Nightside 09 - Just Another Judgement Day

straight lines, to get to where I have to be, to do what I have to do. To carry out God’s will in this sinful world.”
    “This isn’t His will,” I said, from the safety of the back of the crowd. “This is your will.”
    “Ah, hello, John,” he said happily, and actually waved at me. “I was wondering what had happened to you. But you’re quite wrong, you know. When I take my aspect upon me, His will and my will are one and the same. To protect the innocent, by punishing the guilty.”
    “You’d really kill us?” said Janissary Jane, her voice cold and measured. “All these good people?”
    “If they’re standing against me,” said the Walking Man, his voice the very epitome of reason and patience, “then they’re standing against God’s will. Which means, by definition, they’re no longer good people. It’s really up to all of you what happens next. I’m not here for you. I want the Authorities.”
    “Well you can’t have them!” snapped Augusta. “Never heard such arrogance in all my life! Now get out of here or I’ll stick this staff in one end and out the other!”
    The Walking Man sighed. “There’s always one . . .”
    Augusta Moon roared with rage and lashed out at him with her staff, her tweeds flying bravely as she launched herself at him. But the staff that had struck down so many monsters in its time slammed to a halt a few inches short of the Walking Man’s head, then snapped in two as it finally met an immovable force. Augusta cried out in shock and pain as the unexpected impact tore her half of the staff right out of her hands, and she watched in horror as the two pieces fell to the floor. The Walking Man looked at her sadly, then struck her down with a single blow. And since Augusta was really just a middle-aged woman, she hit the floor hard and lay there groaning.
    Janissary Jane drew two automatic pistols out of nowhere and opened fire on the Walking Man. Veteran of a hundred demon wars, her guns were always loaded with blessed and cursed ammunition, but still none of them could find their target. Janissary Jane might be prepared, but the Walking Man was protected. She fired and fired, until both guns were empty, and the Walking Man stood there and let her do it. In the end, Jane looked down at her empty guns, put them away, and knelt to comfort Augusta.
    Next up was Zhang the Mystic, Asian master of the unknown arts. A hero and a sorcerer since the nineteen thirties, Zhang wore a sweeping gown of gold, his long fingernails were pure silver, and his eyes burned with eldritch fires. He’d duelled demons from the Inferno, and faced down Elder Gods in his day, and founded most of the combat sorcery schools in the Nightside, and no-one knew more magic than he did. But all his spells and sorceries detonated harmlessly, savage destructive energies reduced to nothing more than fireworks. The Walking Man waited patiently until Zhang had exhausted himself, and then did Zhang the final insult of ignoring him.
    Walker made his way forward through the crowd, and everyone fell back to let him pass, and see what he could do. Chandra and I stuck close behind him. The Walking Man’s smile widened as he recognised Walker, becoming insolent and taunting almost beyond bearing. Walker stopped right before him and studied him sadly, like a teacher disappointed by a promising pupil.
    “Hello, Henry,” said the Walking Man. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
    “Hold everything,” I said. “You two know each other?”
    “Oh, he knows everyone, don’t you, Henry?” said the Walking Man. “Especially when they can be useful to him, to do those dirty and dangerous jobs that no-one else wants to know about. Henry doesn’t just deal with problems in the Nightside, you know. Especially after he lost his famous Voice and had to go out into the world to find a replacement.”
    “That’s all right, Adrien,” said Walker, entirely unmoved. “I got it back. Now stand down, Adrien, and surrender yourself to me. ”
    And there it was, Walker’s Voice that could not be denied, hammering on the air like the Voice of God. This close, even I could feel the power of it, like the thunderstorm that breaks right over your head. I looked at the Walking Man, to see how he was taking it.
    He laughed at Walker. “I know that Voice,” he said cheerfully. “I hear it every day. Only rather more clearly than that. I have to say, Henry, I’m very disappointed in you. That you of all people