Nightside 06 - Sharper Than a Serpents Tooth

buckets."
    Somewhat garbled voices hastened to assure me that they were all ready and willing to assist me in anything I might want done. So I set them to defending those people who were trying to fight the fires.
    I left them to it and set off down the street, stepping carefully around and over the cracked and raised pavement. The air was painfully hot on my face from all the fires, and the smoky air was thick with floating cinders. Fighting was still going on, in fits and starts, but no-one bothered me. I stopped as I came to a club I recognized, the lap-dancing joint Not Fade Away. The ghost girls were out in force, using their smoky bodies to smother any flames that threatened their club's already scorched facade. The barker kept them moving, his tired and strained voice still rising easily over the general din. He nodded brusquely in my direction as I went over to join him.
    "Club's closed, for redecoration," he growled out of the corner of his mouth. "We will reopen. Look for our ads."
    "How long is it since I was last here?" I asked him.
    "About a week, squire. Just before all this unpleasantness started. Now unless you've got something useful to contribute, be a nice gentleman and bog off. The ladies and I are busy."
    I used my gift to find somewhere it was raining heavily, and brought the rain to where it was needed. It slammed down, a torrential downpour the whole length of the street, drowning all the fires and washing the smoke right out of the air. People shouted and cheered, and the ghost girls danced joyously in the street as the rain fell straight through them. I tipped a wink to the barker and continued down the street. I shouldn't have used my gift so blatantly. Lilith would be bound to detect it, and know I was back. But I needed to do something, and I've always had a weakness for the grand gesture.
    Next, I needed to find out what had happened while I was away. It appeared my Enemies' return spell hadn't been as accurate as I'd hoped.

    I eventually found the establishment I was looking for—Simulacra Corner. A discreet little joint, specialising in the sale of magic mirrors, crystal balls, scrying pools, and other less-well-advertised means of spying on your neighbour from a distance. Simulacra Corner dealt in everything from confidential connections to industrial espionage, and everything in between. The sign over the front door said for all your voyeuristic needs. Tucked away down a side street that wasn't always there, none of the recent excitement had even touched it. As I approached the rough wooden door, an approximation of a face raised itself out of the wood. The blank eyes glared at me, and the brass letter box formed itself into a sneering mouth.
    "Go away," it said, in a harsh, growling voice. "We are closed. As in, not open. Call back later. Or not. See if I care."
    I've never cared for snotty simulacra. "You'll open for me," I said. "I'm John Taylor."
    "Good for you. Love the trench coat. We're still not open. And you probably couldn't afford anything here even if we were."
    "Let me in," I said pleasantly. "Or I'll piss through your letterbox."
    The face scowled, then sniffed mournfully. "Yes, that sounds like John Taylor. I hate this job. When everyone knows you're not real, you get no respect."
    The face sank back into the wood, disappearing detail by detail, and the door swung slowly open before me. I stepped inside, and the door immediately slammed shut behind me. An invisible bell tinkled, announcing a customer. The shop's interior was wonderfully calm and quiet, after the noise and chaos of the street, and the air smelled sweetly of sandalwood and beeswax. The entrance lobby was empty, apart from a few comfortable chairs and a coffee table half-buried under out-of-date magazines. The shop's owner came bustling forward to greet me, a small furtive type, badly dressed and overweight, and smiling a little bit too widely. He was already rubbing his hands together, and I stuck my hands into my coat pockets so I wouldn't have to shake hands. I just knew his would be cold and clammy. He looked like the kind of guy who always assures you the first hit is free.
    "Mr. Taylor, Mr. Taylor, so good of you to grace my humble establishment with your presence! Sorry we didn't let you in straightaway, Mr. Taylor, but it's chaos out there! Absolute chaos, oh my word yes! Can't be too careful… Don't those fools realise what they're doing? Property values will be depressed for years after