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said Tommy Oblivion. His voice was thoughtful and not at all threatening, as his gift manifested subtly on the still air. Tommy could be very persuasive when he chose to be. I don't know whether Sandra could feel what was happening, but she answered anyway, her cold green eyes locked on mine.
    "I used to investigate insurance fraud," she said. "And a cluster of unexplained suicides brought me to the Church of the Lamentation. We talked, and we… connected. I don't think it had ever met anyone like me, with my fetish for death."
    "Kindred spirits, who found each other in Hell," I said softly. "What did you do for the Lamentation, Sandra? What deal did you make with your devil?"
    "Your devil, my god," said Sandra Chance. "I became its Judas Goat, leading the suffering to their Saint, and it taught me the ways of the necromancer. It gave me what I'd always wanted. To lie down with death and rise up wreathed in power."
    "Of course," said Tommy, "such knowledge usually drives people insane. But you were functionally crazy to begin with."
    "Takes one to know one," said Sandra. "Now shut up, Tommy, or I'll do something amusing to you. You're only here on sufferance."
    "It was my plan!"
    "No," said Sandra. "This was always Walker's plan."
    "And you never gave a damn, for all the poor bastards you delivered to your nasty lover?" I said. "To die in despair, then linger in horror, bound even after death to the service of the Lamentation?"
    "They were weak," said Sandra. "They gave up. I never broke under the strain, never gave up. I save my help for those who deserve it."
    "Of course you didn't care," said Suzie Shooter. "You're even more heartless than I am. I'm going to enjoy killing you."
    "Enough talk," said Sandra. "It's time to dance the dance of life and death, little people. I shall raise all those who lie here because of you—John Taylor, Shotgun Suzie, Razor Eddie. All your victims gathered together in one place, with hate and vengeance burning in their cold, cold hearts. And they will drag you down into the cold wet earth and hold you there in their bony arms until finally… you stop screaming. Don't say I never did anything for you."
    She raised her arms high in the stance of summoning, and chanted ancient Words of Power. Energies crackled fiercely around her extended fingers… and nothing happened. The energies dissipated harmlessly on the freezing air, unable to come together. Sandra stood there awkwardly for a long moment, then slowly lowered her arms and looked about her, confused.
    "The Necropolis graveyard is protected by seriously heavy-duty magics," said Eddie, in his calm, ghostly voice. "I thought everyone knew that."
    "But the magics were supposed to have been suppressed!" said Sandra. "Walker promised me!"
    "That wasn't the deal!" said Tommy. "I wasn't told about any of this!"
    "You didn't need to know."
    There was a pleasant chiming sound, a brief shimmering on the air, and there was Walker, standing before us in his neat city suit and old-school tie. He smiled vaguely about him. "This… is a recording. I'm afraid I can't be here with you, on the grounds it might prove injurious to my health. By now you should have realised that the magics of this place have not been shut down, as promised, Sandra Chance. My apologies for the deception; but it was necessary. You see, this isn't just a trap for John Taylor; it's a trap for all of you. Taylor, Shooter, Oblivion, and Chance. I'm afraid you've all become far more trouble than you're worth. And I need to be free to concentrate on the Really Bad Thing that all my best precogs insist is coming. So the decision has been made to dispense with all of you. I have at least extracted a promise from the Authorities that after you've all killed each other, or the cemetery has killed you, your bodies will be buried here, free of charge. It's the least I could do. Good-bye, John. I am sorry it had to come to this. I protected you for as long as I could… but I've always