Nightside 10 - The Good the Bad and the Uncanny

a large organisation, remember? Just because I’m dead, it doesn’t mean I’ve been lying down on the job.”
    He got out his mobile phone and called for one of his drivers to come and pick us up. He’d barely put the phone away before a long pearl grey limousine eased out of the traffic and purred to a halt. The driver got out to open the door for Larry and me, a tall, blonde, Valkyrie type in a white leather chauffeur’s uniform, complete with peaked cap. She smiled at Larry, winked at me, and was back behind the wheel before I’d even finished doing up my seat belt.
    “Image is everything these days,” Larry said comfortably. “Act important, and everyone will treat you as though you’re important. You might be more comfortable with the traditional ways, walking the mean streets in your iconic white trench coat; but I’ve always believed in travelling in style. Take us to St. Jude‘s, Priscilla.”
    “You see a lot more from the street than you do from a car,” I said, but my heart wasn’t in it.

    The limousine must have been heavily armed, on the quiet, because the rest of the traffic gave us plenty of room. We swept smoothly through the night, leaving the bright lights behind us as we headed into the darker and more obscure areas. Where the shadows have substance, and even the moonlight seems corrupt. Like slipping out of a dream and into a nightmare, leaving everyday temptations behind in favour of darker and more malicious impulses. I watched the streets and squares drift by, swept along in the smooth comfort of the limousine; and all the sharp neon and Technicolor come-ons seemed like a dream within a dream, far, far away.
    You find the Church of St. Jude tucked away in a quiet corner, in the back of beyond, far and far from the fields you know. It has no sign outside, no name on any board, no promise of hope or comfort. It’s just there for when you need it. The only real church in the Nightside. The limousine eased to a halt a respectable distance away, and Larry and I got out. The night air was cold and sharp, brisk and bracing, alive with possibilities. Larry told his chauffeur to stay put, and he and I headed for the church, neither of us in any hurry. The Church of St. Jude is not a welcoming place.
    An old, cold stone structure, older than history, older than Christianity itself, St. Jude’s consists of four bare greystone walls with a slate roof, narrow slits for windows, and only one door. Never locked or bolted, always open; and let any man walk into the lion’s mouth who would. No priests here, no services or sermons; just a place where a man can talk with God and stand a real chance of getting an answer. Your last chance in the Nightside for sanctuary, salvation, or sudden and terrible justice.
    Not many people come to St. Jude’s. It is not a place for mercy or compassion. St. Jude’s deals strictly in the truth.
    It didn’t take me long to realise that the church had undergone a change since I was last there. It didn’t seem quiet or brooding any more. Brilliant shafts of light blazed out of every window-slit, piercing the dark. A great and mighty power was abroad in the night, emanating from the ancient stone building, pulsing and pounding on the air. There was nothing of Good or Evil in it, only pure naked power. Larry and I looked at each other, hunched our shoulders, and pressed on. The closer we got, the more it was like breasting a tide, or facing into a storm, and we had to fight our way forward through sheer will-power. Whoever or whatever had made itself at home in the church, it clearly wasn’t keen on visitors.
    “Never been here before,” Larry said casually. “Is it always like this?”
    “Not usually,” I said. “Sometimes it’s actually quite dangerous.”
    “Who do you suppose is in there?”
    “Beats me. Maybe someone got a prayer answered.”
    Larry smiled briefly. “Looks more like a personal appearance.”
    “Could be.”
    Larry looked at me. “I was joking!”
    “I wasn’t. This is St. Jude’s.”
    “Could that be Hadleigh, do you think?”
    “What would he be doing in there?”
    “I don’t know. Talking to his boss?”
    “Now, that I have got to see,” I said.
    The moment we forced our way through the open door and into the church, the pressure on the air disappeared. The sense of power was still there, but it was no longer directed at us. The whole church was full of light, so stark and brilliant it seemed to blaze right through