Agents of Light and Darkness Page 16

  “What the hell have you got in there?”

  “Perpetual motion machine,” said the Collector. “Can’t figure out how to turn the damned thing off.”

  “You have so much amazing stuff here,” I said. “Who do you share it with? Who else gets to see all the marvels and wonders you’ve acquired?”

  “No-one, of course,” he said, looking at me as though I was crazy.

  “But…doesn’t half the fun of collecting lie in showing off your treasures to someone else?”

  “No,” said the Collector firmly. “It’s all to do with ownership. With knowing it’s mine, all mine. I do like to rub my rivals’ noses in it, now and again; show them proof that I have some hotly contested item that we’ve all been after. I drive them crazy with jealousy, then laugh in their faces. But in the end it wouldn’t matter to me if no-one knew what I had but me. It’s enough to know that I’ve won. That I’m the best.”

  “That’s all this is?” said Suzie. “Whoever dies with the most toys wins?”

  The Collector shrugged. “I don’t give a damn what happens to any of this stuff once I’m dead and gone. Let it rot, for all I care. I collect because…it’s what I’m good at. The only thing I’ve ever been good at. And things…possessions…can’t hurt you. Can’t leave you.”

  For a moment there, he actually looked human, and vulnerable. It didn’t suit him.

  “Do you want us to keep quiet about the things we’ve seen here?” I asked.

  “Hell no!” he said immediately, all his usual obnoxiousness returning in a moment. “Tell everyone! Drive them mad with curiosity and envy! My problem has always been that I can’t prove how big my collection is without bringing people here to see it, and, of course, I can’t do that. They’d only betray me and try to steal something. There are people who’ve spent their whole lives plotting how to get in here…”

  “You weren’t always the Collector,” I said. “I’ve seen photos of you, with my father, from when you were both younger. What were you…before this?”

  He looked at me, not bothering to hide his surprise. “I thought you knew. I worked for the Authorities, along with Walker and your father. Protecting the Nightside. We were all such friends, in those days. We had such plans, such hopes…but in the end it turned out we all had different plans and different hopes. I retired, before they could fire me, and set up on my own. One day I’ll own the whole damned Nightside. And then I’ll make them listen to me.”

  I was so fascinated by what he was saying and its implications that I didn’t notice all the robots sneaking up on us. Suzie did. Nothing gets past her. She realised I was mesmerised by the Collector’s hints and allusions, and elbowed me firmly in the ribs. I looked up and found we were surrounded by ranks and ranks of the the cat-faced robots, standing perfectly still and silent, watching coldly with their glowing cat’s eyes. There were hundreds of the damned things. The Collector realised that I’d finally noticed and stopped talking in mid sentence to laugh cheerfully in my face. He was well out of reach, and I had more sense than to try and make a grab for him. The robots looked decidedly…menacing.

  “I had to keep going until enough of my boys arrived,” he said, almost giggling with self-satisfaction. “You didn’t really think you could see my collection and my home, with all its secrets, and live, did you? To hell with Merlin, and the angels; nothing can touch me here. I’m protected by spells and tech beyond your imagination, and Merlin won’t catch me napping twice. The Unholy Grail is my greatest prize, the jewel of my collection, and I won’t give it up! I’ll never give it up! I’ll just stay here, safe on the Moon, until all this nonsense has blown over. And long before then, you’ll be in no condition to betray my secrets to anyone. Perhaps I’ll have what’s left of you stuffed and mounted. Something to brighten up the reception area.”

  “You’d kill the son of an old friend?” I said.

  “Of course,” said the Collector. “Why not?”

  He gestured to the waiting robots, and they surged forward in perfect unison. Suzie opened fire with her shotgun, blasting robots as fast as she could work the pump action. The robots shattered under the bullets’ impact, flying apart in showers of steel and brass shrapnel that had us all ducking for cover. Suzie kept firing, grinning fiercely as robots blew apart before her. Either she’d found a whole new kind of ammunition for her gun, or they didn’t build robots to last in the future.

  It helped that the narrow aisles meant the robots could only come at us a few at a time. Suzie and I put our backs to the wall of crates, while the Collector danced back and forth in the background, crying out miserably as some of his crates were inevitably damaged or destroyed by the exploding robots. Suzie pulled grenades from her belt, and lobbed half a dozen where they’d do the most good. Robots and crates blew apart in bowel-churning explosions, and for a while it seemed to be raining machine parts. The Collector cried out for Suzie to stop, and when she didn’t, he ran from crate to crate, prying them open and looking inside, searching for some weapon or device he could use against us. He didn’t seem to be having much luck. Suzie reloaded the shotgun from her bandoliers and went back to blowing robots apart like metal ducks in a shooting gallery. She was grinning widely now, her eyes hot and happy.

  But the robots kept pressing forward, forward, and there didn’t seem to be any end to their numbers. The Collector must have got a job lot. One of them got close enough to take a swipe at me with a clawed hand, and I decided enough was enough. This far from the Nightside, I didn’t have to worry about the angels seizing my soul again. So I opened my third eye, my private eye, and used my gift to locate the automatic shutdown commands in the robots’ minds. I knew they had to be there. The Collector didn’t trust anyone, not even his own creatures. He had to have a way to shut down the robots in case they ever turned against him. I hit the commands I’d found in those clever polymerised cat’s brains, and all the robots froze suddenly in mid motion. A few of them had got worryingly close. Suzie slowly lowered the smoking shotgun, took a deep breath, and turned to look at me.

  “You could have done that at any time, couldn’t you?”

  “Actually, yes.”

  “Then why did you wait so long!”

  “You looked like you were having fun.”

  Suzie considered that for a moment, then smiled and nodded. “You’re right. I was. Thank you, Taylor. You always did know how to show a girl a good time.”

  “All vicious gossip, rumours and lies,” I said. “Collector…Collector? Where are you?”

  We found him not far away, slumped exhausted and weeping over another open crate. Whatever it held was buried in plastic packing pieces. The Collector stirred them miserably with one hand, then looked up at us. He spat at me, but his heart wasn’t in it.

  “Look at what you’ve done…so many lovely things destroyed…It’ll take me weeks just to find out how much I’ve lost. Bullies, both of you. No respect for art, for the treasures of centuries…And I have weapons here! Great weapons, that would stop even you! I have the Horn of Jericho, Grendel’s Bane, even the legendary lost Sword of the Daun. But I can’t find them!”

  “Show us the Unholy Grail,” I said, not unkindly. “The sooner you hand it over, the sooner we’ll be gone.”

  The Collector nodded a few times, sniffing back tears, and finally dug his hands deep into the packing pieces before him.

  “I was packing it away when Merlin grabbed me. It is my greatest prize, but…the dark chalice is too disturbing to have around. The air’s always cold, the shadows have eyes, and I hear voices, whispering…things. Ah. Here.”

  He brought out a small beaten copper bowl, gleaming dully in the subdued lighting. It was dented and dull and not at all impressive. We all looked at it for a long moment, then the Collector offered it to us. I hesitated to touch the thing.

  “That’s it?” said Suzie. “That’s the dark chalice, the Unholy Grail? The cup Judas drank from at the Last Supper? That miserable-looking thing?”


  “What were you expecting?” said the Collector, smiling just a little at one last chance to show off his expertise. “You thought perhaps it would be some great silver chalice, studded with jewels? Romantic medieval claptrap. The Disciples were a bunch of poor fishermen. This is the kind of thing they drank out of.”

  “It’s the real deal,” I said. “I can feel it from here. It’s like every bad thought you ever had, wrapped up in one never-ending nightmare.”

  “Yeah,” said Suzie. “Like it’s poisoning the air, just by existing.”

  The Collector looked at me slyly. “You could keep it for yourself, Taylor. You could. This simple cup is powerful beyond all your wildest fantasies. It could make you rich, worshipped, adored. It can satisfy every dirty little yearning in your soul. It has the answer to every question you ever had. The truth about your past, your enemies…even your mother.”

  I looked at the Unholy Grail, and it was like looking into the heart of temptation. Suzie watched me carefully, but said nothing. She trusted me to do the right thing. And in the end, perhaps it was that trust that gave me the strength to turn away.

  “Put it in a bag, Collector. I wouldn’t dirty my hands by touching it.”

  The Collector pulled an airline carry-on bag out of the packing pieces and stuffed the Unholy Grail into it. He almost seemed relieved. I took the bag and slung the strap over my shoulder.

  “Merlin!” I said, raising my voice. “I know you’re listening. We’ve got it. Bring us home.”

  Merlin’s magic gathered about us, preparing to teleport Suzie and me back to Strangefellows, and the waiting angels. And in the last possible moment, when the Collector was sure the teleport spell had been activated and couldn’t be stopped, he stepped forward and shouted one last vicious hurt.

  “You’re not the only one who can find things, Taylor! There was a time I used to take commissions, in return for help in establishing my collection. I found your father for your mother! I put them together. Everything you are is because of me!”

  I went for his throat with furious hands, but Suzie and I were already fading away. The last thing I heard on the Moon was the Collector laughing, loud and bitterly, as though his heart would break.

  NINE

  For the Remission of Sins

  Strangefellows sprang into being around us again, and Suzie braced herself for the thick black smoke, but there wasn’t any this time. She looked suspiciously about her, and there was Merlin, no longer sprawled on his dark iron throne but leaning casually against the long wooden bar, a bottle of the good whiskey in one tattooed hand. He smiled unpleasantly and took a long drink from the bottle. I glanced at the gaping hole in Merlin’s chest, where his heart used to be, half-expecting to see the swallowed whiskey come running out of it.

  “Welcome back, far travellers,” said Merlin. “In deference to your delicate feelings, I dispensed with the smoke this time. Typical of youngsters today. No respect for tradition. Probably wouldn’t know what to do with a newt’s eye if I slapped it in your hand.”

  I stepped forward, and he stopped talking. “Send us back!” I said, my hands clenched into fists, so angry it was all I could do to get the words out. “Send us back, right now. Better still, grab the Collector again and haul his nasty arse back down here, so I can beat the truth out of him with my bare hands.”

  “Easy, tiger,” said Suzie, moving in close beside me. Her voice was surprisingly gentle. “I’m the violent one in this partnership, remember?”

  “Things change,” I said, not taking my eyes off Merlin. “I want the Collector here, right now. He knows things. Things about my mother, and my father. And I will break his bones one by one, and make him eat every last piece, until he tells me what I need to know.”

  “Wow,” said Suzie. “Hard-core, Taylor.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Merlin, still leaning against the bar, entirely unmoved by the raw fury in my voice and eyes. “The Collector has disappeared from his lair under the Moon’s surface, taking his collection with him. I can’t see him anywhere. Which ought to be impossible, but that’s the modern age for you. No doubt I’ll track him down eventually, but that will take time. For a mere mortal, he’s surprisingly elusive.”

  I was so angry and frustrated I could hardly breathe, ready to lash out at anyone, even Merlin. Suzie moved as close to me as she could without actually touching me, calming me with her presence, and slowly the red haze began to lift from my thoughts. It’s always thoughts of family that drive me crazy, and it’s always my friends who bring me back.

  “Let it go, John,” Suzie said calmly, reasonably. “There’ll be other times. He can’t hide from us forever. Not from us.”

  “And now it’s time for me to go,” said Merlin. “You have the sombre chalice in that bag. I can feel its awful presence from here. I can’t be this close to it. Too many bad memories…and far too much temptation. I may be dead, but I’m not stupid.”

  “Thanks for your help,” I made myself say, in an almost normal tone. “We’ll meet again, I’m sure.”

  “Oh yes,” said Merlin. “We have unfinished business, your mother and I.”

  And before I could pursue that any further he was gone, disappearing back into his ancient grave somewhere deep under the wine cellar. The arrogant bastard always had to have the last word. Reality flexed and shuddered, and Alex Morrisey was suddenly back among us again, sitting slumped in the middle of the pentacle. He groaned loudly and shook his head slowly. He realised he had a bottle of whiskey in his hand and took a stiff drink. He almost choked getting the stuff down, but he was determined.

  “I should have known he’d get into the good stock,” he said bitterly. “Damn. I hate it when he manifests through me. My head will be full of corrupt Latin and Druidic chants for days.” He shuddered suddenly, unable to continue with his usual facade. He looked at me, and I knew that behind his ubiquitous shades, his eyes were full of betrayal. “You bastard, Taylor. How could you do that to me? I thought we were friends.”

  “We are friends,” I said. “I know that can be difficult, sometimes. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re always sorry, John. But it never stops you screwing up people’s lives.”

  I didn’t say anything, because I couldn’t. He was right. He struggled to his feet. I offered him a hand, but he slapped it aside. Lucy and Betty Coltrane moved quickly in and got him on his feet again, supporting him between them until his legs were firm again. He looked at the airline bag slung over my shoulder and gestured jerkily at it with his whiskey bottle.

  “Is that it? Is that what you risked my sanity and soul for? Get the damned thing out and let me take a look at it. Haven’t I earned the right? I want to see it.”

  “No you don’t,” I said. “It’s vile. Poisonous. Your eyes could rot in your head just from looking at it for too long. It’s dark and it’s evil and it corrupts all who come into contact with it. Just like its original owner.”

  Alex sneered at me. “You always were a frustrated drama queen, Taylor. Show me. I’ve a right to see what I suffered for.”

  I opened the airline bag and took out the copper bowl, holding it carefully by the edges. It was feverishly hot to the touch, and my skin crawled at the contact. It felt as though someone new had entered the bar, someone terribly old and horribly familiar. Part of me wanted to throw the thing away, and part of me wanted to clutch it to my breast and never give it up. Alex leaned forward for a better look, but didn’t try to touch it. Just as well. I wouldn’t have let him.

  “That’s it?” said Alex. “I wouldn’t serve a cheap claret in that.”

  “You’re not going to get the chance,” I said, trying to keep my voice normal. I stuffed the bowl back into the bag, though the effort brought beads of sweat to my brow. “This nasty little thing is going straight to the Vatican, where hopefully they will have the good sense to lock it up somewhere extremely safe, until the End of Time.”

  “If only it was that simple,” said Walker.

/>   We all looked round sharply as the Authorities’ chief voice in the Nightside came strolling unhurriedly down the metal stairs into the bar. He still looked every inch the city gent out on his lunch break. Calm and sophisticated, and very much the master of the moment. He glanced at the pitch-darkness filling the bar’s shattered windows, but didn’t seem in the least perturbed by it, as though he saw something like it every day. And perhaps he did. This was Walker, after all. Alex scowled at him.

  “Perfect. What the hell are you doing here, Walker? And how did you get in?”

  “I’m here because the angels want me to be here,” said Walker easily, striding across the floor to join us and stopping just short of the pentacle’s salt lines. He glanced at it briefly and looked away, managing to imply that he’d seen much better workmanship in his day. Walker could say a lot with a look and a raised eyebrow. He tipped his bowler hat to us and smiled pleasantly. “The angels contacted the Authorities and made a deal, and the Authorities sent me here to implement it. And while this club’s defences are more than adequate to keep out the usual riffraff, they’re no barrier to me. I have been empowered by the Authorities to go wherever I have to go, to carry out their wishes. And right now, they want the Unholy Grail. They intend to hand it over to the angels, in return for…certain future considerations. And an end to all violence and destruction in the Nightside, of course.”

  “Which set of angels?” I asked.

  Walker shrugged and smiled charmingly. “Yet to be determined, I believe. Whoever makes the better offer. I understand it could go either way. Still, that isn’t really any of your business, is it? Give me the Unholy Grail, and we can all get on with our lives again.”