by Tim Waggoner
Carl and Fade kept their mouths shut, but they were clearly unhappy about it.
I'd come here hoping that Skully could give me a lead on someone who could help me track down Maggie. I hadn't expected Skully himself to have the knowledge I needed. This had turned out better than I'd hoped.
Before he could say anything more, though, the bar's iron door opened and the two biker vampires walked back inside. The sparkly kid wasn't with them, and they were covered in copious amounts of blood – far more than one skinny teenager should've been able to contain.
One of the vampires looked at me, and his upper lip curled in a disdainful snarl.
"Now that we cleared that punk out, let's do Skully another favor and get rid of that stinking deader."
The second vampire grinned in agreement.
I looked at Skully and he shrugged in apology. "Sorry, Matt. They're new here."
"Don't worry about it," I said.
I rose from my seat as the biker vampires stomped across the floor over to me. One of them gave Varney a disgusted look.
"What are you doin' hanging out with a goddamn zombie?" the vampire said. "You're Bloodborn. You're better than that."
Varney pursed his lips and the light in his cyber-eye turned an angry red, but otherwise he didn't react.
"This goddamn zombie has a name, you know," I said evenly.
The first vampire grinned at me, displaying his fangs. "Look, Marlon, it talks!"
Marlon said, "What do you know, Brando? I thought all deaders could do was walk around moaning while they look for somebody's brain to munch on."
"This one must be like some kind of genius of the living dead!" Brando said, and laughed.
I looked at them. "Marlon and Brando? Seriously?"
They scowled, and now both bared their fangs at me.
"You say you got a name, deader," Marlon asked. "What is it?"
Using my left hand, I drew my 9mm, aimed, and squeezed off two shots. The vampires' mouths exploded in twin showers of blood and broken teeth. They staggered backward, then fell to their knees and doubled over, blood streaming out of their ruined mouths and splattering onto the concrete floor.
"Fuck You's my name," I said. "But you can call me Mister Fuck You."
"The way you took care of those two loud-mouthed vampires was totally awesome!" Shamika said.
"Totally stupid, you mean," I muttered. "Given my current condition, the recoil from my gun nearly tore my hand off." As it was, I was having trouble keeping my left hand attached, no matter how hard I concentrated, and my loose limbs made me look more like a drunken scarecrow than ever. I was glad Varney had turned out not to be a real reporter, because I really would've hated for him to shoot any video of me the way I looked right then.
We'd left Skully's via the basement trapdoor, climbed back into the hodgepodge cart, and were heading through the Underwalk once more, headlights on, electric engine humming. As near as I could tell, the tunnel we were traveling down paralleled Sybarite Street, and I wished the vermen carts came equipped with GPS so I'd know for sure. I was impatient to reach our destination, and I really didn't want to take any wrong turns and be delayed, or worse, end up lost. The longer I was separated from Devona, the more worried about her I became and the harder it was for me to control my emotions. But she needed me to keep cool if I was going to be of any help to her, so I shoved my feelings down, put a tight lid on them, and concentrated on doing what I had to do.
As we drove, I wondered if I was going about this all wrong. Maybe asking the Hidden Light for help wasn't the way to go. Back at Papa Chatha's, Dis had told me that he couldn't interfere in a dispute between two Darklords, but surely the current situation had progressed beyond that. If Gregor was involved, it was no longer just a clash between Talaith and Varvara, and if that was the case, then perhaps Dis would step in and do something. I had no idea how powerful Dis was, but he'd dealt with the Watchers the last time they'd infested the city, and there was no reason to think he couldn't handle them again. And if Dis was still reluctant to help, I could try the other Darklords. Amon had no particular dislike for me, but then again the king of the shapeshifters also had no love for me, either. I'd helped Edrigu recover a mystic object that had been stolen from him – though he had rewarded me by making it possible for me to return to mortal life for twentyfour hours, giving me the chance to have children with Devona. Edrigu might figure our accounts were balanced and be disinclined to help me. Galm would wish to help, if for no other reason than to protect his future grandchildren. But I wasn't sure I could trust him. What if we found Devona only to have Galm try to take her and lock her away in the Cathedral, where she'd be safe until she delivered our babies? And once they were born, what if Galm chose to keep them so that he could exploit their magic, whatever that might be?
The more I thought of it, the more the idea of going to any of the Darklords for help seemed like a bad idea. The more of them that got involved in this mess, the worse it would get, and the war between Talaith and Varvara could easily become a war between all five Darklords. And besides, it wasn't as if Gregor wasn't keeping all the Darklords, Dis included, under observation. Gregor might not be powerful enough to defeat the Darklords in a direct confrontation, else he would've done so long before now, but if I sought out any of their help, I'd expose myself and Gregor would have no trouble taking me out.
No, if I wanted to rescue Devona, free the abducted magicusers, and stop Gregor, I was going to have to do it myself. And that meant I needed the Hidden Light's help.
I glanced at Shamika and Varney. Make that we needed their help. I was grateful that the two of them had chosen to accompany me. Having a highly trained spy and a powerful alien entity along for the ride would no doubt come in handy. Plus, though I hated to admit it, I'd gotten used to working with partners over the last few months, and having them with me was a comfort. Despite myself, somewhere along the line, I'd become Matt Richter, the Not-So-Lone Ranger. And you know something? All things considered, it wasn't so bad.
The air in front of the cart's headlights began to ripple in a way I found disturbingly familiar. A ghostly image superimposed itself on the tunnel – another tunnel, higher and wider, with metal rails on the ground. We passed the phantom figures of men and women standing on a raised platform. They gawked at us as we drove by, and I had to resist a crazy impulse to wave hello. The images became more solid, and suddenly I found myself having to steer around and between the ground rails in order to keep the cart from overturning. It was happening again, the crossover to Earth, only this time it was more than just a ghostly overlapping. This time we were really co-existing in the same dimensional space. Which was unfortunate for us, because the bright headlights of a subway train glowed in the distance, growing ever larger as they drew near. If the train was as solid as the railings beneath our cart, our quest to find the Hidden Light's HQ was about to come to an abrupt and very dramatic end.
We felt the deep juddery vibrations of the train's approach, heard the rattle-whoosh of its metal wheels rolling over the rails. There was no way to avoid a collision. There wasn't enough room in the tunnel for me to pull the cart out of the train's path, and we certainly couldn't turn around and outrun the damned thing, not with our tiny electric engine.
I wondered where we were. Not Cleveland, not if we were in a subway tunnel. New York, probably. Or perhaps the Tube in London, the Métro in Paris, maybe even the Tokyo Metro. But it didn't really matter what Earth city we were occupying space with. All that mattered was when that train hit us, we would be in for two worlds' worth of hurt.
"Varney!" I had to shout to be heard above the din of the approaching train. "Can you get both of us out of here using your travel form?"
"I can only carry one of you at a time!" he said.
I started to tell him to take Shamika, but she said, "Take Matt! I'll be OK!"
Before I could protest, Shamika stood and leaped off the cart. In mid-air she separated into dozens of roach-like
insects – except these sprouted tiny black wings and buzzed away. Varney's form melted into a shadowy whirlwind which grabbed hold of me, and carried me away from the cart, spinning around like an undead top. I wasn't able to see through the dark substance of Varney's travel form, not that I'd have been able to focus clearly, given the way I was spinning around, but I heard the train hit the cart with a violent crash and rending of metal. Varney kept me spinning in the air for a few moments, until the sound of the train began to diminish, then he lowered me to the ground, deposited me on my feet, and resumed his normal form beside me.
I wasn't dizzy. Being dead, as I've said before, has some advantages. I looked around for Shamika – or rather the cloud of insects she'd transformed into – but I didn't see her. Varney and I both called her name, and when she didn't respond, I feared that she'd gotten herself splattered on the train's front, like a bug on windshield. But a moment later, the flying black bugs buzzed our way, gathered together, and flowed back into Shamika's shape.
"I didn't know you could fly," I said. "Gregor never did that."
She smiled. "My brother lacks imagination. I don't."
I smiled back. "Good for you."
"What do we do now?" Varney asked. "If Nekropolis and Earth remain merged…"
Before he could continue, the air shimmered once more, and the tunnel resumed its previous size and the subway rails disappeared. The Underwalk had returned to normal.
"Never mind," Varney said.
"That was worse than last time," I said. "It lasted longer and was more solid. The next time it might be permanent."
"I'm just glad we were in a subway tunnel," Varney said. "If we'd appeared outside during the day…" He shuddered.
"You might think about buying some imported sunblock, just in case," I told him.
In reply, he just frowned at me. Some people just don't know a good joke when they hear it.
"Do you think Talaith did that?" Shamika asked.
"Maybe. But like I've said before, I don't think she'd cast any spell that would affect the entire city. It's the Sprawl she wants to attack. I've been thinking… maybe Gregor's behind the dimensional crossovers with Earth. It could be why he's abducted the magic-users. He'd need a lot of mystical power and knowhow to pull off something that big."
Shamika frowned. "But why would he do such a thing? Gregor hates Others! And from what I understand, there are billions of humans on Earth. I can't imagine my brother wanting to expose himself to that many people."
I had to admit, it didn't seem in character, but I just couldn't see how Talaith could be responsible for the crossovers. I decided we'd just have to ask Gregor once we found him.
Right before I squashed the sonofabitch like the bug he was for abducting my wife.
SIXTEEN
We passed a number of ladders leading to the surface – and the remains of several carts and their vermen drivers who had been unlucky enough to encounter the subway train – until we finally came to the ladder we wanted. That is, if I hadn't screwed up the directions Skully had given me. The ceiling light above us activated as I parked the cart, and we climbed the ladder. Just as I had at Skully's, I opened the trapdoor to protect Varney and Shamika from any defensive spells there might be, and we stepped into a basement. Like Skully's, this basement was used for storage. The big difference was what was stored here.
Shamika looked around, frowning. "What are these things?"
Varney and I exchanged uncomfortable glances. We both knew that Shamika only looked like a young girl, that in truth she was far older than either of us, maybe older than any being in Nekropolis – with the exception of Gregor, of course. But I still couldn't help feeling more than a little awkward at having to explain all the sex toys and S&M equipment lining the shelves around us.
"They're, ah, recreational devices," I said lamely.
She looked at me with too-innocent eyes. "What, you mean, like for kinky sex? Do you and Devona ever use stuff like this?"
Varney looked as if he was trying really hard not to laugh. I ignored Shamika's question and said, "Let's go."
We headed up the basement stairs. The door at the top of the stairs wasn't locked – with the defensive spells on the trapdoor, it didn't need to be – and we opened it easily and stepped out into a small parlor. The room was done entirely in crimson: ceiling and walls, carpeted floor, chairs, couch… all were a deep, rich red. The parlor wasn't empty, though. A naked two-headed man was on the couch servicing an equally naked woman whose mottled skin resembled a snake's. The man had a trim athlete's physique, and when I say he had two heads, I'm not referring to what sat atop his neck. His name was Richard… Richard Deux, and he was one of the most popular men on Bennie's staff for two very obvious and prominent reasons.
The woman was too busy moaning and gyrating to notice us, but Richard looked in our direction, startled at first, but then he smiled.
"Hey, Matt! What's up?"
I resisted making the obvious joke. "Hey, Rich. Sorry to, uh, disturb you at work."
As he talked, Richard continued performing his duties with energetic enthusiasm, seemingly unbothered to have an audience, even one that contained a being who appeared to be a young girl. But then, this was the House of Dark Delights. They got all kinds here.
"Not a problem. I can multitask." He grinned.
There was a soft whirr as Varney's cybernetic eye focused on the salient portions of Richard's augmented anatomy. "I can see that," he said, sounding impressed despite himself.
Richard's grin only grew wider.
I myself made sure to keep my gaze fixed firmly on Richard's face. "We need to talk to Bennie, Rich. It's kind of an emergency."
"Last time I saw them, they were holding court in the lounge. I'd look there first."
The woman's moans suddenly increased in volume and pitch.
"Now if you don't mind, I really need to concentrate for this next part," Richard said.
"No problem. Uh, good luck," I said, and we left through the parlor's other door. I closed the door as the woman's moans became screams of pleasure.
Shamika looked thoughtful. "You know, I've never tried that sort of thing before. I wonder–"
"Maybe you should wait until you grow up a little more," I said without thinking.
She looked at me with a surprised expression for a moment, and then she smiled. "Yeah, maybe you're right."
We headed through the House of Dark Delights until we came to the lounge. It was very strange to be here again, considering that my last visit had been to an alternate version of the lounge that existed in a different dimension. That lounge had been crawling with Hydes, and while this one was no less crowded, at least things were normal here. Or as normal as they ever got, I guess I should say. Clients sat at tables drinking, talking, and laughing as they impatiently waited for their appointments to begin, tried to recover from an especially vigorous session, or – for those with stronger sexual appetites and an abundance of stamina – paused for a rest between assignations. Every type of Darkfolk was represented in the crowd, along with more than a few humans. If there was one thing that Darkfolk and humans had in common, it was they both loved sex. And as we stepped into the lounge, I couldn't help thinking, who would've thought that the city's most famous brothel was also a cover for the Hidden Light?
We found Bennie at his/her usual table, surrounded by some of the city's most famous and infamous citizens. Arvel the ghoul was there, sitting atop a titanium chair designed to hold his incredible – and grotesquely naked – bulk. The banshee pop singer Scream Queen sat next to him, occasionally fanning the air near her nose in a vain attempt to dissipate Arvel's stench. Victor Baron sat on the other side of Scream Queen, dressed casually in a long-sleeved white shirt and gray slacks, looking like the platonic ideal of a male supermodel. Overkill sat next to him; the petite mercenary smiled and gave me a nod of greeting. And next to her sat Acantha the gorgon. She pointedly avoided looking at me – at least I think so; it was har
d to tell considering the wraparound sunglasses she wore – but her camera-eye head serpents hissed to let me know she was considerably less pleased than Overkill to see me. And sitting be tween Acantha and Bennie was a woman who called herself the Psychovore. I knew her only by reputation, and while she looked normal enough, supposedly she had no need to eat or drink. Instead, she subsisted off the psychic emanations of those around her. If that was true, being in the House of Dark Delights must've have been like an all-you-can-eat buffet for her.
Bennie was currently female as we approached, and she gave me a grin when she saw me coming.
"Well, if it isn't the savior of my fine establishment! Well, one version of it, at any rate. I trust my other-dimensional counterpart was suitably grateful for your assistance?"
"You helped too," I said. "It was your antidote that did the trick. All I did was deliver it."
I introduced Varney and Shamika, once again saying that she was Papa Chatha's niece. And then a sudden thought struck me. "Have any of you have seen Darius lately?"
