Agents Of Light And Darkness (7 page)

I felt almost wistful, watching the happy S&M freaks at their play. Must be nice to be able to
pretend
that you’re in danger, while still being absolutely safe. Their various practices didn’t upset or disturb me. You learn tolerance early in the Nightside. You can’t keep on being outraged all the time. It wears you out.

“What do you
want
, Taylor?”

I smiled pleasantly at the female Demon. “I want to see Mr. Bones and Mr. Blood. I’m here on business. And the sooner they agree to see me, the sooner I can get my business over with, and Suzie and I can be on our way. Keep us waiting around, and we’re bound to find some trouble to get into. We’re already freaking out some of your customers. They came here for the illusion of danger, not the real thing.”

The female Demon looked around quickly. A few of the bright young things were already drifting towards the door, shooting uneasy glances at Suzie. The blonde Demon snarled and headed for the winding metal steps that led up to the next floor. Suzie and I followed after her, sticking close as we passed through the merry throng. Someone pinched my ass. They wouldn’t have dared pinch Suzie’s. Out of the corners of my eyes, I could see other Demon Lordz working their way through the crowd to join us. There seemed to be quite a few of them.

The steps led up to a private office that took up the whole of the next floor. Another steel door sealed the office off from the partying below. The female Demon hammered on the door with her fist, while glaring into the lens of an overhead security camera. More Demon Lordz were climbing the steps, cutting off our retreat. Not that I had any intention of retreating until I’d got what I wanted. Suzie was looking out over the company below. Her upper lip curled briefly.

“You don’t approve?” I said quietly.

“Amateur night,” Suzie said dismissively. “I take pain seriously.”

There were any number of ways I could have pursued that remark, but I chose not to follow any of them. Sometimes, that’s what friends are for. I looked down the steps, and a dozen Demonz glared back at me. I gave them my best
I know something you don’t
smile. They didn’t seem particularly impressed. The door finally opened, and the female Demon led us into the private office.

The noise shut off abruptly as the door closed behind the last of the Demon Lordz. We could have been on another planet. Excellent soundproofing, though whether magical or high-tech wasn’t immediately apparent. The whole floor had been converted into one very comfortable meeting place, stuffed with every kind of luxury and indulgence imaginable. Chairs so comfortable that Rip Van Winkle would never have woken up if he’d dozed off in one of them. A massive drinks cabinet, with every potable in the world, plus a few from stranger places. Winter wine, wormwood brandy, crème de Tartarus. Bowls on low tables, full of multi-colored pills and assorted powders. A dozen large television screens covered one wall, all showing different video games. A fifteenth-century hanging tapestry, depicting the fall of Lucifer, not quite long enough to conceal the old and recent blood-stains on the carpet below it, shut off one corner. Most of the floor was glass, presumably reinforced, so that we could all look down on the mortals below, going about their various painful pleasures in eerie silence. All they saw was a mirror, showing what they loved most: themselves. Somebody cleared his throat pointedly, and I looked down the length of the office at Mr. Blood and Mr. Bones, standing on either side of their heavy mahogany desk. They ran the Demon Lordz, as well as The Pit. Neither of them looked at all happy to see me.

Unlike their fellow gang members, Mr. Blood and Mr. Bones had no time for the traditional street creed look. They both wore power suits, expertly cut and tailored. Their thick black hair was slicked back from their foreheads, and there were bright flashes of gold when they smiled to show off their pointed teeth. They looked sharp and keen and very businesslike. Yuppies from Hell. Mr. Bones was tall and slender, with wasted aesthetic features. His eyes were a pale, pale blue, and the only thing colder was his smile. Mr. Blood was large and ponderous, with red beefy features. His eyes were bright pink, like an albino’s.

Both Lordz held themselves with the easy arrogance of accustomed power. Behind us, the rest of the gang had filed into the office. I counted thirty-two, half and half men and women. They lounged around in various cocky postures, trying to look hard. I ignored them, knowing that would upset them the most. Suzie still had her pump-action shotgun in her hands, pointed exactly half-way between Mr. Blood and Mr. Bones. It didn’t seem to worry them too much.

“Good of you to join us,” said Mr. Bones. His voice was soft and effortlessly vicious, a mere breath of air. “You were beginning to disturb the dear patrons, and we can’t have that, can we?”

“Indeed not,” said Mr. Blood. His voice was hearty with false cheer. “Can I interest either of you in a chilled glass of Moet & Chandon? We’ve just opened a bottle. A little caviar, perhaps? Or maybe something a little tastier to chew on?”

He gestured amiably with a fat hand, and the hanging tapestry drew back of its own accord, to reveal a young woman hanging in chains, slumped in the corner. She was barely out of her teens, entirely naked, and quite dead. There was a big hole in her side, from where something had been feeding on her. Stubs of broken-off ribs showed in the pale red meat, and from the dark depths of the hole, it was clear that some of her internal organs had been removed. There were tooth marks on the broken ribs. Her hair was black as night, her skin was white as snow, with not even the faintest tinge of color in her lips or nipples. And then my heart missed a beat as the dead woman slowly raised her head and looked at me. Her body was dead, but her soul remained, trapped inside. Her eyes were focused on me, and full of suffering. She knew what was happening to her. Her mouth moved silently.

Help me… help me
…

“The suffering on offer below wasn’t enough for this one,” said Mr. Blood. “She insisted on the real thing. And we were only too happy to oblige her. A tasty young morsel, eh, Mr. Bones?”

“What fools these mortals be,” breathed Mr. Bones. “But they do make such wonderful snacks.”

Suzie stepped forward and shot the dead woman in the head. At point-blank range, both barrels together blew her whole head apart, leaving nothing behind but a great crimson-and-grey splatter of blood and brains and bone fragments on the wall behind her. The headless body kicked a few times, then was still. Suzie pumped fresh bullets into position and looked calmly at Mr. Bones and Mr. Blood.

“Some things I don’t put up with.”

“Quite right,” I said, while the two gang leaders were still numb with shock and outrage. “You forget your place, Demon Lordz. You’re not at home now. Time for us to talk seriously, I think. So drop the illusions. We’re not tourists. Show us your real faces.”

And in the blink of an eye, the gangsta street gang and their two yuppie leaders were gone, replaced by whole crowd of crimson-skinned medieval demons. Eight feet tall and overpoweringly brutal, they crowded together before and around us, scarlet as sin, stinking of brimstone, with goats’ horns curling up from their foreheads and cloven hooves for feet. Their male and female attributes were sarcastically exaggerated. So were their fangs and claws. Long, twitching tails hung down between their bent legs. Suzie sniffed loudly, unimpressed, and glared at me.

“You know I hate surprises. So this is why you had me carve a cross in each of my bullets and dip them in holy water.”

“I believe in being prepared,” I said calmly. “Allow me to introduce the real Demon Lordz. A batch of very minor demons, on the run from Hell, living among us as humans for the pleasures it affords them.”

“Coffee!” said the Demonz, their snarling voices overlapping. “Ice cream! Cold showers!”

“And all the mortals we can torture,” said Mr. Bones. “We can’t keep them away. And they pay us to do it to them!”

“Not that we do much of the tormenting ourselves, these days,” said Mr. Blood. “We find it better to delegate. All our dominatrixes are fully human. No-one understands how to inflict pain better than a trained professional human. You mortals are subtler than we could ever be…”

“And besides, some of us had trouble with the concept of safe words,” said Mr. Bones, glaring about him.

“If you’re all real demons,” said Suzie, “how did you escape from Hell?”

The Demonz sniggered and elbowed each other in the ribs. Mr. Blood giggled. “Why, this is Hell, Faustus, nor are we out of it. Ah, the old jokes are still the best.”

“Answer the lady,” I said.

Mr. Bones shrugged. “Let’s just say we’re political refugees, and leave it at that. We’re hiding out from those who would seek to drag us back.”

“If you’re trying to hide,” said Suzie, “why call your place The Pit? Isn’t that kinda drawing attention to yourselves?”

“No-one ever said demons were smart,” I observed. “And they really are only very minor demons.”

The Demon Lordz moved in a little closer, flexing their claws. The stench of brimstone was almost overpowering. I could feel my eyes smarting. I smiled kindly upon them, utterly casual.

“What do you want here, Taylor?” said Mr. Bones.

“The Unholy Grail has come to the Nightside,” I said.

“We know. We don’t have it,” Mr. Blood said immediately.

“Never thought for a moment that you did,” I said easily. “It’s way out of your league. But you know people. You have contacts. You hear things, from others of your kind. So if anyone knows who’s got the Unholy Grail, or is closest to getting it, it’s you.”

Mr. Blood shook his horned head firmly. He sat on one corner of his desk, and it groaned loudly under his weight. “We don’t know, and we don’t want to know. We’ve put a lot of effort into finding our niche and not being returned. If the dark chalice, Iscariot’s Bane, really has come here, then you can bet good money that all the real movers and shakers will be out after it, like sharks tasting blood in the water.”

“There are angels in the Nightside,” said Mr. Bones, grimacing as though he’d tasted something bitter. “Ranks and degrees far greater than us. They are death and destruction; the will of the Highest and the Lowest made manifest in the mortal world. Nothing material can hope to stand against them.”

“So we are keeping our heads down and staying very quiet on the sidelines,” said Mr. Blood. “Until the Elect and the Damned have finished their business here and departed. We have no intention of being found out, and dragged back Below. Not when there are still so many subtle pleasures to be enjoyed here.”

“Life is sweet,” said Mr. Bones. “In this tastiest of worlds.”

“The Unholy Grail is a major prize,” I suggested. “You could use it to bargain for power and wealth and protection.”

“You don’t use the Judas Cup,” said Mr. Blood. “It uses you. It is temptation and corruption, and the seduction of fools. It gives nothing that it does not take away, and damnation follows in its wake. Even such as we are frightened of the Unholy Grail.”

The Demonz stirred uneasily, as though even the mention of the dark chalice was enough to call it.

“However,” said Mr. Bones, “there is a prize that we could present to the movers and shakers of the Nightside that might well win us power and wealth and protection.”

“Oh yes?” I said politely. “And what might that be?”

“The heads of John Taylor and Suzie Shooter,” said Mr. Bones, smiling unpleasantly. “Separated from your annoying and intrusive bodies, of course. And thus we avenge ourselves on your many slights, while winning respect from all. A plan with no drawbacks.”

“Hold everything,” said Mr. Blood urgently. “Can I have a word with you? Have you lost your mind? This is
John Taylor
and
Shotgun Suzie
we’re talking about!”

“So?”

“So I like having my internal organs where they are, and not splattered all over the surroundings! It’s rather difficult to enjoy the subtler pleasures when your passionate parts have been ripped off and stuffed where the sun don’t shine! These are dangerous people!”

“
We outnumber them
!”

“
So
?”

“Sweet Lucifer, you’re a wimp!” said Mr. Bones. “Don’t know how you got to be a demon in the first place. Kill the mortals! Rend their bodies and eat their flesh, but make sure the heads are intact!”

“Oh shut the hell up,” said Suzie Shooter.

She lifted her shotgun and shot Mr. Bones point-blank. The blessed and sanctified bullets tore his crimson face right off, revealing a dirty yellow skull. He fell backwards, screaming piteously. Mr. Blood got up off his desk in a hurry and glared at his partner, writhing in agony on the floor.

“
See
!”

“He’ll repair himself in a minute or two,” I said quietly to Suzie, as she pumped fresh ammunition into place. The Demonz were circling us slowly now, nerving themselves up to attack. “No earthly weapon can defeat a demon.”

“In which case,” said Suzie, tracking the nearest Demonz with her gun, “this would be a really good time for the cavalry to make an appearance. Or failing that, for you to produce one of your last-minute miracle saves.”

I considered the matter thoughtfully. The Demonz were closing in. Mr. Bones sat up, holding his tattered face together with his hands, as the crimson features slowly knit themselves back together. Even Mr. Blood came out from behind his desk.

“Taylor!” said Suzie. “Anytime now would be good!”

I held up a hand and smiled. Everyone stopped moving.

“In the Beginning,” I said, “God said
Let
there be light
, and there was. If a man could summon up that light, from the very first moments of creation, and look into it without burning out his eyes or his reason, then that man would have at his command a light that could burn away all the darkness in the world.”

For a long moment, nobody said anything. Mr. Bones stood up, glaring out of his ravaged face.

“You don’t have that kind of power!”

“Don’t I?” I said.