Nightside 06 - Sharper Than a Serpents Tooth

you were wondering.) It was the one place in all the world where you could go to speak with your Maker and be sure of getting a reply. Which is why most people didn't go there. Unless they absolutely had to.
    St. Jude's was located way over on the other side of the Nightside, a long way from anywhere, and separated from me by miles and miles of very dangerous territory. Walking was not an option. I wished I'd told the Harley to stick around. I took my Membership Card out of my pocket, fired it up, and called for Alex Morrisey in a loud and demanding voice. There was a pause, just to keep me from getting above myself, then his face appeared, glowering out of the Card at me.
    "Taylor! About time you turned up again. If only so you can pay your bar bill before the world ends. And what have you done to Walker? He showed up here a few minutes ago looking like someone had put the fear of God into him. I don't think I've ever seen him so pissed off at the world. He's currently charging round my bar yelling orders at everyone like Captain Kirk on crack, and organising everyone within an inch of their lives."
    "Probably just a midlife crisis," I said. "Put Tommy Oblivion on, would you, Alex? I need to ask him something."
    Alex sniffed loudly, just to remind me he was no-one's servant, and his face disappeared from my Card, which then played me a tinny Muzak version of Prodigy's "Firestarter" while I was on hold. Tommy's face finally peered out of the Card at me, frowning suspiciously.
    "What do you want, Taylor?"
    "You," I said.
    And I reached into the Membership Card, grabbed him by the front of his ruffled shirt, and dragged him through the Card to where I was. The Card expanded hastily to let him through, but even so it was a tight squeeze for a moment. Tommy sat down suddenly on the Club steps as his head spun from the sudden transfer, and the Card shrank back to normal size and shut itself off, possibly in protest at such rough handling. I put it away, and helped Tommy to his feet.
    "Son of a bitch!" he said.
    "Yes," I said. "That just about sums me up."
    He glared at me. "I didn't know you could do that with a Card."
    "Most people can't," I said. "But I'm special."
    Tommy sniffed. "I suppose that's one way of putting it." He brushed himself down here and there, repairing his appearance as best he could, then looked at the headless Doorman, lying on the steps beside him. He moved fastidiously a little further away from the blood. "Been busy, I see."
    "For once, not my fault." I filled him in on what had been happening, or at least as much of it as I thought he could cope with, and explained my need to get to St. Jude's in a hurry. He really wasn't keen on the idea, but I can be very persuasive when I have to be. Not to mention downright threatening. I only had to mention a certain video that had come into my hands, featuring him and a very athletic exotic dancer, who happened to be married to someone exceedingly scary, and suddenly he was only too willing to help me out. (I didn't actually have the video. I'd just heard of it and run a bluff. The guilty flee…)
    Tommy Oblivion's gift manifested subtly on the air around us, and everything became uncertain. Tommy was an existentialist, and his gift allowed him to express his uncertainty about the world in a real and very physical way. The more he thought about a thing, the more possibilities he could see, and he fixed on the reality he preferred and made it solid. By concentrating hard enough, Tommy was able to convince the world that not only were we not where it thought we were, but actually we were somewhere else entirely.
    And so, in the blink of an eye we left the Londinium Club behind us and materialised outside the Church of St. Jude. A dodo wandered past, hooting mournfully, a flock of passenger pigeons flapped by overhead, and an ostrich with two heads looked confusedly at itself, but they were only a few odd possibilities generated by Tommy's gift. He concentrated on shutting his gift down, while I looked around us. Everything but the church had been razed to the ground, for as far as the eye could see. It stood alone, an old squat stone structure in the middle of a wasteland. A wide-open plain of ash and dust, where thick curls of glowing ground fog surged this way and that under the urging of a fitful wind. It was very dark, with just the blue-white glare of the oversized moon shining off the church walls. In the distance, fires leapt up briefly, screams rang