I held it up before me. It took me a moment to realise what it was—a jagged-edged piece of mirror glass, dripping red wine. Not a knife after all, then, though the edges were certainly sharp enough to do real damage. In fact, the whole shard was so sharp everywhere, I was hard put to see how you could hold on to the thing without lacerating your own hand. And no-one in the room had shown any damaged hands . . . I jumped a little as I realised Bettie Divine was standing beside me, smiling brightly.
“I sensed you using your gift all the way across the room, so I came over to see what was happening. What is happening? What have you found?”
“You sensed . . .”
“Half demon, darling, remember? These horns aren’t just for show. Now be a dear and tell me what that is you’re holding! Is it important?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s the murder weapon,” I said.
Bettie squealed excitedly. “Wonderful! I knew you’d solve the case, sweetie! Never doubted you for a moment! Where was it?”
“In that jug of wine. That’s why both murders took place next to the buffet table. He smuggled the shard in easily enough, then dropped it surreptitiously into the jug . . . where it waited till he had a need for it. He took it out, stabbed his victim, then dropped it back in again. The wine would even wash the blood away though I think I can see traces of dried blood, trapped in the jagged edges . . .”
Bettie leaned in as close as she could get without actually touching the mirror shard with her nose. “Definitely part of a mirror, darling. But why make a weapon out of it? And what does it have to do with the way King of Skin . . . shrivelled up?”
“Good question,” I said. I held the shard up close to my face, so I could see my reflection in it. There was something . . . odd, something off, about the image; but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“There’s magic hovering all about that piece of mirror,” said Bettie. “Old, bad magic. I can See it, but . . . You’ve got better Sight than me, sweetie. What do you See?”
I concentrated, raising my gift again, using it to study the reality of the thing before me, opening up my inner eye, my private eye, to See the world as it really is. And then I almost dropped the shard as I realised what it was I was holding.
“What?” Bettie said excitedly. “What did you See?”
“Temporal energies,” I said. “This mirror shard is soaked in Time, in Time magic. I can actually see inverted tachyons, shooting up and down the broken edges.”
Bettie gave me a hard look, only slightly spoiled by her pouting mouth. “Yes, very nice, darling, very dramatic. But what does that mean?”
“It means, I know what mirror this came from,” I said, pulling a handkerchief from my pocket and carefully wrapping up the vicious-edged shard before tucking it very carefully into my coat pocket. “This is a sliver of glass from the infamous Mirror of Dorian Gray. You must have heard of it. It was up for sale at an auction-house here in the Nightside, not so long ago. Think of it: the mirror that reflected a man soaked in temporal magic. If a crazy magical man stares into you long enough, you become crazy and magical, too. This mirror soaked up Time, leaching the life from anyone who looked into it, and stored it. The perfect murder weapon because who’d ever suspect a mirror. The last I heard, the Mirror of Dorian Gray belonged to the Family of Immortals . . .”
We both turned to look at Rogue, standing on his own, glaring at anyone who even glanced in his direction.
“He said . . . he and his fellow surviving immortals grabbed a few things of value from the Family Vaults, before they escaped,” I said slowly. “I suppose in the haste of getting away from the Droods, they must have dropped the mirror. All Rogue got away with, was a single shard. Still powerful enough to steal someone’s years if you thrust it right into them.”
“A weapon that eats Time,” said Bettie. “The perfect weapon for killing immortals, darling, if you wanted to steal all their years and keep them for yourself. But why would Rogue need more years? He’s already immortal!”
“Good question,” I said. “I must be sure to ask him.”
“Are you sure it’s him?” said Bettie anxiously. “To accuse an immortal, among a gathering of his fellow immortals, you need to be really sure.”
“Good point,” I said. “But now I’ve got the weapon, I can use it to focus my gift and get it to show me exactly what happened. Make sure no-one interrupts me.”
“You got it, sweetie.”
I concentrated hard, and my gift manifested again. My head ached, resenting the strain. Time fled backwards before me, right back to the moment of the murder. I could See King of Skin standing before me, a thin and wispy artefact of Time Past, pawing through the snacks with grubby fingers and a disdainful sneer. I Saw the Lord Orlando approach King of Skin, with his usual simpering smile. King of Skin growled at him and deliberately turned his back on Orlando. And that was when the Lord Orlando’s face slipped and changed as he became the Rogue Immortal. He took the mirror shard out of the wine jug and stabbed King of Skin in the back. King tried to cry out and couldn’t. I could See the temporal energies swirling and spiralling around him as the shard sucked his future right out of him—all the years, all the life he would have had. And then King of Skin collapsed, measuring his length on the floor. Rogue tugged the weapon out of his back, flicked a few drops of blood away, and slipped the shard neatly back into the wine jug. The whole thing had only taken a few moments. Rogue became Orlando again and wandered off.
And no-one noticed his movements because no-one cared where he went. He was the only person the immortals would turn their backs on because no-one ever wanted to talk to him.
I followed him until he turned back into Rogue, unnoticed in the crush of bodies. His face was calm and unconcerned, untouched by what he’d done. No trace of anger or regret. Only the hint of someone who’d performed a distasteful but necessary task—a small smile, typical of a teenager who has got away with something. I shut down my gift and looked at the expectant Bettie Divine, all but dancing with impatience before me.
“Well?” she said squeakily. “Well?”
“Got him,” I said. “Rogue killed King of Skin.”
“And the Bride?”
“I didn’t hang around long enough to See it; but since they were both killed with the same weapon, it had to be him again.”
Bettie frowned. “Then why didn’t the mirror shard shrivel her up the way it did King of Skin?”
I thought about it. “Because . . . the Bride was made of dead parts, then brought to life. She only has a human lifetime; but when she dies, she can be brought back again, for another life. Thanks to the Baron’s handiwork, she’s basically . . . rechargeable. Technically immortal, but only one life at a time.”
“Gosh, you are clever, John darling,” said Bettie.
“Flattery . . . will get you an exclusive interview. Later. For now, do me a favour and round up Dead Boy and Razor Eddie. Have them stand by in case it all goes pear-shaped when I accuse Rogue . . .”
“On it, sweetie.”
She blew me a quick kiss and disappeared into the crowd. I moved over to join Rogue, taking my time. I didn’t want to spook him. Chases are so undignified. I was almost upon him when he turned suddenly and smiled coldly at me.