“Oh, you’d be surprised what John Taylor can do,” said Dead Boy, moving in on one side of me, while Razor Eddie slipped into position on the other. Dead Boy sneered at Rogue. “Walker can look after himself. But he doesn’t have to; not while we’re around. You behave yourself, young immortal, or I will knock you down and stamp on your head, and Razor Eddie here will make origami out of your insides.”
Rogue looked from Dead Boy to Razor Eddie, then back to me. He smiled charmingly.
“It’s always good to have friends you can depend on. Rest assured I will do everything in my power to cooperate with the Walker’s investigation.”
“Thanks for the support, guys,” I said. “But I think he might speak more freely without an audience.”
Dead Boy and Razor Eddie drifted away, talking quietly together. I would have given a lot to hear what those two very different souls might have in common, but I had a job to do.
“I didn’t know King of Skin, except by reputation,” said Rogue. “So what possible reason could I have for killing him?”
“I was hoping you might tell me,” I said. “Why did you come here tonight, for the first time?”
“Every time is someone’s first time,” said Rogue. “My family has been destroyed. Murdered. I was looking for something new to belong to. One must make a family where one can, these days. But it is very hard to make new friends when nobody trusts you.”
“Lot of that going around,” I said. “Don’t go anywhere; I may have more questions.”
Rogue smiled sweetly. “I come and go as I please.”
I gave him a hard look. “Even if you could get past Hadleigh at the door, which you can’t, there’s nowhere you can go that I couldn’t find you.”
“Ah yes,” murmured Rogue. “Your famous gift. I have a gift too, courtesy of my family.”
And right before my eyes, the flesh shifted suddenly on his face, slipping back and forth, until my own face looked back at me, complete in every detail.
“I can be anyone,” said Rogue, with my lips but his voice. A really very disturbing effect.
“Ah yes,” I said, carefully casual. “Flesh-dancing. I had heard the stories . . . that everyone in your family could change their face or body, to hide in plain sight. That’s what made you all such marvellous traitors and back-stabbers.”
“Well, quite,” said Rogue, changing back to his own face.
I gave him my best sneer and left him to it. Something about Rogue’s supercilious manners and quiet contempt got on my nerves, but not enough for me to peg him as a major suspect. He was right; he had no motive. Never been here before, never even met King of Skin, wasn’t even here long enough to be insulted by him. But there were no murders until he turned up. Something to think about.
I found the Bride and Springheel Jack arguing quietly but fiercely with Hadleigh Oblivion. They wanted to leave, and he was having none of it. They all looked round as I approached. Springheel Jack took a step towards me, but the Bride stopped him immediately with a large hand on his arm.
“Sorry,” I said. “But the Detective Inspectre is following my orders. Nobody leaves till we’ve sorted this out. Do you have somewhere you need to be?”
“An unseen murderer, with an unknown weapon, hiding among the immortals?” said Jack. “I want the Bride out of here. It’s not safe.”
“Your concern is touching, Jack, but if you don’t cut this condescending crap right now, I will slap you a good one,” said the Bride. “I am old enough to be your great-grandmother, and I know how to look after myself.”
“King of Skin almost certainly felt the same,” said Springheel Jack. He looked around the crowded ball-room. “Something isn’t right here. I can feel it. Like a premonition . . . Someone else is going to die here. There’s a wolf hiding among the sheep, and oh his teeth are sharp . . .”
He seemed almost to be in a trance. I looked at the Bride.
“Does he have the Sight?”
“I don’t know,” said the Bride. “Being Springheel Jack makes him more aware of the horrors of the world, but the state doesn’t exactly come with a user’s manual. If he says someone’s going to die, I’d put money on it . . . Jack. Jack!”
He looked at her blankly for a moment, then shuddered suddenly, as though someone had tripped over his grave.
“We need to get out of here, lover. Something bad is coming.”
“Then help me find the killer,” I said. “You can start by answering some questions.”
“Go ahead,” said the Bride.
“King of Skin spoke with you,” I said to Springheel Jack. “He said he knew what you really are. He also said he couldn’t be harmed by mortal weapons, and you said your razors were more than mortal.”
“That’s right,” said Springheel Jack. “They are. But you don’t stab someone with a cut-throat razor. I’ve seen the wound in his back; you’re looking for a large jagged-edged weapon. Doesn’t sound like a straight razor, does it?”
“I would quite certainly have smacked him round the head a few times for what he said,” said the Bride. “But he wasn’t worth it. King of Skin is part of the entertainment at these dos. We all turn up to see what he’ll say about other people. We expect him to have a go at us. It’s part of the game. You have to be able to take some, to hear some. Look, Jack and I both vouch for each other. We were together, when we heard King of Skin had been murdered. Haven’t left each other’s side since we got here. So we are each other’s alibi.”
“Yes,” I said. “But as a wise woman once said, ‘You would say that, wouldn’t you?’”
“I’m cold,” said Springheel Jack. “I’m so cold . . . It’s close, and it’s getting closer.”
His eyes had gone fey again. The Bride looked at him worriedly.
“Come with me, dear, and I’ll find you a nice large brandy to warm you up.”
She led him away, into the crowd. I looked at Hadleigh.
“Could you really have kept them in if they’d wanted out?” I said.
“Oh, I think so,” said Hadleigh. “Is it my turn now? I can’t vouch for my whereabouts as I have no idea where I was when King of Skin was murdered. I have no alibi. But you must know; I wouldn’t need a weapon to kill someone. Or I could have made him disappear. Sent him somewhere awful, to suffer for his many sins, and no-one would ever have known a thing about it.”
“Do you do that a lot?” I said, somewhat creeped out.
“When necessary,” said Hadleigh Oblivion.
“You’re really not helping your case,” I said. “What better way to hide your intent than a deliberately clumsy attack?”
“I have no weapons on me,” Hadleigh said easily. “I don’t feel the need for such things. Search me if you like. You won’t find anything. I guarantee it.”
But I was still thinking about the rose he had withered by breathing it in. And how King of Skin’s faces had withered away . . . “You knew about King of Skin’s other skins,” I said. “No-one else did. And he said he knew the price you paid, to gain access to the Deep School. What kind of price was that? What did you do, that you couldn’t tell your brothers? Did King of Skin know something that you couldn’t afford anyone else to know?”
“He knew nothing,” said Hadleigh. “The only people who know anything about the Deep School are those who’ve been there. And we never talk.”
I was getting ready to pursue the point when another great cry went up. A man, crying out in shock and horror. The immortals were already falling back, scattering like panicked birds, from something that had happened on the other side of the room. I forced my way through them, to find Springheel Jack kneeling by the still-and-lifeless body of the Bride. He was holding her in his arms, rocking her back and forth like a sleeping child, his face gaunt with horror and loss. The Bride’s eyes were wide open and staring. She looked like a broken doll. I could see a jagged wound in her side, soaked with blood. Jack looked at me.
“Why didn’t you listen to me? Why didn’t you let us go? None of this would have happened if you’d let us go!”