Nightside 10 - The Good the Bad and the Uncanny

tighter jeans, with cowboy boots and all kinds of bangles and beads. Skin so clear it almost glowed, huge dark eyes, a scarlet mouth, and close-cropped platinum blonde hair. Without even trying, she took my breath away. Now, pretty girls have always been ten a penny in the Nightside, but she ... was different.
    Conversations died away on all sides as she stopped in the middle of the bar and looked around. All the young dudes perked up, ready to catch her eye, only to be utterly dismissed as her gaze settled on me. She trotted happily forward to join me, and the Beachcomber allowed himself a small, disappointed sigh. He moved away gracefully, to find someone else he could button-hole. I was clearly spoken for. The girl swayed to a halt before me, smiling brightly. Up close, I could see that her T-shirt bore the legend If You Have to Ask, You Can’t Afford It. And that she wasn’t wearing a bra under it. I smiled easily back at her, as though this sort of thing happened to me every day, and gestured for her to park her cute little bottom on the abandoned bar-stool beside me. She dropped onto it with a happy squeak and fixed me with her huge eyes.
    “Don’t get comfortable here, dear; you’re not staying,” said Miss Fritton, in a cold tone I couldn’t remember her using before. “We don’t serve your kind. Oh yes, I can see right through you; don’t think I can’t.”
    The girl pouted prettily and batted her heavy eye-lashes at me. “I can stay, can’t I, sweetie?”
    “Of course,” I said.
    Miss Fritton sniffed loudly. “None so blind,” she said. “It’ll all end in tears, but no-one ever listens to me.” She gave the girl a stern look. “No trouble on the premises, young lady, or I’ll set the dogs on you.”
    She moved off to the other end of the bar. I was a little put-out. I’d never known Miss Fritton to turn anyone away while they still had some of her money in their pockets.
    “Does she actually have dogs?” said the girl.
    “Only metaphorically,” I said.
    “Hi!” the girl said brightly to me, dismissing Miss Fritton with a careless shrug. “You’re Larry Oblivion, I’m Polly Perkins, and you’re very pleased to see me! Because I am about to make you rich beyond your wildest dreams.”
    “Ah,” I said. “It’s a business deal, is it?”
    My disappointment must have showed in my face because she giggled delightfully and squeezed my left thigh with a surprisingly powerful grip.
    “Business first, pleasure later. That’s how the world works, sweetie.”
    “Exactly how are you going to make me rich?” I said, trying hard to sound tough and experienced.
    “You’re a treasure-hunter,” Polly said briskly. “Everyone knows that. And I know the location of a treasure so splendid that just breathing its name in your ear will bring tears of joy to your eyes and a definite bulge in the trouser department.”
    “What do you think you’ve found?” I said politely. “Has someone sold you an ancient map, perhaps, or a book with a sealed section? You can’t believe everything you buy in the Nightside. Some of these cons go way back. Oh, all right, go on, astound me. What have you found, Polly?”
    “Word is, you have a special interest in Arthurian artefacts,” said Polly.
    I brightened up, despite myself. “What is it, the sword in the stone?”
    “Even better,” she said. “The sword’s original owner. Ah, I thought that would make you sit up and take notice. I know where we can find the Lady of the Lake, frozen for centuries in a block of ice. Preserved against the ravages of Time, since the days of King Arthur. Frozen in her own lake, after Excalibur was returned to her, after the fall of Camelot. Imagine the possibilities if she could be released from her icy tomb! The things she could tell us, of the Age of Arthur. Think of our place in History!”
    “Think of how much money we could make!” I said.
    “That, too!”
    “How did you ... ?”
    “Please,” said Polly. “Allow a girl a few secrets. The point is, I don’t feel entirely ... safe, going after this on my own. I need a partner. And I chose you! Say you’re grateful.”
    “I’m grateful,” I said. “Really. But why me? There are any number of other treasure-hunters, far more experienced, who’d be only too happy to help you out.”
    “I want a partner, sweetie, not someone who’d cut me out first chance he got, or fob me off with a percentage,” said Polly. “Besides, I like a man with a