“Not any more,” I said. “Lilith raised the dead in the Necropolis graveyard, remember? Brought them all back to life and sent them out into the Nightside.” I could see the light of understanding dawning in everyone’s eyes. “He’s out there, somewhere. My father. Charles Taylor. And who’s better suited to find him than me?”
I forced my gift awake, and it showed me a vision of my returned father. He was doing research in the Prospero and Michael Scott Memorial Library, rooting through the ruins and collecting books from overturned stacks. He piled the books up on a desk, and searched desperately through each volume, looking for… something. I studied him for a while. He didn’t look much older than I was. In fact, he looked a lot like me. I took hold of Walker’s and the Collector’s hands, so they could see him, too.
“Typical Charles,” said the Collector, almost wistfully. “He never could abide taking orders from anyone. Including, it would seem, an ex-wife who brought him back from the dead. She should have known he’d go his own way.”
“I don’t think she knows about him,” said Walker. “She’s got other things on her mind, just now.”
“What’s he doing, burying himself in books when the world’s coming to and end?” said the Collector.
“Doing what he always does,” said Walker. “Research. He’s looking for answers.”
I looked back at Merlin. “Open a door for me, between here and there. I need to talk to my father.”
The dead sorcerer scowled at me. “If I remove my concentration from the bar’s defences, even for a moment, Lilith will know what’s happening here.”
“Let her,” I said. “All that matters now is getting these three old friends back together. So they can put right their old wrong.”
“God, you sound like your father sometimes,” said the Collector. “He could be a right pain in the arse on occasion, too.”
Merlin gestured angrily with an unsteady hand, and the Library vision became real as an opening appeared in space, linking the bar with the Library. My father was so immersed in his books he didn’t even notice. I stepped carefully through the opening into the Library and coughed meaningfully. My father scrambled up out of his chair and backed away from me, holding a heavy paperweight like a weapon. I slowly raised my hands, to show they were empty.
“Take it easy,” I said. “I’m not here to hurt you. I need your help.”
Charles Taylor studied me suspiciously, then put the paperweight down on the desk. “You look familiar. Do I know you?”
It hit me harder than I’d expected, to hear my father’s voice again after so many years. It made him real again, in a way just the sight of him hadn’t. I lowered my hands, and suddenly I didn’t know what to say. Too many things I wanted to tell him, needed to tell him, but I couldn’t find the words.
“How did you find me here?” he said. “You don’t have the look of one of Lilith’s creatures. Though I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere before… but it doesn’t matter. I can’t help you. You’ll have to leave. I’m very busy.”
“You know me,” I said. “Though it’s been a long time. I’m John. I’m your son, John.”
“My God,” he said, and he sat down suddenly on his chair, as though all the strength had gone out of his legs. “John… Look at you… All grown-up. You look… a lot like my father. Your grandfather. Of course, you never knew him…”
“You went away,” I said. I tried to keep the anger out of my voice, but that only made it sound even colder. “Abandoned me to my Enemies, when I was just a child. You left me alone when I needed you the most. You drank yourself to death rather than raise me. Why?”
Charles sighed heavily. He looked at his books, as though for answers, and then he made himself look back at me. “You have to understand… I’d been betrayed so many times: by friends I thought I could trust, by the woman I believed loved me. Your mother… was my last chance. To be a man again, to be sane again. To do good work, work that mattered. She was my life, my hope, my dreams. I never loved anyone like I loved her. When Pew told me the truth, showed me the hard evidence… I almost killed him. I went looking for her, but she was already gone. Just as well. I don’t know what I would have done… And you, John, you’d meant so much to me, and now I was afraid you were a lie, too. Because if I couldn’t depend on my wife to be my wife, if she wasn’t even human… how could I depend on you to be my son? I was afraid you’d turn out to be a monster, like your mother.”
“No,” I said. “I’m nothing like my mother.”
He smiled, and it was like a hand crushing my heart. I remembered that smile, from long ago, though I’d forgotten it till that moment.
“I’ve been reading about you, son. Reports of your old cases, in the Night Times. Quite the adventures, I gather. Helping people who couldn’t help themselves, solving mysteries, bringing down the bad guys… I also read some of the editorial pieces, by Julien Advent. The great Victorian Adventurer. He doesn’t seem too sure whether he approves of you, but he approves of what you achieved, and that’s good enough for me. You’ve made yourself the hero I always meant to be, but life got in the way…”
“It’s not too late,” I said. “There is a way you can stop Lilith. Come with me. Two old friends are waiting to greet you.”
He got up from his chair and stood before me. We were exactly the same height. Two men of roughly the same age, but with far more than our share of experience.
“There is a way?” he said. “Really?”
“I believe so.”
“Then let’s do it.” He put a hesitant hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry I let you down, son. Sorry… I wasn’t strong enough.”
“Everyone else let you down,” I said. “They all lied to you. Betrayed you. That stops now.”
“I read everything they had on you here,” said Charles Taylor. “You’ve done well, in my absence. I’m proud of you, son.”
“That’s all I ever wanted,” I said.
I think he would have hugged me then, but I wasn’t ready for that. I still had to be strong. I led the way back through the opening, into the bar, and he came through after me. Merlin immediately shut the opening down. My father looked around him.
“My God, it’s Strangefellows! Is this dump still going? Damn, I had some times here…”
“Yes, you did,” Walker said dryly. “Though I seem to recall I always ended up having to foot the bill. You were famous in those days for never having your wallet on you.”
My father turned round and looked at Walker, then at the Collector. He frowned, clearly uncertain, and then his face broke into a broad grin, and all three of them laughed. It was an open, happy laugh, blowing away all the old hurts and quarrels, and the three men fell on each other, clapping shoulders and backs with loud happy words. It was odd to see Charles Taylor looking so much younger than his contemporaries, but there was no denying how naturally they fit together. As though they belonged together, and always had. Eventually they stood back and studied each other.
“It’s good to have you back, Charles,” said Walker. “You’re looking good. Being dead clearly agreed with you.”
“I’ve missed you, Charles,” said the Collector. “I really have. No-one could hold their own in an argument like you. So; what was it like, being dead?”
“I really don’t remember,” said Charles. “Probably just as well. But look at you… both of you! Henry… what happened? You look so distinguished! And you always swore you’d rather die than be trapped in a suit and tie, like all the other city drones. Are you really part of the Establishment these days?”
“Hell,” said the Collector. “He is the Establishment.”
“And Mark… Ten out of ten for style, but when did you get so fat?”
“Now don’t you start,” said the Collector. “Do you like the blazer? I got it from this retired secret agent. I got his weird car, too, while he was looking for his blazer. You have got to see my collection, when all this is over. I’ve acquired more fabulous, junk and kitsch than any man living!”