The Bride Wore Black Leather

Boy sneered at Rogue. “Walker can look after himself. But he doesn’t have to; not while we’re around. You behave yourself, young immortal, or I will knock you down and stamp on your head, and Razor Eddie here will make origami out of your insides.”
    Rogue looked from Dead Boy to Razor Eddie, then back to me. He smiled charmingly.
    “It’s always good to have friends you can depend on. Rest assured I will do everything in my power to cooperate with the Walker’s investigation.”
    “Thanks for the support, guys,” I said. “But I think he might speak more freely without an audience.”
    Dead Boy and Razor Eddie drifted away, talking quietly together. I would have given a lot to hear what those two very different souls might have in common, but I had a job to do.
    “I didn’t know King of Skin, except by reputation,” said Rogue. “So what possible reason could I have for killing him?”
    “I was hoping you might tell me,” I said. “Why did you come here tonight, for the first time?”
    “Every time is someone’s first time,” said Rogue. “My family has been destroyed. Murdered. I was looking for something new to belong to. One must make a family where one can, these days. But it is very hard to make new friends when nobody trusts you.”
    “Lot of that going around,” I said. “Don’t go anywhere; I may have more questions.”
    Rogue smiled sweetly. “I come and go as I please.”
    I gave him a hard look. “Even if you could get past Hadleigh at the door, which you can’t, there’s nowhere you can go that I couldn’t find you.”
    “Ah yes,” murmured Rogue. “Your famous gift. I have a gift too, courtesy of my family.”
    And right before my eyes, the flesh shifted suddenly on his face, slipping back and forth, until my own face looked back at me, complete in every detail.
    “I can be anyone,” said Rogue, with my lips but his voice. A really very disturbing effect.
    “Ah yes,” I said, carefully casual. “Flesh-dancing. I had heard the stories . . . that everyone in your family could change their face or body, to hide in plain sight. That’s what made you all such marvellous traitors and back-stabbers.”
    “Well, quite,” said Rogue, changing back to his own face.
    I gave him my best sneer and left him to it. Something about Rogue’s supercilious manners and quiet contempt got on my nerves, but not enough for me to peg him as a major suspect. He was right; he had no motive. Never been here before, never even met King of Skin, wasn’t even here long enough to be insulted by him. But there were no murders until he turned up. Something to think about.
    I found the Bride and Springheel Jack arguing quietly but fiercely with Hadleigh Oblivion. They wanted to leave, and he was having none of it. They all looked round as I approached. Springheel Jack took a step towards me, but the Bride stopped him immediately with a large hand on his arm.
    “Sorry,” I said. “But the Detective Inspectre is following my orders. Nobody leaves till we’ve sorted this out. Do you have somewhere you need to be?”
    “An unseen murderer, with an unknown weapon, hiding among the immortals?” said Jack. “I want the Bride out of here. It’s not safe.”
    “Your concern is touching, Jack, but if you don’t cut this condescending crap right now, I will slap you a good one,” said the Bride. “I am old enough to be your great-grandmother, and I know how to look after myself.”
    “King of Skin almost certainly felt the same,” said Springheel Jack. He looked around the crowded ball-room. “Something isn’t right here. I can feel it. Like a premonition . . . Someone else is going to die here. There’s a wolf hiding among the sheep, and oh his teeth are sharp . . .”
    He seemed almost to be in a trance. I looked at the Bride.
    “Does he have the Sight?”
    “I don’t know,” said the Bride. “Being Springheel Jack makes him more aware of the horrors of the world, but the state doesn’t exactly come with a user’s manual. If he says someone’s going to die, I’d put money on it . . . Jack. Jack!”
    He looked at her blankly for a moment, then shuddered suddenly, as though someone had tripped over his grave.
    “We need to get out of here, lover. Something bad is coming.”
    “Then help me find the killer,” I said. “You can start by answering some questions.”
    “Go ahead,” said the Bride.
    “King of Skin spoke with you,” I said to Springheel Jack.