“Murdered? How horrible.”
“On the day of her wedding. Right there in the church, standing beside the man she was going to marry, Finnegan Hob.” Tears were brimming in the munkee’s eyes. “I was there. I saw it all. And I never want to see anything so terrible again as long as I live. It was as if all the light went out of the world in one moment.”
“Who murdered her?” Candy asked.
Filth’s face was completely motionless, except his eyes, which flickered back and forth like panicked prisoners in the cells of his skull.
“They said a dragon did it. Well, a dragon did do it; at least the killing part. And Finnegan killed the thing right outside the church, so that was an end to that. But the real villain…” His eyes closed for a moment. When they opened again he was looking directly at Candy. “The Lord of Gorgossium,” he said, very quietly. “That’s who made it happen. Christopher Carrion.”
“Why wasn’t he arrested?”
The munkee made a bitter laugh. “Because he’s the Prince of Midnight. Untouchable by the laws of Day. And nobody on the Nightside would bring him to law; how could they? Not when he was the last Carrion! It makes me crazy to think about it! He has her blood on his hands, her light on his hands. And he goes free, to cause more mischief. There’s no justice in this world!”
“You know this for certain?” Candy said. “That he’s guilty of her murder?”
After a moment’s musing, Filth said: “Put it this way: if he was standing here right now, and I had the means to do away with him…I would.” The munkee snapped his fingers. “Like that! There are some things you don’t need evidence for. You just know. In your heart. I don’t know why he did it. I don’t really care. I only know he did.” Now he fell silent, and in the lush breeze the lament returned.
“Sad music,” Candy said.
“Well, this isn’t a place of dancing. Not anymore. Will you excuse me for a while? I don’t feel in the mood to go on talking.”
“Oh yes, of course. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“The number of times I’ve told myself: do your best to be happy. You can’t change the past. She’s gone forever. And that’s all there is to it. But I suppose there’s a little corner of my heart that refuses to believe that.”
He gave Candy one last, mournful glance, and then he headed off into the blue shadows. As he went he said: “The musician’s called Bilarki, by the way. He doesn’t talk anymore, so don’t try and get a conversation out of him; you’ll be wasting your time.”
15 THE PURSUER (#ulink_5d956fe1-1b64-59c6-8da7-16cebf717271)
TWO SUMMERS BEFORE, THERE had been a tragedy in Chickentown that could have matched the tale of Princess Boa for sadness. A young man called Johnny Morales had come into town for his sister Nadine’s wedding, and the night before had been killed in an automobile accident. The young man’s passenger, who was the bridegroom-to-be, had also been killed. They’d been drinking heavily at the groom-to-be’s bachelor party, and laughing together (according to a survivor of the wreck) when Morales had lost control of his car and run off the highway into a tree. The double tragedy had been too much for Nadine. Having lost her brother and her beloved in one terrible moment, she gave up on life. Two and a half months later she checked into a rundown motel on the outskirts of town and took enough of her mother’s sleeping pills to make sure she never woke up again. The pain, the sadness, the meaninglessness of her life without her brother and her almost-husband had overwhelmed her.
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