Nightside 09 - Just Another Judgement Day

interesting.”
    Tamsin turned to Sharon. “Mr. Taylor’s coat should be clean by now, dear. Go and get it for him, would you?”
    “Oh sure, sweetie! Won’t be a moment!”
    She bounced up off the chair’s arm and hurried out the door. It seemed it was time to leave, so I got up. Chandra made a point of finishing his tea first and making appreciative noises, then he got up, too. Sharon came bustling back in with my coat. It was, of course, spotless. I put it back on, and said good-bye politely to the rogue vicar. Chandra was even more polite. Sharon led us back down the cosy hallway to the front door. I glanced covertly at Chandra. Tamsin MacReady had been pushing him pretty strongly about whose god was biggest, but it didn’t seem to have ruffled his composure. If there’s one thing I’ve come to be sure of, in all my years of walking up and down in the Nightside, it’s that while there are always answers to be found if you know where to look... they inevitably only lead to more questions.
    Sharon opened the front door for us, and Chandra and I stepped back out into the night. I looked back to say good night, and Sharon smiled at me through the closing gap. And for a moment I caught a glimpse of her hidden self, the vicar’s body-guard—a quick flash of huge teeth and ragged claws and something hideously vile and vicious. Just a glimpse, then it was gone, and Sharon Pilkington-Smythe smiled good-bye as the door closed. I wondered whether Tamsin MacReady knew. I thought she probably did. I looked at Chandra.
    “Did you see that?”
    “See what?”
    “Never mind.”
    I took a moment to check my trench coat thoroughly, in case Sharon had planted any listening or tracking things, or some other little surprise. You can never be too careful with the truly righteous—their faith allows them to justify all kinds of underhanded behaviour. I found half a dozen small silver crucifixes, scattered through various pockets. They didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary, but I discarded them anyway, just in case. What is the world coming to, when you can’t even trust a rogue vicar and her demon lover?
    A movement further down the street caught my attention, and I looked round sharply. Out of the shadows, walking calmly and serenely in the night, came Annie Abattoir, large as life and twice as glamorous. She was wearing a rich purple evening gown, complete with elbow-length gloves, high heels, and enough jewellery to fill a pawnbroker’s. Not that anyone would bother her, of course, even here. She was Annie Abattoir. She strode up to me, and I nodded respectfully.
    “Hello, Annie. Seduced and killed anyone interesting recently?”
    “No-one you’d know,” said Annie.
    “What is a high-class courtesan, experienced assassin, and truly dangerous individual such as yourself doing in this low-rent area?”
    “I’m here to visit the rogue vicar.”
    I raised an eyebrow, and Annie looked at me witheringly.
    “What’s the matter?” she said. “Can’t a mother visit her own daughter?”
    She knocked on the Vicarage door. Sharon opened it and let her in. I looked thoughtfully at the door as it closed. I never knew Annie had any family. I thought she killed them all. So, the most vicious assassin in the Nightside had a vicar for a daughter. Made you wonder which of them was the black sheep . . .

* * * *
    Chandra Singh and I walked from the Vicarage to St. Jude’s. It wasn’t far. The church’s actual location had become somewhat elusive, ever since the Lilith War, and is seldom to be found in the same place twice. You have to need to find it really badly, then there it is, right in front of you. Or not. It’s not supposed to be easy to find. Either way, St. Jude’s has always preferred the darkest and most out-of-the-way locations in the Nightside. I must have wanted to find the church really badly, because after only a few minutes walking, it loomed up before me, in a setting I was pretty sure it had never patronised before.
    St. Jude’s is the one real church in the Nightside, and it wouldn’t be seen dead anywhere near the Street of the Gods. A simple cold stone structure that almost certainly predates Christianity itself, it has no trappings, no rituals, and no services. You don’t come to St. Jude’s for prayer or contemplation or comfort. It’s a place to go when you’ve tried everywhere else. A place where prayers are heard and paid attention to. A church where you can talk to your god