“It’s all right, Madeleine,” he said calmly. “I know who this is. I’ve been expecting him. Now go and find something useful to do, there’s a dear, while I tell this gentleman things he almost certainly doesn’t want to hear.”
Madeleine sniffed loudly again, and made her flick knife disappear. “Well, that’s something, I suppose. Are you sure you can trust him?”
“Absolutely not, but it’s been that sort of a day for several centuries now.”
Madeleine walked around the hourglass and disappeared, leaving Time and me alone in the great Hall. He smiled briefly as he looked down at himself.
“I really should change this image for something more appropriate. I am a Transient Being, after all… but so many of you seem to find this appearance comforting, these days. I think I know why, and the Travelling Doctor has a lot to answer for…”
“Quite,” I said, because you have to say something, into pauses like that. “I’m sorry to intrude, but…”
“Yes, yes, my boy, I know. Lilith has come to the Nightside at last, and it’s all falling apart at the seams. But unfortunately, I can’t intervene. I can’t help you. No-one can.”
“Ah.” Not what I wanted to hear. “I came here because…”
“Oh I know why you’re here, John Taylor. I know what you want from me. I’ve got it right here. But you won’t like it.”
He gestured vaguely with his left hand, and there floating on the air between us was a small black case with a dull matte surface. The lid rose up on its own, revealing the Speaking Gun, lying nestled in bloodred velvet. It lay there quietly, for the moment, the ugliest gun ever made. Just looking at it made me feel as though a mad dog had just entered the Hall. The Gun had been fashioned from meat, from flesh and bone, with dark-veined gristle and shards of cartilage, all held together with strips of colourless skin. Living tissues, shaped into a killing tool. Thin slabs of bone made up the handle, held in place by tightly stretched skin with a hot sweaty look. The trigger was a long canine tooth. The red meat of the barrel gleamed wetly. I wondered just how much of my mother’s body had gone into making this awful thing, this Speaking Gun. Up close, the ancient weapon smelled like an animal in heat. And I could hear it, breathing, in its case.
“I really don’t care for the thought of such a powerful weapon in the hands of the infamous John Taylor,” Old Father Time said sharply. “Far too much temptation for any mortal. Let alone you. But… I’m going to give it to you anyway.” He looked briefly at the huge hourglass. “Partly because time is running out for the Nightside. Partly because try as I might, I can’t seem to find anyone else more fitting to give it to… But mostly because a future version of myself came back in time to tell me to give it to you, and I really wish I wouldn’t do things like that to myself.”
The lid of the case snapped shut, and the black box dropped unceremoniously into my hands. Time sighed heavily, shook his head, and snapped his fingers. And all at once, I was somewhere else.
Thirteen -
Mother Love
Fourteen -
The Things We Sacrifice, for Love
Epilogue
Madeleine sniffed loudly again, and made her flick knife disappear. “Well, that’s something, I suppose. Are you sure you can trust him?”
“Absolutely not, but it’s been that sort of a day for several centuries now.”
Madeleine walked around the hourglass and disappeared, leaving Time and me alone in the great Hall. He smiled briefly as he looked down at himself.
“I really should change this image for something more appropriate. I am a Transient Being, after all… but so many of you seem to find this appearance comforting, these days. I think I know why, and the Travelling Doctor has a lot to answer for…”
“Quite,” I said, because you have to say something, into pauses like that. “I’m sorry to intrude, but…”
“Yes, yes, my boy, I know. Lilith has come to the Nightside at last, and it’s all falling apart at the seams. But unfortunately, I can’t intervene. I can’t help you. No-one can.”
“Ah.” Not what I wanted to hear. “I came here because…”
“Oh I know why you’re here, John Taylor. I know what you want from me. I’ve got it right here. But you won’t like it.”
He gestured vaguely with his left hand, and there floating on the air between us was a small black case with a dull matte surface. The lid rose up on its own, revealing the Speaking Gun, lying nestled in bloodred velvet. It lay there quietly, for the moment, the ugliest gun ever made. Just looking at it made me feel as though a mad dog had just entered the Hall. The Gun had been fashioned from meat, from flesh and bone, with dark-veined gristle and shards of cartilage, all held together with strips of colourless skin. Living tissues, shaped into a killing tool. Thin slabs of bone made up the handle, held in place by tightly stretched skin with a hot sweaty look. The trigger was a long canine tooth. The red meat of the barrel gleamed wetly. I wondered just how much of my mother’s body had gone into making this awful thing, this Speaking Gun. Up close, the ancient weapon smelled like an animal in heat. And I could hear it, breathing, in its case.
“I really don’t care for the thought of such a powerful weapon in the hands of the infamous John Taylor,” Old Father Time said sharply. “Far too much temptation for any mortal. Let alone you. But… I’m going to give it to you anyway.” He looked briefly at the huge hourglass. “Partly because time is running out for the Nightside. Partly because try as I might, I can’t seem to find anyone else more fitting to give it to… But mostly because a future version of myself came back in time to tell me to give it to you, and I really wish I wouldn’t do things like that to myself.”
The lid of the case snapped shut, and the black box dropped unceremoniously into my hands. Time sighed heavily, shook his head, and snapped his fingers. And all at once, I was somewhere else.
Thirteen -
Mother Love
I was back in the Nightside, in Time Tower Square, and my first thought was how quiet and peaceful everything was. I looked slowly around me, and no-one looked back. The mobs and monsters had all moved on, probably because there was nothing left in the Square to destroy, and no-one left to kill. The buildings were fire-blackened frameworks, collapsed inwards or outwards, cracked stone and broken bricks. There were bodies lying everywhere, men and women and others so damaged or torn apart it was impossible to tell who or what they might have been originally. They looked like so many broken toys someone had got tired of playing with. Nothing moved, anywhere. There weren’t even any rats nosing among the bodies. Maybe they’d all been killed, too. Out beyond the Square, the War was still going on, in the distance. I could hear faint cries and roars and explosions, and now and again there’d be a sudden surge of light, pushing back the darkness. But the Square was still, and silent.
I couldn’t help thinking of the devastated future Nightside I’d seen so many times. The dead lands, the broken world, and all because of me. A future that insisted on edging nearer, no matter how hard I worked to push it away, becoming more real, more imminent, detail by detail. Maybe some futures are inevitable, after all.
I slowly became aware of a soft, repetitive sound, and I looked round to see my mother, Lilith, sitting at her ease on the pile of rubble that was all she’d left of the Time Tower. In her large colourless hands she held a severed human head. Its face had been ripped away, leaving only a bloody mess, but that didn’t seem to bother her. She was pulling out the teeth, one at a time and tossing them aside. And all the time her black mouth was moving silently, saying He loves me, he loves me not… She looked up abruptly and stared right into my eyes. She smiled brightly and rose to her feet, casually throwing the head to one side.
“John, darling! My most treasured son…”
“Don’t move any closer,” I said. “I’m armed. I have the Speaking Gun.”
“Of course you have, sweetie. That’s why I’m here.”
She walked towards me. I held the black box up where she could see it, and she stopped just out of reach. She was calm, collected, utterly at her ease, and a slow anger burned within me. I gestured roughly at the bodies, at the wrecked buildings, at the War still going on in the distance.
“How could you do all this?”
She shrugged easily. “It’s mine. I made it. I’ll do what I want with it.”
“Where are your children?” I said. “All your monstrous offspring? Where are your precious followers, your madmen and murderers?”
“Keeping themselves busy. I don’t need them here. I thought it was time you and I had a nice little chat, in private.”
I frowned, as something else occurred to me. “How did you know to find me here? Even I didn’t know I was going to be here.”
She nodded at the flat black case in my hands. “The Speaking Gun called to me. I always know where it is. It is flesh of my flesh, after all, and as such my child, every bit as much as you. It’s your brother, John, in every way that matters. Thank you for bringing it back to me. I have a use for it. Just as I have a use for you.”
I opened the black box, snatched out the Speaking Gun, and pointed it at Lilith. She didn’t flinch, or back away. I let the box fall to the ground as the Speaking Gun thrust its poisonous presence into my thoughts. It felt hot and sweaty in my hand, and burned like a fever in my mind, vicious and raging, like an attack dog tugging at its leash. It breathed wetly in my hand, wanting to be used. It needed to kill, to destroy, to tear down the whole world and everything that lived in it. The Speaking Gun hated, but it couldn’t operate without someone else to pull its trigger, and it hated that most of all. Its filthy thoughts wormed through my mind, stoking the anger and outrage it found there… but I had felt its corrupting nature before, and I fought it back. I hadn’t come this far to bow down to a spiteful machine.
And yet, even under its madness and its rage, I could feel the Speaking Gun yearning for my mother’s touch. It wanted to go to her and nestle in her hand, and do terrible, awful things for her. I gripped the Gun so tightly my whole hand ached, and never once took my gaze off Lilith. She laughed soundlessly at me, and took a step forward. I aimed the Speaking Gun carefully, and pulled the trigger.
And nothing happened.
I tried again and again, but the long canine tooth that served as the Speaking Gun’s trigger wouldn’t budge. I shook the Gun, and even hit it with my other hand, but it did no good. In my mind, I could hear it laughing.
“The Speaking Gun won’t work on me, John,” Lilith said calmly. “It will never operate against the wishes of its creator. Just a little safeguard I had built into it, back at the Beginning. It loves me, you know. It aches to serve me, and make me happy. Such a good son… Unlike you. Give me the Gun, John. It was never meant for you. And in my hands it will respeak your most secret name and remake you into the respectful, obedient son I always intended you to be.”
She held out her hand, and the Speaking Gun jerked in my grasp, as though desperate to go to the one who would let it do what it had always wanted to do.
I couldn’t let her take the Gun. So I raised my gift, and forced it to find the one way in which the Speaking Gun could be destroyed. The answer was simple: by making it speak its own secret name backwards, and uncreate itself. My gift fought me, and the Gun fought me, but I had come a long way in the past few years, down a long hard road, perhaps to prepare me for moments like this. I bent all my will and all of my soul against the gift and the Gun, beating them down step by step and inch by inch, until finally the Speaking Gun choked out a single awful sound, then howled in despair as its very existence was reversed and undone. Uncreated.
My hand was suddenly empty, and I staggered and almost fell, wiped out by such a tremendous effort. I felt as though I’d just lifted a mountain with my bare hands, and turned it over on its side. Lilith grunted suddenly with surprise, and clapped one hand to her bare side. I studied her warily, but she just smiled back at me.
“Why thank you, John. For returning my flesh and bone to me. I’d forgotten how much I missed that rib till I had it back again. You always give your mother the best presents.”
“The Speaking Gun is gone,” I said. “You can’t remake me without it, which means you can’t remake the Nightside. So, it’s over. Your precious scheme is dead in the water. Stand down your armies. This isn’t your Nightside any more. You don’t belong here. Just… go away, and leave us alone.”
But she was already smiling and shaking her head. “You always did think too small, John. The Speaking Gun was never that important to me. It was just there to make things easier for you. It would have been a more… merciful method, that’s all. Now I’ll just have to do it the hard way. And don’t you dare cry. You brought this on yourself. The Speaking Gun was never intended to be my main weapon against the Nightside, John. That was, and is, you. That is why I gave birth to you, after all.”
“What?” I said. My mind was numb, from too many reverses. “I don’t understand…”
“Of course you don’t. I arranged for you to inherit one particular gift from me, John, so I could make use of it when the time was right. I will make you do what you were born to do. I will make you use your gift to find for me the perfect form of the Nightside, the original uncontaminated model that I always intended it to be, and when you’ve found that for me I will enforce that version on all the world.”
“I won’t do it,” I said. I tried to look away from her, from her deep dark eyes, and couldn’t. “I won’t do that!”
“You don’t have any choice, sweetie. I decided your fate before you were even born, working on you while you were still forming in my womb. All through the first few years of your childhood, I built a geas deep within your mind, so I’d be able to use it in this place, on this day. A geas to bend your will to mine. That’s why you’ve never been able to remember your early years with me. It became necessary for me to leave the dear bosom of my family before I was quite finished with you, but there’s enough there to do the job. I can see it, squirming deep in your mind, wrapped around your soul.”
“You do love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?” I said. Never let them see they’ve got you rattled… “Why didn’t my gift tell me any of this, when I questioned it earlier?”
“Because it’s not your gift, it’s mine. I gave it to you, to do my will.” She pirouetted slowly, arms outstretched, mistress of all she surveyed, smiling like a cat with a small bird in its jaws. “Time to redecorate, I think. The old place has become terribly infested. I will spread my Nightside across all the Earth, freeing it from the influence of Heaven and Hell. I’ll steal the world away from both those Tyrants, and make the Earth my playground, for all time. And everything that lives on it, including Humanity, that bothersome breed, will be swept aside and replaced with something more to my liking. Including you, my dearest boy. You’ll be so much happier when I’ve remade you in my own true image. You will kneel at my feet and sing my praises through all eternity. Won’t that be nice? A mother and her son, together, forever.”
And I had just destroyed the Speaking Gun, the only weapon that might have stopped her.
Unless… the last time I went face-to-face with Lilith, long and long ago, back at the very creation of the Nightside, I’d found a way to hurt and weaken her. I grinned nastily, inside. I’m John Taylor. I always have one more trick up my sleeve. I fired up my gift, driving it ruthlessly with the last of my will, and used it to find the link between my mother and me. The physical, mental, and magical connections between a mother and her only son. A trick I’d used before, to drain the life energy right out of her.
But when I reached out through the link, she was right there waiting for me. Her will slammed through the link, slapping me aside, monstrously strong and utterly overpowering. I cried out and fell to my knees as she drained the life energy out of me, despite everything I could do to stop her. She smiled down at me.
“You didn’t really expect to catch me with the same trick twice, did you? Not when I’ve had so many years to think about this day, this moment, planning it all down to the very last detail… Poor boy. This isn’t your story, John; it’s mine. Time to start your makeover, I think. And then what fun we’ll have, tearing down everything you ever believed in. Open wide and say aaah!, John. It’ll only hurt for a moment…”
I couldn’t help thinking of the devastated future Nightside I’d seen so many times. The dead lands, the broken world, and all because of me. A future that insisted on edging nearer, no matter how hard I worked to push it away, becoming more real, more imminent, detail by detail. Maybe some futures are inevitable, after all.
I slowly became aware of a soft, repetitive sound, and I looked round to see my mother, Lilith, sitting at her ease on the pile of rubble that was all she’d left of the Time Tower. In her large colourless hands she held a severed human head. Its face had been ripped away, leaving only a bloody mess, but that didn’t seem to bother her. She was pulling out the teeth, one at a time and tossing them aside. And all the time her black mouth was moving silently, saying He loves me, he loves me not… She looked up abruptly and stared right into my eyes. She smiled brightly and rose to her feet, casually throwing the head to one side.
“John, darling! My most treasured son…”
“Don’t move any closer,” I said. “I’m armed. I have the Speaking Gun.”
“Of course you have, sweetie. That’s why I’m here.”
She walked towards me. I held the black box up where she could see it, and she stopped just out of reach. She was calm, collected, utterly at her ease, and a slow anger burned within me. I gestured roughly at the bodies, at the wrecked buildings, at the War still going on in the distance.
“How could you do all this?”
She shrugged easily. “It’s mine. I made it. I’ll do what I want with it.”
“Where are your children?” I said. “All your monstrous offspring? Where are your precious followers, your madmen and murderers?”
“Keeping themselves busy. I don’t need them here. I thought it was time you and I had a nice little chat, in private.”
I frowned, as something else occurred to me. “How did you know to find me here? Even I didn’t know I was going to be here.”
She nodded at the flat black case in my hands. “The Speaking Gun called to me. I always know where it is. It is flesh of my flesh, after all, and as such my child, every bit as much as you. It’s your brother, John, in every way that matters. Thank you for bringing it back to me. I have a use for it. Just as I have a use for you.”
I opened the black box, snatched out the Speaking Gun, and pointed it at Lilith. She didn’t flinch, or back away. I let the box fall to the ground as the Speaking Gun thrust its poisonous presence into my thoughts. It felt hot and sweaty in my hand, and burned like a fever in my mind, vicious and raging, like an attack dog tugging at its leash. It breathed wetly in my hand, wanting to be used. It needed to kill, to destroy, to tear down the whole world and everything that lived in it. The Speaking Gun hated, but it couldn’t operate without someone else to pull its trigger, and it hated that most of all. Its filthy thoughts wormed through my mind, stoking the anger and outrage it found there… but I had felt its corrupting nature before, and I fought it back. I hadn’t come this far to bow down to a spiteful machine.
And yet, even under its madness and its rage, I could feel the Speaking Gun yearning for my mother’s touch. It wanted to go to her and nestle in her hand, and do terrible, awful things for her. I gripped the Gun so tightly my whole hand ached, and never once took my gaze off Lilith. She laughed soundlessly at me, and took a step forward. I aimed the Speaking Gun carefully, and pulled the trigger.
And nothing happened.
I tried again and again, but the long canine tooth that served as the Speaking Gun’s trigger wouldn’t budge. I shook the Gun, and even hit it with my other hand, but it did no good. In my mind, I could hear it laughing.
“The Speaking Gun won’t work on me, John,” Lilith said calmly. “It will never operate against the wishes of its creator. Just a little safeguard I had built into it, back at the Beginning. It loves me, you know. It aches to serve me, and make me happy. Such a good son… Unlike you. Give me the Gun, John. It was never meant for you. And in my hands it will respeak your most secret name and remake you into the respectful, obedient son I always intended you to be.”
She held out her hand, and the Speaking Gun jerked in my grasp, as though desperate to go to the one who would let it do what it had always wanted to do.
I couldn’t let her take the Gun. So I raised my gift, and forced it to find the one way in which the Speaking Gun could be destroyed. The answer was simple: by making it speak its own secret name backwards, and uncreate itself. My gift fought me, and the Gun fought me, but I had come a long way in the past few years, down a long hard road, perhaps to prepare me for moments like this. I bent all my will and all of my soul against the gift and the Gun, beating them down step by step and inch by inch, until finally the Speaking Gun choked out a single awful sound, then howled in despair as its very existence was reversed and undone. Uncreated.
My hand was suddenly empty, and I staggered and almost fell, wiped out by such a tremendous effort. I felt as though I’d just lifted a mountain with my bare hands, and turned it over on its side. Lilith grunted suddenly with surprise, and clapped one hand to her bare side. I studied her warily, but she just smiled back at me.
“Why thank you, John. For returning my flesh and bone to me. I’d forgotten how much I missed that rib till I had it back again. You always give your mother the best presents.”
“The Speaking Gun is gone,” I said. “You can’t remake me without it, which means you can’t remake the Nightside. So, it’s over. Your precious scheme is dead in the water. Stand down your armies. This isn’t your Nightside any more. You don’t belong here. Just… go away, and leave us alone.”
But she was already smiling and shaking her head. “You always did think too small, John. The Speaking Gun was never that important to me. It was just there to make things easier for you. It would have been a more… merciful method, that’s all. Now I’ll just have to do it the hard way. And don’t you dare cry. You brought this on yourself. The Speaking Gun was never intended to be my main weapon against the Nightside, John. That was, and is, you. That is why I gave birth to you, after all.”
“What?” I said. My mind was numb, from too many reverses. “I don’t understand…”
“Of course you don’t. I arranged for you to inherit one particular gift from me, John, so I could make use of it when the time was right. I will make you do what you were born to do. I will make you use your gift to find for me the perfect form of the Nightside, the original uncontaminated model that I always intended it to be, and when you’ve found that for me I will enforce that version on all the world.”
“I won’t do it,” I said. I tried to look away from her, from her deep dark eyes, and couldn’t. “I won’t do that!”
“You don’t have any choice, sweetie. I decided your fate before you were even born, working on you while you were still forming in my womb. All through the first few years of your childhood, I built a geas deep within your mind, so I’d be able to use it in this place, on this day. A geas to bend your will to mine. That’s why you’ve never been able to remember your early years with me. It became necessary for me to leave the dear bosom of my family before I was quite finished with you, but there’s enough there to do the job. I can see it, squirming deep in your mind, wrapped around your soul.”
“You do love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?” I said. Never let them see they’ve got you rattled… “Why didn’t my gift tell me any of this, when I questioned it earlier?”
“Because it’s not your gift, it’s mine. I gave it to you, to do my will.” She pirouetted slowly, arms outstretched, mistress of all she surveyed, smiling like a cat with a small bird in its jaws. “Time to redecorate, I think. The old place has become terribly infested. I will spread my Nightside across all the Earth, freeing it from the influence of Heaven and Hell. I’ll steal the world away from both those Tyrants, and make the Earth my playground, for all time. And everything that lives on it, including Humanity, that bothersome breed, will be swept aside and replaced with something more to my liking. Including you, my dearest boy. You’ll be so much happier when I’ve remade you in my own true image. You will kneel at my feet and sing my praises through all eternity. Won’t that be nice? A mother and her son, together, forever.”
And I had just destroyed the Speaking Gun, the only weapon that might have stopped her.
Unless… the last time I went face-to-face with Lilith, long and long ago, back at the very creation of the Nightside, I’d found a way to hurt and weaken her. I grinned nastily, inside. I’m John Taylor. I always have one more trick up my sleeve. I fired up my gift, driving it ruthlessly with the last of my will, and used it to find the link between my mother and me. The physical, mental, and magical connections between a mother and her only son. A trick I’d used before, to drain the life energy right out of her.
But when I reached out through the link, she was right there waiting for me. Her will slammed through the link, slapping me aside, monstrously strong and utterly overpowering. I cried out and fell to my knees as she drained the life energy out of me, despite everything I could do to stop her. She smiled down at me.
“You didn’t really expect to catch me with the same trick twice, did you? Not when I’ve had so many years to think about this day, this moment, planning it all down to the very last detail… Poor boy. This isn’t your story, John; it’s mine. Time to start your makeover, I think. And then what fun we’ll have, tearing down everything you ever believed in. Open wide and say aaah!, John. It’ll only hurt for a moment…”
Fourteen -
The Things We Sacrifice, for Love
Time slowed, cranking down to a crawl. The hand Lilith was extending towards me ground to a halt, inches short of my face. Her voice became a long growl and then cut off abruptly as the Collector appeared out of nowhere, in an improbable device. Trust him to bring Time itself to a stop, just so he could make an entrance. The Collector, con man, thief, and snapper up of anything collectible that wasn’t actually nailed down or guarded by enraged wolverines. An old acquaintance of mine, but not what you could call a friend. I don’t think the Collector had friends any more. They got in the way of his collecting. A portly middle-aged man with a florid face, the Collector was currently wearing a stylish dark blue blazer with white piping, and a large badge on his lapel bearing the number six. He was crouching inside a strange contraption that hovered uncomfortably close above my head. It looked like an overcomplicated climbing frame, made up of long quartz-and-crystal rods that sparked and shimmered against the night sky. The whole framework couldn’t have been more than ten feet wide, but there was something more to it, as though it extended away in more than just the usual three dimensions. The air was thick with the smell of discharging ozone.
The Collector reached down out of his contraption and grabbed the collar of my trench coat. He hauled me up into the framework with him, and immediately I could move again. I grabbed at the nearest rods to steady myself, and they squirmed unpleasantly in my grasp as though they weren’t fully there. I wasn’t entirely sure whether I might have been dragged out of the frying pan and into the fire. The Collector has always been famous for not being on any side but his own. Below us, Lilith was slowly turning her head to look in our direction.
“Shit,” said the Collector, “the field’s collapsing. Brace yourself, Taylor, we are out of here!”
He wrapped both his plump hands around a control like a fragmented crystal flower, and the whole structure tilted sideways through space. Time Tower Square disappeared abruptly as we spun round and round, dimensions of space snapping in and out of focus. I tried closing my eyes, but it didn’t help. I was sensing the movement on some basic spiritual level, and my stomach really hated it. I clung desperately to the crystal rods, which seemed to be deliberately trying to slip out of my grasp. I could still hear Lilith’s voice, screaming No… in a howl that seemed to go on forever. The crystal contraption actually buckled under the force of her rage, and solid crystal rods cracked and shattered. The Collector fussed over his controls, swearing and blaspheming, and suddenly the whole device crashed to a halt, and I fell out of it into Strangefellows bar.
I sat there for a long moment, enjoying the solid support of a floor that stayed still, then I hauled myself painfully slowly to my feet. I don’t know when I’ve ever felt so tired. I looked across at the Collector, who was walking round and round his crystal contraption and cursing loudly as bits fell off it. He actually chattered with rage and kicked spitefully at the pieces on the floor.
“Bloody thing! I’ll never get another one like this! Not after the extra security they’ve installed since my last visit… This trip had better have been worth it, Henry!”
Walker strolled over to pat him soothingly on the shoulder. “Leave strategy to me, Mark. You know I’ve always been the devious one. You never did explain. What is this thing, exactly?”
“Well, originally it was a four-dimensional climbing frame for really gifted children in the thirtieth century. I acquired it when no-one was looking, and adapted it for interdimensional travel. Not as accurate as some of my other Time travel mechanisms, but just basically weird enough to sneak in and catch Lilith by surprise. And now look at it! I’d better get compensation for this, Henry.”
“I’ll see you’re provided with the correct forms,” Walker said briskly. “And how are we, Taylor?”
“We feel like shit,” I said, collapsing into the nearest chair. “Why did you send that creep to rescue me?”
“Because you were obviously incapable of rescuing yourself, you ungrateful little turd!” snapped the Collector. “We watched you talking with Lilith through one of Merlin’s visions, once he detected your reappearance, and a right balls up you were making of it. So Henry sent me in as the cavalry. And if you’re wondering why someone of my good sense has joined this doomed resistance, reluctantly and very much against my better judgement, I can only put it down to emotional blackmail.”
“I simply pointed out that if Lilith has her way with the Nightside, there will be nothing left to collect,” said Walker.
“Bloody vandal!” said the Collector. “I haven’t spent the best part of my life putting together the greatest collection of treasures and wonders in this or any other universe, just so the Great White Bitch can wipe it all out. Women never appreciate the true value of collectibles…”
“I knew you’d come, if I asked,” said Walker. “What are old friends for?”
The Collector looked at him coldly. “Don’t push it, Henry. We haven’t been friends for over twenty years, and you know it. You’ve been doing your best to have me arrested, ever since that unfortunate incident over the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral. Hell, I haven’t seen you in the flesh since Charles’s funeral.” He looked at me, then back at Walker. His voice softened, just a little. “You’ve got old, Henry. Respectable.”
“You got fat.”
I left them to their somewhat prickly reunion, forced myself up out of my chair, and stumbled over to the bar. Lilith had taken a lot out of me. Alex was in his usual place behind the bar and actually had a large wormwood brandy waiting for me. He’d put a little umbrella in it, just because he knew I hated them. He didn’t want me to think he was getting soft. I threw the umbrella away, took a long drink, and nodded gratefully to him. He nodded back. We’ve never been very demonstrative.
“Did any of my people make it back here?” I said finally.
“Only me,” said Suzie Shooter.
I turned around, and there she was. Shotgun Suzie, her black leathers almost falling apart from tears and slashes, and soaked with dried blood. Her bandoliers were empty of bullets, and all the grenades were gone from her belt. Even her shotgun was missing from its holster on her back. She half sat, half collapsed onto the bar stool beside me, and Alex put a bottle of gin in front of her. I was too tired to do more than smile at her, to show how glad I was to see her still alive, and she nodded in return.
“You should have seen the shape she was in, when she came back without you,” said Alex. “Took three of my best repair spells to put her back together again. I put them on your tab, Taylor. Though given the way things are going, maybe you should settle up now, while there’s still time.”
“I broke my shotgun,” said Suzie, ignoring Alex with the ease of long practice. “Had to use it as a club when I ran out of ammo. And I left my best stiletto in some bastard’s eye. All my weapons are gone. I feel naked.”
“How did you make it back here, through all those mobs?” I asked.
“A variety of blunt instruments and a whole lot of bad temper,” said Suzie.
“Have you seen any of the others?”
“No,” said Suzie, staring at her bottle of gin without touching it. “But Dead Boy was dead to begin with, and Razor Eddie’s a god. I wouldn’t be surprised to see either of them stroll back in here, eventually.”
“But not Tommy Oblivion,” I said.
“No. His brother Larry went out to look for him, as soon as he heard what happened. No-one’s heard anything from him since.”
“Julien Advent is out and about,” said Alex. “Supposedly pulling Walker’s remaining people together into an army, for one last desperate assault on Lilith’s forces.”
“No!” I said. I pushed myself away from the bar, and stalked over to confront Walker. He deliberately ignored me, continuing his talk with the Collector, so I grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him around. I don’t know which of us was more surprised. It had been a long time since anyone had dared treat Walker like that. “You can’t fight Lilith’s army with an army of your own,” I said, as forcefully as I could. “You’ll destroy the Nightside, fighting over it. Nobody wins. I’ve seen it.”
“You’re sure of this?” said Walker.
“Oh yes. I’ve talked to people in the future, people who lived through it. They were the only ones left. You’d know some of the names if I said them, but trust me on this, Walker, you really don’t want to know. Believe me, you can’t win this with an army.”
“Then what do you suggest?” said Walker, and I swear his voice was just as calm and courteous and civilised as ever, even though I’d just kicked away his last hope. “What else can we do, except fight?”
“You have to do something,” said Merlin, his voice just a harsh rasp. “And you’d better do it soon. My defences are under constant attack. I don’t know how much longer I can maintain them.”
I looked round. I’d actually overlooked the ancient sorcerer, sitting slumped and alone at a table in the corner. He looked very old and very tired, even for a fifteen-hundred-year-old corpse. His grey face was slack, the crimson flames barely stirring in his empty eye-sockets.
“Keeping Lilith out, holding her off, is taking everything I’ve got,” Merlin said, not even looking at me. “It’s draining me dry, Taylor. I need my heart. There’s still time. Find my stolen heart for me, bring it here, and put it back in my chest, and I could be a Power again. I could bring myself back to life, wrap myself in glory, and go out to face Lilith head to head.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “You are Satan’s only begotten son, born to be the Antichrist. I won’t risk loosing that on the Nightside.”
“That’s right, blame me for my family background! You of all people should know that we aren’t always our parent’s children. Do you want me to beg, Taylor? Then I’ll beg! Not for me, but for the Nightside. For all of us.”
“I can’t do it,” I said. “I know where your heart is. And there’s no way I can get it for you.”
“Then we’re all dead,” said Merlin. “Dead and damned.”
“Look, if he can’t protect me, then I’m getting the hell out of here,” said the Collector. “Come on, Henry, I only agreed to come here because you assured me this bar was safer than any of my bolt-holes. I only agreed to rescue Taylor because you said he was vital to our survival.”
“Shut the hell up,” I said, feeling the anger build within me. “You don’t get to complain, Collector. Not when all of this is your fault anyway! You made possible the Babalon Working that brought Lilith back out of Limbo! You put my father together with my mother and made me possible!”
The Collector wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I was misled,” he said finally. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“Leave Mark alone,” said Walker, moving forward to stand beside the Collector. “We all thought we were doing the right thing, back then. Including your father. We never meant for any of this to happen… You’re looking at me strangely, John. What is it?”
“I’ve just had an idea,” I said. I could feel my smile spreading into a broad grin, and suddenly I didn’t feel tired any more. “I’m John Taylor, remember? I always have one more trick up my sleeve. And this one’s a beauty! There is a way to stop Lilith that doesn’t involve fighting. All we have to do is put together the three men who originally summoned Lilith through the Babalon Working, have them restart the spell, then reverse it, sending Lilith back into Limbo! The door you created with the Working is still open, isn’t it?”
“Well, yes,” said Walker. “We never got the chance to close it. By the time we realised the door hadn’t shut itself, the three of us had separated, determined never to work together again. It wasn’t as if the door mattered; it was only slightly ajar, undetectable except to the three of us. No-one else could use it. Lilith’s entrance had attuned it to her, and her only.”
“But the three of you working together could restart the magic,” I said. “Push the door all the way open, force Lilith through it, into Limbo, then close the door after her! It would work! Wouldn’t it?”
“Technically, yes,” said the Collector, frowning. “Though one of us would have to go through the door with Lilith, to make sure she couldn’t open it again from the other side, until we closed the doorway. And whoever went through… would be trapped with Lilith in Limbo, for all eternity. So you needn’t look at me. I have far too much to live for. And I never got on with her anyway, even when she was only Charles’s wife.”
“You never did understand about duty,” said Walker. “I’ll do it.”
“No,” I said. “I’ll go. You know it has to be me.”
“No it doesn’t!” said Suzie, almost savagely. “Why does it always have to be you, John? Haven’t you done enough?”
“This is all, unfortunately, quite irrelevant,” said Walker. “It’s a good plan, John, but there’s no way we can make it work. It took the three of us to establish the Babalon Working, and only the three of us could hope to restart it. And your father is dead, John.”
“Not any more,” I said. “Lilith raised the dead in the Necropolis graveyard, remember? Brought them all back to life and sent them out into the Nightside.” I could see the light of understanding dawning in everyone’s eyes. “He’s out there, somewhere. My father. Charles Taylor. And who’s better suited to find him than me?”
I forced my gift awake, and it showed me a vision of my returned father. He was doing research in the Prospero and Michael Scott Memorial Library, rooting through the ruins and collecting books from overturned stacks. He piled the books up on a desk, and searched desperately through each volume, looking for… something. I studied him for a while. He didn’t look much older than I was. In fact, he looked a lot like me. I took hold of Walker’s and the Collector’s hands, so they could see him, too.
“Typical Charles,” said the Collector, almost wistfully. “He never could abide taking orders from anyone. Including, it would seem, an ex-wife who brought him back from the dead. She should have known he’d go his own way.”
“I don’t think she knows about him,” said Walker. “She’s got other things on her mind, just now.”
“What’s he doing, burying himself in books when the world’s coming to and end?” said the Collector.
“Doing what he always does,” said Walker. “Research. He’s looking for answers.”
I looked back at Merlin. “Open a door for me, between here and there. I need to talk to my father.”
The dead sorcerer scowled at me. “If I remove my concentration from the bar’s defences, even for a moment, Lilith will know what’s happening here.”
“Let her,” I said. “All that matters now is getting these three old friends back together. So they can put right their old wrong.”
“God, you sound like your father sometimes,” said the Collector. “He could be a right pain in the arse on occasion, too.”
Merlin gestured angrily with an unsteady hand, and the Library vision became real as an opening appeared in space, linking the bar with the Library. My father was so immersed in his books he didn’t even notice. I stepped carefully through the opening into the Library and coughed meaningfully. My father scrambled up out of his chair and backed away from me, holding a heavy paperweight like a weapon. I slowly raised my hands, to show they were empty.
“Take it easy,” I said. “I’m not here to hurt you. I need your help.”
Charles Taylor studied me suspiciously, then put the paperweight down on the desk. “You look familiar. Do I know you?”
It hit me harder than I’d expected, to hear my father’s voice again after so many years. It made him real again, in a way just the sight of him hadn’t. I lowered my hands, and suddenly I didn’t know what to say. Too many things I wanted to tell him, needed to tell him, but I couldn’t find the words.
“How did you find me here?” he said. “You don’t have the look of one of Lilith’s creatures. Though I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere before… but it doesn’t matter. I can’t help you. You’ll have to leave. I’m very busy.”
“You know me,” I said. “Though it’s been a long time. I’m John. I’m your son, John.”
“My God,” he said, and he sat down suddenly on his chair, as though all the strength had gone out of his legs. “John… Look at you… All grown-up. You look… a lot like my father. Your grandfather. Of course, you never knew him…”
“You went away,” I said. I tried to keep the anger out of my voice, but that only made it sound even colder. “Abandoned me to my Enemies, when I was just a child. You left me alone when I needed you the most. You drank yourself to death rather than raise me. Why?”
Charles sighed heavily. He looked at his books, as though for answers, and then he made himself look back at me. “You have to understand… I’d been betrayed so many times: by friends I thought I could trust, by the woman I believed loved me. Your mother… was my last chance. To be a man again, to be sane again. To do good work, work that mattered. She was my life, my hope, my dreams. I never loved anyone like I loved her. When Pew told me the truth, showed me the hard evidence… I almost killed him. I went looking for her, but she was already gone. Just as well. I don’t know what I would have done… And you, John, you’d meant so much to me, and now I was afraid you were a lie, too. Because if I couldn’t depend on my wife to be my wife, if she wasn’t even human… how could I depend on you to be my son? I was afraid you’d turn out to be a monster, like your mother.”
“No,” I said. “I’m nothing like my mother.”
He smiled, and it was like a hand crushing my heart. I remembered that smile, from long ago, though I’d forgotten it till that moment.
“I’ve been reading about you, son. Reports of your old cases, in the Night Times. Quite the adventures, I gather. Helping people who couldn’t help themselves, solving mysteries, bringing down the bad guys… I also read some of the editorial pieces, by Julien Advent. The great Victorian Adventurer. He doesn’t seem too sure whether he approves of you, but he approves of what you achieved, and that’s good enough for me. You’ve made yourself the hero I always meant to be, but life got in the way…”
“It’s not too late,” I said. “There is a way you can stop Lilith. Come with me. Two old friends are waiting to greet you.”
He got up from his chair and stood before me. We were exactly the same height. Two men of roughly the same age, but with far more than our share of experience.
“There is a way?” he said. “Really?”
“I believe so.”
“Then let’s do it.” He put a hesitant hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry I let you down, son. Sorry… I wasn’t strong enough.”
“Everyone else let you down,” I said. “They all lied to you. Betrayed you. That stops now.”
“I read everything they had on you here,” said Charles Taylor. “You’ve done well, in my absence. I’m proud of you, son.”
“That’s all I ever wanted,” I said.
I think he would have hugged me then, but I wasn’t ready for that. I still had to be strong. I led the way back through the opening, into the bar, and he came through after me. Merlin immediately shut the opening down. My father looked around him.
“My God, it’s Strangefellows! Is this dump still going? Damn, I had some times here…”
“Yes, you did,” Walker said dryly. “Though I seem to recall I always ended up having to foot the bill. You were famous in those days for never having your wallet on you.”
My father turned round and looked at Walker, then at the Collector. He frowned, clearly uncertain, and then his face broke into a broad grin, and all three of them laughed. It was an open, happy laugh, blowing away all the old hurts and quarrels, and the three men fell on each other, clapping shoulders and backs with loud happy words. It was odd to see Charles Taylor looking so much younger than his contemporaries, but there was no denying how naturally they fit together. As though they belonged together, and always had. Eventually they stood back and studied each other.
“It’s good to have you back, Charles,” said Walker. “You’re looking good. Being dead clearly agreed with you.”
“I’ve missed you, Charles,” said the Collector. “I really have. No-one could hold their own in an argument like you. So; what was it like, being dead?”
“I really don’t remember,” said Charles. “Probably just as well. But look at you… both of you! Henry… what happened? You look so distinguished! And you always swore you’d rather die than be trapped in a suit and tie, like all the other city drones. Are you really part of the Establishment these days?”
“Hell,” said the Collector. “He is the Establishment.”
“And Mark… Ten out of ten for style, but when did you get so fat?”
“Now don’t you start,” said the Collector. “Do you like the blazer? I got it from this retired secret agent. I got his weird car, too, while he was looking for his blazer. You have got to see my collection, when all this is over. I’ve acquired more fabulous, junk and kitsch than any man living!”
“I always knew you had it in you, Mark,” my father said solemnly, and all three of them laughed.
“This is a new thing,” Merlin said quietly to me. “Unforeseen and unexpected. Who knows what might come of this?”
“You never foresaw what’s happening here?” I said.
“I don’t think anyone ever foresaw this, boy! So many disparate elements needed, so many unlikely happenstances, to bring these three together again, after so many years. And all because of you, John Taylor.”
“So,” I said. “We have a chance now?”
“Oh no,” said Merlin, turning away. “We’re all still going to die, or be destroyed, along with the rest of the Nightside.”
“The Babalon Working,” said Charles Taylor, and I immediately paid attention again. My father was frowning thoughtfully. “Our greatest achievement, and our greatest crime. Do we really dare start it up again?”
“Do we have time?” said Walker. “Back then, it took us days to get the ritual up and working properly, nearly destroying ourselves in the process. And we were a lot younger and stronger and better prepared, back then.”
“We don’t need to go through the whole ritual again,” the Collector said confidently. “You never did listen when I explained the theory of it, Henry. The magic is still operating in infraspace, because we never shut it down. It’s hanging there, suspended at the moment we were interrupted. That’s why the door we opened is still ajar. All we have to do is make contact with the magic again.”
“And that should be easy enough,” said Charles. “We’re the only three keys that fit that lock.”
“On the other hand,” said the Collector, “a lot could go wrong. It’s always dangerous, picking up an interrupted magic. We could all be killed.”
“Dying would be vastly more pleasant than what Lilith has in store for us,” said Walker.
“True,” said the Collector. “And I think… I’d like a chance to be the man I used to be, one last time. Let’s do it.”
In the end, there was no need for any chalk circles, no chanting or invoking of spirits; the three old friends simply closed their eyes and concentrated, and a powerful presence filled the whole bar, beating on the air. There was a feeling of something caught on the edge, struggling to be free, to be finished. And after more than thirty years the three old friends stepped effortlessly back into their old roles, meshing like the parts of a powerful engine that had forgotten just how much it could do. Raw magic sparked and flared on the air around them, and the Babalon Working was up and running again, as though they’d never been away.
But almost immediately another presence forced its way into the bar, slamming through Merlin’s defences. A door appeared in a wall where there had never been a door before, a ragged hole in the brickwork like a mouth or a wound, and stretched out beyond it was a narrow corridor, impossibly long. It led off in a direction I couldn’t identify, which had nothing to do with left and right, up and down, that my mind couldn’t deal with or accept, except simply as Outside. And down that awful corridor, slowly but inexorably, a single figure came walking. It was too far off in that unacceptable distance to see clearly, but I knew who it was, who it had to be. Lilith knew what we were up to, and she was coming to stop us.
Merlin came forward to stand before the corridor, staring down it and blocking the way. He looked… smaller, diminished. He raised his dead grey hands, already spotted with decay, and traced vivid shapes on the air, living sigils that spat and shimmered with discharging energies. He forced old and potent Words out of his ruined mouth, summoning up ancient forces and terrible creatures with the authority of his terrible name, but nothing happened. The Princes of Hell were more afraid of Lilith than they were of him. Merlin tried to open up interspatial trapdoors under Lilith’s feet, to drop her into some other, dangerous dimension, that she’d have to fight her way back from…but Lilith just walked right over them, as though they weren’t there. And perhaps for her, they weren’t. She was Lilith, imprinted on the material world by an effort of her own will, and he was only a dead sorcerer. Step by step she drew nearer, smiling her awful smile, despite everything Merlin could do to stop her, or even slow her down. And, finally, she stepped out into the bar, and the corridor disappeared behind her, the wall just a wall again.
“Hello, Merlin,” she said. “What a fuss you made. Anyone would think you weren’t glad to see me. And after I went out of my way to find a nice present to bring you.” She held up her left hand, and showed him a dark necrotic mass of muscle tissue. He knew what it was immediately, and made a sound as though he’d been hit. Lilith laughed prettily. “Yes, it’s your long-lost heart, little sorcerer. That’s what I’ve been doing all these years, since I had to give up being a wife and a mother. I knew I had to find your heart before you did, because you were the only one who might have stood a chance against me. If only you’d been whole. Merlin Satanspawn, born to be the Antichrist, but you didn’t have the nerve. By the way, I spoke with your father recently, and he’s still really mad at you.”
“Give me my heart,” said Merlin.
“It was very well hidden,” said Lilith. “You wouldn’t believe when and where I finally found it.”
“What do you want from me?” said Merlin.
“That’s more like it,” said Lilith, smiling on Merlin like a teacher with a slow pupil. “You can have your heart back, Merlin. All you have to do is bow down to me, kneel at my feet, and vow on your unholy name to worship me all your days.”
Merlin laughed abruptly, a flat ugly sound, and Lilith reacted as though he’d spat in her face. “Kneel to you?” said Merlin, and his voice was full of amused contempt. “I only ever knelt to one person. And you’re not fit to polish his armour.”
Lilith’s left hand convulsed, crushing the decaying heart into crimson-and-purple pulp. Merlin cried out once and collapsed, the magic that had sustained him for centuries torn away in a moment. He curled up in a ball on the floor, withering and falling in on himself as the flesh fell away from his old bones. The fires in his eyes went out. Lilith took a bite out of the crushed heart and chewed thoughtfully.
“Tasty,” she said. “Now die, fool, and go to the place appointed for you. Your daddy’s waiting.”
Merlin twitched and shuddered for a few moments more, but finally lay still, little more than a desiccated mummy. But I would swear that just before the end, I heard him say Arthur? So maybe he escaped his fate, after all. I’d like to think so.
Lilith looked unhurriedly about the bar. While I was still thinking what to do to distract her, and keep her from realising what three old acquaintances of hers were up to, Alex produced a pump-action shotgun from behind the bar, and handed it over to Suzie.
“Do something with this, Suzie. Avenge my ancestor. He might have been a pain in the arse, but he was family. The magazine holds silver bullets rubbed with garlic, napalm incendiaries spiked with holy water, and buckshot made from the ground-up bones of saints. Something in that mix ought to upset her. I find it works very well for crowd control on nights when the trivia quiz gets out of hand.”
“Why, Alex,” said Suzie, training the shotgun on Lilith, “I’m seeing you in a whole new light.”
She fired the shotgun at Lilith again and again, working the pump action incredibly fast, emptying the whole magazine. And Lilith just stood there and took it, entirely unaffected. Suzie lowered the gun, and Lilith shook a finger at her admonishingly. She turned away to look at the three men working their magic, so wrapped up in what they were doing they hadn’t even noticed her arrival. Lilith studied them for a moment, her head cocked on one side.
“What are you doing, you naughty boys? Some last desperate spell, to wish me away? It feels… familiar.” She broke off, her face suddenly blank. “Henry? And Mark, and… Charles. Well, well… Dear husband. I’d forgotten they buried you in the Necropolis graveyard. Stop this nonsense and look at me, Charles. And let me tell you what I have in mind for our special, gifted, ungrateful son.”
“Tell me,” I said. “If you dare.”
I strode right up to her, radiating poise and confidence and arrogance. I had to hold her attention, buy some time for the three to get their Working under control again. I glared right into Lilith’s face, and she smiled back at me.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” I said. “This is my ground, my territory, and I am so much more, here. You think you can compel me to do your will and find you the Nightside you want? Let’s see you try. Mommie Dearest.”
“How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is, to bear a stupid child,” said Lilith. “You will do whatever I want you to do, John. You don’t have a choice. I saw to that long ago. So let’s start with something simple. Make your mother happy, John. Kill your father.”
Her words went right to the geas she’d planted deep in my mind. And braced though I was, all my mental shields in place, I still shuddered and almost collapsed. Because her little time bomb was set inside my shields… But still I stood my ground, refusing to move, refusing even to look at my father. I could feel her will taking hold of my body, my mind, pressing down on me like an unbearable weight. My hands knotted into fists so tight they ached, and I wouldn’t, wouldn’t move. Except I already was, my head turning slowly to look at my father despite everything I could do to stop it, the geas burning in my thoughts like a gleeful traitor. And then, suddenly, I wasn’t alone in my head any more. Suzie was there, and Alex, adding the strength of their will to mine, holding me where I was.
Well, said Suzie. This is different. Stand your ground, John, the cavalry’s just arrived.
How? I said.
I do know a little magic, Alex said smugly. I am Merlin’s descendant, after all. How do you think I’ve been able to run this bloody place, all these years?
Shut up and concentrate, said Suzie.
So the three of us stood together, and we fought Lilith with all the strength of wills hardened by long lives of loss and hardship and adversity, honed by a refusal to give in to forces that should have broken us. Three old friends, closer now than ever, who cared more for each other than they’d ever been able to say. We stamped down the geas in my mind, breaking its hold over me through a concentrated effort of will, and it died screaming. Lilith’s will slammed against us openly, like an ocean storm battering a single rock, but we would not yield.
Even though it was killing us, by inches. We had to tap into our life energies to power the magic that held us together, and even our combined energies were nothing compared to the resources Lilith had to draw on. We felt our lives draining away, felt the darkness closing in around us, but not one of us wavered. Suzie and Alex could have withdrawn, saved themselves, but it never even occurred to them. I was so proud of them.
We couldn’t hope to hold Lilith off for long. We knew that. We were buying time, for three old friends to work their magic and open the door into Limbo. We were holding Lilith’s attention, so she wouldn’t understand what was happening until it was too late. She could have stopped them easily if she hadn’t been so determined to break my spirit. But still we three were dying, and we knew it, and we didn’t care. We were friends together, doing something that mattered, something we believed in. Perhaps for the first time in our lives we had no doubt we were doing the right thing, and that was worth dying for.
And then, finally, the Babalon Working manifested, and it was glorious indeed. Its presence saturated the whole bar, soaking into everything, making us all unbearably vivid and significant. Strange energies sleeted in from unfamiliar dimensions, as a door left ajar for so long finally swung wide open. I couldn’t see it, but its presence filled my mind, as though someone had pushed back the curtains to give me a glimpse of what lay behind the scenes of the world. Lilith howled with rage and horror as she finally realised what was happening, and tried to attack the three men responsible, but Suzie and Alex and I held her where she was with the last of our strength. Dying as we were, we held her there.
A great wind blew out of Limbo, through the open door, redolent of other realms, other places, then reversed itself, surging back in. It tugged at Lilith, and we let her go. Step by step, fighting it all the way, she was pulled towards the door. She stopped, right on the edge, and would go no further. Someone had to force her back through that door, and go with her into Limbo, to hold the door shut from the other side until the Babalon Working had been properly dismantled and shut down. And that had to be me. Because that was the only way I could be sure that never again would I ever threaten the safety of the Nightside. I swore an oath, to a dying future Razor Eddie, that I would rather die than see the Nightside destroyed because of me; and I meant every word.
But I never got the chance. My father broke away from his friends, grabbed his ex-wife by the shoulders, and sent the two of them hurtling through the open door into Limbo. The door swung shut; and, in the very last moment, my father looked back at me, and smiled.
“For you, John! For my son!”
Lilith’s final scream was cut short as the door to Limbo slammed shut. Without the three to maintain it, the Babalon Working collapsed, and Walker and the Collector quickly shut it down, forever. And that was that. All was still and quiet in Strangefellows. Walker and the Collector stood together exhausted, leaning on each other for support, looking older than their years. Suzie and Alex, no longer in my mind, came unsteadily forward to stand with me. I looked at the place where the door had been, and thought of my father and my mother, together again, for all eternity.
And the things we sacrifice, for love.
The Collector reached down out of his contraption and grabbed the collar of my trench coat. He hauled me up into the framework with him, and immediately I could move again. I grabbed at the nearest rods to steady myself, and they squirmed unpleasantly in my grasp as though they weren’t fully there. I wasn’t entirely sure whether I might have been dragged out of the frying pan and into the fire. The Collector has always been famous for not being on any side but his own. Below us, Lilith was slowly turning her head to look in our direction.
“Shit,” said the Collector, “the field’s collapsing. Brace yourself, Taylor, we are out of here!”
He wrapped both his plump hands around a control like a fragmented crystal flower, and the whole structure tilted sideways through space. Time Tower Square disappeared abruptly as we spun round and round, dimensions of space snapping in and out of focus. I tried closing my eyes, but it didn’t help. I was sensing the movement on some basic spiritual level, and my stomach really hated it. I clung desperately to the crystal rods, which seemed to be deliberately trying to slip out of my grasp. I could still hear Lilith’s voice, screaming No… in a howl that seemed to go on forever. The crystal contraption actually buckled under the force of her rage, and solid crystal rods cracked and shattered. The Collector fussed over his controls, swearing and blaspheming, and suddenly the whole device crashed to a halt, and I fell out of it into Strangefellows bar.
I sat there for a long moment, enjoying the solid support of a floor that stayed still, then I hauled myself painfully slowly to my feet. I don’t know when I’ve ever felt so tired. I looked across at the Collector, who was walking round and round his crystal contraption and cursing loudly as bits fell off it. He actually chattered with rage and kicked spitefully at the pieces on the floor.
“Bloody thing! I’ll never get another one like this! Not after the extra security they’ve installed since my last visit… This trip had better have been worth it, Henry!”
Walker strolled over to pat him soothingly on the shoulder. “Leave strategy to me, Mark. You know I’ve always been the devious one. You never did explain. What is this thing, exactly?”
“Well, originally it was a four-dimensional climbing frame for really gifted children in the thirtieth century. I acquired it when no-one was looking, and adapted it for interdimensional travel. Not as accurate as some of my other Time travel mechanisms, but just basically weird enough to sneak in and catch Lilith by surprise. And now look at it! I’d better get compensation for this, Henry.”
“I’ll see you’re provided with the correct forms,” Walker said briskly. “And how are we, Taylor?”
“We feel like shit,” I said, collapsing into the nearest chair. “Why did you send that creep to rescue me?”
“Because you were obviously incapable of rescuing yourself, you ungrateful little turd!” snapped the Collector. “We watched you talking with Lilith through one of Merlin’s visions, once he detected your reappearance, and a right balls up you were making of it. So Henry sent me in as the cavalry. And if you’re wondering why someone of my good sense has joined this doomed resistance, reluctantly and very much against my better judgement, I can only put it down to emotional blackmail.”
“I simply pointed out that if Lilith has her way with the Nightside, there will be nothing left to collect,” said Walker.
“Bloody vandal!” said the Collector. “I haven’t spent the best part of my life putting together the greatest collection of treasures and wonders in this or any other universe, just so the Great White Bitch can wipe it all out. Women never appreciate the true value of collectibles…”
“I knew you’d come, if I asked,” said Walker. “What are old friends for?”
The Collector looked at him coldly. “Don’t push it, Henry. We haven’t been friends for over twenty years, and you know it. You’ve been doing your best to have me arrested, ever since that unfortunate incident over the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral. Hell, I haven’t seen you in the flesh since Charles’s funeral.” He looked at me, then back at Walker. His voice softened, just a little. “You’ve got old, Henry. Respectable.”
“You got fat.”
I left them to their somewhat prickly reunion, forced myself up out of my chair, and stumbled over to the bar. Lilith had taken a lot out of me. Alex was in his usual place behind the bar and actually had a large wormwood brandy waiting for me. He’d put a little umbrella in it, just because he knew I hated them. He didn’t want me to think he was getting soft. I threw the umbrella away, took a long drink, and nodded gratefully to him. He nodded back. We’ve never been very demonstrative.
“Did any of my people make it back here?” I said finally.
“Only me,” said Suzie Shooter.
I turned around, and there she was. Shotgun Suzie, her black leathers almost falling apart from tears and slashes, and soaked with dried blood. Her bandoliers were empty of bullets, and all the grenades were gone from her belt. Even her shotgun was missing from its holster on her back. She half sat, half collapsed onto the bar stool beside me, and Alex put a bottle of gin in front of her. I was too tired to do more than smile at her, to show how glad I was to see her still alive, and she nodded in return.
“You should have seen the shape she was in, when she came back without you,” said Alex. “Took three of my best repair spells to put her back together again. I put them on your tab, Taylor. Though given the way things are going, maybe you should settle up now, while there’s still time.”
“I broke my shotgun,” said Suzie, ignoring Alex with the ease of long practice. “Had to use it as a club when I ran out of ammo. And I left my best stiletto in some bastard’s eye. All my weapons are gone. I feel naked.”
“How did you make it back here, through all those mobs?” I asked.
“A variety of blunt instruments and a whole lot of bad temper,” said Suzie.
“Have you seen any of the others?”
“No,” said Suzie, staring at her bottle of gin without touching it. “But Dead Boy was dead to begin with, and Razor Eddie’s a god. I wouldn’t be surprised to see either of them stroll back in here, eventually.”
“But not Tommy Oblivion,” I said.
“No. His brother Larry went out to look for him, as soon as he heard what happened. No-one’s heard anything from him since.”
“Julien Advent is out and about,” said Alex. “Supposedly pulling Walker’s remaining people together into an army, for one last desperate assault on Lilith’s forces.”
“No!” I said. I pushed myself away from the bar, and stalked over to confront Walker. He deliberately ignored me, continuing his talk with the Collector, so I grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him around. I don’t know which of us was more surprised. It had been a long time since anyone had dared treat Walker like that. “You can’t fight Lilith’s army with an army of your own,” I said, as forcefully as I could. “You’ll destroy the Nightside, fighting over it. Nobody wins. I’ve seen it.”
“You’re sure of this?” said Walker.
“Oh yes. I’ve talked to people in the future, people who lived through it. They were the only ones left. You’d know some of the names if I said them, but trust me on this, Walker, you really don’t want to know. Believe me, you can’t win this with an army.”
“Then what do you suggest?” said Walker, and I swear his voice was just as calm and courteous and civilised as ever, even though I’d just kicked away his last hope. “What else can we do, except fight?”
“You have to do something,” said Merlin, his voice just a harsh rasp. “And you’d better do it soon. My defences are under constant attack. I don’t know how much longer I can maintain them.”
I looked round. I’d actually overlooked the ancient sorcerer, sitting slumped and alone at a table in the corner. He looked very old and very tired, even for a fifteen-hundred-year-old corpse. His grey face was slack, the crimson flames barely stirring in his empty eye-sockets.
“Keeping Lilith out, holding her off, is taking everything I’ve got,” Merlin said, not even looking at me. “It’s draining me dry, Taylor. I need my heart. There’s still time. Find my stolen heart for me, bring it here, and put it back in my chest, and I could be a Power again. I could bring myself back to life, wrap myself in glory, and go out to face Lilith head to head.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “You are Satan’s only begotten son, born to be the Antichrist. I won’t risk loosing that on the Nightside.”
“That’s right, blame me for my family background! You of all people should know that we aren’t always our parent’s children. Do you want me to beg, Taylor? Then I’ll beg! Not for me, but for the Nightside. For all of us.”
“I can’t do it,” I said. “I know where your heart is. And there’s no way I can get it for you.”
“Then we’re all dead,” said Merlin. “Dead and damned.”
“Look, if he can’t protect me, then I’m getting the hell out of here,” said the Collector. “Come on, Henry, I only agreed to come here because you assured me this bar was safer than any of my bolt-holes. I only agreed to rescue Taylor because you said he was vital to our survival.”
“Shut the hell up,” I said, feeling the anger build within me. “You don’t get to complain, Collector. Not when all of this is your fault anyway! You made possible the Babalon Working that brought Lilith back out of Limbo! You put my father together with my mother and made me possible!”
The Collector wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I was misled,” he said finally. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“Leave Mark alone,” said Walker, moving forward to stand beside the Collector. “We all thought we were doing the right thing, back then. Including your father. We never meant for any of this to happen… You’re looking at me strangely, John. What is it?”
“I’ve just had an idea,” I said. I could feel my smile spreading into a broad grin, and suddenly I didn’t feel tired any more. “I’m John Taylor, remember? I always have one more trick up my sleeve. And this one’s a beauty! There is a way to stop Lilith that doesn’t involve fighting. All we have to do is put together the three men who originally summoned Lilith through the Babalon Working, have them restart the spell, then reverse it, sending Lilith back into Limbo! The door you created with the Working is still open, isn’t it?”
“Well, yes,” said Walker. “We never got the chance to close it. By the time we realised the door hadn’t shut itself, the three of us had separated, determined never to work together again. It wasn’t as if the door mattered; it was only slightly ajar, undetectable except to the three of us. No-one else could use it. Lilith’s entrance had attuned it to her, and her only.”
“But the three of you working together could restart the magic,” I said. “Push the door all the way open, force Lilith through it, into Limbo, then close the door after her! It would work! Wouldn’t it?”
“Technically, yes,” said the Collector, frowning. “Though one of us would have to go through the door with Lilith, to make sure she couldn’t open it again from the other side, until we closed the doorway. And whoever went through… would be trapped with Lilith in Limbo, for all eternity. So you needn’t look at me. I have far too much to live for. And I never got on with her anyway, even when she was only Charles’s wife.”
“You never did understand about duty,” said Walker. “I’ll do it.”
“No,” I said. “I’ll go. You know it has to be me.”
“No it doesn’t!” said Suzie, almost savagely. “Why does it always have to be you, John? Haven’t you done enough?”
“This is all, unfortunately, quite irrelevant,” said Walker. “It’s a good plan, John, but there’s no way we can make it work. It took the three of us to establish the Babalon Working, and only the three of us could hope to restart it. And your father is dead, John.”
“Not any more,” I said. “Lilith raised the dead in the Necropolis graveyard, remember? Brought them all back to life and sent them out into the Nightside.” I could see the light of understanding dawning in everyone’s eyes. “He’s out there, somewhere. My father. Charles Taylor. And who’s better suited to find him than me?”
I forced my gift awake, and it showed me a vision of my returned father. He was doing research in the Prospero and Michael Scott Memorial Library, rooting through the ruins and collecting books from overturned stacks. He piled the books up on a desk, and searched desperately through each volume, looking for… something. I studied him for a while. He didn’t look much older than I was. In fact, he looked a lot like me. I took hold of Walker’s and the Collector’s hands, so they could see him, too.
“Typical Charles,” said the Collector, almost wistfully. “He never could abide taking orders from anyone. Including, it would seem, an ex-wife who brought him back from the dead. She should have known he’d go his own way.”
“I don’t think she knows about him,” said Walker. “She’s got other things on her mind, just now.”
“What’s he doing, burying himself in books when the world’s coming to and end?” said the Collector.
“Doing what he always does,” said Walker. “Research. He’s looking for answers.”
I looked back at Merlin. “Open a door for me, between here and there. I need to talk to my father.”
The dead sorcerer scowled at me. “If I remove my concentration from the bar’s defences, even for a moment, Lilith will know what’s happening here.”
“Let her,” I said. “All that matters now is getting these three old friends back together. So they can put right their old wrong.”
“God, you sound like your father sometimes,” said the Collector. “He could be a right pain in the arse on occasion, too.”
Merlin gestured angrily with an unsteady hand, and the Library vision became real as an opening appeared in space, linking the bar with the Library. My father was so immersed in his books he didn’t even notice. I stepped carefully through the opening into the Library and coughed meaningfully. My father scrambled up out of his chair and backed away from me, holding a heavy paperweight like a weapon. I slowly raised my hands, to show they were empty.
“Take it easy,” I said. “I’m not here to hurt you. I need your help.”
Charles Taylor studied me suspiciously, then put the paperweight down on the desk. “You look familiar. Do I know you?”
It hit me harder than I’d expected, to hear my father’s voice again after so many years. It made him real again, in a way just the sight of him hadn’t. I lowered my hands, and suddenly I didn’t know what to say. Too many things I wanted to tell him, needed to tell him, but I couldn’t find the words.
“How did you find me here?” he said. “You don’t have the look of one of Lilith’s creatures. Though I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere before… but it doesn’t matter. I can’t help you. You’ll have to leave. I’m very busy.”
“You know me,” I said. “Though it’s been a long time. I’m John. I’m your son, John.”
“My God,” he said, and he sat down suddenly on his chair, as though all the strength had gone out of his legs. “John… Look at you… All grown-up. You look… a lot like my father. Your grandfather. Of course, you never knew him…”
“You went away,” I said. I tried to keep the anger out of my voice, but that only made it sound even colder. “Abandoned me to my Enemies, when I was just a child. You left me alone when I needed you the most. You drank yourself to death rather than raise me. Why?”
Charles sighed heavily. He looked at his books, as though for answers, and then he made himself look back at me. “You have to understand… I’d been betrayed so many times: by friends I thought I could trust, by the woman I believed loved me. Your mother… was my last chance. To be a man again, to be sane again. To do good work, work that mattered. She was my life, my hope, my dreams. I never loved anyone like I loved her. When Pew told me the truth, showed me the hard evidence… I almost killed him. I went looking for her, but she was already gone. Just as well. I don’t know what I would have done… And you, John, you’d meant so much to me, and now I was afraid you were a lie, too. Because if I couldn’t depend on my wife to be my wife, if she wasn’t even human… how could I depend on you to be my son? I was afraid you’d turn out to be a monster, like your mother.”
“No,” I said. “I’m nothing like my mother.”
He smiled, and it was like a hand crushing my heart. I remembered that smile, from long ago, though I’d forgotten it till that moment.
“I’ve been reading about you, son. Reports of your old cases, in the Night Times. Quite the adventures, I gather. Helping people who couldn’t help themselves, solving mysteries, bringing down the bad guys… I also read some of the editorial pieces, by Julien Advent. The great Victorian Adventurer. He doesn’t seem too sure whether he approves of you, but he approves of what you achieved, and that’s good enough for me. You’ve made yourself the hero I always meant to be, but life got in the way…”
“It’s not too late,” I said. “There is a way you can stop Lilith. Come with me. Two old friends are waiting to greet you.”
He got up from his chair and stood before me. We were exactly the same height. Two men of roughly the same age, but with far more than our share of experience.
“There is a way?” he said. “Really?”
“I believe so.”
“Then let’s do it.” He put a hesitant hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry I let you down, son. Sorry… I wasn’t strong enough.”
“Everyone else let you down,” I said. “They all lied to you. Betrayed you. That stops now.”
“I read everything they had on you here,” said Charles Taylor. “You’ve done well, in my absence. I’m proud of you, son.”
“That’s all I ever wanted,” I said.
I think he would have hugged me then, but I wasn’t ready for that. I still had to be strong. I led the way back through the opening, into the bar, and he came through after me. Merlin immediately shut the opening down. My father looked around him.
“My God, it’s Strangefellows! Is this dump still going? Damn, I had some times here…”
“Yes, you did,” Walker said dryly. “Though I seem to recall I always ended up having to foot the bill. You were famous in those days for never having your wallet on you.”
My father turned round and looked at Walker, then at the Collector. He frowned, clearly uncertain, and then his face broke into a broad grin, and all three of them laughed. It was an open, happy laugh, blowing away all the old hurts and quarrels, and the three men fell on each other, clapping shoulders and backs with loud happy words. It was odd to see Charles Taylor looking so much younger than his contemporaries, but there was no denying how naturally they fit together. As though they belonged together, and always had. Eventually they stood back and studied each other.
“It’s good to have you back, Charles,” said Walker. “You’re looking good. Being dead clearly agreed with you.”
“I’ve missed you, Charles,” said the Collector. “I really have. No-one could hold their own in an argument like you. So; what was it like, being dead?”
“I really don’t remember,” said Charles. “Probably just as well. But look at you… both of you! Henry… what happened? You look so distinguished! And you always swore you’d rather die than be trapped in a suit and tie, like all the other city drones. Are you really part of the Establishment these days?”
“Hell,” said the Collector. “He is the Establishment.”
“And Mark… Ten out of ten for style, but when did you get so fat?”
“Now don’t you start,” said the Collector. “Do you like the blazer? I got it from this retired secret agent. I got his weird car, too, while he was looking for his blazer. You have got to see my collection, when all this is over. I’ve acquired more fabulous, junk and kitsch than any man living!”
“I always knew you had it in you, Mark,” my father said solemnly, and all three of them laughed.
“This is a new thing,” Merlin said quietly to me. “Unforeseen and unexpected. Who knows what might come of this?”
“You never foresaw what’s happening here?” I said.
“I don’t think anyone ever foresaw this, boy! So many disparate elements needed, so many unlikely happenstances, to bring these three together again, after so many years. And all because of you, John Taylor.”
“So,” I said. “We have a chance now?”
“Oh no,” said Merlin, turning away. “We’re all still going to die, or be destroyed, along with the rest of the Nightside.”
“The Babalon Working,” said Charles Taylor, and I immediately paid attention again. My father was frowning thoughtfully. “Our greatest achievement, and our greatest crime. Do we really dare start it up again?”
“Do we have time?” said Walker. “Back then, it took us days to get the ritual up and working properly, nearly destroying ourselves in the process. And we were a lot younger and stronger and better prepared, back then.”
“We don’t need to go through the whole ritual again,” the Collector said confidently. “You never did listen when I explained the theory of it, Henry. The magic is still operating in infraspace, because we never shut it down. It’s hanging there, suspended at the moment we were interrupted. That’s why the door we opened is still ajar. All we have to do is make contact with the magic again.”
“And that should be easy enough,” said Charles. “We’re the only three keys that fit that lock.”
“On the other hand,” said the Collector, “a lot could go wrong. It’s always dangerous, picking up an interrupted magic. We could all be killed.”
“Dying would be vastly more pleasant than what Lilith has in store for us,” said Walker.
“True,” said the Collector. “And I think… I’d like a chance to be the man I used to be, one last time. Let’s do it.”
In the end, there was no need for any chalk circles, no chanting or invoking of spirits; the three old friends simply closed their eyes and concentrated, and a powerful presence filled the whole bar, beating on the air. There was a feeling of something caught on the edge, struggling to be free, to be finished. And after more than thirty years the three old friends stepped effortlessly back into their old roles, meshing like the parts of a powerful engine that had forgotten just how much it could do. Raw magic sparked and flared on the air around them, and the Babalon Working was up and running again, as though they’d never been away.
But almost immediately another presence forced its way into the bar, slamming through Merlin’s defences. A door appeared in a wall where there had never been a door before, a ragged hole in the brickwork like a mouth or a wound, and stretched out beyond it was a narrow corridor, impossibly long. It led off in a direction I couldn’t identify, which had nothing to do with left and right, up and down, that my mind couldn’t deal with or accept, except simply as Outside. And down that awful corridor, slowly but inexorably, a single figure came walking. It was too far off in that unacceptable distance to see clearly, but I knew who it was, who it had to be. Lilith knew what we were up to, and she was coming to stop us.
Merlin came forward to stand before the corridor, staring down it and blocking the way. He looked… smaller, diminished. He raised his dead grey hands, already spotted with decay, and traced vivid shapes on the air, living sigils that spat and shimmered with discharging energies. He forced old and potent Words out of his ruined mouth, summoning up ancient forces and terrible creatures with the authority of his terrible name, but nothing happened. The Princes of Hell were more afraid of Lilith than they were of him. Merlin tried to open up interspatial trapdoors under Lilith’s feet, to drop her into some other, dangerous dimension, that she’d have to fight her way back from…but Lilith just walked right over them, as though they weren’t there. And perhaps for her, they weren’t. She was Lilith, imprinted on the material world by an effort of her own will, and he was only a dead sorcerer. Step by step she drew nearer, smiling her awful smile, despite everything Merlin could do to stop her, or even slow her down. And, finally, she stepped out into the bar, and the corridor disappeared behind her, the wall just a wall again.
“Hello, Merlin,” she said. “What a fuss you made. Anyone would think you weren’t glad to see me. And after I went out of my way to find a nice present to bring you.” She held up her left hand, and showed him a dark necrotic mass of muscle tissue. He knew what it was immediately, and made a sound as though he’d been hit. Lilith laughed prettily. “Yes, it’s your long-lost heart, little sorcerer. That’s what I’ve been doing all these years, since I had to give up being a wife and a mother. I knew I had to find your heart before you did, because you were the only one who might have stood a chance against me. If only you’d been whole. Merlin Satanspawn, born to be the Antichrist, but you didn’t have the nerve. By the way, I spoke with your father recently, and he’s still really mad at you.”
“Give me my heart,” said Merlin.
“It was very well hidden,” said Lilith. “You wouldn’t believe when and where I finally found it.”
“What do you want from me?” said Merlin.
“That’s more like it,” said Lilith, smiling on Merlin like a teacher with a slow pupil. “You can have your heart back, Merlin. All you have to do is bow down to me, kneel at my feet, and vow on your unholy name to worship me all your days.”
Merlin laughed abruptly, a flat ugly sound, and Lilith reacted as though he’d spat in her face. “Kneel to you?” said Merlin, and his voice was full of amused contempt. “I only ever knelt to one person. And you’re not fit to polish his armour.”
Lilith’s left hand convulsed, crushing the decaying heart into crimson-and-purple pulp. Merlin cried out once and collapsed, the magic that had sustained him for centuries torn away in a moment. He curled up in a ball on the floor, withering and falling in on himself as the flesh fell away from his old bones. The fires in his eyes went out. Lilith took a bite out of the crushed heart and chewed thoughtfully.
“Tasty,” she said. “Now die, fool, and go to the place appointed for you. Your daddy’s waiting.”
Merlin twitched and shuddered for a few moments more, but finally lay still, little more than a desiccated mummy. But I would swear that just before the end, I heard him say Arthur? So maybe he escaped his fate, after all. I’d like to think so.
Lilith looked unhurriedly about the bar. While I was still thinking what to do to distract her, and keep her from realising what three old acquaintances of hers were up to, Alex produced a pump-action shotgun from behind the bar, and handed it over to Suzie.
“Do something with this, Suzie. Avenge my ancestor. He might have been a pain in the arse, but he was family. The magazine holds silver bullets rubbed with garlic, napalm incendiaries spiked with holy water, and buckshot made from the ground-up bones of saints. Something in that mix ought to upset her. I find it works very well for crowd control on nights when the trivia quiz gets out of hand.”
“Why, Alex,” said Suzie, training the shotgun on Lilith, “I’m seeing you in a whole new light.”
She fired the shotgun at Lilith again and again, working the pump action incredibly fast, emptying the whole magazine. And Lilith just stood there and took it, entirely unaffected. Suzie lowered the gun, and Lilith shook a finger at her admonishingly. She turned away to look at the three men working their magic, so wrapped up in what they were doing they hadn’t even noticed her arrival. Lilith studied them for a moment, her head cocked on one side.
“What are you doing, you naughty boys? Some last desperate spell, to wish me away? It feels… familiar.” She broke off, her face suddenly blank. “Henry? And Mark, and… Charles. Well, well… Dear husband. I’d forgotten they buried you in the Necropolis graveyard. Stop this nonsense and look at me, Charles. And let me tell you what I have in mind for our special, gifted, ungrateful son.”
“Tell me,” I said. “If you dare.”
I strode right up to her, radiating poise and confidence and arrogance. I had to hold her attention, buy some time for the three to get their Working under control again. I glared right into Lilith’s face, and she smiled back at me.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” I said. “This is my ground, my territory, and I am so much more, here. You think you can compel me to do your will and find you the Nightside you want? Let’s see you try. Mommie Dearest.”
“How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is, to bear a stupid child,” said Lilith. “You will do whatever I want you to do, John. You don’t have a choice. I saw to that long ago. So let’s start with something simple. Make your mother happy, John. Kill your father.”
Her words went right to the geas she’d planted deep in my mind. And braced though I was, all my mental shields in place, I still shuddered and almost collapsed. Because her little time bomb was set inside my shields… But still I stood my ground, refusing to move, refusing even to look at my father. I could feel her will taking hold of my body, my mind, pressing down on me like an unbearable weight. My hands knotted into fists so tight they ached, and I wouldn’t, wouldn’t move. Except I already was, my head turning slowly to look at my father despite everything I could do to stop it, the geas burning in my thoughts like a gleeful traitor. And then, suddenly, I wasn’t alone in my head any more. Suzie was there, and Alex, adding the strength of their will to mine, holding me where I was.
Well, said Suzie. This is different. Stand your ground, John, the cavalry’s just arrived.
How? I said.
I do know a little magic, Alex said smugly. I am Merlin’s descendant, after all. How do you think I’ve been able to run this bloody place, all these years?
Shut up and concentrate, said Suzie.
So the three of us stood together, and we fought Lilith with all the strength of wills hardened by long lives of loss and hardship and adversity, honed by a refusal to give in to forces that should have broken us. Three old friends, closer now than ever, who cared more for each other than they’d ever been able to say. We stamped down the geas in my mind, breaking its hold over me through a concentrated effort of will, and it died screaming. Lilith’s will slammed against us openly, like an ocean storm battering a single rock, but we would not yield.
Even though it was killing us, by inches. We had to tap into our life energies to power the magic that held us together, and even our combined energies were nothing compared to the resources Lilith had to draw on. We felt our lives draining away, felt the darkness closing in around us, but not one of us wavered. Suzie and Alex could have withdrawn, saved themselves, but it never even occurred to them. I was so proud of them.
We couldn’t hope to hold Lilith off for long. We knew that. We were buying time, for three old friends to work their magic and open the door into Limbo. We were holding Lilith’s attention, so she wouldn’t understand what was happening until it was too late. She could have stopped them easily if she hadn’t been so determined to break my spirit. But still we three were dying, and we knew it, and we didn’t care. We were friends together, doing something that mattered, something we believed in. Perhaps for the first time in our lives we had no doubt we were doing the right thing, and that was worth dying for.
And then, finally, the Babalon Working manifested, and it was glorious indeed. Its presence saturated the whole bar, soaking into everything, making us all unbearably vivid and significant. Strange energies sleeted in from unfamiliar dimensions, as a door left ajar for so long finally swung wide open. I couldn’t see it, but its presence filled my mind, as though someone had pushed back the curtains to give me a glimpse of what lay behind the scenes of the world. Lilith howled with rage and horror as she finally realised what was happening, and tried to attack the three men responsible, but Suzie and Alex and I held her where she was with the last of our strength. Dying as we were, we held her there.
A great wind blew out of Limbo, through the open door, redolent of other realms, other places, then reversed itself, surging back in. It tugged at Lilith, and we let her go. Step by step, fighting it all the way, she was pulled towards the door. She stopped, right on the edge, and would go no further. Someone had to force her back through that door, and go with her into Limbo, to hold the door shut from the other side until the Babalon Working had been properly dismantled and shut down. And that had to be me. Because that was the only way I could be sure that never again would I ever threaten the safety of the Nightside. I swore an oath, to a dying future Razor Eddie, that I would rather die than see the Nightside destroyed because of me; and I meant every word.
But I never got the chance. My father broke away from his friends, grabbed his ex-wife by the shoulders, and sent the two of them hurtling through the open door into Limbo. The door swung shut; and, in the very last moment, my father looked back at me, and smiled.
“For you, John! For my son!”
Lilith’s final scream was cut short as the door to Limbo slammed shut. Without the three to maintain it, the Babalon Working collapsed, and Walker and the Collector quickly shut it down, forever. And that was that. All was still and quiet in Strangefellows. Walker and the Collector stood together exhausted, leaning on each other for support, looking older than their years. Suzie and Alex, no longer in my mind, came unsteadily forward to stand with me. I looked at the place where the door had been, and thought of my father and my mother, together again, for all eternity.
And the things we sacrifice, for love.
Epilogue
With Lilith gone, her army of followers soon broke up and turned on each other. They were quickly defeated and dispersed by Walker’s people, commanded by Julien Advent. Lilith’s surviving offspring, seeing which way the wind was blowing, quietly slunk back to the Street of the Gods. And as quickly and easily as that, the War for the Nightside was over.
With the Authorities dead and gone, Walker is in charge of the Nightside now. Inasmuch as anyone ever is. No-one’s seen the Collector since that night in the bar. He disappeared when no-one was looking, along with what was left of Merlin’s heart. Alex is back behind his bar. Suzie and I are talking about becoming partners in a detective agency. And about other things, too. One step at a time.
Many old friends and enemies are still missing, presumed dead.
The Nightside goes on. The terrible future I first saw in the Timeslip is now only another timetrack, no more likely or inevitable than any other glimpsed future. For the first time in a long time, the Nightside is free to make its own destiny.
And so am I.
With the Authorities dead and gone, Walker is in charge of the Nightside now. Inasmuch as anyone ever is. No-one’s seen the Collector since that night in the bar. He disappeared when no-one was looking, along with what was left of Merlin’s heart. Alex is back behind his bar. Suzie and I are talking about becoming partners in a detective agency. And about other things, too. One step at a time.
Many old friends and enemies are still missing, presumed dead.
The Nightside goes on. The terrible future I first saw in the Timeslip is now only another timetrack, no more likely or inevitable than any other glimpsed future. For the first time in a long time, the Nightside is free to make its own destiny.
And so am I.