in stride, and just kept going. I gaped openly around me, like a tourist. The Somnambulist didn’t seem to notice anything.
We were walking through the dark, rain-slick streets of the Nightside. I recognised them immediately, from when I’d visited them before, with Walker. The dark, hidden heart of London, where it’s always three o’clock in the morning, always the hour that tries men’s souls. With its forever night sky, packed full of unfamiliar stars and a hugely oversized full moon. I didn’t like that moon; it looked like it might come crashing down on me at any moment.
Hot neon signs burned fiercely on every side, sweet and gaudy as Hell’s candy and twice as tempting. Shop-windows displayed things no one in his right mind should ever want. Barkers outside nightclubs with ever-open doors yelled their price lists for the awful and unnatural practices to be found inside, and there never seemed to be any shortage of punters. Women lounged around on street corners in all their fetish finery, offering love for sale. Love, or something like it. And gods and monsters went walking hand in hand.
I couldn’t keep from glaring at the scene around me. I’ve always hated the Nightside, where morality is relative, and Good and Evil work side by side and seem quite content to do so. I didn’t belong here, and not just because I was a Drood, and therefore banned. I’ve always needed to know where I stand, what matters and what doesn’t. The whole dark and sleazy setting set my spiritual teeth on edge.
People hurrying up and down the crowded streets turned their heads to watch the three of us pass by, as though they could tell we didn’t belong. The looks they gave us weren’t in any way friendly. I was tempted to call on my armour, but I couldn’t escape the feeling that was what they wanted. To give them the excuse they needed to fall on me. Like a pack of rabid rats. For daring to disapprove of them. I stared straight ahead, ignoring them all, but after a while even the brightly lit windows in the towering office buildings came to feel like watching eyes. Observing the three of us with bad intent.
Interestingly enough, no one seemed surprised to see Walker. Even though he was supposed to be dead.
Sunlight suddenly blasted in, driving back the endless dark, dazzling me for a moment. I had to raise an arm to shield my eyes. Walker didn’t seem at all bothered by the harsh light, and neither did the Somnambulist. Of course, she already had her eyes shut. When I was finally able to see clearly again, the Nightside streets were gone, as though they’d never been there. The three of us were striding down a pleasant country lane. Low dry stone walls slouched on either side of us, pockmarked with age and long exposure to the elements. To my left stood a huge field of gently waving corn, so brightly golden it was almost painful to look at. To my right, a great open field full of grazing cows. And then the hair on the back of my neck stood up, as one by one the cows lifted their heads and turned to look at us. Until all of them were staring right at us, with cold, fixed intent.
The sunlight was bright, even fierce, but I couldn’t feel it on my skin. I didn’t feel hot, or cold, or anything much. On an impulse I reached out and trailed my fingertips along the nearest dry stone wall. It felt hard and solid, and reassuringly rough to the touch; indisputably real. But I still couldn’t hear any footsteps, as the three of us walked along the road. The ground felt hard and solid enough underfoot, but I wasn’t sure I trusted it to stay that way. I checked for shadows, but we all had them.
As though my checking was the last straw, the world changed again, and we were walking along the bottom of the ocean. Sand crunched and slid treacherously under my feet but still didn’t make a sound. The waters were dark, but I could see our surroundings quite clearly thanks to great shafts of light filtering down from far above. I waved a hand back and forth before me, and slow, fat ripples moved through the water ahead of me, but I couldn’t feel any of the expected resistance from the water.
Clouds of clashing technicolor fish swam endlessly around us, sometimes