I started off down the alley, and Joanna strode along beside me, her heels clacking loudly on the cobbles. She was working her way up to asking me something intrusive. I could tell.

"Eddie said bad people were looking for you," she said finally.

"Don't worry. The Nightside is a big place to get lost in. We'll have found your daughter and be long gone before anyone can catch up to us."

"If people are always looking for you here... why don't you just stay out of the Nightside?"

I did her the courtesy of considering the matter for a few moments. It was a serious question, and deserved a serious answer. "I tried, for five long years. But the Nightside is seductive. There's nothing in

everyday London to match it. It s like living in colour, instead of black and white. Everything's more intense here, more primal. Things matter more, here. Beliefs, actions, lives ... can have more significance, in the great scheme of things. But in the end, it all comes down to the fact that I can make a much better living here, than I can in London. My gift only works in the Nightside. I'm somebody, here, even if 1 don't always like who that person is. Besides, you can't let anyone tell you where you can and can't go. It's bad for business."

"Alex said this was your home. Where you belong."

"Home is where the heart is," I said. "And most people don't dare reveal their heart here. Someone would eat it."

"Eddie said they were bad people," Joanna said stubbornly. "And he looked like the kind who would know bad. Be honest with me. Are we in any immediate danger?"

"Always, in the Nightside. All kinds of people end up here, drawn and driven by passions and needs that can't properly be expressed or satisfied anywhere else. And a lot of them like to play rough. But most of them know better than to mess with me."

She looked at me, amused. "Hard man."

"Only when I have to be."

"Are you armed?"

"I don't carry a gun," I said. "I've never felt the need."

"I can look after myself too," she said suddenly.

"I don't doubt it," I assured her. "Or I would never have let you come with me."

"So, who's this Suzie, that Eddie said we'd meet at the Fortress?"

I looked straight ahead. "Ask a lot of questions, don't you?"

"I believe in getting my money's worth. Who is she? An old flame? An old enemy?"

"Yes."

"Is she going to be a problem?"

"Perhaps. We have a history."

Joanna was smiling. Women like to know things like that. "Does she owe you a favour too?"

I sighed, reluctantly realising that Joanna wasn't going to be put off by curt, monosyllabic answers. Some women just have to know everything, even when it's patently none of their business.

"Not so much a favour; more like a bullet in the back of the head. So ... Suzie Shooter. Also known as Shotgun Suzie, also known as Oh God, it's her, run! The only woman ever thrown out of the SAS for unacceptable brutality. Works as a bounty hunter, in and around the Nightside. Probably got paper on someone hiding out in the Fortress."

Joanna was looking at me closely, but I kept on looking straight ahead, my face carefully calm. "All

right," she said finally. "Would she be willing to help us?"

"She might. If you can afford her."

"Money is no object, where my daughter is concerned."

I looked at her. "If I'd known that, I'd have charged you more."

She started to laugh, and then it turned into a cough, as she hugged herself hard again. "Damn, it's cold! I can hardly feel my fingers. I'll be glad to get back into the light again. Maybe it'll be warmer, out on the street."

I stopped abruptly, and she stopped with me. She was right. It was cold. Unnaturally cold. And we'd been walking for far too long still to be in the alley. We should have reached the street long before this. I looked behind me, and Strangefellow's small neon sign was just a glowing coal in the dark, far away. I looked back at the alley exit, and it was no nearer now than when we'd started. The alley had grown while I was distracted by Joanna's questions. Someone had been playing with the structure of space, stretching the alley ... the energy drain manifesting as the sudden cold ... I could feel the trap closing in around me. Now I was looking for it, I could sense magic in the air, crackling like static, stirring the hair on my arms. Everything seemed far away, and what sounds there were came slow and dull, as though we

were underwater. Someone had taken control of the space around us, like closing the lid on a box.

And as I looked, six dark silhouettes appeared, blocking the exit to the alley. Dark men in dark suits, waiting for me to come to them.

"Next time you want to pick a fight," Joanna said quietly, "do it on your own time. It would appear Ffinch-Thomas' daddy has sent reinforcements."

I nodded, trying hard not to let my relief show in my face. Of course; Ffinch-Thomas and his threats. Druid magic and city honour. No problem. I could handle half a dozen yuppie Druid wannabes, and send them home crying to their mothers. The alley spell would collapse soon enough, once I shattered their concentrated will with a little practiced brutality. And then a pale ruddy light filled the alley, leaking out of nowhere, illuminating the scene in shades of blood so Someone else could enjoy the show, and for the first time I saw clearly what was waiting for me at the end of the alley. And I was so scared I nearly vomited right there and then.

They stood together, six of them, things that looked like men but were not men. Human in shape, but not in nature, they wore plain black suits, with neat string ties and highly polished shoes, and slouch hats with the brims pulled low, but that was just part of the disguise. Something to help them blend in, so they could walk the streets without people screaming. It worked, until you looked under the brims of

their hats, to where their faces should have been. They had no faces. Just utterly blank expanses of skin, from chin to brow. They had no eyes, but they could still see. No ears, but they could hear. No mouths or noses, but then, they didn't need to breathe. There was something uniquely horrid about the sight, an offence against nature and common sense, foul enough to sicken any sane man.

I knew them, from before. They were fast and they were strong, and they never got tired; and once they had been set on your trail they'd track you to Perdition itself and never once falter. I had seen them tear people literally limb from limb, and trample over screaming bodies. Oh yes, I knew them, of old. They moved forward suddenly, calm and unhurried, stepping out in perfect unison, advancing on me in complete silence, with not even the sound of their own footsteps to accompany them.

I made a sound in the back of my throat, the kind of sound a fox makes when it sees the hounds closing in. Or the sound of a man who can't wake up from a nightmare. I was so scared I was shaking, sweat running down my face. My own personal bogeymen, my pursuers since childhood, come for me at last. Joanna saw my fear, and it quickly infected her too. After seeing some of the things I'd taken in my stride, she knew these had to be really bad. She had no idea. Inside, I was screaming. After all the years of running and hiding, they'd finally found me.

And I was going to die hard, and bloody, and people would vomit when they saw what was left of me. I'd seen their work.

I looked back over my shoulder, wondering if I had time to reach Strangefellows. Maybe run through the bar, and out the back, through the old cellars . .. but they were already there. Six more of them, standing together, cutting me off from hope and safety and all chance of escape. I hadn't even sensed them appearing. I'd spent too long in the everyday world. Got soft, and careless. I looked back at the six bearing down on me. I was breathing hard, my hands opening and closing helplessly.