Forces from Beyond

by Simon R. Green

  “If the world ever finds out,” said JC, “it will almost certainly die of embarrassment.” He fixed Latimer with a cold stare. “I’ll say it again, this whole situation is way out of our league. We should turn this over to the heavy players, even if it means having to go cap in hand to the Droods or the London Knights.”

  “They wouldn’t listen to us,” Latimer said flatly. “I have been very thoroughly discredited. By the time I could convince anyone to take a closer look at the evidence, it would be far too late. Of all the people I’ve already reached out to, people I’ve helped and supported in the past . . . the only one to come forward was Julien Advent. And that’s only because he’s family. No. We have to do this . . . There’s no-one else left.”

  “There’s a depressing thought,” said Happy.

  Latimer got up from her bar-stool. “Time to go, children.”

  Happy downed the last of the champagne in his glass, put it down on the bar top, and looked wistfully at the bottle. Melody took him firmly by the arm and steered him away.

  “The Club’s Management will lock up after us,” said Latimer.

  “They’re here?” said Melody, immediately suspicious. “Could they have been listening in?”

  “My Grandfather paid for privacy,” said Latimer. She smiled briefly. “Follow me, my gang.”

  She led the way to the door. Natasha slipped an arm through JC’s, batted her heavy eyelashes at him, and snuggled up against his side.

  “This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

  “No it couldn’t,” said JC, very firmly.

  | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |

  They left the Wulfshead Club and went back out into the deserted alley-way. The shadows seemed darker than ever, the garbage even more foul, and the smell hit them in the face like a flying half-brick. The silver door slammed emphatically shut behind them; and when they turned to look, the door had already disappeared. Nothing remained but an expanse of heavily graffitied brick wall. Happy stopped, and his head came up sharply.

  “Pay attention, people; we are not alone . . .”

  They all looked quickly around them but couldn’t see anything. The shadows were still, and even the garbage piles had stopped moving.

  “We’re being watched,” Happy said quietly. “By something really close at hand. I can feel it, like someone prodding me with a stick.”

  “Could it be the Club’s security?” said Melody.

  “The Roaring Boys?” said Latimer. “I don’t think so. You never see them coming.”

  “You said something, at first, Happy,” said JC. “Then you said someone. Which is it?”

  “Hard to tell,” said Happy. His eyes were fey and far away. “I can’t seem to get a fix on it . . . I’ve never encountered anything like this . . .”

  “Could it be the Faust, in a new body?” said Melody.

  “No,” Happy said immediately. “I’d recognise that sack of shit’s psychic imprint, whatever body he was hiding in. This is . . . something new. Or perhaps very old . . .”

  JC turned to Natasha, still clinging tightly to his arm. “Tell me you’ve got a car standing by.”

  “Of course!” said Chang. “There’s a limousine waiting at the end of the alley. You’ll like it, Happy; it’s got a built-in bar. We travel in style at the Crowley Project.”

  JC looked around for Kim, worried that he couldn’t see her anywhere. “Kim! Are you here? It’s time we were going!”

  The ghost girl stepped elegantly out of the brick wall immediately opposite him; and everyone jumped, just a little. She smiled warmly.

  “Hi, guys! I didn’t like being here on my own, so I opted for a little personal camouflage . . .” Her smile snapped off as she looked at Natasha Chang. “JC, why is that woman clinging to your arm?”

  JC quickly retrieved his arm and stepped away from Chang, trying hard not to look in any way guilty. Kim looked challengingly at Chang, who stared haughtily back at her.

  “We’re all friends again,” Chang said coldly. “Get used to it.”

  “Friends?” said Kim, dangerously.

  “Allies!” JC said quickly. “Kim, Happy says someone, or possibly something, is watching us. And not in a good way. Have you seen anything?”

  “No,” said Kim, reluctantly turning her attention back to him. “But I have heard something . . . now and again. I thought it was just the local wildlife.” She glared at Chang. “What is this woman doing here, exactly? What use is she?”

  “I was about to make the same point about you,” said Chang. “Everyone knows you can’t trust the dead; they always have their own agenda. Even the ones who say they’re in love with the living. Perhaps especially those.”

  “No bickering in the ranks!” Latimer said sharply. “Let’s get out of here. Where is this limousine?”

  Natasha Chang led the way down the alley, stepping elegantly past puddles and over garbage, leaving the others to follow after her. But when they reached the far end of the alley-way, she stopped abruptly and looked around her, confused.

  “Where’s my car?”

  JC pointed to a great steel cube, just outside the alley. “I have a horrible suspicion that’s it. I think someone has crushed and compacted your limousine.”

  “We’re not doing too well with cars today, are we?” said Happy.

  “Someone has compacted my limousine?” said Natasha, her voice rising sharply with sheer fury. “I’ll have their balls!”

  “You might care to consider just how much strength it would take to do that to a car,” said JC. “Given that I don’t see any sign of a car compacter around here . . . Whoever’s watching us did this themselves, just to send a message.”

  “I would have settled for a singing telegram,” said Happy. “Sorry; I always get flippant when I’m wetting myself with fear.”

  “Can you call for another car?” said Latimer.

  “Of course,” said Chang. “Might have some trouble getting another chauffeur, though.”

  “Ouch,” said Melody, looking at the steel cube and wincing. “Also, ick.”

  “Heads up, people!” said Happy, glaring quickly about him. “Someone is definitely here with us! It’s on the move!”

  They all turned quickly to look back down the alley.

  “How close?” said Latimer.

  “Really close!” said Happy.

  “Then why can’t we see them?” said JC.

  “Because it doesn’t want to be seen,” said Happy. “Not yet.”

  “Make a circle,” said Latimer.

  They all moved quickly to form a defensive circle, standing close together, shoulder to shoulder, staring out. Standard field manoeuvre. Kim rose into the air above them, turning quickly to look from one end of the alley to the other. But no matter where any of them looked, they couldn’t see anything. The alley was still and silent. Chang suddenly had a weapon in her hand, a nasty-looking gold-plated pistol. She slammed off the safety, the sound loud and carrying in the tense silence. Melody looked at the gun enviously. JC looked at the street beyond the steel cube.

  “I don’t see or hear any traffic,” he said. “No signs of any passersby . . . And no-one appears to have noticed a whole limousine being rendered down into the handy take-away size. Which leads me to believe the whole area has been sealed off. Someone doesn’t want any witnesses for whatever’s about to happen.”

  “I don’t want to be compacted!” said Happy.

  “How did they know we’re here?” said Melody. “Who knew we’d be meeting the Boss at the Wulfshead?”

  Everyone turned their heads to look at Natasha Chang.

  “Don’t look at me, darlings,” she said. “I’m right here in the trap with you.”

  “And the Management wouldn’t talk,” said Latimer. Her mouth pulled into a tight grimace as she consi
dered the possibilities. “I must have been followed. By someone very good if I couldn’t spot them.” Her scowl deepened. “I went to the Nightside for help. Where did the cabal go? Or who did they go to?”

  JC looked at Happy. “Aren’t you getting anything?”

  “I’m not feeling well,” said Happy.

  “You look like crap,” said Chang.

  Happy’s face was pulled taut by pain and strain, his eyes hot and feverish. He leaned heavily on Melody’s supporting arm.

  “I’ve put a lot of pressure on my body, and my mind, and I think they’ve both had enough,” he said quietly. “Everything’s breaking down.”

  “Do you need your pills?” said Melody.

  “Always,” said Happy. “But I don’t think they’d help. You can only stretch something so far before it breaks. Dear God I’m tired. I need some downtime and a nice apple.”

  “Once we get out of here, I’ll see you get all the rest you need,” said JC. “But . . .”

  “No!” said Happy. “No more buts! I can only work with what I’ve got. I am worn so thin now . . .”

  Melody hugged his arm tightly to her side. “We need you, sweetie.”

  “I know,” said Happy. “That’s always been the problem. I’d die for one of my special pills, but I can’t risk it. So bite the bullet one more time.” A thin runnel of blood popped out of his left nostril and ran down his mouth and chin as he concentrated. Melody found a handkerchief and mopped up the blood. Happy didn’t even notice. “I’m getting . . . a name. The Hound.”

  “Oh shit,” said Catherine Latimer.

  Everyone turned to look at her, with something like shock. They’d never heard her sound scared before.

  “The Hound?” JC said finally. “It’s not a name I recognise. And I thought I’d at least heard of all the really dangerous independent operators.”

  “The Hound works for whoever will meet its price,” said Latimer. “It can track anyone, following their psychic scent.”

  “A tracker for hire?” said JC.

  “An assassin for hire,” said Latimer. “It eats hearts.”

  “Should we be running?” said Happy.

  “You can’t outrun the Hound,” said Latimer. “No-one can.”

  “I’m willing to give it a try,” said Happy.

  “Thought you weren’t feeling well?” said Chang.

  “Stark terror is a wonderful motivator,” said Happy.

  JC looked up at Kim, still standing on the air above them. “Can you see anything?”

  “No,” said Kim. “And I can see things that aren’t even really there.”

  JC took off his sunglasses and glared up and down the alley-way. Fierce golden light leapt out of his eyes, lighting up the alley bright as day. Everyone except Latimer had to turn their heads away. JC concentrated, and the shadows seemed to wither and disperse before him, giving up their secrets. But there was nothing there that mattered. The graffiti on the walls came alive under his gaze, full of new significance and meaning. He could see layers of information, like palimpsests in ancient manuscripts, one layer adding meaning to another. It was like being in a library where all the books were shouting their contents at him. JC had to look away. Down the alley-way, he could see ghost images, of people coming and going. Crowds of them, stepping in and out of each other, going back years. Not actual spirits, just images imprinted on the surroundings by the sheer presence of the individuals involved. A lot of very special people come to the Wulfshead Club. JC recognised some of them and had a distinct feeling some of them could see him.

  He could see more than one door hidden inside the alley’s walls, or at least the potential for doors. None of them the kind that would lead him anywhere he’d want to go.

  And above it all a strong sense of being watched by cold, inhuman eyes. But no matter where JC looked, he couldn’t see anyone or anything. JC put his sunglasses back on, and the golden glow cut off abruptly. It flared briefly around the edges of his sunglasses as he settled them back into place; and that was it. The alley seemed so much smaller, even diminished, in its own cold light. Everyone around JC relaxed, just a little. Except for Catherine Latimer, who didn’t seem in the least bit bothered. But then, there wasn’t much that bothered the Boss. JC wondered if what he’d just seen was how she saw the world all the time.

  “Boss,” he said. “The Hound; what is it?”

  “I don’t think anyone knows for sure,” said Latimer. “It’s old. Very old. Some say it was found in a long box, buried under an ancient abandoned city of iron pillars, deep in the Abyssinian desert. Some say it was found in a cave during the Crusades, being worshipped by corrupt Coptic priests. Some say Carter found it waiting for him, inside Tutankhamen’s tomb. People say a lot of things; but no-one knows anything for sure when it comes to the Hound. It’s supposed to be older than Egypt, perhaps even older than Humanity . . . The Hound. The original dog-faced god. No-one can hide from it, or escape from it. You pay for its services in blood and souls and the slaughter of innocents.” She shook her head slowly. “I can’t believe the cabal would go to such lengths to put it on my trail. So many deaths to pay for mine. The bastards.”

  “Oh shit!” said Happy.

  Suddenly, it was racing down the alley towards them. Bursting out of the deepest and darkest of the shadows. A large dog-headed shape, part human and part hound, long and sleek and deadly. Savage eyes burned blood-red, blazing in the gloom. Its long, grinning muzzle was full of jagged teeth. Powerful muscles bunched and flexed under its dark-furred hide as it sprinted towards them. Clawed hands and feet gouged chunks out of the alley floor. Its stench filled the air, rank and bitter and feral.

  Natasha Chang opened fire on the fast-moving creature with her pistol, but even though she was facing the Hound at almost point-blank range, somehow the Hound was never where she was aiming. It darted and dodged with incredible speed, its movements a blur. Chang’s bullets chewed up brickwork on both walls and blew apart piles of garbage but never once came close to hitting their intended target.

  Happy reached out with his mind, only to immediately cry out in distress, just from touching the thing’s thoughts. He fell to his knees and vomited miserably, soiled to his soul just by the briefest of contacts. Melody quickly put herself between Happy and the approaching Hound, scrabbling through her pockets, desperately trying to find something she could use as a weapon.

  Kim shot down from above and threw herself at the Hound. It jumped right through her, and the ghost girl screamed horribly. She fell out of the air like a wounded bird and half-disappeared into the alley floor, shaking and shuddering from psychic shock.

  JC cried out furiously and went to meet the Hound with clenched fists; but Catherine Latimer pushed him to one side and faced the Hound. Her eyes glowed suddenly golden, blazing bright as the sun, and the Hound slammed to a halt, well short of her. As though it had crashed into an invisible wall.

  It rose on its spindly hind legs and stood like a man. Showing itself off, so they could all adore its inhuman perfection. It towered over them, a good eight feet tall. Its face was an awful mixture of canine and human and something else, something more. The eyes were old, horribly old. It threw back its long head and laughed like a hyena, and everyone winced at the sound of it. The Hound took a step forward, its ancient eyes glaring unblinkingly into the golden glow issuing from Catherine Latimer’s eyes. Its clawed hands reached out to her.

  Kim appeared beside JC and stepped inside him. The golden glow burst out all around his body as the two joined together, the brilliant light leaping out to fill the whole alley-way. The Hound snarled angrily and fell back, turning its head away. JC laughed softly and went forward to meet it, slipping his blessed and cursed knuckle-dusters onto his right hand. The Hound turned its head slowly back to face him, grinning its terrible grin. The dog-faced god, older than Humanity, older than history. JC laughed
in its face.

  It struck at him with its clawed hands, and snapped at him with its great teeth, and he evaded them easily, drawing on inhuman levels of strength and speed. He punched the Hound in the mouth, and the creature fell back a step, startled. It made a surprised sound, as though it hadn’t known it could be hurt. JC closed with the Hound and hit it in the head again and again, driving it back down the alley, step by step. Until JC landed a particularly solid blow and felt as much as heard the long skull crack and break under his fist.

  The Hound howled horribly and fell to one knee. JC grabbed hold of the Hound and wrestled with it, using all the strength given him by Outside forces. His eyes were glowing unbearably now. He and the Hound surged back and forth, pitting inhuman strength against inhuman strength, until finally JC stuck one leg behind the Hound’s, tripped it, and threw it to the ground. It landed hard, with an ungodly thrashing of limbs. JC followed it down and pinned it in place. He held it there, even as it struggled desperately, clawing at his arms and shoulders. JC gritted his teeth as blood blossomed on his white jacket. He drew back his fist and drove the blessed and cursed knuckle-dusters into the Hound’s head with all his strength; and the Hound fell back and lay still.

  Panting hard, twitching and trembling, but not fighting any more.

  Catherine Latimer went down on one knee beside JC. She fixed the Hound with her golden gaze; and it couldn’t look away. And while it lay there, held by the sheer force of the power within her, Latimer drew a silver knife from inside her jacket sleeve and cut the Hound’s throat.

  It died surprisingly quickly. Its blood was just blood. It looked confused at the end. As though it didn’t understand how anything human could be killing it. And then the light went out of its eyes, its hind legs kicked a few times, and it lay still and dead on the filthy floor of the alley-way.

  Latimer made the knife disappear back up her sleeve and reached out her hand to JC. At first he didn’t want to let go of the Hound, afraid it might get up again. But Latimer murmured soothing words in his ear until, finally, he pushed the limp body away and stood up. He was breathing hard, and not just from his exertions. He put his sunglasses back on, with a perfectly steady hand, and Kim stepped back out of him. The golden glow surrounding JC snapped off immediately. Catherine Latimer’s eyes were perfectly normal again. The only light in the alley seeped in from the distant street-lamps. Natasha Chang looked back and forth between JC and Latimer, as though trying to work out which of them was the more dangerous. She realised she was still holding her gold-plated pistol and put it away. Happy leaned heavily on Melody.