Sharper Than a Serpent's Tooth (12 page)

Dead Boy went about his business as methodically as any butcher, until nothing was left of the Beadle but blood and gore and piles of separated pieces, some of them still twitching. When it was over, and the Beadle's eyes had stopped rolling in his severed head, Julien took the ring of keys from the discarded leather belt and set about freeing the faeries from their leg irons. I helped as best I could. The faeries thanked us tearfully, in voices like the singing of birds. The iron shackles had burned the faeries' skin where they had touched, and even after they were freed the faeries stayed on their wooden benches, huddling together for comfort. One of them looked at Julien and raised an uncertain tiny hand.

"Please, sir, we're hungry."

"No problem!" Dead Boy said cheerfully. He gathered up an armful of body parts and assorted offal, and marched off into the adjoining kitchen. "I know a great recipe for chunky soup!"

Julien looked at me. "Is he serious?"

"Almost certainly," I said. "Fortunately, I've already eaten."

We moved a little away, so we could talk privately. The faeries and the two feral children looked at each other, equally uncertain, but finally the boy moved towards them, one step at a time, and crouched before the nearest faerie. The boy put forward his head to be petted, and after a long moment the faerie reached out a small hand and gently tousled the matted hair. The boy grinned happily, just like a dog, and the girl padded forward to join him. I allowed myself a small breath of relief and gave my full attention to Julien.

"What are we going to do with them?" I said quietly. "All right, we rescued them. Great. But they've still got to live. They can't go back to their own dimension, but they don't have anywhere else to go. And there are things out there in the Nightside that would eat them alive."

"Well," Julien said thoughtfully, "they've got a really good business going here, so why shouldn't they take it over and run it for themselves? Someone has to make all the magic artifacts… They could make a comfortable living for themselves. I'm pretty sure the boy and the girl could be retrained as bodyguards. And I'll underwrite the business to begin with and provide the faeries with someone suitable to act as a front, so no-one will know about them."

"That's very kind of you," I said, and I meant it, "but what about all the other sweatshops in this building? What about all the other people slaving away for pennies, in buildings just like this all over the Nightside?"

Julien met my gaze steadily. "I know. There are hundreds of places as bad as this, if not thousands. But one of the first things you learn in the Nightside is that you can't save everyone. You just… do what you can, save whom you can, and try to be content with that."

"And what about this business's original owners?" I said. "Won't they kick up a stink about being frozen out of their own business?"

"Not after the piece I'm going to write for the Times," said Julien. "I'll change some of the details to protect the faeries, but it will still be fine, loud, incendiary stuff. The owners won't want to be identified with the stink I'm going to generate. May I mention you and Dead Boy by name in my story?"

"I don't mind," Dead Boy said cheerfully, from the kitchen. Something was cooking, and it smelled really good.

"If you think it'll help," I said.

Julien Advent considered me for a long moment. "Maybe I won't mention you, John."

"I quite understand," I said. "Lot of people feel that way about me."

"Why did you come here looking for me?" said Julien.

"Ah," I said. "Now, you're probably not going to like this, Julien, but…"

Six

Guardian Angel

W
hen you're about to do something really risky, or really dumb, or both, it's nearly always a good idea to do it in company. That way, at least you've got someone to hide behind when it all starts going horribly wrong. So, while the freed faeries gathered happily around a huge cauldron brimming over with chunky soup, and the feral boy and girl gnawed meat off oversized bones and cracked them open to get at the marrow, I took Julien Advent to one side, for a quiet word.

"I need to talk with you and Dead Boy, somewhere private."

"Does this concern your cunning plan, the one I'm really not going to like?"

"Got it in one."

"I know just the place."

It turned out that Julien had stumbled across the Beadle's private living quarters while he was exploring the building. He led Dead Boy and me back up onto the gallery, to a concealed door at its end, and through that into a loft conversion. The bare-raftered room turned out to be a lot bigger on the inside than it appeared on the outside, but that's a common spell in the Nightside, where living space is at a premium. The Beadle's living quarters were all hanging drapes and throw cushions, in assorted eye-dazzling colours, along with fresh flowers in tall vases, Andy Warhol prints on the walls, and delicate little china statuettes of wide-eyed kittens.

Dead Boy headed immediately for the rack of wine bottles at the far end of the room, sampled several of them in an experimental sort of way, before finally settling for a thick blue liquor that seethed heavily against the containing glass. Personally, I wouldn't have used it for cleaning combs. Dead Boy took a long drink straight from the bottle, shuddered slightly, then grinned widely.

"It takes a lot to affect you, when you're dead," he said cheerfully. "But this stuff's got a kick like one hundred and twenty per cent embalming fluid."

I wrestled the bottle away from him and put it to one side. "Trust me," I said. "You really don't want to do what I've got in mind while you're drunk."

"I hate it already," said Dead Boy.

We arranged ourselves as comfortably as we could on the embroidered throw cushions, and I explained slowly and carefully just what it was I had in mind. First, I described in some detail the devastated future Nightside I'd seen in the Timeslip. The ruined buildings and the terrible silence, in which the only things moving were swarming mutated insects. Humanity was gone, and all the world was dead and cold. A future that was my fault, somehow. Julien and Dead Boy listened intently, drinking in the details. They'd heard rumours of what I'd seen, most of the Nightside had, but I'd never told anyone the whole story. And even now, I kept a few things to myself. They didn't need to know about the Razor Eddie I found there, the last living man in the world. They didn't need to know I killed him, with his own razor, as a mercy.

Of course, when I finished my story they had to argue with me. They were far too sophisticated to believe in a single, unavoidable future. In Fate, or Destiny.

"There are any number of potential time-lines, possible futures," said Julien, a little condescendingly. "None of them more certain than any other."

"Right," said Dead Boy. "My own car comes from an alternate future that clearly has nothing to do with the one you described."

"Once, that might have been true," I said. "But our future, the future our time-line is heading towards, is getting more certain all the time. I've… seen things. Signs, portents, details coming true despite everything I could do to avoid them. According to Old Father Time, the number of possibilities for our time-line is narrowing down, steadily decreasing to only one inevitable future."

"Because of your mother," said Julien.

"Yes," I said. "Because of Lilith. She's such a powerful Being that her mere presence here is enough to overturn the whole apple-cart and rewrite the rules of reality itself."

I let them consider that for a while, then pressed on. They had to understand the background of my thinking, in order to appreciate what I intended to do.

"I have become increasingly convinced," I said slowly, "that the War I'm supposed to start with Lilith and her followers could be the very thing that will bring about the destruction of the Nightside. That we'll tear the world apart, fighting over it. So I've decided I can't go any further, in good conscience, without better information. And the only people who can offer me that… are my Enemies. The people who've been sending their agents to kill me for as long as I can remember."

Julien leaned forward eagerly. "You finally found out who they are?"

"Yes," I said. "They're the last surviving major players of the devastated future, hiding out in the final stages of the War, sometime before my visit in the Timeslip. The few remaining heroes and villains, desperately sending their agents back into the Past, to kill me before I do… whatever it is I do, to damn everyone."

Mien and Dead Boy looked at me, silenced by shock, by the staggering implications of what I'd just said.

"Who… ?" said Julien.

"Familiar names, familiar faces," I said. "You'd know them."

(I didn't tell Julien Advent that he would become one of my Enemies, in that terrible future. Or that he would die trying to kill me, and his dead body would be made over into one of the awful agents they sent back after me. He didn't need to know that.)

"Why have you never told me any of this before?" Julien said, finally.

"Because you would have told everyone," I said. "That's what you do. And I wasn't ready to trust… everyone."

"This is sounding more and more like a closed circle," said Dead Boy. "How can you… talk with your Enemies?"

"By travelling forward through Time into their future," I said steadily. "And confronting them. Because they're the only ones who know what happened, to bring about their future. They can tell me… what I mustn't do."

What can I do? I'd asked the future Razor Eddie, moments before I killed him. What can I do to prevent this happening?

Kill yourself, he said.

"But… they're your Enemies!" said Dead Boy. "They'll kill you on sight!"

"Then I'll have to be very persuasive," I said. "And talk really quickly."

"And if they kill you anyway?" said Julien.

"Well, that might solve the problem," I said. "But trust me, this is not a suicide run. I have every intention of coming back alive, with the information I need to put Lilith back in her box and avoid the end of the world."

"It's a good thing I'm already dead," said Dead Boy, "or I think I'd be very worried about this."

"Travel through Time takes a hell of a lot of power," said Julien, frowning heavily. "There's not many who can do it. Or would do it for you, John. I suppose I could talk to Old Father Time, on your behalf. Put in a good word for you."

"Oh, I think he's got a very good word for me," I said. "He's already arranged one trip through Time for me, and after the way that turned out, I don't think he'll be doing that again, anytime soon." Julien looked at me sharply, scenting a story, and I shook my head. "Trust me on this, Julien, you really don't want to know."

"All right," said Dead Boy, "if Old Father Time is out of the picture, who does that leave?"

"I've been thinking about that," I said. "The Collector is supposed to have a whole bunch of really weird Time travel mechanisms; but he's still mad at me. For a whole bunch of reasons."

Dead Boy sniffed loudly. "The Collector's mad at everyone. And vice versa. I wouldn't piss down his throat if his heart was on fire."

"Then there's the Chronovore," I said loudly. "Who eats up all the little lost moments of your life, the ones that you can never account for. But he works strictly for cash these days. Serious cash. There's always the Travelling Doctor, but you can never rely on him being around when you need him."

"That's everyone I know of," said Julien. "Who else is left?"

"This is where it all starts getting a bit risky," I said carefully. "I think I know someone On High who might owe me a favour. So… I plan to summon an angel down from Heaven."

I don't think I've ever seen two such appalled faces in my life. Dead Boy's eyes actually bulged in their sockets, and Julien Advent's face went as pale as Dead Boy's. They both tried to say something, but couldn't get the words out for spluttering.

"It's really not all that different from calling up a demon," I said quickly, trying hard to sound confident. 'The principle is the same, only in reverse. "That's why I needed both of you, for my plan to work. Dead Boy, to help me send my message beyond the planes of the living, and Julien, to help me contact the Courts of the Holy. You have a singular nature, Dead Boy, being both dead and alive at the same time, and I can use that ambiguity to punch my way through a lot of the usual barriers. Julien, you created a drug to split apart the best and worst elements in man. You embraced the best elements, of course, and became a hero, a pure soul. Or at least, as close to one as I'm going to find in the Nightside. Your purity of spirit will help my message get where it needs to go. Theoretically."

"And that's it?" said Dead Boy, when he finally got his voice back. "That's your marvellous plan? You were right, I don't like it. In fact, I think I would go so far as to say I hate it! Have you lost your mind, John? I can't even count all the ways this could go horribly wrong. You and Julien could get killed, I could… well, I'm not entirely sure what could happen to me, but I am ready to bet good money that it would be really, really bad! I think I'm going to have one of my turns… Look, you can't just go banging on Saint Peter's Gates and demand he send down an angel to talk to you! We're all going to end up as pillars of salt, I know it…"

"For once I find myself in complete agreement with Dead Boy," said Julien, glaring at me sternly. "If we summon an angel, and please note the emphasis I am placing on the word if, what we'll get will be the real thing. A messenger of God, complete in all its power and glory. Not the weakened, limited things that are normally all that can manifest in the Nightside. And you of all people should remember how much damage and loss of life those weakened presences brought about during the angel war last year. They're still rebuilding parts of the city. If we call down the real thing, what's to stop it wiping us all out on a whim?"

"First," I said, "the angel will be contained within a protective circle, just like a demon. Second, your presence and Dead Boy's will add to the protections considerably. That's why I waited to connect with you two, before I tried anything. It is… possible, for things to go wrong, yes. Summonings are a bit like fishing—you can never be sure whether you'll hook a sprat or a killer shark. The last time I tried this…"