by Tim Waggoner
Once Gnasher was safely away, Scorch increased the intensity of her flames and the SheCreature became wreathed in fire. She screamed, flung herself to the ground and attempted to put the flames out by rolling, but it was too late. A few seconds later she lay still, while the flames continued to burn.
Scorch, in full-on scary demon mode, grinned at me.
"Looks like her fellow prisoners will be dining on fresh cooked lobster tonight," she said.
It's times like that which make it hard for me to remember that Scorch's normal form is that of a relatively innocent looking young girl.
"Good to see you again," I told the demon and meant it. "But where's Devona?"
"Right here."
Her voice came from right next to me, but when I turned I saw nothing. An instant later the air shimmered and Devona and Bogdan were standing there, the warlock holding on to her arm.
I felt a wave of jealousy until I realized Bogdan had been in physical contact with her in order to extend his invisibility spell around the both of them. That didn't mean I had to like it, though, and I was happy when the warlock let go of her.
Devona had undergone something of a makeover in the hours we'd been apart. Her normally blonde hair had been dyed midnight black and instead of her usual black leather catsuit she wore a tight white sweater, a short black skirt, black leggings and knee-high black boots. I wasn't sure why she'd changed clothes – she finds her regular outfit not only comfortable but it doesn't constrict her movements if she needs to fight. Maybe she'd decided that breaking her lover out of jail was such a special occasion that she needed to dress up. If so I wasn't complaining. She looked damned good, but then she could wear a burlap sack and she'd still look beautiful to me.
Devona ran over and hugged me and I hugged her back as best I could given the number of injuries I'd sustained since we'd last seen one another.
When we parted I looked at her and said, "What's with the new look? Here I am, stuck in Tenebrus, while you decide to pay a visit to your hair stylist?"
She smiled. "I'll explain later. Right now-"
She was interrupted by Rondo bellowing my name.
"Richter! I'm going to fucking tear you apart!"
The Creeper – eyes so red and swollen he could barely see – started toward me, killer hands raised and ready to do what they did best.
Bogdan gestured and a baseball bat suddenly appeared in his hand. He got a good grip on it with both hands, stepped forward, and swung as Rondo came at me. The bat splintered as it came in contact with Rondo's head and for an instant I thought the Creeper would shrug off the blow and keep coming. But he stopped, swayed on his feet back and forth a couple times, and then his eyes rolled white and he fell face first onto the ground.
Bogdan dropped the broken bat next to Rondo then came over to join Devona and me.
"Nice hit," I told him. "You ever get tired of magic, you might consider a career playing baseball on Earth."
Scorch walked over too and Tavi was suddenly there as well, having arrived so swiftly he might as well have magically appeared as Devona and Bogdan had done. The lyke was in his combination cobra-mongoose wild form and he looked just as intimidating as Scorch did in her full demon guise.
"I've never broken anyone out of jail before," Tavi said. "It's actually quite a lot of fun."
I was about to warn Tavi not to jinx us but I was too late. Lycanthropus Rex had fought off the jackalheads and Overwatchers and now reached for us with his giant clawed hands. He caught us by surprise, including Tavi who otherwise might've gotten away, and lifted us into the air, Scorch, Tavi and Bogdan in his left hand, Devona and I in his right. He brought us up to his mammoth grinning face and I was grateful that I couldn't smell his undoubtedly horrendous breath.
"Looks like you found some friends of your own, eh, Richter?" Rex said in a booming bestial voice. "They can't help you, you know. Not against me. I'm too strong."
I tried to keep my voice steady as I spoke, but in truth I was terrified. You don't have to confront a fifty-foot wolfman everyday, even in Nekropolis. "Right now Keket is having fun watching the chaos you and Rondo created, but she'll grow tired of the show and reestablish order soon enough, and you'll likely end up thrown into maximum security. From what she told me, it makes Hell look like a tropical resort."
"Maybe so," Rex growled. "But at least I'll get to crush you and your friends to a pulp first." He bared his teeth in a hideous parody of a grin. "Any last words, Richter?"
"Yes. You're about to feel a slight prick, and it's most definitely going to hurt."
I still had hold of Gnasher's dire blade, and while my arms were pressed tight against my body due to the pressure of Rex's grip, I was able to angle my hand so the knife point touched the flesh of the giant lyke's hand. I didn't need my full coordination to simply shove the dagger forward, and given how deadly its magic was, I didn't have to do more than break the skin for it to work.
The effect was as dramatic as it was instantaneous. Lycanthropus Rex's eyes glazed over, his body went limp and his fifty-foot frame plummeted to the ground like a felled tree. It was all I could do to resist yelling "Timber!" on the way down.
The impact was rough but most of us were hardier than normal humans and Tavi and Scorch used their bodies to protect Bogdan, so none of us received any serious injuries when we hit. Too bad I can't say the same for Rondo – the poor unconscious sonofabitch was directly beneath Rex when he fell.
Once Rex was done we pried ourselves free from his dead hands and started moving away from the body. Not because we were afraid of Rex coming back to life – which isn't unheard of in Nekropolis – but because a horde of excited scarabs came scuttling toward the downed giant from all directions. We managed to get clear just in time for the beetles to fall upon Rex's remains, and as we ran, we heard the sound of noisy, moist chewing as the insects tucked into the feast of their lifetimes, illustrating an important principle in Nekropolis: the bigger they are, the better they taste.
We didn't stick around to watch the grisly show. Numbers of jackalheads and Overwatchers were hauling ass in our direction and it looked like my great escape was in danger of being over before it had fully gotten under way. I had no idea what to do, but Devona grabbed hold of my hand and pulled me toward the nearest canyon wall, the others keeping pace with us. I soon realized she was leading me toward a scarab's lair – the same one Gnasher had taken me to before. The five of us hurried inside the cave and were swallowed by darkness. My night vision isn't any better than it was when I was alive but Devona led me on confidently and I continued to follow, trusting her.
We soon reached the rear of the cave, having to pick our way through the scattered skeletal remains of past scarab meals, but instead of stopping we kept going. I half expected to run face first into a wall, but we encountered no obstacles. We stepped from darkness into light and it took my eyes a moment to adjust before I was able to get a look at my surroundings.
We were standing inside a tunnel formed of the same gray fleshy substance as Tenebrus. Behind us was a solid wall, or at least what appeared to be a solid wall. I reached out to touch it but my hand passed through without resistance.
"Hologram," I said.
Devona nodded. "It's how Gnasher comes and goes from Tenebrus. The passageway is too small for any of the scarabs to get through, though."
"How come the big bugs don't eat him?" I wondered aloud.
"Because I always make sure to carry extra sugar cubes with me."
I turned toward the sound of Gnasher's voice and saw him standing next to a tram made from bits and pieces of junk. Sitting behind the wheel was a verman, but this was a patchwork version cobbled together from the parts of separate rodent bodies. It seemed Victor Baron did work for the Dominari, too.
Looking at both the hodge-podge tram and the reanimated verman I remembered what Gnasher had told me about his people: We despise waste . From the looks of things it was a principle they took to heart.
T
he sole illumination in the tunnel was provided by the tram's headlights, and they revealed the tunnel extended for some distance.
"Where are we?" I asked.
"This is the Underwalk," Gnasher said with more than a hint of pride. "Over the centuries the Dominari have created an intricate series of tunnels beneath the city. Not only does it help us get around more easily, we're able to do so without attracting unwanted attention."
I was impressed. The Darklords strictly control travel to and from their Dominions by monitoring traffic across the bridges that connect them. The only way a system of tunnels such as the Underwalk could exist was with the Darklords' tacit approval. The Dominari were even more powerful than I'd imagined, almost as powerful as Gnasher liked to make out.
I turned to Devona. "I take it you were able to reach a deal with the Dominari."
She nodded. "Once we did, they brought us down into the Underwalk, loaned us a tram and a driver, and he brought us to their secret entrance to Tenebrus. As soon as we were inside, we started looking for you. It seemed like we found you just in time."
"I had the situation well in hand before you four showed up," I said defensively. Then I looked down at my crushed wrist. "Poor choice of words," I admitted. "Thanks for coming." I looked to the other members of the Midnight Watch. "All of you."
They nodded, looking insufferably pleased with themselves. Still, there wasn't anything I could say about it since I suppose they had technically rescued me, though I like to think that I'd have found my own way out, given enough time.
I turned back to Gnasher. "I appreciate that your people are willing to do business with us but I have a hard time believing that you intend to trust us with so many of your secrets – the true nature of the Dominari, the existence of the Underwalk, that you have a direct pipeline in and out of Tenebrus…"
Gnasher grinned. "Trust is for fools. We believe in insurance."
"I'm afraid he's right, Matt." Devona reached into her skirt pocket and removed a small glass vial containing a tiny wriggling worm.
"What's that?"
"A tongue worm," she said. "You place it on your tongue, as its name suggests, and it sinks into the flesh. It lies dormant within, but if you ever try to tell anyone anything you know about the Dominari, the worm will explode, taking your head with it. All four of us accepted tongue worms before the Dominari would agree to help us. This one is for you."
I looked more closely at the worm inside the vial. It looked like a simple inch worm, nothing special about it, but I had no doubt it could do what Devona said. No wonder the Dominari were able to keep their secrets so well.
I looked to Devona's employees, trying to understand. They'd all taken quite a risk by accepting tongue worms, and while I had no problem believing Devona would do so for me – for I'd do the same for her in an instant – those three barely knew me, and I barely knew them. Hell, I didn't really like them, and I hated Bogdan. Why would they have taken such a risk for me?
I decided that was something for me to ponder later. If we were going to get out of here it was obvious what I needed to do first. I didn't even think about objecting; I had a pretty good idea what would happen to me if I refused to accept a tongue worm. I took the vial from Devona, grasping it as best I could in my right hand, and pulled the rubber stopper out with my left – though as uncoordinated as that hand now was, it took me a couple tries. Devona frowned but thankfully she kept silent and let me have my pride. Once the stopper was out I upended the vial over my tongue and the worm fell out. I felt nothing, but Devona said, "It's gone," and I knew the worm had merged with the flesh of my tongue and disappeared. I replaced the stopper and tucked the vial into my pocket – vermen aren't the only ones who don't like to waste things – and faced Devona once more.
"Now what?"
"Now we board the tram and get out of here before Keket realizes you've escaped. Just because the Dominari helped us is no reason she'll allow you to get away."
"True," Gnasher said. "And our deal was to provide a means for you to escape, which we have done. We will not interfere with any attempt to recapture you. We won't directly defy Keket since we need to stay on her good side in order to continue operating inside Tenebrus."
I almost told the verman that his concern for my well being was touching, but I said nothing. He was Dominari and there wasn't anything personal in his attitude. It was just business.
I still had hold of Gnasher's dire blade and now I handed it back to the verman.
"Thanks for the loan," I said.
Gnasher nodded and took the blade from me. It was still sticky with Rex's blood and Gnasher held the weapon gingerly by the hilt as he reached into one of his pockets. I thought he would pull out a handkerchief to clean the blade, but instead he took out a plastic storage bag, popped the dire blade inside, sealed it and tucked the bagged weapon into his inner jacket pocket. I had no idea what the Dominari might want with a sample of Lycanthropus Rex's blood, but I'm sure they'd find some use for it.
Despite the fact the dire blade had saved all us from Rex, I was glad to be rid of the damned thing. Some weapons are simply too awful to use and a dire blade is one of them.
"Thanks for all your help," I told the verman. "I might've made it without you, but I doubt I'd have done so in one piece."
Gnasher accepted my gratitude with a nod. "It was a pleasure doing business with you, Matt. And now that we've established a relationship, perhaps we'll be able to work together again in the future."
I felt a mixture of anger and disgust upon hearing the verman's words. I wasn't the kind of guy who worked with mobsters… at least, I wasn't before that day. I bit back whatever reply I might've made, knowing it was probably unwise to piss off a Dominari Secundar who'd just helped get me out of prison. Instead, I returned his nod and left it at that. Still, I couldn't help wondering how many more times I might have to bend, if not break, my personal moral code before I managed to claw my way out of the mess I'd somehow fallen into – assuming it was even possible to get out.
Sensing I was uncomfortable Devona laid a gentle hand on my arm. "Let's go."
The five of us climbed aboard the vehicle I'd come to think of as the Scrap Tram.
"Good luck to you, Matt!" Gnasher said. Then he grinned. "You are most definitely going to need it and in industrial sized quantities."
I sighed as I took a seat up front next to Devona. "Truer words were never spoken."
As soon as we were all seated the Frankenstein verman started the engine – which sounded remarkably smooth-running given the tram's ramshackle appearance – and we started rolling down the tunnel.
As we traveled we passed other vehicles of similar design, each driven by a Baron built verman and containing a variety of cargo. Sometimes passengers – often other vermen, but just as often members of other species – and sometimes wooden crates filled with unknown contents. The Underwalk was a bustling place, in its own way as busy as the streets above us. It was like an entirely different city existed beneath Nekropolis and I marveled anew at the size and complexity of the Dominari's organization.
"So what landed you in the hoosegow?" Scorch asked. Once we'd boarded the tram both she and Tavi assumed their human guises and now she looked like a teenage girl again, but she still had the demon's gruff attitude.
I told them all about my visit to the Nightspire, my interrogation by Quillion and what the First Adjudicator had shown me.
Devona was scowling long before I was finished and when I stopped speaking she continued scowling, lost in thought. Then she shook her head as if to clear it.
"First things first," she said. There was a duffle bag on the seat next to us and she reached over, opened it, and pulled out a smaller cloth bag. She opened the bag and removed a bracelet made of tiny bones from a lizard or maybe a rodent.
Good thing Gnasher isn't here to see this, I thought.
"I stopped by Papa Chatha's before we came to get you," Devona said.
She slipped the
bracelet onto my broken wrist and within seconds I could feel the bones knitting themselves back together and I could feel my smashed nose resetting itself. After a couple minutes Devona removed the bracelet and put it back into the bag.
"That should do it," she said. "Papa placed a restorative spell on the bracelet to heal any damage you sustained in Tenebrus and he also added a preservative spell to make you look as fresh as possible." She leaned forward and examined my neck. "It even healed the seam on your neck where Victor Baron reattached your head. Excellent!" She leaned back, looking very pleased with herself.
I experimentally flexed my left hand but its coordination was still off. I guess there's only so much the magic of a voodoo priest can fix. Still, I wasn't complaining. Papa had more than done right by me.
"Let me guess: if I'm going to operate incognito, I need to look like a living man, so no tinge of gray to my skin, and no obvious injuries that apparently don't hurt me."
She nodded. "If we're going to attempt to clear your name, we're probably going to run into trouble."
I smiled. "Don't we always?"
She smiled back. "When we do – difficult as this may be for you – try to avoid getting beat up. And if you do get injured, pretend like it hurts. You're the only selfwilled zombie in the city, and you'll need to do everything you can to act like a living man if you want to avoid being recognized."
Sounds easy enough, right? After all, I'd spent almost four decades alive before becoming a zombie. But after being dead for several years, I wasn't sure that I could fake being alive. The big things I could do just fine. After all, I could still think and talk, but I move more stiffly than I did when I was alive and I don't notice small things like temperature changes and strong smells. Passing for one of the living wouldn't be easy.
