Just Another Judgement Day

EPILOGUE

Sometime later, upstairs at the Adventurers Club:

The Club’s kitchens had put together a superb buffet at short notice, and the new Authorities were all making healthy inroads into the piles of food and drink, in celebration of the fact that they weren’t going to die, after all. Julien Advent was already on his second bottle of pink champagne and was rattling the rafters with an enthusiastic rendition of an old Victorian drinking song, “Dr. Jekyll’s Locum.” An altogether filthy song, but then the Victorians did like their filth, on the quiet. Jessica Sorrow had discovered a wholly splendid dessert, made up of white chocolate mousse layered over milk chocolate mousse layered over a dark chocolate truffle base. With cream. Every now and again, when she thought no-one was looking, Jessica would allow herself a small mouthful.

Count Video and Annie Abattoir had made complete fools of themselves over the cooked meats, and were now performing a tango up and down the middle of the room, complete with twirls and dips. King of Skin had put together a surprisingly healthy salad for himself, while drinking messily from a tall glass of snake-bite. (A terrible drink made up of vodka, brandy, cider, and cranberries. And other things. Drink enough of it and you can puke fruit and piss petrol.) Larry Oblivion, being dead, didn’t need to eat or drink, but the Club’s chef had prepared a special delicacy for him that he swore always went down well with the Club’s other mortally challenged members. I don’t know what it was, but it smelled awful, and it moved about on the plate. Larry seemed to enjoy it.

Walker and I were there, too, probably because neither of us have ever been able to refuse an offer of free food and drink. Chandra Singh declined. He said he had a duty to return home to India, to see what could be done for his broken sword, but I think he’d simply had enough of the Nightside.

I made a point of sampling a little bit of everything, just in the name of research and broadening my horizons. The Club’s chef had a spectacular reputation. Walker, on the other hand, didn’t touch a thing. Which was unlike him. I studied him thoughtfully as he stood alone on the other side of the room, peering out the only window, lost in his own thoughts. He was holding a folded handkerchief to his nose, which still hadn’t stopped bleeding. I found that worrying. The Walking Man hadn’t hit him that hard.

Julien Advent wandered over to join me, biting great chunks out of a huge steak and stilton pasty with his perfect Victorian teeth. He clapped me on the shoulder with more than usual good fellowship.

“You did well, John. I’m really quite proud of you. Imagine my surprise.”

“You’re welcome,” I said dryly. “You will remember to put your name and address on the back of the cheque, won’t you?”

“You’re not fooling me, John. This wasn’t only for the money.”

I decided to change the subject and nodded at Walker. “What’s up there? Walker’s always had the constitution of an ox, and the stubbornness to go with it.”

A lot of the good humour went out of Julian. I could actually see it slipping away. He looked at Walker, then at me.

“He hasn’t told you, has he?”

“What?” I said. “Told me what?”

“It isn’t public knowledge yet,” said Julien. “And won’t be, for some time. Not until things are . . . settled.”

“Tell me,” I said. “You know I need to know things like this.”

“I’m sure he would have got round to telling you. When he thought the time was right.”

“Julien!”

“He’s dying,” said Julien.

It was like being hit in the guts. I actually felt a chill in my heart. I looked across at Walker, still dabbing carefully at his blood-caked nostrils with his blood-stained handkerchief. He looked healthy enough. He couldn’t be dying. Not Walker. But it never once occurred to me to doubt Julien’s word. He was never wrong about things like that.

I couldn’t imagine the Nightside without Walker. Couldn’t imagine my life without Walker. He’d always been there, for as long as I could remember. Usually in the background, pulling strings and moving people around on his own private chessboard. Sometimes my enemy and sometimes my friend...When I was young, and my father was too busy drinking himself to death to have any time for me, it was Uncle Henry and Uncle Mark who were there to take care of things. Walker and the Collector. Perhaps the greatest authority figure and the greatest rogue the Nightside ever produced.

Walker. Who ran the Nightside, inasmuch as anyone did, or could. I’d worked for him, and against him, defied and defended him, according to which case I was working on. He’d threatened my life and saved it, for his own reasons. It seemed to me then that much of the time, I defined my life by how much it would affect his.

What would I do, when he was gone?

“How can he be dying?” I said. “He’s . . . protected. Everyone knows that. Did somebody finally get to him?”

“No,” said Julien. “There’s no villain to pursue here, no crime to avenge. It isn’t a voodoo curse, or an alien weapon, or some old case come back to haunt him. Just a rare and very severe blood disorder. Runs in the family, apparently. He lost his grandfather, his father, and an uncle to it, at much the same age he is now.”

“But...this is the Nightside!” I said. “There must be something someone can do.”

“He’s tried most of them,” said Julien. “But some things . . . must run their course. I suppose there is still hope. Miracles do happen in the Nightside. But you shouldn’t put too much hope in that, John. He doesn’t. We all die from something.”

“But . . . if he isn’t going to represent the new Authorities, who is? Who else is there, who can hold things together the way he has?”

“Ah,” said Julien. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

He clapped me on the shoulder again and moved away to talk with Jessica. Who was actually almost half-way through her dessert. People can change. I looked over at Walker again. Much had suddenly become clear. I knew now why Walker had found it necessary to visit my house for the first time and call me son. When a man is facing his end, the first thing he thinks of is family, and who will carry on the family business. Walker turned suddenly, and caught me staring at him. He regarded me thoughtfully, dabbed at his nose one last time, folded the blood-stained handkerchief into a neat square, and tucked it back into his top pocket, then nodded for me to come over and join him.

I did so, carefully not allowing myself to be hurried, and stood beside him at the window. He stuck out his hand to me. I went to shake it, and he shook his head.

“The rings, John,” he said, firmly.

“Rings?” I said, innocently. “What rings?”

“The alien power rings you took off Bulldog Hammond earlier tonight, here at the Club. You know I can’t allow you to keep them.”

I dug into my coat pockets and handed them over. He counted the rings carefully, then made them vanish somewhere about his person. I wasn’t too upset. It wasn’t like I had a clue how to work the damned things.

“I was rather hoping you’d forgotten about them,” I said.

“I never forget anything that matters,” said Walker. “Julien . . . told you, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“I swear, that man never could keep a secret.”

“I don’t think he believes in them,” I said. “That’s why he runs a newspaper, so he can tell people things he thinks they ought to know. When were you going to tell me?”

“Eventually,” he said. “I was working up to it. I didn’t want to muddy the waters, not when there were still so many things we needed to work out between us.”

“This is why you’re not a part of the new Authorities,” I said, the penny suddenly dropping.

“They don’t need me,” said Walker. “In fact, as a new force in the Nightside, they’re better off operating without an outsider like me. They need to start with a completely clean slate, not having to be committed or supportive of any decision or action I might have taken in the past. They need to be their own people now. Of course, I still have a lot to do, while I’m still able to do it.”

“And when you’re not?” I said.

He looked at me steadily, then smiled unexpectedly. “I thought you might like to take over, John.”

“Me?” I was honestly shocked. “You know how much I’ve always hated authority figures!”

“The best man for my job is the man who doesn’t want it,” Walker said easily. “The man least likely to be corrupted by power is the man who never wanted it in the first place. And besides, doesn’t every father want his son to follow in his footsteps?”

“Don’t start that again,” I said. “Look, there has to be someone in the Nightside better qualified than me . . .”

“Almost certainly,” said Walker. “But who else do I know as well as I know you, John? Who else could I trust as much as I have learned to trust you?”

“Give me a minute, and I’ll make you a list,” I said. “Walker . . . Henry, there must be somebody who can help you.”

“No,” said Walker. “There isn’t. I’ve looked. In all the places you can think of, and a few that would never even occur to you.”

“What about the Street of the Gods? There are Beings there who raise the dead and heal the sick every day of the week, and run special matinees for the tourists!”

“Not in any useful way,” said Walker. “There are . . . possibilities, I admit, but they all involve paying a price I find unacceptable.” He looked at me thoughtfully. “You did well today, John. The Walking Man really might have killed you.”

“Yes,” I said. “He might have.”

“I wonder,” said Walker. “Would he really have been able to kill the new Authorities if he had been able to get to them? Or would his God’s power have failed him at the last moment, as it did with you?”

“We’ll never know now,” I said. “And I have to wonder just who was being tested here today?”

“All of us, probably,” said Walker. He paused for a moment, looking around the room at nothing in particular. “I enjoyed meeting your father again, during the Lilith War, even if only for a short while. Helped me to remember who he and I used to be, all the things we meant to do, before life got in the way . . . I don’t think he would have approved of the man I’ve become. But I know he was proud of you.”

He turned abruptly and walked away, heading for the buffet. I didn’t go after him. I had a lot to think about. The trouble with Walker . . . was that anything could be one of his schemes. He wasn’t above using even a truth like this to manipulate me for his own ends. Julien came over to join me.

“I’m pretty sure I know what that was about,” he said.

“Pretty sure you don’t,” I said.

“He wants you to take over his role in the Nightside. Not a bad idea, actually. I may not always have approved of the way you do things, but I’ve never doubted your heart is in the right place. But consider this, instead. What if I were to offer you a place in the new Authorities?”

“People are lining up today to offer me things I don’t want,” I said. “Thank you, Julien, but no. My job is to look out for the people the Authorities can’t or won’t help. To be there for people the system has failed. But I will...hang around. Work with you, when I can. Be your conscience, when necessary.”

Julien sighed. “You always have to do it your own way, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll talk to the others.”

“You do that,” I said. “Preferably when I’m a safe distance away.”

We shook hands, very solemnly, and he walked off again.

The door slammed open, and Suzie Shooter strode into the room. Everybody stopped what they were doing to look, holding themselves very still. Suzie glared at them all impartially, then dismissed them all with a sniff, to join me. Everyone else went back to their food and drink with a certain amount of relief, like a group of animals who’d just been joined at the watering hole by a well-known predator. Suzie nodded calmly to me, and her bandoliers of bullets clinked softly.

I’ve always liked the soft, creaking sounds her leathers make.

“You’ve missed all the excitement, Suzie,” I said. “Not like you.”

“I’ve been busy,” she said, in her usual cold, measured tones. “Looking after the abused children we rescued from Precious Memories. Making sure they got all the help they needed, arranging for them to get safely home again. Or seeing they had somewhere safe to go, if that wasn’t going to be possible. And then . . . I stayed on anyway. Just being with the children, comforting them. They wouldn’t let anyone else touch them, at first. They’d learned not to trust anyone. But... they could accept it, from me. I suppose we can always recognise our own kind.” She smiled, briefly. “I held them, and they held me. And I wonder... who was comforting who?”

“Suzie . . .”

“Hush,” she said. “Hush, John. My love.”

She put her arms around me and hugged me close. It was a careful, gentle hug, but unmistakably the real thing. For the first time since I’d known her, Suzie didn’t have to force herself to touch me. I held her back, carefully, gently, and her breathing in my ear was slow and easy and content.

Miracles do happen, in the Nightside.