Simon Green - The Bride Wore Black Leather

“Are you sure there isn’t anyone else?”

“Not who can do what he can do. And you’re really not too popular in the Nightside right now, boss. We have to work with what we can get. What’s so bad about Den-Den, anyway? I mean, apart from the obvious. He knows his ghosts.”

“Did he ever tell you why he was kicked out of the Carnacki Institute?” I said. “Tell her, Den-Den.”

“For having sex with ghosts,” said Dennis, quite proudly.

“Can I just say Oh ick! in a loud and carrying voice?” said Cathy. “How is that even possible?”

Dennis sniggered until I glared at him, and he stopped. “Best not to ask, dear,” he said to Cathy, smiling happily. “Not at all the kind of thing you want to talk about in public.” He looked me up and down, still rubbing his hands together, considering how best to squeeze money out of me. “Welcome to my humble establishment, Mr. Taylor, yes . . . Make yourself at home, do. See anything you like? All wery tasty, wery clean, and all at wery reasonable prices, I assure you.”

“You even hint to anyone we were ever here,” said Cathy, “and I will burn this place down around your ears.”

“Oh, I believe you,” Dennis said immediately. “Mr. Taylor’s reputation isn’t the only one that proceeds him, you little minx, you. You can rely on old Den-Den not to breathe a word, oh yes. I have no problems with Mr. Taylor’s being here! No! Anyone capable of seeing off Julien Advent is clearly a man to be reckoned with. A man on the way up, heading for greatness. I always knew you had it in you, Mr. Taylor. If you’re looking for new members of a new Authorities, once you’ve finished off the others, I would of course be wery honoured . . . I am a man of refined character and a wery successful business man . . .”

“No you’re not,” said Cathy. “You’re a sleazoid with delusions of grandeur who does mucky things with ghosts. Don’t you go getting ideas above your station.”

“Well, if you’re not here to see me in my position as a business man, then why?” said Dennis, apparently entirely unmoved by Cathy’s fierce words.

“Because you were trained by the Carnacki Institute,” I said.

“You did talk to ghosts, as a field agent, didn’t you?” said Cathy. “When you weren’t trying to touch them inappropriately.”

Dennis sniggered again. “Those so-called sophisticates running the organisation never did approve of me. Even though I got results no-one else could. Bunch of prudes and Puritans, the lot of them, my dears. Some of us are a little more open to the more interesting opportunities to be found in life and death. Still, what can you expect from an organisation that takes its name from a man who cared more about the dead than he ever did about the living?”

He stopped talking abruptly as I fixed him with a cold, hard stare. “I was trained by old Carnacki himself, back when I was starting out,” I said. “He was a good man. One more word from you against him, and I will rip the soul right out of you and send it screaming down into Hell.”

Dennis looked at me uneasily. He wasn’t sure I could actually do that; but he wasn’t sure I couldn’t, either. There are a lot of stories about me running round the Nightside, and I make it a point never to confirm or deny any of them. Because you never know when they might come in handy.

Dennis scowled, then forced his face back into its usual smarmy good nature. “A splendid fellow, that Mr. Carnacki! A most knowledgeable man, yes. I’ve always said so! Certainly he had enough integrity to walk away from the Institute that bears his name when it let him down.”

“So he did,” I said. “Now, Den-Den . . . I have need of your assistance.”

“But of course, Mr. Taylor! You know me! Always happy to help out . . .”

“I need you to come with me, right now,” I said. “To talk to a ghost, on my behalf.”

“But . . . but . . . I can’t simply leave the club!” said Dennis. “Not . . . just like that!”

“There must be somebody here who can run the place while you nip out for a minute,” said Cathy. “Isn’t there anyone here you can trust?”

“Please,” said Dennis. “Remember where you are.”

“It’s up to you,” I said. “Either you come along with us, right now, or Cathy can sing a quick chorus of There’ll be a hot time in the old town tonight . . .”

“I’ll be right with you,” said Dennis. “I knew I should have signed up for fire insurance when I had the chance . . . Let me talk to somebody.”

“If I even think you’re running for the back door, I will make your knee-caps disappear,” I said.

“Mr. Taylor! You wound me!”

“Almost certainly,” I said.

Dennis sleazed away to talk with the tall, cadaverous figure behind the nasty-looking bar, while I looked thoughtfully at Cathy.

“When, exactly, did you acquire this reputation for aggressive pyromania? Did I miss something?”

“Almost certainly,” said Cathy. “You know how it is, boss; you’re out on the town with a few friends, drinking it up; you’re young, you’ve got incendiaries . . . shit happens.”

Perhaps fortunately, Dennis came back at that moment, giving us both his best professional smile. “All arranged, my dears! Now let us get this all over and done with. Maurice will look after things, in my hopefully short absence. He’ll cheat me on the take, no doubt about it, but better to lose some than all by having to close up. No-one appreciates the trials and tribulations of the honest business man.”

“Least of all you,” I agreed. I held his gaze firmly with mine. “If I ever find out you’re holding any of these ghost girls against their will . . .”

Dennis came as close to real laughter as he dared. “Do me a favour, Mr. Taylor! They come to me! They ask for this. Every girl working here is a volunteer. They need the life-force they suck out of the punters every night, to hold themselves together. To maintain their grip on this world. You couldn’t make them leave here if you tried. Couldn’t drive them out, with bell, book, and candle. This is their club, Mr. Taylor; I get to run things for them. Of course, I also get a bit of the old rumpy pumpy, from time to time . . .”

“Oh, ick !” said Cathy, firmly.

Dennis sniggered. “Every job has its perks, my dears. Can I help it if I like my ectoplasm cold?”

We all clambered into Cathy’s MINI Cooper and headed off into the Nightside rather more swiftly than I was comfortable with. Dennis enjoyed the trip immensely, waving his podgy fingers out the window at people he recognised though most of them chose not to recognise him. If nothing else, he made a great distraction. I thought hard about what I was going to do when I revisited the hole in the ground that was all that was left of the Hawk’s Wind Bar & Grille. I also kept a watchful eye on Cathy and Dennis. I wasn’t too concerned about dear old Den-Den. You always knew where you were with him. He didn’t care that I’d killed Julien Advent because he didn’t care about anyone. He’d back-stab me for the reward in a moment, given half a chance, but we both knew he didn’t have the balls to do it to my face. He’d do whatever I told him, in the hope of favours to call on, further down the line. But Cathy . . . worried me. Why hadn’t she fallen under the influence of the Sun King? Like Suzie had? I couldn’t ask Cathy. I didn’t want her to think I didn’t trust her.

When we finally pulled up alongside the great hole in the ground where the Bar used to be, it all looked exactly as it had before. Big and ugly and completely lacking in any supernatural energies. We all got out of the MINI Cooper, moved over to the edge of the hole, and stared down into it. No difference at all. Just a hole, where something marvellous used to be. Something about the scene bothered me, and I realised it was the quiet. I looked quickly about me. Most of the watching crowd had disappeared, gone in search of something more interesting to look at. Never any lack of that to be had, in the Nightside. And . . . “Why aren’t there any naked people here?” I said suddenly.