Nightside 04 - Hex and the City

indicated the empty chair opposite him with a non-committal hand. His face was calm and composed as always, but I knew that behind his usual world-weary facade he had to be thinking furiously. Walker was never caught off guard for long. Pretty Poison sat down gracefully, put her hands on the table so Walker could keep an eye on them, and beamed at him.
    "I'd absolutely adore a cup of tea, darling."
    Walker checked the ornate china teapot before him, found it was practically empty, and gestured for a waitress. The waitresses looked at each other, there was a brief but silent communication of raised eyebrows and shaken heads, then the most recently employed was forced forward by peer pressure. She tottered up to the table, smiling gamely, and Walker ordered a fresh pot of tea and another cup.
    "Anything else?" quavered the waitress. "Fairy cakes? Fresh cream? Can I take your coat?"
    "Go away," said Pretty Poison. "Or I'll burn you alive from the inside out."
    The waitress departed, running, to have hysterics at a safe distance. Walker looked reproachfully at Pretty Poison.
    "You haven't changed a bit, Sophia. It'll take more than a generous gratuity to smooth that over. I'll be lucky if I'm not banned."
    "But I thought you ran things in the Nightside these days, Henry."
    "There are limits. Do try and behave in a civilised manner. I have my reputation to consider."
    A different waitress arrived and set out a new tea service. She pushed the second cup in Pretty Poison's general direction, without looking at her, then fled. Walker poured Pretty Poison a cup of hot, steaming tea, adding a dash of milk and one sugar without having to be asked. Pretty Poison clapped her hands together delightedly.
    "You remembered! You always were good about the little things, Henry." She looked at him critically. "You look older, dear. Distinguished."
    "You look just like I remember you," said Walker. "But then you would, wouldn't you? Being what you are."
    "What do you see, when you look at me?" said Pretty Poison, sipping carefully at her tea with her little finger carefully extended. "I look different to everyone, so I never know."
    "Let's just say I was perhaps a little too fond of Marianne Faithful in my younger days, and leave it at that." Walker gave her a hard look. "What did you mean, when you said we were still linked? Our ... arrangement was over years ago. And I'm supposed to be protected from ... unexpected visitors."
    Pretty Poison shrugged. "When I was given to you, all those years ago, it created a connection between us, so that you could summon me at will. That connection cannot be broken by anything except your death or my destruction. That's the rule. A succubus isn't just for Christmas, she's for life. Dallying with such as me is a mortal sin, after all. Still, it is nice to see you again, Henry. I must say you're taking this very well. I half expected you to shout and throw things. Or call for an exorcist."
    "I don't get excited any more," said Walker. "It's bad for the image. What are you doing here, Sophia?"
    She looked away from him, leaning back in her chair to contemplate the tea room. The musicians played, the waitresses came and went, and people at other tables enjoyed their tea and exchanged polite conversation. Absolutely no-one was showing any interest in Walker's table. Pretty Poison looked back at Walker, nodding happily.
    "I always liked this place. So calm and civilised, and everyone minding their own business. I'm glad it's still here. It hasn't changed at all, but then I suppose the charm of such places is that they don't. And the tea is very good. Maybe I should have asked for some fairy cakes after all."
    "The Willow Tree has never really been fashionable," said Walker. "But I like it."
    "Because it used to be one of our special places?"
    "In spite of that."
    Pretty Poison gave him a hard look. "Now don't spoil it, Henry. We're having a perfectly nice conversation. I shall change the subject." She indicated the crystal ball sitting on the table at Walker's left hand. Mists curled inside it. "Keeping touch with all your people in the field, I see. I didn't know people still used those any more: but then, you always were a traditionalist."
    "I do tend to prefer things that have stood the test of time," said Walker. "The new is never to be trusted, until it has proven itself."
    "You weren't always so stuffy," said Pretty Poison. "Remember our other special place?"
    "Oh please," said Walker. "Not that