Nightside 03 - Nightingales Lament

wanted to lift their hearts and comfort them, send them back out to face the world feeling renewed ... If the Cavendishes really have done something to corrupt my songs, my voice .. ." She shook her head sharply. "Oh, I don't know! I don't know what to do!" She picked up the fourth whiskey sour and stared at it moodily.
    We all sat and considered the matter for a while. Up on the stage, a Whitney was singing "I Will Always Love You." Rossignol sniffed loudly.
    "Never cared for that. Far too strident."
    "I prefer the Dolly Parton version," said Dead Boy, unexpectedly. "More warmth."
    I looked at him. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"
    "You have no idea," said Dead Boy.
    Rossignol put the fourth whiskey sour to one side as the chocolate gateau arrived. It really was very big, with scrapings of dark and white chocolate sprinkled on the top. Rossignol made ooh- and aah-ing noises, and her eyes went very wide. She grabbed the spoon and stuck it in, and soon there were chocolate smears all round her mouth. I considered her thoughtfully. An unpleasant idea had suggested itself. Perhaps the reason why this Rossignol seemed so different from the one I'd encountered at Caliban's Cavern, was because this was an entirely different Rossignol. Another duplicate, like the tulpa who'd wrecked the Night Times's offices. It would explain a lot, including how she'd been able to get out of the club so easily.
    "I think I need to go to the little boy's room," I said loudly, giving Dead Boy a meaningful look.
    "Fine," he said. "Thanks for sharing that with us, John."
    "This is the first time I've been to this club," I said pointedly. "Why don't you show me where the Gents is?"
    "I've never had to use it," said Dead Boy. "One of the few advantages of being dead."
    I glared at him and made furious eyebrow gestures while Rossignol was busy making ecstatic chocolate-
    eating noises, and he finally got the point. We got to our feet, excused ourselves, and headed for the nearby door marked Stand Up. Once inside, the shiny-tiled expanse was empty apart from a Kylie standing at the urinal with his skirt hiked up. Dead Boy and I waited until he'd finished, taking a keen interest in the vending machines, and once the Kylie was gone, Dead Boy gave me a hard look.
    "This had better be important, John. Just being in here alone with you is undoubtedly doing my reputation no good at all."
    "Shut up and listen. The Cavendishes have already sent one duplicate Rossignol after me - a tulpa with supernatural strength and a really bad attitude. Is there any way you can tell whether that's the real Rossignol or not? You're always saying nothing can be hidden from the dead."
    "Oh sure. I've already checked her out."
    "And?"
    "She is the original. And she's dead."
    I looked at him for a long moment. "She's what?"
    "She doesn't have an aura. It was the first thing I noticed about her."
    "Well, why didn't you say anything?"
    "It's none of my business if she's mortally challenged. You need to be more open-minded, John."
    "You mean, she's dead, like you?"
    "Oh no. I'm a special case. And she's far too bright and bubbly to be a zombie. But you can't be alive without an aura. Everyone has one."
    "Really?" I said, momentarily distracted. "What does mine look like?"
    "Lots of purple."
    "How can she be dead and not know it?" I said, almost as angry as I was exasperated. "She's out there right now giving every indication of being very much alive. Dead people don't have orgasms over chocolate gateau."
    "Denial isn't just a river in Egypt. Or perhaps it's something to do with the Cavendishes and their hold over her. Do you want me to break the news to her?"
    "No, I think it should come from someone who's at least heard of tact. And she did say she wanted the truth , whatever it was." I scowled at the immaculately shining white tiles. "How do you tell someone they're dead?"
    "With your mouth. After all, it could be worse."
    "How?"
    Dead Boy gave me one of his looks. "Trust me, John. You really don't want to know."
    "Oh shut up."
    By the time we got back to our table, Rossignol had demolished fully half of the gateau and drunk the other two whiskey sours. She waved happily at us the moment we reappeared and stopped to suck the chocolate smears off her fingers. Her face was flushed, and she kept lapsing into fits of the giggles. Dead Boy and I sat down facing her.
    "I want more drinks!" she said cheerfully. "Everybody should have lots more drinks! Do you want some