Nightside 09 - Just Another Judgement Day

same age he is now.”
    “But...this is the Nightside!” I said. “There must be something someone can do.”
    “He’s tried most of them,” said Julien. “But some things . . . must run their course. I suppose there is still hope. Miracles do happen in the Nightside. But you shouldn’t put too much hope in that, John. He doesn’t. We all die from something.”
    “But . . . if he isn’t going to represent the new Authorities, who is? Who else is there, who can hold things together the way he has?”
    “Ah,” said Julien. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”
    He clapped me on the shoulder again and moved away to talk with Jessica. Who was actually almost half-way through her dessert. People can change. I looked over at Walker again. Much had suddenly become clear. I knew now why Walker had found it necessary to visit my house for the first time and call me son. When a man is facing his end, the first thing he thinks of is family, and who will carry on the family business. Walker turned suddenly, and caught me staring at him. He regarded me thoughtfully, dabbed at his nose one last time, folded the blood-stained handkerchief into a neat square, and tucked it back into his top pocket, then nodded for me to come over and join him.
    I did so, carefully not allowing myself to be hurried, and stood beside him at the window. He stuck out his hand to me. I went to shake it, and he shook his head.
    “The rings, John,” he said, firmly.
    “Rings?” I said, innocently. “What rings?”
    “The alien power rings you took off Bulldog Hammond earlier tonight, here at the Club. You know I can’t allow you to keep them.”
    I dug into my coat pockets and handed them over. He counted the rings carefully, then made them vanish somewhere about his person. I wasn’t too upset. It wasn’t like I had a clue how to work the damned things.
    “I was rather hoping you’d forgotten about them,” I said.
    “I never forget anything that matters,” said Walker. “Julien . . . told you, didn’t he?”
    “Yes.”
    “I swear, that man never could keep a secret.”
    “I don’t think he believes in them,” I said. “That’s why he runs a newspaper, so he can tell people things he thinks they ought to know. When were you going to tell me?”
    “Eventually,” he said. “I was working up to it. I didn’t want to muddy the waters, not when there were still so many things we needed to work out between us.”
    “This is why you’re not a part of the new Authorities,” I said, the penny suddenly dropping.
    “They don’t need me,” said Walker. “In fact, as a new force in the Nightside, they’re better off operating without an outsider like me. They need to start with a completely clean slate, not having to be committed or supportive of any decision or action I might have taken in the past. They need to be their own people now. Of course, I still have a lot to do, while I’m still able to do it.”
    “And when you’re not?” I said.
    He looked at me steadily, then smiled unexpectedly. “I thought you might like to take over, John.”
    “Me?” I was honestly shocked. “You know how much I’ve always hated authority figures!”
    “The best man for my job is the man who doesn’t want it,” Walker said easily. “The man least likely to be corrupted by power is the man who never wanted it in the first place. And besides, doesn’t every father want his son to follow in his footsteps?”
    “Don’t start that again,” I said. “Look, there has to be someone in the Nightside better qualified than me . . .”
    “Almost certainly,” said Walker. “But who else do I know as well as I know you, John? Who else could I trust as much as I have learned to trust you?”
    “Give me a minute, and I’ll make you a list,” I said. “Walker . . . Henry, there must be somebody who can help you.”
    “No,” said Walker. “There isn’t. I’ve looked. In all the places you can think of, and a few that would never even occur to you.”
    “What about the Street of the Gods? There are Beings there who raise the dead and heal the sick every day of the week, and run special matinees for the tourists!”
    “Not in any useful way,” said Walker. “There are . . . possibilities, I admit, but they all involve paying a price I find unacceptable.” He looked at me thoughtfully. “You did well today, John. The Walking Man really might have killed you.”
    “Yes,” I said. “He might have.”
    “I wonder,”