stabbers.”
“Well, quite,” said Rogue, changing back to his own face.
I gave him my best sneer and left him to it. Something about Rogue’s supercilious manners and quiet contempt got on my nerves, but not enough for me to peg him as a major suspect. He was right; he had no motive. Never been here before, never even met King of Skin, wasn’t even here long enough to be insulted by him. But there were no murders until he turned up. Something to think about.
I found the Bride and Springheel Jack arguing quietly but fiercely with Hadleigh Oblivion. They wanted to leave, and he was having none of it. They all looked round as I approached. Springheel Jack took a step towards me, but the Bride stopped him immediately with a large hand on his arm.
“Sorry,” I said. “But the Detective Inspectre is following my orders. Nobody leaves till we’ve sorted this out. Do you have somewhere you need to be?”
“An unseen murderer, with an unknown weapon, hiding among the immortals?” said Jack. “I want the Bride out of here. It’s not safe.”
“Your concern is touching, Jack, but if you don’t cut this condescending crap right now, I will slap you a good one,” said the Bride. “I am old enough to be your great-grandmother, and I know how to look after myself.”
“King of Skin almost certainly felt the same,” said Springheel Jack. He looked around the crowded ball-room. “Something isn’t right here. I can feel it. Like a premonition . . . Someone else is going to die here. There’s a wolf hiding among the sheep, and oh his teeth are sharp . . .”
He seemed almost to be in a trance. I looked at the Bride.
“Does he have the Sight?”
“I don’t know,” said the Bride. “Being Springheel Jack makes him more aware of the horrors of the world, but the state doesn’t exactly come with a user’s manual. If he says someone’s going to die, I’d put money on it . . . Jack. Jack!”
He looked at her blankly for a moment, then shuddered suddenly, as though someone had tripped over his grave.
“We need to get out of here, lover. Something bad is coming.”
“Then help me find the killer,” I said. “You can start by answering some questions.”
“Go ahead,” said the Bride.
“King of Skin spoke with you,” I said to Springheel Jack. “He said he knew what you really are. He also said he couldn’t be harmed by mortal weapons, and you said your razors were more than mortal.”
“That’s right,” said Springheel Jack. “They are. But you don’t stab someone with a cut-throat razor. I’ve seen the wound in his back; you’re looking for a large jagged-edged weapon. Doesn’t sound like a straight razor, does it?”
“I would quite certainly have smacked him round the head a few times for what he said,” said the Bride. “But he wasn’t worth it. King of Skin is part of the entertainment at these dos. We all turn up to see what he’ll say about other people. We expect him to have a go at us. It’s part of the game. You have to be able to take some, to hear some. Look, Jack and I both vouch for each other. We were together, when we heard King of Skin had been murdered. Haven’t left each other’s side since we got here. So we are each other’s alibi.”
“Yes,” I said. “But as a wise woman once said, ‘You would say that, wouldn’t you?’”
“I’m cold,” said Springheel Jack. “I’m so cold . . . It’s close, and it’s getting closer.”
His eyes had gone fey again. The Bride looked at him worriedly.
“Come with me, dear, and I’ll find you a nice large brandy to warm you up.”
She led him away, into the crowd. I looked at Hadleigh.
“Could you really have kept them in if they’d wanted out?” I said.
“Oh, I think so,” said Hadleigh. “Is it my turn now? I can’t vouch for my whereabouts as I have no idea where I was when King of Skin was murdered. I have no alibi. But you must know; I wouldn’t need a weapon to kill someone. Or I could have made him disappear. Sent him somewhere awful, to suffer for his many sins, and no-one would ever have known a thing about it.”
“Do you do that a lot?” I said, somewhat creeped out.
“When necessary,” said Hadleigh Oblivion.
“You’re really not helping your case,” I said. “What better way to hide your intent than a deliberately clumsy attack?”
“I have no weapons on me,” Hadleigh said easily. “I don’t feel the need for such things. Search me if you like. You won’t find anything. I guarantee it.”
But I was still thinking about the rose he had withered by breathing it in. And how King of Skin’s faces had withered away . . . “You knew about King of Skin’s other skins,” I said. “No-one else did. And he said he knew the price you paid, to gain access to the Deep School. What kind of price was that? What did you do, that you couldn’t tell your brothers? Did King of Skin know something that you couldn’t afford anyone else to know?”
“He knew nothing,” said Hadleigh. “The only people who know anything about the Deep School are those who’ve been there. And we never talk.”
I was getting ready to pursue the point when another great cry went up. A man, crying out in shock and horror. The immortals were already falling back, scattering like panicked birds, from something that had happened on the other side of the room. I forced my way through them, to find Springheel Jack kneeling by the still-and- lifeless body of the Bride. He was holding her in his arms, rocking her back and forth like a sleeping child, his face gaunt with horror and loss. The Bride’s eyes were wide open and staring. She looked like a broken doll. I could see a jagged wound in her side, soaked with blood. Jack looked at me.
I looked quickly around. No-one had a knife or any other weapon in hand, and no-one looked particularly guilty. Most of them looked shocked, unable to believe that a second murder of an immortal could have happened in a place where they should have felt safe. I could see the same thought start to appear in several faces—the need to get out of this dangerous place.
“Everyone please move to the back of the ballroom!” I said loudly. “Back up to the door. Hadleigh is there; the Detective Inspectre. He’ll keep you safe. And, no, it couldn’t have been him because I was talking with him when the murder happened. Now move back, keep an eye on whom you’re with, and leave me to get on with the investigation. Shut up and move!”
They moved. I turned my back on them, to concentrate on Springheel Jack and the Bride. He was crying now, great racking sobs that shook his whole body. The Bride looked large and ungainly, the way she never had in life, her long body sprawled across the floor. I knelt beside her and checked her neck and wrist for a pulse, but there was nothing. I never thought there would be. I was going through the motions while my mind worked frantically. I looked at Springheel Jack.
“I’m sorry. She’s gone.”
“No,” he said, forcing the words out between sobs. “She can’t be gone. She was born from the dead, a triumph of the Baron’s skill. He put her together using the finest parts of a hundred women, that she should have all their strength. She was born of the lightning . . .”
He stopped abruptly, and his tears stopped, and his head came up as a great inspiration filled his face. He pushed the Bride’s body away from him and scrambled to his feet. The body slammed back against the floor, and he didn’t even notice in his excitement.
“Born of the lightning! Of course! You can’t kill the Bride of Frankenstein just by stabbing her! He made her better than that!”
He grabbed an ornamental lamp from the buffet table, and ripped the lamp free from its cable. Sparks sputtered from the ragged metal ends. Springheel Jack laughed breathlessly, grabbed the cable, and sank down beside the body of his Bride. He pressed the bare wires against her wounded side, and her whole body convulsed. He hit her with the electricity again, and the Bride sat bolt upright, drawing in a great ragged breath of air. Springheel Jack threw the sparking cable aside and held her in his arms, burying his face in her neck. She patted him absently with one oversized hand and looked dazedly around her.
“What the hell happened? And why does my side hurt?”
She looked down at the bloody wound in her side and swore briefly. She checked it out carefully with her fingertips, then sniffed loudly.
