Tales From the Nightside

by Simon R. Green

  I mean, vampires? That’s so old-school.

  I’d never seen so many of the nasty things in one place before. No wonder people in Strangefellows had been saying they hadn’t seen any vampires recently. Varney had taken them all underground. And they’d never looked this dangerous before. He’d inspired them. No-one takes vampires seriously in the Nightside because they’ve been slapped down so many times. They’d learned to seem not so terrible, to keep their heads down, so they’d be tolerated. Overlooked. Until the King of the Vampires came back, to tell them it was their time come round at last.

  I was surrounded. The vampires ran in circles around me, scurrying up and down the curving walls, scuttling across the ceiling over my head, scrambling on the floor on all fours, circling me and circling me, darting in close, then back again, to see what I would do. Raking the air with their clawed hands, showing me their teeth, taunting me. But for the moment, they held back. Because they knew my reputation. And they didn’t know what I might have hidden up my sleeve.

  “Welcome to my home, and to my family, Mr. Taylor,” said Varney. His voice was sounding less and less human all the time. “Do you understand at last why you are here? Why I let you in? Because the Adventurers aren’t the only ones who appreciate the pleasure of the hunt. To us, you are the Big Game, Mr. Taylor!”

  For once, I had nothing to say.

  Varney giggled suddenly; but it was only a sound, with no real humour in it. “Time for you to see what will become of you, Mr. Taylor. My children will drag you down and hold you, and I will bite you. And then I shall send you forth, with the Adventurers. To lead my army out into the Nightside. We will run riot in your streets, tear out the throats and drain the blood of everyone we meet. Turn you into us. Until all that moves in this marvellous, endless night will be undead. Forever and ever and ever. And there’s nothing you can do to stop it, Mr. Taylor. See . . . what you will be.”

  He gestured, and the vampires behind him fell back, hugging the stone walls, as Varney’s possessed came forward. They moved slowly, stumbling, unsure of themselves. The abducted and bewitched Members of the Adventurers Club. Dulled in their minds, broken in their wills. I saw familiar faces: Julien Advent, Chandra Singh, Augusta Moon. Except there was no-one there, behind those uncertain eyes, those terribly fixed stares. They had been overwhelmed, made over into slaves to the Vampire King. I hoped . . . they didn’t know what had been done to them. What they were doing, and what they would be made to do. If part of them was still alive, trapped inside and screaming helplessly, that would be so cruel.

  So it was probably true. Vampires thrive on cruelty.

  One small hope—they were, all of them, filthy dirty, and stained with fresh blood. Which suggested I was seeing them as they really were. Still human. If they’d been turned, made into actual vampires, they would have hidden behind their own glamours, like the things hanging from the ceiling and the walls. The Adventurers were still human, which meant . . . they were salvageable. They weren’t a lost cause. I could still do something. If only I could work out what.

  Varney must have seen the new strength and hope in my face; and he didn’t like it.

  “If you won’t bend to my will, Mr. Taylor, you must be made to bend the knee and bare the throat. By force.”

  “Not going to happen,” I said.

  He laughed, breathlessly. “Surrender; and keep what is left of your dignity, Mr. Taylor. You won’t enjoy the alternative.”

  “Stop using my name,” I said. “You don’t know me. You don’t know me at all.”

  I produced my two incendiary devices, primed them, and threw them into the tunnel ahead of me. They exploded together, filling the tunnel with blazing flames and fierce light, blasting vampires right off the walls and ceiling. Many of them burst into flames and ran squealing and howling back and forth, leaving fiery trails behind them to set others alight. The fires ate them up even as they moved. Two pounds of white phosphorus doesn’t mess around. And all of them cried out and flinched back from the unexpected light, covering their faces with their hands.

  Apart from Varney. Who stood his ground, unmoved and unaffected.

  He didn’t say a word, didn’t move a muscle; but suddenly all the other vampires were flying at me, throwing themselves through the fires and the flaring light. I pulled on a pair of studded silver knuckle-dusters, personally blessed by the Archbishop of Canterbury. A vampire reared up before me, all bared fangs and reaching, clawed fingers. I punched him in the face with my knuckle-dusters, so hard my fist slammed right through his features, smashing teeth and bones. I pulled my hand out of his head, and he fell back, screaming. But I could already hear his bones creaking and cracking as his face rebuilt itself.

  I pulled a packet of garlic powder out of my pocket, broke it open, and scattered the contents around me, till I was surrounded by a protective circle. Another packet, to fill the air around me with a cloud of garlic dust. And the vampires that had been closing in on me fell back at once, hissing and spitting and crying out, as the garlic poisoned their unnatural systems. The protection would only last until the last of the garlic powder fell out of the air, but it should buy me some precious moments. To think and plan.

  And still Varney stood right where he was, watching me with his dark, unblinking eyes, unmoved and unworried by anything I’d done.

  I went to the last trick I still had up my sleeve. The one advantage Varney didn’t know about, and couldn’t anticipate. I used my gift, to find the door I’d come in by. The door Varney had made vanish. Except, of course, he hadn’t. My gift found the door immediately, standing right behind me, where it had always been. Hidden behind a glamour. I turned to leave through the door, and all the vampires fell on me at once. Screaming in pain and horror as they forced their way through the garlic, and the terrible things it did to them, driven on, by their master’s will.

  I lashed about me with my knuckle-dusters, vampire faces and bodies cracking and collapsing under the impact. But I could only hit them one at a time. The vampires swarmed all over me, trying to drag me down through sheer force and weight of numbers. They grabbed me and clung to me even as I fought then off. Clawed hands ripped through my trench coat as though it were paper and scored bloody wounds in the flesh beneath. Jaws snapped shut, just short of my eyes and face and neck, as I surged desperately this way and that. I fought fiercely, fear lending me new strength. I threw vampires away from me, smashed in their skulls, stamped them hysterically under my feet. Forcing my way forward, inch by inch, towards the waiting door.

  But there were so many of them.

  Fires were still burning, further down the tunnel, casting strange, warped shadows on the walls, leaping and dancing. Too far off to do me any good. Vampires forced their way through the last of the garlic cloud to get to me even as their faces melted and ran away. And the controlled Adventurers lurched steadily forward, coming for me. To drag me down and hold me, so Varney could sink his filthy teeth in my neck and make me one of them.

  Razor-sharp clawed fingers tore deep into my flesh, again and again, and I cried out despite myself. They were trying to madden me with pain, drive me back and forth like a bull in a bull-ring. My blood splashed on the tunnel floor, and the sight and smell of it excited and maddened the vampires. They hit me hard, from every direction at once. Until I couldn’t tell one hurt from another, any more.

  I pulled out the crucifix my old teacher Pew had given me, so many years ago. He always said it was special. I thrust it out, into the faces of my attackers; and the small wooden cross blazed with light, intolerably bright. The vampires let me go, falling back from the cross, crying out and turning their heads away. The whole length of the tunnel, vampires shouted and howled and backed away. The light was so fierce I couldn’t bear to look at it myself. I held the crucifix out at arm’s length, and looked for the door. It was right in front of me. A vampire clinging to the ceiling right above me struck down savagely, raking my forehead with a clawed finger, opening up a long
, jagged wound. Blood coursed down, filling my eyes. I brushed it away with my ragged sleeve, and thrust the cross up into the vampire’s gut. It exploded, splashing rot and corruption everywhere.

  The tunnel was full of screams. Some of them might have been mine.

  I hit the door with my empty hand, but it didn’t open. There wasn’t any handle. I looked back. Varney was still standing where he had been, looking at me. And if the light from the crucifix bothered him, he hid it well. I turned my back on him, giving all my attention to the door. I hit it with my shoulder, and it didn’t budge. I hit it with the hand holding the crucifix, slamming it against the door like a battering ram, and it flew open. I burst through, stumbling out into the night, and the door slammed shut behind me.

  • • •

  I turned around and stabbed Pew’s cross into the wood of the door. It sank in half its length; and stuck there, quivering. Still glowing, though not as fiercely. I fell back a few steps, not taking my eyes off the door. It didn’t open. I couldn’t hear anything moving behind it. Pew’s cross was holding them back. For now. I sat down suddenly on the sidewalk, as the last strength went out of my legs.

  I sat there, shuddering. I hurt all over. My white trench coat was soaked in blood. I found a handkerchief and pressed it against the deep gouge in my forehead to keep the blood from running down into my eyes. People passing by gave me plenty of room, not looking at me, or the door. And I sat there, breathing hard. Waiting for a second wind that seemed a long time coming. I smiled briefly. Must be getting old. I used to be able to take a beating.

  My head was swimming, and I had to concentrate hard to bring my thoughts into focus. I couldn’t simply sit there. Had to do something. The case wasn’t over just because I’d found out what happened to the missing Adventurers. I still had a lot to do. There were still good men and women waiting to be saved. It hurt like hell, getting my mobile phone out of my inside pocket. And it took a while before I could make my numbed and bloody fingers punch out the right number. I sat there, and waited, while the phone rang and rang; until finally someone picked up at the other end.

  “Suzie?” I said. “John. I’m in trouble. Can you come and get me?”

  FOUR

  I sat slumped on the sidewalk, in the ragged remains of my trench coat, in a spreading pool of my own blood. My back almost but not quite touching the closed door to the Vampire Club. I couldn’t hear, but I could feel, the army of vampires trapped behind the door; pressing against the wood, tearing into it with their clawed hands, trying to force it open. So they could get out and get me. But all their unnatural strength was nothing against the influence of old Pew’s cross. He had put a lot of work into that down the years. To make it into a conduit and a focus for all the forces of Good, from outside this world. It was supposed to be his graduation present to me; but then he found out who my mother was and called me an Abomination. So I walked out, taking the cross with me. I thought I was owed, and he always said it would come in handy someday. Pew—old teacher, old friend, old enemy. Gone now, all these years. It disturbed me that I hadn’t even thought of him in so long.

  I felt tired. Bone-deep, soul-deep tired. It seemed to me that I wasn’t hurting as badly as I had been. Not a good sign. It meant I was going into shock, growing numb as I bled out. I used to have a little werewolf in me, from an old case; enough to help me heal quickly . . . but that wore off long ago. I never get to hang on to anything that matters. It was a constant effort to keep from nodding off, because I knew that if I did, all these people who just happened to be casually passing by would notice. I could see them, edging closer. Trying to figure out how injured and damaged I was and whether it was safe yet for them to move in and rob me blind. Or kill me. There were a lot of people in the Nightside who’d been waiting for years for a chance to take me out while I was helpless.

  I checked myself over, as best I could. I was honestly shocked, at the sheer number of wounds and injuries I’d taken. The vampires had hit me from every side, and they’d hit me hard and hurt me deep. The trench coat that usually protected me had been torn to rags and ribbons, by the supernatural strength behind those filthy, ragged claws. Under Varney, the vampires had rediscovered their old strength and viciousness. I was torn apart everywhere, my flesh laid open, blood pouring out of me.

  I was in bad shape. Claws had sunk deep, muscles were ripped open, and tendons torn. I couldn’t feel or move my left hand, not even when I looked right at it. And my left leg was twitching convulsively, white bone showing clearly in the ragged red meat. Blood was still pulsing down my face from the gouge in my forehead, slowly sealing my right eye shut.

  I was so very tired; and my eyes kept closing, despite everything I could do to stay awake. I was actually starting to nod off when I felt a presence; and my eyes snapped open. I found myself face-to-face with a man leaning over me, caught in the act of reaching for my inside pockets. I met his gaze; and he froze where he was. He was wearing dentist’s whites, and a white leather gimp mask. His eyes widened, and he slowly pulled his hand back. He straightened up, then hesitated and looked at me hopefully, in case my eyes might shut again. I started to sit up a little straighter, and he turned and hurried away. I smiled, slightly. Blood welled out of my mouth, and ran down my chin. Beaten half to death, and I still had it. Good to know.

  My chin was just starting to descend onto my chest again when I heard a familiar sound approaching. A very individual car motor. I made myself look up; and there was Dead Boy’s futuristic car slamming its way through the Nightside traffic towards me. A gleaming silver bullet that radiated advanced technology and a complete contempt for all scientific laws. It looked like it would quite happily run over or straight through any other vehicle dumb enough to get in its way. Dead Boy’s always been a bit vague about how he acquired his car; I always supposed it fell off the back of a Timeslip.

  The car eased smoothly to a halt right in front of me, a door flew open, and Suzie Shooter stepped out. A tall blonde in black motorcycle leathers, adorned with rattling steel chains and gleaming steel studs, with twin bandoliers of bullets crossing her impressive chest. Finished off with knee-high boots, with steel toe-caps. Shotgun Suzie, the best bounty hunter in the Nightside, because she never bothered with all that bring them in alive nonsense. She had a striking face with a strong bone structure, a grim smile, and fierce, dark blue eyes. She looked at what had been done to me, and there was murder and mayhem in her face for whoever was responsible.

  My Suzie. My Valkyrie from Hell.

  The moment she stepped out of the car, everyone else took one look at her and stopped dead on the sidewalk. The sensible ones turned around and hurried off in the opposite direction. Suzie glared about her, just in case there was anyone in need of immediate punishment, and the remaining people just ran for it. Suzie didn’t say anything as she knelt beside me and checked me out with professional thoroughness. Her hands were as kind as they could be, but I still had to grit my teeth together to keep from crying out. She noticed. When she finally spoke, her voice was cold, and horribly determined.

  “Someone is going to pay for this. My love.”

  I found that comforting. It’s good to know there are some people you can always rely on, to stay the same.

  “Never mind that,” I growled. “Am I going to die?”

  “Not necessarily right now,” said Suzie. “As long as we get you professional help, and quickly. Who did you piss off this time? And why did you need me to come and pick you up? Why didn’t you use the Teleport in your pocket watch to get you out of here?”

  “Ah,” I said. “Sorry. I’m not . . . thinking as clearly as I should. I just knew, I needed you.”

  “Of course you did,” said Suzie.

  Dead Boy came strutting round from the other side of the car, his deep purple greatcoat flapping in the wind. He looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

  “Damn, John, you look like shit! I’ve taken less damage than that, and I’m dead!”

  It wa
sn’t that he didn’t care. Dead Boy was casual about my wounds because he’d been dead so long he didn’t remember what pain was like any more. But the sheer size of the pool of blood around me was enough to give even him pause. He looked quickly at Suzie, and she shook her head slightly.

  “Good of you to come,” I said to Dead Boy.

  “Oh, I’m only here because Suzie decided she needed a lift in a hurry, and I was the one who didn’t run away fast enough. You don’t argue with Suzie when she says she needs you to do something for her; not if you like having your major organs on the inside. They might not work any more, but I’m still sentimentally attached to them.” He stopped to look past me. “I don’t know if it matters, but the crucifix stuck in the door behind you appears to be on fire.”

  “Get me on my feet,” I said. “And then get me the hell out of here. It’s not safe here.”

  Suzie and Dead Boy took an arm each, and between them hauled me up onto my feet. And then they held me up till I got my balance. My legs shook, I still hurt every time I moved, and every time I breathed; but I was holding it together. For the moment. I turned, slowly and carefully, to look at Pew’s cross, where I’d stabbed it into the door. The wooden crucifix was charred and blackened, burning with an unnatural blood-red light.

  “All right, I’ll bite,” said Dead Boy. “What’s on the other side of that door?”

  “An army,” I said.

  “Let them come,” said Suzie. “I brought extra ammunition.”

  “No,” I said. “Not here; and not now. We have to leave, before they get out.”

  “Who?” said Dead Boy. “Before who gets out?”

  “Nightmares,” I said. “With teeth and claws.”

  Suzie and Dead Boy shared another look.