by Tim Waggoner
"Funny you should ask," Arvel said in his wet, bubbling voice. "We were just wondering the same thing."
"Indeed," Victor Baron said in his mellow tenor. "We thought if anyone could shed light on the strange dimensional disturbances the city has experienced of late, it would be the Sideways Man."
Which was what I'd realized. Great minds think alike – even if one of them was transplanted by a mad scientist and the other belonged to a walking dead man.
"But no one's seen any sign of him since you returned from the other Nekropolis," Bennie – now a man – said. "You and Devona left abruptly for the Fever House, and in the confusion, I lost track of him. By the way, how is Devona?"
I gave Shamika and Varney a warning glance. "Better now. Thanks for asking."
My companions gave me looks that said they weren't clear on why I wanted to keep the truth to myself, but they went along and said nothing. It wasn't that I didn't trust Bennie and his/her tablemates. Well, I trusted Bennie, Baron, and Overkill. I didn't trust Arvel as far as I could hurl his immense bulk, and Acantha would gleefully tear me to shreds with her own hands if she got the chance. I didn't know the Psychovore, but I've always found psychic vampires to be manipulative sociopaths, and she was supposed to be the strongest psychic vampire of all. But the real reason I didn't want to tell them the truth was I wanted to avoid drawing Gregor's attention to them. I had no doubt that a number of Gregor's bugs were present in the House of Dark Delights, and while it was tempting to ask Bennie for help – not to mention Baron and Overkill – I didn't want to draw bullseyes on their backs. Bad enough Gregor was out to get me, Shamika, and Varney. I didn't want to add any more names to his hit list.
"We were here when the last dimensional fluctuation occurred," Acantha said. "It was most dreadful!"
Scream Queen nodded. "We found ourselves sharing space with a group of humans working in tiny areas separated by flimsy partitions. More nightmarish than anything you can find in Nekropolis, if you ask me, darling!"
I couldn't help smiling. "Sounds like the lounge overlapped an office building. What you saw is something humans call a cube farm."
"Whatever it was, I hope to Perdition I never see it again!" Scream Queen said. Her companions agreed and everyone toasted to it.
"Why don't you and your friends sit down and join us?' Bennie – female again – asked. "You look like you can use a rest. Nothing personal. I know your job can be a bit rough on you sometimes."
"Rough?" Acantha said. "He looks like he's been through a rusty meat grinder!"
"If you drop on by the Foundry later, I'll fix you up," Baron offered.
Before I could acknowledge his offer, Overkill said, "You get caught up in the war between Varvara and Talaith?"
"I'm surprised you're not out there fighting for one side or the other," I said.
She grinned. "No one's made me an offer yet. This girl doesn't fight for free, you know."
"Not even if the cause is right?" I asked.
She laughed. "Righting wrongs is your department. Mine's kicking ass and cashing a fat paycheck for it."
"Do you have any news of the war?" Arvel asked. He gestured to the Mind's Eye screens around the lounge, all of which were displaying music videos or reruns of razorball games. "Since General Klamm ordered an information blackout, news is harder to come by than a virgin around here."
The frustration in the ghoul's voice was palpable. Arvel owns a restaurant in the Sprawl, the Krimson Kiss, but in addition to being a glutton for fresh raw meat and blood, he also has an insatiable appetite for information. I've found him to be a useful source in the past, and I knew the media blackout had to be driving him nuts.
"Sorry," I lied. "I don't know any more than the average citizen."
Arvel scowled. "As if I believe that!" But he didn't press me further.
I wish I could've told him. He'd have been indebted to me then, and I could cash in the favor later. Instead, I turned to Bennie. "I see the war hasn't hurt your business any."
"And why should it?" she said. "The threat of imminent death is one of the greatest aphrodisiacs of all! Other businesses in the Sprawl might be empty right now, but my boys and girls are busier than ever." She took a sip of her drink – some bubbling concoction of her own mad design, I'm sure – then said, "What can I do for you? I know you're not here for pleasure, so it must be for business."
"Just tying up a loose end," I said. "Like you said, Devona and I left in a hurry once we returned from the other Nekropolis. I had some Hyde plague antidote left over, but in the rush I forgot to leave it with you. I know you told me the chemicals can turn volatile over time if they're not stored properly, so I figured I'd better return the extra to you."
I'd thought of the cover story on the way over. In fact, we'd used up all the antidote Bennie had given us. And I'd made up the part about the chemicals becoming unstable. But before Bennie could contradict me, I used the code phrase Skully had given me.
"By your good graces," I added.
Bennie's eyes widened, and a look of surprise crossed his nowmale face. But he recovered quickly, took another sip of his bubbling drink, then smoothly rose from the table.
"Please excuse me," Bennie said to his companions. "It won't take more than a few moments to get the chemical stored away properly. After all, we wouldn't want it suddenly exploding and destroying our poor Matthew, would we?"
"Speak for yourself," Acantha muttered.
Bennie came over and escorted us across the lounge, smiling and nodding at people as he went, but not pausing to chat with anyone. As the Madam/Master of the House of Dark Delights, Bennie isn't only the host of the endless party that takes place in the establishment, he/she is also the most sought-after sexual companion in the place, and there's never any end of people trying to catch his/her eye. But Bennie is most particular about who he/she spends time with, and the fortunate few who receive his/her favors are in a very exclusive – and satisfied – club. However, Bennie took no time to flirt now, and we made it across the lounge within a few moments.
By then she was a woman again, and she led us down a hallway to a plain wooden door.
"Are we going to get to see someone else having sex?" Shamika said eagerly.
Bennie looked at me and cocked a curious eyebrow. I sighed.
"We came in through an… alternative entrance and accidentally ran into Richard Deux at work," I explained.
"You know about the Underwalk too?" Bennie said. "I have to say I'm impressed, Matt. I knew you were a good detective, but I didn't know you were aware of that particular secret. Or this one."
She opened the door and gestured for us to precede her. We entered and found ourselves standing in… the laundry room.
Several dozen washers and dryers were hard at work, and the noise was quite loud. Four of Bennie's staff were present, tossing dirty linen into washers, or removing clean sheets from dryers and folding them.
"As you might imagine, we go through a lot of bed linen around here," Bennie said. She smiled with more than a hint of lasciviousness. "Not to mention underwear."
"I really didn't need to hear that," I said.
Bennie clapped her hands to get the workers' attention.
"Take a ten-minute break everyone." She paused, then added, "Now."
The workers didn't speak. They merely stopped what they were doing, left their laundry lying where it was, and quietly filed out of the room. When the last one had departed, Bennie locked the door, then turned to face us.
"I don't know how you found out, and I don't want you to tell me. The less I know the better. But I must warn you: a code phrase won't be enough to get you in. They'll decide whether to admit you or not. And if they decide against it… well, let me just say that it's been a pleasure knowing you, Matt."
Before any of us could reply, Bennie walked down the row of front-loading dryers until she came to the very last one – which wasn't in use. We followed. She removed a key ring from her pocket, aimed a small
remote control at the door, and pressed a button. There was a soft click, and the dryer's door swung open. Then she stepped back.
"You crawl through this one at a time. There's an entrance to an elevator on the other side. Once you're all in, the entrance will close. After that, what happens will be up to them. Good luck."
Bennie was in the process of changing into a man when she leaned forward and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. It felt disturbingly like a goodbye kiss.
He started to go, but before he got far, I asked, "I understand why the Hidden Light would locate its headquarters here. Who'd ever suspect it? But why do you allow it? It doesn't quite seem to fit with the, ah, tone of the rest of your establishment."
Bennie turned around and gave me a smile. "As you might recall, my ancestor was obsessed with discovering chemical means to isolate the good and evil natures of human beings. My light and dark sides might express themselves slightly differently than my predecessor, but I have my dichotomies too. As I said, good luck."
Bennie turned and left the room. A second later there was a soft snick as he locked the door.
I gazed at the open dryer door. "It's not exactly through the looking glass, but shall we see what's on the other side?"
"You bet!" Shamika said and started toward the circular opening, but Varney put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.
"I'm not so certain it's a good idea that I accompany you," he said.
Shamika frowned. "Why not? It'll be interesting!"
"Undoubtedly," Varney said wryly. "But the Hidden Light is an organization of humans who represent Earth's major religions. Throughout history, those religions fought against the Darkfolk, driving us out of their towns and villages into the wilderness and doing their best to exterminate us. Such persecution was one of the major reasons we left Earth and founded Nekropolis. But our leaving wasn't enough. The humans followed us to our new home, and continued their persecution of us in the guise of the Hidden Light, harassing us at every opportunity!" His expression grew dark. "They may paint themselves as representatives of the Light, but the truth is they're nothing more than terrorists."
I didn't want to argue with him. It's true the Darkfolk left Earth, but they still had means of getting back and coming and going as they pleased. And while Dis and the Darklords forbid preying on humans, it still happened in Nekropolis all too often, and something had to be done about it. Despite having been resurrected from the dead, I'm not a particularly religious man, and I might not always agree with the Hidden Light's tactics, but that didn't mean I was going to write them off as terrorists. And the religious artifacts Maggie provided me had helped me and my clients out on more than one occasion. But I sensed Varney had something other than philosophical and political objections for not wanting to visit the Hidden Light.
"You're scared, aren't you?" I said gently.
At first I thought he might deny it, but then he sighed and cast his gaze downward as if ashamed. "Yes. I'm middle-aged as Bloodborn go, but that means I've lived many centuries, and I remember life on Earth: the vampire hunters with their holy symbols always chasing us, searching for our sleeping places by daylight, and once they found us, loudly chanting prayers as they hammered sharpened stakes into our hearts…" He looked up then. "How do you know they won't simply kill us the moment they set eyes on us?"
Shamika walked over and took Varney's hand and smiled. "Don't worry. I'll protect you."
Varney looked into the face of the being who only appeared to be a teenage girl, and he couldn't help but return her smile.
"Very well." He turned to me again. "And I suppose it is my duty, after all. Lord Galm charged me with protecting his daughter, and I must do everything in my power to fulfill that charge." He sighed again. "Even if I don't like it."
And then he climbed through the open dryer door and was gone.
"Me next!" Shamika said, and then climbed after him, giggling.
I've done a lot of strange things during my time in Nekropolis, but I have to say that climbing into a dryer that housed a secret entrance to a clandestine religious organization ranks right up there with the strangest. But in I went, and just as Bennie said, there was an opening on the other side. Once through, I was able to stand, and I joined Varney and Shamika in a closed elevator. A panel slid shut over the opening we'd just come through, sealing us in. But the elevator showed no sign of moving.
There was no control panel, so there were no buttons to push, and no intercom to speak into. There was no floor display atop the elevator door to indicate which level the elevator was stopped at or might go to. There was nothing but a door, three walls, a ceiling, a floor, and us.
"Now what?" Varney said.
In response, a woman's voice issued from a hidden speaker somewhere in the elevator.
"Now you have thirty seconds to tell us why we shouldn't flood the elevator with toxic gas and melt the flesh from your bones."
Varney gave me a look as if to say, I told you so. Shamika's only reaction was to look around to see if she could determine the speaker's location. I guess when you're part of a group mind, you don't really worry about losing part of your body any more than humans worry about sloughing off a few skin cells.
"My wife has been kidnapped, there's an extremely stupid and unnecessary war going on, and Nekropolis and Earth are in danger of merging permanently," I said. "Basically, a lot of shit is broken and I intend to fix it. So let me in or let me go, but don't waste my time."
For a moment nothing happened, but then with a slight jolt the elevator began to descend. It took a while for us to reach our destination. I half-expected the elevator to play a Muzak version of the "Hallelujah" chorus on our way down, but the ride was quiet. The House of Dark Delights has a number of subterranean levels, and I doubted the Hidden Light would have their headquarters located in any of them. Some religions have a more liberal attitude toward sex than others, but not that liberal, and I figured the Hidden Light was located on an even deeper level still. Eventually, we got where we were going, the elevator stopped, and a moment later the door slid slowly open.
Bright light flooded the elevator, making it impossible to see, and Maggie – the woman who'd spoken to us in the elevator – shouted, "Keep your hands where we can see them!"
I held up the stump of my right hand. "I've only got the one at the moment."
Varney hissed as the light poured over us and he averted his face and held up his arm to block his eyes. Shamika stared directly into the light, eyes wide open, as if the intense illumination didn't bother her a bit. The light didn't hurt my dead eyes either, but it was annoying not to be able to see our welcoming committee.
Another voice, this one male and slightly nervous, said, "We've got three nonhumans. One Bloodborn, one corporeal revenant, and one unknown. Our scanners can't read her, but whatever she is, she's definitely not human."
"Corporeal revenant?" I said. "Is that what the cool kids are calling zombies these days?"
A third voice, this one male but deeper and rougher, almost animalistic. "A word of warning: we've got you covered with weapons that will destroy any kind of Darkfolk. Make one move without our express instructions, and we'll fire."
I get ornery when people try to tell me what to do. You can imagine how much fun I was for supervisors to deal with back when I was a cop.
"Your nervous friend just admitted you don't know what Shamika is, so how can you be so confident your weapons will have any effect on her?" I asked.
Maggie answered, "We could always start firing and see what happens."
"I retract the question," I said.
Maggie chuckled. "We're going to turn off the illuminaries, but I want you to remain inside the elevator until we tell you, OK?"
"All right," I said, and a second later the light cut out.
My zombie eyes don't need time to recover from exposure to bright light, and I was able to instantly see the three people standing outside the elevator: a middle-aged woman, a thin bespectacled m
an in his thirties, and a large armored creature who resembled a bipedal armadillo. They were all armed, and the woman and armadillo lowered devices that looked like high-tech guns whose barrels were covered with glass. I assumed those were the illuminaries, the weapons that had blasted us with light, and I wondered how I might be able to get hold of one for myself. There are a lot of Darkfolk who aren't especially fond of light, and a device like that would come in handy in my line of work.
The man held some sort of scanning device in his other hand, while Maggie and the armadillo both held offensive weapons. The armadillo held a small crossbow armed with silver-tipped bolts, while Maggie held a gun that looked to be covered in snakeskin.
"Is that a serpent's tooth?" I asked her. I'd heard of the weapon, but never actually seen one.
