From a Drood to a Kill - Simon R. Green Page 0,152

Game, for whatever reasons, the Powers That Be were happy. As long as I was providing a show . . . Molly came forward to join me.

“He would have killed you,” she said finally. “And me.”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“Not dancing to someone else’s tune. I did what I had to, but I don’t feel good about it. You know, Molly . . . it’s not enough, just to escape from the Shifting Lands. I am going to put a stop to this Game, hunt down the Powers That Be and bring them down. Hard.”

“Of course you are,” said Molly. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from Eddie Drood. But can we at least try to get out of this Game alive first?”

“Perfectionist,” I said.

Molly looked at the unconscious form on the ground before us. She gave it a good hard nudge with her boot, just in case.

“What about him?”

“He’ll keep,” I said.

* * *

The light darkened as the forest shut down all around us. Wood cracked and creaked loudly, as the remaining trees slumped and sagged forward, rotting and decaying, falling apart. The forest was dying without the will of Tarot Jones to sustain it. What golden light remained shrank in on itself, darkening like spoiled treacle. Somewhere up above the forest, the sun was going out. It was already growing cold, as the life bled out of Tarot Jones’ world. Molly shot me a concerned look.

“What happens to us if we’re still a part of this world when it dies?”

“I think we’re probably better off not knowing,” I said. “We need to move on. Replace this world with one of our own choosing. Something we decide on.”

“We?”

“I think we’ll stand a better chance of getting what we want if we both concentrate on the same thing.”

“Too late,” said Molly. “I’ve already thought of something.”

The forest disappeared in a moment, swept away like a passing fancy. I expected Molly to replace the dark forest with her own preferred wild woods, but instead, we were suddenly standing on a street that could only have been part of the Nightside. Hot neon, night sky, good and evil rubbing shoulders and stabbing each other in the back. Business as usual, in the night that never ends. I looked reproachfully at Molly, and she shrugged briefly, not even a little bit embarrassed.

“It’s what came to mind . . .”

A thought struck me. I looked down at my feet, but Tarot Jones’ unconscious form hadn’t made the transition with us. We’d left him behind, in his dying world. I hoped he’d get out okay.

I looked around me, trying not to appear too openly disapproving. All kinds of people, and some things not even pretending to be people, hurried up and down the rain-slick pavement, carefully avoiding each other’s eyes. All in search of the driving passions that might not have a name in polite company, but most certainly had a price list. The night sky was still crammed full of unfamiliar stars, and the huge, overbearing full moon. Traffic rushed by without ever stopping, or even noticeably slowing down. Not everything on the road looked like a vehicle; in fact, some of them were eating each other. I was pretty sure this wasn’t the same street I’d walked down with Walker and the Somnambulist earlier, but it looked pretty damned similar.

Something large flapped slowly across the night sky, so huge the moon actually disappeared from view for a moment as the creature passed in front of it. I looked away. Nothing in the material world should be that big. A shuddering bass beat caught my attention, blasting out of the open door of a nearby nightclub. Music reduced to its most basic, seductive and compelling. A barker in a chequered suit strode back and forth before the open door, loudly proclaiming the joys to be found inside. I really hoped he was exaggerating. Molly noticed my interest, and grinned.

“We could pop in for a moment, if you like. It’s been ages since we went dancing.”

“No thank you,” I said. “I’ve heard of what goes on in Nightside clubs. Where the drinks may be free, but the cover charge is your soul. Or someone else’s. Where the band never stops playing because the Management have a lifetime contract. Put on the red shoes and dance till you bleed . . .”

“You can be such a stuffed shirt sometimes,” said Molly.

I remembered Walker saying that whatever you end up with in the Shifting Lands could