by Tim Waggoner
"The woman gave me a knowing wink.
"'See something you like?' she said in voice seasoned by too many cigarettes and too much whisky.
"'Too much,' I said, my own voice husky with barely suppressed need, and for perhaps the thousandth time since I'd found myself condemned to the hellish nightmare that was Nekropolis, I cursed my undead existence, I cursed my undead desires. I loathe this city, but not nearly as much as I loathe the monstrous thing I've become."
I'd had enough. I rose from the couch and swiftly turned off the Mind's Eye set, eliciting disappointed groans from the others.
"C'mon, Matt!" Scorch said. "It was just getting good!"
Bogdan was grinning so wide I thought his face might break. "That was a fascinating glimpse of the master at work. I had no idea you were such a tortured soul, Matt."
Devona's grin was just as big. "And I never knew you had a thing for well-padded brunettes."
"But that's not how it happened! I mean, it is what happened, but that's not what I was thinking at the time. For godsakes, you all know I'm not a flesh-eater!"
"Maybe you've just been suppressing the urge," Tavi said, grinning like the rest of them. "No need to feel ashamed. I'm a lyke; I understand."
I scowled at him, then turned to look at Varney. The vampire didn't even have the good grace to at least pretend to be embarrassed.
"Nothing personal, but my producer thought the footage of you tracking down Argus was a bit on the, uh, dry side. So he decided to spice it up a bit with the voiceover. He used a speech synthesizer to make it sound like you. Turned out great, huh?"
"Look, I don't know what journalistic standards you Darkfolk practice – if any – but back on Earth, a documentary is supposed to be nonfiction. Heavy emphasis on the non!"
Varney shrugged. "Sure, but that doesn't mean it can't be entertaining too, right?"
I sensed Acantha's hand in this. She'd love nothing more than to get back at me for how I'd humiliated her during her live broadcast, and it looked like she'd finally found a way.
"Can we watch some more?" Shamika asked, almost shyly. "It was fun."
"No, we cannot," I told her, then I turned to look at the others. "We're supposed to be trying to find Papa Chatha, remember?" I told them of Bogdan's failed attempt to mystically trace Papa. I thought Shamika would be disappointed, but she displayed no reaction to the news. I told myself that she probably hadn't expected Bogdan's spell to work, but I still found her lack of expression odd.
"So what do we do next?" Scorch asked.
Tavi spoke up. "I can dash over to Papa's and see if I can pick up a scent trail to follow. I'll give you a call if I find anything." Before any of us could respond, Tavi started to change. Patches of fur and scales covered his flesh, and his limbs became long and flexible as if they were made of rubber. His mouth and nose elongated into a canine snout, his eyes became yellow and serpent-like, and a reptilian hood spread out from his head. Tavi was a mixblood, a lyke who'd used genetic engineering to alter his wildform. He was a combination of mongoose and cobra, and while I had no idea which had been his original wildform, the combination of the two made him most formidable. Speed, strength, cunning, agility – he had them in abundance.
When Tavi said he intended to dash over to Papa's, he'd meant it literally. He ran out of the room so fast he was little more than a blur of motion, and the wind kicked up by his swift exit was strong enough to rival any gust that Rover could produce.
When Tavi was gone, Bogdan stroked his beard in thought. "I'll make some discreet inquiries among my contacts in the Arcane community here in the Sprawl. Perhaps some of them can provide insight into the disappearances of the magic-users."
"Sounds good," I said. "And Devona and I will go straight to the top."
Devona frowned. "Why do I not like the sound of that? Are you suggesting we talk to–"
"Varvara," I finished for her. "Yep. After all, right now she's the chief suspect in the disappearances. The only suspect, really."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Devona asked. "Varvara likes you well enough, but her attention is going to be focused on preparing a retaliation against Talaith for destroying the bridges. Even if she's behind the disappearances and Talaith was justified in her attack, Varvara can't let her aggression go unanswered. I doubt the Demon Queen will be in the mood to receive visitors."
"Maybe not," I admitted. "But when have I ever let the fact that someone didn't want to talk with me ever stop me from talking with them?"
Devona smiled. "Good point."
"If you two are planning on going to Demon's Roost, then I should accompany you," Scorch said. I started to protest, but Scorch cut me off. "The Demonkin are going to be upset over the Weyward Sisters' attack. Neither of you are Arcane, so their anger won't necessarily be directed at you, but once my people get stirred up, they can be like a nest of angry hornets. They'll sting anyone unlucky enough to get in their way. Having a demon escort might make things go more smoothly for you."
I wanted to tell her that Devona and I could handle ourselves just fine without her help, but I had to admit the precaution she suggested was a sensible one.
"All right. And that leaves just one detail to attend to." I turned to Shamika. "We could drop you off at your home."
It was a given that Shamika wouldn't be accompanying us to Varvara. I wouldn't take a kid to Demon's Roost at the best of times, and I certainly had no intention of taking her there while Varvara might be preparing for war. But I didn't like the idea of the girl going home by herself, either. Traversing the streets of the Sprawl is always an iffy proposition safety-wise, and having a whole lot of pissed-off demons running around wasn't going to make them any safer – especially for a young Arcane woman.
Shamika looked at me for a moment, and I had the feeling that she was at loss for how to answer. But then she said, "I'm too worried about Uncle to go home. I need to know what happened to him."
Devona scooted closer to Shamika and put a sympathetic hand on the girl's arm. My better half may have been raised in a Darklord's stronghold, but she's one of the kindest souls I've ever met. She can also kick major ass when she wishes, making her the woman who has it all, as far as I'm concerned.
"I'd feel the same way if I were in your position," Devona said. "Why don't you stay here? The rest of us will be gone for a while, but the Midnight Watch is one of the most secure places in the city."
"And Rover will be here to watch you," I added.
"We'll make sure to call you as soon as we learn anything," Devona finished.
Shamika didn't even think about it. "I'd rather go with you." She hurried on before we could say anything. "I don't think I could stand to just sit around here by myself waiting. And it's not like I can't take care of myself. I am Arcane, you know."
But you're just a teenager, I thought, but I didn't say it. Regardless of appearances, everything and everyone in Nekropolis is dangerous in one way or another. You have to be in order to survive from one tick of the clock to the next. Just because Shamika looked sweet and innocent didn't mean she couldn't be lethal when she had to. Scorch's teenage girl guise was a perfect example.
I looked at Devona and she looked at me. This time I didn't have to access our telepathic link to know what she was thinking. Devona smiled at Shamika.
"OK, honey, but stick close to us," she said. "All right?"
Shamika smiled gratefully and nodded.
I hoped Shamika really could take care of herself and that Devona wasn't letting her burgeoning maternal instincts get the best of her.
"All right then," I said, turning to Scorch. "Take us to your leader."
EIGHT
We saw no sign of Lazlo when we stepped outside, so I figured he was still tending to his cab. Besides, the only times he's sure to show up is when I'm truly desperate for a ride, and as much as I wanted to get to Demon's Roost, our current situation wasn't exactly a dire one. Bogdan said farewell and headed off on foot to track down whateve
r Arcane sources he intended to consult, and I can't say I was sorry to see him go. After a few moments of discussion, the rest of us decided to follow suit and take shanks' mare, as some of the longer-lived Darkfolk put it, and we headed down the sidewalk, traveling east in the general direction of Demon's Roost.
Varney was thrilled. "Righteous! There's more chance of getting good footage if we hoof it!"
I didn't reply. I was still mad at him for the "improved" video he'd shown us earlier. And, truth to tell, I was a little depressed, too. Without realizing it, I'd kind of gotten used to being a celebrity in town, but seeing how Varney's producer had felt the need to noirify the footage Varney had shot of me made me realize that maybe my unvarnished life wasn't all that fascinating after all. Being brought back down to earth was probably a good thing, if sobering.
We hadn't gone far when my hand vox rang – actually, its mouth called out the words "Ring-ring, ring-ring!" – and I answered. It was Tavi.
"I'm at Papa Chatha's," he said. His voice was guttural and hard to understand, and I knew he was still in his wildform. "I can't get inside because of the security spells on the place, but I've sniffed around outside. It was hard to pick up Papa's scent, not because he hasn't been here for a while but because you've been here recently. Nothing personal, but the scent of ripe zombie tends to be a bit overpowering."
"But you found a scent trail."
"Yes. There's another scent mingled with it that I don't recognize, though it's similar to certain breeds of Demonkin. I don't know what it is, but I'm going to attempt to follow the trail and see what I can turn up."
"All right, but if you find him, call me before you do anything." I'd come to respect Tavi's skills, but Devona had hired him not because he was a fighter but because he was a reformed thief. He'd stolen something from the notorious demon Mammon who hired me to retrieve the object. I'd done so after a certain amount of highly skilled detecting, but in the process I learned that Tavi was a decent enough sort who stole primarily for the sport and challenge of it. It had taken some swift talking on my part to convince Mammon not to devour Tavi's soul for his crime. In the end, Mammon reluctantly agreed to spare Tavi, and Devona offered the lyke a job working for the Midnight Watch. His knowledge of thievery, coupled with his contacts among Nekropolis' criminal element, had proved invaluable to Devona's business, but as swift and clever as Tavi was, he wasn't a warrior, and if he did manage track down Papa and the other missing magic-users, I didn't want him to try to deal with the situation on his own. I'd already saved his mixblood ass once, and I didn't want to have to do it again.
Tavi promised he'd do as I asked, then hung up, and I imagined him racing away from Papa's shack, following the scent trail at top supernatural speed. I tucked my vox back in my pocket, relayed Tavi's report to the others, and we continued walking.
There were still plenty of people crowding the sidewalks, and traffic roared by in the street at suicidal speeds, but the atmosphere in the Sprawl was noticeably subdued. The pedestrians were quieter than usual, continuously casting furtive glances about and keeping their hands in their pockets, no doubt grasping a weapon or two. There were fewer vehicles than normal in the street, and those that passed by were more often than not armored – or encased in force fields of magical or technological origin. Hood, roof, and side-mounted weapons were prominent, everything from machine guns to rocket launchers, energy blasters to curse throwers. The threat of open warfare in the Sprawl might not have been enough to keep the diehard partiers indoors, but it had made them more cautious. The Sprawl was already a powder keg most of the time, and Talaith's destruction of the bridges had lit the fuse. The only question was how long it would take to burn down and ignite an explosion.
We'd gotten maybe halfway to Demon's Roost when that question was answered. There were two popular dance clubs on either side of the street here: Overhexed, which catered primarily to Arcane clientele, and Disco Infernal, a demonic hotspot. But the action wasn't confined to the clubs' interiors tonight. Revelers from both places had taken to the street, where they stood in two groups, facing each other. And from the way they were shouting and gesturing, I knew that they hadn't met for a civilized crosscultural exchange. Traffic had been blocked off at one end of the street by a barrier of mystic flame, while a jagged line of sharp bonelike projections protruded from the asphalt at the other end. It seemed that neither the demons nor the magic-users wanted anyone to interrupt their little get-together.
The sidewalks on both sides of the street were deserted here. Evidently our fellow pedestrians possessed stronger survival instincts than us and had gotten the hell away at the first sign of trouble. I figured it would be wise of us to follow suit, and I motioned for everyone in our group to stop.
"I think we should quickly and quietly retrace our steps, then cut over a couple streets and take a nice wide detour around this block," I said.
"I like that idea," Devona said softly, never taking her eyes off the shouting demons and magic-users. "I like it very much."
The two groups were an eclectic mix of their kinds. Many of the Arcane were dressed in standard Nekropolitan street clothes, but some wore period costumes: medieval robes, stark Puritan outfits, Arabian finery, Native American deerskins, Aztec capes, stage magician tuxedos or sparkling gowns, and a good number of them carried wooden or metal staves with lux crystals affixed to the ends. The demons varied more in their physical forms. Some were the standard diabolic type, like Scorch's true shape, while others were bizarre amalgams of different animals: insects combined with fish, mammals with lizards, birds with crustaceans and so on… Some of the demons wore ethnic garb that indicated which human mythology they belonged to – Chinese, Japanese, Inuit, Persian, Egyptian, Hindu – while some appeared so alien that their shapes not only defied description, they defied perception. Creatures that appeared to be made of a series of floating transdimensional geometric shapes that seemed to warp in and out of existence, and others that were purely conceptual in nature. I saw one demon I recognized as Schadenfreude, and another that was Antidisestablishmentarianism.
But despite the two groups' striking differences, they had one important thing in common: they clearly loathed one another, and given the aggressive way they were acting, I knew it would only be a matter of moments until…
A heavily tattooed Arcane man wearing a dragonskin jacket raised his hands and began chanting a spell in a language I didn't recognize. The words seemed to echo in the air, and despite the fact that I have no nerve endings in my ears, it hurt to hear those words spoken aloud. A few seconds later, a half-dozen other Arcane joined in, and soon all of the magic-users stood chanting, hands raised toward the sky.
The Demonkin's reaction to the spell was dramatic. They fell back several steps, roaring and hissing, shrinking in upon themselves and averting their gazes as if it was too painful to look upon the faces of the chanting Arcane.
"What's happening?" I turned to Scorch, hoping she might be able to tell me, but she didn't respond. She stood there with her hands pressed over her ears, eyes squinted closed, jaws clenched tight, as if she were trying to shut out the world – or perhaps just the Arcanes' chanting.
"The magic-users are attempting a binding spell!" Devona said.
I understood what was going on then, but I had a hard time believing it. The enmity between Demonkin and Arcane goes back centuries, back to before the Darkfolk left Earth and emigrated to Nekropolis, when witches, warlocks, and wizards would attempt to summon demons, bind them to their will, and enslave them. Having a powerful creature like a demon to command was an attractive prospect for a magic-user, but you can see how a demon would find the arrangement less than appealing. After the founding of Nekropolis, slavery of any sort was outlawed by Dis and the Darklords, more as a practical matter than for any other reason. It's hard enough to keep the peace in a city full of monsters without having to worry about them running around constantly trying to enslave one another. The prohibition against slavery includ
ed the summoning and binding of demons, but the fact that it was now a major crime didn't seem to deter these Arcane in the least, and I doubted any of them considered what they were doing as breaking the law. After all, war was in the offing between Glamere and the Sprawl, and people – Darkfolk or human – are only too willing to suspend the rule of law during wartime… especially when it gives them an excuse to indulge the darker side of their nature.
