A figure appeared suddenly at the far end of the alley, standing silhouetted against the glaring neon, and I stopped dead in my tracks. For a moment my heart slammed painfully against my chest, and I forgot how to breathe. The last time I'd walked down this alley, I'd been ambushed by my enemies. The faceless horrors of the Harrowing had come for me, and I'd only escaped with the help of my old friend Razor Eddie. Of course, he'd been the one who set me up for the ambush; but that's friends for you, in the Nightside.

But this time there was only the one figure, with a distinctly female silhouette, and as she started down the dark alleyway towards me, a soft golden glow appeared around her, lighting her way. She was exceedingly blonde and pretty, and almost overpoweringly voluptuous, moving with easy grace in her own pool of light. Marilyn Monroe, in her glorious prime, in her iconic white halter dress. Not a look-alike or a double, but indisputably the real thing, wrapped in glamour, bursting with life and laughter, just like in her films. Sweet and sexy Marilyn, walking in her own spotlight.

She came to a halt before me, and smiled dazzlingly. She smelted of sex and sweat and sandal-wood, of roses and rot, and though her smile was a inviting as ever, there was no matching warmth in her eyes.

"Hello, sugar," she said, in a voice like a caress. "I'm so glad I found you. I've got a message for you."

"That's nice," I said, carefully non-commital.

She laughed her famous laugh, wrinkled her nose at me, and handed me a long white envelope with the tips of her fingers. "This is for you, sweetie. Inside the envelope, there's a blank cheque! Signed by Mr. Hughes himself. He wants the Unholy Grail for his collection. All you have to do is find it for him, and you can fill in the cheque for whatever amount you like. Isn't that generous of him?"

"Pardon me for asking?" I said. "But aren't you dead?"

She laughed huskily and tossed her head. Her wavy hair moved in slow sensuous waves. Being bathed in the glow of her open sexuality was like staring into a blast furnace.

"Oh, that wasn't me. Howard looks after his friends."

"I rather thought he was dead too."

"Men that rich don't die, sugar. Not if they don't want to. They just move to another plane, for tax reasons. He's mixing with some really powerful people these days."

"People?"

"Loosely speaking."

I weighed the envelope in my hands thoughtfully. I'd never been offered a blank cheque before. I was tempted. But... I smiled regretfully at Marilyn.

"Sorry, dear. I already have a client. I'm spoken for."

"I'm sure Mr. Hughes can match any offer..."

"It isn't the money. I gave my word."

"Oh. Are you sure ... I couldn't do anything to persuade you?"

She took a deep breath, and her breasts seemed to surge towards me. I was finding it hard to breath "I'm probably going to hate myself in the morning," I said finally, "but I have to say no. My services are for sale, but I'm not."