Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    From $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    Hell to Pay
    Hell to Pay
    Hell to Pay
    Ebook271 pages4 hours

    Hell to Pay

    By Simon R. Green

    4/5

    ()

    Switch to audiobook
    Read preview

    About this ebook

    The name’s John Taylor. I’m a PI, though what I really do is find things that are lost. I work the Nightside, the city within the city of London, where the sun never rises and where the human and inhuman go to get their kicks, provided they’re willing to pay the price in whatever currency the seller demands.
               
    In the wake of the war that almost brought the Nightside to total ruin, there’s a power vacuum begging to be filled—and some think I should take charge. I don’t agree. Neither does the immortal known as the Griffin. Wealthy beyond reason, he has his own ideas about who should be running things. Still, when his granddaughter—and designated heir—is kidnapped, he calls on me to find her.
               
    But someone—or some Thing—is blocking my special gift. So this time, I’m going to have to do my job the hard way. And quickly, or the Griffin will have to choose a new heir…
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPenguin Publishing Group
    Release dateDec 26, 2006
    ISBN9781101208519
    Author

    Simon R. Green

    Simon R. Green was born in Bradford-on-Avon, Wiltshire, England, where he still lives. He is the New York Times bestselling author of more than seventy science fiction and fantasy novels, including the Nightside, Secret Histories and Ghost Finders series, the Ishmael Jones mysteries, the Gideon Sable series and the Holy Terrors mystery series. Simon has sold more than four million copies of his books worldwide.

    Read more from Simon R. Green

    Related to Hell to Pay

    Titles in the series (11)

    View More
    View More

    Related ebooks

    Fantasy For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • UNLIMITED

      In Search Of Sanctuary

      Jan 5, 2024

      In Search Of Sanctuary
      16 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      The Stiperstones

      Jan 26, 2024

      The Stiperstones
      3 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      From Hell To The Heavens

      Oct 12, 2021

      From Hell To The Heavens
      8 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      From Hell To The Heavens

      Oct 12, 2021

      From Hell To The Heavens
      8 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      From Hell To The Heavens

      Oct 12, 2021

      From Hell To The Heavens
      8 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Letters

      Oct 3, 2024

      Letters
      11 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Books

      Aug 8, 2022

      Books
      6 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Omens of CHANGE

      Nov 7, 2024

      Omens of CHANGE
      6 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      When I Find Hidden Gems, I Destroy Them

      Jul 28, 2021

      Three people may keep a secret if two of them are dead, said Benjamin Franklin. The sickening truth about travel writers is that they reveal secret locations in exchange for a free trip. It’s a Faustian pact and I must admit I bear some guilt in this

      3 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      This New Religion

      Jun 2, 2020

      He introduced himself as Captain Jack Lash Lannigan, and he said that he was an Irish pirate. “You don’t sound very Irish,” I told him, and he laughed. We—Maia, Gustav and I—had met Captain Jack outside the Nocturnem Draft Haus, a bar on Main Street

      5 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Letters

      Aug 8, 2024

      Letters
      11 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Roger’S PROFANISAURUS

      Aug 4, 2022

      [email protected] air fryer 1. n. Device for making chips that won’t fur up your arteries. 2. n. A highcalorie food’s ghost exorcised from the premises of one who enjoys an unusually high-fat diet. Alan Sugar’s beard n. A straggly, threadbare f

      6 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Hare Today

      Sep 5, 2024

      Hare Today
      11 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Ready, Set, Let go!

      May 15, 2019

      Ready, Set, Let go!
      11 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Quotients

      May 7, 2020

      Quotients
      8 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      We Come In Peace

      Mar 4, 2019

      We Come In Peace
      7 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Self-Published Books Showcase

      Jan 10, 2024

      Self-Published Books Showcase
      7 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Magic Realms: The Art Of Fighting Fantasy

      Sep 4, 2024

      ▸ RELEASED 5 SEPTEMBER 345 pages | Hardback/ebook ▸ Author Jonathan Green ▸ Publisher Unbound Deathtrap Dungeon is 40 years old this year. If that stat sends a shiver down your spine, this coffee table book celebration of the Fighting Fantasy range m

      8 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Frightfully GOOD

      Sep 5, 2019

      Frightfully GOOD
      3 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Nights To Remember

      Feb 22, 2022

      Nights To Remember
      5 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      The Spectre Of The Past

      Jan 25, 2024

      The Spectre Of The Past
      6 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Human After All

      Mar 11, 2022

      Human After All
      3 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Lady In The Water

      Jun 17, 2020

      Lady In The Water
      7 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Letters

      Oct 7, 2021

      Nigel Watson reported on the suggestion that the ancient aliens thesis was inherently racist because it refused to acknowledge the ability of people of colour to construct impressive edifices [FT409:32]. Now, while I don’t deny that some aficionados

      9 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Better Books

      Jan 9, 2020

      Erin Morgenstern, $24.99 When Zachary Rawlins stumbles across a strange book hidden in his university library, it leads him on a quest unlike any other. Determined to solve the puzzle of the book, Zachary follows the clues he finds on the cover – a b

      2 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for Hell to Pay

    4/5

    337 ratings14 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

    • 4/5
      Now that the Lilith War is over, we are back to more case books. This one involves an immortal name Griffin who hires John to find his daughter.

      Nothing in this book progresses the overall storyline, but it's still a very fun read. One thing I love about this series is it never has a lack of colorful characters.
    • 4/5
      Enjoyable book in a long-running series greatly enhanced by the narration of of Marc Vietor.
      In this book, John Taylor is asked to look into the kidnapping of the granddaughter of an immortal, ruthless businessman in the Nightside.
      Susie is not involved in this book and John is left on his own to investigate a very mixed up, nasty, confused family. without the benefit of his talent, which seems to be shut down every time he attempts to use it.
      The usual black humour mixed in with the mystery.
    • 3/5
      I thought this was the least captivating of his nightside series so far.
    • 4/5
      This installment was a bit slow compared to the previous. I had no clue where Green would take the series after the defeat of Lilith.
      I was honestly under the impression that the series would be done after that. I really am glad that the story has continued.
      In this one John Taylor takes a case from the Griffin, the Nightside's immortal family to find the kidnapped family heir. It was interesting to read the steps of PI work. It was hysterically humorous to read about Dead Boy again; he makes excellent points of life and death. On to the next one now.
      Cheers Pretties!
    • 4/5
      This is the first book after the Lilith War - and I liked it. It goes back to the beginning of the series - where John Taylor does a simple case, kills a lot of people, and solves the problem in a big, messy way.

      Its a good book - not great. The motivation for John Taylor is missing - and the author is quite sure what to do next. I like this universe - But- you would think that there would only be so many powerful types. It seems like John always has old friends that have never been mentioned before to call upon. These books are formulaic, and there really isn't any surprises. But, it is a fun read and perfect for a dreary day reading.
    • 3/5
      This is a review of the audiobook version (only time I have to myself is the car on the way to work!):

      After the previous three installments roped together the wider story and tied off most of the loose ends it was interesting to see where Simon R. Green would take the Nightside next. Well, actually, life pretty much continues as normal. The authorities are dead but Walker still runs the show. John isn't king but still a P.I. looking for his next job. And where many of the old Gods and Powers died during the war with Lilith, new ones are springing up to replace them.

      John is contacted by The Griffin, an immortal whose granddaughter has been kidnapped. From there the story goes back to the kind of thing it was in the earlier books, simply a P.I. on a case and meeting a bunch of odd characters on the way. Except, after the massive battles, trips through time and destruction of half the Nightside this seems a bit of a step backwards. I didn't find the long interviews with the abhorrent members of the Griffin family particularly thrilling and never felt that impending sense of doom I've grown used to whilst in the Nightside. Not really what I was expecting after 'Sharper Than a Serpent's Tooth'.

      As always, Green produces a cracking conclusion to the story involving crucifixion and a Duke of Hell which almost makes up for the dull and predictable plodding in the middle. I kinda wish he'd starting down that route earlier in the story (a case of 'paths not taken'? chuckle chuckle).

      The narrator Marc Vietor, who I thought was excellent in all the previous recordings sounds sounds a bit listless from about the halfway mark, almost as though his throat had given up. Perhaps he wasn't impressed by this one either?
    • 2/5
      Didn't go quite where I expected, but in general a standard Nightside epic-disaster-impossible-situation adventure.
    • 4/5
      With the end of the Nightside looming close, it was time to take stock of everything that I've come to love about this dark and gritty world that never ceases to amaze and entertain. As I was preparing to press the button on my online purchase of the thirteenth and final book in the series, The Bride Wore Black Leather, I couldn't help but reflect on my unique and rather long-time relationship with the Nightside. I first picked up book 3, Nightingale's Lament, back in high school because I was in love with the mesmerizing cover. Then, of course, I realized that I had missed a few books, so I backtracked (which did help a little bit in the back story area). From then on, I was hooked to the quirky and off-the-beaten-path setting in the Nightside.

      Then, after a while, I started to get a little bored of the Nightside. Things had started to slow down (I know, hard to believe in a place where it's always 3 a.m.), and I just wasn't as engaged in the characters. So, after Sharper than a Serpent's Tooth, I turned my back on the Nightside. That was probably the worst thing to do, especially considered that I came back a few years later.

      I picked up with The Unnatural Inquirer, which was rather timely since the issues with News of the World were going on. Then, I was back and I wasn't about to leave again. I got caught up with the series and now find myself at the brink of the end, I realized that I had somehow missed Hell to Pay somewhere in there.

      Thus, I am back in the Nightside with Hell to Pay. The Lilith War is over, but what's left in the wake of the war is a power vacuum Enter Jeremiah Griffin, leader of one of the last remaining immortal human families in the Nightside. And he's eager to take control. That is, until his granddaughter disappears. So, he recruits John Taylor, everyone's favorite private eye, to find her.

      Thus, John sets off on another wild adventure in the Nightside, complete with wild bars, crazy semi-immortals, and all kinds of the typical zany characters fans have come to love about the Nightside. Complete with Suzie Shotgun, Walker and a slew of new characters in tow.

      I wouldn't say that Hell to Pay is the most memorable Nightside novel, but it's a good edition to the collection.
    • 3/5
      So far, my least favorite of the series. I called it from the beginning. Still love the Nightside, but hope that the next book is better.
    • 4/5
      Back to honest detective work for John Taylor. The only problem I have with these books is how fast I go through them.
    • 3/5
      This is the 7th book in Simon Green's Nightside series. To me this book seemed to be very much a transition book. Being that the 6th book capped off the over arcing storyline, it is not surprising that this book is a bit weak. I still enjoyed reading it; although it just wasn't nearly as good as Sharper than a Serpent's Tooth was.

      In the aftermath of Lilith's War the Nightside needs a new leader and with John Taylor stepping aside; Walker is trying to fill that space. If there is anyone who can contend with Walker it is the Griffin family. A very powerful and immortal family the Griffin family is possibly in a position to rule the Nightside. Unfortunately when Griffin's granddaughter disappears John Taylor is called in to find her. Someone very powerful doesn't want her found and is able to shut down John's gift in an effort to stop him. Looks like John's going to have to solve this case the old-fashioned way.

      While this was still an enjoyable book; it was probably the weakest one in the series. The action scenes were few and far between and somewhat blase'. The characters were weak. It was good to see Dead Boy some more but he wasn't there for much of the book. The main powers of the Nightside were notable in their absence. Seriously this is the most boring of the Nightside books. It truly seems to be a transition novel, with everyone picking up the pieces of the Nightside after the Lilith War. Unfortunately it seems like Green doesn't know exactly to do with everyone either.

      I have high hopes for the next book but if it is as dull and uninspired as this one, I might have to rethink reading this series.
    • 4/5
      This seventh book in the series returns us to the fantastically awful world of the Nightside, a hidden world within London where it is always 3am. Our hero, John Taylor, is hired to locate the kidnapped daughter of the Nightside's most powerful, and treacherous, family. Stunningly creative, the Nightside grabs the imagination and keeps you coming back for more in a noir detective series that really is all about the night. Since the mystery of John's mother has been solved, some of the tension from the larger story arc is missing, but the charm of the Nightside and the detective story remains.
    • 4/5
      The Lilith war is over, and the nightside is rebuilding. The Authorities are gone, but Walker is still enforcing the rules, although no one knows whose power is backing his orders.
      Taylor is still the toughest PI in the Nightside, although with an even more frightening reputation. He has been contacted by the Griffin, a very powerfull, immortal businessman, who has lost her grandaughter.
      Taylors famous 'gift' for finding is being blocked, so he cand just Find her, he has to find her through more mundane methods. These bring him into contact with a number of old acquaintances and to places familiar from the other books in the series.
      Despite being the seven'th book in the series about John Taylor, PI, this book does in no way seem repetitive. Great and detailed settings. The story is fresh asd fastpaced, and the characters and their interactions are familiar but never dull.
      The story is mostly background for a mosaic of fantastical and original people and places.
    • 5/5
      WHERE IS SUZIE??? This book while as entertaining lacked something the rest were always full of, John's actual life. The only friend of his we really saw was Dead Boy...and they only give me Suzie in the epilogue. Tsk tsk. But I still look forward to the next one. And they are still oddly reminicent of Harry Dresden if Harry well killed more...cared less....wore white instead of black and actually didn't get hurt nearly as much. John has the good life...and the girl. LEARN FROM HIM HARRY. Though he lacks a Bob...and I miss his young little assistant girl..she pwned.

    Book preview

    Hell to Pay - Simon R. Green

    ONE

    The Hall of the Mountain King

    The boundaries of that dark and secret place, the Nightside, lie entirely contained within the city of London. And in that sick and magical place, gods and monsters, men and spirits, go about their very private business, chasing dreams and nightmares you won’t find anywhere else, marked down at sale price and only slightly shop-soiled. You want to summon up a demon or have sex with an angel? Sell your soul or someone else’s? Change the world for the better or just trade it in for something different? The Nightside lies waiting to oblige you, with open arms and a nasty smile. And yet within the Nightside there are many different lands and principalities, many private kingdoms and domains, and even more private heavens and hells.

    One such place is Griffin Hall, where the immortals live.

    My name is John Taylor. I’m a private eye, specialising in cases of the weird and uncanny. I don’t solve murders, I don’t do divorce work, and I wouldn’t recognise a clue if you held it up before my face and said Look, this is a clue. I do have a special gift for finding things, and people, so mostly that’s what I do. But basically I’m a man for hire, so sometimes that means I have to go where the money is.

    I drove my car along the long, narrow road that spiralled up through the primordial jungle surrounding Griffin Hall. Except it wasn’t really my car, and I wasn’t actually driving. I’d borrowed Dead Boy’s futuristic car, to make a better impression. It was a long, silver bullet with many wondrous features, which had fallen into the Nightside from the future, via a Timeslip. It adopted Dead Boy as its owner and occasional driver. I get the impression he wasn’t given much of a choice. I just sat back in the driving seat, enjoyed the massage function, and let the car drive itself. Probably had faster reactions than me anyway. I knew better than to try to touch any of the controls; the last time I even let my hands rest on the steering wheel, the car gave me a warning electric shock.

    Griffin Hall stood at the top of a great hill, in the middle of extensive grounds surrounded by high stone walls, protected by all the very latest scientific and magical defences. The huge wrought-iron gates were guaranteed impenetrable unless you had a current invitation, and you could get turned to stone just for leaning on the bell too hard. Griffin Hall, inside the Nightside, but not part of it. The Griffin family valued their privacy, and didn’t care whom they had to maim, mutilate, or murder to ensure it. Only the very important and the very privileged were ever invited to visit the Griffins at home. Their occasional parties were the biggest and brightest in the Nightside, the very height of the Social Scene; and you weren’t anybody if you didn’t have your invitation weeks in advance. I’d never been here before. For all my chequered and even infamous background, I’d never been important enough to catch the Griffins’ eye, until now. Until they needed me to do the one thing no-one else could do.

    I wondered who or what had gone missing, so completely and so thoroughly that not even the mighty Griffins, with all their resources, could find it.

    What had once been a truly massive and elegant garden, sprawling up the high sides of the hill, had been left neglected, then abandoned, possibly for centuries. It had fallen into a rioting jungle of assorted and unnatural vegetation, including some plants so ancient they’d been declared extinct outside the Nightside, along with others so strange and distorted they had to have been brought in from other dimensions. A great dark jungle of towering trees and mutant growths, pressed tight together and crowding right up to the edges of the single narrow road. The trees rose high enough to block out the starry expanse of the eternal night sky, leaning out over the road so their interlocking branches formed a canopy, a shadowy green tunnel through which I drove deeper and deeper into the heart of darkness.

    They say he raised the hill and the Hall in a single night…But then, they say a lot of things about Jeremiah Griffin.

    The car’s headlamps blazed bright as the sun, but the stark scientific light couldn’t seem to penetrate far into the verdant growth on either side of the road. Instead, thick motes of pollen drifted between the trees, big as tennis balls, glowing phosphorescent blue and green. Occasionally, one would burst into a spectacular fireworks display, illuminating the narrow trails and shifting jungle interior with flares and flashes of vivid light.

    Some of the plants turned to watch as the car glided smoothly past them.

    There were trees with trunks big as houses, their dark, mottled bark glistening wetly in the uncertain light. Heavy, swollen leaves, red as blood, pulsed gently on the lowering branches. Huge flowers blossomed, big as hedges, garish as Technicolor, petals thick and pulpy like diseased flesh. Hanging vines fell like bead curtains over the narrow trails, shivering and trembling like dreaming snakes. Now and again some small scuttling thing would brush up against the tips of the liana, and they would snap and curl around the helpless creature and haul it up, kicking and screaming, into the darkness above. The squealing would stop abruptly, and blood would drip down for a while. Green leafy masses with purple flowers for eyes and rings of thorns for teeth lurched and crashed along the narrow paths, stopping at the very edge of the road to shake their heavy bodies defiantly at the intrusion of light into their dark domain.

    I’d hate to be the Griffins’ gardener. Probably have to go pruning armed with a cattle prod and a flame-thrower. As the car drove on, I thought I saw something that might have been a gardener, leaning patiently on a wooden rake at the side of the road to watch me go by. He looked like he was made out of green leaves.

    The road rose before me, growing steadily steeper as I approached the summit, and Griffin Hall. The jungle was full of ominous sounds, deep grunts and sibilant rustlings, and the occasional quickly stifled scream. Everything in the jungle seemed to be moving slowly, stirring and stretching as though waking from a deep sleep, disturbed by the intruder in their midst. I was safe, of course. I’d been personally summoned by Jeremiah Griffin himself. I had the current passWords. But I didn’t feel safe. The car’s windows were all firmly closed, and the future vehicle had more built-in weapons than some armies, but still I didn’t feel safe. Being simply a passenger made me feel…helpless. I’ve always preferred to protect myself rather than rely on others. I trust my own capabilities.

    A thrashing mass of barbed vines lurched suddenly into the middle of the road, stretching out to block my way. There wasn’t time to slow, never mind stop, and the living barrier looked heavy and solid enough to stop a tank. I braced myself for the impact, and at the last moment a roaring circular buzz-saw rose up out of the car’s bonnet. We slammed into the thorny mass at full speed, and the howling saw tore right through it, spraying green leafy fragments in all directions. Many of them were still twitching. The great green thing screamed shrilly, its thorns trailing harmlessly along the car’s armoured sides as we punched through the green mass and out the other side.

    Long, twisting branches lowered themselves into the road ahead, any one of them big enough to snatch up the car and feed it to the overhead canopy. The buzz-saw sank back into the bonnet, and twin flame-throwers rose up in its place. Vicious flames roared out to attack the branches, their flaring light bright and clean against the dark. The heavy branches shook and shuddered as the flames took hold, and they shrank back from the car. We drove on through the opening gap, while the burning branches tried to beat out the flames by slamming themselves repeatedly against the road with terrific force.

    Nothing else bothered us. In fact, most of the vegetation seemed to draw back more than a little as we passed by.

    It still took a long time to get to Griffin Hall, the road rising higher and higher, increasingly steep and twisting as I ascended far above the neonlit streets of the Nightside and all the little people who lived there. It felt like I was scaling the heights of Mount Olympus to meet with the gods, which was probably the intention. Griffin Hall stood at the very top of its own private mountain, looking out over the Nightside as though the whole area was the Griffins’ own private preserve. As though they owned everything they could see, for as far as they could see. And if Jeremiah Griffin didn’t actually own all of the Nightside, and everyone who lived in it, it certainly wasn’t for want of trying.

    In the past the Authorities had kept him in his place, but they were all dead and gone now, so who knew what the future held. Someone had to run the Nightside, and ensure that everyone played nice together, and certainly no-one was better placed than Jeremiah Griffin, the immortal.

    I didn’t give a damn who ran the Nightside, or thought they did. I was only here because I’d been summoned, by the man himself. A great honour, if you cared about such things, which mostly I don’t. Of course, such an important man couldn’t follow the usual route of contacting my office and making an appointment with my secretary. No, the first I knew was when his voice suddenly appeared in my head, booming This is Jeremiah Griffin. I have need of you, John Taylor.

    Dammit, turn down the volume! I yelled, attracting the occasional glance from other people in the street.

    God himself wouldn’t be that loud, even if it was the Second Coming, and He was offering advance bookings for ringside seats. You’re not God, are you? I’ve been good. Mostly.

    There was a pause, then a somewhat quieter voice said, This is Jeremiah Griffin. I have need of you, John Taylor.

    Better, I said. Now how did you get hold of this number? My head is supposed to be strictly ex-directory.

    You will come to Griffin Hall. There is work for you here.

    What’s in it for me?

    There was a rather longer pause. People like Jeremiah Griffin weren’t used to being questioned, especially when they’ve lowered themselves to speak to you personally.

    I could have you killed.

    I had to laugh. People (and others) have been trying to kill me for as long as I can remember, and I’m still here, while mostly they aren’t. To my surprise, the voice in my head laughed, too, just a little.

    Good. I was told you weren’t the kind of man who could be threatened or intimidated. And that’s the kind of man I need. Come to Griffin Hall, John Taylor, and you shall have more money than you have ever dreamed of.

    So of course I had to go. I didn’t have any other cases, and the big money the Vatican had paid me for finding the Unholy Grail had pretty much run out. Besides, I was intrigued. I’d heard of the Griffin, the legendary human immortal—everyone in the Nightside had—but I’d never moved in the kind of circles where I was likely to meet him. Jeremiah Griffin was a man of wealth and fame and had been for centuries.

    All the Griffins were immortal, and there are very few human immortals left these days, even in the Nightside. Jeremiah was the first and the oldest, though no-one knew for sure exactly how old he was. Impossibly rich and incredibly powerful, Griffin owned much of the Nightside and many of the businesses that operated there. And he’d always been very open about his intention eventually to run the whole Nightside as his own private kingdom. But he was never a part of the Authorities, those grey and faceless men who used to run the Nightside from a safe distance. They blocked him at every turn, denied him openings and opportunities, kept him in his place…because when all was said and done, to them he was just another part of the freak show they’d run for longer than he’d been alive.

    Still, they were gone now. Perhaps it was the Griffin’s time, come round at last. Most of the Nightside wouldn’t care, too busy chasing their own chosen damnations and salvations, all the passions and pleasures that could only be found and enjoyed in the sleazy bars and members-only clubs of the Nightside.

    No-one knew for sure how Jeremiah Griffin became immortal. There were stories, there are always stories, but no-one knew for sure. He wasn’t a godling, a vampire, or a sorcerer. He had no angelic or demonic blood in him. He was just a man who’d lived for centuries and might live for centuries more. And he was rich and powerful enough to be very hard to kill. The Griffin’s past and true nature were a mystery, reportedly even from the rest of his family, and he went to great lengths to keep it that way. I saw the severed heads of investigative journalists set on spikes above the main gates as I drove through. Some of the heads were still screaming.

    The jungle garden came to an abrupt halt at the low stone walls surrounding the great open courtyard laid out before Griffin Hall. Rustling vegetation came right up to the walls but stopped just short, careful not to touch them. Long rows of curious carvings had been deeply etched into the pale creamy stone. The future car passed through the single opening into the courtyard, delicate filigree silver gates opening before the car as we approached and shutting themselves firmly behind us. The car curved around in a wide arc, its heavy wheels churning up the gravel, and stopped right before the main entrance. The driver’s door opened, and I got out. The door then immediately shut and locked itself. I didn’t blame it. There was nothing remotely inviting or welcoming about Griffin Hall.

    I leaned against the car, and took my time looking around. Beyond the low stone walls, the jungle pressed forward here and there, over and over. Any part of the vegetation that touched the creamy stone immediately shrivelled up and died, but the jungle persisted, sacrificing small parts of itself in its tireless search for a weak spot, driven by the slow, stubborn relentless nature of plants. Waiting only for the day, however far in the future that might be, when the walls would finally fall, and the jungle press inexorably forward to overwhelm Griffin Hall and all who lived in it. The jungle was immortal, too, and it had endless patience.

    The Hall itself was huge, sprawling and subtly menacing in the shimmering silver light from the oversized moon that dominated the Nightside sky. All the windows were illuminated, dozens of them, blazing out at the surrounding darkness. It should have been impressive, but every single window was long and narrow, like squinting, mean-spirited eyes. The massive main door was made of some unnaturally dark wood I didn’t recognise. It looked solid enough to stop a charging rhino.

    I let my eyes drift up several stories. All those brightly lit windows, and not one face peering out. Up on the roof, dark, indistinct figures moved shiftily among the sharp-edged gables. The gargoyles were getting restless. As long as they didn’t start throwing things…gargoyles delighted in toilet humour, and possessed uncanny aim. I took a deep breath, pushed myself away from the future car, and headed for the main door as though I didn’t have a care in the world. Never show fear in the Nightside, or something will walk all over you.

    I didn’t have to worry about Dead Boy’s car. It could look after itself.

    The path to the front door was illuminated by Japanese paper lanterns on tall poles, each one decorated with a different screaming face to ward off evil spirits. I took the time to study a few close up, but I didn’t recognise anyone. As I approached the front door, I realised for the first time that for all Griffin Hall’s legendary age, its stonework was still clean and sharp, the creamy stone untouched by time or erosion or the ravages of weather. The huge building could have been built just yesterday. Griffin Hall, like the family it protected, was also immortal, untouched, unchanging.

    I stood before the door, carefully pronounced the passWords I’d been given, and rapped firmly with the old-fashioned brass knocker. The sound seemed to echo on and on beyond the door, as though travelling unimaginably long distances. After letting me wait a suitable time, the door swung smoothly and silently open, to reveal the butler standing solemnly before me. He had to be the butler. Only a butler can look down his nose at you while remaining impeccably polite and courteous. I think they teach them that on the first day at butler training school. Certainly there’s no bigger snob than a servant of long standing.

    I’m John Taylor, I said.

    Of course you are, sir.

    Jeremiah Griffin is expecting me.

    Yes, sir. Do come in.

    He stepped back only enough to let me get past, so I made a point of stepping heavily on his perfectly polished shoes. He closed the door, then inclined his head to me in what was almost a bow, but not quite.

    Shall I summon a servant to take your trench coat, sir? We could have it cleaned.

    No, I said. It goes everywhere with me. It’d be lost without me.

    Indeed, sir. I am Hobbes, the Griffin family butler. If you would care to follow me, I will escort you into the master’s presence.

    Works for me, I said.

    Hobbes led the way through the huge entrance lobby and down a long hallway, back stiff, chin up, not even bothering to check if I was following. It probably never even occurred to him that I wouldn’t be. So I strolled along, a few paces behind, deliberately slouching with both hands in my coat-pockets. You learn to take your little victories where you find them. The hallway was big enough to drive a train through, lit by a warm golden glow that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Typical supernatural track lighting. I had a good look round, refusing to allow Hobbes to dictate the pace. I was genuinely interested. Not many people get to see the inside of Griffin Hall, and most of them had the decency and common sense to keep quiet about what they saw. But I’ve never been big on either. I was pretty sure I could make a tasty sum selling a detailed description to the Gracious Living section of the Night Times.

    But…I have to say, I wasn’t that impressed. The hallway was big, yes, but you soon got over that. The gleaming wooden floor was richly waxed and polished, the walls were brightly painted, and the high ceiling was decorated with a series of tasteful frescoes…but there were no standing suits of armour, no antique furnishings, no great works of art. Just a really long hallway with an endless series of paintings and portraits covering both walls. All of them depicting Jeremiah Griffin and his wife Mariah, in the fashions and styles of centuries past. Paintings hundreds of years old, celebrating two people who were probably even older. From formal stylised portraits where they both wore ruffs and the obligatory unsmiling expressions, through dozens of kings and more Parliaments, from Restoration to Edwardian and beyond. Some by artists so famous even I recognised them.

    I spent so long admiring a Rembrandt that Hobbes had to come back and hover over me, clearing his throat in a meaningful manner. I turned to give him my full attention. Hobbes really was the archetypal butler, upright and stern in his formal black-and-white Victorian outfit. His hair was jet-black and so were his eyes, though his tightlipped mouth was so pale as to be almost colourless. He had a high-boned face, and a long, pointed chin you could use to get pickles out of a jar. He should have been amusing, an anachronism in this modern day and age, but behind the arrogant servility there was a sense of enormous strength held in check, ready to be released in the service of his master. Hobbes…was creepy, in an utterly intimidating sort of way.

    You knew he’d be the first person to lean over your shoulder during a formal dinner and loudly announce that you were using the wrong fork. He’d also be the first to toss you out on your ear, probably with a broken limb or two, if you were dumb enough to upset his lord and master. I made a mental note not to turn my back on him at any time and to fight extremely dirty if push ever came to shove.

    If you’ve quite finished, sir…? Implied threats filled the pause at the end.

    Tell me about Jeremiah, I said, not moving, just to be contrary. Have you worked for him long?

    I have had the honour of serving the Griffin family for years, sir. But you will of course understand that I cannot discuss the family’s personal matters with any visitor, no matter how…well-known.

    I like your gardens, I said. Very…lively.

    We do our best, sir. This way, sir.

    It was clear he wasn’t going to tell me one damn thing, so I set off at a fast pace down the long hallway, and he had to hurry to catch up with me. He quickly resumed the lead, gliding silently along a careful two paces ahead of me. He was very quiet for such a big man. I felt like sticking my tongue out at his back, but somehow I knew he’d know, and wouldn’t care. So I settled for ambling along again, making as much noise as I could, doing my best to leave scuff marks on the polished floor. Every now and again, other servants would emerge from side corridors, all of them dressed in old-fashioned Victorian outfits, and every time they’d crash to a halt and wait respectfully for Hobbes to pass, before continuing on their way. Except…respectful wasn’t quite the word. No, they looked scared. All of them.

    Jeremiah and Mariah Griffin

    Enjoying the preview?
    Page 1 of 1