will be there. Because even a terrible thing like that needs somewhere to go that feels like home.”
* * * *
We walked down the Street of the Gods, and people and other things hurried to get out of our way. Chandra Singh, because so many people had just seen him go head to head with the Walking Man and survive, and me . . . because I was John Taylor, and had done far worse things in my time. And might again. Meanwhile, I did my best to explain to Chandra exactly what the Speaking Gun was and what it could do. He needed to be prepared.
“The Speaking Gun is an old horror,” I said. “And I mean really old. So ancient it was created before the days of History, from the time of Myth and Legend. A gun fashioned from flesh and bone, that breathes and sweats and hates everything that lives. Its power comes from God, indirectly.”
“And that’s why you think it will work against the Walking Man,” said Chandra.
“Exactly. You see . . . in the beginning was the Word, and the universe burst into existence. Or so they say I wasn’t there. But anyway, as a result, the echoes of that Word live on in everything that exists. In their true, secret, descriptive Name. The Speaking Gun can see that Name and say it backwards. Thus . . . Uncreating them. I destroyed the Speaking Gun by forcing it to speak its own true Name backwards, and making it Uncreate itself. Seemed to work well enough, at the time. But the bloody thing still exists in the Past, and in certain future time-lines. And so the Gun Shop will always be able to reach out to it because its very nature links it to every weapon that ever was, is, or will be.”
Chandra Singh shook his head. “Words fail me.”
“Well, quite,” I said.
It didn’t take us long to track down the Gun Shop. I didn’t need to use my gift. Like so many places on the Street of the Gods, the Gun Shop lies in wait for those who need it. Never far, always ready to be of service, always ready to slap a gun in your hand and encourage you to use it. Death And Destruction “R” Us, but don’t come back crying when it all goes horribly wrong.
It wasn’t much to look at, when it finally hove into sight before us. More like a corner shop than a church, which I suppose was only to be expected. A simple wooden door next to a single glass window, showing off all the wonders to be found inside. I stopped, and looked. I couldn’t help myself. Chandra stood beside me. And in the window of the Gun Shop, weapons showed themselves off like whores. Swords and axes, guns and rifles, energy weapons and shifting shapes that made no sense at all. All of them utterly glamorous and sweetly tempting.
Come inside, find something you like. You know you want to.
I pulled my gaze away from the display and looked at Chandra. “Those aren’t just weapons,” I said. “They’re icons, archetypes, avatars of their kind. The Onlie True Originals, of which everything else are but pale reflections.”
“Yes,” said Chandra, turning his head abruptly to look at me. “Not just guns, but the Spirits of Guns. Every gun, every sword, maybe every bomb, too. You don’t come here looking for something to protect the innocent or punish the guilty. These are simply instruments of death. Means to murder.”
“Got it in one,” I said. “Once we get in there, watch yourself. Murder is a sacrament in the Gun Shop, and temptation comes as standard.”
I headed for the door, and it opened silently before me, without my even having to touch it. The Gun Shop was expecting me. I strode in as though I’d come to condemn the place on Moral Health grounds, and Chandra was right there with me, giving the place his best snotty and entirely unimpressed look. Sharp fluorescent lighting blazed up, revealing a huge emporium containing every killing tool known to man, and a few that wandered in from adjoining dimensions. Like so many churches in the Street of the Gods, the Gun Shop’s interior was much bigger than its exterior. It’s the only way they can fit everything in. The Shop fell away before us, retreating endlessly into the uncomfortably bright light, with lines and lines of simple wooden shelves, stretching away into the distance for