Nightside 06 - Sharper Than a Serpents Tooth

than that. Alex and I had seen that face before, on a future incarnation of Suzie, who'd travelled back through Time from a potential future to kill me, right here in this bar. I might have killed that Suzie. I wasn't sure. Alex came back with a large glass of wormwood brandy for me, and two bottles of gin for Suzie. He scowled disapprovingly as I gulped down the expensive liquor, and tried not to see Suzie sucking gin straight from the bottle like it was mother's milk.
    "How long have we been gone?" I said finally.
    Alex raised an eyebrow. "About five hours, since you and Tommy Oblivion left here with Eamonn Mitchell, that new client of yours."
    "Ah," I said. "It's been a lot longer for us. Suzie and I have been Time travelling. Back into the various Pasts of the Nightside."
    "I've got no sympathy for you," said Alex. "Don't you have enough problems in the here and now, without upsetting people in the Past? Who did you piss off this time? You look like you've both been through a meat grinder."
    "That's nothing," said Suzie. "You should see the meat grinder."
    She belched and farted, then went back to sucking on her bottle.
    "I don't suppose you thought to bring me back a present?" said Alex.
    "Of course not," I said. "I told you; we were in the Past, not the Present."
    "You're so sharp you'll cut yourself one of these days," said Alex.
    I persuaded Suzie to put down her gin bottle long enough to make use of the rechargeable clothing spell Alex always keeps at hand behind the counter. A few Words of Power followed by a couple of quick passes with an aboriginal pointing-bone, and our clothes were immediately clean and repaired. Our bodies remained battered and bloody and exhausted, but it was a start. The spell was standard equipment in all Nightside bars and hostelries, where the general joie de vivre could be very hard on the appearance. Suzie and I admired ourselves in the long mirror behind the bar.
    I looked like myself again, if just a little more world-weary around the eyes. Tall, dark, and handsome in the right kind of light, wrapped in a long white trench coat. I like to think I look like someone you could trust, if not take home to meet the parents. Suzie Shooter, also known as Shotgun Suzie, and Oh Christ it's her, run! looked as cold and dangerous and downright scary as she always did. A tall blonde in her late twenties, but with a lot of mileage on the clock, standing stiff-backed and arrogant in black motorcycle leathers, lavishly adorned with steel chains and studs, a pump-action shotgun holstered on her back, and two bandoliers of bullets criss-crossing her substantial chest. Knee-length black leather boots with steel-capped toes completed the distressing picture. She had a strong-boned face, a mouth that rarely smiled, and a gaze older than the world. She'd shot me in the back once, but it was only a cry for attention.
    (Alex was dressed all in black, as usual, even down to the designer shades and snazzy black beret perched on the back of his head to hide a spreading bald patch. He was in his late twenties but looked ten years older. Running a bar in the Nightside will do that to you.)
    "So," said Suzie, returning to her gin bottle, "what do we do now, Taylor?"
    "We put together an army," I said, "Of every Power and Being and major player in the whole damned Nightside, and turn them into a force I can throw at Lilith's throat. I'll use my gift to track down wherever she's hiding herself, and then… we do whatever we have to, to destroy her. Because that's all there is left, now."
    "Even though she's your mother?"
    "She was never my mother," I said. "Not in any way that mattered."
    Suzie considered me thoughtfully. "Even with an army to back us up, we could still lay waste to most of the Nightside, fighting to bring her down."
    "She'll destroy it anyway, if we don't do something. I've Seen what will happen if we don't stop her, and anything would be better than that."
    I didn't look at her scarred face. I didn't think of her half-dead, half-mad, come back through Time to kill me, with the awful Speaking Gun grafted where her right forearm should have been.
    "What if the others don't want to get involved?"
    "I'll make them want to."
    "And end up just like your mother?"
    I sighed, and looked into my empty glass. "I'm tired, Suzie. I want… I need for this to be over."
    "It should be one hell of a battle." Shotgun Suzie ran one thumb caressingly over her bandoliers of bullets. "I can't wait."
    I smiled