The Neon Court (38 page)

We slumped forward, the sweat that had been too hot to prickle before bursting out on our skin. The floor was too hot for skin to touch; it stung through our trousers, made the soles of our shoes sticky. We staggered, coughing and gasping in the sickly-tasting air, looking for the others. Something moved in a corner. A thing half woman, half something else entirely, the clothes on its back barely clinging black rags, its silver skin covered in ash and dirt, its hair stiff metal, its eyes mad red, its fingers adorned with black claws. The bones of its spine stood up like shark teeth, and its knees were bent back the wrong way. It watched us, and there was animal madness in its eye, every part of it quivering with power and rage.

I breathed, “Dees?” and took an uneasy step forward.

A lizard tongue, blood red, licked the air. A voice, human only in that it used the language, hissed, “Only just.” Her head moved, sharp and fast, like an animal hearing a thing beyond human sense. One finger, a joint too many set in the bones, unrolled towards a shape in the corner. I crawled towards it, a smell on our senses that we did not choose to name. A red coat, burnt almost to nothing. Knees tucked up to chin, arms wrapped around face like a child afraid of the dark. Still
breathing. Just. I knelt down by it, reached out uneasily, rolled one arm back. It resisted. I hissed, “Theydon! Theydon look at me!”

If anything, the limbs locked tighter.

“Look at us!” we snarled.

An arm moved aside. The head turned. There was a hole in his face. It started just below his left eye, where his cheekbone was clearly visible, whiteness protruding between pink tendon and red blood, and ran, criss-crossed only by a few shreds of muscle, to the bottom of his teeth, revealing gum and bone beneath. His left eye was closed, twice the size it should have been, the eyebrow seared away from above it, and his ears seemed to have tried to melt into the flesh around them. I could see the whiteness of three ribs in his chest, and one arm hung crooked, that of a puppet badly strung. He pushed me back, then hunched over himself, hands pressed again to his face. A sound, a moan, came from him. It was the sound of a hurt animal, that rose and rose, until the room was just that wordless mewl. He rocked back and forth, magic blooming and flickering out around him, like a match guttering in the wind. Still the sound kept on, until breathless sobbing changed one sound of pain into stop-start gasps. I crawled back towards him, saw the magic bloom again at his fingers, saw him try to wash his face in it, sweep power over his features, trying to work the glamour. It ran over his skin, settled into the cracks, seemed to linger, and then washed off again like water on oil. I tried to touch him and he swatted my hand away.

“Theydon?”

“Can’t look can’t look can’t look can’t look …” The chant came, low, tumbling out between each ragged gasp.

“Theydon?”

“Can’t look can’t look can’t look can’t see can’t see can’t see …”

“Let me help you.”

“See look see look see look see look …”

“You need a doctor.”

“So bright so bright so bright so bright so bright …”

“You’ll die here. Come on …”

Again I tried to pull him up, again he shook off my hand.

Then Dees was beside me. “Leave him,” she said, her voice the inhuman rattle of the silver-skinned dragon. “He knew the dangers.”

“He’ll die …”

“Yes,” she replied flatly. “It was always likely to be the case.”

We hesitated. Somewhere nearby, we thought we heard a woman laugh. Or maybe cry. Hard to tell. We looked towards the door. I looked back. “Arseholes to that,” I breathed. “I’ve got enough bad karma without adding this.”

She grabbed my arm as I reached forward, and this time her fingers didn’t release me, and her grip was metal, ticking hot metal still adjusting to the changing temperatures around and within it, and her claws bit down into our skin. “Leave him!” she snarled. “Or we will both die here too.”

I looked down at Theydon, still rocking, still sweeping his hands over his face. For a moment, a hint of skin where there was none, a suggestion of wholeness. Then it slipped away, and he was smaller than I had thought him, a little hunched man on the edge of becoming old, rocking, still whispering,

“See look look look look see do you see look look look at me see see see see can’t you see look look!”

We looked away.

We turned our back.

Dees relaxed.

We took a step towards the doorway.

There was a woman standing in it. Her hair was burnt, her skin was cracked, and there was a bloodstain in the middle of her T-shirt, right above her heart. She stammered, “M-Matthew?”

I heard the little hiss of breath as Dees’ back arched to strike. I stepped between them, turning my eyes down to the floor. “Oda?” I breathed, shuffling another step closer, shoulder first.

“Mr Mayor!” snapped Dees, edging after me.

I waved her back. Oda didn’t move, just stood there, bewildered in the sodium light, face turned away from it as if it hurt. Her eyes, we had almost forgotten the black churned-up ruin that was her eyes. One look and we could feel our own begin to burn, so we looked away. Bakker stood by her now, peering intently at her face.

“Oda? Oda, do you know what’s happening?”

“Careful,” breathed Bakker. “Very careful.”

Our hands were nearly touching hers. “Oda? Do you understand? Do you see what’s happening?”

She glanced up, and again our eyes met, and again our eyes burnt, and we flinched away.

“Matthew?” she whimpered. “Can you hear it? Can you hear?”

“Hear what?” I asked.

“Hear it! Can you hear?” She pressed her hands to the sides of her head like she was trying to keep her brain from bursting out. “Listen! All the things that happened in the dark, all the dirty little things, can’t you hear here, hear, here, there hear, listen!”

“Oda, I …”

She grabbed our hands suddenly, pulled us close to her. We couldn’t feel her breath, her skin was clammy cold, we had to close our eyes and look away. I heard Dees start behind me, ready to attack, tasted her smoky breath on the air, laced with deep-down city magic. “Listen! All the things humans do when the lights go out. Can’t you hear them? The dirty, disgusting things, the shameful things, because when the lights go out no one will see you do it, do you see? Sweat and lies and … and … I can’t make it stop, Matthew, I can’t make it stop, hear, do you hear, hear it?”

I shook my head. “I can’t. I’m sorry, Oda, I can’t. Oda, there’s a thing …”

“Why can’t you hear it?” she pleaded, her nails biting into skin as her hands tightened around mine. “Why can’t you hear?”

“Oda, there’s something happening here. There’s a creature, a … a thing called Blackout, it possesses people, takes over their thoughts, their bodies, it’s …”

“Why don’t you ever listen?!” she screamed, and suddenly let go of our hands and slammed her own, palms first, into our chest. I felt the floor go out from beneath my feet, the breath expelled from my lungs, as a force, more than just muscle, slammed into our middle and threw us backwards, landing us with a crunch on the black cracked floor in the middle of the room. I saw something bright and fast move by me and Dees leapt, fingers stretched for Oda, the sound of a thousand burglar alarms at bat-slaughtering frequencies coming from her throat. Oda fell back beneath the weight of her, and for a moment all I could see was fists and claws struggling at each other’s face, a flash of blood and I couldn’t tell whose, spilling out across the floor. I crawled to my feet in time for something dark and hot to bloom between the two women, pick Dees up by the scruff of the neck, throw her against the
ceiling, then down onto the floor, then throw her up again like a yoyo. I shouted, “Oda! Stop it!” and as she staggered back to her feet we gathered electricity to our fingertips, crackling walls of it, and hurled it at her.

It would have set an ordinary human on fire. It slammed into the middle of Oda’s chest and she staggered backwards, blinking and shaking her head, clearing it of sparks. Dees dropped to the floor, smoke pouring out of every metal joint. Oda looked down at Dees, head on one side, curious, then bent down and with one easy fist picked Dees up by the throat and held her, toes barely scraping the ground. “Alderman,” she said, and her voice wasn’t her own. “We remember the Aldermen. They lit lamps to drive us away, thought that was all it would take, just a twist in the angles of the shadows in the dark. Little scuttling mortals who can’t understand that they made us stronger when they grew afraid.”

Dees wheezed, claws scrabbling at Oda’s arms. I saw Oda’s blood seeping from her, but she didn’t flinch, didn’t move. I gathered more electricity about myself, letting the scent of gas fill my nose and the feeling of flame ignite in my belly.

“Oda,” I whispered, “put her down. Put her down now!”

Oda looked past Dees at me, and smiled. Her fingers opened and Dees flopped to the floor, gasping for breath. I realised that my eyes were on hers, felt blood burn in the corners of my eyes, looked away, watching her feet, power dancing off my skin. “Oda,” I breathed. “You know that there’s something inside of you. You know it’s magic, you know it’s bad. There’s still time.”

“Time?” she asked, stepping over the fallen form of Dees and moving towards me. “Time for what? Time to change, time to grow, time to burn, time to brighten, time for day, time for night, time for darkness, time for this, time for there, time for here, time for now, time for us, time for you, time for them …”

“Stop it.”

“Big time little time passing time time standing still time racing time rushing and we never change! All that time! We’ve been waiting for so much time. Do you know what we are?”

She was right in front of us now. The room flickered crazy blue-white with the power running over our skin, ready to strike.

“You’re Blackout,” I breathed. “You’re the thing at the end of the alley.”

“But what does it mean?” she asked.

“The thing that comes with the night.” To my surprise, it wasn’t Oda, or me who had spoken. Bakker stood just behind her, his eyes holding mine, keeping mine away from hers. “Blackout isn’t just the fear of the dark. No one fears the dark. You fear the things that happen in it.”

I felt Oda’s – or the thing that was not Oda’s – fingers run down my arm, exploring it, every dent and line.

“You tell me,” I gasped between breath.

A little sound, almost a croon, a whine, passed between her lips. “I didn’t mean to,” she moaned. “Didn’t mean to it seemed all right at the time, so sorry, so sorry, won’t tell, it wasn’t my fault, wasn’t my fault, no one need ever know what happened here just you and me just you and me and it’s not like anyone cares not here not now we can do anything because no one will ever know anything at all what can you imagine anything at all it doesn’t matter no one will see no one will judge us now the sun’s gone down it wasn’t me wasn’t mine didn’t see isn’t yours hasn’t come didn’t mean couldn’t stop didn’t care mustn’t tell hasn’t heard didn’t didn’t didn’t didn’t didn’t …” She stopped. Her voice was an animal whine. “Do you understand yet? Can you look us in the eye?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “I know what you are.”

Her fingers jerked shut around my wrists, shaking now.

“Matthew?” she whimpered. “Do you know how to kill me?”

Sparks snapped from my skin to hers. I could see the clothes on her arm singe and burn where they struck, see little yellow blisters bursting out on the palms of her hands where she touched the fire wrapped round me, and she didn’t seem to care.

Bakker stood behind her, saying nothing.

I looked at him. “Help me?” I asked.

He didn’t move. Didn’t frown, didn’t smile, just stood there.

I looked at Oda. Blood was running down in little tears from the corners of her eyes. I tasted salt on my lips, and realised the same was happening to me. “Can’t,” I whispered. “Can’t. Sorry.”

Her face darkened, drawing tight. Her fingers bit so hard and deep
into my skin that I gasped. “Then what use are you?” she snarled, and I couldn’t look away, I tried but I couldn’t, tried to turn my head but there was just mad blood-red blackness and burning and no way out, nothing to hold on to, a great big drop into a great big nothing and we tried to burn and tried to scream and perhaps these things happened, somewhere a long way off, but she didn’t let go, and we kept falling and there was blood on our face and on our lips and then

then a thing with a hole in its face, screaming rage, caught Oda, or the thing that had been Oda, by the throat with one hand and with the other rammed a short glass stabbing blade up to the hilt into her belly.

Her eyes went to it.

I staggered away, covering my face with my hands, wiping blood clear from my burning eyes, ears ringing, the sensation of glass bottles exploding above the bridge of my nose. I heard Oda make a little “uh” sound and glanced back. Theydon was there, her blood soaking his hands, the only thing holding her upright, blade buried so far in you could see the end poking out the other side. She stared at it, then, slowly, looked up and met his eyes. He stared back, face twisted into a grin of tooth and gum, even as his eyes started to bleed. She reached up slowly, put both hands around his face, like a mother holding a child. The grin on his face faded. He began to shake, quiver like paper in a gale, then he closed his eyes – much too late – and screamed, and there was blood running down from his eyes, his nose, his ears, and he screamed and screamed and then just stopped, head on one side, every contorted muscle locked, as if the body didn’t even have the strength to relax, and flopped in her grasp. She let him go and he hit the floor with the final thump of a creature fated not to rise again. Then Oda looked down at the sword rammed through her middle. Carefully, she closed both hands around the hilt and, without a word, drew the blade out. Blood stretched and slid along it. There was the sound of things parting. It came free. She held it up, examining it, running her finger along the edge, testing it. It cut the end of her finger, a thin little slice, and she examined that too.

Bakker said, “Run.”