I did not sleep at all well that night. Not even a couple of stiff drinks helped settle me down. My dreams - my nightmares - were filled with flames, and in them stood Mrs Kochak, her flesh melting as they took her. Each time it happened she reached out imploringly.

"Why?" she asked. "Why?" Then her words petered out into a pitiful wail.

Each time I woke, drenched through with sweat, my heart pounding and grasping at the revolver that I kept beneath my pillow.

Somewhere in the early hours of the morning, around four or so, I got up, unable to return to sleep. My body ached from the ordeal of the previous day and to that I now added exhaustion. I could feel the hints of a headache setting in. I stumbled my way to the bathroom, flicking on the illuminance globe. As it came on, the light of it stabbed at my eyes, further agitating my headache.

The face that met me in the mirror was not one I'd like to see any time of the day, let alone in a back alley at night time. There were a couple of bruises darkening the skin and I looked a dishevelled wreck, with bags under my eyes, my dark hair sticking out at all angles like a messy bird's nest and the stubble of unshaven growth collecting on my jaw. Even my pale eyes had lost their customary fire, now being bloodshot and bleary. I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wake myself up and restore some semblance of normality. For a moment I considered shaving. In the end I decided against it. I did not relish the prospect of having a razor in my hands that close to my throat in the state I was in. Accidents were bound to happen.

Instead I got dressed and decided to go out for a walk.

The early morning chill greeted me as I opened the door and stepped out, and the sharpness of it I breathed in did wonders at kicking me awake. The drizzle was light for a change, almost non-existent. I locked the door behind me and returned the keys to my pocket.

The air was brisk as I walked a slow pace through the mists and the fog. The only illumination came from the street lamps, puddles of liquid light in the darkness. Only the very rare house had a source of light coming out of it. The rest were dark, the residents asleep like a normal person should have been. There was almost no sound as well beyond the occasional dip of water as it fell from roofs and balconies and street lamps. No one else was up. It was if I had the city to myself.

I stopped beneath one of the street lamps. Leaning up against the pole, I hunched up in my coat, seeking some warmth against the cool. My hands still had a slight tremor to them. Reaching into a pocket in my coat, I took out a cigar and a box of matches. A match flared in the mist of early dawn and lit up the cigar. I dropped the match to the pavement and stubbed it out with my shoe. For a while I stood there, trying to settle down my nerves, the cigar clenched in my mouth.

The mists had begun to lighten with the coming day when I pushed myself off the lamp post, continuing down the street. Some of the chill had left the air as well. As I walked, I pondered my next course of action. There were problems aplenty waiting for me. The fire that had devoured the creature at the Kochak’s - and their residence - was no doubt going to raise a few questions. At some point the authorities were going to be along to talk to me about it, given that I had been there a number of times of late and had done a job for them. They were questions I could do without.

The other creature was still out there as well, with the jewellery box, and unless I recovered it Sharky would be looking for me the following day. So would the creature who had been Mr Kochak as soon as it discovered what had happened to the other of its kind at the Kochak's place. Neither outcome appealed to me. Then there was the still missing Nathan Hanes and the mysterious Miss White. All in all, a heavy and disturbing load to bear.

An unexpected flare of light caught my attention, coming from above. I looked up. The mists above me parted and I saw another glimpse of those far off and exotic worlds that at times crop up. Just never before so frequently. That in itself was just as disturbing as everything else going on.

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On closer inspection, this one wasn't as exotic as most. I saw before me a street such as could be found anywhere, one with tall red brick buildings tightly packed on either side. The street itself was a simple dirt track, down the centre of which a flow of muddy water ran. Strung out across the street from the upper floors of the buildings to either side were ropes from which hung clothes to dry, the clothes not much more than rags.

My steps paused as I looked at the vision. It was a mundane, ordinary view, and that in itself made it extraordinary. All other times, the visions I had received were of places that you couldn't imagine living in, not in the state they were in, where as this, it could have been anywhere in Spire itself, if not for the dirt track down the middle of it. I frowned, and as I did, a thought came to me, one sparked off by the sight of the fluttering clothes hanging out to dry, of an option that until then I had not yet considered. I had not done so as I really had not thought that matters had gotten so bad as to require it. They had though. That meant it was time for a visit to the Rag Lady, the last choice for the truly desperate.

Before I took that trip though, there were other matters to attend to. I needed to wake up properly and get some grub into me if I was to feel anything like myself when I visited her. Going in at anything less than full mental capacity was not exactly a wise idea. You needed to be at the top of your wits when meeting the Rag Lady. Even then it was hard to get out with a complete understanding of what had gone on.

My weary step led me on to the local diner. It was already open when I arrived, to cater for the night people and the earlier risers and workers. Normally I wouldn't have counted myself among them. The place was empty when I entered, the bell on the door jangling as I did so. The only person inside was Delores, who ran the place. She was behind the counter, her dark hair done up in a bun and with a white apron over her blue dress.

Delores gave me a long, appraising look as I made my way over to the counter. "Morning Mister Stone. You look the worst for wear. Tea?"

"Thanks," I replied, slumping down on a stool at the counter and placing some coins down in front of me. "Strong and black. Two sugars for starters."

"Coming right up."

I stubbed out the remnants of the cigar in an ashtray on the counter while Delores set a mug down in front of me. Into it she poured tea out of a pot. Steam rose up from it, along with the scent of a fresh brew. I spooned two large mounds of sugar into the mug and stirred it in. Delores returned the pot to the stove to keep warm.

"You are up early," she said. "I can't recall you ever having been in here at this time of day."

I nodded as I picked up the mug, cradling it between my hands, soaking in the warmth of it. "Not the best of nights," I admitted.

"It looks like it," she told me. "Trouble sleeping?”

"Yes." I sipped from the mug, savouring the strong, sweet flavour of the tea, feeling it flow through my body and start to invigorate me. I had not fully recovered yet, but it was a start at least.

"Troubles with work?"

"Mostly, yeah. Can't really go into it though. It is far too likely to cause troubles to descend on any that I talk to about it."

"That bad?"

I nodded again, slowly, and set the mug back down on the counter. "Bad enough that I am off to see the Rag Lady."

Delores' eyes widened at the mention of the Rag Lady and her mouth opened in a surprised O. "As bad as that?" Then the more practical side of her came out. "Do you need breakfast?"

"Yeah, thanks. Load me up."

Delores gave me a smile and headed off to prepare a plate for me. I remained sitting, sipping at the tea from time to time as I let it go about its work of restoring me. The door jangled after a while and I turned towards it. A stout, hirsute dwarf came bustling in, a tool belt around his waist and his overalls dirty. Obviously he had finished up a night shift and had come in for a feed. He looked around the diner for a moment before sliding in behind one of the booths.

"One moment," Delores called out from where she was finishing cooking up my meal. She loaded it onto a plate and brought it across to me. After setting it down on the counter, she headed over to the dwarf to get his order.

I turned my attention to my meal, splashing brown sauce, salt and vinegar across the pile of food, the eggs and bacon and the rest of the fry up. It was a good, solid meal, typical of diners, and just what I needed. I ate slowly, taking sips of tea in between in. Delores filled up my mug again after I had finished the first one.

By the time I had cleaned off the plate and emptied the second mug, I felt a bit better. Not completely recovered, mind, but better than I had, at least enough to face the day ahead. I was more awake and less troubled. The shake had gone from hands as well and the headache had cleared up. I placed payment down on the counter and stood up from the stool.

"Thanks Delores."

"You are welcome, Mister Stone," Delores replied, smiling as ever. "Good luck with her."

A wry smile answered that. "I am going to need I think." And with that I headed out, to go and visit the Rag Lady.