The Bride Wore Black Leather

Chandra Singh and Augusta Moon had also turned up, surprisingly arm in arm, two great monster hunters representing the Adventurers Club. They were sharing their table with a great hulking yeti (with any number of cute pink ribbons in its shaggy grey fur), a talking mongoose called Cliff, and Klatu the Thing from Dimension X. I would have given a lot to listen in on that conversation, but I was distracted by a polite but imperious cough from the next table.

The Rogue Vicar Tamsin MacReady sat elegantly upright in her chair, drinking beer from a straight glass with her little finger extended. A tiny little thing, the vicar was barely five feet tall and slender with it. She had kind eyes and a winning smile, and a backbone of tempered steel. She wore a simple grey suit with a vicar’s white collar. She didn’t look like a fire-breathing zealot, but then the real ones seldom do. Sitting beside her was her close companion, Sharon Pilkington-Smythe. A healthy-looking young lady, wearing a baggy grey jumper over thoroughly worn-in riding britches. She had shaggy red hair and fierce green eyes, and a smile that took no prisoners. She was drinking snakebite from a brandy glass, and fooling no-one. I sighed inwardly and sat down with them. A vicar will always catch you, no matter how fast you run.

“I have to say, sweetie, that I am a bit put-out that you didn’t want my Tamsin to officiate at your wedding,” said Sharon immediately.

“Oh hush, dear,” said the rogue vicar. “I’m not one to put myself forward, you know that.”

“Of course not, sweetie; that’s what I’m here for.”

“The Lord of Thorns will be performing the ceremony,” I said. “At the Church of St. Jude’s.”

“There, you see?” said the vicar, waggling a finger in remonstration at Sharon. “Definitely outclassed. I just represent God in the Nightside; the Lord of Thorns has personal chats with Him on a regular basis.”

“Well, yes, but you do real heart-to-heart stuff at your weddings,” Sharon said stubbornly. “Really makes a person feel married.”

But Tamsin MacReady was already looking thoughtfully at Razor Eddie, in his private booth at the back. She said something very un-vicar-like, under her breath, and looked sharply at me.

“I have heard talk . . . that Razor Eddie might be getting above himself. You’re Walker now; you don’t have to deal personally with every threat that comes your way. If you wish, I could set Sharon on him.”

“Does everyone here know about the prophecy?” I said, a bit miffed.

“Pretty much,” said the rogue vicar. “Any news about Razor Eddie tends to do the rounds fairly quickly, if only so the rest of us know which way to jump when the trouble starts.”

“Grubby little upstart,” said Sharon. “I could take him.” She studied Razor Eddie with her hungry eyes, and I remembered the brief glimpse I’d once got of her true, hidden nature, a brief vision of huge teeth and ragged claws, of something indescribably vile and vicious.

“Sharon, sweetie, I could take him,” Tamsin MacReady said firmly. “He’s only another god from the Street of the Gods. I serve the true God, and His strength is mine.”

“No-one’s taking anyone,” I said, just as firmly. “Let us all play nicely together, if only for one night. Thanks for the offer, though, Vicar. But I solve my own problems. That’s how you get to be Walker.”

“We like what you’ve done with Suzie Shooter,” said Sharon. “We’re all very impressed with how you’ve calmed her down. We were worried we might have to do something about her.”

I had to smile. “I haven’t calmed her down in the least. I’ve helped her channel her anger more productively.”

“Love conquers all,” said Tamsin, smiling fondly at Sharon. “That’s what it’s for.”

I moved on again. It was my party, my stag night, but I couldn’t seem to settle. As though I were looking for the one person who wasn’t there, but should have been. I went back to the bar.

“It’s early yet,” said Alex. “People will be arriving for ages yet whether we want them to or not. Oh, don’t tell me you invited the Authorities?”

“I sort of had to,” I said. “But it was kind of understood on both sides that I was being polite. Julien Advent’s okay; but most of the others could stop a party at twenty paces. And anyway, right now they’ve got more pressing worries. You have heard of King of Skin’s murder . . . of course you have. Anyway, they’ve got to choose a worthy replacement, and quickly, or risk looking weak and indecisive.”

“I don’t mind Julien Advent,” said Alex. “He only drinks the good stuff, pays his bar bill on time, and hardly ever starts a fight. But I’ve never been too sure how you and he get on. I wouldn’t have thought you’d have anything in common. Some days you’re the best of partners in crime, and the next he’s offering a reward for your arrest and writing nasty editorials about you in the Night Times.”

“We’re friends, sort of,” I said. “But he’s never approved of the way I get things done. He’s got principles. He’s always been a hero, the real deal, whereas I have always taken a more pragmatic approach to things. We get along. Most of the time. We know where we stand with each other.”

“Oh, hell,” sad Alex. “Speak of the devil, and up he pops.”

I looked around, and sure enough there he was. Julien Advent the Great Victorian Adventurer, standing at the bottom of the stairs and looking around the bar as though he couldn’t decide whom to disapprove of first. A very moral and upright person, Julien Advent, despite having lived in the Nightside all these years. He still looked like the English Gentleman and Hero of the Empire he used to be before being pushed through a Timeslip and ending up here in the 1960s. He hadn’t aged or changed a bit in all that time and still dressed in the grand old style, complete with red-lined black opera cape; and standing quietly there, entirely at his ease, he looked every inch the hero and adventurer he still was.

The whole room was going quiet. People had noticed he’d arrived. Some people were pleased to see him, some averted their eyes, and some hid under their tables, hoping he hadn’t noticed them. Even the band stopped playing though the mike was picking up a low, angry growl from Leo Morn. Julien nodded politely to the assembled company, with his usual impeccable manners, then he turned his head and looked straight at me. I sighed inwardly. I knew what that meant. It meant he was determined to talk to me in private, about a matter of some importance, and that I really wasn’t going to like anything he had to tell me.

I led him to one of the few empty booths, at the rear of the bar, and we sat down facing each other. Well, I sat down; he took a few moments to remove his cape and fold it carefully before sitting down. He didn’t look at me once while doing this, which meant he wasn’t at all comfortable about what he had to say and was putting it off. We’ve known each other a long time, and we can always read each other’s tells. He eventually sat down, leaned forward, laced his hands together, and leaned them on the table-top before finally fixing me with a calm, resolute gaze.

Oh hell, I thought. This is going to be really bad.

“I need you to take on a very important, very urgent case. Right now,” said Julien Advent. “And before you ask, yes, it really is that urgent, no it can’t wait until after your wedding tomorrow, and I am not prepared to take No, Absolutely Not, or even Go to Hell as an answer. You’ve had your last case as a private investigator; this will be your first official case as the new Walker. And yes, John, I know all about what happened with King of Skin. I know every detail. I am editor of the Night Times as well as a member of the Authorities. I know everything.”

“You didn’t know that King of Skin was an immortal serial killer,” I said. “Or that he was planning to murder you all, wrap himself in your skins, and rule the Nightside as his own private kingdom.”

“I’m only human,” said Julien. “I don’t care what the rumours say.” He sighed, separated his hands to make a point, started to say something, then broke off, and finally settled for drumming his fingers on the table before looking me square in the eyes again. “If you will agree to take on this case, immediately, I have been authorised by the remaining Authorities to offer you an . . . inducement. We will cover all the expenses for security at your wedding. We guarantee to keep all your many enemies at bay and ensure that everything goes smoothly and quietly at the ceremony. The fact that I am willing to go along with such a blatant attempt at bribery should give you some indication of how seriously I take this case.”

I thought about it. Covering the expenses would be a weight off my shoulders. I’d already had to hire Hell’s Neanderthals to set up a defence barrier for half a mile around St. Jude’s; and those cloned barbarians don’t come cheap.

“What’s so important about this case?” I said resignedly.

“Someone is determined to put an end to the long night,” said Julien Advent. “To raise the sun at long last and bring the dawn to the Nightside. To bring an end to the longest night this world has ever known and destroy the Nightside forever.”