Nightside bit feats (The Unnatural Inquirer)

First mention of the Aquarius Key

“Max Maxwell; so big they named him twice. Night-club owner, gang boss, fence, and fixer. Also known as the Voodoo Apostate, though I couldn’t tell you why.”

“The very man,” said Walker. “A well-established, very well-connected individual. He tried to have me killed twice, but I’m not one to bear grudges. Anyway, it would appear dear Max came into possession of something rather special, something he should have had more sense than to get involved with. To be exact, the Aquarius Key.”

“I know the name,” I said, frowning. “Some artifact from the sixties, isn’t it? Back when every Major Player had to have their very own Object of Power to be taken seriously. I’ve never trusted the things. You can never tell when the cosmic batteries are suddenly going to run out of juice, and you’re left standing there with a silly-looking lump of art deco in your hand.”

“Quite,” said Walker. “Still, a very useful tool, the Aquarius Key. Part scientific, part magical, it was created to open and close dimensional doors. This was after the Babalon Working fiasco, you understand.” -The Unnatural Inquirer

Max Maxwell used this Key to pull the loa into the world against their will and force them into the bodies of his people:

Why…Aquarius?” I said.

Walker shrugged. “It was the Age. Word is, the Collector had it for a time, which was how he was able to start his marvellous collection of rare and fashionable items. Then he lost it in a card game to old blind Pew, and after that the Key went wandering through many hands, causing mischief and mayhem as it went, until finally it ended up in the possession of Max Maxwell. Where it apparently gave him ideas above his station.”

“And that’s how he became the Voodoo Apostate?” I said.

“Unfortunately, yes,” said Walker. “Voodoo is, first and foremost, a religion in its own right. Its followers worship a wide pantheon of gods, or loas: Papa Legba, Baron Samedi, Erzulie, and Damballa. These personages can be summoned, or invited, into our world, where they possess willing worshippers. Max made himself Apostate by using the power of the Key to drag the loa into this world, whether they wanted to come or not, then thrust them into his own people. Who could then be commanded to serve him in all kinds of useful ways. Inhumanly strong, utterly unfeeling, and almost impossible to kill, they made formidable shock troops.”

I winced. “Messing with gods. Always a bad idea.”

“Always,” said Walker. “Max used his new shock troops to enlarge his territory, with much slaughter and terror; which brought him to my attention. Inevitably, Max became greedy and overstretched himself, spread his control too thin; and the loa broke loose. Max didn’t wait for them to come looking for him. He went on the run, taking the Key with him, and none of my people have been able to find him. So I turned to Suzie, with her excellent reputation for finding people who don’t want to be found.”

Suzie growled something indistinct. I wouldn’t want to be Max Maxwell when she finally got to him. She took a target’s attempts to escape capture as a personal insult.

“What makes this case so urgent that you need me?” I said. “Suzie will find him. Eventually.”

“The loa have come to the Nightside,” said Walker. “And they are not in a good mood. They have possessed a whole crowd of the very best bounty hunters and are currently rampaging through the Nightside, on the trail of Max Maxwell.” -The Unnatural Inquirer

(You'll notice this wasn't a very good idea. We'll get back to that later.)

The Moon in the Nightside is twenty times as big as the one in the normal world:

I had to fight to concentrate on his past image. When my inner eye is cranked all the way open, I can See all there is to See in the Nightside, and a lot of it the human mind just isn’t equipped to deal with. The endlessly full moon hung low in the star-speckled sky, twenty times the size it should have been. -The Unnatural Inquirer

Fun Faire, the Nightside's abandoned amusement park, has become a genius loci capable of blocking psychic sight:

Max led us right through the centre of the Nightside, and out the other side, and I had a bad feeling I knew where he was headed. Bad as the Nightside undoubtedly is, even it has its recognised Bad Places, places you simply don’t go if you’ve got any sense. One of these is Fun Faire. It was supposed to be the Nightside’s very first amusement park, for adults. Someone’s Big Idea; but it never caught on. The people who come to the Nightside aren’t interested in artificial thrills; not when there are so many of the real thing available on every street corner. Fun Faire was shut down years ago, and the only reason it’s still taking up valuable space is because the various creditors are still arguing over who owns what. Now, it’s just a collection of huge rusting rides, great hulking structures left to rot in the cold, uncaring night.

Last I’d heard, they’d run through fourteen major league exorcists, merely trying to keep the place quiet.

Max had chosen Fun Faire as his bolt-hole precisely because so many bad things had happened there. So much death and suffering, so much cheerful slaughter and infernal malice, had turned the Fun Faire grounds into one big psychic null spot. The genius loci had become so awful, so soaked in blood and terror, that no-one could See into it. Which made it a really good place to hide out, for as long as you could stand it. -The Unnatural Inquirer

The origins of the place and its many, many, many problems:

Bad things had happened here, and perhaps were still happening, on some level. You can’t kill that many people, spill that much blood, delight in that much suffering and slaughter, and not leave a stain on Time itself.

It all started out so well. The Fun Faire did have its share of unusual, high-risk, high-excitement attractions. Just the thing to tempt the jaded palates of Nightside aesthetes. Or perhaps even the worst of us need to play at being children again, just for a while. So, the Dodgems of Doom could hit Mach 2 and came equipped with mounted machine-guns. The planes on the Tilt-A-Wheel had heat-seeking missiles and ejector seats. The Ghost Train was operated by real ghosts, the Tunnel of Love by a real succubus. The roller coaster guaranteed to rotate you through at last five different spatial dimensions or your money back. And the candy floss came treated with a hundred and one different psychotropic drugs.

But eventually someone noticed that though an awful lot of people were going into Fun Faire, a significant percentage weren’t coming out again.

And then it all went to Hell.

No-one’s too sure what started it. Best guess is someone put a curse on the place, for whatever reason. The first clue that something was severely wrong came when the wooden horses on the Merry-Go-Round became possessed by demons and started eating their riders. The Tilt-A-Wheel speeded itself up and sent its mock planes shooting off into space. They didn’t fly far. The roller coaster disappeared into another dimension, taking its passengers with it, and never returned. Distorted reflections burst out of the distorting mirrors and ran amok, killing everyone they could get their hands on.

Screams came out of the Ghost Train, and even worse screams out of the Tunnel of Love. The I-Speak-Your-Weight machines shouted out people’s most terrible inner secrets. The Clown that never stopped laughing escaped from his booth and strode through Fun Faire, ripping off people’s heads and hanging them from his belt. Still laughing. The customers ran for the exit. Some made it out.

The Authorities sealed off Fun Faire, so nothing inside could get out, and soon the whole place was dark and still and silent. No-one volunteered to go in and check for survivors, or bring out the dead. The Nightside isn’t big on compassion.

The owners, and then their creditors, turned to priests and exorcists, air strikes and high explosives, and none of it did any good. Fun Faire had become a Bad Place, and most people had enough sense to stay well clear of it. But, this being the Nightside, there were always those brave enough or stupid enough to use it as a hiding place, secure in the knowledge that only the most desperate pursuers would even think of coming in after them.

I looked at Suzie. “Fancy a stroll around? Check out all the fun of the fair?”

“Why not?” said Suzie. -The Unnatural Inquirer

Max Maxwell has been exposing the Aquarius Key to the other-dimensional energies that fill the place:

“I might have known they’d send you two,” he said, apparently unmoved by the threat of the shotgun. “But I’m afraid you got here just a little too late. I didn’t come here to hide; this whole place is a sink of other-dimensional energies, and the Aquarius Key has been soaking them up for hours. Soon the Key will be strong enough to open a door into the world of the loa; and then I will go through into that world…and the power stored in the Key will make me their master. A god of gods, lord of the loa.”

“Really bad idea, Max,” I said. “Messing with gods on their own territory. They’ll eat your soul, one little bit at a time. What did you think you were doing, bringing them here and humiliating them?” -The Unnatural Inquirer

Max uses the Key to open a split in reality that pulls everything towards it except for him:

He held out one hand towards me, and just like that, the Aquarius Key appeared upon it. The metal box looked like a toy on his huge pale palm. Its steel parts moved slowly against each other, sliding around and above each other, and I tried to look away, but I couldn’t. The Key was becoming something actually uncomfortable to look at, as though it was rotating itself through strange, unfamiliar spatial dimensions, in search of the doorway into the world of the loa. It burst open, blossoming like a metal flower, and a wide split opened up in mid air, like a wound in reality.

A great sound filled the air, echoing through the silent forms of Fun Faire, like a cry of outrage. A bright light blasted out of the opening hanging on the air, so sharp and fierce I had to look away, and just like that the spell of the Key was broken. I fell back a pace, raising one arm to shield my watering eyes against the fierce light. The split in the night widened inexorably, sucking the air into itself. It tugged at me, and at Suzie. I grabbed her waist, as much to steady myself as hold her in place, and she was steady as a rock, as always. Suzie grabbed on to the side of the nearest ride, and I held on to Suzie as the pull increased. Max Maxwell stood unaffected, protected by the Aquarius Key, shuddering and twitching on the palm of his hand. The rushing air shrieked as it was pulled into the growing split in the air, along with everything else loose. All kinds of junk flew through the air, tumbling end over end. I was holding Suzie so tightly it must have hurt her, but she never made a sound, and her white-knuckled grip on the ride never faltered. -The Unnatural Inquirer

Obligatory "oh fuck" moment:

“I get paid the same whether I bring you in dead or alive,” she said, her voice cold and calm as always. “On the whole, I tend to prefer dead. Less paper-work.”

“I am not carrying anyone that large out of here,” I said firmly. “Unless I absolutely have to. So let’s all play nice, then we can all walk out.”

But Max wasn’t listening to either of us. He was staring at something behind me, and even before he said anything, I could feel all the hackles on my neck rising.

“Ah, hell,” said Max Maxwell. “Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse…”

Suzie and I turned to look, and there standing in rows behind us was a small army of the Nightside’s very best bounty hunters. Heavily armed and armoured, they stood unnaturally still, all of them grinning unpleasantly, while their eyes glowed golden in the gloom, like so many candle-flames in the depths of Hell. Their wide grins showed teeth, like hunting dogs who’d brought their game to ground at last.

The loa had found us. -The Unnatural Inquirer

Max uses the Key to force the loa out of the bodies of the bodies they're possessing:

Max reared up suddenly, catching me off guard. He snatched the Aquarius Key away from me with his one good hand and twisted it savagely, shouting Words of Power. And all the bounty hunters screamed, as the possessing loa were forced out of them. Dozens of men and women crumpled to the ground, twitching and shuddering and crying hot tears of relief.  -The Unnatural Inquirer

This doesn't stop them. They proceed to possess...everything else:

For a moment, I actually thought the threat was over. I should have known better.

All around me, all the old rides and machinery creaked slowly back into life, wheels turning, machinery stirring, while the wooden Merry-Go-Round horses slowly turned their heads to look at us. The loa had found new hosts. A slow, awful life moved through Fun Faire, burning fiercely inside cold metal and painted wood, and out of the mouths of oversized clowns and Tunnels of Love and Horror came the outraged screams of the defied loa. -The Unnatural Inquirer

...

I turned my attention back to Fun Faire, coming slowly alive like a great beast stretching after a long sleep. Lights were snapping on all around us, flaring blue and green and pink in the dark. The huge rides creaked and groaned as rusting metal stirred to life again. Suzie moved in beside me, swinging her shotgun back and forth, restless for a target.

“John, what’s happening?”


“The loa have possessed the whole damned fairground,” I said. “All those exorcisms must have left it wide open…”

“Can’t we get Max to throw them out again?”

“Possibly,” I said. “If he wasn’t currently preoccupied with holding his shattered leg together.”

“It was your idea.”

“I know, I know!” -The Unnatural Inquirer

The loa briefly resist Walker's voice before yielding when John Taylor starts yelling at them:

“We won’t go,” they said, in their creepy single voice. “We can’t go until we have satisfaction. And if you stand between us and our rightful vengeance, we will be at your back and at your throat for as long as you live.”

I considered the problem. I could probably get Max to use the Key to send the loa home; but they’d just come back again, and again, till they got what they wanted. Max had hurt their pride, undermined their status as gods, and posed a threat to their whole religion. Hard to argue with that. It was an intriguing stand-off, and there was no telling which way it might have gone if Walker hadn’t arrived. As usual he appeared out of nowhere, strolling casually out of the shadows as though he happened to be passing and thought he’d drop in for a chat. He came and stood beside me, and Suzie immediately moved to stand on my other side. Walker smiled easily at the ranks of possessed bounty hunters.

“Well, well, the gang’s all here. But I think we’ve had enough fun and games for one night. Max Maxwell is in my custody, and therefore under my protection. I can give you my word that he will be severely punished. I have a nice little cell just waiting for him, in Shadow Deep. And you know what we do to prisoners there.”

“Not enough.” One of the bounty hunters stepped forward to confront Walker. “Revenge, to be properly savoured, has to be personal. Has to be…hands-on.”

“Not this time,” said Walker. “This is the Nightside, and we deal with our own problems. Go home.”

He used the Voice on them. The Voice that cannot be disobeyed or opposed. It hammered on the air, so loud and forceful that even I winced. But the loa wouldn’t budge. Until I raised my voice.

“Go home,” I said. “Or I’ll be very upset with you.”

Perhaps I was bluffing. Perhaps not. I’ll never tell. But it tipped the balance. They might have defied the powerful Walker or the infamous John Taylor, but not both of us at once. The bounty hunters collapsed again as the loa left them, returning at last to their own world. And that…was that. For now.

I looked at Walker. “You do know they’ll be back, sometime. We hurt their feelings.”

“Let them,” said Walker. “They should have accepted a place on the Street of the Gods, when I offered it to them. There’s no room for independent operators any more.”

“Like me?” I said.

“Exactly.” -The Unnatural Inquirer

Something about a thousand (probably not spatial) dimensions.

And, of course, a million different drugs from thousands of dimensions; buyer very much beware. -The Unnatural Inquirer

An outside force shuts off John's gift again...:

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.” -The Unnatural Inquirer

Another dimensional statement:

Most of the Beings on the Street of the Gods didn’t want to talk to me. In fact, most of them hid inside their churches behind locked and bolted doors and refused to come out until I’d gone. Understandable; they were still rebuilding parts of the Street from the last time I’d been here. But there are always some determined to show those watching that they aren’t afraid of anyone, so a few of the more up-and-coming Beings sauntered casually over to chat with me. A fairly ordinary-looking priest who said he was the newly risen Dagon. Stack! The Magnificient; a more or less humanoid alien who claimed to be slumming it from a higher dimension. And the Elegant Profundity, a guitar-carrying avatar from the Church of Clapton, who was so laid-back he was practically horizontal. -The Unnatural Inquirer

The afterlife of the Greenverse is higher than whatever higher dimension Stack! the Magnificent claims to have come from:

“But…if this recording should prove real, and accurate, it would provide proof of What Comes After,” Stack! said. “And the last thing anyone here wants is hard evidence of that. We derive our power from faith and worship. A true and actual Afterlife Recording could drive a lot of us out of business. Besides, most of Humanity isn’t ready for the truth.”

I regarded him thoughtfully. “Are you saying you know What Comes Next?”

Stack! squirmed uncomfortably, which given his rather fluid shape was a somewhat disturbing sight. “Well, no, not as such. I may be from a higher dimension, but not that high.” -The Unnatural Inquirer

Walker's intelligence and manipulation skills are on-par with John's. He can fairly easily play people against each other without them even realizing it:

“Now hush and observe Walker at work. See how he influences and manipulates people, without them even realising.”

“Things have got to change,” General Condor was saying heavily. He leaned forward across the table to glare at Walker, who seemed entirely unperturbed. The General’s voice was slow and deliberate, used to giving orders and having them obeyed. He had the air of a man people would follow: bluff, experienced, sure, and certain. A man who knew what he was doing. He jabbed a heavy finger in Walker’s face. “The Nightside can’t continue as it has—a haven for all human depravity and weakness. It’ll tear itself apart with the Griffin and the Authorities gone. The signs are clear for everyone to see, first the angel war, and then the Lilith War…Left to its own devices, the Nightside will inevitably tear itself apart.”

“There have always been wars, and destruction, and changes at the top,” Walker said calmly. “But the Nightside goes on. It has survived for thousands of years, and I see no reason why it shouldn’t continue as it is for thousands more. The world has always had a taste for freak shows.”

General Condor scowled. “That might have been true while the Authorities were running things and supporting the Nightside in the same way a farmer looks after the goose that lays golden eggs; but they’re gone now. Along with their blinkered preoccupation with trade and profit. It’s time for someone to take the longer view and make the Nightside into something better.”

“Nothing wrong with making money,” Uptown Taffy Lewis said immediately. His voice was soft and breathy, his great chest and belly rising and falling as though every breath cost him something. “The Nightside exists to provide people with the pleasures and pursuits they can’t get anywhere else. The things civilised people aren’t supposed to want, but do anyway. And they’ll pay through the nose for it, every time. Keep your rigid morality to yourself, General. We don’t need simpleminded do-gooders coming in from outside and meddling with a system that’s worked fine for thousands of years.”

“The man has a point, General,” said Walker. “It’s hard to argue with success.”

“All the things I’ve seen here,” said the General, “the marvels and wonders, the amazing achievements, the incredible possibilities…If you would only work together instead of cutting each other’s throats over a penny’s profits, the things you could do…The Nightside could become the pinnacle of human civilisation! Instead of the moral cesspit it is now. You could all be gods if you’d only throw off the chains that hold you back!”

“Not everyone wants to be a god,” said Walker. “In fact, I’d say we already have far too many. I’ve been thinking about ordering a cull…Too many Chiefs only confuse the Indians. Wouldn’t you agree, Helena?”

“You may address me as Queen Helena, or Your Majesty,” she said immediately, her voice suitably chilly. The other two looked at her sharply. You didn’t talk that way to Walker if you liked breathing, and having your bones stay where they were. But he nodded thoughtfully to Queen Helena, and she continued.

“People must know their place. For many, it is their nature to be ruled. To have someone ready to make the important decisions for them. I am not a lone voice in this. I speak for others such as I in the Nightside.”

“The Exiles,” said Walker. “All the other kings and queens and emperors who wound up here, via Timeslips or other unfortunate accidents. So many that there seems to be something of a glut of rulers on the market, at the moment.”

“People of power and prestige,” Queen Helena said firmly. “People who do not care for the way things are. The Nightside needs to be taken in hand and ruled by people suited to the task.”

“Would you agree with that, Taffy?” said Walker.

“No-one tells me what to do,” said Uptown Taffy Lewis. He almost sounded amused. “No-one rules the Nightside. Never has, never will. We make our own way. This is the last truly free place left on Earth, where everything and anything is possible. Even the Authorities knew enough to keep their distance. Right, Walker? I represent people, too. I speak for the businesspeople of the Nightside, and we will not stand by and see our rights trampled on.” He glared at Helena, and then at General Condor. “You don’t belong here, either of you. We like the Nightside just the way it is; and neither of you have the support or the power to change anything that matters. I own most of the land the Nightside stands on; my associates own most of the rest. We can bankrupt anyone who doesn’t back us up. And we can raise armies, if necessary, to defend what is ours.”

“I have led armies,” said General Condor. “There’s more to it than giving orders.”

“I have led armies, too,” said Queen Helena. Something in her voice made the others look at her. She smiled coldly. “I did not come here by accident. No arbitrary Timeslip brought me here; I can go home anytime I want. To the ancient and melancholy Ice Kingdoms, where my armies wait for me. It has been a long time since the Armies of the Evening have had a cause worth fighting for. Because we killed everyone else who stood against us, in the long twilight of Earth. I have no wish to be Queen of an empty world. Not when I can bring my armies here and make the Nightside my own.”

General Condor and Uptown Taffy Lewis looked at her, then at each other, and finally at Walker, who smiled easily.

“Why risk your armies, and your life, to secure a city, when you already have a world of your own?”

Queen Helena smiled back at him coldly, her blue-tinged lips drawing back to reveal perfect sharp teeth. “I like it here. It’s warm.”

“Ice melts when the going gets hot,” said Taffy.

“You dare?” Queen Helena stood up, glaring down at them all. Strange metallic shapes surfaced in the blue-white flesh of her arms. Silver-grey barrels targeted Taffy and the General. -The Unnatural Inquirer

His Voice is just as powerful as always:

“That’s enough!” Walker didn’t stand up. He didn’t need to. He was using the Voice. “Put your weapons away, Helena.”

The Queen of the Evening shook and shuddered, her lips drawing back in a frustrated grimace, as she fought the Voice and failed. The implanted technology sank back into her arms, bluish skin closing seamlessly over it. She snarled furiously at Walker, a fierce, animal sound, then she turned abruptly and stalked away. Servants hurried to get out of her way. General Condor and Uptown Taffy Lewis rose to their feet, bowed stiffly to Walker, and then they left, too, careful to maintain a respectful distance between them. Perhaps they were worried Walker would use the Voice on them. He watched them go thoughtfully, and then turned unhurriedly in his chair and looked right at me.

“I’ll see you now, Taylor.”

I nodded and smiled, and moved unhurriedly forward to join him at his table. Bettie stuck close to my side.

“How did he know we were there?” she whispered.

“He’s Walker,” I said.

Bettie and I sat down in the newly vacated seats, facing Walker. He looked perfectly calm and at ease in his elegant city suit, his public school tie neatly tied in a Windsor knot. He didn’t seem particularly pleased to see me, but then he rarely did.

“Nicely played,” I said. “You set them at each other’s throats without once having to make clear your own position. It’s always good to see a real professional at work.” -The Unnatural Inquirer

Yet another thing that exists in more than three spatial dimensions:

The Museum of Unnatural History is very modern-looking. The French may have a glass pyramid outside the Louvre, but we have a glass tesseract. An expanded cube that exists in four spatial dimensions. A bit hard on the eyes, but a small price to pay for style. -The Unnatural Inquirer

A minor statement that Razor Eddie is the only god that all of the other beings on the Street of the Gods are afraid of:

“All right, if it isn’t Walker, then who? Razor Eddie?”

I shook my head. “He might be the Punk God of the Straight Razor, but Eddie’s never been very interested in religion. In fact, he’s pretty much the only god all the other Beings on the Street of the Gods are afraid of.” -The Unnatural Inquirer

John explains how spatial spells can fail:

Not entirely to my surprise, the interior of the shop wasn’t at all what its exterior had suggested. For one thing, the interior was a hell of a lot bigger. It’s a common enough spell in the Nightside, sticking a large space inside a small one, given that living and business space are both in such short supply. The problem lies with the spell, often laid down in a hurry by dodgy backstreet sorcerers, the kind who deal strictly in cash. All it takes is one mistake in the set-up, one mispronunciation of a vital word; and then the whole spell can collapse at any time without any warning. The interior expands suddenly to its full size, shouldering everything else out of the way…and they’ll be pulling body parts out of the rubble that used to be a street for days on end. -The Unnatural Inquirer

A group of powerful combat sorcerers walks through the magical defenses surrounding Strangefellows:

And then we all looked round sharply at the sound of heavy footsteps in the entrance lobby upstairs. They were heading our way, and they didn’t sound like customers. Alex cursed dispassionately.

“My defences are telling me that a bunch of combat sorcerers just walked right through them, without even hesitating. Really powerful combat sorcerers.”

“How can you tell?” said Bettie

“Because only really powerful combat sorcerers could get through this bar’s defences,” I said.

Thirteen very dangerous men came clattering down the metal stairs into the bar proper, making a hell of a racket in the process. They moved smoothly, in close formation, and spread out at the bottom of the steps to cut us off from all the exits. They stood tall and proud, radiating professionalism and confidence. They were all dressed in black leather cowboy outfits, complete with Stetsons, chaps, boots, and silver spurs. Surprisingly, and a bit worryingly, they weren’t wearing holsters. They all possessed various charms, amulets, fetishes, and grisgris, displayed openly around their necks or on their chests for all to see, and despair. These were major league power sources, for strength and speed, transformations and elemental commands. A bit generic but no less dangerous for that. -The Unnatural Inquirer

These sorcerers use their magic to power "conceptual guns" that never miss, never run out of ammo, and kill whatever they hit:

“We are Clan Buckaroo. We work for Kid Cthulhu. And you’ve got something we want.”

“Like what?” I asked. “Fashion sense?”

The leader’s hand dropped to where his holster should have been. The twelve other combat sorcerers all did the same. Some suddenly had guns of light in their hands, sparking and shimmering. Like the ghosts of guns steeped in slaughter. And a few, including the leader, just pointed their index fingers at me, like a child miming a gun. I looked at the leader and raised an eyebrow.

“Conceptual guns,” he said. “Creations of the mind, powered by murder magic. They never miss, they never run out of ammunition, they can punch a hole through anything; and they kill whatever they hit. Allow me to demonstrate.”

He pointed his finger at the bottles ranked behind the bar. I grabbed Bettie and Donavon and dragged them out of the way. One by one the bottles exploded, showering glass fragments and hissing liquids all over the bar. Alex stood his ground and didn’t move an inch, even as liquors soaked his shirt, and flying glass cut his cheek. The leader raised his finger to his lips and blew away imaginary smoke. The disembodied hand flipped him the finger, and then disappeared under the bar. The watching cowboys were all grinning broadly. Alex glared right back at them.

“You needn’t be so smug. You only got the stuff I keep for tourists. The good stuff can look after itself.” -The Unnatural Inquirer

...

Ace pointed his conceptual gun at the drunk sorcerer, still out cold despite all the drama going on around him. A tired old man, who might or might not have done a terrible thing in his younger days. Ace shot him three times, his pointed finger unwavering even as the invisible bullets punched large bloody holes in the sleeping man. Thallassa’s body jumped and jerked under the impact of the bullets, but he never made a sound. He just lay where he was, slumped across his table, as the blood ran out of him. Murdered, for no reason he would ever know. Ace laughed briefly and turned back to me. -The Unnatural Inquirer

John's ability to "stare people down" doesn't work on them thanks to their magical protection:

I stepped forward, putting myself between her and the leader. I looked him square in the eye. “You don’t want to be here,” I said. “These aren’t the people you’re looking for.”

I held his gaze with mine, and he stood very still. Behind him, the other combat sorcerers stirred restlessly. And then the leader smiled coldly right back at me.

“I’ve heard about your evil eye, Taylor. Won’t work on any of us. We’re protected.”

He was right. I couldn’t stare him down, couldn’t even reach him. -The Unnatural Inquirer

Merlin made Alex Morrisey an enchanted cricket bat imbued with his own magic:

“Oh, shit,” said Alex, putting down the shotgun. “Guys, you’re on your own. If you want me, I’ll be hiding behind the bar, whimpering and wetting myself.”

“Really?” said Bettie, not bothering to hide her disappointment in him.

“Hell no,” said Alex. “This is my bar! It’s bad enough that the whole world conspires against me, messes with my beer and puts my vulture up the duff, without having a bunch of refugees from an S&M march walking in here like they own the place. And Thallassa hadn’t even paid for his drinks yet, you bastards! You owe me money!” He vaulted over the bar, holding a glowing cricket bat. “Merlin made this for me, sometime back. For when you really, absolutely have to take out the trash.” -The Unnatural Inquirer

It smashes through magical defenses like they're made of glass:

Alex hit the group a moment later, swinging his cricket bat with both hands as though it were a long sword. He smashed faces and broke bones, and the cowboys fell back, crying out in shock and distress. None of them had prepared for an irate bartender armed with a weapon enchanted by Merlin Satanspawn. The glowing cricket bat smashed through their magical defences like they weren’t even there.  -The Unnatural Inquirer

The same bat also deflects offensive magic back at whoever casts it:

Sparks flew from Alex’s cricket bat as he clubbed his way through the cowboys before him. They blasted him with destructive spells at point-blank range, but the magic Merlin had built into the bat reflected the spells right back at their source. As a result, lightning bolts flashed back and forth across the bar, bouncing off magical shields and doing extensive damage to the bar’s fixtures and fittings. Magical bullets ricocheted, punching holes in the walls and ceiling. And two rather surprised-looking toads blinked at each other from piles of cowboy clothes before reappearing as themselves again. -The Unnatural Inquirer

A parasite in Pen Donavon's body is powerful enough to warp reality inside of Strangefellows despite Merlin Satanspawn's protections:

I started to explain, as kindly as I could, about psychic imprinting and guilt, but I could tell he wasn’t listening. And I stopped as I realised the bar was getting darker. The light became suffused with red, as though stained with fresh blood, sinking into a deep crimson glow. Tables and chairs suddenly exploded into flames and burned fiercely, unconsumed. The Coltranes backed quickly away, and joined the rest of us at the bar. The walls slumped slowly inwards, swollen and inflamed, their fleshy texture studded with sweating tumours. A huge eye opened in the ceiling, staring down at us in cold judgement. The floor became soft and uncertain beneath my feet, heaving like the slow swell of the sea. Deep dark shadows were forming all around us, slowly closing in.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” said Bettie, gripping my arm with both hands. “It’s Pen. He’s imprinting his vision of Hell right here, with us.”

“Looks like it,” I said. “Only this doesn’t look or feel like any illusion. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s real, as such, but it could be real enough to kill us.”

“How is he doing this?” said Alex. “This bar has defences and protections laid down by Merlin himself!”

“Yes,” I said. “Where is the power coming from to let him do something like this?”

I fired up my gift, and looked at Pen Donavon through my third eye, my private eye. And I found the hidden source of his unnatural power. I could See the thing, inside his body, tucked away under the sternum and over the heart. It must have come to his little shop as just another piece of interdimensional flotsam and jetsam; and he probably hadn’t realised how powerful it was until he accidentally activated it. Probably hadn’t even realised it was alive until it forced its way inside him. Now it was attached to him, a part of him, with long tendrils reaching into his heart and gut and brain. A mystical parasite, living off him while feeding him power in return. -The Unnatural Inquirer

Kid Cthulhu is described as being capable of smashing men's bones with his bare hands, breaking apart bones just to get to the marrow, and possessing an entity inside of his body from Outside:

A new spotlight stabbed down from overhead, revealing Kid Cthulhu sitting on a huge reinforced chair, right in the centre of the open space. He looked like a man, but he wasn’t. Not any more. You could tell. You could see it, feel it. There was a taint in the man, all the way through. He had been touched, and changed, by something from Outside. Kid Cthulhu was a large man, he had to be, to contain everything that was in him now. He was naked, his skin stretched taut and swollen, as though pushed out by pressures from within. He was supposed to be about my age, but his face was so puffed out no trace of human character remained in it. He sat slumped in his oversized chair, like King Glutton on his throne. His bare skin gleamed dully in the mercilessly revealing spotlight, colourless as a fish’s belly, while his eyes were all black, like a shark’s.

They say he broke men’s bones with his bare hands. They say he ate the flesh of men, breaking open the bones to get at the marrow. They said there was something growing within him, or perhaps through him, from Outside. And right then, I believed every word they said. -The Unnatural Inquirer

His footsteps are enough to shake the floor of the club he and John are standing in:

Kid Cthulhu strode toward us, slowly and deliberately, each step shaking the floor, his deep-set eyes fixed on me. His purple pouting mouth parted to reveal jagged sharp teeth. His huge puffy hands opened to reveal claws. Someone that size shouldn’t have been able to move unaided, let alone have such an air of strength and deadly purpose. -The Unnatural Inquirer

Mace laced with holy water does absolutely nothing to him:

I was still thinking what to do when Bettie stepped smartly forward, opened her purse, took out her Mace spray, and let Kid Cthulhu have it, right in the face.

“Nasty fat man,” she said calmly. “And you smell.”

Kid Cthulhu stopped before her, surprised, but showing no hurt at all from a faceful of Mace laced with holy water. His all-black eyes barely blinked as the Mace ran down his distended cheeks like so many viscous tears. He lashed out suddenly, one huge arm swinging round impossibly quickly, and the impact knocked Bettie off her feet and sent her flying. She crashed through a table, hit the floor hard, rolled over a few times, and lay still; and it was all over before I could even move a muscle. I called out to her, but she didn’t answer. -The Unnatural Inquirer

John's stare completely fails to work on him:

I stopped, stood my ground, and stared him right in the eye. Sometimes the oldest tricks are the best. But for the second time that day, I found myself faced with someone I couldn’t stare down. His flat black eyes stared right back at me, untouched and unmoved. I couldn’t reach him. I wasn’t even sure there was anything human left in him to reach. -The Unnatural Inquirer

John punching him in the stomach doesn't do anything:

His impetus drove him forward onto my fist, and it sank deep into his gut. He didn’t even make a sound. The cold, cold flesh closed around my hand, sucking it in. I had to use all my strength to pull it free again. Just the touch of his flesh was enough to set my teeth on edge. -The Unnatural Inquirer

A single hit from Kid Cthulhu does this to John:

A huge arm came swinging round out of nowhere and hit me like a club. I managed to get a shoulder round in time to take the worst of the impact, but the flesh seemed to just keep coming and slammed into the side of my face. The strength went out of my legs, and I hit the floor hard, driving the breath from my lungs. My left shoulder blazed with pain, and I could barely move my left arm. The whole left side of my face ached fiercely. There was blood in my mouth, and I spat it out. I sensed as much as saw Kid Cthulhu looming over me, and I rolled to one side as his great fist came slamming down like a pile-driver, cracking and splintering the floor where I’d been lying. I got my legs under me and forced myself back up onto my feet again. I didn’t feel too steady, and I was breathing hard. Kid Cthulhu wasn’t.

I backed away. My left eye was puffing shut, and it felt like my nose might be broken. I checked my teeth with my tongue. I didn’t seem to have lost any, this time. I hate it when that happens. There was more blood in my mouth. Probably a cut on the inside of my cheek. I spat the blood in Kid Cthulhu’s direction, but his flat dark eyes never wavered.

I couldn’t fight a man like this. I had to be smarter than that. -The Unnatural Inquirer

Gaylord du Rois (yes, that's his real name) reveals himself to have been the one who's been shutting down John's powers for most of this installment:

 “I don’t see why the Editor of the Unnatural Inquirer should give much of a damn about the morality of the Nightside.”

“Quite right, Mr. Taylor. I don’t give a damn. Except for when it makes good copy. Reporting and condemning the sins and shames of the Nightside has filled the pages of my paper for generations. But one lifetime wasn’t enough for me. I wanted more. There was still so much left to see, and know, and do. So I found a way. You can always find a way in the Nightside, even if some of them aren’t very nice. When one of my Removal Men removes a thing, or a person, all their potential energy, from all the things they might have done, is left up for grabs; and it all comes to me. Those energies have kept me going long after I should have left this world, and made me very powerful indeed.”

“You’re the one who shut down my gift!” I said.

“Yes,” du Rois said calmly. “It was necessary to neuter you, so you wouldn’t find Pen Donavon too quickly. I needed time for rumours about the Afterlife Recording to spread, and grow, and fascinate the minds of my readers. Bringing you in guaranteed that people would pay attention. After all, if you were involved, it must be important. By the time my Sunday edition comes out, with my giveaway DVD, people will be fighting for copies of my paper. And all because of you…”

“Sales?” I said. “This has all been about sales?”

“Of course. I don’t think you appreciate exactly how much money I stand to make out of this, Mr. Taylor.” -The Unnatural Inquirer

John uses the Aquarius Key to send du Rois into the void before he can do anything:

He looked at Bettie. “I’m afraid you have to die, too, my dear. Can’t have anyone hanging around to contradict the story I’m going to sell people.”

“But…I’m one of your people!” said Bettie. “I work for the Inquirer!”

“I have lots of reporters. I can always get more. Now hush, dear. Your voice really is very wearing…Don’t move, Mr. Taylor. I’ve already taken the precaution of shutting down your gift again, just in case you were thinking of using it on me. And you don’t have anything else powerful enough to stop me.”

“Want to bet?” I said. And I took out of my coat-pocket the Aquarius Key. I activated the small metal box, and it opened up, unfolding and blossoming like a steel flower. A great rip appeared in reality, right in front of Gaylord du Rois. He only had time to scream once before the void swallowed him, then he was gone. I hung on grimly to Bettie as the void pulled us forward, then I shut the Aquarius Key down again, and that was that.

It was suddenly very quiet in the empty club. Bettie looked at me with huge eyes.

“I really should have handed the Key over to Walker, after that nasty business at Fun Faire,” I said. “But I had a feeling it might come in handy.”

“You’ve had that all along?” said Bettie. “Why didn’t you use it before?”

I shrugged. “I didn’t need it before.”

She hit me. -The Unnatural Inquirer