You catch the night bus to Camden, getting out by the lock. You step off the bus and walk down the street mingling with the throngs of goths, students and homeless people that haunt these streets by day or night. A rastafarian steps in front of you, offering you a range of narcotics, but you continue walking purposefully and he gives up. Loud rock music blasts out of a pub as you pass, and a few drunken goths stand outside, sipping snakebite and black in the cool night air. You look at them casually. Their black clothing makes their already pale skin look almost ghostlike, and they could almost be vampires too. Perhaps they are.
You spot the alley Louise had directed you to, instantly recognising the shuttered up pawn shop and bookshop that sit either side of it. A few seconds later, and you have slipped down the narrow, cobbled alley. The alleyway opens up at the back of the shops into a small courtyard, where a group of around forty clubbers are queuing to be let in by the two meat-headded bouncers at the door. They are chatting to two young women at the front of the queue, seemingly oblivious to the slowly growing line of grumbling clubbers waiting impatiently behind them. You could be some time getting in. |