cowards and scumbags, then turned into monster food. The night seemed relatively quiet, and no-one came by to bother us. I looked at Walker . A pain in my arse for most of my life, I'd often wanted to see him brought down, but not like this. He was staring out into the night as though he'd never seen it before.

"The Authorities are dead," he said abruptly. "What do I do now?"

"Be your own man," I said. "You can still give the orders that need giving, kick the arses that need kicking. Get things done. Someone's got to lead the resistance. Who's got more experience than you? You're needed, Walker; now more than ever."

Walker turned his head slowly to look at me. "You're Lilith's son," he said finally. "You're the King in waiting. You're the legendary John Taylor, who always snatches victory from the jaws of defeat. Maybe you should be in charge."

"No," I said. "I've never wanted that. I have enough trouble being responsible for myself, never mind anyone else. And I've got other things to do. Don't ask what. It would only upset you. You've always been The Man, Walker. So suck it up and solider on."

He smiled briefly. "You sound very like your father sometimes, John." He stood up, and just like that all his old poise and confidence were back again. "I suppose someone's got to turn you rabble into a disciplined fighting force. So, I'm going back to Strangefellows. Where will you go?"

"In search of some heavy-duty backup," I said, getting to my feet. "We need more big guns on our side."

"And if there aren't any?"

I grinned at him. "Then I'll improvise. Suddenly and violently and all over the place."

He nodded. "It's what you do best."

He took out his Membership Card, activated it, and stepped through into the relative safety of Strangefellows bar. The Card disappeared with a soft sucking sound and a brief flurry of sparks, and I was left standing alone on the steps of the Londinium Club. I pushed my hands deep into the pockets of my trench coat, and looked out into the night. All the buildings around me were wrecked or burned out. Bodies everywhere. Screams in the distance, strange lights flaring on the horizon. The Nightside was going down for the third time, and I was running out of ideas. There had to be someone else, some Power or major player who still owed me a favour, or could be fooled into thinking they did… but I couldn't think who. I couldn't do this on my own. I needed someone powerful enough, or tricky enough, to stop this War in its tracks before it got out of hand. Before it led to the terrible future that was becoming more real, more inevitable, by the minute. Unfortunately there was only one name left on my list, the one I'd been trying so hard not to think of. Because he scared the crap out of me.

The Lord of Thorns. The Overseer of the Nightside, appointed directly by God to keep an eye on things.

Mostly, he didn't intervene personally. He was the last judge of all disputes, the Nightside's court of last resort, the one you only went to when everything else had failed and you were tired of living anyway. I'd been half-expecting him to turn up and start smiting everything in sight for some time now. Since he hadn't, it looked like I was going to have to give him his wake-up call. Lucky old me. The Lord of Thorns lived in the World Beneath, the miles and miles of caverns, catacombs, and stone galleries that lay deep below the Nightside. The place where you went, when the Nightside wasn't dark enough for you. The Lord of Thorns slept his sleep of centuries in a crystal cave in the deepest, darkest part of the World Beneath, and God help anyone who disturbed him unnecessarily.

I had only met him once, and that was more than enough. I am the stone that breaks all hearts, he'd said. I am the nails that bound the Christ to his cross. I am the necessary suffering that makes us all stronger. .. God's power flowed through him, the power over life and death and everything between. He could save or damn you with a word or a glance, and his every decision was binding. I was pretty sure he didn't approve of people like me, even though he'd been friendly enough, in a distant sort