Sharper Than a Serpent's Tooth (5 page)

"Where is she?" I said, and my voice was colder than the night. Tommy and Sandra sat up a little straighter.

"She's sleeping peacefully," said Sandra. "In one of these graves. I put a spell on her, then Tommy and I opened up a grave, put her in it, and covered her over again. She's quite safe, for the time being. All you have to do is turn yourself in to Walker, and Tommy and I will dig her up and return her safely to the Nightside. Of course, the longer she stays underground, the more difficult it will be to wake her from the spell…"

"Of course," I said. "You're never happy with a spell unless it's got a sting in the tail." I looked at Tommy. "Why are you doing this? Sandra I can understand. I've never known her to balk at anything if the price was right. But you… what happened to those principles you used to trumpet so loudly? Cathy's the only innocent in this whole business."

His cheeks flushed a little, but he held my gaze steadily. "Needs must when the devil drives, old sport. You're just too dangerous to be allowed to run loose any more. I saw what you did with Merlin and Nimue, remember? You don't care about anyone or anything, except getting your own way."

"No," said Razor Eddie. "That's not true."

We all glanced at him, a little startled. He was so quiet and still it was easy to forget he was there.

"You have to be stopped," said Tommy, a little more loudly than was necessary. "You're cold and ruthless and…"

"You got back from the Past months ago," I said, talking right over him. "Why didn't you do something before this? Why wait till now?"

"I was keeping my head down, out of sight, while I thought things through," said Tommy. He was trying hard not to sound defensive. "I put a lot of thought into how best to stop you. It took me a while to admit I couldn't hope to do it alone. So I came up with this plan, and went to Walker with it, and he put me together with Sandra. Not at all a nice plan, I agree, but you brought it on yourself. Fight fire with fire, and all that. You might say… this was my last test for you, John. One last chance to see what you're really made of, to see if you care for anyone other than yourself. Prove me wrong about you. Prove to me and to Walker that you're not the evil we think you are by turning yourself in. And I give you my word that Cathy will be released, entirely unharmed."

"I can't," I said, trying hard to make him hear the need and urgency and honesty in my voice. "My mother Lilith is back, and she's worse than I'll ever be. I'm the only one who can stop her from destroying the Nightside."

"Such arrogance," said Sandra. "We'll stop her, after we've dealt with you."

"I could blow your head right off your shoulders," Suzie Shooter said casually.

"You could try," said Sandra Chance. The two women smiled at each other easily. Sandra leaned forward to put down her champagne glass, and Suzie moved her shotgun slightly to keep her covered. "I am a necromancer," said Sandra. "And this is my place of power. With this much death to draw on, even the Punk God of the Straight Razor can't hope to stand against me. Your presence here was not expected or required, little god. This is nothing to do with you."

"Yes it is," said Eddie. "I know what you found in the future, John. I know who you found. I've always known."

I looked at him sharply. I saw him die, in the Timeslip future. I helped him to die. But I never told anyone.

He shrugged easily. "I'm a god, remember?"

"This doesn't have to end in violence," Tommy said urgently, sensing the undercurrents. "You know I'm an honourable man, John."

"You might be," I said. "But Sandra works for Walker. And Walker… has his own very personal take on honour, when it comes to the Nightside. He'd sacrifice any number of innocents to preserve the Nightside for the Authorities."

"He was supposed to be here," said Tommy, frowning slightly. "To reassure you of his good intentions. But unfortunately he was called away. It seems something really unpleasant is happening on the Street of the Gods."

We all looked at Razor Eddie, who met our gaze a little reproachfully. "Nothing to do with me," he said.

"Hell with this," said Sandra Chance, rising to her feet in one smooth feline movement. "It's time to take care of business."

"No!" said Tommy, scrambling untidily to his feet. "He has to be given a chance to surrender! You agreed!"

"I lied," said Sandra. "His existence offends me. He killed the Lamentation."

"Ah yes," I said. "Your… what was the term, exactly, I wonder? You never did have much taste in lovers, Sandra. The Lamentation was just a nasty little Power with delusions of godhood, and the world smells better now that it's gone."

"It was the Saint of Suffering, and it served a purpose!" Sandra said loudly. "It weeded out the weak and punished the foolish, and I was proud to serve it!"

"Exactly what was your relationship with the Lamentation?" said Tommy Oblivion. His voice was thoughtful and not at all threatening, as his gift manifested subtly on the still air. Tommy could be very persuasive when he chose to be. I don't know whether Sandra could feel what was happening, but she answered anyway, her cold green eyes locked on mine.

"I used to investigate insurance fraud," she said. "And a cluster of unexplained suicides brought me to the Church of the Lamentation. We talked, and we… connected. I don't think it had ever met anyone like me, with my fetish for death."

"Kindred spirits, who found each other in Hell," I said softly. "What did you do for the Lamentation, Sandra? What deal did you make with your devil?"

"Your devil, my god," said Sandra Chance. "I became its Judas Goat, leading the suffering to their Saint, and it taught me the ways of the necromancer. It gave me what I'd always wanted. To lie down with death and rise up wreathed in power."

"Of course," said Tommy, "such knowledge usually drives people insane. But you were functionally crazy to begin with."

"Takes one to know one," said Sandra. "Now shut up, Tommy, or I'll do something amusing to you. You're only here on sufferance."

"It was my plan!"

"No," said Sandra. "This was always Walker's plan."

"And you never gave a damn, for all the poor bastards you delivered to your nasty lover?" I said. "To die in despair, then linger in horror, bound even after death to the service of the Lamentation?"

"They were weak," said Sandra. "They gave up. I never broke under the strain, never gave up. I save my help for those who deserve it."

"Of course you didn't care," said Suzie Shooter. "You're even more heartless than I am. I'm going to enjoy killing you."

"Enough talk," said Sandra. "It's time to dance the dance of life and death, little people. I shall raise all those who lie here because of you—John Taylor, Shotgun Suzie, Razor Eddie. All your victims gathered together in one place, with hate and vengeance burning in their cold, cold hearts. And they will drag you down into the cold wet earth and hold you there in their bony arms until finally… you stop screaming. Don't say I never did anything for you."

She raised her arms high in the stance of summoning, and chanted ancient Words of Power. Energies crackled fiercely around her extended fingers… and nothing happened. The energies dissipated harmlessly on the freezing air, unable to come together. Sandra stood there awkwardly for a long moment, then slowly lowered her arms and looked about her, confused.

"The Necropolis graveyard is protected by seriously heavy-duty magics," said Eddie, in his calm, ghostly voice. "I thought everyone knew that."

"But the magics were supposed to have been suppressed!" said Sandra. "Walker promised me!"

"That wasn't the deal!" said Tommy. "I wasn't told about any of this!"

"You didn't need to know."

There was a pleasant chiming sound, a brief shimmering on the air, and there was Walker, standing before us in his neat city suit and old-school tie. He smiled vaguely about him. "This… is a recording. I'm afraid I can't be here with you, on the grounds it might prove injurious to my health. By now you should have realised that the magics of this place have not been shut down, as promised, Sandra Chance. My apologies for the deception; but it was necessary. You see, this isn't just a trap for John Taylor; it's a trap for all of you. Taylor, Shooter, Oblivion, and Chance. I'm afraid you've all become far more trouble than you're worth. And I need to be free to concentrate on the Really Bad Thing that all my best precogs insist is coming. So the decision has been made to dispense with all of you. I have at least extracted a promise from the Authorities that after you've all killed each other, or the cemetery has killed you, your bodies will be buried here, free of charge. It's the least I could do. Good-bye, John. I am sorry it had to come to this. I protected you for as long as I could… but I've always known my duty."

The image of Walker raised his bowler hat in our general direction, then snapped off. There was a long moment of silence.

"We are so screwed," said Suzie.

I looked at Eddie. "He didn't know you'd be here. You're our wild card in this situation."

"It's what I do best," said Eddie.

"Walker, you supercilious son of a bitch!" said Sandra Chance, actually stamping one bare foot in her outrage.

"I wouldn't argue with that," I said. "Ladies and gentlemen, it would appear we have all been declared redundant. Might I suggest it would be in all our best interests to work together, putting aside old quarrels until we're all safely out of here?"

"Agreed," said Sandra, two bright red spots burning on her pale cheeks. "But Walker is mine to kill."

"First things first," I said. "Where is Cathy?"

"Oh, we put her in the mausoleum right behind us," said Tommy. "Sleeping peacefully. You didn't really think I'd stand for her being buried alive, did you? What kind of a person do you think I am?"

"I ought to shoot you both right now, on general principles," said Suzie.

"Later," I said firmly.

The mausoleum was a huge stone Victorian edifice, with all the usual Gothic trimmings, plus a whole bunch of decidedly portly cherubs in mourning. The Victorians could get really sentimental about death. Tommy heaved open the door, and when I looked in there was Cathy, lying curled up on the bare stone floor like a sleeping child. She was wearing something fashionable, under a thick fur coat someone had wrapped around her like a blanket. She was actually snoring slightly. Tommy edged nervously past me, leaned over Cathy, and muttered a few Words under his breath. Cathy came awake immediately and sat up, yawning and knuckling at her sleepy eyes. I moved forward into the mausoleum, and Cathy jumped up and ran forward into my arms. I held her very tightly.

"I knew you'd come and find me," she said, into my shoulder.

"Of course," I said. "How would I ever run my office without you?"

She finally let go, and I did, too. We went out of the mausoleum and into the night, where Tommy Oblivion and Sandra Chance were standing stiffly a little to one side. Cathy stepped briskly forward, got a good hold on Sandra's breasts with both hands, then head-butted her in the face. Sandra fell backwards onto her bare arse, blood spurting from her broken nose. Tommy opened his mouth, either to object or explain, and Cathy kicked him square in the nuts. He went down on his knees, tears streaming past his squeezed-shut eyes, with both hands wedged between his thighs. Perhaps to reassure himself that his testicles were actually still attached.

"Messing with the wrong secretary," said Cathy.

"Nicely done," I said, and Cathy grinned at me.

"You are a bad influence on the child," Suzie said solemnly.

Sometime later we all assembled around the earth barrow. Tommy moved around slowly and carefully, packing up the picnic things, while Sandra stood with her back to all of us, sniffing gingerly through the nose she'd reset herself. Suzie glared suspiciously about her, shotgun at the ready. She was convinced Walker wouldn't have abandoned us here unless he knew there was Something in the cemetery strong and nasty enough to see us all off. She had a point. I turned to Razor Eddie.

"Walker didn't know you'd be here. And I'm reasonably sure he doesn't know about your new ability to cut doors into dimensions with that nasty little blade of yours. Take us home, Eddie, so we can express our extreme displeasure to him in person."

He nodded slightly, and the pearl-handled straight razor gleamed viciously in the starlight as he cut at the air before him, in a movement so fast none of us could follow it. We all braced ourselves, but nothing happened. Eddie frowned and tried again, still to no effect. He slowly lowered his blade and considered the air before him.

"Ah," he said finally.

"Ah?" I said. "What do you mean, ah? Is there something wrong with your razor, Eddie?"

"No, there's something wrong with the dimensional barriers."

"I don't like the sound of that, Eddie."

"I'm not too keen on it myself. Someone has strengthened the dimensional barriers, from the outside. No prizes for guessing who."

Cathy hugged my arm tightly. "How does he know things like that?"

"I find it better not to ask," I said. "Eddie, I… Eddie, why are you frowning? I really don't like it when you frown."

"Something's… changed," he said, his voice stark and flat. He looked around him, and we all did the same. The night seemed no different, cold and still and quiet, the graves unmoving and undisturbed under the gaudy starlight. But Eddie was right. Something had changed. We could all feel it, like the tension that precedes the breaking storm.

"You achieved something, with that spell of yours," Eddie said to Sandra. "It's still trying to work, undischarged in the cemetery atmosphere. It's not enough to affect the dead, but…"

"What do you mean, 'but'?" I said. "You can't stop there!"

"She's disturbed Something," said Razor Eddie. "It's been asleep a long time, but now it's waking… and it's waking angry."

We moved closer together, staring about us and straining our ears against the silence. The atmosphere in the graveyard was changing. There was a sense of potential on the air, of something about to happen, in this place where nothing was ever supposed to happen. Suzie turned her shotgun this way and that, searching in vain for a target.