Simon Green - Property of a Lady Faire

It walked alone at the Ball too. It went where it wanted, because no one dared turn it away, but it was always unwelcome. Certainly no one at the Ball wanted anything to do with it. The Last of Leng was a broad, hunched figure, its hooded head thrusting out before it, dressed in poison green robes, with long rags and tatters trailing out behind it. The hood was pulled well forward, to hide the face in impenetrable shadows. Just looking at the lurking figure made my skin crawl. I couldn’t believe even the Lady Faire would have had . . . intimate knowledge of something as physically and spiritually foul as the Last of Leng.

I kept moving, hugging the walls of the massive Ballroom. I was careful to avoid the Vodyanoi Brothers, because they knew me as Shaman Bond. They’d currently retreated to a far corner, snarling at everyone. Sergei kept fingering the nose that had grown back, as though afraid it might fall off. Every now and again, they would call out to some passing waiter or waitress, for food or drink, but the staff was all careful to ignore the two werewolves. Until finally the Vodyanoi Brothers jumped on a waiter who’d strayed too close, pulled him down, and loudly announced their intention of eating him. They glared happily about them, defying anyone to stop them. Which was all the excuse I needed.

I used the Head of Security comm channel to send out a general call ordering my security people to remove the Vodyanoi Brothers. At once, by force, by any means necessary. And then throw them out of the Winter Palace. Invitations revoked. Security people descended on the Vodyanoi Brothers from all directions at once, the guests falling back to give them room to operate. But not so far that they couldn’t see what was happening. The security men and women quickly surrounded the Vodyanoi Brothers, who both turned wolf and glared defiantly about them. They sank their claws into the whimpering waiter, refusing to give him up. The white-uniformed security people closed in, and hit the Vodyanois with a dozen Tasers at once.

Electricity spat and sparked loudly on the air, and all the silver grey fur stood on end. It might take silver to kill a werewolf, but Tasers will still shock the shit out of it quite successfully. If you use enough of them, and keep your finger on the trigger.

Gregor and Sergei Vodyanoi convulsed violently, shaking and shuddering as they were forced back into their human shapes. They let go of the waiter, who was quickly dragged away. The security people shocked them some more, just on general principles, and then shut down their Tasers and moved in to give the Vodyanois a good kicking. The two twitching bodies were then dragged away.

Most of the guests applauded.

One of the security men came diffidently forward to report to me. “The problem has been dealt with, sir. Any further orders, sir?”

“Put them outside,” I growled. Just to make sure. “Let them walk home.”

“Of course, sir.”

He hurried away. I was pretty sure the Vodyanoi Brothers would turn up again, somewhere. They were harder to kill than cockroaches.

I continued moving around the perimeter of the Ballroom, keeping an eye on everyone and everything, still waiting for the Lady Faire to show her face. The only person in the Winter Palace I knew for sure knew what the Lazarus Stone looked like. As Head of Security, it shouldn’t be too difficult for me to lure her away and make her take me to it. And I was curious to see what she looked like . . .

The guests had quickly recovered from seeing the security forces in action. Most were chatting quite cheerfully about it. The Bride and Springheel Jack were dancing with Dead Boy and a costumed adventurer from the Nightside, one Ms. Fate. No doubt exchanging gossip, swapping barbed bons mots, and discussing the possibility of getting together later. The Lady Alice Underground was swapping brittle smiles with Tommy Oblivion, the existential private eye, who specialised in cases that may or may not have actually occurred. He might or might not have slept with the Lady Faire; he probably couldn’t be sure himself. The Replicated Meme of Saint Sebastian were keeping to themselves, and everyone else let them. The Last of Leng had got into a staring contest with a Yeti that looked like it could go on for some time. And everyone danced and chattered, ate and drank, and threw occasional tantrums . . . as they waited for the guest of honour to appear.

I kept moving, doing my best to appear inconspicuous, or at least not worth paying attention to.

And then I spotted Molly. She was wearing the French maid outfit, all stiff starched black and white with unnecessary bows, moving easily among the guests as just another waitress, offering a selection of smoked nibbles from her silver platter. Presumably to give her an excuse to get close to people, and listen in on their conversations. In the hope of finding someone who knew what and where the Lazarus Stone was. She looked . . . pretty damned good in the outfit. She had once offered to send off for a French maid outfit by mail order, but in the end I chickened out and said I wouldn’t wear it.

Molly turned her head suddenly and looked right at me. She didn’t smile, or even drop me a wink, before turning deliberately away and moving on. I made a point of moving off in the opposite direction.

Clearly neither of us was any closer to discovering the Lazarus Stone. And I wasn’t sure how much time we had left before one or the other of us said or did the wrong thing and was discovered.

I finished a complete circle of the Ballroom, and stopped to look around me. If the Lady Faire didn’t deign to turn up soon, I’d have to leave the Ballroom and go looking for her. Which presented its own difficulties. I still had no idea what she looked like, and it wasn’t like I could ask anybody. The one thing everyone in this place had in common was that they all knew their hostess.

I moved back the way I’d come, passing a group of several leaders of small countries, and some who were now ex-leaders, all in deep conversation. Many were actually deadly enemies out in the real world, but here at least they seemed quite comfortable in one another’s company. Several very well-known film stars had attracted their own circles of admirers. Every now and again the admirers would lose interest in their star and look away, hoping for the arrival of the Lady Faire, and then the film stars’ smiles would vanish in a moment, reappearing only when their admirers’ attention returned to them.

A butch dyke dressed only in assorted leather straps, a noted supporter of conservative family values in the real world, was dancing with Something from a Black Lagoon. An ex-pope who was supposed to have been safely dead for some time was dancing the Argentinean tango with an alien Grey. I passed by the Replicated Meme of Saint Sebastian, and they all made a point of turning their backs on me.

And then the Bride and Springheel Jack walked past me, and the Bride did her best to hide a double take as she recognised me. She might not be able to see my face through my security mask, but her more than normal eyes could See my torc. The Bride hurried Springheel Jack along. His face didn’t change at all as he glanced at me. He did look like he wanted to ask the Bride a whole bunch of questions, but she just kept him moving. When a woman that big has you by the arm, you move.

I would have worried about them, but I was distracted almost immediately, because I had to move quickly to interrupt a fight between Jimmy Thunder and the Living Shroud. It seemed the Living Shroud had tried to cut in with Ms. Fate, and Ms. Fate had declined. The dead thing had insisted, and the Norse godling was now towering over it with Mjolnir in his hand. Jimmy never could resist being chivalrous when there was a young lady to impress. Everyone fell back as Jimmy told the Living Shroud to get lost, in a loud and carrying voice. The empty grave trappings stood its ground, trembling with anger, dropping cobwebs and dead spiders all over the floor. A cold malevolence emanated from the Living Shroud, like bad spiritual radiation. Jimmy shuddered abruptly, and looked briefly uncertain, and then he grabbed a handful of the Shroud’s grave wrappings, to pull it closer. The rags just rotted and fell apart in the godling’s hand, and he pulled a disgusted face. The Living Shroud slapped Jimmy Thunder across the face with an empty sleeve, and the sheer power in the blow sent Jimmy’s head whipping round. There was definitely something solid inside the grave wrappings. Jimmy Thunder roared with anger and raised Mjolnir on high. All the watching guests leaned forward, eager to see some serious smiting.