I nodded. It was clear Jeremiah didn’t know about Polly, and I wasn’t about to tell him.
“Why didn’t you tell me this was a costume party?” I said. “I feel rather out of place. It might even have been embarrassing if I was the kind who got embarrassed.”
“But you’re not,” said Jeremiah. “I needed you to come as you are so everyone would be sure to recognise you. I want them all to know you’re working for me. First, it makes it clear that I’m doing something about Melissa’s kidnapping. Second, the fact that I’m able to hire you, the infamous John Taylor, helps make me look strong and in command. Perception is everything, in business. And third, maybe your presence will be enough to provoke Melissa’s captors into making a move, at last. Have you found out anything yet?”
“Only that someone is really determined to keep me from finding out what’s going on,” I said. “And you already knew that.”
“Ah. Yes. That business in the conference room.” Jeremiah scowled at me. “You must hurry, Taylor. Time is running out.”
“For her?” I said. “Or for you?”
“Both.”
Suddenly, the doors to the ballroom slammed open with a deafening crash. Everyone turned to look, and a sudden hush fell across the party because there in the doorway, standing perfectly poised and at ease, was Walker. The man who currently ran the Nightside, inasmuch as anyone did, or could, because everyone else was too scared to challenge him. In the old days he was the voice of the Authorities, those grey shadowy men behind the scenes, but now they were dead and gone, and Walker was…The Man.
As always, he looked every inch the smart city gent, in his expensively cut suit, old school tie, and bowler hat. Calm, relaxed, and always very, very dangerous. He had to be in his sixties now, his trim figure yielding just a little to gravity and good living, but he still radiated confidence and quiet power. His face seemed younger, but his eyes were old. Walker represented authority now, if not actually law and order; and he did so love to make an entrance.
He looked round the ballroom, smiling politely, taking his time. Letting everyone get a good look at him. He had come alone into the lair of his enemies, and I had to wonder whom he could call on for support, now. There was a time when he could have summoned armies to back him up, from the military and the church, courtesy of the Authorities. But would those armies still come now if he called? They might—this was Walker, after all. A man who knew many things, not all of them good or lawful or healthy.
The crowd fell back to allow Jeremiah to walk unhurriedly through it to confront Walker. Walker smiled easily and let the most powerful businessman in the Nightside come to him. I moved quickly after Jeremiah. I wasn’t going to miss this. Jeremiah came to a stop before Walker, looked him up and down, and snorted dismissively. Walker nodded politely.
“You’ve got a nerve coming here, Walker,” said Jeremiah. “Into my house, my home, uninvited!”
“I go where I’m needed, Jeremiah,” said Walker, his calm voice carrying clearly on the quiet. “You know that. Nice place you’ve got here. Good security systems, too. State-of-the-art. But you should have known even they wouldn’t be enough to keep me out when I want in. Still, not to worry; I haven’t come to haul you away in chains. Not this time. I’ve come to take someone else away, to answer for their crimes.”
“Everyone present in this room is a guest of mine,” Jeremiah said immediately. “And therefore under my personal protection. You can’t lay a finger on any of them.”
“Oh, I think you’ll want me to take this person away,” said Walker, still smiling, entirely unmoved by the Griffin’s open defiance. “They really have been very naughty.”
He looked round the ballroom, and any number of people quailed under his glance, because after all…this was Walker, and they all had something to feel guilty about.
Jeremiah snapped a Word of Power, and his security came bursting right out of the ballroom walls—huge grey golems twice the size of a man, with fists like mauls. There was a great commotion among the guests as they scrambled to get out of the golems’ way. The ugly grey things crashed through the artificial rose garden, destroying the hedges and the bushes, intent on their prey. One guest didn’t get out of their way fast enough, and the golems trampled him underfoot, ignoring his screams. The floor shook under their heavy tread as they closed in on Walker.
He stood his ground, entirely casual and at his ease. He waited till they were almost upon him, and then he used his Voice on them. The Voice that cannot be disobeyed.
“Go away,” Walker said to the golems. “Go back where you came from, and don’t bother me again.”
The golems stopped as one in a great crash of heavy feet, then they all turned and walked back through the party and disappeared into the ballroom walls again. Jeremiah called desperately after them, using increasingly powerful Words, but they ignored him. They still had Walker’s Voice echoing in their heads, and there wasn’t room for anything else. They disappeared one by one until they were all gone, and none of the guests said anything. They watched until all the golems had disappeared, then they looked at Jeremiah, then they looked at Walker. And everyone in the ballroom knew where the real power lay. Jeremiah glared at Walker, his hands clenched into fists, actually trembling with rage.
“You’ll never get out of here alive, Walker. Everything in this house is a weapon I can use against you.”
“Oh hush, Jeremiah, there’s a good fellow; petulance is so unbecoming in a man of your age and standing. I told you I’m not here for you. Believe me, you want this person out of here as much as I do. Because one of your guests isn’t who you think they are.”
That got everyone’s attention. They all started looking around them, some actually backing away from each other. Where once they might have united against Walker, now they were all looking out for themselves. Walker strode past Jeremiah, nodding to me in an affable, urbane, and totally dismissive way, and walked into the crowd as though he was a favourite uncle come to bestow gifts. The thoroughly unnerved guests scattered before him, but he only had eyes for one very well known personage. He came to a halt before her and shook his head, seemingly more in sorrow than in anger.
“But…that’s the Lady Orlando!” protested Jeremiah.
“Not as such,” said Walker, studying the Lady Orlando thoughtfully while she stared coldly back at him. “Actually, this is the Charnel Chimera—shapeshifter, soul eater, identity thief. Not the Lady Orlando at all. So, show yourself. Show us your true face.”
His Voice beat upon the air, as unrelenting as fate, as unavoidable as death. The Lady Orlando opened her mouth, then kept on opening it, stretching her features unnaturally, and the sound that came out of the ugly gaping maw was in no way human. Impelled by Walker’s Voice, the creature before us dropped the shape it had adapted and showed us what it really was. The Lady Orlando melted away, revealing a horrid patchwork thing, like pieces of raw meat slapped together in a roughly human shape. It was all red-and-purple flesh, wet and glistening, marked with dark traceries of pulsing veins. The lumpy head was featureless, save for a circular mouth filled with needle teeth. The thing stank of filth and decay, sulphur and ammonia like all the bodies in a charnel house far gone in rot and suppuration. All around the thing people were stumbling backwards, coughing and choking at the smell, horrified at the awful creature that had walked unsuspected among them. Nightmares like this belonged in the streets of the Nightside, not in the safer and protected houses of the rich. The Charnel Chimera stood its ground, brought to bay, and turned its terribly unfinished face on Walker, who stared calmly back at it. When the creature finally spoke, its voice sounded more like an insect’s buzz than anything else.