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“I am the wrath of God,” the Walking Man said finally.
“No,” said Chandra. “You’re only another monster.”
He drew his sword with inhuman speed, and thrust the blade straight for the Walking Man’s heart. It all happened in the space of a single breath, all of Chandra’s strength and speed compressed into a single deadly strike, pla
“Nice try. But you’re only a khalsa, a holy warrior, whereas I am so much more. I made a deal with God Himself.” He looked at me for the first time. “Always get it in writing, eh, John?”
“You’ll have to kill me to get to Eddie,” said Chandra.
“Kill you, Chandra?” said the Walking Man. “I’m not here to kill men like you. You’re a good man. Unfortunately for you, and everyone else here, I’ve gone far beyond that.” He looked at me again. “Are you going to try and stop me, John Taylor?”
“You really think you’re ready to throw down with me?” I said. “I may not be holy, but I’m sneaky as hell. I move in really mysterious ways, and I guarantee you’ll never see it coming.”
I met his gaze easily, holding my breath . . . and he shrugged abruptly and turned away from Chandra and Eddie.
“I’m wasting my time here,” he said. “I’ve allowed myself to become distracted. I came to this godforsaken place to kill your precious new upstart Authorities before they can organise the Nightside into a real threat to the outside world. I can always come back here, after I’ve killed them. So, stop me if you can, John.”
He turned his back and strolled away. I let him go. I was thinking furiously. He hadn’t realised I was bluffing. And that...was interesting. Chandra Singh knelt beside the unconscious Razor Eddie, hugging his broken sword to his chest. He was crying.
EIGHT
There Is Always a Price to Be Paid
The crowd was already dispersing. Money was reluctantly changing hands, as many bets were settled. I was frankly amazed that anyone had been ready to bet on Chandra Singh and me against the legendary Walking Man. But then, the Nightside has always had a weakness for the long odds. Chandra was still on his knees, still hugging what was left of his broken sword to his chest, still sobbing quietly. And I stood there and did some hard thinking.
I’d seen the Walking Man in action, seen how implacable and relentless he could be. I’d tried reasoning with him. I hadn’t expected that to work, but I had to try. And I’d stood back and let Chandra have his run at it, just in case one man of faith could bring down another. Now it was up to me to take the detestable, necessary, and maybe even evil step that was all that was left.
When all else fails, you can always damn yourself with a necessary evil, for the greater good.
Meanwhile, all around us the shot-up, blasted, and downright-ruined churches and temples were already starting to rebuild themselves. Cracked stonework came together again, splintered marble smoothed itself over, and vast edifices rose unmarked from their own graves, given shape and substance again by the unrelenting faith of their congregations. Those faithful whose certainties had taken a severe kicking from seeing the Walking Man in action were already looking for Something new to follow, leaving their smashed-up churches to rot in the rubble. And people passing on the Street only paused to spit on the remains of the Temple of the Unspeakable Abomination. Some of the more up-and-coming Beings were already squaring off to see who would take over the more valuable positions on the Street. There’d be lightning strikes and plagues of boils and general massed smiting going on soon, and I pla
Razor Eddie sat up suddenly. His eyes snapped back into focus as his injured face repaired itself, then he shook himself sharply, like a dog emerging from a cold river. Chandra Singh, to his credit, immediately put aside his grief and his bruised pride and helped Eddie to his feet. Which made him a braver man than I. I wouldn’t have touched Razor Eddie’s filth-encrusted coat for all the gold in Walker’s teeth. Razor Eddie nodded brusquely to Chandra and raised his right hand. His straight razor was immediately there again, shining as brightly and as wickedly as ever. The Punk God and his straight razor were never separated for long. I don’t think they can be any more. They belong to each other.
“Well,” said Razor Eddie, in his grey and ghostly voice. “That was . . . unexpected. It’s been a long time since anyone was able to put me down so thoroughly. It would appear the Walking Man actually is the real deal, after all. Which is kind of scary, if you think about it. So I don’t think I will.” He smiled slowly, showing rotten yellow teeth. “I suppose it is possible I’ve been getting a little cocky, of late. The occasional humbling can be good for the soul. Though you mustn’t overdo it, of course.”
I took advantage of Razor Eddie’s unexpected chattiness to recover the broken half of Chandra’s sword and offer it to him. The metal wasn’t glowing any more. It looked like just another broken sword. Chandra nodded his thanks and accepted the blade as though I were handing him the body of his dead child. I felt like slapping him. It’s always a mistake to get too attached to things. Chandra carefully slid both halves of the broken sword back into the scabbard at his side.
“It ca
“You had the right idea,” I said, touched despite myself. “But the wrong weapon.” I turned to Razor Eddie. “To stop a man of God you need a weapon of God. One particular and very nasty weapon.”
Eddie looked at me thoughtfully. “You want a weapon, John? I thought you were above such things.”
“You know what weapon I’m talking about,” I said.
He nodded slowly, reluctantly. “No good will come of this, John.”
“I need the Speaking Gun,” I said, and the Punk God of the Straight Razor shuddered briefly.
“Nasty thing,” he said. “I thought you destroyed it.”
“I did,” I said. “But as with so many other awful things in the Nightside, it’s only ever one step away from a comeback. Any idea where I might find it?”
“You know I know where it is,” said Razor Eddie. “How is it you always know things like that?”
“Because it’s my job,” I said. “Now stop stalling.”
“You’ll find it at the Gun Shop,” said Razor Eddie. “At the place where all weapons are worshipped.”
“Is that where you got your straight razor?” said Chandra.
Razor Eddie looked down at the steel blade shining so brightly in his hand and smiled briefly. “Oh no,” he said. “I went to a far worse place for this.”
“Then the Gun Shop it is,” I said, trying hard to sound like I knew what I was doing.
“Wait,” said Chandra, moving forward to stare me in the eye. “You think you can stop the Walking Man, John Taylor? After I failed so miserably? After seeing him throw down all these false temples and churches? After he beat down the Punk God of the Straight Razor and shot the Unspeakable Abomination in the head? After he broke my blessed sword, a thing not achieved in centuries of trials against evil? What makes a man like you believe he can defeat the Walking Man?”