Hex and the City

by Simon R. Green

  “You’re scared of my mother,” I said.

  “I’m not scared of you, John Taylor. When I kill you here, and make you one of my army, I close the only doorway through which your mother might return to rule the Nightside and spoil all our fun. We shall be safe again.”

  I glanced round at my companions, just to make sure they were still there, then lifted my chin and gave the Lamentation my best confident look. If you’re going to bluff, bluff big. “You really think you can take the four of us? You do know who and what we are?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said the Lamentation, its voice slowly fading away, as though it was losing interest. “You are in my place, and in my power. I will show you things, awful things, until you kill yourselves rather than have to see them. And then you will rise again, trapped in your dead bodies, to serve me forever, with no will in you but mine. And your suffering will sustain me for centuries.”

  There was a pause, then Madman laughed cheerfully, and the mood was broken. Sinner was shaking his head, too.

  “What can you show us, you caged freak? I am Sinner, and I have known the secrets of the Pit.”

  “I am Pretty Poison, a demon of the Inferno.”

  “I’m Madman, and I have seen the Truth.”

  “And I,” I said, “am John Taylor; and you wouldn’t believe the shit I’ve seen. So bring it on, Lamentation. Bring it all on.”

  The Lamentation shook and rattled its cage again, and now its voice was a shrill inhuman scream. “Kill them! Kill them all!”

  The dead came surging forward out of the bloodred mists, moving quickly but without grace, cold bodies forced on by an inhuman will. They had no weapons, only the endless implacable strength of the dead and the overwhelming numbers to drag us down. They came from every direction at once, reaching out with pale, clawed hands. But they couldn’t seem to find Madman. They stumbled all around him, striking out at anyone but him, while he looked sadly back at them, unmoving. Pretty Poison was already tearing a path through the dead, flashing back and forth impossibly quick, laughing loudly as she tore the dead bodies limb from limb and trampled the twitching pieces under her feet. Chunks of unliving flesh flew through the air, tossed about with glee, and the overwhelming numbers meant nothing to her. Pretty Poison was enjoying herself. Sinner watched her, frowning, but did nothing to try to stop her. The dead surrounded him, their hands bumping uselessly against him, unable to harm a man that Heaven and Hell had already forsworn.

  I took a bag of salt from an inside pocket and sprinkled a wide circle around me. The dead couldn’t cross the salt, so they circled round and round me, clawing clumsily with their empty hands, driven forward even as the salt forced them back. My heart pounded painfully fast as I turned around and around, constantly checking that the salt circle remained unbroken. I was breathing so fast I was practically hyperventilating. I really didn’t like this. None of my tricks or magics were strong enough to hold back a whole army of the living dead. I called out to the others, but they were too far away to help. And then I looked into the unblinking eyes of the dead faces lunging at me from every side, and all I saw in them was suffering. None of this was their idea. They only ever moved in obedience to the will of their master; slaves to the Lamentation. They had killed themselves with the last little bit of their courage, hoping to be free from the pains and obligations of their unbearable lives, only to find themselves eternally bound to something far worse. No peace for the dead here, no rest for those who had been, briefly, wicked.

  And the more I thought about that, the angrier I got. I’ve known what it feels like, when your whole life hurts so much that you’re ready to die, just for the pain to stop. A little less stubbornness, a little more resolve at certain moments, and I might have been one of these poor trapped souls…What kind of a place had we made of the Nightside, where even the dead weren’t allowed to rest in peace? My anger burned through me like a cold flame, clearing my head and calming my racing heart. I fired up my gift, and my third eye, my private eye, opened deep in my mind, allowing me to find and identify the link between the dead and their master. My eyesight lurched, and suddenly I could See a tracework of glimmering silver lines, rising from the tops of the corpses’ heads and trailing away back to the Lamentation in its cage; the strings by which it manipulated its puppets. And powered by my anger and outrage, it was the easiest thing in the world for me to reach out with my mind and sever all those silver cords in a single moment.

  The dead froze where they stood, stopped in mid-movement and even mid-lunge. There was a new feeling in the Mausoleum, as though an endless tension had finally snapped. The Lamentation screamed, a horrible inhuman sound that rasped through the great hall like a saw through flesh. And one by one the dead bodies dropped to the floor and lay still, as their souls burst up out of them like incandescent stars, blasting out of their rotten husks, rising up and up, free at last. They blazed brightly in that dark place, then were gone, to wherever they should have gone long ago.

  I’ve never believed all suicides go to Hell. God has more mercy than that.

  The last of the souls departed, and my Sight returned to normal. I looked about me. The blood-tinged mists were gone. Sinner and Pretty Poison and even Madman were staring around in a puzzled way. The dead were piled up all around us, and none of them so much as twitched. The oppressive atmosphere of despair and horror that had permeated the great hall was already fading away like a bad dream, because there was no longer anything here to be scared of. We looked down the empty hall at where the Lamentation had been. The black iron cage was already falling apart, the metal bars cracking and dissolving in showers of black rust. And lying at the bottom of the cage, under the criss-crossed bars, stripped of all power, a naked man and woman clutched each other desperately, weeping angry tears of shock and loss. No longer joined, no longer a Power, no longer that vicious old Being called the Lamentation. Whatever they had done to themselves, or caused to be done, it was over now. Must have been hard on them, to be just human again, after so long. I did think about killing them, but I had no reason to be merciful. I turned my back on them and nodded to my companions.

  “Time we were going,” I said. “I think we’ve learned all we’re going to here.”

  “What about…them?” said Sinner.

  “Wait till the word gets out,” I said. “That they are human again, and defenceless. Then they’ll learn what suffering really is. Lot of people in the Nightside have old unfinished business, for loved ones lost and enslaved.”

  “You can’t just leave us here like this!” howled a voice from the dissolving cage. It could have been the man or the woman. “You’re supposed to be the great hero of the Nightside! You can’t just abandon us!”

  “Watch me,” I said.

  I led the way out of the great hall, and my companions followed me without comment. The hall was already breaking down, disappearing in bits and pieces as the magic that sustained it leaked away. Soon enough the old rooms would return, with all the old memories of what was done there by the Maxwell family. And then maybe, in that old atmosphere of torture and despair and death, the man and woman who had once been the Lamentation might see no other way out than to take their own lives. I smiled at the thought. I could live with that.

  Why don’t the dead lie still? Because in the Nightside there are always Powers and Dominations ready to make use of them.

  We stepped out of the Maxwell Mausoleum, and the perverse atmosphere of Freak Fair was like a breath of fresh air. Until I noticed that all of Walker’s watchers seemed to have disappeared, along with everyone else. The street was deserted. All the doors around us were firmly shut, and there wasn’t a light showing at a window anywhere.

  “Why are you scowling?” said Sinner. “It’s always a really bad sign when you start scowling. And Madman’s sound track has gone all tense again.”

  “It looks like Walker has withdrawn his people and closed off the area,” I said. “And he wouldn’t do that unless he had somet
hing really nasty planned and didn’t want any witnesses. And given the kinds of horrible things I’ve known him do in front of whole crowds of people, this new caution does not bode well for us.”

  We all huddled together for protection, even Madman, and did our best to look in every direction at once. I could have used a break after taking down the Lamentation, but that’s Walker for you—always strike when your enemy is weakest. The street remained empty, the busy sounds of city life sounding very far away. Could Walker really know already that I’d destroyed the Lamentation? Had that been the final straw that made him decide I was too dangerous to be allowed to live? Was he finally ready to have me killed, after all these years?

  Did he know that I knew about his part in my mother’s return?

  It could be that the Authorities had given him no choice in this. Had ordered him to stop me getting any closer to answers that might upset their precious status quo. He had tried to warn me of that possibility, back at the Londinium Club. And as I thought that, I knew who was out there, watching and waiting for just the right moment to make her entrance. Who it had to be.

  From out of the shadows that cloaked the end of the street came the sudden sound of expensive shoes click-clacking on the pavement. We all turned to look, and from out of the dark Bad Penny came swaying down the street towards us. Bold and brassy, that sweet sensation, death on high heels and loving it, the sexiest, most voluptuous assassin of them all. She was still wearing the classic little black dress she’d somehow crammed herself into at the Londinium Club, but now there were splashes of blood across the front of it, and more standing out starkly against the shimmering white of her elbow-length evening gloves. She came to a halt a sensible distance away from us and favoured us all with a dazzling smile. Down by one thrusting hip she carried a set of blood-flecked antlers in her hand.

  “Hello, John,” she said, in a voice that promised absolutely everything that’s bad for you. “Journeys end in lovers’ meetings. And your journey ends right here.”

  “We were never lovers,” I said firmly. “I’m not entirely sure what we were, but lovers is definitely not the word. So Walker’s finally given you the go-ahead, has he?”

  She raised one perfect eyebrow. “You already know I’m working for Walker? Of course you do. I was forgetting; you’re John Taylor. You know everything.”

  “Not necessarily,” I said. “Where did you get those antlers, Penny?”

  “From Herne the Hunter, after I killed him,” Bad Penny said lightly. “Walker wanted Herne made an example of, to anyone else who might be considering answering any of your questions. Oh, don’t look so sad, darling! He was a very old god, and his time was over. I can’t abide people who outstay their welcome. And there’s no greater sin than insisting on being unfashionable.”

  She dropped the antlers carelessly to the ground, and they made only the briefest of sounds in the quiet. Not much of an end for a once powerful god.

  “I bear a message from Walker,” said Bad Penny, falling naturally into a provocative pose. “The Authorities really are frightfully keen that you abandon this case, right here. Turn back now, go no further, do not collect two hundred pounds. Or else.”

  “Am I to presume that you’re the or else?” I said.

  “Got it in one! I do hope you’re going to do the sensible thing for once in your life, sweetie. What’s so wrong with wanting things to stay the way they are? I’ve always been a great supporter of the status quo, if only because it continues to supply me with so many good business opportunities. There’s always money to be made out of murder, and a girl has to eat.”

  “And if I refuse?” I said.

  “Like I said, darling—there’s always money to be made out of murder.”

  “You’d kill me, after what we had between us?”

  “Because of what we had between us! No-one walks out on me, honey.”

  “Would I be right in thinking there’s a history between you two?” said Sinner. “You do get around, don’t you, Jack?”

  “Shut up,” I said.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new friends, John?” said Bad Penny, spreading her smile generously around her.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Walker didn’t brief you? Or haven’t you reported in recently? You always were slack when it came to doing the research on a case. Well, this is Sinner, and his girl-fiend Pretty Poison, and that is Madman. We’ve just destroyed the Lamentation.”

  “Oh dear,” said Bad Penny. “How sad. Fallen in with bad company again, I see. What am I going to do with you, John? I know! I’ll kill you right here and now. And just to keep everything neat and tidy, your friends can die with you.” She turned her powerful smile on Sinner. “You disapprove of John, don’t you? How sweet. Perhaps you’d like to break his neck for me? I’d really like that. In fact, I’d like it if you all beat each other to death, right in front of me.”

  And just like that, she was suddenly the most attractive woman in the world. Her sexuality blazed like someone had just opened a furnace door. Her presence filled the street, impossible to look away from, impossible to resist. To see her was to want her, to need her, more than life itself. I had my gift, and Bad Penny had hers. She had become the woman you’d do anything for, including murder. Her greatest weapon had always been herself. No-one could resist her body, once she’d turned it up to eleven. Except…for all our special abilities, Sinner and Madman and I were just men, while Pretty Poison was a demon succubus from Hell.

  “Amateur,” she said.

  And just like that, the spell was broken. Bad Penny’s glamour snapped off, and she was just another really good-looking woman with a bit of a weight problem. She looked at us, open-mouthed, absolutely dumbfounded. I don’t think anyone had ever broken her spell that easily, that casually, before. I smiled at her.

  “Nice try, Penny. But I have been there, and done that, and, to be honest, I’ve known better.”

  She stamped one high-heeled foot, said a few baby swear words, and suddenly she had two really big guns in her white-gloved hands. She opened fire at point-blank range, the explosions deafeningly loud, but I was already moving. I knew how she operated. And yet even as I dodged and ducked, it was clear she wasn’t just targeting me. We all had to die, so no-one would ever be told about the failure of her glamour. And that…was a mistake. If she’d concentrated on me, she might have got somewhere. I’m fast, and I’m tricky, but I’m not bullet-proof.

  The bullets couldn’t even find Madman. He just stood there, blinking owlishly, his mind on other things, while bullets ricocheted from the wall behind him. I wasn’t sure what damage bullets could do to a demon succubus, but Sinner didn’t wait to find out. He stepped quickly forward, to stand between his love and Bad Penny, and the bullets thudded into his chest over and over again, to no obvious effect. Bad Penny blinked a few times, then shot him in the head. That didn’t help, so she kicked his feet out from under him. He crashed onto his back, and Bad Penny targeted Pretty Poison. I grabbed Bad Penny from behind, pinioning her arms, and she bent sharply forward at the waist and threw me right over her head. I hit the ground hard, but kept rolling. Bullets smashed into the ground where I’d been. Sinner was back on his feet and advancing on Bad Penny. She emptied her guns into him, going for all the most vulnerable points, but he didn’t even flinch as the bullets punched into him. No blood flowed. Like Cain before him, he bore the mark of his offence on his brow, and nothing of this world could ever really harm him again. He stopped right in front of Bad Penny, and she put her last bullet right through his left eye.

  “Ouch,” Sinner said dryly. There was only the slightest of pauses before his eyeball rebuilt itself, then he gargled and spat the bullet out into his palm. He offered it to Bad Penny. “Yours, I believe.”

  She snarled prettily, made her guns disappear, and snatched two silver knives out of nowhere. She buried them both up to the hilt in his chest. They were magical weapons, scored with ancient runes, one cursed and one blessed.
I’d known gods who would have died from an attack like that. Sinner just stood there and took it. I felt like applauding. Bad Penny folded her arms over her impressive chest and pouted.

  “Now that’s just not fair, darling.”

  “Step aside, Sidney,” said Pretty Poison, at Sinner’s shoulder. “I have business with this woman. Very nasty business.”

  “No,” said Sinner.

  “She tried to kill you, my darling! I can’t allow that to go unpunished. It’s not in my nature.”

  “You came up out of Hell to be with me, in order to change your nature. Remember?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “Hush,” said Sinner, and the demon succubus hushed, for the moment.

  Bad Penny poked out her tongue at Pretty Poison, then smiled hopefully at Sinner. “If you’re not actually going to kill me, darling, could I please have my knives back? They are family heirlooms, and Daddy would be furious if I lost them.”

  Sinner tugged the blades out of his chest with some effort and handed them back in a gentlemanly way. Bad Penny accepted the knives, glanced briefly in my direction to see if she still had a chance of picking me off, decided she hadn’t, and made the knives disappear. I came forward to join her.

  “What are we going to do with you, Penny?” I said. “We can’t just let you go. You’d only carry on following us, looking for another good place to ambush us, with better weapons. You’re like me; you never give up on a case.”

  “I am nothing like you, John Taylor! I have style.”

  Faster than any of us could react, Pretty Poison surged forward, grabbed Bad Penny by the throat and bent her over backwards. Penny squealed and struggled furiously, but couldn’t break the succubus’s hold. Pretty Poison’s fingers now ended in claws, and her widely smiling mouth was packed full of pointed teeth. The red lips were very close to Penny’s neck, and she didn’t look like an English public school girl any more. She looked like what she was, a demon spat up from Hell.