5
SECRETS COME TO LIGHT
Rowan sat up stiffiy in bed and groaned loudly. She hurt all over, and her mouth tasted foul. She felt more tired now than when she’d gone to bed. She reached painfully over to the bedside table and grabbed the cupful of potion she’d prepared earlier. She took a quick sip, then leaned back against the headboard and looked unhappily at the sickly green stuff in the cup. Putting mint in to flavour it had definitely been a mistake. It must have clashed with something. On the other hand, it couldn’t taste much worse than her mouth did anyway. She lifted the cup determinedly while her nerve held out, and gulped the horrid stuff down. It tasted even worse than she felt, and she indulged herself by pulling awful faces as she, put the cup down on the table. She paused in mid-grimace as she noticed the steaming cup of tea on the silver tray, also resting on the bedside table. Her mouth flattened into a thin line. Tomb had been in her room again. She was going to have to do something about Tomb.
Rowan began to feel a little better as the potion began its work, and she pushed back the bedclothes and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She picked up the cup of tea, looked at it for a moment, and then sipped at it cautiously. It was strong and sweet, and a pleasant warmth moved through her. Say what you would about Tomb, and she could think of a lot, most of it based around the word irritating, the fact remained that he made a good cup of tea. Still, she was definitely going to have to do something about him. She’d made it as clear as she could that she had no feelings of any kind for him and would be just as happy if he’d find somebody else to pester, but he seemed determined not to get the point. Maybe she should try something more direct, like hitting him. She didn’t really want to be unpleasant about it, but it might be kinder in the long run. It certainly wasn’t fair to let him go on hanging around like this.
She smiled sourly as she sipped her tea. Not that she had time for any more complications in her life, but if someone had to fall for her, why couldn’t it have been Buchan? All right, he was a few years older than she, but he still had one hell of a body. He was more experienced than Tomb, more sophisticated; he would have understood the situation. They could have had a marvellous, uncomplicated affair that was fun while it lasted but nothing to fret over when it was finished. But no. The dashing, debonair, handsome Charles Buchan couldn’t be bothered to look at a dumpy little thing like her. He had to save himself for those stinking bitches at the Sisters of Joy. She sighed wistfully. Such a waste of a good man ... but then, that was the way the world went. Nothing was what it seemed, nobody could be trusted, and there was no point in believing in anything unless you could hold it in your hand and check it for flaws. A harsh philosophy, but better than nothing.
She looked at the travelling clock on the mantelpiece. Buchan should be back from the Hellfire Club soon, along with the two Guards. She scowled, thinking about Hawk and Fisher. They were going to be trouble; she’d known that from the moment she first met them. They didn’t understand what was happening on the Street of Gods, but that wouldn’t stop them from charging blindly in, trying to put things right by brute force. They were fools, but they were dangerous fools. She yawned suddenly, and took a long, slow stretch. She looked wistfully at her warm, comfortable bed. Just another half-hour’s rest would feel so good....
She heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and tensed. Her head was still too muzzy for her to See who it was. The footsteps came unhurriedly along the landing and stopped outside her door. There was a long pause, followed by a hesitant knock. Rowan relaxed, and let out her breath in a quiet sigh. She knew that knock.
“Come in, Tomb.”
The sorcerer opened the door and came in, shot a quick glance at Rowan to see how she was, and then smiled winningly at her. “Just thought I’d look in and check you were up. The others will be back soon.”
“Yes, I know. I’m feeling much better, thank you.”
“That’s good. I’m glad.”
“Tomb?”
“Yes, Rowan?”
“Do you think you could shut the door? It’s rather drafty in here.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course.”
He pushed the door shut, turned back, and tried his winning smile again. Rowan realised she was still holding the teacup and put it down on the tray.
“Thank you for leaving me tea again. That was very sweet of you.”
“You’re welcome.” The sorcerer grinned and nodded his head, pleased.
Just like a puppy that’s done a trick correct, and wants to be patted and told he’s a good dog, thought Rowan tiredly. How the hell can a first-class sorcerer like Tomb be such an idiot when it comes to women? I really don’t need this. Not now.
Tomb’s smile slowly disappeared, and he shuffled his feet uncertainly. “You know, Rowan, I really am getting rather concerned about you.”
“You are? Why?”
“Well, this isn’t the first time you’ve been ill like this, is it?”
“There’s no need for you to worry. I’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing.”
Tomb visibly braced himself to disagree with her. “I know you have a lot of faith in your potions, Rowan, but I really would be a lot happier if you’d let me call in a doctor, just to look you over and make sure it’s nothing serious.”
Rowan glared at him. “I do not need a doctor. How many times do I have to tell you, Tomb? My health and how I look after myself are none of your business.”
“But I do worry about you.”
“Don’t. There’s no reason why you should be so concerned. Just because I’m part of the God Squad doesn’t give you the right to hover around me like a broody hen. You’re an acquaintance of mine, Tomb; nothing more. Is that clear?”
Tomb nodded slowly. “Yes, Rowan. Very clear.”
“Now, don’t go all sulky on me. How long have I got before the Guards get back with Buchan?”
Tomb’s face went blank for a moment as he used the Sight. “They’re just approaching the front door. I’d better go down and greet them. If you’re sure you’re all right now ...”
“I’m fine.”
“Then I’ll see you in a while.”
He turned and left the room quickly, before she could say anything else. Rowan heaved a quiet but vehement sigh of relief. She knew she shouldn’t be so harsh with him, but that damned puppy dog routine of his was getting on her nerves. Always doing her little favours, so she’d have to say something nice to him ... She got up off the bed, stripped off her nightgown, and reached for her clothes. She was looking forward to hearing Hawk and Fisher tell about what had happened at the Hellfire Club.
Everyone was back in their favourite chairs in the drawing room. Tomb handed round long, narrow glasses of his syrupy sherry, and everyone except Hawk accepted the wine with a smile. Hawk sat back in his chair and tried not to feel like a barbarian. There was a quiet moment as everyone else sipped at their drinks.
“Let’s start with the Hellfire Club,” said Rowan finally. “What did you think of them, Captain Hawk?”
“A bunch of amateurs, playing with magic and jumping at shadows,” said Hawk bluntly. “No danger to anyone, except maybe themselves.”
“But did you turn up any connection to the God Killings?” asked Tomb, sitting forward on the edge of his chair, as though anxious not to miss a syllable.
“Not really,” said Fisher. “But we did come across something interesting. Before we were seconded to you, Hawk and I were investigating the murder of a sorcerer named Bode.” She didn’t miss the quickly stifled reactions from Buchan and Rowan at Bode’s name, but carried on as though she hadn’t noticed. “We didn’t have time to find out who killed him, but we did discover that Bode had been hired by some unknown person to carry out a secret mission on the Street of Gods.”
“Did he succeed in this mission?” said Tomb.
“We don’t know,” said Fisher. “We didn’t find any evidence directly linking him to the God Killings, but we did discover that Bode had been experimenting with homunculi; that is, magically produced physical duplicates.”
“Yes, yes,” said Rowan impatiently. “We all know what a homunculus is.”
Fisher gave Rowan a hard look that didn’t faze the mystic a bit, and then continued. “Somehow, Bode invested one of these duplicates with all his rage and hate, and set it to guard his house against intruders. He called it the Dark Man. It was huge, muscular, and very nasty. It murdered at least four people that we know of. Hawk and I killed it.”
“This is all very interesting,” said Rowan, “but what has it got to do with the Hellfire Club? Or the God Killings?”
Fisher looked at Hawk to see if he’d like to continue with the story, but he was busy looking for some convenient receptacle into which he could surreptitiously empty his sherry glass. Fisher sighed quietly, and continued. “On our way back from studying the murder sites of the three dead Beings, we were attacked by a second Dark Man. We killed him. A third Dark Man tried to kill us at the Hellfire Club. We killed that one too.”
For a long moment no one said anything. Tomb was frowning deeply. “Did you notice any differences between the three homunculi?”
“Yeah,” said Fisher. “They’re getting harder to kill.”
“More than that,” said Hawk, putting down his empty sherry glass. “They were all unnaturally strong, but the muscular development was different each time. There was no way it could have been the same body ... and yet, each time we met, the Dark Man was much harder to deal with. It’s as though he learns from his previous mistakes. I think there’s one single mind controlling all the homunculi, jumping from body to body. It’s also quite possible that there are more Dark Men out there somewhere, waiting for another chance at us.”
The God Squad looked at each other. “Can you tell us anything about this sorcerer Bode?” said Rowan.
“Well,” said Hawk, “apart from his having a mysterious mission on the Street of Gods at the same time as the Gods started dying, apparently he also gave Lord Arthur Sinclair the original inspiration for the Hellfire Club. Bode does seem to get around, doesn’t he? Did any of you know him?”
Buchan nodded slowly. “I met him a few times, on the Street of Gods. Seemed a pleasant enough sort, though I never did find out what he was doing on the Street. I haven’t seen him for some time.”
“Was this before or after the God Killings began?” said Fisher.
“Before, I think,” said Buchan.
“Did you ever meet his girlfriend?” said Hawk.
Buchan shook his head. “Didn’t know he had one. Is she important?”
“Beats me,” said Hawk. “Anyone else here know Bode?”
“I met him once or twice,” said Rowan. “He was asking questions on the Street, so I checked him out, just to see what he was up to. We get all sorts down here, and it pays to be careful. He was a bit vague about what he was doing on the Street, but that’s not unusual. He seemed harmless enough, so I let him be.”
“What kind of questions was he asking?” said Fisher.
Rowan shrugged. “Questions about the Gods. Their powers, their backgrounds, things like that. The usual tourist stuff. And I didn’t see any girlfriend, either.”
Hawk sat quietly a moment, letting his thoughts settle. Bode was turning out to be an important link in the case, but they didn’t really know anything about him. Perhaps he should contact the Guards in charge of the Bode killing, and have them send over all the papers found in Bode’s house. Maybe there was something in them that would shed more light on the sorcerer....
“Assuming all the homunculi have a single mind,” said Tomb slowly, “the important question must be who is controlling them.”
“Well, Bode, I would assume,” said Rowan. “After all, the Dark Men are all versions of his own body. Perhaps he knew he was going to die, so he committed suicide and transferred his soul into one of the homunculi. That way he’d be free to continue with his mission. Whatever it is.”
“Suicide?” said Fisher. “The cause of death was a single stab wound through the heart! If it was suicide, what happened to the knife?”
“That’s a good point,” said Buchan. “But if it isn’t Bode, who is it?”
“Presumably the anonymous person who gave him his mission,” said Hawk. “Whoever it is didn’t want to be seen on the Street of Gods in person. Which suggests that somebody would have known him and recognised him.”
“Or her,” said Fisher. “Remember the girlfriend?. That could have been our unknown person, emerging briefly from the shadows to give Bode new orders.”
“This is getting complicated,” said Buchan. “If we assume the Dark Men aren’t really Bode, why are they still after Hawk and Fisher?”
“Because we’re dangerous,” said Hawk. “We’re getting closer to the truth, and the Dark Man knows it.”
“Wait a minute,” said Tomb. “We’re overlooking something important. Did I understand you to say that the sorcerer Bode was killed in his own house? Why didn’t his magic protect him?”
“Good question,” said Hawk. “We don’t know. When we got there, there was no trace of magic anywhere in the house; no wards, no booby traps, nothing.”
“That’s insane,” said Tomb flatly. “Even after his death, the protective wards should still have been there. They usually have to be dismantled by another sorcerer. Dammit, every sorcerer has wards of some kind; you can’t work without them.”
“All right,” said Hawk. “So it’s crazy. Doesn’t surprise me. The whole damn case is crazy.”
“But it is definitely looking more and more like one case,” said Fisher.
“It seems to me,” said Buchan, “that we’re not going to get anywhere until we can find out what Bode was doing here on the Street. That’s got to be the key to everything.”
“So it would seem,” said Tomb. “In which case, it’s fortunate I asked an acquaintance of mine to join us here this evening. I thought Hawk and Fisher ought to meet him. He’s very knowledgeable about the Street of Gods. It’s said that nothing happens on the Street that he doesn’t know about, often before it happens.”
“Oh, no,” said Buchan. “You haven’t. You haven’t called him in, have you? Not Lacey?”
“Dirty little sneak,” muttered Rowan.
“He serves a purpose,” said Tomb firmly. He turned to Hawk and Fisher and smiled, almost apologetically. “In order to do our job here on the Street, we have to be in constant touch with everything that’s going on. Given the nature of the Street of Gods, that can be rather difficult. Rowan and I both have the Sight, but there’s a limit to how much ground we can cover. So we are forced to depend on various reliable sources for our information.”
“Right,” said Buchan. “Half our budget goes on bribe money.”
“And most of that goes to Lacey,” said Rowan.
“He’s always proved most useful to us,” said Tomb. “He has his own organisation of informants and eavesdroppers. They bring him all the news, rumour, and gossip, and he puts it all together. He’s predicted more trends, business deals, heresies, and conspiracies than all our other sources put together.”
“He’s also a nasty, repellent little creep, and he makes my skin crawl,” said Rowan.
“We know the sort,” said Hawk. “We use informants in our line of work, too.”
“How much do you pay them?” asked Buchan.
Hawk grinned. “Isobel lets them live. They seem happy to settle for that.”
“Anyway,” said Tomb, “our man Lacey is waiting just down the hall. With your permission, I’ll have him join us.”
He looked around for objections, but no one said anything. Buchan clearly didn’t give a damn, and Rowan was sulking. Tomb gestured sharply with his left hand, and the drawing room door swung open on its own.
“Do come in, Lacey. There’s a good feHow!” said Tomb loudly.
There was a pause, and then a wide, fleshy figure appeared in the doorway, smiling ingratiatingly. He was better than average in height, but his great bulk made him look shorter. He moved slowly but with surprising grace, and something in the way he held himself suggested he was no stranger to violence, should it prove necessary. He had a round bland face, the main features of which were his small, dark eyes and constant smile. Fisher didn’t like the smile. It looked practised. His hair was dark and greasy, plastered flat and parted neatly down the middle. Just looking at him, you knew immediately that you could trust him completely, provided you kept up the payments, but that the moment you ran out of money he’d disappear in an instant. The smile got worse the more you saw of it; the insincerity of it grated on the nerves like fingernails on a blackboard. All in all, Lacey was the kind of man you didn’t want to shake hands with, in case some of his personality rubbed off on you.
“My dear Tomb, how nice to see you again. Looking well, as always. And your charming associates, Buchan and Rowan; two of my favourite people.” His voice sounded exactly the way you’d expect it to. Soft and breathy and thoroughly oily. The kind of sound a toad would make if it was trying to sell you a horse that nobody wanted. “Always happy to be of service to you, my friends. Now then, I see we have guests present; Captains of our illustrious city Guard, no less. Will you honour me with your names, sir and madam?”
“Captain Hawk and Captain Fisher,” said Hawk. “We’re here on official business.”
Something happened to Lacey’s face. He didn’t flinch and he didn’t stop smiling, but his eyes were suddenly cold and watchful. He looked very much as though he’d like to see how far it was to the door but didn’t quite dare look. Apparently even on the Street of Gods, people had heard of Hawk and Fisher.
“The renowned Captains Hawk and Fisher; an honour indeed to make your acquaintance. What can I do for you?”
“We need information,” said Rowan. “Not long ago, a sorcerer named Bode appeared on the Street, asking questions about the Gods. What can you tell us about him?”
Lacey smiled like a decrepit cherub, lowered himself into the one remaining chair, and laced his fingers across his vast stomach. “Bode. Yes, I know that name.” He paused a moment, to arrange his weight more comfortably, and the chair creaked loudly. He smiled about him pleasantly, and then began to speak without pause or hesitation, as though he’d only been waiting for permission to speak a piece he’d already prepared. For all Hawk knew, that might just be the case.
“Bode was a low-level sorcerer,” said Lacey. “Mainly interested in alchemy and the production of homunculi. An expensive interest, which he supported through his extensive knowledge of pills and potions. He was well known in his field, but was never going to be anyone important. He lacked the drive, and the determination. He knew this, but it didn’t seem to bother him. He was not, by all accounts, ambitious.
“He first appeared on the Street of Gods just over a month ago, asking questions about the powers and backgrounds of the Gods. Where they came from, what attributes they possessed, why people worshipped them—the usual tourist stuff. Unlike most tourists, however, Bode wasn’t prepared to settle for the usual answers. He kept digging for more and more details, refusing to be put off, even when it was made clear to him that some of his questions were not appreciated by the Beings involved. He just pressed even harder for answers, putting things together, despite several quite specific warnings. He was either very brave, very stupid, or lacking in any sense of self-preservation.
“He died quite recently, at his home in the Northside. Accounts of the manner of his death seem confused, but all the accounts agree that the good Captains Hawk and Fisher were somehow involved. As investigating officers.”
Lacey sat back in his chair, smiling serenely in a self-satisfied way. There was a long pause, as everyone digested the information he’d provided.
“Did anyone spot anything ... unusual, about Bode?” Hawk asked carefully.
“Well, apart from what I’ve already told you, there were a few interesting occurrences. Several times on the Street Bode was recognised by old friends, who went over to talk to him, as old friends do. It would appear that Bode was very short with them on these occasions. He wouldn’t discuss his business, or what he was doing on the Street, and on some occasions even pretended not to know them. All of which was most unlike Bode. Perhaps he thought he was acting undercover, so to speak, but he’d made no effort to disguise himself.”
“Did anyone ever see Bode looking ... different?” asked Fisher. “Larger, more muscular?”
Lacey looked at her sharply. “An interesting question, Captain. It is true that since Bode’s death previously reliable sources have reported seeing Bode walking the Street of Gods again, looking ... somehow different. Perhaps you can shed a little light on that, Captain?”
“Not right now,” said Fisher. “According to some reports, Bode sometimes met his girlfriend on the Street. Can you tell us anything about her?”
“Unfortunately I have been able to learn very little about her, Captain. She appeared on only three occasions, each time heavily muffled under a cloak and hood. On the last occasion two of my associates tried to get a close look at her. They both died, right there on the Street.”
Hawk leaned forward on his chair. “How did they die?”
“Natural causes, Captain. Heart attacks. Simultaneous heart attacks.”
“Sorcery,” said Fisher. Lacey inclined his head in agreement but said nothing.
“So,” said Rowan, “we have a sorcerer and a sorceress on the Street of Gods, asking questions about the Beings. Questions the Beings don’t want to answer. Perhaps that’s why the Beings died; because they wouldn’t answer the questions.”
“Or because they did,” said Buchan.
Fisher looked at him. “I’m not sure I follow that.”
“I’m not sure I do myself,” said Buchan. “What worries me is how the Beings died. You’d need a hell of a lot of power to overcome a Being on his own territory. You’d need a sorcerer the level of the High Warlock. And if someone like that was on the Street, we’d all know about it.”
“Let’s move away from Bode for a moment,” said Tomb. “Lacey, what is the situation on the Street at present? How are the Beings reacting to the murders?”
“Badly, my dear friend. There’s a great deal of unease in the Street, both inside and outside the temples. In their own way, the Beings are quite frightened. They all tend to paranoia at the best of times. Right now most of them are busy looking for an enemy they can blame everything on; someone to strike back at. Old rivalries are becoming more intense. Old hatreds are being fuelled afresh. Everyone knows you’re doing your best to find the killer, but the Gods aren’t known for their patience. I fear it’s only a matter of time before some God decides to take matters in its own hands and strikes the first blow. And we all know what that would lead to.”
“You’re talking about a God War,” said Tomb.
“Yes, I’m rather afraid I am. Unless something is done soon, something significant, things are going to get worse on the Street very quickly. As it is, we’re all waiting for the inevitable spark to set off a conflagration none of us can hope to put out.”
There was another long pause.
“I can’t help feeling we’re missing something,” said Buchan. “Something so close we can’t see the wood for the trees. Lacey, do you know of any connection between the three dead Beings?”
For the first time, Lacey looked a little uneasy, though his smile never wavered. “Well, there is one ... coincidence, my friends, but it may be nothing more than that... ”
“We’ll decide what’s important,” said Rowan sharply. “What is it?”
Lacey braced himself visibly. “Each of the dead Beings received a visit from the Deity Division, on official business, not long before their death.”
Hawk looked sharply at Tomb. “Is that right?”
“Well, yes. But we visit Beings all the time. It’s part of our job. We’ve visited so many Beings recently, I hadn’t even noticed the dead Beings were included.”
“But it is a connection,” said Fisher.
And then the voice of the Guard’s communications sorcerer boomed suddenly in Hawk and Fisher’s minds:
Riot on the Street of Gods! Riot on the Street of Gods! All available personnel report to the Street of Gods immediately. This command overrides all other orders and priorities until further notice.
Hawk and Fisher scrambled to their feet, their hands clawing instinctively for their weapons. The God Squad were on their feet too, looking equally shocked. They’d picked up the message, too. Lacey rose uncertainly to his feet.
“My friends, what is it? What has happened?”
“It seems your information came a little too late this time,” said Rowan. “Someone’s just fired the first shot in a God War.”
She ran out of the door, with Tomb close behind her. Lacey made as though to approach Buchan, and then hesitated.
“Pardon my intrusion, my friends, but about my fee ...”
“Worry about that later,” said Hawk. “Buchan ...”
“But ...”
“I said later!” Hawk glared at Lacey, and the informer backed quickly away. Hawk turned back to Buchan, who was still standing in a daze. “I think we ought to get moving, sir Buchan. The riot won’t wait for us to get there.”
“Of course. I’m sorry. I just never really thought it would happen, that’s all. There hasn’t been a serious riot on the Street in almost seventy years.”
“Seventy-one,” said Lacey. No one paid any attention.
“You’re the expert,” Hawk said to Buchan. “What’s the best thing to do?”
“Pray,” said Buchan. “But make sure you pick the right God.”
Hawk could hear the riot long before he could see it. Screams of rage and horror and anguish blended into a rising cacophony of sound that permeated the night air. The Street of Gods felt strangely out of synch, as though the various realities that made it up were no longer in alignment. Churches appeared and disappeared, and doors changed shape. Unnatural lights blazed in the starless sky, spread across the night like colours on a madman’s palette. A surging vibration trembled in the ground underfoot, like the slow, regular heartbeat of something indescribably huge, buried down below.
Hawk and Fisher ran down the Street, weapons at the ready. They’d been running for some time, but the riot didn’t seem to be getting any nearer. The Street was like that, sometimes, but at that moment it wasn’t doing a thing for Hawk’s nerves. He breathed deeply, trying to get more air into his lungs, and hoped his second wind would kick in soon. Fisher seemed to be struggling a little too, and she could usually run him into the ground. Buchan, on the other hand, was loping effortlessly along beside them, as though he covered this kind of distance every day before breakfast and thought nothing of it. With his physique, maybe he did. Hawk tried to stick with that train of thought, but his mind insisted on bringing him back to what passed for reality on the Street of Gods. The Guard communications sorcerer hadn’t been very specific about how bad the riot was, but he wouldn’t have sent out a general alarm like that unless his superiors had been sure something extremely nasty was happening up ahead.
He wondered briefly where Tomb and Rowan were. They’d disappeared even before Hawk had left God Squad headquarters, but there was no sign of them on the Street. Maybe they knew a shortcut. Maybe they’d already got to the riot, and had things safely under control. Yeah, thought Hawk sourly, and while I’m wishing, I’d like a fortune in jewels as well, please. The constant roar of noise was growing louder, uglier and more violent by the minute. Hawk rounded a corner that hadn’t been there the last time he’d been this way, and then skidded to a halt, Fisher and Buchan piling up beside him. They’d found the riot.
Hundreds, maybe thousands of gaudily robed priests and acolytes were milling back and forth on the Street, furiously attacking each other with swords and fists and broken bottles. Everywhere there were bloody hands and faces, and unmoving bodies were being trampled blindly underfoot by the savage mob. Old hatreds were running loose and free, as age-old vendettas finally came to a head. Blinding lights flared from churches and temples, and overhead the sky churned sickly with uncontrolled magic. A handful of Guards had got there before Hawk and Fisher, and were fighting back to back on the edges of the crowd, too busy trying to stay alive to do anything about the riot. The Street belonged to the fanatics now, and they didn’t care who they killed. A dozen green-robed priests swarmed over a Guard Constable and knocked him to the ground. He disappeared behind a host of swinging boots.
Hawk and Fisher waded in to help. Whatever else was happening, Guards looked after their own. They had to. No one else would. Hawk’s axe swept back and forth in short, vicious arcs, and blood flew on the air. The priests scattered, and Fisher cut down those who didn’t move fast enough. No one attacked a Guard and got away with it. It might give people ideas. The remaining priests disappeared into the crowd, and Buchan stood guard as Hawk and Fisher got the battered Constable to his feet and led him to the safety of a recessed doorway. There was blood on his face and his legs were shaky, but he seemed more or less intact. He nodded his thanks, and tried to get his thoughts together.
“Have you been here long?” asked Hawk.
“Can’t be more than ten, twenty minutes,” said the Constable breathlessly. “But it seems like forever. Just my luck to be working a beat so close to the Street of Gods when the riot call came....”
“Do you know what caused all this?” said Fisher.
“Seems another God has been murdered,” said the Constable. He paused to wipe blood out of his eyes. Buchan passed him an immaculately clean handkerchief, and the Constable pressed it gingerly to his forehead. “The Lord of the New Flesh is dead. Someone ripped both its hearts right out of its breast. The High Priest found the body less than an hour ago. Didn’t take long for word to get around. We don’t know who actually started the riot. Could have been anybody.”
“Details can wait,” said Fisher. “How many more Guards are there already here?”
“There were seventeen. We all got here about the same time, but the crowd separated us. We’d better get some reinforcements here soon. The Beings are mad as hell and scared spitless. It’s only a matter of time before one of them decides to take a hand personally. And you can bet your arse if one God comes out onto the Street, they all bloody will. Where the hell’s the God Squad? They’re supposed to prevent things like this from happening!”
“They’re here somewhere,” said Hawk, carefully not looking at Buchan. “We’ll just have to try and keep the lid on things until they get their act together. Has anybody sent for the SWAT team?”
The Guard smiled sourly. “First thing we did when we got here was to scream for the SWAT team. But according to the communications sorcerer, they’re busy dealing with an emergency on the other side of the city. Typical. They’re never bloody around when they’re needed. We need them here! We can’t cope with this!”
“Take it easy,” said Fisher. “We’re just Guards, not heroes. No one expects us to cope with everything. We just do the best we can.” She broke off to wave urgently at a contingent of Guards running down the Street toward them. “Look; you join up with this bunch, and fill them in on the situation. We’ll do what we can here. Now move it!”
The Constable nodded briefly, and moved off to intercept the newcomers. Hawk and Fisher looked at the growing riot, and then at Buchan.
“If it was up to me,” said Hawk, “I’d just let them get on with it. With a bit of luck all the fanatics would kill each other off and the Street of Gods would be a far more peaceful place. But, unfortunately, the Constable was right. If we don’t break this up, the Gods will get involved. And if that happens, I for one am not hanging around to see who wins. I am going to beg, borrow, or steal a pair of fast horses, and you can wave Fisher and me goodbye as we head for the nearest horizon.”
Buchan looked at Fisher. “He really would, wouldn’t he?”
“No,” said Fisher. “He’s not that sensible. He always did think about his duty too damned much. And since I won’t leave without him, it looks like we’re here for the duration.” She looked out over the frenzied mob and shook her head disgustedly. “I’ve seen smaller armies. You’re the expert, Buchan. How do we handle this?”
“Clear the Street,” said Buchan firmly. “Don’t worry about the Gods; Tomb and Rowan will take care of them if necessary. The rioters are our responsibility.”
“Get everyone off the Street,” said Hawk. “Just like that?”
“It’s not difficult,” said Buchan. “We just have to make them more scared of us than they are of anything else. They may look dangerous, but most of them aren’t armed, and those who are probably don’t have much combat experience. Either way, they’re no match for professionals like us.”
Hawk looked it him steadily. “So we just wade right in and slaughter everything that moves. Is that it?”
“Pretty much,” said Buchan. “And watch yourselves; rioting is a capital offence, and they know it. They’ll kill you if you give them an opening. Don’t make the mistake of thinking they’ll respond to reason. They won’t. They’re beyond that now. So just do what you have to do, and worry about the body count later.”
He walked unhurriedly into the riot, and his sword flashed. Robed bodies fell to the ground and didn’t move again.
“The trouble is, he’s right,” said Hawk. “I hate this job sometimes.”
“If we don’t stop this riot, hundreds will die,” said Fisher. “Maybe thousands. What are a few lives, compared to that?”
“I know,” said Hawk. “But it doesn’t make it any easier. I joined the Guard to protect people, not butcher them. Come on, lass. Let’s do it.”
Fisher nodded, and together they moved silently into the riot and began the slaughter. They worked back to back, blades swinging, and blood splashed their cloaks. Robes of all shapes and colors surged around Hawk, the fanatics nothing more than angry faces and flailing fists. A few had swords. Some had clubs and lengths of chain. None of them stood a chance against Hawk and Fisher. Hawk swung his axe back and forth in wide, brutal arcs, and bodies crumpled to every side of him. Fisher guarded his back, her blade a silver blur as men and women fell screaming to the ground. The crowd began to fall back around them, and some of the rioters turned to flee rather than face the grim-faced Guards.
More Guards spilled onto the Street of Gods from all directions, drawn from all over the city, and soon the cobbled ground was slippery with blood and gore. An armoured contingent arrived from the Brotherhood of Steel, eager for a fight and determined to restore order. The sound of the crowd changed, fear replacing rage, and it began to crumble and fall apart under the onslaught of so many determined professional fighting men. Priests and acolytes threw down their weapons and ran for the safety of their temples. Piles of dead and injured lay scattered across the Street, mostly ignored. Some of them were Guards. A handful of Guard sorcerers appeared on the scene, and slowly the shifting realities returned to what passed for normal on the Street of Gods.
Hawk slowly lowered his axe and looked about him, panting for breath. The Street was emptying fast, and a slow sullen silence had fallen across the night. Tired-looking Guards were sorting the injured rioters from the dead, and finishing the job. Rioting, as Buchan had said, was a capital offence. Hawk turned his head away, and sat down suddenly, his back to a wall. There were some things he wouldn’t do, and to hell with what the law said. Fisher sat down beside him, and leaned against him, her head on his shoulder.
“They’re not paying us enough for this,” she said indistinctly.
“They couldn’t pay us enough for this,” said Hawk.
“Then why are we doing it?”
“Because someone has to protect the innocent and avenge the wronged. It’s a matter of honour. And duty.”
“That argument doesn’t sound as convincing as it used to.”
Hawk nodded slowly. “At least the worst is over now.”
A harsh metallic scream broke the silence, deafeningly loud and utterly inhuman. Hawk and Fisher scrambled to their feet and looked round just in time to see something huge and deadly surging out of a temple doorway not nearly big enough to let it through. Stone and timber broke apart and fell away as the Being emerged onto the Street of Gods. It was at least thirty feet high, a shimmering patchwork of metal fragments held together by rags and strings of rotting flesh. Patches of dark, discoloured skin revealed splintered bone and obscurely connected metal mechanisms. Steel and crystal machine parts thrust through the tattered hide, their razor-sharp edges grinding together as the Being rose to its full height. A roaring crimson fire burned in its steel belly and glowed in its bony eye sockets.
It had slender jagged arms with long-clawed hands that shimmered in its own bloody light. Broken silver chains hung from its wrists. Its steel jaws snapped together like a man-trap. A long tail studded with bony spikes lashed back and forth behind it. The Being threw back its long, wedge-shaped head and screamed defiance at the night. It had got out, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. It screamed again, a harsh metallic shriek that sent a sudden shiver through Hawk. There was nothing remotely human in the sound. The creature should never. have lived, and was not alive in any way that made sense. But this was the Street of Gods, and it had got out, and not even those who had prayed to it for so long could hope to control it now.
It lowered its massive head, and looked at the Guards and Brothers of Steel gathered before it. There were close on three hundred armed men facing the Being, and Hawk knew with a sickening certainty that they weren’t going to be enough The huge creature darted forward, and its razor-sharp claws raked through a dozen men. More died screaming as the creature surged back and forth, crushing men under its massive bulk. Swords and axes cut uselessly at the Being’s patchwork hide. Its long head snapped down to bite a man in half. Blood dripped from the metal jaws like steaming saliva. The Guards and the Brotherhood fell back, only their training keeping them from utter panic. The few Guard sorcerers roared and chanted, but their magics shattered harmlessly against the rogue Being, whose very existence defied the laws of reality.
“Where the hell did that thing come from?” said Fisher, as she and Hawk peered warily at the creature from the shadows of a concealed doorway.
“Must be a God of some kind,” said Hawk.
“You mean there are people crazy enough to worship that?”
“This is Haven, Isobel; they’ll worship bloody anything here. And if one God’s out, it won’t be long before more come out to join it. I think this might be a good time to make a strategic retreat.”
Fisher looked at him sharply. “We’re not going anywhere, Hawk. We’re God Squad now. And since the rest of the Squad has apparently vanished, that means that thing is our responsibility. It has to be stopped here, before it gets into a more populated part of the city.”
Hawk scowled. “I hate it when you’re right. Okay; you take left, I’ll take right. We’ll circle round behind the thing and see if we can cut through whatever it has instead of tendons in its legs. That should bring it down to our height if nothing else.”
“And if that doesn’t work?”
“Pray really hard that Tomb and Rowan are on their way here, instead of doing the sensible thing and hiding in a storm cellar somewhere.”
“You worry too much, Hawk. After all, we’ve faced worse, in our time.”
They shared a smile, and then separated, darting silently from shadow to shadow as they made their way behind the unliving creature. The Being reared up to its full height and glared down at the Guards and Brothers of Steel scattered around it. It screamed again, the inhuman sound echoing on and on. The sound was almost painfully loud as Hawk emerged from the shadows behind the Being, heft ing his axe. Up close, the dead flesh smelt of corruption and burning oil. The Being’s leg was taller than Hawk and easily twice as broad. There were flat plates of metal sliding against each other, and fraying ropes of muscle that flexed and tore with every movement. Steel cables stretched and hummed, lined with traceries of broken veins. Hawk looked at the axe in his hand and shook his head slowly.
This is probably a really bad idea....
He gripped the axe firmly with both hands, and swung it with all his strength at one of the steel cables in the left leg. The heavy axe sheared clean through the cable, and wedged itself between the moving parts inside the leg. The Being screamed deafeningly. Hawk tugged at his axe, but it was stuck tight. The Being lifted its leg, and Hawk was jerked up into the air, still clinging grimly to his axe. The foot slammed down heavily, cracking the cobbled ground, and Hawk was thrown clear. He lay on his back a moment, dazed, and then rolled quickly to one side. The taloned foot slammed down where he’d been lying. He clambered shakily to his feet, and saw his axe protruding from the leg, just in front of him. He grabbed it firmly with both hands, pulled hard, and almost fell down again as it came away easily. The impact of the stamping foot had jarred it loose.
Great, thought Hawk, circling quickly to keep behind the Being, Now what do I do? Cutting the cable didn’t even slow the bloody thing down.
He caught a glimpse of something moving on the edge of his vision. He spun round, axe at the ready, and then relaxed a little as he saw it was Fisher. He just had time to nod acknowledgement, and then both of them had to throw themselves to the ground as a huge clawed hand slashed through the air where they’d been a moment before. They hit the ground rolling and were up and running before the Being could turn to face them. They ran in dif ferent directions to confuse it, but the huge creature paused only briefly before going after Fisher. Hawk swore briefly, and running after the Being, cut at one of its legs with his axe to get the creature’s attention. The great wedge head swung down toward him, full of bloody steel teeth over a foot long. Hawk threw himself between the creature’s legs and pounded down the Street after Fisher. The Being screamed deafeningly, and started after them.
The two Guards darted into a narrow alleyway, and the Being lurched to a halt at the alley mouth, uncertain how to get at them. Hawk and Fisher backed away down the alley, not taking their eyes off the creature. And then it slowly turned its head and looked away, as though sensing a greater menace close at hand. It looked back down the Street, and turned quickly to face the new threat. Hawk and Fisher watched silently from the protective shadows.
Tomb and Rowan were standing side by side in the middle of the Street of Gods, facing the rogue Being. Everyone else had disappeared. Only the dead remained, scattered over the cobbles like so many crumpled heaps of bloody clothing. The Being stared at Tomb and Rowan with its furnace eyes, and then started slowly, deliberately, toward them. Rowan held up her left hand. A small blue jewel blazed brightly in her grasp, the azure light spilling between her fingers. The Exorcist Stone. Rowan spoke a single Word of Power, and in a moment that seemed to last forever, the world changed.
Reality convulsed, shaking like a plucked harp string, and the rogue Being was suddenly no longer there. There was a sharp clap of thunder as air rushed in to fill the vacuum left by its sudden disappearance. And as quickly as that, it was all over. The night air was still and quiet, and the Street of Gods was calm again. Tomb and Rowan turned away as the Guards and Brothers of Steel reappeared on the Street and moved among them, doing what they could to help the injured. The Exorcist Stone had disappeared, tucked casually away into one of Rowan’s pockets.
Hawk and Fisher leaned wearily back against the wall at the alley mouth, eyes closed, letting their aching muscles slowly relax. Tiredness so deep it was more like pain coursed through Hawk’s body, tugging at his muscles like a persistent beggar demanding attention.
“So,” he said finally. “That was the Exorcist Stone.”
“Yeah,” said Fisher. “Impressive. Pretty colour, too.”
“If nothing else, it should calm things down a bit. Both the Beings and their priests will think twice before getting out of line again.”
“Don’t bank on it,” said Fisher. “That’s too sensible, too logical. Nothing on this bloody Street is ever logical.”
“True.”
They moved out onto the Street of Gods to help with the injured. Tomb waved and smiled at them briefly, but he and Rowan were too busy to break away. Buchan appeared from among a group of Guards, caught Hawk and Fisher’s attention, and strode quickly toward them. Hawk took in Buchan’s face and stance, and his heart sank. Whatever the man had to say, Hawk knew instinctively he didn’t want to hear it. Buchan came to a halt before Hawk and Fisher, and nodded briskly. There was blood on his clothes and hands, none of it his.
“Whatever it is, the answer’s no,” said Hawk flatly. “I don’t care if someone’s planning to destroy the whole Street of Gods. I might even applaud. Isobel and I are exhausted. We’ve worked too hard too long, and we’re way behind on our sleep. That’s a dangerous state to be in. It’s too easy to make mistakes when you’re tired. So, Isobel and I are going to help out here for a while, and then we’re going home to get some sleep. Whatever you want will just have to wait.”
“Right,” said Fisher.
“Sleep can wait,” said Buchan. “This can’t. I was just talking to one of the Guard sorcerers. Something nasty is building at Hightower Hall. Something really nasty. Tomb and Rowan can’t go. They’re needed here. That just leaves us.”
“Read my lips,” said Hawk. “We’re not going. Isobel’s out on her feet and I’m not much better. If the Hellfire Club’s got their fingers burnt, it’s their own damned fault.”
“This is God Squad business,” said Buchan. “We can’t turn our back on people who need us just because we don’t like them.”
“Watch me. Isobel’s in no state ...”
“Oh, hell, let’s go,” said Fisher. “The time we spend arguing with Buchan, we could be there and back. Besides, I haven’t got the strength to argue.”
“That’s the spirit,” said Buchan. “It’s only a mile or so to High Tory from here. We can do it in ten minutes if we hurry. Don’t you just love working in the God Squad? Never a dull moment.”
He set off briskly down the Street of Gods, and Hawk and Fisher moved wearily after him.
“If he doesn’t stop being so bloody cheerful,” growled Hawk ominously, “I am personally going to tie both his legs in a square knot.”
“I’ll help,” said Fisher.
They hurried after Buchan, muttering mutinously under their breath. From the shadows of a side alley, the Dark Man watched them go but made no move to follow.