by inches. I offered Cathy her handkerchief back; but she looked at the bloody mess and shook her head quickly. I tucked the handkerchief away in an inside pocket. Not the kind of thing you want to leave lying around, in the Nightside. There’s a lot you can achieve with someone else’s blood, little of it good. When I looked at Cathy again, she was looking at me as though she was already buying the wreath.

  “Boss,” said Cathy. “What’s happening to you? You look like shit. You look like death warmed up and allowed to congeal.”

  “It’s the gift,” I said, as steadily as I could. “You go to the well too often, you get blood instead of water. I’ll last. I’ve still got things to do.”

  “We need to get you back to Strangefellows,” said Cathy. “Alex has all kinds of stuff there that will put you right.”

  “No,” I said. “I think I’ve gone beyond anything Alex can help me with. It doesn’t matter. We have to get to St Jude’s. That’s got to be Ground Zero. You don’t have to come with me, Cathy.”

  “Yes I do,” she said sturdily. “I’m damned if I’ll let anyone interfere with the wedding preparations for tomorrow. You promised I could be maid of honour, and I’m holding you to it.” She stopped, and looked at me thoughtfully. “Do you suppose . . . the Lord of Thorns will be there?”

  “I’m banking on it,” I said. “He’s the only weapon I’ve got left.”

  TEN

  Truths and Consequences

  St. Jude’s is still the only real church in the Nightside, tucked away in an area where nobody goes and a hell of a long way from the Street of the Gods. Because St Jude’s is the real deal. It’s only an old, cold, stone structure, built so long ago no-one remembers when, with featureless grey walls, unmarked by time or weather or the designs of man. No tower, no bell, no crucifix on display, a few slit windows, here and there, and one narrow doorway. St Jude’s isn’t meant to be easy to find or easy to enter. This is a church where you can talk directly with your god, and expect to be heard. And, more worryingly, answered. Dreams can come true, and miracles can happen. So be very careful what you ask for.

  I had Cathy park the MINI Cooper some distance away from the church, and after she’d locked it up and armed the defences, we left the car where it was and made our way slowly, and carefully, and hopefully very quietly, down the long, narrow street that led to the church. St. Jude’s stood grim and alone in the moonlight. There was no-one else about, and even the ever-present roar of traffic seemed faded and far-away. As though we had come to a whole new place, where everyone kept their heads down to avoid being noticed. It’s one thing to pray to God when you’re in trouble; it’s quite another to have Him take a personal interest in you.

  St. Jude’s stood alone because it liked it that way. It existed in its own small and very private world, and always had.

  “You really think the Sun King won’t hear us coming?” said Cathy. “It’s so quiet here you could hear a mouse thinking about farting.”

  “Why make it easy for him?” I said. “I’ve reached the stage where I’ll take any advantage I can get my hands on.”

  Cathy gave me a sideways look. “You really believe all this living-god crap, boss?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve met powers and dominations in my time, and any number of gods and demons, but the Sun King . . . is something else. When he says he wants to change the world, he’s not being metaphorical. Look how easily he turned the whole of the Nightside against me. Even my mother couldn’t do that during the Lilith War; and she’s a Biblical Myth.”

  Even as we drew near St. Jude’s, keeping alert for any sound or sight of the Sun King, I was still keeping a careful watch on Cathy. If she was going to betray me, this would be the perfect time and place. I didn’t want to believe that, didn’t even want to think that; but after Suzie . . . I didn’t know what to believe any more. But all the way up the narrow road, right up to the church itself, Cathy said nothing, did nothing but stick close by my side, ready for anything. I felt ashamed to have doubted her. She always was a better person than me.

  We stopped a few yards short and looked the place over. St. Jude’s looked solid and implacable, as always, ancient and immovable, something you could trust and believe in. Not for mercy or compassion, or even justice; St, Jude’s stood for the truth. Because St. Jude’s was the one true thing in an ever-changing world.

  “What the hell are you suddenly smiling at?” said Cathy. “If there’s anything funny here, I missed it. This whole location is creeping me out, big-time.”

  “St. Jude’s,” I said. “Patron saint of lost causes. How appropriate.”

  “You’re weird, boss.”

  Strange lights blazed through the slit windows of the old church, stark, unrelenting lights that cut through the surrounding gloom like knives. More of the fierce light shone from the open door; pushing back the night like the glare from an open furnace. You only had t
o look at the light to know it wasn’t of this world. This was light from Outside, light seen from the other side.

  “The Lord of Thorns has got to be here. Hasn’t he?” said Cathy, uneasily. “There’s no way he’d allow anyone to misuse the church.”

  “I am sort of depending on his being here,” I admitted. “He’s one of the biggest guns I know, in the powers business. But look at the place. I can’t see the Lord of Thorns putting up with this . . . But then, I can’t see the Sun King being powerful enough to drive the Lord of Thorns out, either.”

  “So how powerful is the Sun King, boss?”

  “He’s as powerful as the Entities from Beyond need him to be,” I said. “And they . . . are starting to worry me.”

  “The Lord of Thorns has always worried me,” said Cathy. “He represents all the aspects of God most people don’t want to think about. I’ve never been too sure what he really is, or what he’s really for.”

  “I have had long conversations with him, on that very point,” I said. “And I have to say I’m no wiser. I need him to be on my side, one more time. Because I’m running out of options.” I looked at the light streaming out of the slit windows and shuddered briefly, as though something had pissed on my grave. “I don’t want to believe the Sun King can go head to head with the Lord of Thorns. If the Entities from Beyond can slap him down, we are all in deep doo-doo.”

  “You can say shit, boss,” said Cathy. “It’s all right. I’m all grown-up.”