Nightside 02 - Agents of Light and Darkness

unblinking eyes, and then, finally, she held it to her shrunken chest and cuddled it to her, like a sleeping child. And I began to breathe once more.
    “This is mine,” she said, still looking at the bear rather than at me, for which I was grateful. “It… was mine, when I was a small child. Long ago, when I was still human. I haven’t thought of him in … so long, so very long…”
    “It’s what you need,” I said carefully. “Something that matters to you. Something that’s as real to you as you are. Something to believe in.”
    Her head rose sharply, and she turned her unwavering regard on me. I did my best not to wince. She cocked her head to one side, like a bird. “Where did you find this?”
    “In the teddy bears’ graveyard.”
    She laughed briefly, but it surprised me anyway. “Never ask the magician how he does his tricks. I know. I’m crazy, but I know that. And I know I’m crazy. I knew what I was buying with the price I paid. I’m always alone now, divorced from the world and everyone in it; because of what I did to myself, what I made of myself. La la la … just me, talking to myself… It wasn’t an easy or a pleasant thing, to cut away my humanity and become the Unbeliever. I walk through the world, and I’m the only one in it. Until now. Now there’s me and teddy. Yes. Something to believe in. What do you believe in, John Taylor?”
    “My gift. My job. And perhaps my honor. What happened to you, Jessica?”
    “I don’t know, any more. That was the point. My past was so appalling, I had to make myself forget it, had to make it unreal, had to make it never have happened. But in doing that I lost my faith in reality, or it lost faith in me, and now I only exist through a constant effort of will. If I ever stop concentrating, I’ll be the one to disappear. I’ve been alone for so long, surrounded by shadows and whispers that mean nothing, nothing at all. Sometimes I pretend, just to have someone to talk to, but I know it’s not real… But now I have my bear. A comfort, and a reminder. Of who and what I was.” She smiled down at the battered old bear in her stick-thin arms. “I’ve enjoyed our little chat, John Taylor. Made possible by this place, and this moment. Don’t ever try this again. I wouldn’t know you. Wouldn’t remember you. Wouldn’t be safe.”
    “Remember the bear,” I said. “Just maybe, it can lead you home.”
    But she was already gone, striding out of the church and back into the night. I let out my breath slowly and sat down on the front pew before I fell down. Jessica Sorrow was too damned spooky, even for the Nightside. It’s not easy having a conversation with someone you know thinks she’s only listening to voices in her head. And who can drop you out of existence on the merest whim. I got to my feet and went over to the altar to collect up my candles. And that was when I heard running footsteps approaching the church from outside. Not Jessica. Human footsteps, this time. I retreated to the very back of the church and hid myself in the deepest of the shadows. Apart from Jessica, and, of course, Walker, no-one was supposed to know I was there. But I have enemies. Their dread agents, the Harrowing, have been trying to kill me since I was born. And besides, I’d had enough excitement for one night. Whoever was coming, I didn’t want to know.
    A man in black came running through the gap where the door used to be. His dark suit was tattered and torn, and his face was slack with exhaustion. He looked like he’d been running for a really long time. He looked like he’d been scared for a really long time. He was wearing sunglasses, black and blank as a beetle’s eyes, even though he’d come out of the night. He staggered down the aisle towards the altar, clutching at the pews with one hand as he passed, to hold himself up. His other hand pressed an object wrapped in black cloth to his chest. He kept glancing back over his shoulder, clearly afraid that whoever or whatever pursued him was close behind. He finally collapsed onto his knees before the altar, shaking and shuddering. He pulled off his sunglasses and threw them aside. His eyelids had been stitched together. He held out his parcel to the altar with unsteady hands.
    “Sanctuary!” he cried, his voice rough and hoarse, as though it hadn’t been used in a long time. “In God’s name, sanctuary!”
    For a long moment there was only silence, then I heard slow, steady footsteps