Sharper Than a Serpent's Tooth

Sharper than a Serpent's Tooth

Nightside 6

Simon R. Green

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

SHARPER THAN A SERPENT'S TOOTH

An Ace Book / published by arrangement with the author

PRINTING HISTORY

Ace mass market edition / March 2006

Copyright © 2006 by Simon R. Green.

Cover art by Jonathan Barkat.

Cover design by Judith Murello.

ISBN: 0441-01387-2

ACE

Ace Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

375 Hudson Street , New York, New York 10014 .

ACE and the "A" design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Prologue

L
ondon holds an awful secret close to her heart, like a serpent to her bosom. The Nightside. A dark and corrupt place, a city within a city, where the sun has never shone and never will. In the Nightside you can find gods and monsters and spirits from the vasty deep, if they don't find you first. Pleasure and horror are always on sale, marked down and only slightly shop-soiled. I was born in the Nightside, some thirty years ago, and someone's been trying to kill me ever since.

My name is John Taylor, and I operate as a private investigator. I don't do divorce work, I don't solve mysteries, and I wouldn't know a clue if I fell over one. I find things, no matter how well hidden, though mostly what I seem to find is trouble. My father drank himself to death after discovering my missing mother wasn't human. The Authorities, those grey faceless men who run things in the Nightside, inasmuch as anyone does, see me as a dangerous rogue element. Mostly they're right. My clients see me as their last hope, while others see me as a King in waiting; and there are those who would risk anything to kill me because of a prophecy that one day I will destroy the Nightside, and the rest of the world with it.

Finally, after a trip through Time into past incarnations of the Nightside, I have discovered the truth. The Nightside had been created by my missing mother to be the one place on Earth free from the influence of Heaven or Hell. The only truly free place. Her own allies thrust her out of this reality and into Limbo, because they feared her so much. Now she's back, and threatening to remake the Nightside in her own terrible image. My mother, Lilith. Adam's first wife, thrown out of Eden for refusing to accept any authority. She descended into Hell and lay down with demons, and gave birth to all the monsters that have ever plagued this world. Or so they say.

Lilith . Mommie Dearest.

All I have to do now is figure out how to stop her, without destroying the Nightside and the whole damned world in the process…

One

Somewhere in the Night

S
trangefellows is said by many and considered by most to be the oldest bar in the world, and therefore has seen pretty much everything in its time. So when Suzie Shooter and I appeared suddenly out of nowhere, looking half-dead in blood-stained and tattered clothing, most of the bar's patrons didn't so much as raise an eyebrow, cosmopolitan bastards and general scumbags that they are. Suzie and I leaned heavily on the long, polished wooden bar and spent some time just getting our breath back. We'd been through a lot during our trip through the Past, including being possessed by angels to fight demons from the Pit, so I felt very strongly that we were entitled to a little time out. Alex Morrisey, Strangefellows' owner, bartender, and general miserable pain in the arse, stood behind the bar putting a lot of effort into cleaning a glass that didn't need cleaning, while he fixed us both with his familiar unwavering scowl.

"Why can't you walk through the door like normal people, Taylor?" he said finally. "You always have to make an entrance, don't you? And look at the state of you. Don't either of you dare drip blood over my nice, new, and very expensively cleaned floor. I haven't seen the natural colour of that floor in more years than I care to remember, and I'm trying to memorise it before it inevitably disappears again. I have got to get some new clientele. When I inherited this place I was promised a nice upmarket bar with a select and discreet group of regular drinkers."

"Alex," I said, "you couldn't drive this bar upmarket with an electric cattle prod and a branding iron. Now bring me many drinks, all in the same glass, and a bottle of the old mother's ruin for Suzie."

"Two," said Suzie Shooter. "And don't bother with a glass."

Alex looked at Suzie, and his expression changed abruptly. During our brief stop-off in Arthurian times, Suzie had lost the left side of her face. The flesh had been ripped and torn away; then seared together with fire. Her left eye was gone, the eyelid sealed shut. Suzie glared at Alex with her one remaining cold blue eye, daring him to say anything. Alex's face tried to show several things at once, then went blank. He gave Suzie his best professional bartender's polite nod and went to get us our drinks. Suzie had no time for pity or compassion, even from those she considered her friends. Perhaps especially from them.

But I knew there was more to it than that. Alex and I had seen that face before, on a future incarnation of Suzie, who'd travelled back through Time from a potential future to kill me, right here in this bar. I might have killed that Suzie. I wasn't sure. Alex came back with a large glass of wormwood brandy for me, and two bottles of gin for Suzie. He scowled disapprovingly as I gulped down the expensive liquor, and tried not to see Suzie sucking gin straight from the bottle like it was mother's milk.

"How long have we been gone?" I said finally.

Alex raised an eyebrow. "About five hours, since you and Tommy Oblivion left here with Eamonn Mitchell, that new client of yours."

"Ah," I said. "It's been a lot longer for us. Suzie and I have been Time travelling. Back into the various Pasts of the Nightside."

"I've got no sympathy for you," said Alex. "Don't you have enough problems in the here and now, without upsetting people in the Past? Who did you piss off this time? You look like you've both been through a meat grinder."

"That's nothing," said Suzie. "You should see the meat grinder."

She belched and farted, then went back to sucking on her bottle.

"I don't suppose you thought to bring me back a present?" said Alex.

"Of course not," I said. "I told you; we were in the Past, not the Present."

"You're so sharp you'll cut yourself one of these days," said Alex.

I persuaded Suzie to put down her gin bottle long enough to make use of the rechargeable clothing spell Alex always keeps at hand behind the counter. A few Words of Power followed by a couple of quick passes with an aboriginal pointing-bone, and our clothes were immediately clean and repaired. Our bodies remained battered and bloody and exhausted, but it was a start. The spell was standard equipment in all Nightside bars and hostelries, where the general joie de vivre could be very hard on the appearance. Suzie and I admired ourselves in the long mirror behind the bar.

I looked like myself again, if just a little more world-weary around the eyes. Tall, dark, and handsome in the right kind of light, wrapped in a long white trench coat. I like to think I look like someone you could trust, if not take home to meet the parents. Suzie Shooter, also known as Shotgun Suzie, and Oh Christ it's her, run! looked as cold and dangerous and downright scary as she always did. A tall blonde in her late twenties, but with a lot of mileage on the clock, standing stiff-backed and arrogant in black motorcycle leathers, lavishly adorned with steel chains and studs, a pump-action shotgun holstered on her back, and two bandoliers of bullets criss-crossing her substantial chest. Knee-length black leather boots with steel-capped toes completed the distressing picture. She had a strong-boned face, a mouth that rarely smiled, and a gaze older than the world. She'd shot me in the back once, but it was only a cry for attention.

(Alex was dressed all in black, as usual, even down to the designer shades and snazzy black beret perched on the back of his head to hide a spreading bald patch. He was in his late twenties but looked ten years older. Running a bar in the Nightside will do that to you.)

"So," said Suzie, returning to her gin bottle, "what do we do now, Taylor?"

"We put together an army," I said, "Of every Power and Being and major player in the whole damned Nightside, and turn them into a force I can throw at Lilith's throat. I'll use my gift to track down wherever she's hiding herself, and then… we do whatever we have to, to destroy her. Because that's all there is left, now."

"Even though she's your mother?"

"She was never my mother," I said. "Not in any way that mattered."

Suzie considered me thoughtfully. "Even with an army to back us up, we could still lay waste to most of the Nightside, fighting to bring her down."

"She'll destroy it anyway, if we don't do something. I've Seen what will happen if we don't stop her, and anything would be better than that."

I didn't look at her scarred face. I didn't think of her half-dead, half-mad, come back through Time to kill me, with the awful Speaking Gun grafted where her right forearm should have been.

"What if the others don't want to get involved?"

"I'll make them want to."

"And end up just like your mother?"

I sighed, and looked into my empty glass. "I'm tired, Suzie. I want… I need for this to be over."

"It should be one hell of a battle." Shotgun Suzie ran one thumb caressingly over her bandoliers of bullets. "I can't wait."

I smiled at her fondly. "I'll bet you even take that shotgun to bed with you, don't you?"

She looked at me with her cold, calm expression. "Someday, you just might find out. My love."

She blew me a kiss, then returned all her attention to her bottle of gin. Alex looked at me with a mixture of awe, horror, and utter astonishment, and seized the opportunity for a quiet chat while Suzie was preoccupied. He pulled me aside and lowered his voice to a whisper.

"Did I just hear right, John? My love? Am I to take it you and the psycho bounty hunter from Hell are now an item?"

"Looks like it," I said. "I'm as shocked and surprised as you are. Maybe I should have checked the wording in my Personals Ad more carefully."

"But… Suzie? I mean, ten out of ten for courage, yes, but… she's crazy!"

I had to smile. "You think anyone sane would hook up with me?"

Alex considered the matter. "Well, there is that, yes. Good point. But John… her face…"

"I know," I said quietly. "It happened in the Past. There was nothing I could do."

"John, she's one step closer to becoming the future Suzie who tried to kill you. Shouldn't we tell her about that?"

"I already know," said Suzie. I hadn't heard her approach, and from the way Alex jumped, he hadn't either.

She was gracious enough not to smile. "I've known for some time. You can't keep secrets long in the Nightside, especially when they include bad news. You should know that, John. Don't worry about it. I never worry about the future. Mostly because I don't believe I'm going to live to see it. It's a very liberating attitude. Worry about the present me, John."

"Oh I do," I assured her. "I do."

I put my back against the bar and looked out over the place. Just another night in the oldest bar in the world. Alex's muscle-bound bouncers, Betty and Lucy Coltrane, were throwing out a bunch of burly masked Mexican wrestlers, and making them cry like little girls in the process. Never mess with the Coltranes. Especially when they're wearing their ROLLERBALL HELLCAT MUD-WRESTLING CHAMPIONS T-shirts. Not far away, a cyborg with glowing golden eyes ordered another bottle of neat ethanol from Alex, in a strange buzzing voice. He'd dropped in from a possible future via a Timeslip, and was currently trying to mend his left leg with a pair of pliers and a sonic screwdriver someone had left behind in the bar. I was actually pleased to see him. It was good to know that other futures, apart from the terrible devastated future I feared so much, were still possible.