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The wake for Trinity was held in some dingy hall in a low-rent cavern I had hired for the occasion. My budget wouldn't stretch to anything more elaborate and, besides, there were so few mourners that even this little place barely felt filled by the company. The surroundings were as depressing as the occasion and matched my mood precisely. I stood in the centre of the room, resisting the temptation to drink far too much and in any case barely able to taste the whiskey and water in the glass I held in my hand. Around me, the mourners were being offered finger food and a selection of alcoholic drinks by the caterers, waiters circulating endlessly with trays and bottles. Rosie and Gumshoe kept themselves to themselves, standing at the back of the room where their height and bulk would be less obvious. They were clearly unsure what to expect at a Goblin wake and politely determined not to cause any embarrassment or social gaffe. Few Goblins spoke to them. Most of the rest of the guests were old, very old even by Goblin standards. Trinity had no children, and neither did I and Nether, at least as far as I was aware. Both our parents were dead, so the place was filled - if that is the right word - with maiden aunts and aged uncles and second cousins. Across the room, I spotted Nether chatting quietly to some distant relative of my Mother's, the glass of light wine in his hand barely even touched and the blocky goons hovering discreetly in the background. Nether had fooled us all for a long time. He was clearly an agent for one of the more secret parts of Goblin federal government, and had managed to survive undercover in the human world for the best part of a hundred years. The sudden disappearance from mainstream society, the smelly drunk, the leprechaun mascot of a back-street Irish bar - it was all an act, a cover story. Nether's disguise had been entirely convincing, but now he was exposed. Too many people in the Lower Realms knew, or guessed, the truth. His part in Trinity's death was perhaps his biggest mistake; if he had followed my instruction, she might have been alive today. It was just as well the large Goblins in dark suits were standing close by, or I would have beaten him to a pulp with my bare hands. I raised my glass in a silent and ironic toast across the room, which Nether returned with a nod, then I turned away to accept the mumbled condolences from another relative I barely recognised. When next I looked, Nether and his heavies had completely disappeared.
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Part 101