I looked about me. Werewolves were swarming all over the Fatemobile, tearing bits off it and pissing on the roof, but the reinforced armoured frame was still keeping them out. One of the tail fins had been bent right over, and long runnels of pink paint had been torn away all down one side. One wolf grabbed at the silver figure on the radiator, then howled miserably as his hand caught fire.
Ms. Fate was still spinning and kicking and lashing out with the silver shuriken in her hands, but she was getting tired, and the werewolves surrounding her weren’t. Screech danced and pirouetted gracefully through the heart of the mayhem, but for every wolf his elven strength put down, more rose up to take its place. He was strong and he was magical; but he wasn’t silver. Ms. Fate and Lord Screech were fighting well and fiercely, but the odds were stacked against them.
Which meant, as usual, that it was all down to me.
People say that werewolves only fear silver, but that’s not strictly true. There’s one thing they fear even more, because it rules their lives. I concentrated again, raised my gift, and reached out to the oversized Moon that hangs over the Nightside. It took me only a moment to find the right ultraviolet frequency in the moonlight and change it subtly; and just like that, the whole damned pack howled and shrieked as the change raged through them, stripping them of tooth and claw and fur ... and suddenly the street was full of naked men and women, running for their lives. Except for those who didn’t react fast enough and got the crap kicked out of them by Ms. Fate and Lord Screech.
They soon ran out of victims and returned to the car. Ms. Fate wept bitter tears of rage and frustration as she saw what had been done to her beloved Fatemobile.
“Look what they’ve done to my precious! One door gone, windows smashed, the paint-work ruined ... Bastards! I’ll have their hides for this!”
“Bad doggies,” I said tiredly, and slid slowly back into my shotgun seat. Ms. Fate and Screech looked at me, then at each other, and got back into the car without saying anything. For all the damage it had taken, the Fatemobile started up the first time, and we roared off down the empty street.
We caught up with a few fleeing naked figures, and Ms. Fate made a point of swerving to run them down.
I dozed some more, half dreaming, as the car made its way steadily through half-deserted streets. Apparently our reputation preceded us. I woke up only when we eased to a halt again. I looked around quickly, but the quiet side street was entirely free of Neanderthals, werewolves, or anything else obviously dangerous. Ms. Fate tapped her fingertips thoughtfully on the steering wheel, looking straight ahead. She seemed to be considering something. She turned to look at me, then stopped, and clucked in a motherly way. She produced a tissue from her utility belt and mopped some of the blood from my face.
“You look like shit, John,” she said. “This isn’t doing you any good. Tell me it’s not as bad as it looks.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” I said.
“Very good! Now try saying it like you mean it. I never knew using your gift screwed you up this badly.”
“It’s not something I advertise,” I said.
“Should I call Suzie Shooter?”
“Don’t you dare! She’d turn this whole area into a blood-bath.” I looked around me. “Where are we, exactly?”
“I was wondering that,” said Screech, from the back seat. “I am in a bit of a hurry, you know.”
“If he says, Are we there yet? feel free to hit him with something large and spiky,” I said. “Why have we stopped again?”
“Because we’ve come to the edge of a different territory,” said Ms. Fate. “This whole area is currently under the rule of a new Mr. Big, name of Dr. Fell. If we try to cross without advance permission, we’ll have to fight our way through his army as well as Walker’s.”
I scowled, struggling to concentrate. My head was pounding. “I didn’t think there were any Mr. Bigs left, after the Walking Man paid his grand visit to the Boys Club. I thought he wiped them all out.”
“Not everyone was there that night,” said Ms. Fate. “The few that survived the Walking Man massacre wasted no time in taking over the old territories and expanding their influence. Dr. Fell is still very much alive and running this whole area like his own private kingdom. I’m surprised Walker hasn’t sent someone around to slap him down.”
“Walker has always believed in dealing with the devil you know,” I said tiredly. “Sometimes literally ... As long as this Dr. Fell sticks to his own territory and doesn’t make waves, Walker will do business with him.” I frowned. “Dr. Fell ... The name rings a bell, but I can’t place him. Was a time I knew all the major scumbags in town ... Talk to me, Ms. Fate. Tell me things.”
“He wasn’t really anyone, until the Walking Man wiped out most of the competition,” said Ms. Fate. “Just one more freak with a nasty gift and an itch for power. No-one seems to know who or what he was before he came to the Nightside, but since he came to power here, he’s made a name for himself for ruthless efficiency, money laundering on a grand scale, and general weirdness. They say he can See through the eyes of all those who work for him, so he always knows what’s going on throughout his territory. All the lesser scumbags pay tribute to him, to be allowed to operate here. And anyone who passes through has to pay a toll to him personally. Now, I could just put my foot down, drive like the devil, and hope he’s got nothing fast enough to catch us ... but there are stories. And I don’t think me or my lovely car are in any condition to fight a running battle if it all goes wrong. It might be ... expedient just to stroll into his presence, give him the money, and avoid a lot of unpleasantness.”
“This Dr. Fell worries you,” I said. “What makes him so different?”
“Dr. Fell is seriously weird,” said Ms. Fate. “Even for the Nightside. I would have taken him down myself, just on general principles ... but there is that whole private-army thing he’s got going. A girl should know her limitations.”
“I don’t pay tolls,” I said. “Normally. But I think you’ve got the right of it. None of us are in any shape to fight off armies. So, we go in politely, act diplomatically, and see if we can sweet-talk the scumbag. Screech, you’d better stay in the car.”
“I am deeply hurt by your insinuation,” said the elf. “I can be diplomatic if I have to be. I am an emissary, after all.”
“All right, you can come in with us,” I said. “But don’t kill anybody. Unless I start something first.”
“Well, really,” said Screech. “What do you think I am, a barbarian?”
“No,” I said. “You’re an elf. Which is worse.” I looked at Ms. Fate. “Same to you, only less so. I’ve no doubt we’re going to see some distressing things in Dr. Fell’s court, but patience and dignity at all times. We can always go back and give him a good arse kicking some other time.”
“I have had ... disagreements with some of Dr. Fell’s people, in the past,” Ms. Fate said carefully. “Really quite vicious and bloody disagreements, on occasion.”
“Oh, this is going to go really well,” I said.
We drove a short distance until we came to what was obviously Dr. Fell’s place of power. We all got out of the Fatemobile, and I took a long thoughtful look at it while Ms. Fate activated what was left of the car’s security systems. From the outside, Dr. Fell’s court looked like just another shabby night-club, with boarded-up windows and a really quite understated neon sign—The Penitent. The whole place could have used a lick of paint and quite possibly a tetanus injection. The only signs of life were the bouncers outside the firmly closed front doors, two huge golems in oversized tuxedos. They looked very professional and quite staggeringly dangerous. The only sure way to take down a stone golem is with a road drill.