Read Online The Unnatural Inquirer by Simon R. Green - Free Book Online
Authors: Simon R. Green
Ads: Link
abruptly out of nowhere thanks to Bettie’s dimensional key. No-one paid us any attention. People appearing out of nowhere is business as usual in the Nightside. It’s when people start disappearing suddenly that everyone tends to start screaming and taking to their heels, and usually with good reason. I realised Bettie was looking at me expectantly, and I sighed inwardly. I knew that look.
“I know that look,” I said to her sternly. “You’ve heard all the stories, studied up on the legend, and now you expect me to solve the whole case with one snap of my fingers. Probably while smiling sardonically and saying something wickedly witty and quotable. Sorry, but it doesn’t work that way.”
“But…everyone knows you have a gift!” said Bettie, fixing me with her big dark eyes like a disappointed puppy. “You can find anyone, or anything. Can’t you?”
“You of all people should know better than to believe in legends,” I said. “Reality is always far more complicated. Case in point: yes, I do have a gift for finding things, and people, but I can’t just use it to pinpoint the exact location of Pen Donavon or his DVD. I need a specific question to get a specific answer. But with the information I’ve got, I should be able to get a rough sense of where to start looking…”
I concentrated, waking my third eye, my private eye, and the world started to open up and reveal its secrets to me…and then I cried out in shock and pain as a sudden harsh pressure shot through my head, slamming my inner eye shut. Some great force from Outside had shut down my gift as quickly and casually as a dog shrugging off a bothersome flea. I swore harshly, and Bettie actually retreated a couple of steps.
“Sorry,” I said, trying to ease the scowl I could feel darkening my face. “Something just happened. It would appear that Someone or Something big and nasty doesn’t want me using my gift. They’ve shut me down. I can’t See a damned thing.”
“I didn’t know anyone could do that,” said Bettie.
“It’s not something I’m keen to advertise,” I said. “Has to be a Major Player of some kind. I hope it’s not the Devil again…”
“Again?” said Bettie delightedly. “Oh, John, you do lead such a fascinating life! Tell me all about it!”
“Not a chance in Hell,” I said. “I don’t discuss other client’s cases. Anyway, it’s not like I’m helpless without my gift. We’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way: asking questions, following leads, and tracking down clues.”
“But…if a Major Player is involved, doesn’t that mean the Afterlife Recording must be the real deal?” said Bettie. “Or else, why would they get involved?”
“They’re involved for the same reason we are,” I said. “Because they want to discover whether the Recording is the real deal, or not. Or…because Someone wants us to think it’s real…Nothing’s ever simple in the Nightside.”
And then I stopped and looked thoughtfully at Bettie Divine. There was something subtly different about her. Some small but definite change in her appearance since we’d left the Unnatural Inquirer offices. It took me a moment to realise she was now wearing a large floppy hat.
“Ah,” said Bettie. “You’ve noticed. The details of my appearance are always changing. Part of my natural glamour, as the daughter of a succubus. Don’t let it throw you, dear; I’m always the same underneath.”
“How very reassuring,” I said. “We need somewhere quiet, to think and talk this through…somewhere no-one will bother us. Got it. The Hawk’s Wind Bar and Grille isn’t far from here.”
“I know it!” said Bettie, clapping her little hands together delightedly. “The spirit of the sixties! Groovy, baby!”
“You’re like this all the time, aren’t you?” I said.
“Of course!”
“I will make your Editor pay for this…”
“Lot of people say that,” said Bettie Divine.
The Hawk’s Wind Bar & Grille
“I know that look,” I said to her sternly. “You’ve heard all the stories, studied up on the legend, and now you expect me to solve the whole case with one snap of my fingers. Probably while smiling sardonically and saying something wickedly witty and quotable. Sorry, but it doesn’t work that way.”
“But…everyone knows you have a gift!” said Bettie, fixing me with her big dark eyes like a disappointed puppy. “You can find anyone, or anything. Can’t you?”
“You of all people should know better than to believe in legends,” I said. “Reality is always far more complicated. Case in point: yes, I do have a gift for finding things, and people, but I can’t just use it to pinpoint the exact location of Pen Donavon or his DVD. I need a specific question to get a specific answer. But with the information I’ve got, I should be able to get a rough sense of where to start looking…”
I concentrated, waking my third eye, my private eye, and the world started to open up and reveal its secrets to me…and then I cried out in shock and pain as a sudden harsh pressure shot through my head, slamming my inner eye shut. Some great force from Outside had shut down my gift as quickly and casually as a dog shrugging off a bothersome flea. I swore harshly, and Bettie actually retreated a couple of steps.
“Sorry,” I said, trying to ease the scowl I could feel darkening my face. “Something just happened. It would appear that Someone or Something big and nasty doesn’t want me using my gift. They’ve shut me down. I can’t See a damned thing.”
“I didn’t know anyone could do that,” said Bettie.
“It’s not something I’m keen to advertise,” I said. “Has to be a Major Player of some kind. I hope it’s not the Devil again…”
“Again?” said Bettie delightedly. “Oh, John, you do lead such a fascinating life! Tell me all about it!”
“Not a chance in Hell,” I said. “I don’t discuss other client’s cases. Anyway, it’s not like I’m helpless without my gift. We’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way: asking questions, following leads, and tracking down clues.”
“But…if a Major Player is involved, doesn’t that mean the Afterlife Recording must be the real deal?” said Bettie. “Or else, why would they get involved?”
“They’re involved for the same reason we are,” I said. “Because they want to discover whether the Recording is the real deal, or not. Or…because Someone wants us to think it’s real…Nothing’s ever simple in the Nightside.”
And then I stopped and looked thoughtfully at Bettie Divine. There was something subtly different about her. Some small but definite change in her appearance since we’d left the Unnatural Inquirer offices. It took me a moment to realise she was now wearing a large floppy hat.
“Ah,” said Bettie. “You’ve noticed. The details of my appearance are always changing. Part of my natural glamour, as the daughter of a succubus. Don’t let it throw you, dear; I’m always the same underneath.”
“How very reassuring,” I said. “We need somewhere quiet, to think and talk this through…somewhere no-one will bother us. Got it. The Hawk’s Wind Bar and Grille isn’t far from here.”
“I know it!” said Bettie, clapping her little hands together delightedly. “The spirit of the sixties! Groovy, baby!”
“You’re like this all the time, aren’t you?” I said.
“Of course!”
“I will make your Editor pay for this…”
“Lot of people say that,” said Bettie Divine.
The Hawk’s Wind Bar & Grille
Similar Books
