“Better get a move on, Harry,” said the voice inside his head. “Do what you can, while you can. The clock is ticking.”
Harry turned his back on the room, and walked back down the stairs.
He hurried along Uptown’s empty streets, and all the time the angel murmured suggestions of terrible things he could do. Harry closed his mind and his heart to the angel and kept going. He might be possessed, but he was in control. Because he had been careful to drink half the holy water from St Jude’s before he went anywhere near the club. The angel could say what she liked, but he would do what he would do.
He went looking for people. The angel wanted him to find Droods, but he didn’t listen. Instead, he found a place where the Droods had already passed through, leaving behind buildings on fire, wreckage and rubble, and any number of wounded people. They sat in the street beside the dead and the dying, sobbing and traumatised, unable to help themselves or anyone else. So Harry walked among them and did his best to help.
He did what he could for the wounded and comforted the distressed with words of hope. He dug down through collapsed buildings to rescue people trapped underneath. He cleared wreckage out of the road, so people could leave and ambulances could get through. He worked tirelessly, and through his actions inspired others to do what they could. They dug people out of the wreckage, put out fires, and worked alongside Harry without ever knowing who and what he was. He liked that. He did his good works anonymously, using his new strength to do the things no one else could. And all the time the angel screamed and raged helplessly within him.
Harry smiled to himself and kept working.
But eventually, as the hours wore on, even though Harry’s body didn’t grow tired, his will did. The angel’s voice grew louder and louder, until he could barely hear his own thoughts. He knew that eventually the angel would take control of him and use the strength in his body to do terrible things. So he excused himself to the people around him, saying he needed a break. Everyone nodded understandingly because he had done more than all of them put together.
Harry moved off down a side street, made sure no one was watching, and produced a simple black capsule. Guaranteed to provide a way out, for people who’d had enough of life. He’d been assured it was powerful enough to drop a T Rex in its tracks. Harry dry-swallowed the capsule with only a little difficulty, then sat down in the street and put his back to the wall. Because he didn’t want to look undignified, at the end.
“What are you doing?” the angel screamed inside his head.
“Killing myself,” Harry said calmly. “Rather than let you hurt anyone. That was always my plan. To use the strength you gave me to help people I’d put in danger because I helped the Droods. And then to deny you any triumph, through one last willing sacrifice. How does it feel to be conned, the way you conned me?”
The Fallen angel burst out of him and was immediately sucked down into Hell, screaming all the way. It couldn’t stay inside a dying body, but there was no pentacle to protect it any more. And Hell could be very hard on those who failed it. Harry allowed himself a small smile. It had been a good con, a good last deal to go out on. He hoped he’d finally done enough to atone for what he did.
A new light filled the alley as an angel appeared before him. Not the Fallen kind, this time. She stood before him, winged and shining, glorious and magnificent, smiling benevolently.
“We have met before,” she said, in a voice like all the music Harry had ever loved in his youth. “Though you wouldn’t know me in this form. I was called Pretty Poison then, but like you, I did penance and found a better way.”
“I remember the name,” Harry said slowly. “But you’ve left it a bit late to look me up. I’m dying.”
“No, Harry,” the angel said kindly. “You’re dead. But you mustn’t worry. You’re not damned; you never were. There is no sin without intent, and you thought you were doing a good thing. The Fallen angel lied to you. It’s what they do. And all your years of penance have wiped the slate clean for everything else you did. So I’m here to take you home. Come with me, Harry. To Paradise.”
Harry realised he was standing up, facing the angel. He looked back and saw his body sitting slumped against the wall. It looked very small now, without him in it. He turned back to the angel.
“I’m ready.”
Sometime later, when people came looking for him, they weren’t that surprised to find him dead. Because he had worked so very hard for so long. But they did wonder at the contented smile on his face.
* * *
• • •
John Taylor and Suzie Shooter were on their way to Strangefellows when John’s phone rang. He stopped to answer it. Listened, nodded reluctantly, scowled, and put it away. He chose another direction and strode off. Suzie went with him.
“Brilliant Chang has a mission for us,” said John. “He wants us to go to Shadow Deep.”
“I’m sort of hoping there’s another Shadow Deep that isn’t the one I’m thinking of,” said Suzie. “Apart from the really nasty prison where the Nightside dumps its most dangerous prisoners.”
“No,” said John. “That’s the one. That’s where we’re going.”
“I’ve spent most of my life trying to stay out of Shadow Deep,” said Suzie. “I’d hate to spoil my record now.”
John looked at her. “You must know I would never have let them hold you there. I would have come and got you.”
“You would have defied the Authorities, for me?”
“Of course.”
“Well,” said Suzie. “That’s good to know. And I would have come for you, of course.”
“Of course,” said John. “It should be an interesting visit. I’ve always wondered if Shadow Deep really is as bad as it’s supposed to be.”
“You are sure you can get us out again, afterwards?” said Suzie.
“Don’t worry. Brilliant Chang’s arranged everything.”
“Why are we going?” asked Suzie. “Are the Authorities planning to use it as a last hiding-place, where even the Droods wouldn’t dare come looking?”
“A nice idea, but no. Brilliant Chang has given us a very special mission. Which I’m not going to tell you about now because if I did, you wouldn’t come with me.”
“Oh, this can only go well,” said Suzie.
* * *
• • •
Sunk deep beneath the bed-rock of the Nightside, far away from civilisation and half-way to Hell, lies the awful prison known as Shadow Deep. Constructed specifically to hold all the really dangerous prisoners that the Authorities can’t kill, for one reason or another. The only way to get down there is through the single official transport circle, maintained and operated by three witches in a small room over a really rough bar, the Jolly Cripple. John found the place easily enough: a shabby hole-in-the-wall establishment in a really down-market neighbourhood. The few people still out and about took one look at John and Suzie and slunk quickly off to hide. Because small predators can always recognise bigger ones.
The door to the Jolly Cripple was locked, so John kicked it in. He strode into the bar with Suzie at his side, only to find the gesture had been wasted on an empty room. The place was deserted, with half-empty glasses still standing around. The occupants must have heard that the Droods were coming. Or that John Taylor and Shotgun Suzie were on their way. John led the way to the back of the inn, then up the gloomy and decidedly sub-standard stairs to the next floor.
“I suppose the witches will still be here?” said Suzie. “Given that everyone else has run away.”
“They’ll be here,” said John. “Their presence is required, to make sure no one can get in or out of Shadow Deep without official permission. And even the Droods would think twice about messing with these particular witches. They’re old school.”
“You’ve been here before,” said Suzie.
“Jus
t the once,” said John. “Henry brought me, back when he was preparing me to take over from him as Walker. He thought I should know about this in case I ever needed to send somebody down.”
He found the right door on the top floor and strode in without knocking. The three witches were waiting for him, striking traditional witchy poses around the great circle marked out on the floor. Three bent-over hags in tattered clothes with hooked noses, clawed hands, and a sprinkling of warts. They cackled loudly as John and Suzie came to a halt before them.
“Knock it off!” said John. “We’re not tourists.”
One of the witches straightened up. “Well, pardon us for breathing. Someone has to keep up the old traditions. I mean, people expect it of us, darling. We are professionals, after all.”
“Why haven’t you left?” Suzie said bluntly. “Don’t you know that the Droods are on their way?”
The witch sniffed haughtily. “Let them come. We’ll send them on their way with a flea in their ear. Or possibly somewhere much worse. We are here because the Higher Powers require it. The Droods would have better luck arguing with the force of gravity. Now, what do you want, darlings?”
“We have been authorised by Brilliant Chang to access Shadow Deep,” said John.
“Well, we didn’t think you’d come here to admire the ambience,” said the witch. “Just show us the proper paper-work, and . . .”
“Papers? We don’t need no stinking papers!” Suzie said loudly.
“Right,” said John. “I’m Walker. So get on with it.”
“No one cares about proper procedure any more,” said the witch. She turned to the others. “Oh well . . . hubble bubble, girls, and all that.”
The three witches went through a series of surprisingly spry limbering-up exercises. Suzie looked at the circle on the floor and turned up her nose.
“What is that smell . . .”
“The circle is laid down fresh every day, in a mixture of chalk, sulphur, and semen,” said John.
Suzie looked at him. “And you know this how?”
“Henry told me. He liked knowing details like that.”
“I’ll bet he did.”
The three witches finally did the business, with a minimum of chanting and arcane gestures, and the circle began to glow. John and Suzie stepped inside and were sent down, all the way down, to Shadow Deep.
* * *
• • •
They arrived in complete and utter darkness. John and Suzie reached out to each other automatically and linked hands. Not because they were frightened but to reassure each other they were still there. Slow, heavy footsteps approached out of the dark, drawing steadily closer, until a pair of night-vision goggles were suddenly thrust into each of their hands. When John and Suzie finally fumbled the goggles into place, Shadow Deep appeared before them as dim green images and impenetrable shadows. They were in a circular stone chamber, with an uncomfortably low roof and only the one exit. Before them stood a clay golem, rough and bulky, with a completely smooth face.
“Prison staff,” John explained. “Set to follow simple preprogrammed routines.”
Suzie scowled at the golem. “Why doesn’t it have a face? I don’t trust anything that doesn’t have a face.”
“Down here it doesn’t need one,” said John.
The golem turned abruptly and stomped away. John and Suzie followed it out of the chamber and through a series of featureless stone tunnels, until finally the golem lurched to a halt in front of a closed door. The golem knocked once, so hard the door shuddered in its frame, then turned and stomped away. Suzie looked at John.
“Governor’s office,” he said. “The only human staff down here. He’s serving time, just like the prisoners. Only under somewhat better conditions. Brace yourself; he’s the only one allowed light in this place.”
He pushed open the door, and dazzlingly bright light spilled out into the corridor, overwhelming the night-vision goggles. John and Suzie tore them off and hurried inside. John slammed the door shut, and they looked around them, blinking into the pleasant glow. The large room was packed with all of life’s necessities and quite a few comforts because the Governor rarely got to leave it. He was already hurrying forward to greet his guests, a large well-padded fellow in an old-fashioned suit that looked more than a little scruffy because he had no reason to look good for anyone. He stuck out his hand to John, beaming all over his round face.
“Hello, hello! So good to see you! Good to see anyone, really; I don’t get many visitors down here.”
John and Suzie suffered their hands to be shaken, then gave the Governor a hard look to make it clear they were there on business. He just shrugged and went on smiling.
“Sorry, sorry . . . It’s just that I’ve been down here so long, I’ve forgotten most of the social niceties. If Brilliant Chang hadn’t warned me you were on the way, I’d still be in my dressing-gown . . .”
“How long have you been here?” said Suzie.
“Since Walker put me here? The previous Walker, I mean . . . I stopped counting. It was starting to obsess me. It’s not like I’ve got a release date to look forward to. It’s been years. Years and years and years . . .”
“Don’t start feeling sorry for him,” John said to Suzie. “If you knew why Henry put him here, you’d think he was being merciful.”
“Oh, he was!” said the Governor. “Don’t think I’m not grateful! Mostly.”
“I didn’t think Henry did mercy,” said Suzie.
“He certainly had his own definition,” said John. He looked sternly at the Governor. “Brilliant did tell you why we’re here? We need to see the prisoners.”
The Governor stopped smiling. “You really think that’s a good idea? You do know what happens to people when they get sent here? The moment a prisoner arrives in the reception area, he is marched to his waiting cell by a golem, without benefit of night-vision goggles, then pushed inside. Some try to fight, but the golem is always stronger. The door to the cell is then nailed shut. Because Shadow Deep is forever. They’re left to sit in the dark, and the quiet, on their own. Food and water are shoved through a narrow gap at the bottom of the door by the golems, so they never have anyone to talk with. No visitors, no care packages, no time off for good behaviour. They’re here till they die.”
Suzie frowned. “What about . . .”
“There’s a grille in the floor,” said the Governor.
“Makes you wonder why any of them are still alive,” said John.
“Most aren’t,” the Governor said blithely. “Of course, there are some who just won’t die. Like Shock Headed Peter. Nasty bastard. The Authorities executed him three times, but it wouldn’t take, so they sent him down here and washed their hands of him. Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
“Brilliant Chang didn’t tell you?” said John.
“No one tells me anything they don’t have to,” said the Governor.
“The Authorities have decided to open Shadow Deep,” said John. “Release all the inmates and set them against the Droods. Freedom, in return for service. For those who survive the war.”
The Governor stared at him, shocked. “Are things really that bad?”
“Yes,” said John. “How many prisoners do you have here?”
“Well . . . At the moment, just two.”
John and Suzie looked at the Governor.
“All this, for just two prisoners?” said Suzie.
“We don’t get many,” the Governor said defensively. “I mean, you have to be really bad, even for the Nightside, to qualify for Shadow Deep. And most of those who do end up here don’t tend to last long. In the dark and the silence. I think it’s the lack of hope that does it for most of them. They hear their door being nailed shut and immediately start thinking about the only sure way out of here. We only know who’s alive by keeping track of the
meals we provide. And we don’t check them that often.
“So! At the moment we only have two prisoners. An ex-detective, Sam Warren, who killed a bunch of people and ate them, to acquire their special abilities.”
“A detective?” said John. “How . . .”
The Governor shrugged. “I didn’t ask. I never do. And then, of course, we have Shock Headed Peter. Do people still talk about him in the Nightside? He killed three hundred and forty-seven people. We think. They never did find any of the victims’ bodies, just their clothes. Sam and Peter. If you want them, they’re yours.”
“We’ll take them,” said John. “Then throw them at the Droods and hope for the best. And, Brilliant told me that you are also free to go, Governor. Your time is up.”
The Governor was so surprised he burst into tears of pure joy. He threw his arms around John and hugged him tightly, looked at Suzie, and thought better of it, then danced around his room shouting, “Thank you, thank you!” After a while he calmed down and wiped the tears from his eyes.
“Walker promised me this wouldn’t be forever, and that kept me going, but I’ve been here for so long . . . It’s hard to think of living anywhere else. Though I’m damned if I’ll let that stop me . . .”
“Do you want to take anything with you?” said John.
“There’s nothing here I’ll miss,” said the Governor. “Nothing that wouldn’t bring back memories. So . . . to hell with all of it. Come on; let’s go free the prisoners, then we can all get the hell out of here.” He stopped, and looked thoughtfully at John. “You are sure you can handle them? I mean, Sam Warren does have powers, and Shock Headed Peter . . .”
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