Even royalty came to sit at the feet of the Griffins and beg discreetly for boons and favours. We get them all in the Nightside—kings and queens in exile, princes of This and lairds of That, and every rank and station you can think of. They arrive via Timeslips from other worlds and times and dimensions, cut off forever from their own people, power, and riches. Some buckle down and make something new of themselves. Most don’t. Because they don’t know how. They still expect to be treated as royalty just because they once were, and get really upset when the Nightside makes it clear it doesn’t give a damn. Mostly they hole up together in private little members-only clubs, where they can all address each other by their proper titles and spend most of their time angling for invitations to the Griffins’ latest ball or soiree. Because acceptance by the Griffins validates their special nature in the eyes of all. Unfortunately, there are so many aristos running around that the Griffins can pick and choose. And they do. You get one chance to prove yourself interesting or amusing, and then you’re Out. Zog, King of the Pixies, was notorious for continually trying to crash the Griffins’ parties, even after it was made clear to him that he was not welcome, and never would be, no matter with whom he arrived.

(He peed on the floor. Apparently where he came from, a servant used to follow him around with a bucket. And a mop.)

Mariah had always had pretensions to taste and style, but unfortunately possessed none herself, and so was dependent upon a series of fashion and social advisors to help her decide who was In and who was Out, and which fads and styles would be followed each Season. But it was Mariah alone who enforced these decisions, with a whim of iron. And so the advisors shoved and elbowed at each other to get closest to Mariah, and argued every point with loud and affected voices, accompanied by large, dramatic gestures. Which occasionally degenerated into blows or slapping matches. Advisors could make or break a social reputation with a word or a glance, and everyone knew it, which was why these poor unfortunates had many acquaintances but few real friends. If the truth were known, they were probably even more paranoid and insecure than the social climbers who hung on their every word.

In the end Mariah got bored or impatient pretending I wasn’t there and abruptly ordered everyone else out of the room. Including Hobbes, still lurking by the door. Everyone left, with varying degrees of reluctance, bowing and scraping and blowing kisses all the way, until finally the door closed behind the last of them, and Mariah Griffin and I were left looking at each other. She studied me coolly, trying to decide whether I was someone who could be commanded or someone she would have to flatter a little to get her way. In the end she smiled sweetly, batted her long eyelashes coquettishly, and patted the pink eiderdown beside her.

“Come here and sit with me, John Taylor. So I can get a proper look at you.”

I walked forward, pulled up a chair, and sat down facing her, careful to maintain a safe distance. She pouted at me and eased down the front of her nightdress a little more, so I could get a good look at her cleavage. She wasn’t upset by my caution. I could see it in her eyes. She always liked it better if the prey struggled a little first. Up close her scent was almost overpowering, the reek of crushed petals soaked in pure animal musk.

“I have some questions,” I said.

“Well of course you do…John. That is what you private investigators do, isn’t it? Interrogate your suspects? I don’t think I’ve ever met a real private eye before. So thrilling…”

“You don’t seem too upset over your grand-daughter’s disappearance,” I said, to get things started.

Mariah shrugged. “She’s simply being a nuisance, as always. Sanctimonious little dear. Never happy unless she’s interfering in the way I run my life, and upsetting all my plans…This is simply another plea for attention. Run away from home, get her grandfather’s undivided interest, then turn up safe and sound a few days later, happy and smiling and perfectly safe, looking like butter wouldn’t melt in her arse, the little minx. And Jeremiah will take her back in as though nothing has happened. She always could twist him round her little finger.”

“You don’t believe she was kidnapped?”

“Of course not! The security built into this house has kept this family safe for centuries. No-one could have got in or out without setting off all kinds of hidden alarms, unless someone in the know had deactivated them in advance. It’s another of her attention-getting schemes, the stuck-up little bitch.”

“Am I to take it you two don’t get on?”

Mariah snorted loudly, a very unladylike sound. “My children have always been disappointments to me. My grand-children even more so. Jeremiah is the only person in the world who has ever mattered to me, the only one who ever really cared about me. You don’t know who I was, what I used to be, before he found me and made me his wife, and made me immortal. Of course you don’t know. No-one does, anymore. I’ve seen to it, believe you me. But I remember, and so does he, and I will always love him for that.” She realised her voice was getting a bit loud and made a deliberate effort to regain her composure. “Melissa’s current whereabouts are a matter of complete indifference to me, John.”

“Even though she stands to inherit the whole family fortune, while you and your children get nothing?”

She smiled at me with her bee-stung lips, red as blood, and studied me hungrily with her dark, hooded eyes. “You’re younger than I thought you’d be. Even handsome, in a hard-used sort of way. You think I’m beautiful, don’t you, John? Of course you do. Everyone does. They have for centuries…I will never grow old, John, never lose my looks or vitality. I shall live lifetimes, and always be lovely. That’s what he promised me…Say you think I’m beautiful, John. Come closer, and say it to my face. Touch me, John. You’ve never felt anything like my skin, young and fresh and vital for centuries…”

My mouth was dry and my hands were trembling. Sex beat on the air between us, raw and potent as an elemental force. I didn’t like her, but just then, at that moment, I wanted her…I made myself sit very still, and the madness quickly passed. Perhaps because Mariah was already losing her concentration. When I didn’t immediately weaken, her butterfly mind moved on to other matters.

“Fashions come and go, but I remain, John, forever lovely as a summer’s day…That’s the one thing I do miss, you know. Eternal night may be very glamorous, but anything can get tiring when it goes on and on without changing…It’s been so long since I felt the warmth of sunlight on my face and the caress of a passing breeze…”

She prattled on, and I listened carefully, but I didn’t learn anything useful. Mariah had been a shallow creature before Jeremiah made her immortal, and centuries of living, if not experience, had done little to change that. Perhaps she was incapable of change, frozen the way she was when Jeremiah took her out of Time, like an insect trapped in amber. She was Queen of Nightside Society, and that was all she cared about. Other queens might arise to challenge her grip, but in the end she would always win because she was immortal, and they were not.

She stopped talking abruptly and studied me thoughtfully, as though she’d only just remembered I was still there. “So you’re the famous John Taylor. One does hear such stories about you…Was your mother really a Biblical myth? Did you really save us all from extinction during the recent War? They say you could have been king of the Nightside, if you’d wanted…Tell me about your glamorous assistants, Razor Eddie, Dead Boy, Shotgun Suzie.”

“Glamorous?” I said, smiling despite myself. “Not quite the word I would have chosen.”