Agents of Light and Darkness

going.'

'I do have an idea,' I said. 'But I'm reluctant to use it.'

'It's a wonderful idea,' Suzie said immediately. 'Whatever it is, it's a marvelous idea. I am in love with this idea. What is it?'

'I have a short cut that can take us straight to Strangefellows. Sometime back, in a weak moment, Alex Morrisey gave me a special club membership card, for use in emergencies. Once activated, the magic in the card will transport us right into the bar.

Alex heard about a rather unpleasant experience I had with the Harrowing, outside his club...'

Suzie was staring at me ominously. 'You've had it all along, and you haven't used it?'

'There's a catch.'

'Why am I not surprised?'

'Magic like this leaves a trail,' I said patiently. 'The angels will know immediately where we've gone. I was still hoping we might shake them off... but that doesn't seem to be an option any more.'

'Use the card,' said Suzie. 'Trust me, this is the right time to use it. Morrisey's always boasted his place had major-league protections. I say it's well past time we put that to the test.'

'He won't be pleased to see us.'

'Is he ever? Use the card!'

I already had it in my hand. A simple embossed card, with the name of the club in dark Gothic script, and the words You Are Here in blood red lettering. I pressed my thumb against the crimson words, and the card activated, thrumming with stored energy. It leapt out of my hand and hung in mid-air before me, pulsing with light and bubbling with strange energies. Alex always liked his magics showy. The angels sensed what was happening, and both sides surged forward. The card grew suddenly in size and became a door, which opened before me. Comfortable light and convivial sounds spilled out into the warehouse. Suzie and I ran through the opening into Strangefellows, and the door slammed shut behind us, cutting off the frustrated screams of thwarted angels.

I suppose I must have made more impressive entrances into Strangefellows, but I can't think when. Certainly the two of us appearing out of nowhere, crying Run for your lives! The angels are coming! made one hell of an impression. The crowd of assorted suspects and dubious types drinking in the club all suddenly remembered they had urgent appointments somewhere else and left the bar in an extreme hurry. Some used the doors, some used the windows. A few vanished in impressive puffs of black smoke, while others opened their own doors to less immediately threatening locations, and disappeared into them. One thoroughly panicked shapeshifter turned himself into a barstool, and hoped not to be noticed. And one guy (there's always one) took advantage of the general confusion to vault over the bar top and make a grab for the cash register. But Alex's bouncers, Betty and Lucy Coltrane, got him before he'd taken a dozen steps. Betty took the register away from him, Lucy kicked his ass up around his ears; then they let the dumb bastard run (or more properly limp) away. The Coltranes were both pretty sure they were going to have more important things to worry about. Alex stood behind the bar, watching it all and looking even more bitter and put upon than usual. A the last of his patrons vanished, and the place fell unusually quiet, he threw his mopping-up rag onto the bar top and glared at me.

'Thanks a whole bunch, Taylor. There go my profits for the evening. I knew I should never have given you that bloody card.'

Suzie and I leaned on the bar, breathing heavily, and Alex grudgingly pushed a bottle of brandy towards us. I took a good swallow, then passed the bottle to Suzie, who drank the rest of it. Alex winced.

'Why do I even bother giving you the good stuff? You never appreciate it. Now what's this about angels coming here?'

'They're right behind us,' I said. 'And in a really bad mood.'

'Tell us this place is protected,' said Suzie, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. 'I really need to hear this dump is seriously protected.'

'It is protected,' said Alex. 'But possibly ... not that protected.'

'Be specific,' I said. 'What have you got?'

Alex sighed heavily. 'I hate giving away trade secrets, but... Basically, this whole building is protected by wards, shaped curses and genetic-level booby-traps laid down by various magicians down the centuries, all of them pretty powerful and vicious as all hell. Grandfather put a really nasty curse on people who miss the urinals in the toilet. And, of course, my ancestor Merlin's still buried somewhere under the wine cellar. More than enough to keep the flies off, even in the Nightside, but no-one ever said anything about bloody angels! I don't suppose anyone ever thought the possibility would arise. Of course, they didn't know about you, Taylor.'

'You could always turn me over to the angels,' I said. 'I'd understand.'

'This is my bar!' Alex snapped immediately. 'No-one messes with my patrons, even if it's you. And no-one tells me what to do in my own bar, not even a bunch of celestial storm troopers. Should I lock all the doors and barricade the windows?'

'If you like,' I said.

'Won't it help?'

'Not really, no.'

'You're a bundle of fun to be around, Taylor, you know that?'

Suzie had her back to the bar, her shotgun in her hands, glowering warily about her. 'Taylor, how long before the angels get here?'

'Not long,' I said.

'Am I at least allowed to ask why both of you are soaked in what looks revoltingly like fresh blood?' said Alex. 'Not that I care if you're hurt, of course. I ask only for information, in the interests of hygiene.'

'I met up with an old friend,' I said.

'Anyone I know?'

'Belle.'

'Oh,' said Alex. 'Her. Is she... ?'

'She rests in pieces.'

'Good,' said Alex. 'Snooty bitch. Never liked her. Always putting on airs and looking down her nose at my bar snacks. And she always ordered the best champagne and never paid for it.'

'You wouldn't happen to have a really, really big gun stashed away behind your bar, would you?' Suzie said hopefully.

Alex sneered in her face. 'Even if I did, I'm not stupid enough to annoy an angel by pointing it at him. Anyway, last I heard, you and Taylor had the Speaking Gun . . . Tell me you still have the Speaking Gun.'

'We lost it,' I admitted.

Alex really looked like he was about to have a fit. His fists clenched, his teeth clenched, and he actually shuddered for a moment with frustration and outrage. He grabbed two tufts of spiky hair sticking out from under his beret and tugged at them dangerously.

'That is typical of you, Taylor! As long as I thought you had the Speaking Gun, I thought we might actually have a chance. But no! You get your hands on one of the most powerful weapons in the Nightside, and you lose it! You're a jinx, Taylor, you know that? You are nothing but bad news, and always have been! I can feel one of my heads coming on... How are we supposed to defend ourselves now? Buy the angels a round and spike their drinks? Lucy, Betty, emergency measures! Right now!'

The Coltranes fell to with a will, moving all the furniture away from in front of the bar, and opening up a large clear space. (The shapeshifted barstool yelped quietly at the rough handling, but refused to turn back.) Once the Coltranes had created a big enough space, they laid out a large pentacle, using salt cellars from behind the bar to mark the lines. They made a really professional job of it, considering they were drawing it freehand. Bouncers have to know many special skills, especially in the Nightside. We all took our places inside the pentacle, then Lucy and Betty sealed and activated the design by scrawling disturbing signs in the vales between the five points. Betty drew the last sign with a flourish, and the salt lines blazed with blue-white energies. Properly constructed pentacles drew their power from ley lines, the living nervous system of the material world. Unfortunately, angels drew their power from somewhere even more impressive.

Betty and Lucy Coltrane sat down together and held each other tightly. They'd done all they could. Suzie and