He spoke, and the flames danced and spun, spun and danced...

No, I wasn't channeling my inner poet. I read that in a book once. In a poem, I'm sure. I think.

But I'd seen better.

'Very impressive bug-zapper,' I said with a smile. 'But isn't it a bit much, Stark?'

He turned to glare at me. It didn't do his scarred patchwork face any favour. Some people really should smile more.

'Why don't you drag your ass here and say that to my face? I can't see maggots eat a guy from the inside out then smile and nod.'

I shook my head. 'You haven't been here too long, have you? Such things happen, in the Nightside.'

'We're not in the Nightside anymore, smartass. Why don't you take a look at the sky with your detective eyes and detect it's empty?'

'I can't see through buildings, Stark. So, unless-'

'Jesus,' comes a growling voice from behind me. Jason. 'Can you two stop comparing sizes? Taylor, not all of us are used to freakshows like this. Stark, get a damn hold of yourself.'

Dresden lets his shield fade away. 'He's right. We can't lose ourselves in a place like this, or we'll all die.'

'Yes, Daddy,' Slim batted his eyelashes at Dresden. "Anything you say. Oh, I don't want to be spanked~"

Suzie cleared her throat. 'Get a room, you too. The rest, let's get a move on. I haven't shot something in a while.'

'You don't have incendiaries,' Chris pointed out helpfully. 'Or you'd have used them outside. You should save your ammo, Ms. Shooter.'

It's been some time since anyone has called Suzie "miss". While I stifled a laugh, I heard a pained groan behind me. Eddie.

Dammit. How could I forget about him and get distracted by some stupid banter? I turned and ran to him, helping the grey god up. He let me do it, despite his earlier, unexplained anger at me. Must have been really hurt.

'Don't think you're forgiven, Taylor,' he rasped. 'Nothing you can do... will redeem...'

'What, Eddie? What have I done? Talk to me, man.'

He nodded, eyes clearing, as if he hadn't thought about that. 'Yes... you're from the Past. Not yet... not yet. I haven't explained it...'

'It's ok,' Slim said, hands in his coat pockets. 'I'm sure you just had a bug in your throat.'

I turned my head to glare at him, but Dresden talked before I can. 'What is wrong with you? Did you see what happened to him?'

'I did, yes. I happened to have my eyes with me at the time. Nifty stuff. Thumbs up to the inventor.'

'More importantly,' I said pointedly. 'This is Razor Eddie. He may be in something of a bind, but he's still the punk god of the straight razor.'

Slim smiled nastily. 'And I used to be the Devil.'

Well, what can you say to that? We all stared at him with varying degrees of disbelief, except Chris, who narrowed his eyes. Not sure why they were so surprised. You get all sorts of crazies, in the Nightside.

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If Slim had been Lucifer once, then I was the future King of the Nightside.

'Whatever,' Suzie said. 'We won't achieve anything by sitting on our hands here. I'm going out. If anyone finds his balls, he can come.'

Slim grinned. 'I'd love to come with you.'

And that was that. Jason offered to rip the door off, but Chris shook his head, covered a hand in some purple energy and cut through it like a knife through air.

Wonder what that was.

We walked out into the ruined city, but the bugs were gone. Oh, not truly gone-hiding in the shadows, waiting to ambush us. But nothing attacked us. Just as well. It would have bugged me.

Eddie seemed confused at being out in the open, looking around in a daze. He looked... naked, vulnerable, without his namesake straight razor. Who could have taken it from him?

'John,' Joanna started. 'Can you find a way back?'

I shook my head. 'It doesn't work like that. I need specific questions to get answers from my gift.'

Slim looked ready to say something quite insulting, but Joanna talked before he could. And I had a slap in my pocket for him, too...

'Does anyone else have a way to get us back to the Nightside?' She asked, sounding remarkably calm. Quite impressive, really, for a woman who had never come to the Nightside.

Everyone shook their heads...except Dresden. 'I...  may have a way to get us back to the Nightside. Or, rather, a Way.'

'That won't be necessary, good sir,' A new voice said. 'I'll take you home, after our business is done.'

We turned to look behind us, and there, in his lack of glory, was the Collector. A short, fat, middle-aged man, the Collector had once been known as Mark. But that had been before he had started his hobby-or obsession, depending who you asked.

He had also once been a friend of my father, Charles Taylor. A friend of mine, too. I used to call him uncle Mark.

Nowadays, he travelled the Nightside and beyond, collecting rare, unique objects. Not to sell them to a museum, or let visitors come see them for an extortionate fee, but just to have them, for himself. Like a dragon with his hoard.

I gave him my best glare. 'Why are you here, Collector? Or, rather, how are you here? Do you have a teleporter now?'

He looked me in a pitying sort of way. 'I didn't teleport, Taylor. I time-travelled. This is... was the Nightside, but not anymore. This... is the future you created.'

Everyone muttered to themselves, or each other. I stepped forward, unwilling to let him see how upset I was.

'Heard that one already, Collector. Why are you here?'

The Collector smiled broadly, but looked past me. 'Not for you, Taylor.'