"Quite right, Mrs. Cavendish. Still, they all look de­cidedly weakened by whatever unnatural thing it was they just did, so I think it's back to the old reliable bul­let in the head. Lots of them, this time."

"Exactly, Mr. Cavendish. If we can't have Rossignol, no-one can."

They aimed their reloaded guns at her. I moved to put myself between her and the guns, but that was all I could do. My time in the dark had taken everything else out of me, for the moment. I looked at Dead Boy, who shrugged.

"Sorry, I'm running on empty, too. Rossignol, any chance of a song?"

"Darling, right now I couldn't even squeak out a note. There must be something we can do!"

"Oh, shut up and die," said Mrs. Cavendish.

The two of them approached us, guns extended, tak­ing their time, enjoying seeing their enemies helpless before them. They were going to shoot us all, and I had no magics left to stop them. But I've never relied on magic to get me through the many and varied dangers of the Nightside. I've always found using my wits and being downright sneaky much more reliable. So I waited till the Cavendishes were right in front of me, then I dug a good handful of pepper out of my hidden stash and threw it right into their smug, smiling faces They both screamed pitifully as the pepper ground into their eyes, and I slapped the guns out of their flailing hands and gave the two of them a good smack round the back of the head, just on general principles. Dead Boy kicked their feet out from under them, and they ended up sitting on the stage, huddled together and clawing frantically at their streaming eyes.

"Condiments," I said easily. "Never leave home without them. And once the Authorities get here, I'll rub salt into your wounds as well."

At which point, an unconscious combat magician came flying onto the stage from the wings, upside down and bleeding heavily. He'd barely hit the stage with a resounding thud before two more combat magi­cians were backing quickly onto the stage, retreating from an unseen foe. Zen magics spat and shimmered on the air before them, as their rapidly moving hands wove cat's cradles of defensive magics. But Julien Advent, the great Victorian Adventurer himself, was more than a match for them. He bounded onstage with mar­velous energy, dodging the thrown spells with prac­ticed skill, and proceeded to run rings around the bewildered combat magicians with breathtaking acro­batics and vicious fisticuffs. He moved almost too quickly to be seen, impossibly graceful, smiling all the time, smiting down the ungodly with magnificent ease.

Being an editor for thirty years didn't seem to have slowed him down at all.

He finally stood over three unconscious combat ma­gicians, not even breathing hard, the bastard. Dead Boy and Ross and I applauded him because, you had to, re­ally. Julien Advent actually was all the things they said he was. He shot me a quick grin as he took in the de­feated Cavendishes.

"I see the cavalry probably wasn't needed after all. Good work, John. We were afraid we might be a little overdue."

I'd only just started to process the word we and get the beginnings of a really bad feeling, when Walker strolled on from the wings, and all I could think was Oh shit. I'm really in trouble now.

Walker strode over to consider the weeping, red-eyed Cavendishes, his face as always completely calm and utterly unreadable. Walker, in his neat city suit and bowler hat, representative of the Authorities, and quite possibly the most dangerous man in the Nightside. He had been given power over everyone and everything in the Nightside, and if you were wise, you didn't ask by whom. I would have run like hell, if I'd had any strength left.

The Cavendishes became aware of Julien's pres­ence. They forced themselves up onto their feet and faced him defiantly. He studied their faces for a long moment, his smile gone, his eyes cold.

"I've always known who you were," he said fi­nally. "The infamous Murder Masques, still villains, still unpunished. But I could never prove it, until now." He looked at me. "I knew if anyone could bring them down, it would be you, John. If only because you were too dumb to know it was impossible. So after you came to me, I contacted Walker, and we've been following you ever since. At a discreet distance, of course. We even stood in the wings and listened as the Cavendishes incriminated themselves with their gloating. It was all so very interesting I almost didn't hear the combat magicians until it was too late. I should have known the Cavendishes would bring backup."

"I speak for the Authorities," Walker said to the Cavendishes. "And I say you're history."

"It all began with them," said Julien. "They Timeslipped me because they wanted to seize my transformational potion, as their first big business venture. Typical, really. They couldn't just earn their money. They had to cheat. Little good it did them, because it was only after I was gone, slammed eighty years into the future in a moment, that they discovered there was no formula anywhere among my notes. I'd kept all the details in my head."

He stopped then and looked directly at Mrs. Cavendish. She stood a little straighter, still knuckling tears from one eye. The legendary Victorian Adven­turer and his legendary lost love, the betrayed and the betrayer, face to face for the first time in over a century.

"Irene..."

"Julien."

"You haven't changed at all."

"Oh, don't look at me. I look awful."

"I've always known it was you. Hidden behind your new names and identities."

"Then why did you never come for me?"

"Because even the greatest love will die, if you stick a sharp enough knife through its heart. I knew it was you, but I couldn't prove it. You and your husband were very well protected. And in the end, I just didn't care any more. It was all such a long time ago, and I never did believe in living in the past."

She gaped at him, almost horrified. "All those years we spent waiting for you to come after us. Spinning webs and layers of protections around us, always hid­ing ... all those years of being afraid of you, and you didn't give a damn."

"I had a new life to build, Irene. And there were far worse things than you in the Nightside that needed fighting.".

She looked away. "I thought, sometimes, that you might have held back . . . because of me."

"My love died a long time ago. I don't know you now, Irene."

"You never, did, Julien."

Mr. Cavendish moved in possessively beside his wife. "Enough talk! We all know why you're here! Have your precious revenge and be done with it! Kill us, for everything we did to you!"

"You never did understand me," said Julien. He looked at Walker. "Take them away. Destroy their business, dismantle it, and you destroy their power. Bring them to trial and send them down. Make them into lit­tle people, like all the ones they hurt. What better pun­ishment, for such as these?"

"I'd be delighted," said Walker, tipping his bowler hat to Julien. "My people are already on their way."

Julien gave Walker a hard, thoughtful look. "These two probably know all sorts of top people and secrets. Don't let them wriggle out."

"Not going to happen," Walker said easily. "I've been looking for an excuse to bring the Cavendishes down. Troublemakers, always rocking the boat, never playing well with others. They might even have become a threat to the Authorities, in time. And we can't have that, can we?"

He turned unhurriedly to look at me, and I braced myself. "Well, John," said Walker. "You've led me quite a chase. Who's been a bad boy, then? But... not to worry. Helping me put away two big fish like these goes a long way to making up for all the trouble you've caused the Nightside tonight. Only just, mind . . ."

Julien looked at me sharply, suddenly scenting a story. "John, what is he talking about?"