Kid Cthulhu screamed; and for the first time, he sounded human. He fell to his knees, no longer able to sustain his massive weight once the taint from Outside was gone. He fell forward onto his face, his flesh moving in great ripples of fat. And beside him stood the taint, a horrid twisting shape that made no sense at all in only three spatial dimensions. It howled its fury, in a voice I heard more with my mind than my ears. It didn’t belong in this world, stripped of the host it had been transforming into something suitable to birth its new form. I wondered briefly what that might have been. Nothing like Kid Cthulhu, certainly. It hurt just to look at the taint. Like a colour too vile for our spectrum, a shape like a living Rorschach blot that suggested only nightmares. Its very presence in this world was like fingernails scraping down the blackboard of my soul.
It came after me, moving in ways unknown in my comfortable, three-dimensional world. I ran for the raised stage at the back of the club, and it followed. It moved more like energy than anything physical, and that gave me an idea. Up on the stage, I backed slowly away. A bolt of vivid energy snapped out, and I had to throw myself to one side to avoid it. The taint came after me, rising and falling in the air. My back slammed up against a steel dancer’s pole. The taint fired another energy bolt. I ducked to one side, and the energy bolt hit the steel pole. The taint screamed as its energy grounded through the pole, discharging into the earth below, its howl rising and rising till it seemed to fill my head, and then the sound broke off as the taint disappeared, gone.
Now that I was out of danger, my arm and my shoulder and my face all hurt worse than ever, but I made myself get down from the stage and go over to where Bettie was still lying sprawled on the floor. As I approached, she raised her head a little, looked at me, then sat up easily.
“Is it over?” she said brightly. “I thought I’d better keep my head down, and not get in your way.” And then she saw the state of my face and scrambled to her feet. “Oh, John, sweetie, you’re hurt! What did he do to you?”
She produced a clean white handkerchief from somewhere, licked it briefly with a pointed tongue, and dabbed cautiously at my face, wiping the blood away. It hurt, but I let her do it. My left eye was puffed shut, but at least I’d stopped spitting blood.
“Looks worse than it is,” I said, trying to convince myself as much as Bettie.
“Hush,” she said. “Stand still. My hero.”
When she’d finished, she looked at the bloody handkerchief, pulled a face, and tucked it up one black leather sleeve. I looked thoughtfully at Kid Cthulhu, still lying where he’d fallen like a beached whale. I walked slowly over to him, Bettie trotting at my side. She managed to make it clear she was there to be leaned on, if necessary, but was considerate enough not to say it out loud. I stood over Kid Cthulhu, and he rolled his flat black eyes up in his stretched face to look at me.
“Kill you, Taylor. Kill you for this. Kill you, and all your friends, and everyone you know. I have people. I’ll send them after you, and I’ll never stop, never. Never!”
“I believe you,” I said. And I raised my foot and stamped down hard, right on the back of his fat neck. I felt as much as heard his neck break under my foot, and as easily as that the life went out of him. I stepped back. Bettie looked at me, horrified.
“You killed him. Just like that. How could you?”
“Because it was necessary,” I said “You heard him.”
“But…I never thought of you as a cold-blooded killer…You’re supposed to be better than that!”
“Mostly I am,” I said. “But no-one threatens me and mine.”
“I don’t know you at all, do I?” Bettie said slowly, looking at me steadily.
“I’m just…who I have to be,” I said.
And then we both looked round sharply. Someone new was there in the club with us, though I hadn’t heard him come in. He was standing on the raised stage, in a spotlight of his own, waiting patiently to be noticed. A tall and slender man with dark coffee-coloured skin, wearing a smartly cut pale grey suit, with an apricot cravat at his throat. He might have been any age, but there was an air of experience and quiet authority about him. As though he had so much power he didn’t need to put on a show. His head was shaven, gleaming in the spotlight. His eyes were kind, his smile pleasant; and I didn’t trust him an inch.
“You did well, in dealing with Kid Cthulhu,” he said finally, in a rich, smooth and cultured voice. “A very unpleasant fellow, destined to become something even more unpleasant. I would have taken care of him myself, in time, but you did a good job, Mr. Taylor.”
“And you are?” I said. “Though I have a horrible suspicion I already know.”
“I am the Removal Man. An honourable calling, in a dishonourable world. And I am here for the Afterlife Recording.”
“Of course you are,” I said. “It’s been that sort of a day. How did you know I was bringing it here?”
“Mr. Taylor,” the Removal Man said reproachfully, “I know what I need to know. It’s part of my function. Now be a good chap and hand over the DVD, and we can get through this without any…unpleasantness. It must be removed; it’s far too great a temptation for all concerned.”
“The Unnatural Inquirer owns exclusive rights to the Afterlife Recording,” said Bettie automatically, though I could tell she was getting tired of having to tell people that.
“I do not recognise the Law, or its bindings,” the Removal Man said easily. “I answer to a higher calling. Just hand over the DVD, Mr. Taylor, and I’ll be on my way. This doesn’t have to end badly. You must admit that the Nightside will be better off without the Recording. Look how much trouble it’s already caused.”
“You don’t need to do anything,” I said. I was trying very hard to sound casual and reasonable, like him. It’s not easy talking to someone who can probably make you disappear off the face of the Earth just by thinking about it. I added the probably as a sop to my pride, but I really didn’t want to get into a pissing contest with the Removal Man. I had the uneasy feeling that his legend might be a little bit more real than mine. “I’ve seen what’s on the DVD, and it’s nothing you need be concerned about. It’s a fake, the psychic imprinting of a disturbed mind.”
“You’ve seen it?” said the Removal Man, raising one elegant eyebrow. “Oh, dear. How very unfortunate. Now I have to take care of you as well.”
“But…I’ve seen it, too!” said Bettie. “It’s nothing! It’s a fake!”
The Removal Man shook his shaven head sadly, still smiling his kind smile. “Yes, well, you would say that, wouldn’t you?”
“You can’t just make us disappear!” Bettie said defiantly. “I work for the Unnatural Inquirer! I have the full resources of the paper behind me. And this is John Taylor! You know who his friends are. You really want Razor Eddie or Dead Boy coming after you? And anyway, what makes you so sure you’re always right? What makes you infallible? What gives you the right to judge the whole world and everyone in it?”
“Ah,” he said, smugly. “The secret origin of the Removal Man; is that what you want, little miss demon girl reporter? Yes, I know who you are, Miss Divine. I know who everyone is. Very well, then; I sold my soul to God. In return for power over the Earth and everything in it. Not God himself, as such, one of his representatives. But the deal is just as real. I am here to pass judgement on the wicked; and I do. Because someone has to. I’m changing the Nightside for the better; one thing, one person, one soul at a time. You mustn’t worry, Miss Divine. It won’t hurt a bit. Though really, gentlemen should go first. Isn’t that right, Mr. Taylor?”
Bettie moved immediately to put herself between me and the Removal Man. “You can’t! I won’t let you! He’s a good man, in his way. And he’s done more for the Nightside than you ever have!”
“Stand aside,” said the Removal Man. “Mr. Taylor goes first, because he is the most dangerous. And please, no more protestations. I really have heard them all before.”
Bettie was still searching for so
mething to say, when I took her by the arm and moved her gently but firmly to one side. “I don’t hide behind anyone,” I said to the Removal Man. “I don’t need to, you arrogant, self-righteous little prig.”
“Mr. Taylor…”
“What did you have to kill the Cardinal for? I liked him. He was no threat to anyone.”
“He betrayed his faith,” said the Removal Man. “He was a thief. And an abomination.”
“I’ve scraped more appealing things than you off the bottom of my shoe,” I said.
I raised my gift again and Saw right through the Removal Man. It wasn’t difficult to find out who he’d really made his deal with and show him the truth. Not God. Not God at all. I showed the Removal Man who’d really been pulling his strings all this time, and he screamed like a soul newly damned to Hell. He staggered back and forth on the raised stage, shaking his head in denial, even as he cried out in shock and loathing. Until finally, unable to face who and what he really was, he turned his power on himself and disappeared.
And that was the end of the Removal Man.
I hadn’t wanted to destroy him. He really had done a lot of good in his time, along with the bad and the questionable. But no-one’s more vulnerable than those who believe they’re better than everyone else. His whole existence had been based on a lie. He’d been betrayed, and I knew who by. I’d Seen him. I looked into the shadows at the back of the raised stage.
“All right, you can come out now. Come on out, Mr. Gaylord du Rois, Editor of the one and only Unnatural Inquirer.”
Bettie’s gasp was so shocked it came out as little more than a muffled squeak as Gaylord du Rois stepped forward into the light to stare calmly down at both of us.
“Well done, Mr. Taylor. You really are almost as good as people say you are.”
Du Rois was a tall, elderly gentleman, dressed in the very best Edwardian finery. His back was straight, his head held high, and there wasn’t a trace of weakness or frailty in him, for all his obvious age. His face was a mass of wrinkles, and his bare head was undecorated save for liver spots and a few fly-away hairs. His deep-set cold grey eyes hardly blinked at all, and his mouth was a wet slash of colourless lips. His hands were withered claws, but they still looked like they could do a lot of damage. He burned with a harsh and unforgiving energy, determined and defiant, as though he could hold back death through sheer force of will. He nodded at the spot where the Removal Man had disappeared himself.
“Damned fool. Always was inflexible. He really did think he’d been given his power by God himself, to indulge his prejudices and paranoias. I suppose learning I was his puppet master, and had been all along, was just too much to bear. Such a come-down from God. It doesn’t matter. I’d have had to replace him soon anyway. He was having delusions of independence. Still, I can always find another fool.”
“I don’t understand,” said Bettie. “You’re the Editor? You’ve always been the Editor? And…the Removal Man was your creature all along? Why?”
“Dear Bettie,” du Rois said indulgently. “Always a reporter, always asking the right questions. Yes, my dear, I am your Editor and always have been. The Inquirer is mine, and mine alone, and has been for over a hundred years. And in that time I have created many Removal Men to serve my needs. They don’t tend to last long. Such small, blinkered, black-and-white attitudes don’t tend to survive long when faced with the ever-shifting greys of the Nightside. They burn out. But there’s always someone who thinks they know better than everyone else, just itching for a chance to remake the world in their own limited image…”
“Why create them?” I said. “I don’t see why the Editor of the Unnatural Inquirer should give much of a damn about the morality of the Nightside.”
“Quite right, Mr. Taylor. I don’t give a damn. Except for when it makes good copy. Reporting and condemning the sins and shames of the Nightside has filled the pages of my paper for generations. But one lifetime wasn’t enough for me. I wanted more. There was still so much left to see, and know, and do. So I found a way. You can always find a way in the Nightside, even if some of them aren’t very nice. When one of my Removal Men removes a thing, or a person, all their potential energy, from all the things they might have done, is left up for grabs; and it all comes to me. Those energies have kept me going long after I should have left this world, and made me very powerful indeed.”
“You’re the one who shut down my gift!” I said.
“Yes,” du Rois said calmly. “It was necessary to neuter you, so you wouldn’t find Pen Donavon too quickly. I needed time for rumours about the Afterlife Recording to spread, and grow, and fascinate the minds of my readers. Bringing you in guaranteed that people would pay attention. After all, if you were involved, it must be important. By the time my Sunday edition comes out, with my giveaway DVD, people will be fighting for copies of my paper. And all because of you…”
“Sales?” I said. “This has all been about sales?”
“Of course. I don’t think you appreciate exactly how much money I stand to make out of this, Mr. Taylor.”
“Why are you here?” Bettie said suddenly. “Why reveal the truth about yourself now, to us?”
Du Rois smiled on her almost fondly. “Still asking the right questions, Bettie, like the fine reporter you are. A pity you’ll never get to write this story. Sorry, my dear, but I am here to protect my interests, and my paper’s. And your story, of the truth behind the Afterlife Recording, can never be allowed to see print. I report the news; I have no wish to be part of it.”
“You want the DVD?” I said. I took it out of my coat-pocket and threw it at him. “Have it. Damn thing’s just a fake anyway.”
He made no attempt to catch the disc, letting it fall to clatter on the stage before him. “Real or fake, it doesn’t matter. I can still sell it, thanks to your involvement. You really have been very helpful to me, Mr. Taylor, spreading the story and stirring up interest, but that’s all over now. I have my story. And since every story needs a good ending…what better way to convince everyone of the DVD’s importance than that you should be killed, acquiring it for me? Nothing like a famous corpse to add spice to a story.” He looked at Bettie. “I’m afraid you have to die, too, my dear. Can’t have anyone hanging around to contradict the story I’m going to sell people.”
“But…I’m one of your people!” said Bettie. “I work for the Inquirer!”
“I have lots of reporters. I can always get more. Now hush, dear. Your voice really is very wearing…Don’t move, Mr. Taylor. I’ve already taken the precaution of shutting down your gift again, just in case you were thinking of using it on me. And you don’t have anything else powerful enough to stop me.”
“Want to bet?” I said. And I took out of my coat-pocket the Aquarius Key. I activated the small metal box, and it opened up, unfolding and blossoming like a steel flower. A great rip appeared in reality, right in front of Gaylord du Rois. He only had time to scream once before the void swallowed him, then he was gone. I hung on grimly to Bettie as the void pulled us forward, then I shut the Aquarius Key down again, and that was that.
It was suddenly very quiet in the empty club. Bettie looked at me with huge eyes.
“I really should have handed the Key over to Walker, after that nasty business at Fun Faire,” I said. “But I had a feeling it might come in handy.”
“You’ve had that all along?” said Bettie. “Why didn’t you use it before?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t need it before.”
She hit me.
EPILOGUE
I phoned Walker and arranged to meet him at the Londinium Club. Now that I’d used the Aquarius Key, Walker was bound to know I had it. And he’d want it. I could have hung on to the Key if I’d been ready to make a big thing out of it, but I wasn’t. The Aquarius Key gave me the creeps. Some things you know are bad news for all concerned. They’re just too…tempting. So back to the Londinium Club Bettie and I went. Plenty of time yet to take the damned DVD to the offices of the
Unnatural Inquirer. Where Scoop Malloy would have to decide what to do with it, and the news that his paper no longer had an Editor.
“But how would Walker know you’ve got the Key?” said Bettie, skipping merrily along beside me. She was back in her polka-dot dress and big floppy hat look.
“Walker knows everything,” I said. “Or at least, everything he needs to know.”
“I still can’t get over my Editor being the Bad Guy in all this. I wonder who’ll replace him at the Inquirer?”
“Scoop Malloy?”
“Oh, please! I don’t think so!” Bettie pulled a disparaging face that still somehow managed to look attractive on her. “Scoop’s only Sub-Editor material, and he knows it. No; the new owner will have to bring in someone new, from outside. But you know what? I don’t care! Because for the first time in my career I have a real story to write! The truth behind Gaylord du Rois, the Removal Men, and the Afterlife Recording. Real news…which means I’m a real reporter at last! Right?”
“I don’t see why not,” I said. “The Inquirer might make you the new Editor on the strength of it.”
“Oh, poo! I’m not wasting a real story on the Inquirer!” Bettie said indignantly. “Far too good for them. No; I’m going to sell it to Julien Advent at the Night Times; in return for a job on his paper. A real reporter on a real newspaper! I’m going up in the world! Mummy will be so pleased…”
“What about your other story?” I said. “A day in the company of the infamous John Taylor?”
Bettie smiled and hooked her arm familiarly through mine. “Let someone else write it.”
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