The Spy Who Haunted Me

by Simon R. Green

  Walker surprised me by taking a deep lungful of the freezing cold air, and then smiling broadly. “Now, that’s more like it. Good fresh country air. Bracing! Makes you feel good to be alive.”

  “You’re as weird as everyone says you are,” snarled Peter King, hugging himself against the cold and looking thoroughly miserable and put-upon. “It’s cold, it’s damp . . . and I appear to be standing in some sheep droppings.”

  “Don’t rub it off,” the Blue Fairy said wisely. “That’s supposed to bring good luck.”

  “It won’t be lucky for the bloody sheep if I get my hands on it,” Peter said darkly, scraping the bottom of his shoe against the spiky grass with grim determination. “These are expensive shoes. Hand-tooled by craftsmen to look good in expensive boardrooms, not assaulted by the unregulated filth of the countryside!”

  “I didn’t think it could get this cold outside the Arctic Circle,” said Honey Lake, shuddering inside her long white fur coat. “I wouldn’t be surprised to see a polar bear come swimming down those waters. Probably with a penguin tap-dancing on its back.”

  “I like it here,” Katt decided. The cold didn’t seem to be bothering her at all, despite her flimsy dress. She moved in beside me and slipped a slender, knowing arm through mine. She snuggled in close and beamed happily up at me. “It’s very . . . scenic. Dramatic, even. I’d swear that wind’s wuthering. Still, no place for a delicate flower of the city like me.”

  “You’re about as delicate as a steamhammer,” said the Blue Fairy. “I’ve seen the state of some of your victims after you’ve finished with them.”

  Katt pulled a face at him, and then smiled adoringly up at me from where she was apparently welded to my side. “You and I belong together, Eddie. We appreciate the true qualities of a place like this. We’re both . . . free spirits, independent and unrestrained! We belong in the wild, far from the chains and restrictions of civilised behaviour . . .”

  I had to smile at her. “Before this goes any further, Katt, I feel I should point out that I am a Drood. We’re trained to recognise a honey trap and to know real bullshit when we hear it. So save the honeyed words and the ego massage for the civilians.”

  Katt laughed easily, not offended in the least. “Can’t blame a girl for trying, darling. And you’d be surprised how many supposedly intelligent men will fall for the most blatant flattery, even in these so-called sophisticated days. Especially if I take a deep breath and push my bosoms out.”

  I looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. “How many, Katt? How many men have you seduced, betrayed, and murdered, down the years?”

  She shrugged prettily. “I don’t keep count, Eddie. It’s just a job. Some men more than others . . . Some were quite sweet.”

  “And you killed them all? Even the ones you were fond of?”

  “Especially the ones I was fond of, darling. I’ve never allowed anyone to have a hold over me.”

  “And you never loved any of them?”

  “What a thing to ask, sweetie! I loved them all! In my own way.” She looked out over the loch, her beautiful Asian features untouched by any emotion I could recognise. “I really don’t know what I’m doing here. I mean, monster hunting is so not me. I have always been strictly espionage and problem disposal, with the occasional side order of treachery and blackmail. Stick to what you’re best at; that’s what I always say. The honey trap has always been part of the grand old tradition of spycraft. I am glamorous and decorative, not practical. I do not get my hands dirty, in the literal sense. It’s in my contract.”

  “And I suppose you feel the need for a big strong man to look after you,” I said. “To protect you from the nasty monster.”

  “Exactly!” Katt snuggled in close again and looked up at me from under heavily mascaraed eyelids. “I don’t do mysteries, I don’t fight monsters, and I very definitely don’t do roughing it. I mean, come on; what am I supposed to do if we should find a monster here? Chuck it under the chin and beguile it with my famous charms?”

  “If anyone could, you could,” I said generously.

  Katt sighed. “I don’t know why Alexander ever thought to choose me for his precious contest.”

  “I think the idea is, we’re supposed to learn to work as a group, calling on our various talents as required,” I said. “All of us working together, for the greater good.”

  “Until we have to betray each other,” said Katt.

  I smiled at her. “I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that. Now, if I could have my arm back, please? I have no intention of getting close to you, in any sense of the word. I would quite like to die in bed, but preferably of old age. So do us both a favour and go vamp somebody else.”

  She smiled sunnily, let go of my arm, and stepped away. “Your loss, darling.”

  She strode off, still somehow sure-footed and graceful even on the muddy bank of the loch. She was heading for Walker, and I mentally wished him the best of luck. I moved over to stand beside Honey, who was staring suspiciously out over the dark unmoving waters of the loch as though she suspected them of planning something. She was standing straight and tall, her hands planted on her hips, looking very much like a general contemplating the field before a battle.

  “We have to get organised,” she said, acknowledging my presence without looking around. “We’re on a deadline, and the clock is ticking. Alexander didn’t look as bad as I’d been led to expect, but we have no way of knowing how accurate that vision was. He could go at any time and take all his secrets with him, the selfish bastard. He has a duty to hand over his hoarded information to those best suited to make good use of it. Not make it the prize in a stupid game.”

  “I don’t think Alexander King has ever been very strong on duty,” I said.

  She glanced at me and smiled briefly. “We’d better work together on this, Eddie. We’re the only real professionals in this group.”

  “There’s Walker,” I said.

  “Too much of an unknown quantity. Never trust anyone from the Nightside.”

  “And the Blue Fairy might just surprise us.”

  “Never trust an elf.”

  I had to smile. “Come on, Honey. You’re CIA. You don’t trust anyone.”

  She looked at me severely. “You have to trust someone, or you’ll never get anything done. The day of the independent operative is over, Eddie. The world’s grown too big, too complicated, for the lone wolf following hunches and instincts. Only big organisations have the resources to deal with today’s problems.”

  “My family would agree with you,” I said. “But I’ve always had problems with my family.”

  “So I’ve heard,” said Honey. “Why do you do it, Eddie? Why do the Droods feel they have the right to run roughshod over the whole world?”

  “Because we’ve been doing it for hundreds of years,” I said. “And we’re very good at it.”

  “Not always,” said Honey.

  “Well,” I said. “No one wants to be insufferable.”

  She laughed. It was a free, easy sound, utterly at odds with her determined stance and coolly professional face.

  “You give your whole life to this, don’t you?” she said. “All you Droods. You play the game till it kills you, or till you drop in your tracks. Why would you do that?”

  “Someone has to,” I said.

  “No, really. Why?”

  “Really?” I considered the question. “Duty. Responsibility. Or maybe just because for all its treacheries and dangers, it’s still the best game in the world. The only one worthy of our talents. Why do you do it?”

  “Oh, hell, Eddie, it’s just a job. A way up the ladder, towards getting on and moving up. I’m going to be somebody, doing things that matter. Making the decisions that matter.” She glanced at me. “You Droods don’t care about politics. The rest of us don’t have that luxury.” She looked out over the loch again, making it clear with her body language that the subject was closed. “So, how do you find one monster in a lake this size?”<
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  “Good question,” I said.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I was watching Katt try out her charms on Walker. (It’s a poor secret agent who can’t think about two things at the same time.) Katt kept trying to slip her arm through Walker’s, and he kept dodging her without quite seeming to be aware that he was doing it. Finally he turned and looked at her, and she actually fell back a pace. Even at a distance, I could feel the chill in his gaze, colder than the Scottish air could ever be. He said something, and Katt reacted as though she’d been struck in the face. She gave Walker a quick professional smile, turned her back on him, and stalked away with her nose in the air. Walker went back to studying the loch, his face calm and thoughtful and entirely untroubled. I decided I’d better keep a watchful eye on Walker. Anyone who could stare down Lethal Harmony of Kathmandu and send her running for cover was clearly a man to be reckoned with.

  Katt stalked right past the Blue Fairy without even glancing in his direction, presumably because she knew all her charms and skills would be wasted on the famously homosexual half elf. She had nothing that would interest him, except perhaps fashion tips. Honey was saying something useful but boring about the necessity for taking direct action, but I was still watching the Blue Fairy. All of us looked out of place in this wild and savage setting, but he looked more than usually lost. He had his hands thrust deep into his belt, and his chin was buried in his wilting ruff as he glowered at the muddy ground before him. He looked tired, and alone, and out of his depth. My first reaction was Good. Serves him right.

  But . . . I’d known Blue a long time, on and off. I liked him, trusted him, gave him a chance to be a hero in the Hungry Gods War. He turned his back on that, and on me, just for a chance to ingratiate himself with his arrogant elf kindred. I should have known . . . and I should have known better. The Blue Fairy’s whole history was one of broken words, cold-blooded betrayal, and falling short. He liked to say he was somebody, back in the day, but truth be told he wasn’t, though he could have been . . . if he hadn’t thrown it all away, indulging his many weaknesses. And he was half-elf. Never trust an elf. Everyone knows that. I really shouldn’t take it personally that he let me down in front of my whole family after I vouched for him. That he made me look bad.

  That was what the Blue Fairy did.

  He stole a torc from the Droods and got away with it. You had to admire him for that. No one else had ever managed it. Give the man credit for thinking big. And I of all people understood the demands of family; the need almost despite yourself to belong, to be accepted . . . and all the stupid self-destructive things that could drive a man to. So I left Honey talking authoritatively to herself and strolled over to join the Blue Fairy. I didn’t hurry. I wanted to give him time to move away, if he wanted. But he just looked around as he sensed me approaching, raised one hand briefly to the golden torc at his throat, and then turned almost defiantly to face me. His head came up, his mouth firmed, and he stood his ground. He’d come a long way from the broken, defeated man I’d found more dead than alive in a pokey little flat in Wimbledon. If nothing else, it seemed his time at the Fae Court had put some backbone into him.

  I stopped a respectful distance away and nodded briskly. “Cold day,” I said. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a flask of something bracing about you?”

  He smiled briefly, as though he wasn’t used to it anymore. His eyes were watchful. “Sorry,” he said. “I had to give all that up when I took my place at the Fae Court. They insisted. Elves take a very firm stand on personal weaknesses. Not just frowned on; not allowed. When you’re an elf, even your failings have to be on a grand scale. Anything less is beneath us. I do miss my old sins, my old indulgences . . . much in the way I miss my childhood, when I could make all the mistakes I wanted, secure in the knowledge it didn’t really matter. But that was such a long time ago. I was a different person then. I’ve finally grown up, Eddie, and I don’t think I like it at all.” He met my gaze steadily. “Are you really prepared to kill me, to get your precious torc back?”

  “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “Probably.”

  He nodded. “You’d make a good elf.”

  “Now you’re just being nasty.”

  We shared a smile. Perhaps it’s only old friends and old enemies who can be really honest with each other. We stood side by side for a while, looking out over the loch. The gray skies were now definitely overcast, and the waters seemed darker. The wind was blowing steadily, the bitter cold sinking into my bones. I stamped my feet into the mud and spiky grass to keep the circulation going. If Blue felt the cold, he hid it well. He smiled suddenly and drew my attention to farther down the bank, where Katt was snuggling up to Peter King. It was like watching a cat stalk a mouse. But to my surprise, Peter didn’t seem in the least intimidated by her practiced glamour or by the way she was expertly pressing her body against his. He politely disengaged his arm from hers, stepped back, and said something no doubt calm and civilised and very firm. Katt stared at him as though she couldn’t believe it, and then dismissed him utterly with a turned back, kicking at the grass as she stomped away. I don’t think she was used to being turned down by so many men in one day.

  “Didn’t see that coming,” said the Blue Fairy. “Thought for sure she’d eat young Peter alive.”

  “A chip off the old block, I suppose,” I said. “Alexander King was quite the lady-killer in his day. Sometimes literally. Oh, look; I think Peter’s found some more sheep droppings.”

  “How lucky can one man get?” Blue said solemnly. “Have you noticed, Walker seems quite at home in this primitive and entirely uncivilised place. Not what you’d expect from a man who spends his whole life walking the mean streets of the Nightside, where the sun never shines . . . It’s as though nothing here can touch him.”

  “Nothing here would dare,” I said. “Everyone’s heard of Walker. Hello; now Honey’s going over to talk to him. I think perhaps we should wander over and do a little shameless eavesdropping. We can’t afford to be left out of anything. Not in this group.”

  “Hear all, see all, and keep our thoughts to ourselves,” said the Blue Fairy.

  “You see?” I said. “You’d make a good Drood.”

  “Now who’s being nasty?”

  We laughed briefly, and then he looked at me with an expression on his face I couldn’t read.

  “It’s all right that you never liked me,” he said finally. “Not many do.”

  “I liked you well enough,” I said. “I just never approved.”

  “I liked you,” he said. “Admired you, even. For having the nerve to tell your family to go to hell, and make it stick. For having the courage to live your own life, and go your own way, and to hell with what anyone expected of you. When you brought me into your family, I really did mean to make you proud of me. But . . . you should never trust an elf, Eddie. And a desperate, lonely, stupid half elf least of all.”

  “Let’s go see what Honey and Walker are up to,” I said. Why is it always the ones who aren’t really your friends who insist on baring their souls to you?

  We joined Honey and Walker just as she stuck her face right into his and demanded he use his legendary Voice to summon the monster to the surface of the loch. Walker, not one bit intimidated, stood his ground and gave her back stare for stare. Peter and Katt hurried over, not wanting to be left out of anything.

  “Voice?” said Peter just a bit breathlessly. “What Voice?”

  “They say many things about Walker, in the Nightside,” I said. “Most important, they say he has a Voice no one can resist, that can compel anyone to say or do anything. A Voice so powerful even the high-and-mighty gods and monsters of the Nightside must bow their arrogant heads and answer to it. There are even those who say Walker once made a corpse sit up on its mortuary slab and answer his questions.”

  “It was just the once,” said Walker. “I wish everyone would stop making such a big fuss about it.”

  “Oh,” said Peter. “That Voice.”


  “Would it work outside the Nightside?” said the Blue Fairy.

  “I don’t think it works at all,” I said, making a sudden connection. There was nothing in Walker’s face or bearing to give the truth away, but suddenly I just knew . . . and a great many things made sense. “You don’t have your Voice anymore, do you, Walker? Because if you did, you would have used it on Alexander King to make him give up his secrets. You never jumped through hoops for anyone before this. No, your Voice was bestowed on you by the Authorities, when they first put you in charge of policing the Nightside. How else could one mortal man be expected to keep the peace in a place like that? But the Authorities are dead and gone now, and so is their gift. Right, Walker?”

  He looked at me coolly, saying nothing, but sometimes silence is its own answer. I felt like jumping in the air and doing high fives with myself. I knew now what Alexander King had offered Walker to tempt him into this contest: a new Voice. Honey made a short, exasperated sound and moved abruptly away from Walker to stare out over the loch again.

  “What do we know about this place?” she said loudly. “I mean, I know the story, the legend of Nessie; everyone does. But that’s about it.”

  “I can tell you that Aleister Crowley once lived here,” said Walker unexpectedly. “He had a great house, right on the side of the loch, to which he summoned his pathetic followers to teach them the ways of magic. And in that dark and feverish place, he and his circle danced and took drugs and had all kinds of sex, driving themselves to exhaustion and beyond, all in the service of one great unholy ritual.”

  “Crowley,” said Katt. “I sort of know the name, but . . .”

  “Kids today,” said the Blue Fairy, shaking his head.

  “The Great Beast,” Walker said patiently. “Called by some, not least himself, the Wickedest Man in the World. Back in the thirties, his name was a curse on the lips of the world, hated and feared and reviled, and he loved it. People would cross themselves when they saw him in the street. Perhaps he started to believe his own press; I don’t know. But he came here, and in that house, in that place, he and his followers tried to invoke and summon a great and primal power. But when he caught a glimpse of precisely what it was he was trying to bring through into our reality, he was so horrified he broke off the working and ran away screaming, along with his shattered followers. He ran all the way back to England, and many said he was never the same after that. The house is still here. It’s said to be haunted by bad dreams.”