Nightmare City: Part One: A Post-Steampunk Lovecraft Adventure

by Jack Conner

  Ravic shook his head. He stared around Jack into the leaping flames. Smoke ghosted upward. “He might be trying to draw me out,” Ravic said. “He might want open war.”

  “You think all this has been in an effort to provoke you?”

  “It’s possible.”

  Katya wished she knew what they were talking about. She wanted to leap in with some witty remark, gain Ravic’s respect before she hit him up.

  Vivia stroked the Boss’s beard. “It’ll be all right, my love. Whatever it is, Vivia will make it better.”

  He grunted. “Go on. I need my peace.”

  “What—?”

  He thrust her off his lap, and she stumbled down a stair before she could right herself. Ravic chuckled a little. Vivia made a moue of pique, turned her back on him and stormed off, disappearing down a side hall concealed by a scarlet tapestry. A similar tapestry hung behind Ravic’s throne, and Katya supposed there was another hallway there, leading to Ravic’s bedchambers.

  Ravic’s attention turned to her.

  “You,” he said, adjusting himself in his seat, and Katya started. “What are you doing here? Come to join the wait staff?” His gaze flicked to his scantily-clad serving girl, then back to Katya. “You’re a mite rough around the edges, but you’re pretty enough. I could make do.”

  She opened her mouth to speak. A squawk came out. She tried again. “I am not a ... waitress. I’m a—”

  He smiled, his face crinkling up. “A thief, I know.”

  “You’ve heard of me?”

  “Of course. I like to keep up with what’s going on in my district, and I’ve heard plenty of rumors about the young woman who burgles the stashes of thugs and pimps and other lowlifes she thinks deserve it.”

  Sweat beaded her forehead. “There are a lot of assholes out there. I, uh, you know, just take them down a peg.”

  “I’d say good for you, but some of those assholes work for me.”

  Shit. “Well, then you have bad taste in goons.”

  Studying her closely, Ravic seemed to realize something. “That’s why you’re here. You’re on the run!” He laughed. “You chose the wrong asshole to steal from, didn’t you? Who was it?”

  Fuming, she said, “Sedic.”

  Ravic’s expression darkened. “Well, in that case, I could help you. Technically. He’s an independent operator, and I owe him nothing but a place in my arena.” At her reaction, he added, “That’s what passes for justice here, Katya Ivreski.”

  “Execution by Returners,” she marveled, though of course she’d heard of it. “That’s ...”

  “Terrible? I know. But it is what it is. It’ll keep other shitheals like him in line, or at least give them pause before they step outside of my authority, or beat up on some girl. And yes, I’ve heard of Sedic’s reputation. If it wasn’t for that, I wouldn’t be so happy to toss him in the Pit.” He rubbed his hairy cheek. “The problem’s that all my men are tied up in resisting ... well, I have some tension going on right now with a certain party. I can’t deal with Sedic’s gang right now. I’m sorry, Ms. Ivreski, but I’m not able to help you. So, if that’s all you came for, I’ll ask you to quit stealing from my people and send you on your way. One warning, though, then—”

  “The Pit?” Before he could dwell on that point, she plowed on. “If you send me back out there, I’ll die. If Sedic doesn’t get me, someone else will.”

  “I certainly don’t want that to happen. I’m not sure what I can do for you, though.”

  She took a deep breath. Now’s the time, Kat. “I ... I want a job.”

  “A what?”

  Even Jack was looking at her with surprise.

  Kat held her ground. “Things are rough out there. What with the haunts, and the gang war last year, well ... the whole district’s falling apart. Even my apartment was condemned. I’m tired of scrounging for crumbs. Plus, if I worked for you, Sedic would have to leave me alone. Even he wouldn’t dare attack one of your people.”

  Ravic studied her. “You want to be a thief for the big leagues, eh?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I don’t need a thief.”

  She clenched her teeth. “Well, then something else, damn it.”

  Ravic shared a glance with Jack. “What do you propose to do, girl? I have plenty of janitors. Perhaps my attendants ...” Again he looked to his serving girl; he seemed keen on the notion of Katya in that get-up.

  “Never!”

  “Well, then? What can you do? I can’t send you to crack bones for me, now can I? I need killers, not waifs.”

  “I am not—” She suppressed her anger. “I have a very special skill set, Mr. Ravic. Getting in places where I’m not supposed to go. Learning things I’m not supposed to know. Surely you have a use for someone like that.”

  A long silence passed. Then, slowly, he nodded.

  Hope surged through her. “So you mean it, you’ll really take me on? I mean, you’ll hire me?” If he said yes, she had found her place. No more barely getting by, no more living on the streets. It’s what she had wanted long before today. Sedic had just given her the impetus to seek Ravic out.

  Ravic did not say yes, however. “It depends,” he said.

  “On what?”

  “Give her a drink,” he told one of his people, and seconds later Kat was sipping expensive whiskey, the finest she’d ever had. She couldn’t enjoy it, though. This isn’t a good sign.

  “I have an enemy, Katya,” Ravic said. “Well, I have many enemies. But there is one that particularly concerns me.”

  “This the guy you have tension with? The one you and Jack were talking about? You’re ‘friend’?”

  Ravic smiled mirthlessly. “Loqrin Mars is no more a friend to me than the President. Although things did not used to be so sour between us. Hells, a year ago I thought we’d patched things up. Finally.”

  “You mean the big gang war between the Bosses?”

  “Some of us, yes. Especially Loqrin and myself.”

  Katya remembered it vividly—shootings, bombings, stabbings. It had gotten messy. She took a long sip. What have I gotten myself into?

  “Well, I thought it was behind us,” Ravic said. “We’d signed a peace accord. The Archminister of the Guild of Alchemy himself acted as witness.” He snorted. “Might as well have signed toilet paper. Loqrin has been striking at me for the last few months, firebombing my clubs, mowing down my men, and it just doesn’t make sense. We’ve already proven neither one of us can out-wrestle the other. War between us only loses business—business which goes to the other Bosses, you should know.” He ran a hand through his thick hair. “It makes no sense.”

  “Yeah, you said.” The drink was making her unsteady. There was a richly upholstered chair sitting nearby. She dragged it out a few feet—it was heavy—and sat down.

  Thunder cracked overhead, and rain flung against the windows, making her jump.

  Ravic hardly seemed to notice. “He’s been hitting me, and hitting me hard. Attacking gambling dens, brothels. He’s even been abducting citizens, regular people of the Fifth Ward. My people.”

  “Why would he kidnap regulars?” She’d heard about the killings, but not the abductions.

  “Ask him. And the timing of it! With all this haunt business ...”

  “What are they, anyway?”

  “Who knows? They appear and disappear, killing people wherever they go. All across the city. They’ve killed near a hundred people by now. That we know of.”

  “Monsters,” she said. Of course, this was Lavorgna, home of homunculi, Returners, steam-men, strange cults and worse. Haunts seemed so abstract, though. Loqrin Mars was a threat she could understand. “So what do you want me to do?”

  “That depends on you, Katya. I need something done about Loqrin Mars. With that skill set you were bragging about, you can get closer to him than I can.”

  She felt a chill. “You want me to what, kill him?”

  He took the last sip from his glass. “
Bosses killing Bosses only causes trouble. His territory will rip itself apart finding a new Boss, and the new Boss will aim his sights on me to rally his troops. Revenge is a good unifier. And the Fifth Ward ... well, if I die this place really will go nuts. All my lieutenants will fight over my seat and who knows how many folk will get mown down in the crossfire. It’s my job to prevent that. I’m the Boss of the Fifth Ward. I’m the sheep dog, and they’re the sheep, and over there is Loqrin Mars with his wolf pack.” He eyed her urgently. “What I need is someone who can wear a wolfskin, go over to his pack, and see what he’s up to. Whatever it is, it ain’t good, and it ain’t normal.” He paused. “And, yeah, if it comes to it, an’ he needs killin’, then that’s what I need you to do.”

  “I ...”

  What he was asking her to do was madness. She saw how important it was—not just to him, but the whole Ward—but she was no spy, no matter what she’d told him.

  Before Kat could answer, a sound like thunder ripped the night, but it was not thunder. It came again, and again.

  Ravic bounded to a window. Breathlessly, Kat and Jack joined him.

  Below, in the parking lot, the thinning crowd of patrons was stirring madly. Gunshots pierced the night. And screams.

  “Come,” Ravic said. “Let’s hurry.”

  Chapter 3

  Rain drenched Kat’s hair and ran between her shoulder blades all over again. She pulled her leather jacket closed to cover herself. Around her the crowd swept in from the parking lot. Something outside had frightened the patrons departing the Factory, and they were rushing back inside, taking shelter. In their fright they did not seem to notice Ravic striding against the tide.

  Ahead, people screamed. Horses tied to posts whinnied and reared up, trying to break the ropes that bound them.

  Ravic had rounded up half a dozen of his men and women. They jogged before him in a loose wedge, scattering Fifth Warders as they went. They carried repeating rifles with magazines that jutted up from smooth, blunt shafts—ugly, industrial weapons for an ugly, industrial age.

  Ravic carried a large revolver, nothing else. He panted hard beside Katya. Her lungs burned, and the whiskey turned her legs to rubber. It was all she could do to keep up. Where had Jack gone?

  At last the crowd thinned, and Katya and Ravic reached the edge of the parking lot. Gas lamps lit the perimeter in broad, glowing green-white arcs. Beyond lay the dark, jagged ruins of bombed-out buildings. Katya saw fires guttering in a barrel under an overhang that had once been the ceiling of a first floor antechamber. It was one of the fires she’d seen earlier with bums and drifters gathered around it, seeking warmth and liquor, but now several shapes that must be bodies sprawled across the ground.

  Ravic’s gunmen ran into the mostly-collapsed structure, disappearing from sight. As soon as they did, shrieks issued from within. Gunfire. Katya’s breath caught in her throat. She could no longer feel the rain. Her footsteps lagged.

  Ravic ran forward. One of his men emerged from the building and fled past him, gibbering. As the man reached the circle of the gas-lamp Katya saw that his face was white with fear.

  As Ravic disappeared into the ruin, there came a great noise, at once liquid and leathery. Then a monstrous shape took flight, sweeping up out of the ruin. Katya saw unnatural wings silhouetted against the lightning, almost like bat wings but far larger, and an impossible, gelatinous shape, with stars just visible through it ...

  She entered the building.

  Ravic stood in a broken room, rain pouring down on him, firing his gun at the disappearing shape. Beside him stood two of his men, emptying their guns as well. Another slumped against the wall. Two more littered the ground.

  The thing vanished into the storm-tossed night. Gradually the men stopped firing their weapons. The air stank of gun smoke.

  Katya felt like she was sleepwalking. Her mouth slack, she stepped to Ravic’s side and stared up into the night. “Was that ... ?”

  “A haunt. Had to be.”

  “Shit,” said one of the men. He was short, broad and scarred. “I’ve never seen the like. I’ve sailed from Tivis to Morundai, and I’ve never seen anything like that.”

  The other gunman’s voice was grim. “I have.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Burnig,” the man said. “It was Burnig. I saw it when the lightning flashed. There was a shape inside. A man. I’d know him anywhere.”

  “A man?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Burnig,” Ravic repeated, after some thought. “Bob Burnig?”

  “The very same.”

  “The one who runs the club over on Tidmoore?”

  The taller man grunted. “Was.”

  Ravic turned to Katya. “Burnig was one of the men Loqrin abducted when his men attacked the Gin-Cat yesterday.”

  She stared at him. His face was in darkness, but still she could feel the intensity of his gaze. In a whisper, she said, “You really think Loqrin has something to do with all this?”

  “He must. The haunts only started appearing about the time he began his move against me.”

  “Son of a bitch,” added the scarred man.

  The taller one let out a surprised grunt. He was staring at the man slumped against the wall. Katya had thought him dead, but now he staggered forward. Lightning lit him briefly: slack jaw, glazed eyes. But what caught Kat’s attention, and surely everyone else’s, was the fact that steam—steam—wisped up from his head.

  “Fedrik!” said the scarred man. “What’s happened?”

  Fedrik opened his mouth even wider, as if to answer, and steam poured out of it. He didn’t go two more steps before he toppled to the muddy ground right beside the other corpses. Mud splashed Katya’s shins, but she barely felt it. Her heart hammered inside her, a mile a minute. Their heads were smoking, Aggie had said earlier. Katya had hardly believed it then. She believed it now.

  Ravic knelt beside the fallen man, feeling his pulse. “Dead,” he confirmed. He moved to the other bodies. “Dead. Dead. Dead.”. He felt the last one’s skull. Instantly he drew his hand back and sucked in his breath. “Hot.” He stared down at the corpses.

  Katya, despite herself, laid a hand on his shoulder. “At least we’re safe.”

  “Safe!” spat the scarred man. “Didn’t you see that thing? The tabloids may call ‘em haunts, but if that’s a ghost I’m a fairy princess!”

  Ravic turned his face up. “Then what was it, Gunnerson?”

  The scarred man threw up his hands. “Hell if I know. But mark me, Boss, that was no thing of nature, and it wasn’t no damned spirit neither.”

  Katya studied the bodies. Several hissed as their burning skulls smoldered in the muck.

  “Why are their heads ... hot?”

  The tall man spat. “When I got here, the thing, that haunt, it had its ... I don’t know, like cords ... they were spread out from it, each through the head of one of the bums. Then it got Fedrik and Jons and Signon. I can’t believe Martin turned yellow.”

  “He always did have a weak liver,” Gunnerson growled. “I ought to wring his neck.”

  “Leave him be,” Ravic said. “We were the fools for staying. He was right to run. Guns didn’t hurt it.”

  “Then why did it go?”

  Ravic’s broad shoulders rose and fell. Gesturing to the scattered corpses, he said, “Reckon it was full.” Gingerly he felt the skull of the man in front of him. “There’s no holes. If those cords went in like you say, Syd, they didn’t leave a mark.”

  “That’s impossible,” Katya said.

  Syd cocked an eyebrow at Gunnerson. “Still don’t believe in ghosts?”

  The rain was thinning, and Katya began to see stars overhead, and the two moons. She kept expecting to see a strange, gelatinous winged shape sweep against the stars, but there was nothing. On the air she thought she detected lingering aromas, sulfur and ammonia and other, weirder things. What had that thing been? It hadn’t been a ghost, on that much she agreed with Gunnerson.
If nothing else, ghosts wouldn’t smell.

  Footsteps. Katya spun to see two dark shapes, a tall man in a suit and a fedora, and another man holding an umbrella over his head. The man in the fedora lit a cigarette, and flame lit his withered, corpse-like face.

  “Jack!” she said. For some reason she felt an unlikely rush of warmth at seeing him.

  Jack nodded to her, his face hard. By the light of the newly emerging stars, Katya saw that his face was somehow less withered than before. It was smoother, less wrinkled. He looked around at the bodies lying in the filth and said, “This one hit close to home,”

  Ravic rose slowly. “The next one will be in the Factory itself at this rate. Maybe in my fucking lap.”

  “You think that’s deliberate? You think the haunts are targeting you?”

  Ravic didn’t answer. He turned his attention to Gunnerson and the tall man. “Could you go and gather some men to see to these boys? They deserve a funeral of some sort.”

  “And the bums?” asked Syd. “Shall we throw ‘em in the furnace? Or maybe they’d be more amusing brought back as Returners ...”

  “Bury them, too,” Ravic said. “Now go. Give us a moment.”

  They moved off, hunkering their shoulders under the thinning rain. When they were some distance away, Jack said, “Did you get a good look at it? The haunt?”

  Ravic let out a breath. “No. But Syd said he saw something. Someone. Burnig Big-Top.”

  “Bob Burn? But he disappeared. Loqrin took him ...”

  Katya felt a large, rough hand on her shoulder, and she jumped. She looked up to Ravic’s face, framed by starlight. He looked old. “What do you say now, girl? We need you.”

  She crossed her arms over her small chest. She felt cold, wet and tired. “First of all, you’re insane. Second ... you want me to spy on someone that might doing this. Third ...”

  “Yes?”

  She sighed. “Tell me about him.”

  Ravic and Jack exchanged glances.

  “I didn’t say I would do it,” she cautioned. “But, I mean, if I were inclined to, how would I get close to him? Join his organization?”