Simon Green - The Bride Wore Black Leather

Tommy nodded and gave me his best disappointed look. Larry looked at me as though this was what he’d always expected of me.

“How did you find me so quickly?” I said.

“We are detectives,” said Larry.

“Good song,” said Tommy.

“Shut up, Tommy!”

“Is Hadleigh with you?” I said.

“The Detective Inspectre is apparently busy,” said Larry, trying to keep the distaste out of his voice, and not even coming close.

“Oh good,” I said. “I thought I might be in trouble, for a moment.”

“Now you’re just being nasty,” said Tommy.

Larry stared coldly at me. “Put up a fight, Taylor. Go on. Give me an excuse to stamp your arrogant murderous face into the floor.”

“I always wondered how a good man like Julien Advent could survive in a place like this,” said Tommy. “But I never thought you’d be the one to finish him off, John.”

“I can explain,” I said, but they were already shaking their heads.

“Don’t,” said Tommy. “Please, John. Don’t lower yourself.”

“You’d say anything,” said Larry. “And we don’t care enough to listen. This is for the Great Victorian Adventurer; you bastard.”

He brought up his hand, and suddenly there was an elven wand pointing right at me. Larry Oblivion stabbed the wand at me, then frowned, when nothing happened. He stabbed the wand at me again, a little less confidently, and slowly lowered the wand as I smiled at him.

“I took precautions to protect myself against that thing the moment I discovered you had it,” I said. “I always knew you’d find a reason to turn on me, someday. And I always knew a lot more about elves than you ever did.”

Larry said something quietly obscene and made the wand disappear again. Tommy seized the moment and stepped forward. He smiled engagingly at me.

“Come, let us reason together . . .”

“Let’s not,” I said, very firmly. “Because you are the existential private eye, who can persuade anyone of anything. Who could talk the hind leg off a donkey, then use it to club the poor beast’s head in. I have extensive mental training, from when I was a young man learning my craft with old Carnacki; but even so, I don’t feel I want to test that training against your unnatural gift. So don’t try it on with me, Tommy Oblivion, or I will punch you right in the throat.”

And all the time I was speaking my mind, and the Oblivion brothers were listening to me, I was edging closer to the nearest bookshelf. I couldn’t hide my movements from them, but as long as I was still talking and not running, they stayed where they were. Confident that they were blocking the way to the exit. But I wasn’t thinking about running. Not yet. I grabbed the nearest book, feeling it squirm in my hand, and threw it at Larry. He flinched away as the book swooped angrily about his head, flapping its leather covers like stiff wings. Tommy cried out piteously and put both hands up to protect his head. He’d always had a thing about anything getting in his hair.

Larry grabbed the book out of mid air, holding it firmly with both hands. The book fought him, struggling fiercely, strange energies sparking and spitting on the air around it; but Larry was dead, and the book couldn’t hurt him. He forced the book closed with his dead strength and pushed it firmly back into its proper gap on the shelf. He then backed quickly away, while all the books on that shelf vied to make the loudest and most obscene noises of defiance. Larry smiled briefly.

“I may be dead, but I still have my reflexes. Tommy, will you please put your hands down! The danger, what there was of it, has quite definitely passed.”

And while they were both distracted by all of that, I slipped behind the bookshelf, put my shoulder to the wooden frame, and threw all my strength and weight against it. The bookshelf resisted, but I insisted, and with a lurch and a groan the whole bookshelf tilted to one side, then fell onto Tommy and Larry Oblivion. They both looked round to see it coming, but not in time to do anything about it. The heavy weight of the packed bookshelves slammed down onto both of them, throwing them to the floor and pinning them there. Tommy cried out piteously again. Larry didn’t. He had his pride. And besides, unlike Tommy, he was dead and therefore felt no pain.

When I was sure they were both safely pinned to the floor, I moved forward to smile down at them.

“You bastard,” said Larry.

“Takes one to know one,” I said. “Now, will you listen to me?”

Larry turned his head slowly to look at Tommy. “Can you move?”

“Not in the least. Haven’t got any leverage to work with. You?”

“No.” Larry looked up at me. “All right. What have you got to say for yourself, you murderous little shit?”

I explained the circumstances of Julien Advent’s death in some detail, making sure they understood about the Sun King, and what he was planning to do while everyone was distracted running after me. When I was finished, Larry looked at Tommy.

“Do you believe him?”

“Stranger things have happened,” said Tommy.

“Our enemies have always profited by turning us against each other,” said Larry.

“And if the Sun King is the one responsible for Julien’s death, I want his heart’s blood,” said Tommy.

“You always were the vicious one in the family,” Larry said fondly.

I looked at them both thoughtfully. “You’re both being very reasonable. Don’t you feel the Sun King’s power, pressing on you not to believe me?”

“No,” said Larry. “I have to say . . . I don’t feel as utterly convinced of your guilt as I did before. Could be the Library’s defences, protecting us from the Sun King’s influence. And, of course, we are more resistant than most. Tommy being existential, and me being dead.”

“It affected Dead Boy,” I said.

Larry sniffed loudly. “That boy’s brains have been leaking out his ears for years. I’m amazed he can still put one foot in front of the other without consulting a manual. All right, say we do believe in you. That you were framed by the Sun King. How do we find the bastard?”

“My gift can’t find him anywhere,” I said. “He’s either protected by his power or by that of the Entities.”

“That leaves simple deduction,” said Larry. “We are supposed to be detectives, after all. Where would he go, in the Nightside? What would he see as a weak spot? What would he most easily recognise, or be drawn to, in the Nightside?”

“The Hawk’s Wind Bar & Grille!” Tommy said immediately. “The Sun King is a child of the sixties, right? And what’s most representative of that period here? The Bar! And being a ghost of its former self would make it a weak spot in reality! God I’m good.”

“The Hawk’s Wind disappeared recently,” said Larry. “I can’t believe that’s a coincidence. Get this thing off us, Taylor. We’re going with you.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, and I meant it. “But no, you’re not. You could fall under the Sun King’s influence the moment you leave the Library and attack me again. But I think you’re right about the Bar. Too many unanswered questions there. How did he make it disappear? Where has he sent it? Why is it so important to him? I thought it must be because the sixties incarnation of Julien Advent was in there at the time . . .”

“He is?” said Tommy.

“Call yourself a detective?” I said, not unkindly. “There has to be a connection, between the Sun King and Julien Advent and the Hawk’s Wind; but I’m not seeing it yet. I’m afraid you two are going to have to work your own way out while I get on with the job. Once you are out, if you can fight off the Sun King’s influence, it would be a help if you could intercept Razor Eddie and Dead Boy and keep them busy while I work.”