The Good,the Bad and the Uncanny

Alex and I go way back. We're friends, sort of. It's complicated.

I pushed the wormwood brandy determinedly to one side. "What else have you got, Alex?"

"A fast-receding hair-line, lower-back pains, and you really don't want to hear about my bowel movements."

"I shall slap you in a moment, and it will hurt. I meant, do you have anything more interesting in the booze department that you might feel like recommending? I'm in the mood for something… different."

"Well, you could try the Valhalla Venom," said Alex. "I got a job lot, cheap, because no-one in the Adventurers Club felt brave enough to try it. So far, everyone here has wimped out, too. I have a feeling it's something to do with the way the bottles sweat blood."

"Pour me a glass," I said. "A big glass, with a lead-lined straw."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "You're in one of your moods again, aren't you? Just sign this release form naming your next of kin while I open the bottle with my special long-handled tongs."

The drink, when it arrived, turned out to be a pale amber liqueur. It didn't seethe or try to eat its way through the glass, so I took a good sip. The liqueur rolled languidly across my tongue, and then hit me between the eyes with a half brick and mugged my taste-buds. It was like drinking a whole summer orchard at once. But after my trip to the Dragon's Mouth this was strictly amateur hour. I took another good sip, and Alex smiled triumphantly out across the crowded bar.

"Look! He's actually drinking it! Pay your bets!"

"It's good," I said. "Vicious, but good. Why not try a glass with me?"

"Because I've got more sense." Alex leaned forward com panionably across the polished bar. "It's coming to something when the most exciting thing in this bar is betting whether or not a new drink will make your head explode. It's been really quiet here lately, and you know how dangerous that can be. There's always something, of course… minor things, like snakes getting into the Real Ale barrels and improving the flavour… And there's no rats in the traps, which mean something's eating them again…"

"How are you and Cathy getting on?" I said casually. "You know, my teenage secretary who is barely half your age, of whom I am inordinately protective?"

"Surprisingly well," said Alex. "I keep waiting for the other thunderbolt to drop. I have a horrid suspicion I might actually be happy when she's around, and I'm not used to happy."

"She is a lot younger than you."

"I know! Half the bands I like had split up before she was even born! And she's never even heard of half the old television shows I watch on DVD. And she will insist on trying to cheer me up."

I had to smile. "I could have told her that was a lost cause."

"I don't know," said Alex. "There's this thing she does in bed…"

"Change the subject right now," I said.

"All right. Have you seen the state of Agatha?" Alex gestured bitterly at his pet vulture, currently perched on top of the old-fashioned cash register, giving everyone the evil eye. "Look at the little slut. Twenty months pregnant, which is going it some for a vulture. God alone knows what she had sex with, or what she'll eventually produce. There's a pool going, if you want to lay some money down…"

And then he broke off and stared out across the bar, his jaw actually dropping. I turned to look, and winced. There are some people who, when they walk into a room, you know there's going to be trouble. Alex's ex-wife came striding through the packed bar with her usual intimidating attitude of complete self-confidence, not in the least bothered that she'd just entered the kind of place where most angels have more sense than to tread. She was tall, lean, and wore her power business outfit like a suit of armour. She had a hard-boned face that expert, understated make-up entirely failed to soften, under close-cropped platinum blonde hair. People got out of her way without even realising why they were doing it because she so clearly expected it of them. She slammed to a halt at the bar beside me, gave me a quick look over, and sniffed loudly.

"Hello, John. Been a while. You're looking very yourself. But then, you never did have much ambition."

"Hello, Agatha," I said. "Not often you choose to grace us with your presence. What brings you to this low dive, all the way from the great counting-houses of the business sector? Did they give you time off for good behaviour?"

"That'll be the day," she said. "So, still playing at being a private detective?"

"And very successfully," I said. "How about you? Still playing at being a human being?"

She gave me a cold, unblinking glare. "You always did take his side."

"Hey," I said, "I have to drink here. How's your boy toy accountant?"

"Rodney is fine. Doing very well. Up for junior partner, actually. And he's only three years younger than me. How's your psycho gun-nut girl-friend?"

"Fine," I said. "I'll tell Suzie you asked after her."

Agatha's cold, superior smile disappeared, and she turned abruptly away to give her full attention to Alex.

"Hello, Alex. Still determinedly down-market, I see. And still wearing black."

"Only until someone comes up with a darker colour," he said. "What are you doing here, Agatha? I didn't think you liked people from your new life knowing where you came from."

"Into every life a little slumming must fall," said Agatha. "I've brought you your monthly blood money."

She took an envelope from an i

"Do I need to count it?"

"It's a cheque, Alex. No-one uses cash any more."

"I do. Credit has no place in a bar. Why deliver the alimony in person, Agatha? You've always sent a messenger before."

"Because I heard about you and your latest," said Agatha, smiling sweetly. "A teenager, Alex? You always did like them young and impressionable."

"At least I like them alive!" snapped Alex.

My head came up sharply at that, but neither of them had time for me now. They were glaring at each other so fiercely they were all but incinerating the air between them.

Agatha gave Alex her best superior smile. "Do I really need to remind you of the terms of our agreement? If you choose to marry again, you're on your own, Alex. No more money."

"Typical of you, to think of that first," said Alex. "And you've got a hell of a nerve, criticising me on my choice of lover. You cheated on me with Merlin!"

"Hold everything," I said. I knew better than to get involved, but this was too good to miss. "You had sex with Merlin, Agatha? Our very own dead but not departed enough sorcerer, Merlin Satanspawn? The one who used to be buried under this bar? That is so tacky…"

"You didn't know him like I did," said Agatha. "He was so much more mature than Alex."

"Only in the sense that cheese gets mature if you leave it lying around long enough," said Alex. "The back-stabbing bastard! He possessed my body so he could have sex with you! It took me ages to figure out why I kept waking up in odd places. You cheated on me using my own body!"

"And he was so much better in bed than you," said Agatha.

Women always fight dirty.

Alex started to reach for one of the many unpleasant weapons he kept behind the bar, then stopped himself. "Get out of my bar, Agatha. My life is none of your business any more."

"I'll go where I please! I still have a lot to say to you…"

"No, you don't. Leave. Or I'll show you one of the nastier magic tricks I inherited from Merlin Satanspawn."

Agatha hesitated, then sniffed loudly, turned on her heel, and stalked out of the bar. I looked thoughtfully at Alex. He might have been bluffing, or he might not. Alex looked at me.

"I might have known she'd turn up, after you mentioned meeting her sister Augusta Moon at the Adventurers Club."