The Bride Wore Black Leather

grace and spirituality, and smiled benevolently on us.
    “I am Sister Dorethea, of the Very Righteous Sisters of the Holy Druids, and I welcome you both to the Garden of Green Henge. Oh bloody hell, it’s John Taylor.”
    She scowled at me balefully while Julien did his best to hide a smile.
    “You must get that a lot, John.”
    “You have no idea,” I said. “Yes, Sister; I am John Taylor, the newly appointed Walker. And this is . . .”
    “Oh, I know who he is,” said Sister Dorethea, losing her scowl to smile at Julien Advent. “The Great Victorian Adventurer is known to all of us here and is always welcome to enter the Garden of Green Henge. But you, Taylor, your reputation precedes you. You only get to come in on sufferance because you’re with him. So watch your manners, don’t go straying from the path, and
don’t touch anything
.”
    I nodded. I always let people set their own restrictions, if only so I can have the fun of breaking them.
    “Are you real Druids?” I said innocently. “I mean, if the Stones are fake . . .”
    She gave me a full-on look of withering scorn. “The Stones are not
fake
. They are all real menhirs, transported from the south-west of England, from the small town of Avebury. Apparently because they had so many, it was felt they could spare some. The Circles may be . . . more recent, but the Stones are in every way real, and we venerate them as such. The Garden is a sacred site. So watch yourself, Taylor.”
    “Do you do souvenirs?” I asked.
    She turned away from me with magnificent disdain and introduced herself to Julien Advent, who was, of course, perfectly charming and polite. I never really got the hang of either of those. I took the opportunity to study Sister Dorethea’s face, that being all there was of her that wasn’t covered by voluminous robes. She had the look of a lady of a certain age, where all the children have left home but haven’t got around to providing grandchildren yet. Leaving the lady in question with a big gap in her life that she had to fill with something. Good causes usually suffice, but out-of-the-way religions and beliefs often come a close second. If there isn’t a local swingers’ club. And, of course, the Nightside is no stranger to those with too much time on their hands, and is always happy to provide unusual opportunities. Very Righteous Sisters my arse.
    Didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous, though.
    Julien soon had Sister Dorethea smiling and cooing, and she led him through the darkness at the rear of the alcove. I hurried after them, not wanting to be left behind or left out of anything. I plunged into the dark and almost immediately stumbled to a halt again as the darkness was replaced by the silver-grey of a late evening in the countryside. I also heard the alcove closing itself very firmly behind me. Though whether to keep the scavengers out, or Julien and me in, remained to be seen. I looked cautiously about me. I was standing on a wide-open moor, in the twilight of the evening. Night had only just begun to fall here, though the full moon shone brightly overhead, fully as oversized as it was everywhere else in the Nightside. I glanced behind me, and of course the great wall was gone. Open and empty, the moorland stretched away unbroken for miles.
    We were in a pocket dimension, a small reality enclosed within a greater one, maintained by the magics built into the surrounding wall. There are a great many worlds within worlds, in the Nightside. It’s the only way we can fit everything in. The moor stretched away before me, all the way to a far-off horizon. And I had to wonder why they needed so much space, to hold a Circle of Standing Stones. A cold wind blew, in sudden chilly gusts, wuthering in the quiet twilight. Not all that far-away stood a massive hedgerow maze, maybe half a mile across, with the rows a good ten to twelve feet high. I’d heard of this maze. Green Henge was set right at the heart and centre of the maze, hidden from view by the tall green walls. Only the Very Righteous Sisters knew all the secrets of the maze, and so controlled access to the Stones.
    Sister Dorethea led us forward at a brisk, imperious pace. The ground was covered with scrubby grass and dry moss, which crunched loudly under our feet. As we drew closer, I could make out more Very Righteous Sisters, moving unhurriedly in and out of the various entrances to the maze, quietly going about their business like so many white-clad