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“Hell with that,” said Suzie, and shot him between the eyes.

The elf’s head snapped back, golden blood seeming to hang on the air for a moment before he fell backwards off my horse. Some of the blood spattered my neck and the back of my head. I quickly put my hand to my throat, but it was still intact, apart from the one slight cut. The horse stood calmly, waiting patiently to be told what to do next. I looked back into the street, where the elf lay very still with half his head missing. What was left of his face looked surprised. I looked at Suzie.

“You could have negotiated with him!”

“No, I couldn’t,” said Suzie. “I don’t do negotiation.”

“You might have missed!”

“You know me better than that.”

And, of course, I did. She didn’t ask me how I felt because she was confident in her abilities and confident that I was, too. And if I told her how upset I was, at having to be rescued, she genuinely wouldn’t have understood. But I really was mad as hell. I’d allowed myself to be shoved to one side, intimidated by King Arthur and the London Knights, and in my home-town, too. I felt a distinct need to do something, to show all of these big armoured alpha males that this was my territory, and I could do things here that all of them put together couldn’t even dream of. I’d seen too many deaths, from the Nightside to Sinister Albion and back again, and I’d had enough. I might not be a warrior knight or a legendary King, but I was still John Taylor. I concentrated and raised my gift, and it only took me a moment to find King Arthur and Kae, riding with their knights, still driving the elves before them.

This is John Taylor. Having found them, it was the easiest thing in the world to put my voice in their heads. Round up the remaining elves and return to me. There’s been enough killing. I have something more constructive in mind.

I shut down my gift and waited. Suzie steered her horse in beside mine and waited patiently with me. She always assumed I knew what I was doing, and I loved her for that. I’ve never had the heart to disillusion her. Mostly I make this shit up as I go along. I hadn’t known I could make direct mental contact with people just by finding them. But then, I’d never tried before. Never been this angry, before. King Arthur and Kae came riding back to join me. They’d left the knights behind. Presumably because they didn’t want them to see me yelling at their King. Golden blood had soaked their tabards, and more ran down their armour. They seemed well pleased with themselves. King Arthur reined his horse in before me and studied me with cool, thoughtful eyes.

“You don’t have to shout, Mr. Taylor.”

“And you do not give orders to your King,” said Kae, reining in beside Arthur. Suzie studied him coldly, both her pistols in her hands.

“You’re the King of England,” I said to Arthur. “But this is the Nightside; and we do things differently here. I brought you here to put an end to the slaughter, not start one of your own. These elves are broken; there’s no excuse to hunt them through the streets like vermin.”

“They’re elves,” said Kae.

“And we are supposed to be saving them,” said Arthur. “My knights are now containing them, as you suggested, Mr. Taylor. You are right. I’d forgotten how much the joy of battle can take a man over. But what are we to do with these captured elves, Mr. Taylor?”

“Kill them all,” said Kae. “Send a message to whoever sent them.”

“Hush, Kae,” said Arthur. “Mr. Taylor?”

“Watch,” I said. “And learn.”

I raised my gift again, and it rose blazing to the surface immediately, driven by the anger that still burned in me. My inner eye opened wide, travelling across all Space and Time in a moment, and I found Queen Mab in her Unseelie Court, in the Sundered Lands. In the Nightside, everywhere is as close as anywhere else; but even so, I was quietly impressed with myself that I’d been able to find and reach her so easily. Maybe I should get mad more often. I looked upon Queen Mab, sitting on her Ivory Throne, and used my gift to find a connection between the Nightside and the Sundered Lands.

A great opening appeared, hanging in mid air, and shimmering light from the elven Court spilled out into the night. I could see right into Caer Dhu, the last great Castle of Faerie, taken with them when the elves walked sideways from the sun and left the Earth behind. Queen Mab sat bolt upright on her Throne, set on a raised dais before a massive Court full of elves. She looked out at me, through the opening I’d made, surprise and outrage in her unearthly pale face.

Queen Mab was greater in size and scale than any other elf. Ten feet tall, supernaturally slender, and glamorous, naked save for blue-daubed sigils glowing fiercely on her pearlescent skin. She was beautiful beyond bearing, terrible beyond any hope of mercy, alien, inhuman. Her ears were pointed, her eyes were pure gold without a trace of pupil, and her mouth was a deep crimson; the red of heart’s blood, red as sin itself. Queen Mab was a first-generation elf, impossibly ancient and magnificent, and it showed.

She leaned forward on her Ivory Throne to fix me with her unblinking gaze. “What poor damned mortal dares disturb me in my Court?”

“That would be me,” I said cheerfully. “John Taylor of the Nightside, not in any way at your service. Ah, I see you’ve heard of me. That saves time. And here with me is the returned King Arthur, of Camelot. He calls you to parley with Oberon and Titania, that we might avert the coming civil war between the elves, and to discuss something more ... interesting.”

Queen Mab looked past me at Arthur. He nodded courteously to her, and she actually bowed her head to him.

“Arthur,” she said. “It has been a while, has it not? You haven’t changed.”

“Neither have you,” Arthur said gallantly.

Mab made no comment, still studying Arthur’s face. “So, it seems I am not the only one to return to trouble this world again. If things had gone differently, if we had wed, what a world we might have fashioned together. But there was Tam, my lovely Tam, and nothing was ever the same again, after that.”

She turned abruptly to face me, fixing me with her intense golden stare. “If any other mortal had insulted me in this way, John Taylor, I would have ripped the meat from his bones with my own bare hands for such effrontery. But you have brought me a face I never thought to see again. That buys you some time. I am ... intrigued. Arthur’s presence changes everything. Yes, I will parley.”

“You sent the elves into the Nightside, didn’t you?” I said.

“Youngbloods,” said Queen Mab. “They wanted so much to prove themselves in battle, and who was I to deny youth its chance?”

“Most of them are dead now,” said Kae. “The London Knights hold the survivors captive. Their continued survival depends upon your good behaviour.”

“Kill them all,” said Mab. “Let them all die, for failing me. I am Mab; and I will do what I will do.”

I decided to press on, while she was still in what passed for a good mood. I raised my gift again and sent it searching; and this time I found King Oberon and Queen Titania in their Unseelie Court, in Shadows Fall. I found another connection and opened up another gateway; and more light fell into the Nightside as I connected one hidden place with another.

Oberon and Titania sat side by side on two great Thrones made of bones. Strange shapes and sigils and glyphs had been cut deep into the hundreds of interlinked bones that made up the two Thrones, detail upon detail, in a design complex beyond hope of human understanding. Oberon was easily ten feet tall and bulging thickly with muscles, wrapped in a long blood-red cloak to better show off his milk-white skin. His hair was a colourless blond, hanging loosely down around a long, angular face dominated by piercing blue eyes. He looked effortlessly noble, regal, and perversely intelligent. Oberon had come to his Throne through intrigue and violence, and it showed.