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.
The hammer came crashing down, and I stopped it in mid-air with a very briefly golden hand. I didn’t care what happened to the Living Shroud, but I couldn’t let it happen on my watch, or people might start to wonder why. And I didn’t want anything to happen that might dissuade the Lady Faire from appearing. So I armoured up my hand, just for a moment, and thrust it in the way of the descending hammer. The golden glove absorbed all the impact, stopping Mjolnir dead in its tracks. And then I pulled the golden strange matter back into my torc before anyone noticed it was there. It was a risk using my torc, even so briefly, but I had no choice. It didn’t seem to have set off any alarms.
Jimmy Thunder swore loudly, his whole arm twitching painfully from being stopped so suddenly. He stepped back, looking at me with shocked, startled eyes. I glared back at him, secure behind my security mask.
I moved in between him and the Living Shroud, and gave my full attention to the inhabited grave clothes as they flapped and fluttered agitatedly before me. They rose up, growing and expanding. Strange energies flared around them. And then Molly appeared behind the Shroud, and threw a tray of champagne glasses over it. The alcohol soaked quickly into the rags, and Molly set fire to them. The grave wrappings immediately went up in blue flames, burning fiercely.
The Living Shroud howled miserably and spun round and round, beating at its burning self with empty sleeves, which only seemed to encourage the flames. The Shroud went running up and down the Ballroom, burning brightly, while people fell back delightedly and cheered and applauded. Until finally the Lady Alice Underground put the Shroud out with a handy soda siphon. The Living Shroud stood very still, half its rags just scorched tatters, falling away in blackened lengths. There was still no sign of whatever might be inhabiting what remained.
I called the security people back to the Ballroom, and they quickly surrounded the Living Shroud. There was a tense moment, and then the Shroud allowed itself to be escorted out. Leaving a trail of dark smudges on the floor behind it. Some of the guests actually got down on their hands and knees to pick up charred bits of rag, for souvenirs. I glared at Jimmy Thunder, who just shrugged. He’d been glared at by far worse than me. He went back to join Ms. Fate, who gave him a stiff talking-to, on the grounds that she operated as a costumed adventurer in the Nightside, and thus could be considered quite capable of looking after herself.
I nodded to Molly. “Thank you. That was very helpful. You can return to your duties now.”
She bobbed an almost convincing curtsey. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
She moved quickly away. I was still getting my breath back, when I found myself suddenly confronted by the Last of Leng. It crouched before me, giving the distinct impression it was glaring up at me from under its lowered hood. Up close, the poison green robes and tatters smelled strongly of rotting flesh and ordure. My torc burned at my throat, trying to protect me against something.
“Where is the Lady Faire?” said the Last of Leng in a harsh, grating voice.
“I’m sure she’ll be here, when she’s ready,” I said smoothly.
“Not good enough. Go. Tell the Lady Faire I am here. Tell her to come. Now.”
“I am Head of Security,” I said, careful to keep my voice calm and polite. “I have duties and responsibilities here. I’m sure the Lady Faire will appear, in good time.”
“I gave you an order!”
“So you did. And this is me, ignoring it, because I don’t work for you. Now be a good little last survivor of an appalling civilisation, and piss off. Before I throw an entire security force at you.”
I shouldn’t have lost my temper, but after all, this was the Last of Leng. There are limits.
“You dare!” shrieked the Last of Leng.
“Frequently,” I said. “Famous for it. One more word out of you, and I’ll have you thrown out into Ultima Thule, and you can spend the long journey home knocking icicles off your wrappings. Except you can’t go home, because some sensible and public-spirited person blew it up. So beat it, you bum.”