by Tim Waggoner
“Actually, I don’t. Bloodshedder and I have become great friends over the years. Haven’t we, girl?” He reached down to scratch her head, and I heard her tail thump happily on the floor. “Do you remember how Dr Kauffman used to say that the only way for us to overcome our fears was to confront them? Well, I went one step further than that. I embraced mine. Accepted it. And that made all the difference.”
Our conversation had taken an uncomfortable turn – for me, anyway – so I was relieved when Bloodshedder let out a sharp bark.
“That’s the signal,” Russell said. “It’s going to be dark soon. We need to get out of here before she starts to change.”
I wondered how the good folks at Cheddar’s would react to the sudden appearance of a demon dog in their midst. Too bad I wasn’t going to get to find out.
We rose from the table and headed for the exit.
EIGHT
We entered Nod through a manhole. Not the classiest of entrances in my career, but then again, a Door is a Door.
Russell went first. I followed, and Bloodshedder came last, squeezing her bulk through the circular opening in a way no natural creature could. I slid the manhole cover back into place and tried to ignore my usual sense of nauseated disorientation. At least the voices in between weren’t too loud this time, I thought, and I told myself to be thankful for small favors.
A quick look around told me we were in the Cesspit: neon signs advertising far-less-than-reputable businesses and loud-mouthed hucksters trying to entice passers-by into sampling whatever sleaze they were selling. One good thing about Nod: since you never know where a Door will let you out, the streets are always clearly marked. We were on the corner of Oblivion and Catalepsy.
The Cesspit, as the name implies, isn’t exactly Nod’s garden district. Incubi are created from the human subconscious, so not only are they drawn to darker pleasures, they don’t have inhibitions to prevent them from indulging. Alcohol and drugs – some of the earthly variety, many not – flow freely there, both within various establishments and out on the street. Sex isn’t for sale, but it can be rented on the cheap, and it comes in every variety and combination you can imagine, and quite a few that you can’t.
Violence is common here, but since Incubi heal swiftly, no one takes it very seriously. Except the humans foolish enough to venture down these filth-strewn streets. Compared to Incubi, we might as well be made of popsicle sticks. And unless you know how to handle yourself – and unless you’re willing to shoot first and then run like hell – the Cesspit is an excellent place to meet a swift, if hardly painless, end.
The Nightclad Council tolerates the Cesspit’s existence because it gives the more savage Incubi an outlet for their aggressive – and quite often destructive – needs. As long as the mayhem is contained, the Council is content. And who’s in charge of doing the containing? The Shadow Watch, of course. Just like all rookies, Jinx and I worked the Cesspit for several years after we finished our training. The theory is that if you can survive the Cesspit, you can survive anything. Sometimes I wonder if Darwin was an Ideator who came up with his concept of survival of the fittest after a visit to the Cesspit.
Russell had donned his pirate outfit before we left Earth – he kept his costume in a suitcase in the trunk of his car and changed in an alley. He had made me turn my back while he changed, but it’s possible that I peeked once or twice. And it’s possible that Bloodshedder – in full demon dog mode –might’ve almost bit off one of my hands for doing so. Russell had his rapier, too. I had no idea where he kept it. One moment he didn’t have it, and the next, there it was, sheathed at his side. I’d almost asked about it, but I’d decided he’d only smile at me again instead of answer, so I didn’t bother. For the record, the rapier really raised the hotness level of his outfit, though.
We’d emerged close to a group of Incubi who were busy trying to see how far one of them would stretch – a male so skinny, he looked like a skeleton covered with a paper-thin layer of skin. Two Incubi had hold of his arms, while another pair had his legs. The two on the hands – a beast that resembled a bipedal rhino and a creature that appeared to be made entirely of loosely connected shards of stained glass – braided the arms as if they were strands of taffy. The two holding the flesh skeleton’s feet – a hulking figure whose skin was criss-crossed with jagged scars, and a creature that looked like a weasel on steroids – were twisting the legs. From the sounds of snapping bone, not to mention the victim’s screams, it was clear that he was no more pliable than anything else made of flesh. The four Incubi laughed and chanted, “Over, under, over, under!” as they braided the Skin-Skeleton’s broken limbs.
The Rhino glanced over at us and said, “Hey, look! A couple humans! How many times do you think we can twist their arms and legs?”
The other Incubi grinned and they all dropped the Skin-Skeleton to the ground. He let out a shriek of pain as he hit, and then lay there, moaning in agony.
“Let’s find out!” Weasel-Boy said in a chittering voice.
They started toward us, and I reached for my trancer out of reflex, only to remember I’d lost it when the Blacksuits kidnapped Jinx. I still had my M-blade, though, and I drew it now. Russell drew his rapier, and I had to suppress a sudden feeling of weapon envy.
But before the four Incubi could reach us, Bloodshedder jumped in front of us and fixed them with a Don’t fuck with me glare, bared her mouthful of wickedly sharp teeth, and growled from deep in her chest. The quartet stopped, regarded the huge demonic hound for a moment, and then turned and headed off in separate directions at a near-run.
“You know, I think I’m starting to like her,” I said.
She looked back and me and snapped her jaws once, sending flecks of foam flying. The message: the feeling was not mutual.
“She does come in handy,” Russell said, smiling.
Bloodshedder trotted over to him, and he scratched her behind an ear. One of her back clawed feet thumped up and down on the asphalt in doggie ecstasy. It might’ve been cute if Bloodshedder wasn’t so damn hideous – and if the Skin-Skeleton hadn’t been sobbing in agony close by. I didn’t worry about him, though. He was an Incubus and would heal soon enough.
I turned to Russell, but before I could say anything, a glowing red Wild West-style train engine came chugging down the street toward us, flames trailing out behind it as if it were rocket-powered. Everyone in the street – including Russell, Bloodshedder, and myself – hurried to get the hell out of the way. Unfortunately, the Skin-Skeleton couldn’t move, not with his pretzel-twisted arms and legs. The Hell-Train roared over the spot where the injured Incubus lay, and everyone lining the sidewalk on both sides of the street let out shouts ranging from, “Dude, that’s going to leave a mark!” to “Ten points!”
Incubi aren’t known for their empathy.
I didn’t look too closely at the burned and mangled body of the Skin-Skeleton. He’d still heal. It was just going to take a lot longer now.
“I’m glad that train didn’t come through as we were climbing out of the manhole,” I said. “Still, it’s a lucky thing that Door let us out here. If you want to get the lowdown on lowlifes, there’s no better place than the Cesspit.”
“That’s what Bloodshedder thought, too. In her Night Aspect, her senses are so sharp that she can almost always tell where a particular Door leads. You can thank her for bringing you here.”
I turned to look at the demon dog, but she was pointedly looking in the opposite direction. She didn’t try to tear my throat out, though, so I took that as a sign of progress.
“I take it you’re not planning on going to the Rookery first,” Russell said.
“I’m sure they got my report about the Day Incursion by now. And as for Perchance to Dream… well, we don’t know much about what’s going on there, other than that the Lords of Misrule are involved. And Sanderson won’t believe that without some serious proof. Maybe if you’re willing to turn yourself in and tell my boss everything you know…
”
“Afraid not.”
“Didn’t think so. I’d rather find Jinx, anyway.” I glanced at the Skin-Skeleton’s ravaged body and felt suddenly queasy. I had no idea where Jinx was or what was happening to him. For all I knew, he might be in as bad a shape as that poor squashed sonofabitch out there. Or worse.
Even with Russell’s testimony, I had no direct evidence that Perchance to Dream was connected to the Incursions – just a gut feeling – and although I knew I should still communicate my suspicion to Sanderson ASAP, I didn’t want to. I knew it was petty, but I didn’t want to hand any info over to Damon and Eklips sooner than I had to. No matter what anyone said, it was still my case, damn it! Mine and Jinx’s, and I was determined to see it through to the end. Once I got my partner back.
“So if you’re not doing anything,” I said, “do you want to come with?”
I was surprised to feel nervous, as if I was asking him to go on a date – instead of helping me find my kidnapped partner.
“I was thinking that while you search for Jinx, I should try to track down Shocktooth. It’s possible she might not know any more about what’s going on than I do, but I figure it’s worth having a talk with her.” He patted Bloodshedder on the head. “Besides, my girl here loves the taste of reptile, don’t you, baby?”
Bloodshedder’s morningstar tail slammed into the sidewalk several times, sending cracks fissuring through the concrete.
I couldn’t tell if Russell was kidding, and I decided not to ask.
“You know, someone more suspicious than I am might wonder if you want to split up so you can pursue whatever mysterious agenda your real bosses have. And someone even more suspicious yet might wonder if you’ve lied to me all along, and you’re really working for the Lords and are just playing some twisted and overly complicated game.”
He smiled. “Wheels within wheels, plots within plots, double- and triple-crosses, ad infinitum.” His smile fell away. “I can’t prove anything I’ve told you, and there’s plenty I’ve kept to myself for various reasons. You’re right not to trust me. Hell, I wouldn’t trust me either if I was you. But you want to find Jinx – and you’d like to question Shocktooth, right?”
“I’d like to question the scaly bitch upside the head with one of Jinx’s sledgehammers.”
He nodded. “So it only makes sense to split up. You have no idea how long it will take to track and free your partner. And who knows how long it will take to find Shocktooth?”
“Just look for the nearest swamp,” I muttered.
I looked at Russell for a long moment, trying to decide what I should do, and more importantly, what I believed. He had helped me get to Nod, and I knew I couldn’t stop him from leaving any time he wanted. Aside from my M-blade, I was unarmed, while he had his rapier as well as his demon dog Incubus. The fact that he was going to such lengths to convince me we were on the same side – in this situation at least – when he didn’t need to, said a lot.
But in the end, it came down to what I saw in his eyes. Sure, they were an adorable milk-chocolate brown, but that had nothing to do with it. I saw no hint of deception in his gaze, just openness, and maybe a touch of fear that I wouldn’t believe him. That it mattered what I thought of him.
“How will we find each other? I don’t have a wisper, and my phone doesn’t get any service here.”
He smiled and tapped the side of his nose with a finger. “Bloodshedder will find you.”
The demon dog let out a snort, as if to say that while she didn’t particularly enjoy my scent, she’d had no trouble tracking me down.
“All right.” I reached into my jacket pocket, removed a negator, and handed it to Russell. “For when you find Shocktooth,” I explained.
“Take my rapier. I won’t need it as long as I have Bloodshedder to protect me.”
He started to unbuckle his scabbard, but I held up a hand to stop him.
“Thanks, but I’m strictly a gun-and-knife girl. Besides, I really suck when it comes to using those things, I’d be just as likely to slice off one of my own ears as wound a bad guy.”
He didn’t look happy about my refusal, but he didn’t insist. I appreciated that.
In the end, we didn’t gaze longingly at each other, and we certainly didn’t kiss. We said goodbye, and Russell and Bloodshedder turned and began making their way edgewise, the crowd of pedestrians parting before them like water flowing around a large rock in a stream.
I watched them go for a moment before turning and heading centerwise.
I had no idea what to do next.
Nod is a damn big place. Shadow Watch officers use their wispers to communicate, but we can also use them like GPSs to get a fix on each other’s location. But I didn’t have my wisper anymore, and I doubted Jinx did either. His captors would’ve relieved him of it, just as they’d taken mine. Bloodshedder might’ve been able to help me track down Jinx, but she was off helping Russell find Shocktooth.
And the fact that Jinx had been kidnapped – or maybe I should say clown-napped – by a group of black-suited men and women who, in their Night Aspects, were mostly likely clowns too, would be no help in locating him. The scary clown is a common nightmare archetype, and Nod is crawling with the greasepaint-covered bastards. They’re so ubiquitous, they’re practically the nightmare-world version of pigeons. So I couldn’t simply walk around asking people if they’d seen a clown lately. All they’d do is laugh at me and walk away.
I wandered through the streets, garish neon signs screaming for my attention: PWN Shop, Self-Surgery Supplies, Brainswapping, You Bet Your Genitals, 3000 Proof Alcohol, Janglers, Adrenalynn’s, Live Necrophilia… In the Cesspit, it doesn’t take long to grow numb to the sleaze, and when that happens, the signs become merely words.
There was another sign, too, one that hung above most businesses. NO VESTIES. Vesties are Incubi who try to look, dress, and act as much like humans as possible. Some even go so far as to have cosmetic surgery with M-enhanced instruments, especially in the case of the more inhuman-appearing Incubi.
Vesties – a term that’s a play on transvestite – believe that since humans created them, humans are therefore a superior life form: the exact opposite of what the Lords of Misrule believe. Because of this belief, they try to emulate humans in the hope of becoming more like them. Most Incubi despise vesties, although Jinx doesn’t seem to think anything about them one way or the other. Because of his Shadow Watch uniform, some Incubi tease him about being a vestie, though. The resulting violence is always fun to watch.
At one point in my wanderings, I approached the mouth of a particularly dark and ominous alley. Normally, I give alleys a wide berth, especially in the Cesspit, but I was running on fumes and not thinking straight, and I walked too close to the alley’s entrance.
A hand the color and consistency of smoke emerged from the alley’s gloom and grabbed my arm. Its touch was cold as winter ice, and despite its insubstantial appearance, the hand fastened on me with an iron grip.
As I was yanked into the alley, a single word screamed through my mind: Fader!
There are a lot of dangers in Nod, especially for humans, but Faders are among the most dangerous because they don’t discriminate between humans and Incubi. They desperately need life force, and they aren’t picky about where they get it. Faders are Incubi whose Ideators have died, leaving them alone and unbonded.
Once they come into full existence, Incubi don’t necessarily need to remain connected to their creators to survive. But some become so strongly bonded to their Ideators that when their humans die, these Incubi simply fade away to nothing. The process can take a long time. Years, sometimes decades. But in the end, Faders vanish, never to be seen again.
Unless they can find someone and steal their life energy to stave off the inevitable. Incubus or human, it doesn’t matter. Any life energy will do, and tonight this particular Fader had chosen to feed on me.
The Fader dragged me into the alley, and although I pulled and twist
ed, I couldn’t get the damn thing to release me. With my free hand, I drew my M-blade and tried to gut the thing, but the Fader caught hold of my forearm, stopping me. It shoved my arm backward until I could feel the bones grind. My fingers sprang open, and the M-blade fell to the ground.
I was out of weapons. If I’d had my trancer, I could’ve blasted the damn thing into oblivion. Hell, if I’d had my wisper, I could’ve activated its holo display. Faders are creatures of darkness, and the light would’ve driven it off. But now I didn’t have anything other than my clothes and my body. But this was an alley, and not just any alley, but a Cesspit alley.
Faders only have so much energy – which is why they need to feed on others, of course – so I fought to pull both of my arms free, forcing the Fader to expend more energy to hold onto me. By necessity, Faders are loathe to waste energy, and so the creature let go of one of my arms, and continued to pull me deeper into the alley, where it could feed on me without interruption.
I continued to resist as it dragged me, and I bent down in a half crouch, and with my free hand reached toward the ground. My fingers brushed all manner of debris. My eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness in the alley yet, so I couldn’t see what I was touching, which was a very good thing. Too many of the items I touched were wet and spongy, and – if the horrid smells were any indication – I really didn’t want to know what sort of trash I was fondling.
I wasn’t searching for anything in particular, just something that I might be able to use against the Fader to wound or at least startle it. I didn’t need to kill it. I just needed it to let go of me long enough so I could haul ass out of there.
And I had to hurry. Already I could feel the icy-burning sensation of the Fader’s touch spreading into the rest of my arm. It would take only a few minutes for the Fader to drain all of my life force, but the problem was that I’d soon become too weak to fight back, and then I’d be little more than a semiconscious rag doll, and the Fader could consume the rest of my energy without difficulty. If I was going to survive, I had to do something within the next few seconds, while I still had the strength to act.
