The Bride Wore Black Leather

was.” He looked at the Sun King, and his smile was strangely understanding. “You could have let me die, but you didn’t. Because you couldn’t bring yourself to kill me. Despite everything, despite your masters’ orders, you couldn’t do something you knew was wrong.”
    “No,” said the Sun King. “How could I kill my oldest friend? But I needed John Taylor distracted, and the whole Nightside outraged enough to want him dead, so I went with the thing that would have upset me most.” He looked at me. “All an illusion, John. You only thought you killed him. I put him in a coma and tucked him away in Ward 12A. Seemed appropriate. And then I convinced everyone else to see things my way. You keep thinking of me as the villain, John, but I’m really not. I only do what I have to do, for the greater good.” He looked at Julien. “You were quite definitely in a coma. How . . . ?”
    “Shouldn’t have put me in Ward 12A,” said Julien. “You and your sense of humour . . . Dr. Benway spotted me the moment she made her next rounds. She woke me up, and we went out into the Nightside together and joined up with these good people.”
    “Suzie broke the influence, but it kept creeping back,” said Dead Boy. “Until they came along. Hard to believe someone is dead when they’re standing right in front of you insisting that they’re not. I mean, I know dead; and he isn’t.”
    “Suzie brought us here,” said Razor Eddie. “So we could make amends for being . . . mistaken.”
    “And so we could kick the Sun King’s arse,” said Larry Oblivion. “The Nightside may be a spiritual cesspit, but it’s our spiritual cesspit.”
    “You old romantic, you,” said Tommy.
    The Sun King wasn’t paying any attention to us. He only had eyes for Dr. Benway. He studied the old woman, with her grey hair and lined face, still wearing her white doctor’s coat, and his smile was a very gentle thing indeed.
    “So, after all these years . . . Princess Starshine has returned to join her Sun King,” he said. “You always were my touchstone, Emily. You were the one I wanted to make a better world for. When I finally came out of the White Tower, and you weren’t there . . . When I found out I’d lost you, and the life we should have had together . . . It was like I’d lost everything that mattered. All I had left, was the Dream. It’s all I’ve got left now. I will bring about a better world. Because I am the good guy here, and I will not be stopped.”
    “I keep telling you,” I said. “In the Nightside, it’s not enough just to be the good guy. To fight the real bad guys, like your Aquarian masters, you need fighters, monsters, outcasts, like us.”
    “No!” said the Sun King. “I have given my life to this! I saw the Dream, in the Summer of Love, and it was a real thing! It should have happened; it would have happened if I’d still been here! Well, I’m here now, and I will make up for my absence; and all of you together aren’t enough to stop me! I will do this! I will! You aren’t enough!”
    “Just as well I’m here, then,” said the Lord of Thorns.
    We all looked round again. The Lord of Thorns didn’t walk through the doorway; he was suddenly there, with us, a cold, forbidding presence in his long, grey robes, long, grey hair and beard, leaning on a heavy wooden staff. Looking like one of those Old Testament prophets who never did believe in sugar-coating God’s words. He smiled upon the Sun King, and it was not a good smile.
    “Did you really think you could lure me from this sacred place with your petty stratagems?” he said, his voice as unyielding as the ancient, grey, stone walls of St. Jude’s. “I have been here all along, watching and waiting. For this moment.”
    “You can’t stop me!” shouted the Sun King. His face was flushed red, his eyes puffy as though he wanted to cry tears of sheer frustration, and there was something of the thwarted, petulant child in his voice. “Even all of you together don’t have the power to stand against me! All those long years I spent in the White Tower, learning terrible wisdoms at my masters’ feet, all to gain the power I needed, to do this thing! To do this one, necessary, thing!”
    “It’s not your power,” I said. “It never was. You have nothing except for what the Entities let you have. To do their work. If you could only see who and what they really are, you’d throw that power back in their