Simon Green - The Bride Wore Black Leather

The explosion was deafeningly loud on the quiet, and a great cloud of pulverised stone and earth filled the air. Bits of gravel rained down like shrapnel. And Razor Eddie came walking forward out of the dust cloud, like a wolf out of hiding. Untouched and unscathed, like the murderous force he was. I kept backing away, and he kept coming after me; and the ground between us erupted, as a rock golem, a clumsy, misshapen thing, twelve feet tall and more, with a featureless face and huge fists like mauls, rose out of the dark earth between us to confront him. It went for Razor Eddie, and he moved so quickly he was only a blur. His razor flashed like lightning, sparking on the air, everywhere at once. And when Razor Eddie stopped moving, the rock golem was gone, leaving only piles of scattered rock pieces to show where it had been. Very small, finely cut rock pieces. Razor Eddie smiled at me, and a cold hand clutched my heart.

I retreated further into the cemetery, being very careful where I put my feet, hiding among the looming mausoleums and family crypts. Razor Eddie came after me, cutting his way through a forest of tombstones and carving the sad faces off sculpted angels because they got in his way. I was still thinking furiously. I could have killed him. I’m pretty sure I could have found a way to kill him. Eddie had his razor, but I had all kinds of weapons, and a lifetime’s supply of dirty tricks. But he was still my friend, in his own strange, cold way, and I didn’t want to kill him. So I did what I always do, when I’m backed into a corner—improvise with extreme prejudice.

I goaded him into rushing me. “Getting old, Eddie! Getting soft and slow. Getting past it!”

He rushed forward as I finally stood my ground. And at the last moment I whipped off my white trench coat and threw it over Razor Eddie. It wrapped itself around him as he crashed to a halt, blinded and confused, fighting the coat’s enveloping folds and getting nowhere. Now, my coat has enough nasty magics and awful protections built into it that it could probably have won the fight on its own; but to be on the safe side, I picked up a chunk of stone that Eddie had sliced off a tombstone, and hit him over the head with it.

Eddie slumped to his knees, but he didn’t stop struggling, so I hit him again, putting all my strength and weight into it. The impact jarred my hand and arm painfully, and Eddie fell forward onto the ground between the graves and lay still. I took my coat back off him, and put it back on again.

“Don’t try and kid me you’re dead,” I said finally. “I might have rattled your brains a bit, Mr. high-and-mighty Punk God of the knife with attachment for getting stones out of horses’ hooves, but you don’t get taken out of the game that easily.”

I kicked his straight razor away from him, and his head came up immediately, to fix me with a cold dark glare. Blood ran thickly down the side of his face.

“Leave that alone!” he said. “Damn you, John. You only won by cheating, and you know it!”

“You always were a bad loser, Eddie,” I said. “The operative word is won . So I suggest you take a nice little rest until you’ve got all your marbles together again. Don’t try and follow me. Or I might have to do something more permanent to you.”

“I will find you!”

“No you won’t,” I said. “Good-bye, Eddie.”

I used my gift to find the tear he’d made in Space and Time with his razor, to let himself into the cemetery dimension. It was still there. I could See it clearly, hanging on the air over the gravel path. The wounds Razor Eddie makes in the world take time to heal. I moved quickly back between the graves and onto the path, pushed the sides of the gap apart, and squeezed up my eyes against the bright flare of light that fell through into the grey cemetery world. I looked back, just in time to see Razor Eddie stretch out one hand and the straight razor fly through the air to slap into his palm. Definitely time to be going. I stepped through the gap and back into the Nightside, letting the tear close behind me. I used my gift to find a way to close and seal it permanently, so he couldn’t come straight after me, and only then looked around to see where I’d ended up. I was pretty much where I’d expected, in the street outside the Necropolis itself. Ugly great building; a hulking brick monument to our continuing fascination with death.

I didn’t hear the car coming, but long years of experience surviving in the Nightside made me look round suddenly. And there, coming straight at me at speed, was the great shining silver bullet of Dead Boy’s futuristic car. I didn’t hear it approach because it had no wheels, floating serenely on super-scientific energy fields, and an engine that barely murmured at the best of times. I threw myself out of its way, and the car’s front bumper hit me a glancing blow as it shot past. The impact sent me sprawling, rolling over and over. I hit hard and took my time coming to a stop; afterwards I lay there, gasping for breath. My hip hurt like hell, but I didn’t think it was broken. And while I lay there, trying to get my thoughts back together again, the car swung smoothly round at the end of the street, moved unhurriedly back towards me, and stopped a respectful distance away. The driver’s door swung smoothly open, and Dead Boy lurched out, resplendent in his purple greatcoat with a black rose at the lapel. He sauntered down the street towards me, his face completely relaxed and utterly remorseless.

“My car has the best tracking systems in the world,” he said easily. “She knew where you were going to reappear before you did. I’ve been parked at the end of this street for ages, waiting for you to turn up. Killer.”

“It wasn’t like that!” I said, forcing myself up onto one knee, and checking myself over for damages.

“Oh please,” said Dead Boy. “Don’t embarrass yourself. I’ve heard the story of how Advent died too many times, from people I have every reason to trust. Julien Advent was a good man. He taught me about honour. He believed in me even though I was dead. He was always there for me . . . Even when you ran away from the Nightside and hid out in London Proper for all those years. He never abandoned me! He taught me how to live again!”

“I didn’t murder him,” I said, somehow clambering up onto my feet again. It had been a long day. I stood swaying before him, meeting his unwavering gaze with my own. “After all we’ve been through, after all the things we’ve faced together; can’t you trust me?”

“You?” said Dead Boy, and tired as I was, I had to admit he had a point.

He moved suddenly forward, crossing the intervening space between us in a moment. He took two good handfuls of my coat lapels and held me easily in the air with his unnatural strength. My feet kicked helplessly a good yard above the ground. I grabbed his wrists with my hands, but it was like gripping cold steel. I wrestled against his grip, but couldn’t break it. I let go, and punched him in the side of the head, with as much strength as the awkward angle would allow. I hurt my hand, but I didn’t hurt him.

He laughed at me. “Come on, John; you know better than that. I don’t feel pain. I don’t feel anything unless I take my special pills. But I think I will feel something when I kill you. I will feel something when I avenge Julien Advent.”

“He never could stand you,” I said.

He threw my against the wall behind me, on the other side of the street. I hit hard; and the world went away for a while. When it came back, I was lying in the middle of the road. My face hurt like hell, and blood was dripping from my mouth and nose. Dead Boy had been busy while I was away. I looked carefully around me, without raising my head. Dead Boy was standing over me, looking down the street towards his futuristic car. I was already recovering, but he didn’t know that. He didn’t know about the werewolf blood. He couldn’t know how quickly I could put myself back together again. Dead Boy laughed softly and looked down at me.