of Thorns made his way up from the World Beneath and came to St. Jude’s. To hide.
“You have to understand,” he said, as the Vision faded from my mind. “When Lilith appeared, I thought I’d finally discovered my true purpose, my reason for being in the Nightside. That this was my destiny—to stop Lilith when no-one else could. But I was wrong. I was nothing, next to her. After so many years of judging others, I was judged… and found unworthy.”
“But… you’re one of the greatest Powers in the Nightside!”
“Not compared to her. I forgot… in the end I’m just a man, blessed with God’s power. And my faith… was nothing compared to her certainty.”
“All right,” I said. “We need backup. Can we use St. Jude’s to call for Heavenly help? For direct divine intervention?”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?” said the Lord of Thorns. “The Nightside was expressly designed from its first conception so that neither Heaven nor Hell could intervene directly. And it was decided long ago in the Courts of the Holy that this Great Experiment would be allowed to continue, to see where it would lead. I was placed here to Oversee the Experiment, to keep it on track. But now that the Nightside’s creator has returned, it seems my time and my purpose are at an end. There will be no outside help. The Nightside must save itself. If it can.”
“There is a resistance,” I said. “Come with me. You can be a part of it.”
But the Lord of Thorns just sat where he was, shaking his grey head. “No. I am not who I thought I was. So I will stay here and pray for guidance.”
I tried to argue with him, but I don’t think he really heard me. Lilith broke him when she broke his staff. So I left what was once the most feared man in the Nightside, sitting mumbling to himself, in the one place he still felt safe.
I went outside and found myself facing a crowd of hard-faced and heavily armed individuals. Their expressions lit up at the sight of me, and not in a good way. At their head stood Sandra Chance, resplendent in her thick crimson swirls of liquid latex and not much else. Though the old-fashioned pistol holstered on her bare hip was a new addition. She grinned at me, very unpleasantly. I looked at Tommy Oblivion, who was standing very very still, with his back pressed against the wall of the church.
“Sorry, old sport,” he said miserably. “Didn’t even hear them coming. Just popped out of nowhere.”
“Have you at least asked them what they want?” I said.
“Oh, I’m pretty sure they want to speak to you, John. In fact, they were most insistent on it being a surprise.”
“It’s all right, Tommy,” I said, trying to hide the fact that internally I was hyperventilating. “I know who they are. They’re bounty hunters. How did you find me here, Sandra?”
“I can get answers from the dead, remember?” She was still smiling, not at all pleasantly. “And there are a lot of dead up and about just at the moment. The dead know many things that are hidden from the living. They have… an overview. And I can get them to tell me anything.”
“Yes,” I said. “And I know how. It’s one thing to love the dead, but you take it far too literally. You coffin chaser, you.”
“Am I understanding this correctly?” said Tommy. “You mean she actually…”
“Oh yes,” I said.
“Now that’s just tacky. I can’t believe I shared a picnic with her.”
“Shut up, Tommy,” said Sandra, not taking her eyes off me.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, there is a War going on,” I said. “This really isn’t the time…”
“There’s always a war going on somewhere in the Nightside,” said Sandra. “You should know—you’ve started your fair share of them. My associates and I have decided that we don’t care. We want the reward on your head. It’s a really big reward; one of the biggest bounties ever posted in the Nightside. The very well connected families of the thirteen Reasonable Men you slaughtered want you dead, John, and they don’t care how much it costs them. There’s enough money on the table to buy all of us a way out of the Nightside and into some distant dimension where even Lilith can’t reach. And still leave enough cold cash for all of us to live like royalty, in our new home. So, revenge, escape, and all our dreams come true. In return for your head, preferably no longer connected to your body. See how neatly it all works out?”
“I thought you said you owed me,” I said carefully. “For saving your life in the Necropolis graveyard?”
“Whatever small debt I may have owed you, I more than paid it off being a good soldier for Walker and defending the Nightside during your absence. I want you dead, John. I can’t even breathe easily while you’re still among the living. You murdered my sweet Saint of Suffering, my beloved Lamentation. You have to pay for that. I put together this little band of bounty hunters, some of the very best in the business, just so I could be sure you wouldn’t dodge your death this time. Try your little bag of tricks against professionals, Taylor, and see where it gets you.”
She had a point. I considered the dozen or so bounty hunters fanned out in a wide semicircle before me, covering all the possible escape routes. Most were vaguely familiar faces, and three of them were actually famous, almost in a class with Suzie Shooter herself. At least she wasn’t here. Then I really would have been in trouble. The tall scarecrow figure in Sally Army cast-offs was Dominic Flipside, a short-range teleporter. Frighteningly quick and sneaky, you never knew from which direction he’d come at you next. Whispering Ivy was a rogue anima from Wales, made up entirely from flowers and thorns, an ever-shifting montage of natural forms in the vague shape of a woman. When she moved, it sounded like the whispering of owls. And Cold Harald, dressed as always in the starkest black and white, with a mind like a calculating machine. He always worked the odds, his logic unclouded by any trace of emotion or humanity. He held a machine pistol in each hand and looked like he knew how to use them. Any one of these three would have worried me, but all of them together… and Sandra Chance… I thought about running back into the church and screaming for sanctuary, but I knew I’d never make the second step.
“Don’t even think about the church,” said Sandra. “Or we’ll shoot your friend.”
Tommy looked at her, hurt. “After we worked together, such a short time ago? Have you no shame? You wound me, madam.”
“If you don’t shut up, I’ll wound you somewhere really painful,” said Sandra. “It’s up to you, Taylor. Surrender, and we’ll make it quick. You can go out with some dignity, at least. Make us work for your head, and we’ll all take turns expressing our displeasure on your helpless body.”
“Come and take it,” I said. “If you can.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” said Sandra Chance. “Remember, people, do what you like to the body but don’t damage the head. Our patrons won’t pay up unless the face is unquestionably his. I think they want to take turns pissing on it. Otherwise, anything goes.”
Tommy Oblivion stepped forwards. He’d always been a lot braver than people gave him credit for. His gift manifested very subtly on the air, making his words seem the very epitome of reasonableness and good sense.
“Come,” he said warmly, his arms reaching out to embrace everyone. “Let us reason together…”
“Let’s not,” said Cold Harald, in his flat, clipped voice, and he shot Tommy half a dozen times in the stomach. Tommy staggered back under the impact, slamming up against the church wall, then slid slowly down it until he was sitting on the ground. The whole bottom half of his ruffled shirt was slick with blood.
“Oh dear,” he said quietly. “Oh dear.” He bit his lip against the pain, and I could see him trying to concentrate, trying to raise his gift, so he could find a possibility where the bullets hadn’t hit him. But his face was already white and beaded with sweat, his breathing hurried and shallow. I could feel his gift sparking on and off, but pain and stress were getting in the way of his concentration.
I couldn’t expect any help from him. I was on my own.
I palmed an incendiary from out of my sleeve and tossed it into the midst of the advancing bounty hunters. Fire and smoke exploded noisily, and two of the bounty hunters fell broken and bleeding to the ground. The rest scattered. Dominic Flipside giggled, a long knife suddenly in each hand, then he disappeared, air rushing in to fill the space where he’d been. I felt as much as heard him reappear almost immediately behind me, and spun round, one arm raised. He cut me open from wrist to elbow, and disappeared again. Blood soaked the length of my coat sleeve.
Cold Harald stepped forward, raising both machine pistols to target me. Dominic Flipside was already gone.
