Can’t be a coincidence.”
“Coincidences are the universe’s way of arranging things neatly,” said Hadleigh.
“Are you immortal?” I said bluntly.
“Bit early to tell yet,” said Hadleigh. “Whatever this thing is, it had better get a move on. I can’t stop long; I’ve been called in to consult on a case with the London Knights. They actually requested my presence, which is unusual enough that I’ve agreed to go out into London Proper to give them a helping hand.” He fixed me with a cool, considering look. “You know the London Knights. Is it true that King Arthur has returned to them?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Is he everything the legends say?”
“That and more.”
“Interesting,” said Hadleigh. “I wonder what he wants with me . . . But consider this; if Arthur Pendragon is back, can Merlin Satanspawn be far behind?”
“Oh God, I hope not,” I said.
“Leave Her out of this,” Hadleigh said firmly. I can never tell when he’s joking.
“You’re Hadleigh Oblivion, aren’t you?” said Charlotte ap Owen excitedly, waving for her camera-man to catch up with her.
Hadleigh smiled, produced a pale blue rose from out of nowhere, and held it up before Charlotte. He then brought the rose up to his mouth and inhaled steadily. The colour faded out of the petals, and we all watched speechlessly as Hadleigh breathed in the life essence of the flower. One by one, the colourless petals cracked and fell apart, falling in grey sprinkles to the floor. Hadleigh smiled and let the dead stem fall from his hand.
“That’s nothing,” said Dead Boy, passing by. “You should see what I can do with a fart.”
Hadleigh smiled easily at Charlotte, who looked like she wanted to be sick. She backed away into the crowd, taking Dave the camera-man with her. I gave Hadleigh a hard look.
“Studying at the Deep School ruined you.”
“No, it didn’t.”
“Well, something did.”
I went back to mingling. I listened in on a great many conversations because the immortals were too proud to stop talking even though I was there, but I didn’t learn anything important. Most of it was about who was having whom, and what someone else would do when they found out. Typical party chatter. No-one even mentioned the immortality serum I was supposed to be looking for. Short of grabbing people by their lapels and slamming them up against a wall, I didn’t see how I was going to persuade anyone to talk about it. And I don’t do things like that. Not any more.
I bumped into the Lord Orlando, fresh from changing sex again. He’d come dressed in a chequered black-and-white Harlequin outfit, complete with a cute little domino mask and heavy stubble showing through his white face make-up. He was still boring for England, talking loudly and relentlessly at anyone who’d stand still long enough, and name-dropping all the famous people he claimed to have slept with, in one sex or another, down the ages. And still going on about how traumatised he was, from being kidnapped and briefly replaced by the Charnel Chimera, a few years back. I got the impression he was mostly upset that no-one could tell the difference between the bloodthirsty monster and the real thing. I could have said many things there, but didn’t. I must be mellowing.
I pointed him in Bettie Divine’s direction, thus annoying two birds with one stone, and headed towards a couple of people I was actually looking forward to meeting; the Bride, and her current paramour, the latest incarnation of Springheel Jack. The Bride towered over both of us, a good seven feet tall and well fleshed. The Baron Frankenstein had made all his early creations oversized, so he had enough room to fit all the bits in. The Bride’s face was pale and taut, as though stretched by too much plastic surgery, but she’d always looked that way. The Baron might be a creative genius when it came to Life and Death, but his sewing skills left a lot to be desired.
The Bride had huge
“Coincidences are the universe’s way of arranging things neatly,” said Hadleigh.
“Are you immortal?” I said bluntly.
“Bit early to tell yet,” said Hadleigh. “Whatever this thing is, it had better get a move on. I can’t stop long; I’ve been called in to consult on a case with the London Knights. They actually requested my presence, which is unusual enough that I’ve agreed to go out into London Proper to give them a helping hand.” He fixed me with a cool, considering look. “You know the London Knights. Is it true that King Arthur has returned to them?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Is he everything the legends say?”
“That and more.”
“Interesting,” said Hadleigh. “I wonder what he wants with me . . . But consider this; if Arthur Pendragon is back, can Merlin Satanspawn be far behind?”
“Oh God, I hope not,” I said.
“Leave Her out of this,” Hadleigh said firmly. I can never tell when he’s joking.
“You’re Hadleigh Oblivion, aren’t you?” said Charlotte ap Owen excitedly, waving for her camera-man to catch up with her.
Hadleigh smiled, produced a pale blue rose from out of nowhere, and held it up before Charlotte. He then brought the rose up to his mouth and inhaled steadily. The colour faded out of the petals, and we all watched speechlessly as Hadleigh breathed in the life essence of the flower. One by one, the colourless petals cracked and fell apart, falling in grey sprinkles to the floor. Hadleigh smiled and let the dead stem fall from his hand.
“That’s nothing,” said Dead Boy, passing by. “You should see what I can do with a fart.”
Hadleigh smiled easily at Charlotte, who looked like she wanted to be sick. She backed away into the crowd, taking Dave the camera-man with her. I gave Hadleigh a hard look.
“Studying at the Deep School ruined you.”
“No, it didn’t.”
“Well, something did.”
I went back to mingling. I listened in on a great many conversations because the immortals were too proud to stop talking even though I was there, but I didn’t learn anything important. Most of it was about who was having whom, and what someone else would do when they found out. Typical party chatter. No-one even mentioned the immortality serum I was supposed to be looking for. Short of grabbing people by their lapels and slamming them up against a wall, I didn’t see how I was going to persuade anyone to talk about it. And I don’t do things like that. Not any more.
I bumped into the Lord Orlando, fresh from changing sex again. He’d come dressed in a chequered black-and-white Harlequin outfit, complete with a cute little domino mask and heavy stubble showing through his white face make-up. He was still boring for England, talking loudly and relentlessly at anyone who’d stand still long enough, and name-dropping all the famous people he claimed to have slept with, in one sex or another, down the ages. And still going on about how traumatised he was, from being kidnapped and briefly replaced by the Charnel Chimera, a few years back. I got the impression he was mostly upset that no-one could tell the difference between the bloodthirsty monster and the real thing. I could have said many things there, but didn’t. I must be mellowing.
I pointed him in Bettie Divine’s direction, thus annoying two birds with one stone, and headed towards a couple of people I was actually looking forward to meeting; the Bride, and her current paramour, the latest incarnation of Springheel Jack. The Bride towered over both of us, a good seven feet tall and well fleshed. The Baron Frankenstein had made all his early creations oversized, so he had enough room to fit all the bits in. The Bride’s face was pale and taut, as though stretched by too much plastic surgery, but she’d always looked that way. The Baron might be a creative genius when it came to Life and Death, but his sewing skills left a lot to be desired.
The Bride had huge
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