'Over the years, all kinds of people have come up with all kinds of theories as to who and what my mother might have been. Why she appeared out of nowhere, married my father, produced me, and then disappeared again. And why she didn't take me with her. But no-one's ever been able to prove anything out of the ordinary about me, apart from my gift. And gifts are as common as freckles among the sons and daughters of the Nightside.'
Joanna frowned suddenly. 'On the tube train,
coining here, the Brittle Sisters of the Hive recognised your name. They backed off, rather than upset you. And they asked to be remembered, when you finally came into your kingdom.'
I had to smile. 'That doesn't necessarily mean anything. In the Nightside, you can never be sure which ugly duckling might grow up to be a beautiful swan, or even a phoenix. So if you're sensible you hedge your bets and back as many horses as possible. And never make an enemy you don't have to.'
Joanna leaned forward across the plastic table, pushing her Coke bottle aside so she could stare at me the more fiercely. 'And do you still intend to go on looking for your mother, now you know what might happen to the world if you find her?'
'It's a hell of a wake-up call, isn't it? It's certainly given me a lot of food for thought.'
'That isn't answering the question.'
'I know. Look, I hadn't even intended to stay here, in the Nightside, once this case was over and done with. I left this madhouse five years ago for good reasons, and none of them have changed. But.. . more and more, this dangerous and appalling place feels like home to me. Like I belong here. Your safe and sane everyday world didn't seem to have any place for me. At least here I get the feeling I could do some real good for my clients. That I could ... make a difference.'
'Oh yes,' said Joanna. 'You could make a hell of a difference here.'
I met Joanna's gaze as calmly as I could. 'All I can honestly say is this—I really don't care enough about my mother to risk bringing about the future we both saw.'
'But that could change.'
'Yes. It could. Anything can happen, in the Night-side. Drink your nice Coke, Joanna, and try not to worry about it.'
The Crazy World of Arthur Brown was belting out 'Fire,' by the time Joanna had calmed down enough to ask another question.
'I need you to be straight with me, John. Do you think Cathy is still alive?'
'I have no reason to believe she's not,' I said honestly. 'We know she was alive very recently. The last image my gift picked up was only a few days old. We know Someone or Something called her into the Nightside, but there's no direct evidence that individual means Cathy any harm. There's no evidence that he doesn't, either, but when you're groping in the dark it's best to be optimistic. As yet, no clear threat or danger has manifested. We have to proceed on the assumption that she's still alive. We have ... to have hope.'
'Hope? Even here?' said Joanna. 'In the Night-side?'
'Especially here,' I said. This time I put my hand
on hers. Our hands felt good together, natural. 'I'll do everything I can for you, Joanna. I won't give up, as long as there's a shred of hope left.'
'I know,' said Joanna. 'You're a good man at heart, John Taylor.'
We looked into each other's eyes for a long time, and both of us were smiling. We believed in each other, even if we weren't too sure about ourselves. I knew this wasn't a good idea.
'It's not too late for you to back out,' I said. 'You've been through enough. Stay here, and let me handle Blaiston Street. You'll be safe here.'
'No,' Joanna said immediately, pulling her hands away from mine. 'I have to do this. I have to be there, when you find... what's happened to my daughter. I have to know the truth, and she has to know . .. that I cared enough to come myself. Dammit, John, I've earned the right to be there.'
'Yes,' I said, quietly proud of her. 'You have.'
'John Taylor, as I live and breathe,' said a cold, cheerful voice. 'I really couldn't believe it when they
told me you'd showed up again. I thought you had more sense, Taylor.'
I knew the voice, and took my time turning around. There aren't many people who can sneak up on me. Sure enough, standing behind me was Walker, large as life and twice as official. Every inch the City Gent, sharp and stylish and sophisticated. Handsome, if a little on the heavy side, with cold eyes and smile and an even colder heart. Had to be in his late forties by now, but you still wouldn't bet on the other guy. People like Walker don't slow down; they just get sneakier. His perfect city suit was expertly cut, and he tipped his bowler hat to Joanna with something very like charm. I glared at him.
'How did you know where to find me, Walker? I didn't know I was coming here till a few minutes ago.'
'I know where everyone is, Taylor. You'd do well to remember that.'
'John, who is this ... person?' asked Joanna, and I could have blessed her for the sheer unimpressed indifference in her voice.
'Perhaps you should introduce me to your client,' said Walker. 'I would so hate for us to start off on the wrong foot.'
'Your tie's crooked,' said Joanna, and I could have kissed her.
'This is Walker,' I said. 'If he has a first name, no-one knows it. Probably not even his wife. Ex-
Eton and ex-Guards, because his sort always is. Mentioned in dispatches for being underhanded, treacherous and more dangerous than a shark in a swimming pool. Walker represents the Authorities, here in the Nightside. Don't ask what Authorities, because he doesn't answer questions like that. All that matters is he could have you or me or anyone else dragged off without warning, with no guarantee we'd ever be seen again. Unless he had a use for us. He plays games with people's lives, all in the name of preserving his precious status quo.'
'I preserve the balance,' Walker said easily, flicking an invisible speck of dust from his impeccable sleeve. 'Because someone has to.'
'No-one knows who or what Walker reports to, or where his orders come from,' I continued, 'Government or Church or Army. But in an emergency he has been known to call for backup from any damned force he wants; and they come running every time. His word is law, and he enforces it with whatever measures it takes. Always immaculately turned out, charming in a ruthless kind of way, and never, ever, to be trusted. No-one ever sees him coming. You can never tell when he's going to come strolling out of the shadows with a smile and a quip, to pour oil on troubled waters, or occasionally vice versa.
'He has a gift for getting answers. There aren't many who can say no to him. They say he once made
a corpse sit up on an autopsy table and talk with him.'
'You flatter me,' said Walker.
'You'll notice he's not denying it. Walker can call on powers and dominations, and make them answer to him. He has power, but no accountability. And damn all conscience, either. In a place where the Light and the Dark are more than just aphorisms, Walker remains determinedly grey. Like any good civil servant.'
'It's all about duty and responsibility, Taylor,' said Walker. 'You wouldn't understand.'
'Walker disapproves of people like me,' I said, smiling coldly. 'Rogue agents, individuals who insist on being in charge of their own destinies, and their own souls. He thinks we muddy the waters. It's not often you'll see him out in the open, like this. He much prefers to stay in the shadows, so people can't see him pulling strings. Anyone at all could be working for him, knowingly or unknowingly, doing his bidding, so Walker doesn't have to get his own hands dirty. And of course, if one of his unofficial agents should get killed in the process, well, there are always more where they came from. For Walker the end always justifies the means, because the end is keeping the Nightside and its occupants strictly separate from the everyday world that surrounds it.'
Walker bowed his head slightly, as though anticipating applause. 'I do so love it when you introduce
me, Taylor. You do it so much better than I ever could.'
