The Nekropolis Archives

by Tim Waggoner

  But she'd given me the distraction I needed.

  I rose to my feet, staggered toward Baron, and concentrating to make my uncoordinated left hand obey me, I removed the Loa necklace from around my neck. I knew I had only one shot at this, so – remembering how my bad hand now worked – I aimed for a point several inches to the left of Baron's head and threw the necklace. It flew through the air and while its trajectory was a bit lopsided, it looped over Baron's head and settled around his bleeding neck.

  Score!

  The effect was immediate. Baron's features twisted with anger. He dropped my arm and turned to face Henry. Frankenstein had been watching the fight with glee, but now a look of alarm came onto his face.

  "How could you do this?" Baron said, anguish in his voice. "We may have had our conflicts over the years, Father, but everything I've ever done, I did to make you proud of me, to prove myself worthy of the life you gave me! I can't believe that you hate me so much that you could harm so many people just to ruin me."

  Baron continued to walk toward Henry as he spoke and now the two men stood facing one another, creation to creator, son to father. The fear in Frankenstein's face gave way to pure loathing.

  "Believe it," he snarled.

  Baron gave his father a last sorrowful look before ripping Osseal free from the scientist's chest. Henry cried out in pain as Baron tossed the now bloody flute aside and the song of Osseal which had accompanied Henry's breathing was silenced.

  Frankenstein gave his creation a final defiant glare.

  "Go ahead. Do it."

  Baron nodded sadly, took hold of his father's head in both hands with a surprisingly gentle touch, and then with a single swift motion tore Henry's head from his shoulders. Frankenstein's body fell to the ground, blood pumping from both neck and chest wounds, but Baron paid it no mind. He held Henry's head so he could look upon his father's face as the light dimmed in his eyes and finally went out, taking the hatred with it, leaving nothing but a dull emptiness. Then Baron clasped the head to his chest and began to cry.

  EIGHTEEN

  A day later, Devona and I sat on the couch in the great room of the Midnight Watch, illusory fire burning in the hearth, Rover moving around us as playful gusts of air, the ward spirit occasionally tousling our hair to get our attention. My right arm was back where it should be, thanks to Victor Baron, who'd also adjusted my left hand. The rest of the damage I'd sustained over the last couple days had been repaired by Papa Chatha. I sat with my arm around Devona, her head – blonde again – resting on my shoulder. It might not have been as cozy as a family room in a little ranch house back on Earth, but it would do.

  I was dressed in my usual suit and tie. Bogdan's coat was sitting at a tailor's, waiting for the sleeve to be repaired. Though I hadn't admitted it to Devona, the coat had kind of grown on me, and I was reluctant to throw it away. Not that I'd ever wear it again, but I supposed I could find room for it in my closet somewhere.

  "It was nice of everyone to drop by and congratulate me on being a free man again," I said.

  "Even Bogdan?" Devona asked in a teasing voice.

  "Even him," I said, and I almost sounded like I meant it. Who knows? Maybe I did. After all, he had helped Devona and the others break me out of Tenebrus, and he'd accepted a Dominari tongue worm to do so, just like everyone else. And he'd loaned me his old coat. It was hard to hate the guy after all that.

  "I'm glad none of them was seriously injured in the rioting," she said.

  "Me too."

  Most of our friends – those who worked at the Midnight Watch and our other friends around town – had survived the attack of Baron's creatures relatively unscathed. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for hundreds of other citizens who'd been caught up in the violence.

  "It's good of Baron to offer to repair and reanimate anyone who was injured in the riot, free of charge," Devona said. "Especially since the violence wasn't his fault."

  "He's an honorable man," I said. "I'm sure he sees it as the least he can do. Besides, staying busy might help keep his mind off what happened." I thought about the way Baron had cried as he clutched his father's head. "At least a little," I added.

  Devona snuggled close to me. "I feel sorry for him. I know what it's like to have a father who doesn't approve of you."

  I tightened my arm around her shoulder. Devona changed the subject then and I pretended not to notice.

  "I'm glad Quillion dismissed the charges against you when Victor Baron told him about Henry being the one who engineered the theft of Osseal. But I was surprised when he took Henry's body into custody."

  Quillion had asked Baron to pack Henry's head and body in separate refrigeration units and then shipped them to Tenebrus where – so I'd heard – Keket had them placed in separate sections of maximum security far away from each other.

  "Frankenstein's a genius when it comes to reanimating the dead," I said. "I guess Quillion didn't want to take any chances on his coming back."

  "But if Henry's that dangerous – which I definitely believe he is – then why not destroy his body?"

  "I don't know. Maybe Quillion wants to keep Frankenstein on ice in case his knowledge is needed again someday. You know the Darklords and their servants, always scheming. But to tell you the truth, I wouldn't be surprised if Baron asked Quillion to spare his old man."

  "You're probably right," Devona said. "I just hope we all don't come to regret his mercy one day."

  I'd been to Tenebrus and I wanted to tell Devona that there was nothing to worry about. But then again, I'd escaped, hadn't I? And given how devious Frankenstein was, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that he'd foreseen his incarceration and taken steps to ensure his eventual freedom and resurrection. Burke and Hare had disappeared after Henry's defeat, and while Quillion had put bounties on their heads, so far, there had been no sign of the bodysnatching duo.

  I decided that was a problem for another day. I had one of my own to resolve just then.

  "I've been thinking," I said. "About the business."

  "Yes?" Devona said, her tone carefully neutral.

  I paused to choose my words carefully. "I know you see the Midnight Watch as the first major project we took on together… as a couple, I mean. And I love you, Devona. It's just–"

  "You like your freedom too much to commit to the Watch full time," she said.

  "Yes, but that doesn't mean I don't want to commit to you. Do you see the difference?"

  "I do now." She smiled. "It helps that I can read your mind, you know. You really aren't very good at talking about this kind of thing."

  I hadn't realized how tense I'd been until I felt myself relax.

  "Whatever works," I said.

  "Maybe we should make that our new motto," she said.

  "I can think of worse ones."

  We sat there quietly for a time, watching the fire and feeling the breeze as Rover circled invisibly around us. After a time, Devona spoke again, her voice so soft I could barely hear her.

  "Do you still think about what we experienced inside Orlock's stasis field?"

  "Yes," I admitted. "They still feel real to me, even though I know they weren't."

  I didn't have to say who they were.

  A few more moments passed before Devona spoke again. She sat up and faced me and I knew whatever she wanted to tell me it was important.

  "I know it's not physically possible for us to have children of our own. I'm half undead and you're all the way dead, but I was thinking maybe we could adopt. One day."

  I was married once back on Earth, but my ex and I had never had kids. I'd grown used to the idea that fatherhood wasn't on the cards for me – especially once I became a zombie. But after what we'd experienced in Orlock's dome, I wasn't so sure what was and wasn't possible anymore.

  "It would be a lot of responsibility," I said.

  "A big commitment," she added. "Do you think you could handle it?" She looked at me hopefully.

  My first impulse w
as to say yes just to please her, but this was too important. She deserved a serious answer. We'd only been together a few months, and we weren't even officially married yet. On the other hand, I'd never been with anyone like Devona before. We matched in a way I'd never thought possible and our ability to communicate psychically had bonded us deeply in a short period of time. But raising a child is tough under the best conditions, and doing so in Nekropolis? We had a hard enough time keeping ourselves alive sometimes. If we had a child to protect…

  I started to give Devona my answer, but then I realized something was wrong. She'd stopped moving and her eyes weren't blinking. At first I feared she'd somehow succumbed to some sort of after effect of Orlock's stasis field, but then a worse thought hit me. What if we were still inside the stasis dome and everything we'd experienced since then had been nothing but another illusion?

  "Don't worry," came a soft male voice. "Devona's fine. I just wanted a chance to speak with you in private."

  I turned toward the sound of the voice and saw a man climb out of the fireplace. The flames hadn't touched him since they were illusory, but I knew that even if they'd been the real thing they still wouldn't have harmed him. It was Edrigu, Lord of the Dead.

  I rose to my feet to meet the gray shrouded man as he strode into the room. A violent gust of wind blasted Edrigu and I knew that Rover was preparing to deal with what he saw as an intruder.

  "Down boy," I told the ward spirit. "He's a friend."

  I had no idea if this was a friendly visit or not, but Edrigu was so powerful he could destroy Rover in an eyeblink without exerting himself. It took Rover a few seconds to back down, but the wind died away. Rover didn't retreat, though. I could feel the ward spirit hanging close by in case he was needed.

  "I see you've rejoined the world of the living," I said. "So to speak."

  Edrigu smiled at me. "The events of the last couple days caused quite a disturbance in the city's psychic atmosphere, Enough to penetrate the Darklords' slumber and wake us." His voice was the sound of a breeze wafting through a deserted graveyard in the dead of night.

  "Too bad your alarm didn't go off earlier," I said. "You missed all the fun."

  "I believe that was Dr. Frankenstein's intention," Edrigu said.

  I saw the chain around the Darklord's neck, though Osseal itself was hidden from sight beneath his shroud.

  "Looks like you got your flute back."

  "Yes. Quillion removed Osseal from the Foundry and held it until I awoke, at which time I reclaimed it. I've come to thank you for getting it back for me, and more importantly, for stopping Dr. Frankenstein from misusing it so grievously."

  I'd interacted more with the other four Darklords than I had with Edrigu and I found his lack of megalomaniacal posturing to be refreshing.

  "I have to admit that there was more than a little self-interest to my motives, but you're welcome. And not that you've come looking for my advice, but if I were you, I'd give some serious thought to revamping the Reliquary's security. All Frankenstein needed to gain entrance to your bedchamber was this mark."

  I held up the hand with the scar tissue E on the palm.

  "That mark is intended for quite a different purpose," Edrigu said. "It took someone of Dr. Frankenstein's uncommon intelligence, not to mention deviousness, to turn it to a criminal purpose. Still, your point is well taken, and I'll make certain my private chambers are secure from all intrusion in the future."

  "Speaking of your mark, Silent Jack gave it to me without explaining its purpose. Which, considering his name, isn't all that surprising. But since you're here…"

  Edrigu nodded. "It's the last I can do to repay you. Jack is one of my best servants and one of his most important tasks is to find the dead wherever they might be in the city and give them my mark. Once they possess it, they are free to enter the Reliquary whenever they wish, allowing them to access my mirror and – should they choose to step through – to what waits for them on the other side."

  This realization stunned me and for a moment all I could do was look at Edrigu.

  "You mean it doesn't mark me as one of your servants?" I asked.

  Edrigu smiled. "No. I already have enough of those. But if you're interested…"

  "Nothing personal, but no thanks." I was still struggling to come to terms with what Edrigu had told me. The mark on my hand would allow me to enter his stronghold and pass through his dark mirror to the afterlife – whatever that might be. "Why give me the mark and not tell me what it means?"

  "Some of the dead instinctively understand what the mark signifies. Others take longer to work it out. It all depends on whether or not they're ready – or interested – in moving on to the next realm of existence. Each must find the way to my mirror in his or her own time, which is as it should be. But now that you know, you are free to pass through whenever you choose."

  I looked at Devona. "I appreciate the free ticket to the afterlife, but I don't have any intention of leaving Nekropolis any time soon."

  "As you wish. My mirror will be waiting for you if you ever change your mind."

  "Tell me one thing, though," I said, curious. "What is on the other side of your mirror?"

  Edrigu grinned, displaying small rounded teeth that looked like two rows of ivory gravestones. "Sorry. That would be cheating."

  I thought that the Lord of the Dead would take his leave then, returning to the fireplace like some dark version of Santa Claus going back up the chimney. But instead he said, "I have something I wish to give you. A reward for the service you rendered to me, and indeed, to the entire city. Hold out your hand."

  I did so and an instant later a coin appeared on my palm. I held it up to my face to examine it. The coin was copper, incredibly old, its features worn so smooth that I couldn't make them out.

  I looked at Edrigu. "Don't tell me this is a tip."

  Edrigu smiled. "Of a sort, I suppose. That is one of Charon's coins. In Greek mythology, the dead have to pay Charon the ferryman to take them across the River Styx to the land of the dead. But once the coins have been touched by Charon they can be used to purchase a single day of life. You have but to grip the coin tight, wish it, and you will be become a living, breathing man for a single twenty-four hour time period. But be warned: you can only use the coin once, and afterward, you can never use another."

  I stared at the coin, unable to believe what Edrigu had told me. To be alive again, if only for one day…

  "I will take my leave of you now," Edrigu said. "As you might imagine, many tasks have piled up while I've been asleep that I must attend to, and of course my fellow Lords will undoubtedly soon be returning to their endless intrigues, and I must prepare to deal with them." He started to go, then paused. "One thing more. Just before I appeared, I overheard part of your conversation with Devona. There are many things a man might accomplish with one day of life." He gave me a knowing smile. "Including siring a child."

  The Lord of the Dead gave me a parting nod, turned, and walked back into the fireplace and was gone. I stared at the flickering flames for a moment and then I heard Devona say, "Well? Can you?"

  I remembered the last words she'd spoken before Edrigu had frozen her.

  A big commitment. Do you think you could handle it?

  I turned to see her frowning.

  "Weren't you just sitting next to me?" she asked.

  I looked at Charon's coin one last time before tucking it into my pocket and rejoining Devona on the couch.

  "To answer your question, my love, I think I can handle it just fine."

  She gave me a look filled with love and we kissed.

  You know something? I have a pretty good life for a dead guy. And thanks to Lord Edrigu – and the coin he'd given me – I had a feeling that it was soon going to get even better.

  A SHORT STORY

  ZOMBIE INTERRUPTED

  I made my way down a sidewalk in Ruination Row, moving with a stiff-legged gait that was only a little faster than standing still. It had b
een a couple weeks since my last round of preservative spells, and I was overdue for a little freshening up. One of the nice things about being a zombie is that, when your bouquet begins to ripen, people give you a wide berth, so I didn't have to worry about shoving my way through the crowd of pedestrians. The Darkfolk that had come to patronize the less-than-savory businesses in the Row stepped aside as I approached, the Bloodborn and Lykes grimacing as their heightened sense of smell picked up my scent.