Nightside 10 - The Good the Bad and the Uncanny

“Really, you do amaze me. An elf who lies—who would have thought it? I don’t give a damn who you really are; just give me the damned Peace Treaty. Or we can take it from your cold dead fingers, if you prefer. Guess which I’d enjoy most?”
    I looked at Screech. “Who are you? And why do I know I’m not going to like the answer?”
    “Maybe you’re psychic,” said the elf, with a smile and a wink.
    His glamour disappeared like a cut-off song, and the whole world seemed to shake and reassemble itself, as Lord Screech gave way to the real elf, and his true form. I think we all gaped, just a little. In place of the typically tall and slender Lord Screech, we were now faced with an elf almost twice as tall as any of us, but bent over by a hunched back that pulled one shoulder down and forward, ending in a withered arm and a clawed hand. The rest of his form was smooth and supple as a dancer, but his hair was grey, his flesh was the colour of old bone, and two elegant horns thrust up from his heavy brow. He wore a pelt of some animal fur that blended into his own hairy torso, and his legs ended in cloven hooves. He was noble and elegant and almost unbearably inhuman. He grinned widely, his deep-set eyes full of mischief.
    “Of course,” I said. “I should have known. The only elf that is not perfect. Puck.”
    “Indeed,” he said, in a cold, lilting voice. “Who else but I, that wild rover of the speckled night, could pass freely between two elven Courts and yet pay allegiance to none? Loved by both, trusted by neither, able to speak and hear the things no other elf could be suffered to know? I am Puck, that merry wanderer of the Nightside, and I have led you all in a sweet and merry dance, to suit mine own purposes. I do not have the Peace Treaty, Lord Walker. I never did. Another elf has it, one of lesser renown but great craft, and he has passed quietly and unobserved through the Nightside, hidden and protected behind a most powerful glamour, while I have been so very visible, alongside the infamous John Taylor, holding your attention all this while. That other elf has now gone through the Osterman Gate with the Peace Treaty, and my part in this game is done. Be a good loser, good Walker.”
    Walker considered this for a long moment, while I reminded myself, yet again, Never trust an elf.
    “I could still have you shot,” said Walker. “If only on general principles.”
    “You could try,” said Puck. “But even if you did somehow succeed, you would but provide the one common cause that could unite all elves to go to war with the Nightside. I may not be perfect, but I am still royal; and an insult done to me is an insult to all the Fae.”
    “Oh, get out of here,” said Walker, smiling just a little. “Before I run you all in for loitering with intent.”
    He turned his back and strode away, waving at his troopers to accompany him. I felt like shouting after them as to who was going to dismantle their bloody big barricade; but I thought I’d pushed my luck enough for one day. I turned to Puck.
    “I really don’t like elves,” I said.
    “You’re not supposed to,” said Puck. “Merely marvel at our cunning and be dazzled by our brilliance.”
    “You want a slap?” I said.
    “Never trust an elf,” said Ms. Fate. “They always have their own agenda.”
    “Well, quite,” said Puck.
    “That’s it,” said Ms. Fate. “I am out of here. I let my lovely car be ruined because of you! I risked my life for you!”
    “Of course,” said Puck. “That’s what humans are for.”
    I really thought I was going to have to stand between them, for a moment. Ms. Fate glared at me.
    “I’ll be waiting for my cut of your fee. And the next time you need a ride, call somebody else.”
    She stomped back to the Fatemobile, threw herself through the space where the door used to be to slip behind the steering wheel, fired up the engines, and roared away. I considered Puck thoughtfully.
    “So,” I said. “Here we are. Mission accomplished, more or less. Now tell me what you promised I need to know.”
    “Something bad is coming to the Nightside,” said Puck, and there was something in his eyes, in his voice. If he hadn’t been an elf, I would have said he was afraid. “Something very old, and very powerful. You’ll know the name when I say it, but in this at least, trust me when I tell you that it is not what you think it is, and never was. You must find it and make it yours, John Taylor. Or