Dark War

FOURTEEN

"Who's Gregor?" Bogdan asked.

I ignored him and continued focusing on Shamika.

"Gregor can't have a sister. The Watchers are a group mind that share a single consciousness."

"Gregor is only one manifestation of that consciousness," Shamika said. "I'm another.

"But you don't look anything like Gregor." I kept my gaze – and my 9mm – on Shamika, but I spoke to Bogdan and Varney now. "Gregor was – is – some kind of insect thing. A giant roach with obsidian gems for eyes. And his component parts are miniature versions of him. He posed as an information broker located in the Boneyard. His insects traveled throughout Nekropolis, watching from the shadows, gathering information, eventually returning to Gregor to report what they'd learned. But Gregor had his own reasons for gathering as much knowledge as he could, and they had nothing to do with turning a profit. When Dis and the Darklords first traveled to this dimension to build Nekropolis, they discovered something was already living here. Millions, hell, maybe trillions of small insect-like creatures. The native life form didn't appear to be intelligent and showed no reaction to the Darklords' arrival. So the Darklords thought no more about them and began the work of creating their great city.

"Turns out the life forms were sentient, but their group intelligence was so different from that of any Earth creature, the Darkfolk included, that it didn't even recognize the newcomers as life forms, for it had no concept of Otherness. But as the centuries passed, the intelligence's insect components infiltrated the city and secretly watched the citizens of Nekropolis, eventually coming to understand Otherness – and to hate it.

"The Watchers' group mind created Gregor as a mask for itself, a way to interact with Darkfolk and study them more directly. It gathered all the knowledge it could, with the ultimate goal of finding a way to destroy the Others who'd invaded its home dimension. Once the Darkfolk were no more, things would return to the way they were, the way they were supposed to be, and the Watchers would be alone once more."

I paused and looked hard at Shamika. "How am I doing so far?"

"I'd argue some of the details, but your tale is essentially accurate."

"Good," I said, a sarcastic tone in my voice. "I wouldn't want to misrepresent you." I went on with my story. "Last Descension Day, Gregor stole a magical artifact called the Dawnstone from Lord Galm. The Dawnstone was the only object in Nekropolis capable of emitting actual sunlight, and Gregor planned to use it to disrupt the Renewal Ceremony. Umbriel does more than provide the shadowy half-light that illuminates the city. The Shadowsun's power keeps Phlegethon burning and maintains the city in this dimension. Gregor planned to use the Dawnstone to kill Father Dis, and without his power, the five Darklords wouldn't be able to recharge Umbriel on their own. The Shadowsun would fade away, Phlegethon would go out, and the deadly energies of this dimension would pour into the city, destroying everyone in it. And Gregor would've succeeded if Devona and I hadn't stopped him.

Afterward, Dis paid Gregor a visit and used his vast power to erase him from existence, along with every other Watcher in the city. Or so I thought."

"All true," Shamika said. A slight smile then moved across her lips. "But it's not the whole story."

I kept my gun trained on her. "Then why don't you tell us the rest of it?"

Before Shamika could go on, Bogdan interrupted. "Do we really need to keep standing here in the hallway like this, with you waving your gun around like some kind of zombie cowboy, ready to shoot first and ask questions later?"

"I am not waving it around," I said. "I'm holding it rock-steady. And in point of fact, I'm asking questions now, and I have yet to fire a single bullet." Still, I understood what the warlock was trying to get at. Shamika hadn't made a threatening move toward any of us in the time I'd known her, and she was cooperating with my interrogation. And if she really was a Watcher, even the special ammunition in my gun probably wouldn't do much more than tickle her. What finally broke the tension for me, though, was the tiny breeze that blew through my hair. Rover was back – small and weak, but he was still alive, if that word can be applied to a creature made entirely from magic – and he was recovering. I made a decision.

"I guess we're not going to find Devona standing around like this." It was awkward using my left hand, but I managed to holster my gun. Then I bent down and picked up the spent reverser. The talisman would be useless until Devona could get it recharged, but I didn't want to leave it lying around. The damn things were incredibly expensive, and Devona only owned a couple. I vowed to hold onto this one and give it back to her when I saw Devona again. And I would see her again, even if I had to open a Kongar-sized can of whup-ass on the entire city to make it happen.

"You can still call me Shamika if you like. It's a good name, isn't it? I got it from a woman who works as a chef at the Six-Legged Cafe. I figured that since she cooks insects, and my people resemble insects…" She grinned as if she was making a joke, but when none of us reacted, her smile fell away. "I thought it was kind of funny. I guess I don't fully understand humor yet."

We were back in the great room. I stood at my usual place by the illusory fire, Varney once again leaned on the wall opposite me, but this time only Shamika sat on the couch. Bogdan was standing over next to me. We'd taken a moment to check on Tavi. The lyke was still unconscious, but the lower half of his body had begun to regenerate. The healing was proceeding at a glacial pace, and it might be days before he was whole again, if not longer, but at least he was healing.

Varney's optic implant had completely repaired itself by now, and his cybernetic eye glowed red. I had no doubt it functioned as a weapon as well as a camera, and though I'd chosen to holster my gun, I suspected Varney was – not to make a pun – keeping his eye on Shamika.

"But you don't look like an insect," Varney said. "You look human."

"I can look like whatever I want," Shamika said. "We didn't have any form before the Darklords arrived. We were one vast shadowy creature, stretching for hundreds of miles in all directions. But when the Darklords saw us moving and rippling in the dark, one of them thought we resembled a carpet of black insects, and so we took that form."

"Insects with obsidian gems for eyes?" Bogdan said.

"It was Varvara, wasn't it?" I said. "She was the Darklord who accidentally gave you form, and you gained gem-like eyes because she thought of a demonic version of an insect."

"That's right," Shamika said. "We kept that form for many years, even after we began to become aware of the Darkfolk as Others. Insects can go anywhere in a city. There are thousands of places to hide, and when insects are spotted, no one pays them much attention. It was a perfect guise to wear while we conducted our observations. But we are not limited to that form."

I thought of murals I'd seen on the walls of the Nightspire depicting images of the Darkfolk's origins and evolution. The Darkfolk had begun as amorphous shadow creatures that were psycho-reactive, and as humans evolved, the Darkfolk took on shapes and attributes inspired by humanity's fears and nightmares. The Shadowings evolved naturally, but humans had turned them into the Darkfolk. From what Shamika was saying, it sounded like something similar had happened in this dimension. Only in this case, it was the Darkfolk who had unwittingly turned the native life form into the Watchers.

A couple more pieces of the puzzle fell into place for me then. "When you got blasted outside Overhexed, I saw you fall apart, just like I did. Except that you were separated into your component pieces, and all you had to do was reassemble them. And those chiranha you called upon to deal with Magilla. They weren't really chiranha at all, were they? They were more components of you that took on the form of chiranhas."

"Right on both counts," Shamika said. "Since I'm not really Arcane, I can't perform any magic. I know lots about magic," she hastened to add. "I know all kinds of things from my years observing the Darkfolk. I just can't work any spells. So I used my abilities to fake magic powers."

"Why masquerade as a human?" I asked. "And why pose as Papa Chatha's niece in particular?"

I remembered when we'd been in Papa's workroom, and Dis appeared and froze time for everyone but him and me. He'd given Shamika a look then, almost as if he'd known who and what she was, but he hadn't said anything to me about it. Maybe he'd just sensed something odd about her but hadn't been able to put his finger on it. Then again, he was Father Dis, the single most powerful creature among all the Darkfolk that had ever existed. I had a hard time believing he hadn't recognized Shamika as a Watcher. But if he had, why hadn't he done anything about it? Why hadn't he at least warned me?

"I told you that Gregor and I are different manifestations of the same consciousness. Gregor is the part of us that fears Otherness. I am the part that is intrigued by it. Where he observes in order to gain knowledge to destroy the Darkfolk, I observe simply because I wish to learn more about you. I take on humanoid form so that I can move freely among you and interact." She smiled playfully, looking like the teenage girl she resembled. "It's a lot more fun that way. As for why I posed as Papa Chatha's niece… well, that's more complicated." Her smile faded. "Dis did destroy every one of us in Nekropolis after Gregor's plot to stop the Renewal Ceremony failed. Dis killed us all – both those who were Gregor and those who were me. But even though Dis is a god by your standards, even his power has limits, and only those Watchers within the city were slain. So we waited a bit and then more of us simply moved in." A ghost of her smile returned. "Just like real insects, we're damn hard to get rid of."

"But if Dis destroyed you both, how do you still have your memories?" I asked.

"We're not the same as you. Our memories aren't stored within a single body or even a thousand bodies for that matter." She pointed to the stump of my right wrist. "It's more like your injury. You've lost a hand, but you haven't lost the essence of who you are. It was the same with us."

I was about to ask Shamika another question when I had the strangest sensation that my right hand was moving – except of course I had no right hand. It was with Devona, wherever she was. I chalked the sensation up to the phantom limb syndrome that amputees often experience and decided to leave it at that. But it was a really weird feeling.

Thinking of Devona made me realize something else, and I felt a surge of new hope.

"If you and Gregor are different aspects of the same mind, that means you know what he knows," I said, "which means you know what happened to Devona!"

"I'm sorry, Matt, but it doesn't work like that. I wish it did. Gregor and I might technically be the same mind, but our different… viewpoints, for lack of a better word, have caused us to become separated. Right now, we're more like one mind suffering from multiple personality disorder, and our separate personalities can't and won't communicate." She smiled sadly. "In fact, Gregor views me as the ultimate proof of the contaminating effects of Otherness. Where once we were one, now we're two. He blames the Darkfolk for this schism in our shared being, and it's only strengthened his determination to see you all destroyed."

"What's the point of being an unimaginably vast shadow creature if you don't have access to all your memories? It's a damned inefficient way to run a group mind, if you ask me." I sighed. "I should've known it wouldn't be that easy."

"I watched you and Devona stop Gregor from disrupting the Renewal Ceremony, and when I learned that Gregor was abducting Arcane, I knew he had come up with a new plan to destroy the Darkfolk. I like watching the Darkfolk. They're interesting, and I've learned so much from them. I won't let Gregor hurt them, and I'll do whatever it takes to stop him. I tried to discover what his plan is, but though I searched throughout the city, I couldn't find where he'd taken the Arcane, nor could I discover what he wanted them for. I knew I needed help, and I immediately thought of you and Devona. And once Papa Chatha was abducted, I knew how I could approach you. I was too afraid to come to you as myself. I feared you wouldn't trust me if you knew who and what I really was. But if I posed as Papa Chatha's niece… I kept watch on you, and when I learned you were going to see him, I got to his home before you, let myself in, and waited."

She smiled almost shyly at me. "I've watched you since you first came to Nekropolis, Matt. I've seen you help so many people, solve problems that seemed unsolvable, triumph against impossible odds… I knew if anyone could stop Gregor, it would be you."

"By Merlin's ingrown toenails!" Bogdan said, sounding half amused, half irritated. "She's one of your fans!"

I ignored the warlock's comment, mostly because I had no idea what to say in response. I wasn't sure how I felt about being entertainment for a Watcher, even a seemingly harmless one like Shamika.

"That was you I saw in Devona's room at the Fever House, wasn't it?" I said to her. "Or one of you, at any rate."

She nodded.

I frowned. "How did you manage to get into Papa's place? You said you can't work any magic, and the wardspells on it…" I stopped as the answer occurred to me. "At one time you secretly observed Papa deactivating the wardspells to enter his home, so you knew how to do it."

She smiled again, looking proud of herself. "Like I said, I know a lot of things."

"I wish you'd trusted me with the truth from the beginning," I said, "but I can understand why you didn't. I honestly don't know how I would've reacted if you had told us who you really were, so maybe it's best you didn't."

Another huge chunk of the mystery had made itself clear to me, but I didn't see how knowing Shamika's true identity made much difference. I'd already learned that Gregor was behind the Arcane abductions, and I could assume that he used the same technique to teleport his chosen targets as he'd used to snatch Devona. Shamika confirmed it for me when I asked a moment later.

"We can't perform magic, but that doesn't mean we can't make use of it," she said. "Each insect carries a small teleportation gem in place of one of its eyes.

"We can do more than change our shape," Shamika said. "We can change our scent as well. Gregor left the scent of Demonkin at the site of each abduction. Not strong evidence, but more than enough to convince Talaith, who has a highly suspicious and accusatory nature."

Yet another piece of the puzzle slid into place. "That's how Gregor lured us to the Grotesquerie. He imitated Papa Chatha's scent and laid a false trail for Tavi to find – a trail that ended at the Grotesquerie. And once Tavi was inside, Gregor's insects released Titanus, and then when we arrived, they released the rest of the monsters. Guess he wanted to stop us from finding out what he was up to." I frowned. "But why would he abduct Devona? She's not a magic-user. She deals with magic in her security work, but she doesn't actually cast spells."

"I understand why Gregor had to lure Devona outside to teleport her," Bogdan said. "The mystical defenses on the building prevent any of his insects from entering without one of us letting them in. What I don't understand is how he compelled Devona to go outside in the first place."

"I can answer that," Shamika said. "When Matt and Devona were investigating the theft of the Dawnstone, Devona agreed to carry one of Gregor's insects with her. At the time, they still believed Gregor was nothing more than an information broker, and that was the price he asked for his help. Unfortunately, she had to carry the insect inside her."

I shuddered at the memory of the insect burrowing its way into her ear. Devona's half-vampire physiology had allowed her to withstand the pain of the insect's entry into her body, but it had been far from pleasant for her.

"But that insect left her body after Gregor's plan to stop the Renewal Ceremony failed," I said.

"Yes, but it left some residue of itself behind," Shamika said. "Not enough to harm her, but enough to influence her mind should the need ever arise. Gregor wanted to abduct her, but he couldn't physically reach her in here, so he made her go outside using a post-hypnotic suggestion he telepathically implanted in her mind earlier, probably when we were at the Grotesquerie."

"But that brings us back to the question of why he wanted to abduct her," Bogdan said. "She isn't a magic-user, and it doesn't appear Gregor wants to hold her hostage. So why did her take her?"

I remembered then what Varvara had told Devona and I about our children during our visit to Demon's Roost.

I can't tell too much about them. The magic that surrounds them is too strong and too different from anything I've ever encountered before. But they're going to be very special children, that I can promise you.

A horrible realization occurred to me. "Devona might not possess magic, but our babies do – or at least they will. Strong magic. Varvara told us so. And when Galm visited us in the Fever House, he pretty much said the same thing, although at the time we all thought Devona was only going to have one child. Galm didn't know what kind of magic our children would have, but he said it would be powerful and he was determined to control it if he could."

"It's true," Varney said. "Lord Galm does believe your progeny will possess great power. But that's not the sole reason he charged me with protecting his daughter. He is truly concerned with her welfare."

"Forgive me for being skeptical," I said, "but I've never known a Darklord yet who wasn't concerned primarily with satisfying his or her own needs." Although Dis was different, I thought. He might be the darkest of dark gods, but I'd only known him to act in his people's best interest. Still, that didn't mean I trusted him fully.

"Believe what you wish," Varney said evenly. "It doesn't alter the truth."

I expected Varney to stand up for his lord and master, and I almost said so, but now wasn't the time to get sidetracked by petty bickering. We needed to stay focused so we could find Devona and stop Gregor from doing whatever nasty thing he was planning.

"Maybe Gregor plans to use the twins' magic somehow," I said. "Even if they aren't born yet." I felt a chill in my soul then, and I turned to Bogdan. "Will Gregor… I mean, in order to use the twins' magic, will he need to…" I couldn't bring myself to say it.

Bogdan put a hand on my shoulder. "If he intends to draw upon their power, he will need them alive and healthy. That means he won't harm them or their mother."

A wave of relief washed over me. Bogdan's words rang true. The Gregor I'd known was cold and calculating, not given to reacting emotionally. If it was in his best interests to keep Devona alive, he'd do so. I turned my attention back to the problem at hand. "But what does he need that power for?"

Before anyone else could speak, my vox let out with its obnoxious ring-ring-ring. Without thinking, I reached for it with my right hand, and though I no longer had a right hand, I once again felt the strange sensation of it moving. I used my left hand instead, pulled my vox out of my pocket, and opened it.

"Hello?" I said.

"Matt, I don't have a lot of time, so listen closely."

It was Scorch, and she was speaking softly, as if she didn't want to be overheard.

"Several squads of demons were deployed a few minutes ago, and the rumor going around Demon's Roost is that they're headed for the Midnight Watch. Supposedly Klamm's spies have come up with some kind of evidence linking you to the magic-users' abductions, and he wants you brought in for questioning. I've got to go before I'm caught talking to you. Good luck."

She disconnected before I could thank her. I tucked my vox back into my pocket, and told the others what she'd said.

"So since Gregor failed to kill you at the Grotesquerie, he's trying to frame you now," Bogdan said. "I wonder what evidence he created for Klamm's people to find."

It was the look on Shamika's face that made me realize the truth. I remembered the way she and Klamm had looked at one another in Demon's Roost, almost as if they'd recognized each other.

I looked at Shamika. "Klamm didn't need any evidence, did he? Because he's really Gregor in disguise."

She nodded. "I didn't know he'd taken another form until we were in Varvara's penthouse, and since you didn't know the truth about me then, I couldn't tell you about him. I'm sorry."

"It makes good tactical sense," Varney said. "It's a lot easier for him to use war as a distraction when he can take a direct hand in guiding Varvara's strategy."

"He's playing a dangerous game," I said. "He might be able to fool Varvara for a time, especially if her attention is focused on her war with Talaith, but she's a Darklord. He won't be able to fool her forever."

"Maybe he just needs to fool her long enough to accomplish whatever his ultimate goal is," Varney said.

"I hate to interrupt your theorizing," Bogdan said, "but have you forgotten what Scorch told you? Demons are on their way here to arrest you, Matt. You need to get out of here before-"

There was a loud pounding at the front door.

"-they arrive," he finished.

The portable Mind's Eye set that someone had brought into the great room to watch Varney's "improved" footage of me was still there. All the sets in the building were programmed to display images from the Midnight Watch's security cameras on command, so I activated this one and mentally commanded it to show us the view from the frontdoor camera. A squadron of demon soldiers had cordoned off the street and stood in ranks outside the Midnight Watch. They were all armed and had their weapons drawn and aimed at the front door. Which, I thought, was unfortunate for the poor sonofabitch who was currently knocking on it.

"That guy better hope his people don't have itchy trigger fingers," I said.

The demon resembled a satyr – horned, bearded, with hairy black goat legs – except his skin was turquoise and he had a mass of tentacles growing out of his back. He looked supremely unhappy at having been chosen for the dubious honor of knocking on my door, almost as if he feared it was booby-trapped and would explode in his face. Too bad it wasn't. Maybe I'd talk to Devona about adding that feature.

The demon might have been nervous, but when he spoke, his voice was deep and steady. "Matthew Richter! We know you're in there! In the name of the Darklord Varvara, we order you to exit the building and surrender to us for questioning!"

"Too bad Scorch didn't call a couple minutes earlier," I said. "We'd have had time to sneak out." I commanded the Mind's Eye to show us a view of the back entrance, and the scene was the same – a squad of armed demons stood outside, weapons aimed at the door. I checked the alley cameras and saw demons there as well. The roof camera showed several greasy black spots where flying demons had attempted to land, only to encounter the defenses in place there. A dozen more demons hovered twenty feet above the roof, weapons out and ready, unwilling to come any closer and risk sharing their comrades' fate, but still determined to catch anyone who might try to use the roof as an escape route.

I commanded the Mind's Eye to display the front view once more. The turquoise satyr was still talking, but he'd taken several steps back from the door, and a number of demons in the squad were hurriedly assembling some kind of large weapon in the street.

"If you refuse to turn yourself over to us voluntarily, we will be forced to come in and get you," the satyr said. "You have two minutes to decide."

Looking relieved to still be alive, the satyr turned away from the door and hurried to rejoin his fellow soldiers.

"What kind of weapon is that?" Bogdan asked.

I didn't have an answer for him, for I'd never seen anything quite like it before. There was an underlying metal framework that formed a pyramid shape, and into this framework demons slid metal panels with mouths attached to them. They were real mouths, not artificial constructs, surgically removed and affixed to the panels. It didn't take a genius to sense the maniacal hand of Victor Baron behind the device.

"It's a Blastphemer," Shamika said. "It's built from the bodies of dead sinners and focuses their negative energy for use as an offensive weapon."

We looked at her, and she smiled. "I know a lot of stuff, remember?"

Once the mouth panels were all in place, another demon came forward carrying a black sphere the size of an overinflated basketball, which he placed atop the point of the pyramid. Though there was no obvious parts to connect the sphere to the pyramid, it balanced on the point perfectly and remained there.

"That sphere contains distilled negative energy from the sinners' black hearts," Shamika said. "It's what gives the Blastphemer its power." I turned to Bogdan. "Have you ever heard of such a thing?"

"No. It's Demonkin magic, not Arcane, and it looks to have been technologically augmented as well."

"Do you think they'll be able to breach the Midnight Watch's defenses with it?" I asked.

"I have no idea," Bogdan said. "The building is old, and its stonework was suffused with magic long before Devona bought the place, and she's improved the defenses since then. But if Klamm – I mean Gregor – is as smart as you say he is, I doubt he'd send the demons to fetch you unless he knew the Blastphemer would allow them to break through our defenses."

"We need to assume they'll be able to get in then," I said. "There's no point in trying to stop them." "You can't give yourself up!" Shamika said.

"But if Matt goes along with them, maybe he can reach Varvara and tell her who and what Klamm really is…" Bogdan began.

Varney shook his head. "Whatever Gregor does, he won't take Matt to Demon's Roost. He won't risk Varvara discovering the truth."

"I can use my magic to conceal us all," Bogdan said. "I'll conjure an object that will make us invisible, then as long as we remain very still, the demons won't be able to find us once they break in."

"They'll have devices both magical and technological to help them search the place," I said. "If we're here, they'll find us."

"So we need to leave," Shamika said.

"Right. But we can't take Tavi with us. He's not up to traveling yet, and frankly, he'd just slow us down." I turned to Bogdan. "Go to Tavi's room and use your magic to conceal both of you. I'll draw the demons away from the Midnight Watch, and with any luck, they won't even come inside. After all, it's me they want. If I'm not here, they should have no reason to come in."

Bogdan looked as if he wanted to protest, but I added, "Tavi's our friend. We have to take care of him." Bogdan didn't look happy about it, but he nodded. "Good luck, Matt." He then hurried off to Tavi's room.

I didn't know how much time remained before the demons would start firing the Blastphemer, but I figured we didn't have long.

I turned to Varney. "Devona and I added a secret passage to the building not too long ago. It leads to…" I was under a geis not to speak directly about the Underwalk, and so I said, "- an alternate travel route that few people in Nekropolis know about. Shamika should, though." I looked at her and she nodded. "Good. Shamika, I want you to take Varney and-"

The video feed from the front security camera was still playing on the Mind's Eye set, and I saw a figure step out of the alley across the street. A figure that looked remarkably like me.

He waved the stump of his right wrist and called out cheerfully to the demons, "You guys looking for me?"

The demons all turned to look in "my" direction, and one standing next to the Blastphemer spoke a command and pointed at "me." The devices' mouths began speaking words that were so unholy that the Mind's Eye refused to transmit them as anything other than harsh static. The black sphere atop the Blastphemer began to pulse with dark energy, and then a beam of power shot forth, streaked across the street toward the alley, and struck my doppelganger in the chest. He stiffened, let out an agonized cry as if his very soul was in pain, and then collapsed into a puddle of black goo.

The Blastphemer's beam winked out, and for a moment the demons simply stood and stared. Then one of the braver ones stepped forward and examined the ebon puddle that my doppelganger had been reduced to. He leaned down, sniffed the goo several times, then stood, turned back to his fellow soldiers, and gave them a thumbs-up. The squad then broke into cheers, and their work done, they set about dismantling the Blastphemer.

"Did I overdo it?" Shamika asked. "I was afraid the death-cry was a bit much, but I couldn't resist."

I remembered what Shamika had told us about how she could make herself look like whatever she wished. She'd created a decoy resembling me and had sacrificed it to throw the demons off my trail.

"I thought your component pieces had to touch each other to communicate," I said.

"That's the easiest way, but we can communicate by low-level telepathy if we're close enough," she said. "Good thing I did that. The Blastphemer packs quite a punch. That stung like hell!"

I couldn't help smiling at her choice of words. "I think that's the general idea."

Devona and I had built the entrance to the Underwalk in one of the storage rooms, so after checking on Tavi one last time and saying goodbye to Bogdan, then Shamika, Varney, and I went into the storage room, through the trapdoor, and down the ladder into the Underwalk. An electric cart was parked by the ladder, a ramshackle device cobbled together from cast-off odds and ends, some mechanical, some organic, and some indeterminate.

Varney eyed the cart skeptically, but once he saw it held together when Shamika and I got on, he climbed in after us and took a seat in the back. I started the cart, turned on the headlights, and we headed down the tunnel. It wasn't very wide or tall, but there was room enough for two carts to pass by one another, if only just.

"The cart may not look like much, but it works just fine," I said. "Its makers abhor waste, and they recycle everything. Their tech may not be pretty – and its smell may leave something to be desired – but it's always functional."

"What makers?" Varney asked. "And what is this place?"

"I can't tell you," I said. "I've been magically sworn to secrecy. If I even try to tell you, my tongue will explode and take my head with it – quite literally."

"But I can tell you," Shamika said. "These tunnels are called the Underwalk, and they were created by the Dominari so that they could move throughout the city undetected. The Underwalk exists in all five Dominions, but you can't use it to cross from one Dominion to the other because Phlegethon blocks the way. You still have to use the bridges for that. The Dominari tried to dig under Phlegethon, but its fire extends downward for so many miles that eventually they gave up."

Varney's eyebrows rose. "The Dominari? I didn't know you associated with criminals, Matt. Then again, you were imprisoned in Tenebrus for a time." His tone clearly indicated his disapproval.

"I was imprisoned on a false charge, and I received a full pardon," I said. "But don't worry that Galm is going to be upset that his future son-in-law has ties to the Dominari. All the Darklords know about them. Dis too. They couldn't do business in the city without the Lords' approval, tacit though it might be. The Dominari operate a literal underground economy, and whatever you or I might think about their activities, they're necessary for the city's survival."

Most people know the Dominari as Nekropolis' version of the mob, and that's true enough as it goes, but there's more to it than that. Nekropolis is as self-sustaining as a city can be, producing its own goods and services for the most part, and importing anything else it might need from Earth. But the Dominari fill in the cracks in the city's economy, and without them, Nekropolis couldn't go on. As a former cop, I'm uncomfortable with the situation, to say the least, but as a pragmatist, I understand it.

"And your connection to them is…" Varney asked.

"Something I can't talk about. The tongue thing again, remember? But I'm no criminal, if that's what you're asking."

He thought about this for a moment and finally nodded. "Very well. I've observed you long enough to believe you're a trustworthy man. I'll accept your word on that matter."

"What about you?" I said. "How did you get to be a secret agent for Lord Galm?"

He shrugged. "There's little to tell. As you might imagine, Galm has many servants, and he uses us as he sees fit. I have a talent for pretending to be someone I'm not. Centuries ago, when I was human, I dreamed about being an actor, and in a way, I suppose I've become one."

"I'm no theatre critic, but as far as I'm concerned, you played the part of an annoying airheaded cameraman to perfection."

He smiled, showing a hint of fang. "Thank you."

"Where are we going?" Shamika said, sounding more like a kid eager to get on with the next fun activity than an ancient alien entity struggling to defeat the darker half of her personality. Maybe in a way this was fun for her. I wondered what it was like, observing the Darkfolk for four hundred years, getting to know them in intimate detail, but never actually being part of their lives. Never actually living. I couldn't imagine how lonely it must've been.

"I've been thinking about that," I said. "If we're going to find Devona, we need to confront Gregor. And since he's masquerading as General Klamm right now, that means we need to get into Demon's Roost. But we have to do so on our terms, not his."

"And there's the little matter of a demon army standing between us and him," Varney pointed out.

"Correct. Which means that we're going to need help. The kind of help that specializes in dealing with Darkfolk in general, and demons in particular."

Varney's organic eye widened in surprise. "You can't mean…"

I smiled. "Yep. We're going to pay a visit on the Hidden Light."