The Bride Wore Black Leather (24 page)

One bed was full of three people who’d been mashed together in an ungainly tangle of limbs, their pallid flesh stretched taut, while three faces stared from different sides of the same head. I don’t know what their staring eyes saw, but I knew it wasn’t anything I wanted to see. A man sat stiffly upright on the next bed, strapped bodily to the headboard. Where his head should have been there was only a brightly shining star. Next to him, a woman squatted on her bed, held in a tightly reinforced strait jacket chained to the wall. Her eyes were simply evil. She laughed softly, continuously, waiting for the moment when someone would be stupid enough to release her. Something that might have been a man or a woman, once, lay in a pool of its own blood, bulky pieces of alien tech protruding through its cracked and broken skin.

Many of the patients had extra organs, or added alien attributes, their bodies changed and adapted so they could survive on some other, alien world. Useless here, of course. They hadn’t asked for what had been done to them. Abducted, changed, then dumped when the experiment didn’t work out. I wanted to get my hands on the creatures that could do such things and make them suffer for their sins. I looked sharply at Julien, filling my voice with anger so he wouldn’t hear anything else.

“This isn’t right! It would be kinder to let these poor bastards die.”

Julien nodded, understanding things I couldn’t say out loud, even to him. “The doctors do help people here. Though I have to say, I didn’t know things were this bad . . .”

“But you’re the man who knows everything,” I said.

“It’s part of the job to know that places like this exist . . . but even I can’t keep up with the details.”

“You don’t have to,” said Dr. Benway, coming over to join us. “There’s a limit to the burdens anyone can be expected to carry.” She gestured sharply to Burke and Rabette to carry John Doe X 47 back to his bed. “Being sent here isn’t a death sentence, Mr. Taylor. We can help a surprising number of the people who come through our doors. But sometimes the best we can offer is to contain them, keep them comfortable, and hope that someone somewhere is working on something new. New things are discovered, or arrive, in the Nightside every day. So no, it wouldn’t be kinder to kill them all. Every day we keep them alive in spite of what’s been done to them is a victory. You can’t give up hope, Mr. Taylor. Hospitals run on hope.”

I nodded slowly. “And miracles do happen, even in the Nightside.”

“Perhaps especially in the Nightside,” said Julien Advent.

A handful of burly-looking nurses came bursting through the doorway; some of them carrying really big guns. They relaxed a little as they saw that the crisis was over, put the guns in the Ward locker, and moved immediately to see to the patients. Benway relaxed a little, too.

“The security doors must have opened. Let’s go to my office and talk.”

She gestured for Burke and Rabette, and they came back, reluctantly. Benway surprised them with a brief smile.

“Everybody runs, the first time. Not everyone comes back. Now, make sure the patients are settled and don’t be stingy with the tranqs. Stay here till everything’s back to normal, and I don’t want to hear any whining about overtime. The job is the job.”

Burke and Rabette nodded quickly and went back to work. Benway looked after them almost fondly.

“They’re young. They’ll adapt. Or they’ll leave the Hospice and move into some less nerve-racking job, like bomb disposal.”

•  •  •

Dr. Benway led us back through the corridors of the Hospice, her hands in her coat pockets, looking a lot more human. She smiled at Julien and actually nodded to me. Hospice personnel hurried past us, back to the wards and patients they’d been forced to abandon during the emergency. Patients were wheeled past on trolleys, or in wheel-chairs, or helped along by nurses and the cat-faced robots. They all nodded respectfully to Dr. Benway and ignored Julien and me. Benway sighed, deeply.

“I really wasn’t going to talk to you, Julien. I was going to leave you sitting around in the waiting area until you got the message and left of your own accord. But now that you, and especially Mr. Taylor here, have saved the day, the Hospice in general, and the patients of Ward 12A in particular, I can’t really say no, can I?” Julien started to say something, but she talked right over him. “We can’t talk here. Too many security cameras and far too many eyes and ears. We’ll talk in my office.”

She stopped abruptly and pushed back one sleeve to reveal a chunky bracelet of some shimmering metal, studded with read-outs and controls. She punched in a quick series of numbers, and next thing I knew we were all standing in a surprisingly comfortable-looking office. Benway gave us another of her quick smiles, sat down behind the desk, and waved for Julien and me to sit down on the visitors’ chairs.

“Teleport bracelet,” she said briskly. “Fell off the back of a Timeslip, from some future or other. It’s the only way I can be everywhere I need to be, in this place. Won’t work anywhere near Ward 12A because of the bracelet’s built-in protections. Sit! Sit!”

We sat. Her chair looked to be a lot more comfortable than ours. I made a point of looking round her office rather than waiting to be talked at. Let her wait for a bit. The office was all very neat, very business-like. All the usual comforts and luxuries. But not a single framed photo anywhere, of family or friends or loved ones. Not even a framed diploma on the wall behind the desk.

Benway caught my gaze or read my mind. “No memories of the past here, Mr. Taylor. Some of us can’t afford to look back. I don’t do nostalgia.”

“Is that why you aren’t ever pleased to see an old friend like me?” said Julien.

“I see you all the time, at Hospice committee meetings.”

“And you always choose a chair at the other end of the table, and you never say a word to me that you don’t have to.”

“You know very well why I stay away from you,” Benway said sharply. “Because I got old; and you didn’t. Look at me. I’m an old woman. Should have retired by now. Would have, if I could find anyone half-way decent to replace me. And you . . . you don’t look a day older than the day I first met you, back in 1967. How do you think that makes me feel?”

“Emily . . .”

“No, Julien. Dr. Benway; as far as you’re concerned. Now and always.” She paused, looking at him thoughtfully. “I saw Juliet, the other day.”

“Did you?” said Julien. “Did she ask after me?”

“No.”

Benway gave me her full attention, studying me with a cold, professional gaze. “I know you by reputation, Mr. Taylor. I’ve read many accounts of your various . . . adventures. I have to say I’m surprised we haven’t seen you in here before now.”

“Well, keep it to yourself,” I said. “But I have some diluted werewolf blood in me. Not nearly enough to trigger the change, but more than enough to give me a seriously souped-up healing factor.”

Julien sat up straight in his chair and looked at me accusingly. “You never told me that! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to see it turning up in the
Night Times
,” I said. “The best advantages are the ones your enemies don’t know exist.”

“You could have trusted me,” said Julien, a little put-out.

“Two men can keep a secret,” I said. “If one of them is dead. Unless he’s Dead Boy, of course, then you’re screwed.”

“But . . . when did this happen?” said Julien.

“Hell of a party,” I said solemnly. “You should have been there.”

“Why are you both here?” said Dr. Benway, loudly and forcefully. “Did you know something was going to happen in Ward 12A?”

“No,” said Julien. “Good thing we were here, though. Wasn’t it?”

“All right, I get it, hold the moral blackmail,” said Benway. “I owe you. But why did you need to talk to me so urgently?”

“It’s the Sun King,” said Julien. “He’s back. Here, in the Nightside.”

Dr. Benway sat very still in her chair. She looked like she’d been hit. All the colour dropped out of her face. She wasn’t even looking at Julien and me any more, her eyes far-away, remembering yesterday.

“Would you like a glass of water?” said Julien.

“No,” said Benway. “I’d like a glass of gin.”

She leaned over, breathing heavily, and rummaged around in a desk drawer before coming up with a bottle of Gordon’s Dry Gin and one glass. She poured herself a healthy measure, knocked it back in several quick sips, and immediately poured herself another. She didn’t offer any to us. Colour blazed in her cheeks, and her hands were very steady. She put the bottle and glass to one side though still in easy reach if she decided she wanted some more; and then she glared at Julien, ignoring me.

“You knew he was back; and you didn’t even warn me?”

“I’ve only known for a few hours,” Julien said steadily. “And John and I have only just met him, in the Garden of Green Henge. We came straight here.”

Benway considered this. “How . . . What was he like?”

“He looked the same,” said Julien. “But he was . . . different. Changed. Still immensely powerful, though.”

“Why has he come here? To the Nightside?”

“To destroy it,” I said flatly, tired of being left out of the conversation. “He thinks he can make the sun rise here and put an end to the night.”

Benway smiled briefly. “He always did think big; even when he was still just my Harry.”

“So you were Princess Starshine,” I said.

She winced. “Not for a long time! That . . . was somebody else.” She looked at the bottle and the empty glass. She started to reach out, then pulled her hand back again. She looked at Julien. “Did he ask after me?”

“No,” said Julien.

“But you think he’s coming here, to see me?”

“It seems likely,” said Julien. “For him, the Summer of Love is still recent history. And who else does he know here who might still remember him fondly? I have to ask, Emily; back when you were Princess Starshine, you had power of your own, briefly. Do you still . . .”

“Of course not! Do you think I’d let my patients suffer if I still had the power to help them? No . . . He took all that with him, when he went away. When he walked into the White Tower and left me behind.” She paused. “I can’t even remember what it felt like, to be . . . that other person, now. Most of my memories of that time have faded . . . More like a story that someone told to me, long ago. When I was young . . .”

Her phone rang suddenly, and we all jumped. Benway answered it quickly, listened for a while, and swore, briefly and dispassionately. She slammed the phone down, then fired up the computer screen on her desk. She looked at the scene before her and beckoned for both of us to come round the desk and join her. We were already up and moving. We peered over her shoulder, to see what she was looking at. The monitor screen showed a view of the Hospice lobby, and there he was, the Sun King, standing there in his Coat of Vivid Colours, looking happily around him at everyone else while everyone else looked at him. Patients who’d only returned from the previous crisis looked him over suspiciously while security people came hurrying forward from all sides. Because they could all feel the sheer power radiating off him. But once the security people had him surrounded, they didn’t know what to do. They stood there, helpless in the face of something so much bigger than them. They couldn’t even find the strength to point their guns at him.

The Sun King looked around him, taking his time, taking it all in, the patients and the security people and the new place he’d come to. He shook his head slowly, frowning. And then he clapped his hands, once; and every man, woman, and child in the lobby was completely cured of whatever ailed them. Illness was banished, fading organs were repaired, injuries put right. The lame walked, and the blind could see, and each and every person had an apple in their hand. The lobby was suddenly full of whoops and cheers, tears and laughter and celebration. Patients danced with each other, and the security people lowered their guns, smiling foolishly. And the Sun King stood there, in the middle of it all, enjoying every moment of it.

Dr. Benway was already up on her feet and working her teleport bracelet. Julien and I moved in close beside her, determined not to be left behind. Immediately, we were down in the lobby with everyone else. A party had broken out, with booze and glasses appearing as if by magic. Even the reception staff were dancing and giggling and hugging people. Benway headed straight for the Sun King, and everyone else took one look at her cold, determined face and got the hell out of her way. Julien and I stayed back. This was her moment. She slammed to a halt right before the Sun King, and he looked at her politely.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

It was obvious he didn’t recognise her. Hadn’t a clue who she was. Benway swayed on her feet, like he’d hit her. She made herself face him squarely.

“This is my Hospice. But then, you never did care whose toes you trod on, did you, Harry?”

The Sun King recognised her voice immediately. He looked at her closely, and his eyes widened, and for a moment he clearly didn’t know what to say.

“Yes,” she said flatly. “I got old. That’s what people do, in the real world.”

“You were so beautiful,” he said. “My Princess Starshine . . .”

“That was then, this is now.” Benway looked at him defiantly. “So here you are, back in town after all these years, and you didn’t even come to me first. I had to hear about your glorious return from someone else.”

“I had my work to be about,” said the Sun King.

“You always did,” said the woman who used to be a princess.

They looked at each other for a long moment, and both their faces softened. The Sun King put out a hand, and Benway took it, and they held on to each other like they would never let go. Everyone else watched, silently, caught up in the moment. They were in the presence of legends, and they knew it.

“Why?” Benway said finally. “Why didn’t you take me with you, into the White Tower? I tried to follow you in, but the wall closed after you . . . I called to you, pounded on the wall with my fists; but you never answered. Did your Big Cosmic Daddies order you not to let me in? Did they tell you I wasn’t worthy?”