The Bride Wore Black Leather

he froze and made a brief moue of distress. “Something large and furry has just scurried across my shoes, and I’m really hoping it was a much larger than usual rat.”
    “Don’t look down,” I advised him.
    “Is there a reason we’re still standing here?” said Julien.
    “You’re the one who started making conversation,” I said.
    And then we both looked round sharply as a figure paused at the end of the alleyway and looked in at us. Something in a frock struck an evocative pose and smiled professionally.
    “Evening, gents. Fancy a horrible time?”
    “Not now, George,” I said. “We’re working.”
    “Well, pardon me, I’m sure. Catch you on the flip side, darlings.”
    “I really think we should be leaving now,” Julien said firmly.
    I opened the gold pocket-watch, and the darkness within jumped out to swallow us up. I had a brief glimpse of things in the alleyway shrinking back from the living dark and even disappearing into concealed doorways; and then there was only falling and falling in the endless dark, surrounded by voices thundering in no human language. Spend too long in that terrible dark, and you start to understand what the voices are saying, and that’s even worse. My feet slammed suddenly against hard and unyielding ground, there was a flash of light, and the world returned. Julien and I were standing in a street familiar to both of us, bathed in the warm glow of amber street-lights and flaring neon signs. And right before us, where the legendary Hawk’s Wind Bar & Grille should have stood, was a great hole in the ground, dug out between two lowering buildings like the empty space left by a pulled tooth. Julien Advent shuddered and glared at me.
    “That . . . was a most unpleasant experience. Is it always like that when you travel through the watch?”
    “Mostly,” I said. “I keep hoping I’ll get used to it. Walker did.”
    “Either that, or he was an excellent actor,” said Julien.
    We were only saying things so we wouldn’t have to talk about what was really bothering us. Rather than look at the hole in the ground, I took a good look at the watching crowd. Quite a large gathering had turned out to see what was going on. Disasters and catastrophes count as free entertainment, in the Nightside. A slow buzz of conversation and comment moved through the crowd as they recognised Julien Advent and me. A few started to drift casually away. I couldn’t help but notice that most of the onlookers seemed far more interested in Julien than in me.
    “It’s not fair,” I said. “You always get more respect than me.”
    “Well, you get more fear,” Julien said generously. “And now you’re Walker, I’m sure the respect will come. In time.”
    “All the hard work I put into building a reputation that makes grown men weep and grow weak at the knees; and all you have to do is show up and no-one even notices I’m here.” I sniffed loudly. “I could have a neon sign over my head, listing all the people I’ve brought to justice, and they’d still look at you first.”
    “I have been around a lot longer than you,” said Julien. “And I do have more . . . classically handsome features.”
    “Never mind that,” I said. “Answer me this. What are all these naked people doing here?”
    I indicated the dozen or so entirely naked men and women cordoning off the great hole in the ground and discouraging anyone else from getting too close, apparently simply by looking at them.
    “Ah, yes,” said Julien Advent. “I phoned ahead, to have them close off and protect the area till we could take a look. These very impressive individuals are the Tantric Troops. The very latest addition to the Authorities’ private army of security personnel and useful people.”
    “Oh, them,” I said. “You mean the Fuck Buddies.”
    Julien winced. “Please, John. Don’t call them that in public. We want people to take them seriously. I know there are those who refer to the Troops by that . . . vulgar description, but I think we should insist on the correct name in front of the children. They’re so impressionable. The Troops are a puissant force in their own right. Every man and woman here can use tantric or sexual energies to power their magic; and no, I don’t want to go into the technicalities.”
    “I’d love to be around when they recharge their batteries,” I said.
    “Let us not go anywhere near there. The point is, no-one is going to intrude on the crime scene while