Dead Streets

TEN

"Don't take this the wrong way, Rex, but I sincerely hoped I'd never see your butt ugly face again."

"I bet," Rex growled.

For reasons that were still unclear to me about a year earlier Lycanthropus Rex had gone on a rampage in the Sprawl one night when I happened to be working on a separate case. I was in the right place at the right time (or maybe wrong place, wrong time – take your pick) to stop him. When the dust settled, seventeen people were dead, thirty-two were injured and Papa Chatha had to reattach all four of my limbs. Rex had been taken away by the Sentinels and cast down into Tenebrus.

Rex walked up to join Rondo, and while I was gratified to see the lyke also kept his distance from me, the feeling was tempered by the knowledge of how much firepower he packed. I'd been lucky as hell during our last encounter and even then I'd barely defeated him. I didn't think much of my chances to win a rematch, let alone survive it.

"I never met Rondo before today," Rex said, "but he and I have something in common. We've both spent every minute since we were thrown into this shithole dreaming about someday getting a chance to tear you to fucking pieces. And you know something, zombie? That day's today." He grinned, displaying a mouthful of sharp canine teeth. "Who says dreams don't come true?"

Rondo began to step away from Rex then and I knew what was coming. Lycanthropus Rex was going to show his fellow inmates how he'd come by his name. A lyke's transformation from human to wild form is usually a rapid one, but with Rex it took a bit longer, I think because he got off on watching people's reactions when he changed. And I had to admit, the man put on a hell of a show.

There were two separate aspects to his change. First came the standard shift from humanoid to animalistic features and in Rex's case that animal was a wolf. Thick tufts of brown fur sprang forth from his skin, his fingernails darkened and lengthened into ebon claws, his ears became pointed and moved farther up on his skull and his mouth and nose blended into a canine snout. His already intimidating teeth became longer and razor sharp and his eyes – while still blazing with human intelligence – became a feral yellow. But as impressive as that change was, the second part of the transformation was what really made you want to drop a load in your shorts.

Rex began to grow. And when I say grow, I don't just mean Rex put on a few dozen extra pounds of monster muscle and another foot or two of scary height. This son of a bitch grew. He stood about 5'5" in human form but as he assumed werewolf shape he increased in size to seven feet tall, eight, nine, ten – and he kept on growing. His clothes had been loose on him when he'd started changing, but they soon grew tight, then split at the seams and fell away to become nothing more than torn rags lying on the ground.

Everyone in the vicinity was watching the spectacle of Lycanthropus Rex's transformation – everyone, that is, except Rondo. He was watching me and grinning like it was Christmas morning and Santa Claus had brought him a pair of gold-plated hand exercisers.

"You liking this, Richter?" he asked, grinning. "Because I'm loving it!"

Fifteen feet… twenty… twenty-five… and Rex's growth showed no signs of stopping.

One of the things about monsters is that they're so used to being well, monstrous. Like animals facing off in the wild, they often seek to intimidate one another with displays of size, strength and ferocity before attacking, partly because – like Rex – they enjoyed scaring their victims first. And if, also like Rex, you can scare other monsters… well, it just doesn't get any better than that. So while Rex was busy frightening the piss out of everyone within eyeshot, I had a few precious moments in which to act.

First I checked my pants pockets to see if I was carrying anything that might prove useful in combating a gargantuan wolfman. I usually carry all my best weapons in my suit jacket, though, and what I had left was even less deadly than the sneezing powder I'd used against Rondo. And even if the Sentinel hadn't taken my jacket and gun from me back at the Nightspire none of my weapons would've had much effect on Lycanthropus Rex. My 9mm was loaded with silver bullets that had been dipped in a solution of holy water and garlic along with a few other herbs and chemicals given to me by Papa Chatha that make them effective on just about any creature I might encounter in Nekropolis. The silver in my bullets might've killed Rex when he was normal sized, but now… But I didn't have my gun, so the matter was academic. What I needed was a weapon powerful enough to slay even a giant werewolf, preferably one I could get my hands on in the next several moments.

Something like Gnasher's dire blade.

I glanced at the verman and the She Creature who still held him in a tight grip. I couldn't just run over and try to grab hold of the dire blade, though. For one thing I didn't know where Gnasher kept it. In his jacket, I assumed, but since his pockets seemed bottomless, it was possible there were other enchantments on his frock coat that would prevent anyone else form locating the blade, let alone taking it off his person. But that wasn't what made me hesitate. I may be unique among Nekropolis's zombies, but there's one thing I share with my dead brothers and sisters: I'm slow. If I made a go for Gnasher's blade I'd move so slowly that both Rondo and the She Creature would guess what I was up to and one or both of them would stop me. If I wanted a chance at Gnasher's dire blade I'd have to use my head. Good thing Victor Baron had put it back on for me.

"You know, Rondo, you didn't have to go to all this trouble," I said. "If you want to destroy me, all you have to do is walk on over and give me a close-up look at your face. The shock would be so intense that I'd probably just collapse into a pile of dust on the spot."

Rondo's grin gave way to a truly impressive scowl.

"Laugh it up, Richter," he snarled. "That's the last joke you're ever going to make."

"No it's not. This is: when you were born, you were so ugly the doctor couldn't tell which end was your ass, so he slapped both ends just to make sure."

Rondo roared with fury and came racing toward me, ham-hands outstretched and ready to cause some serious damage.

I had to time this just right. When Rondo was almost upon me I sidestepped and angled my body so that instead of grabbing me his right hand struck me a glancing blow on the shoulder. I didn't feel the blow, of course, and I allowed the impact to spin me around, and I stumbled toward Gnasher and the She Creature, trying my best to make it look like an accident. As ungainly as I was I didn't have to try very hard.

The verman guessed what I was up to, for as I collided with him, he whispered, "Inside front pocket," and spoke a couple words in a language I was unfamiliar with. Some sort of mystic phrase I figured, designed to deactivate whatever enchantment protected Gnasher's blade. Before the She Creature could react I reached into the jacket and I felt cloth part beneath my fingers as if it were a living thing willingly opening itself to me. I found the hilt of the dire blade, grabbed hold of it and pulled it free of Gnasher's jacket. I'd never touched a dire blade before and I was surprised to feel a sensation of intense cold as my fingers wrapped around the handle. The sudden feeling in my dead flesh was so startling to me that I almost dropped the weapon, but I managed to hold on to it.

I spun around, ready to wield the dire blade against Rondo with deadly efficiency. But before I could do anything Rondo grabbed my wrist with one of his giant hands and squeezed. I heard bones splinter and my now-useless fingers sprung open and the dire blade tumbled to the ground.

Rondo's grin was back.

"Nice try."

"I have to admit, I'd have preferred to kill the three of you myself," I said, "but I suppose I'll just have to be satisfied with letting Keket's people do it for me."

I pointed with my left hand and – still holding on to my broken wrist – Rondo turned to look. A half dozen jackalheads were rapidly approaching from different directions, as were a trio of silver skulled Overwatchers.

"You really didn't think Lycanthropus Rex could transform without drawing the guards' attention, did you?" I asked.

Rondo said nothing, but he continued to hold my crushed wrist as we both watched the jackal-heads go to work. When they were within twenty feet of Rex – who had by this time reached his full fifty-foot height – they stopped, leveled their golden spears and released blasts of energy at the giant wolfman. Rex roared more in anger than pain and lunged toward one of the guards, snatching him up in one gigantic paw with a single swift swipe. Rex squeezed and the guard let out a scream as the life was crushed out of him. Rex then hurled the body at another guard, taking him out with truly impressive aim.

One of the Overwatchers glided toward Rex from behind and twin beams of light lanced forth from its silvery sockets to strike the gargantuan wolfman directly between the shoulder blades. From Rex's bellow of agony it was clear that whatever energy the skull emitted it was more effective than that produced by the jackalheads' spears. But however powerful the energy blast was it didn't slow Rex down. He whirled about, snatched hold of the Overwatcher and hurled it to the ground. The metallic skull hit not far from where I was standing and I saw the device break open like a large silvery egg, spilling out electronic components, blood and bits of brain matter. Victor Baron built his creations to last, but even his genius hadn't anticipated the Overwatchers going up against a creature of Lycanthropus Rex's power. A second later the Overwatcher exploded in a spectacular flash of light and fire.

Seeing an Overwatcher brought down, the prisoners in the area let up a cheer and, emboldened by seeing how easily Rex had dealt with Keket's guards, they began to riot. Inmates turned to whoever happened to be standing close to them and began hitting, clawing and biting – sometimes all three at once. Jackalheads fired energy blasts and Overwatchers unleashed eye beams in all directions, hoping to quell the riot before it could spread too far, but they might as well have been trying to hold back a tsunami with a few sandbags and a whole lot of good intentions. Within moments the fighting had spread throughout the entire general population as near as I could tell from where I stood and the canyon air was filled with the sounds of hundreds of beings beating hell out of each other. On impulse I glanced upward toward the balcony from which Keket had dropped me down to the canyon floor and I saw the mistress of Tenebrus standing there, gripping the railing with cloth wrapped fingers, face hidden behind her golden mask. I remembered what Gnasher had told me about how Keket was entertained by watching the inmates fight. If so, the undead sorceress was undoubtedly ecstatic right then.

I was used to matters going from bad to worse – it's pretty much standard operating procedure for me – but this was bad even by my standards. I could've tried to slip away from Rondo and Rex in the confusion and lose myself among the rioters, but I didn't want to abandon Gnasher. He might have been Dominari but he'd taken care of me since I'd been tossed into the general population and I owed him. Besides, the thought of running from lowlifes like Rondo and Rex made my dead stomach turn. Still, I had no idea what I could do at this point. If I was faster I might've made a lunge for the dire blade lying on the ground, but if I so much as twitched in the weapon's direction the She Creature would snap Gnasher in half like a white furred twig.

I felt gentle fingers of thought brush my mind, the sensation both familiar and very welcome.

Don't worry, love. I know someone who specializes in fast.

I saw a blur of motion and felt the pressure of a breeze whip past and suddenly I was holding the dire blade in my left hand – which was good since Rondo still had hold of my broken right wrist and the hand attached to it was useless now.

Thanks, Tavi, I thought and swung the dire blade toward Rondo's chest. The Creeper's gaze was fixed on Lycanthropus Rex who was still battling jackalheads and Overwatchers and thus didn't see the strike coming. Not that it mattered. My arm swung wild and instead of driving the ebony blade deep into Rondo's chest it swept through empty air.

See? You should've let Victor Baron fix that when you had the chance!

I didn't respond to Devona, partially because I didn't have any time, but mostly because she was right, and it irritated me.

Rondo must've caught the motion of my failed strike out of the corner of his eye for he turned to face me and without hesitation rammed a fist into my face. I felt nothing, but given the force with which he struck, if I hadn't been dead already, I'm sure the blow would've killed me. As it was my nose was reduced to pulp and I'm pretty sure my skull was fractured. Rondo had maintained his hold on my right wrist with his other hand and now he yanked me back toward him, intending to hit me again. But there was another blur as something whipped past us and a stream of liquid splashed into Rondo's eyes. Rondo screamed as Tavi's cobra venom did its job and the Creeper released his hold on my wrist so that he could use both hands to frantically try to clear the venom from his eyes.

With Rondo momentarily out of commission I turned to Gnasher and the She Creature. Seeing Rondo get injured – and more importantly, seeing me standing before her gripping a dire blade – she tightened her hold on Gnasher and the verman shrieked in pain.

"Stay where you're at, zombie, or the rat-man dies!" she said in a gurgly voice, as if she had a throat full of mouthwash.

"You know, it's a policy of mine never to listen when someone threatens me, but considering that a friend of mine is walking up behind you as we speak, I think I'll make exception this time."

The She Creature let out a laugh that sounded like a water balloon bursting. "You don't seriously expect me to fall for that old trick, do you?"

"It's no trick," I said, "and yes, I do expect you to fall – hard."

The She Creature frowned, perhaps realizing from my tone that something wasn't quite adding up here. A moment later she realized what it was when a scaly clawed hand clamped down on her shoulder and burst into flame. The She Creature screamed in agony at Scorch's fiery touch, and while the demon might not have been able to suck the moisture out of a water monster with the ruthless efficiency of a dehydra, she was no slouch in that department. The She Creature's armored plates quickly dried and tiny cracks fissured across their surfaces. She released Gnasher and the verman fled, moving with a swiftness that would've done Tavi proud, and disappeared into the crowd.

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.

The 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.

Devona reached into the small bag again and this time pulled out a necklace made from dried chicken feet strung on braided strands of black hair – dead man's hair, I guessed. Before I could ask about it she placed the ugly thing around my neck and I felt a strange sensation of warmth pass through me briefly and then it was gone.

"What was that?"

"I knew that once we got you out of Tenebrus, Keket would search for you and the Adjudicators would probably get involved too. We need to conceal you from any tracking magic they might use so Papa created a charm that temporarily binds your spirit with that of one of the lower ranking Loa. It'll only last a few days, but during that time it will block the effects of any spell used against you. While you wear it you will be undetectable by magic and anyone who runs a magical scan on you will only detect the voodoo spirit's presence."

Having a security expert for a lover is a wonderful thing sometimes.

"What about scientific scans?" I asked.

"The charm won't affect those, but that sort of tech is rare in the city, so you should be safe enough."

"What about my scent?" I asked. There are any number of creatures in Nekropolis with enhanced senses – vampire and lykes chief among them. They'd be able to smell that I was a zombie.

Tavi was sitting behind us and he leaned forward to answer my question.

"Since you're now fresh your scent has only the vaguest hint of decay to it. Bloodborn have a somewhat similar scent so if you remain close to Devona you shouldn't arouse any suspicion."

Tavi was a lyke so I figured that his advice was sound.

"Looks like you've covered most of the bases," I said to Devona. "I can't be tracked by magic and for the most part I look and smell human again. Now all I need is a disguise."

"I've got that covered, too." She reached into the duffle bag and pulled out a black great coat with a double row of ivory buttons down the front. She thrust it at me. "Put it on."

As I donned the coat she pulled a large black hat out of the duffle. It was flattened a bit and she quickly reshaped it and plopped it on my head.

"There! Just the thing for an escaped convict on the run," she said.

She said this lightly, trying to make a joke of it, but for the first time I realized that I was a criminal now. I might have been sentenced to Tenebrus for a crime I hadn't committed but I had chosen to escape the prison. I'd rationalized my act by telling myself that I hadn't had a real trial, let alone a formal one, and the only way I could hope to clear my name was if I was free to investigate the theft of Lord Edrigu's bone flute by myself. And while both of those things might be true it was also true that I'd broken the law. I was used to bending the law in my line of work, and when I did, I always told myself that it was necessary to get the job done and that I was doing it to find some measure of justice for my clients. But this time I hadn't just bent a law – I'd shattered it, and I'd done so for myself and no one else. I was still trying to right a wrong, so that hadn't changed, but somehow that didn't help me feel any better.

The great coat fit well, and while it was a little too stylishly neo-noir for my tastes, I had to admit it looked kind of snazzy.

"This is nice," I told Devona. "Where did you get it?"

Bogdan answered instead. "It's just something I had hanging around in my closet, but I'm glad you like it, Matt."

Great. Not only was I an escaped criminal, I was going on the run wearing one of Bogdan's hand -me downs. This day just kept going from bad to worse.

At least now I understood why Devona had dyed her hair and changed her own outfit: to disguise herself as well. She and I were too recognizable as a couple around the city, especially in the Sprawl, where we lived and worked.

"Thanks for everything," I told her, sounding less than thrilled. "Looks like I'm all set."

She frowned then, looking at me as if trying to read my thoughts, though if she'd really been trying, I'd have felt her probing my mind.

What was my problem? I should've been grateful for Devona's preparations, and I suppose on one level I was, but I was also upset about them, though I wasn't sure why. I decided to chalk up my mixed feelings to stress. After all, I'd experienced more than my fair share lately and I told myself not to worry about it.

One thing I was worried about was the price Devona had paid to the Dominari for their help. I was dying to ask her, but I didn't want to do so in front of her employees. I had no idea whether they'd been privy to her negotiations with the vermen – though knowing my love, I guess she'd negotiated in private – and I didn't want to put Devona on the spot by asking her for details right then. I decided to wait until we were alone.

"So now what?" I said, thinking aloud. I hadn't really intended it as a question for anyone, but Devona answered anyway.

"We can't go to any of your usual haunts -" she grinned at the joke – "so to speak. Once Keket reports your escape to Quillion, Sentinels from all over the city will be looking for you. That means we'll have to start out in the one place in Nekropolis you'd never set foot in."

I didn't like where this was headed.

"You don't mean-"

Devona grinned wider.

"Yep. Get ready, cowboy. We're heading to Westerna's."