But I found the office again, and the plain and everything on it disappeared. I took another step towards Count Video.
He actually spat at me, shaking with rage. 'How dare you set your will against mine? I'll find a time-line where you have no gift! Where you were born crippled, or blind, or maybe never born at all!'
And while he was ranting I stepped forward and kicked him in the balls. His mouth dropped open, his eyes bulged, and he folded up and collapsed, to lie twitching on the floor.
'I guess they must have sewed those back on as well,' said Tommy.
'It seemed likely,' I said. 'When we're finished, I think I'll drag him out of here and find a passing Timeslip to drop him into. That should keep him busy for a while.'
'Still trying to be the Good Guy?' said Tommy.
And that was when Count Video reared up just long enough to fire one last blast of change magic at me. I threw myself to one side, and the crackling change flew on to hit Mr. Alexander squarely on the chest. There was a bright flare of light, and suddenly Mr. Alexander looked... different. Physically unchanged, he looked calmer and kinder and more relaxed with himself. He smiled at me, and it was a warm, generous smile. Somehow I knew he was a better person now, someone he might have been if things had gone a little differently.
'I'm so sorry,' he said, and we could all tell he meant it. 'How can I ever apologize to you all?' He came out from behind his desk and insisted we all help Count Video to his feet, then settle him into the expensive chair behind his desk. He even poured Count Video a stiff whiskey from a bottle of the good stuff he kept in a desk drawer. Finally, he
looked at me, and at Tommy, and finally Eamonn, before shaking his head ruefully.
'Please relax, all of you. It's over. The man who started this nonsense is gone, hopefully never to return. I intend to do things differently. I shall put a stop to this operation and see that none of you are troubled again. I feel... so much easier in myself now. You have no idea how much stress is involved in being the bad guy. Most of that man's memories are going, fading away like a bad dream, and I'm happy to see them go. Let me reassure you, Eamonn; I will make the Widow's Mite into the kind of Corporation we can both be proud of. And you are free to be ... whatever you want to be.'
Tommy looked at me. 'This is really spooky. I feel like I've wandered into A Christmas Carol.'
Mr. Alexander patted Count Video fondly on the shoulder. 'Take it easy, dear boy. You can leave whenever you want. Your work here is over.'
'The hell it is,' Count Video said painfully. 'This isn't over until I say it's over.'
Mr. Alexander took a cheque from his wallet and gave it to Count Video. 'Here. Payment in full, for services rendered.'
Count Video considered the cheque in his hand, then looked at me. I raised an eyebrow, and he winced.
'All right, it's over.'
He lurched to his feet, shrugging off a helping hand from Mr. Alexander, and walked painfully over to the door. He pulled it open, then looked back at me.
'I'm not finished with you, Taylor.'
'I know,' I said. In the future, you will be one of my Enemies, and try to kill me, for the good of the Nightside.
And that was it, really. We all had a nice sit-down and a chat with the new and improved Mr. Alexander, who
couldn't do enough for us. He even presented all of us with generous cheques of our own. Eamonn had to be persuaded to accept his, but Tommy and I had no problem with it. We certainly weren't going to be paid by anyone else.
'Don't you love a happy ending?' I said to Tommy.
'Well, it depends what you mean by happy, and by ending,' the existential detective began.
'Oh shut up,' I said.
We all said our good-byes to Mr. Alexander, and left the Widow's Mite building. Tommy and I escorted Eamonn back through the Nightside streets to the underground station, so he could finally return to London and his precious family. We did try to interest him in trying some of the Nightside's tamer delights, just for the experience, but he refused to be tempted. He was going home, and that was all he cared about. We finally stood together outside the entrance to the tube station.
'Well,' he said. 'It's been... interesting, I suppose. Thank you both for all your help. I don't know what I would have done without you. But I trust you'll forgive me if I say I hope I'll never see you again.'
'Lot of people feel that way about me,' I said, and Tommy nodded solemnly.
'It was strange,' said Eamonn. 'Seeing all those other mes, the people I used to be, and the men I might have become. They were all very passionate about who they were, and what they wanted, but none of them seemed particularly happy, did they? I'm happy, in my quiet little life. I have my Andrea, and my children; and perhaps that's what true happiness is. Knowing what really matters to you.'
He smiled briefly, insisted on shaking hands one last time, then he went down the steps into the Underground, and in a moment he was lost to sight among the crowd-a man going home, like so many others.
'There goes, perhaps, the wisest of us all,' I said to Tommy, and he nodded. I considered him thoughtfully. 'I
am planning a trip through Time, all the way back to the very beginnings of the Nightside. We seem to work well enough together. If I can talk Old Father Time into this, would you like to come along?'
'What's the catch?' said Tommy.
I had to smile. 'The catch? The catch is, it's hideously dangerous, and we'll probably end up killed!'
'Ah,' said Tommy Oblivion. 'The usual.'
Five -
The Nightside is a dark and dangerous place, but I've always felt at home there, like I belonged. If only as one more monster among many. So it came as something of a surprise to me when Tommy Oblivion and I went walking through the crowded streets and found the tenor of the times was definitely changing. The crowd was jittery, like cattle before a thunderstorm, and the air was hot and close as a fever room. The raised voices of the club barkers and the come-on men sounded that little bit more desperate, and everywhere I looked the Merchants of Doom-the shabby men with burning eyes, preaching and prophesying and bellowing their proclamations of Bad Times coming- were out in force. One man barged sullenly through the crowds, wearing a sandwich board with the message the end bloody well is nigh. I had to smile. Many of
the self-styled prophets recognized me, and made the sign of the cross at me. Some made the sign of the extremely cross, and shook hand-made charms and fetishes at me.
And then the crowd immediately ahead suddenly scattered, falling back every which way as a manhole cover slid jerkily to one side. Thick blue smoke belched up from underneath the street, lying low and heavy on the ground like early-morning mist. People recoiled from the stench, coughing and rubbing at smarting eyes. Even at a distance the smell was distressing, dark and organic, like dead things pushing their way up out of newly turned earth. And up out of the manhole squeezed and crawled a whole series of faintly glowing creatures, so twisted and misshapen it was hard to be sure they were even all the same species. Their flesh was a grubby white shot with raised purple veins, mobile and half-melting, slipping and sliding around their underlying structure. They might have been human once, long ago, but now the only real resemblance left was in their puffy faces, blue- white like spoiled cheese and speckled with rot. Their eyes were huge and dark, and they did not blink. More and more of them spilled out onto the pavement, and everywhere people pushed back to give them plenty of room. And every single one of these creatures headed straight for me.
I stood my ground. I had a reputation to maintain, and besides, it's never wise to turn your back on an unknown enemy. They looked too soft and squishy to do me any real harm, but I didn't underestimate them either. Defenceless things don't tend to last long in the Nightside, and these things looked like they'd been around for a
