The Unnatural Inquirer

“Trevor!” she said. “I thought it was you, sweetie! Didn’t recognise you at first, all tricked out in the Village People outfit. You never told me you were a combat sorcerer.”

The other cowboys looked at their leader, and I could practically see them mouthing the word Trevor? at each other. The leader glared at Bettie.

“That is my old name,” he said harshly. “I don’t use it any more. My name is Ace now, Bettie, leader of Clan Buckaroo. I haven’t gone by…that other name in ages.”

“You were Trevor when I knew you,” Bettie said briskly. “I did wonder why you insisted on wearing those black boots and spurs to bed, but I thought you were being kinky. Even though you went all bashful when I got out the fluffy handcuffs. What are you doing here, sweetie, dressed up as Black Bart and leading this bunch of overdressed thugs?”

“The money’s good,” said Ace.

“It would have to be,” said Bettie.

“Don’t get in the way,” said Ace, giving her his best fierce glare. “We’re here to do a job, and we’re going to do it. I can’t cut you any slack just because we used to be an item.”

“You and he were an item?” I said to Bettie.

She shrugged. “He didn’t last long.”

There was some quiet sniggering from the other combat sorcerers that died quickly away as Ace glared around him.

“What exactly are you here for?” I said. “Maybe there’s room for negotiation.”

“We want Donavon, and we want the Afterlife Recording,” said Ace, fixing me with his cold stare again. “No negotiations, no discussion. We work for Kid Cthulhu, and he wants sole ownership of the Recording.”

“Now wait just a minute!” Bettie strode forward to glare right into Ace’s face, and he was so startled he actually fell back a pace. “The U

“Not any more you don’t,” said Ace. “Possession is everything, in the Nightside.”

“Kid Cthulhu…” Alex said thoughtfully. “Thought I’d heard something about his having cash liquidity problems with his undersea-farming interests. And, of course, the bottom’s dropped right out of the calamari market. He must be thinking he can make enough money out of the Afterlife Recording to bail him out. So to speak.”

“You can’t have the Afterlife Recording!” Bettie said firmly to Ace. “We got there first.”

Ace looked at the cowboy next to him. “If she speaks again, kill her.”

Bettie’s mouth opened wide, outraged, and I clapped a hand across it and hauled her back. Ace didn’t look like he was kidding to me. Thirteen combat sorcerers in one room can do pretty much whatever they feel like doing. But, on the other hand, I had a reputation to maintain…So I looked Alex in the eye and gave him my best disapproving stare.

“Now that was just plain rude,” I said. “And if you threaten to kill me…I will smite the lot of you. Right here and now.”

There was a pause, and the thirteen combat sorcerers looked at me uncertainly. With anyone else, they’d have dismissed it immediately as just talk. But I was John Taylor…

“Bettie Divine is under my protection,” I said. “Along with everyone else in this bar. Very definitely including Pen Donavon. So you can all get your redneck wa

The combat sorcerers looked at each other, and then at their leader. Their magical guns or fingers were all pointing at the floor. And then Ace smiled at me and laughed softly, and just like that the mood was broken.

“Never make a threat you can’t back up,” he said.

Ace pointed his conceptual gun at the drunk sorcerer, still out cold despite all the drama going on around him. A tired old man, who might or might not have done a terrible thing in his younger days. Ace shot him three times, his pointed finger unwavering even as the invisible bullets punched large bloody holes in the sleeping man. Thallassa’s body jumped and jerked under the impact of the bullets, but he never made a sound. He just lay where he was, slumped across his table, as the blood ran out of him. Murdered, for no reason he would ever know. Ace laughed briefly and turned back to me.

“Boys,” he said, “kill everyone in this place except for Pen Donavon.” He smiled at Bettie. “Sorry, sweetie. Just business. You know how it is.”

“You little shit,” Bettie said defiantly. “And I do mean little, Trevor. I’ve had more fun with a toothpick.”

Women always fight dirty.

Ace pointed his finger at her. “Shut up and die, will you?”

“Not in my bar,” said Alex. He produced a pump-action shotgun from under the bar, and when Ace turned to look, Alex shot him in the face. Ace was thrown backwards, blasted right off his feet, crashing into the cowboys behind him, who made shocked, startled noises. Alex worked the pump action, and all the combat sorcerers stood very still.

“Wow,” I said. “Hard core, Alex.”

He shrugged modestly. “Suzie left this behind, one night. Always thought it would come in handy one day. I loaded it with silver bullets, dipped in holy water, and blessed by a wandering god. I could shoot the head off a golem with this. And if golems had other things, I could shoot them off, too.”

“You know,” said Bettie, “I think I’d be rather more impressed if Trevor wasn’t getting up again.”

We looked round. Ace was already back on his feet, apparently entirely unaffected. Apart from the really pissed-off look on his face.

“Oh, shit,” said Alex, putting down the shotgun. “Guys, you’re on your own. If you want me, I’ll be hiding behind the bar, whimpering and wetting myself.”

“Really?” said Bettie, not bothering to hide her disappointment in him.

“Hell no,” said Alex. “This is my bar! It’s bad enough that the whole world conspires against me, messes with my beer and puts my vulture up the duff, without having a bunch of refugees from an S&M march walking in here like they own the place. And Thallassa hadn’t even paid for his drinks yet, you bastards! You owe me money!” He vaulted over the bar, holding a glowing cricket bat. “Merlin made this for me, sometime back. For when you really, absolutely have to take out the trash.”

“Alex,” I said. “This isn’t like you. It’s an improvement, but it isn’t like you.”

“My new girl-friend’s upstairs,” said Alex. “Probably watching on the monitors. You know how it is when you’ve got a new girl. You end up doing all kinds of stupid things.”

“Yes,” I said. “I know how it is.”

“Is that it?” said Ace, smiling. “A glow-in-the-dark cricket bat?”

“No,” said Alex. “Oh, girls!”

And Alex’s two large, muscular, body-building bouncers, Betty and Lucy Coltrane, came charging in from the back of the bar and threw themselves at the startled combat sorcerers. They ploughed right into the group before the cowboys even had time to react, knocking them arse over tit and kicking them while they were down, in the fine old tradition of bouncers everywhere. Alex hit the group a moment later, swinging his cricket bat with both hands as though it were a long sword. He smashed faces and broke bones, and the cowboys fell back, crying out in shock and distress. None of them had prepared for an irate bartender armed with a weapon enchanted by Merlin Satanspawn. The glowing cricket bat smashed through their magical defences like they weren’t even there. Tougher magical shields flared up here and there, as some of the combat sorcerers got their act together enough to ward off the Coltranes, but the girls just dodged around the shields to get at those cowboys who weren’t protected. Shrill cries of pain and anguish filled the air.

I said Ace’s name, and when he turned to look at me I threw a handful of pepper into his face. An attack so basic and physical his magical shields couldn’t do a thing to prevent it. He howled piteously, scrabbling at his tearing eyes with both hands. I kicked him in the nuts, and he folded up and fell to the floor. Top-rank combat sorcerer, my arse. Try having assassins at your throat and at your back ever since you were a small child and see what that does to your survival skills.