will find me, even here. And I don't think even the Lord of Thorns could stop this new awful thing my enemies have unleashed. From now on, my gift can only be used as a very last resort.'
'There's always the Tower of Time,' said Sinner.
I winced. 'I'd really rather not. Time travel is what you turn to after you've tried everything else, including closing your eyes and praying the problem will just go away. Time travel tends to cause more problems than it solves.'
And since I now knew my enemies were operating out of a possible future, and sending their agents back through time, there was always the chance travelling in time might give them direct access to me.
Pretty Poison wasn't convinced. 'But we could use time travel to go right back to the beginning of the Nightside and witness its creation for ourselves! All the answers and no more mysteries!'
'Not a good idea,' said Madman. 'There were Beings and Forces abroad at that time that could destroy us all. I have Seen them. The Past is not what we think it is.'
We all looked at him, but that was all he had to say. He was definitely getting more lucid, but not any easier to have around.
The Lord of Thorns raised his head sharply. 'The Authorities have sent people down into the World Beneath, against all truces and agreements. Apparently your banishing of the demon at my Gate set off some kind of alarm. They have blocked off the Gate and are working to seal off all the other entrances they know about.' He looked at me. 'I could kill them, if you wish. There are only a few thousand of them.'
I had no doubt he could do it. I shook my head quickly, thinking of angels with their wings ripped off and all of Walker's watchers I'd spent good times with in the past.
'Sometimes death can be the tidiest of solutions,' said the Lord of Thorns. 'But as you wish. I can offer you another way out. No-one knows all the entrances and exits to my domain these days.'
'You mean you keep secrets from the Authorities?' said Sinner. 'I am shocked, I tell you, shocked.'
The Lord of Thorns sniffed. 'We haven't talked for centuries. They are in charge of the Nightside's politics. I am in charge of its soul.'
'But we're still going to need Walker's people off our back, while I work out where to go and whom to see next,' I said. 'If the Authorities have ordered him to declare open season on me ...'
'I may be able to help,' Pretty Poison said slowly. 'I have a ... history, with Walker.'
Sinner gave her a hard look. 'You've kept very quiet about that.'
'I have known many men,' said Pretty Poison, just as sharply. 'Countless men, over countless years. I was given to Walker once, as a present, by the Authorities. I could revisit him, using our old connection, and ... talk with him. Try and use our shared past to get him to call off his dogs for a while. Maybe even get some answers out of him. Of course, if he won't be reasonable ...'
'You are not to kill him,' said Sinner.
'Of course not, sweetie. I need him alive to answer questions and call off his people.'
'Alive and intact,' Sinner said sternly.
'You're such a spoil-sport, sometimes. Very well, I'll do it the hard way then. I'll set up a spell so you can all observe our meeting.' She reached out and took Sinner's face in her hands. 'You have to learn to trust me, dear Sidney. I need to do this, to prove myself to you.' She smiled suddenly. 'I promise you this; Walker isn't going to know what's hit him.'
Nine -
Pretty Poison stepped delicately through a halo of hell-fire and materialised smiling before an astonished Walker. I could tell he was astonished because he actually raised both eyebrows at once. He was sitting at a table covered with a pretty patterned cloth, and a cup of tea raised halfway to his mouth. Pretty Poison looked unhurriedly about her, and the vision she was sending the rest of us pulled back to show an old-fashioned tea room, complete with live classical musicians and maids in traditional black-and-white uniforms. The musicians had stopped playing, staring open-mouthed at the new arrival, and the maids were falling back in pretty disarray. Pretty Poison smiled widely at Walker.
'The Willow Tree tea house! One of our special places.
How sweet that we should meet here again, after all these years.'
Walker sighed and put down his cup. It was delicate bone china, with a willow tree pattern. Armed men and women came running forward from every direction to surround the table, their guns trained unwaveringly on Pretty Poison. Some of them brandished amulets and crucifixes, and at least one had an aboriginal pointing-bone. Pretty Poison just looked at Walker and raised an eyebrow. Walker gestured tiredly to the armed men and women.
'Everyone stand down. It's all right. This person is known to me. Resume your positions. Good reaction times, everyone. Except you, Lovett. See me later.'
The security people reluctantly lowered their weapons and retreated. People sitting at nearby tables began to relax again. Walker looked at the musicians, who consulted hastily among themselves, and began a piece by Bach. Walker looked at Pretty Poison. He wasn't smiling.
'Hello, Sophia.'
'Hello, Henry. It's been a while, hasn't it?'
'May I ask how you got in here, past all the Willow Tree's defences and my own personal protections?'
'Because of our past history, darling. We're linked together, now and forever.'
'The past haunts us all,' Walker said dryly. 'Especially in the Nightside. I won't say it's a pleasure to see you again, because it isn't.'
Pretty Poison pouted fetchingly. 'How very ungallant. Aren't you at least going to ask me to sit down?'
Walker sighed again and indicated the empty chair opposite him with a non-committal hand. His face was calm and composed as always, but I knew that behind his usual world-weary facade he had to be thinking furiously. Walker was never caught off guard for long. Pretty Poison sat down gracefully, put her hands on the table so Walker could keep an eye on them, and beamed at him.
'I'd absolutely adore a cup of tea, darling.'
Walker checked the ornate china teapot before him, found it was practically empty, and gestured for a waitress. The waitresses looked at each other, there was a brief but silent communication of raised eyebrows and shaken heads, then the most recently employed was forced forward by peer pressure. She tottered up to the table, smiling gamely, and Walker ordered a fresh pot of tea and another cup.
'Anything else?' quavered the waitress. 'Fairy cakes? Fresh cream? Can I take your coat?'
'Go away,' said Pretty Poison. 'Or I'll burn you alive from the inside out.'
The waitress departed, running, to have hysterics at a safe distance. Walker looked reproachfully at Pretty Poison.
'You haven't changed a bit, Sophia. It'll take more than a generous gratuity to smooth that over. I'll be lucky if I'm not banned.'
'But I thought you ran things in the Nightside these days, Henry.'
'There are limits. Do try and behave in a civilised manner. I have my reputation to consider.'
A different waitress arrived and set out a new tea service. She pushed the second cup in Pretty Poison's general direction, without looking at her, then fled. Walker poured Pretty Poison a cup of hot, steaming tea, adding a dash of milk and one sugar without having to be asked. Pretty Poison clapped her hands together delightedly.
'You remembered! You always were good about the little things, Henry.' She looked at him critically. 'You look older, dear. Distinguished.'
'You look just like I remember you,' said Walker. 'But then you would, wouldn't you? Being what you are.'
'What do you see, when you look at me?' said Pretty Poison, sipping carefully at her tea with her little finger carefully extended. 'I look different to everyone, so I never know.'
'Let's just say I was perhaps a little too fond of Marianne Faithful in my younger days, and leave it at that.'
