Nekropolis

THIRTEEN

“Are you out of your worm-eaten mind?” Lazlo shouted as he swerved to avoid a being that resembled a pair of giant Siamese frogs.

“I’ve gone through Glamere a couple times since my run-in with Talaith,” I said. “And you’ve taken me on nearly every occasion. We got through okay then.”

“That’s because of my finely honed driving skills and a hell of a lot of luck.” Lazlo roared across the Bridge of Nine Sorrows, taking us from the Sprawl and back into Gothtown. “But luck doesn’t hold forever, Matt-and you’ve used more than your fair share over the last couple years.”

“Life’s a gamble, Lazlo.” Especially when you might only have a day or two of it left. “The case I’m working on is stalled, and I need Gregor to give it a jump start. Besides, if you think about it, this is the safest time for me to cross Glamere. Talaith is undoubtedly conserving her strength for the Renewal Ceremony. She won’t have the time-or the energy-to worry about me.”

“Maybe,” the demon allowed, “but if your bones end up hanging on a wall in Woodhome, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Duly noted.” I sat back against the seat and turned to Devona. “Maybe you should think about letting us drop you off before we get to Glamere. If Talaith detects my presence, things will get very ugly, very fast.”

“I understand the risk involved, but I still want to go. It’s my problem we’re trying to solve, after all. And I’ve never been to Glamere or the Boneyard. Besides,”-she paused-“I think we make a good team.”

I smiled. “I think you’re right.”

We didn’t say much more after that, just sat, gripped the armrests, and prayed that Lazlo wouldn’t swerve off the Obsidian Way and slam us into a building. After a time, we drew near the Bridge of Shattered Dreams, the entrance to Glamere. As we drove across, I hoped the bridge’s name wouldn’t turn out to an omen of things to come.

Glamere-the Dominion of the Arcane, the magic workers of Nekropolis-is a series of medieval villages nestled in a bucolic countryside. The buildings range from simple huts and shacks to wood-and-stone houses with thatched roofs. Nearly every house has a garden full of herbs, flowers, and plants, some recognizable, most not…and some which sway and undulate as if more than just exotic-looking vegetables. Emblazoned on the outside of each building, sometimes in crude soot-drawn lines, sometimes in elaborately painted colors, are an infinite array of hex signs. I couldn’t decipher any of them, so I asked Devona.

“I only recognize those that serve as wardspells,” she said. “As to the rest, your guess is as good as mine.”

The roads in Glamere are little more than unpaved wagon routes for the most part, but since we were traveling on the Obsidian Way, our ride was smooth and we made good time. We often saw fires in the distance, probably surrounded by chanting witches and warlocks celebrating the Descension in their own pagan way. Besides producing most of the city’s spells, potions, and magic devices, Glamere was also the primary farming center, and on a normal day we might have run into (literally, with Lazlo driving) ox-drawn carts full of produce or herds of animals being brought in from pasture. But this was Descension Day. No one was working and aside from Lazlo’s cab, the Obsidian Way was thankfully deserted.

If I’d been alive I would have been holding my breath ever since we’d crossed over into Talaith’s Dominion. But we were halfway across Glamere-or at least I thought we were; it’s hard to judge distance since there are no road markers or prominent landmarks-and nothing had happened yet. I actually allowed myself to start thinking this was going to be the easiest part of the case yet.

Stupid of me.

Lightning flashed across the sky, startling me. Not because I’m afraid of storms, but because Nekropolis normally doesn’t have weather. No sun, only Umbriel’s eternal shadowlight, no heat, no rain, no snow-nothing except wind, and never very strong at that. No, this lightning wasn’t natural. And that could only mean one thing.

“Talaith’s aware of us,” I said. Thunder rumbled from somewhere off in the distance, probably originating from Woodhome.

“How?” Devona asked. “She should be husbanding her power for the ceremony!”

“Maybe she doesn’t care,” Lazlo said. “And by the way, Matt, I told you so.”

“Get exorcised,” I snapped. “How much farther do we have to go until we reach the Boneyard?” Darklords don’t directly use their powers in another Lord’s Dominion-not unless they want serious trouble from Dis. I knew if we could make it to the Boneyard before Talaith attacked, we would be safe. Hopefully.

“Too far,” Lazlo answered. He stomped on the pedal, and the cab, which had already been doing what seemed to me close to the speed of sound, accelerated.

Go as fast as you like, Richter, said a smug, slimy voice in my head. It won’t do you any good.

More lightning. And the thunder which followed was closer this time.

You’re mad, Talaith, I thought back. You can’t afford to waste your energy like this. The Renewal Ceremony is approaching. And Dis won’t be pleased if you’re too weak to fulfill your part in it.

I’m touched by your concern, she thought mockingly. You’ll be relieved to know that I’m not using a single iota of my own power. My loyal subjects are thoughtfully allowing me to borrow theirs.

I realized the significance of all the fires we’d seen. The Arcane weren’t celebrating; they were conducting a rite to transfer mystic power to their Lady.

A series of lightning flashes this time, much closer, and the crack of thunder sounded almost immediately.

How’d you know we were coming? I thought. I doubt you’ve been wasting power constantly scrying for me-you don’t have it to spare. Not in your present condition.

I sensed her anger at my taunt. I always conduct an augury using a mourning dove before every Descension Day to determine how things will go. This year, the bird’s entrails told me that you would be passing through tonight. And so I prepared. Glee and anticipation suffused her thoughts. With the help of my people, I’m going to destroy you once and for all, Matthew Richter, and your friends along with you. What do you think of that?

Lightning crashed outside the cab, thunder cracked, rattling the windows. A driving rain began to fall. Lazlo hit the wipers.

What if I told you that I’m due to decompose in another day or so anyway? Why bother wasting magic power, even if it isn’t your own, to destroy me if I’ll be gone in a handful of hours?

Talaith didn’t respond right away, and the rain slackened, but didn’t let up entirely.

I sense you’re telling the truth. And in that case letting you go would be the sensible thing. But I don’t want to be sensible; I want revenge.

The rain picked up, coming down so hard now that visibility was near zero, but Lazlo didn’t let up on the gas. The lightning and thunder were constant now. I wondered how close we were to the Bridge of Lost Souls. Not close enough, I feared.

Instead of destroying you, perhaps I’ll try to merely incapacitate you. That way you’ll get to see your friends perish, and afterward I can bring you to Woodhome and have the pleasure of watching you rot away to nothing. Yes, that sounds quite lovely.

I had one last card up my sleeve. It wasn’t an ace…hell, it wasn’t even a deuce, but it was all I had, so I played it.

What would you say if I reminded you about the Accord that states travelers on the Obsidian Way aren’t to be interfered with?

I’d say, “What Accord?”

And then I felt Talaith’s foul presence depart my mind. If I could have, I would’ve taken my brain out and given it a good scrubbing to get rid of the mental aftertaste of the Witch Queen’s thoughts.

“Uh, guys, we have a problem.”

“No shit we have a problem!” Lazlo shouted over the riotous thunder. “I can barely see two feet in front of us, and these so-called roads are rapidly turning into mud!”

I filled them in on my mental tete-a-tete with the mistress of the Arcane.

“An augury!” Lazlo said in surprise. “Those went out with evil eyes and love potions!”

“This is no time to discuss fashion trends in magic,” I said. “We have to figure a way out of this!”

“We better figure fast, then.” Lazlo pointed at the sky beyond the windshield. There, highlighted against black clouds, was the figure of an angel with wings of lightning. But this was a dark angel with wild raven hair, hate-filled eyes, and lips twisted in cruel laughter that boomed louder than thunder. Talaith, or at least a reasonable facsimile, getting ready to swoop down for the kill.

I looked out the windshield. Talaith’s avatar had left her position in the sky and was swooping down toward us, dark glee and anticipation blazing on her face.

Talaith’s avatar closed on our cab. She plucked a bolt of lightning from her wings and it shaped itself into a sword crackling with electricity. As she neared, she shrieked like a banshee experiencing labor pains, lifted the glowing yellow-white sword, and, as she reached the cab, swung.

But Lazlo was ready for her. Just as she brought the sword around, he jerked the steering wheel to the left and hit the gas. A sizzling sound filled the interior of the cab and then we were spinning out of control. I grabbed Devona because I hoped my zombie body might absorb some of the impact-neither of us were wearing seatbelts because Lazlo’s cab doesn’t have them. He tore them out because, as he once explained to me, they “show a real lack of confidence in the driver”-and together we bounced around the back seat as Lazlo swore mightily and struggled to regain control over his machine.

But it was no good; the car tipped, bounced, and rolled five times before finally crunching to a stop. The cab-what was left of it-was resting on its hood in the middle of a rain-soaked field. I still had hold of Devona.

“You okay?” I shouted above the still rollicking storm.

“I think so. Plenty of aches, but I don’t think any-thing’s broken.”

“Lazlo?”

He moaned and I thought he’d been hurt. But then he said, “My cab! What did that bitch do to my beautiful cab?”

If any of us had been human, or in Devona’s case all the way human, we most likely would’ve been killed. As it was, it looked like we were going to survive long enough for Talaith to kill us in person.

I kicked out the safety glass of the shattered rear window, which wasn’t easy since my left leg didn’t work quite right anymore, and pushed Devona through the opening. I yelled for Lazlo to get out of the car, and then crawled after Devona.

Getting up wasn’t easy with my latest injury, but once I was up, I could stand okay. Devona pointed to the cab’s passenger-side tires: they were nothing but melted globs on the rims.

So Talaith’s avatar had gotten in a shot after all. I suppose the air was filled with the greasy-oily stink of burning rubber, though my dead zombie nose couldn’t detect it. The rest of the cab didn’t look much better than the tires.

The driver’s door burst off and flew into the field as Lazlo forced his way out. The demon’s a lot stronger than he appears. As soon as he got a good look at what Talaith had done to his beloved cab, he began sobbing. The vehicle’s hood had been torn off, exposing its inner mouth. Numerous teeth had been broken off, the cab’s long tongue lolled onto the ground, and a pool of dark liquid that might or might not have been oil was spreading beneath the vehicle. Devona hurried over to console Lazlo, and I looked to the sky, expecting to see Talaith’s avatar gazing down at us and laughing with dark delight. But there was no sign of the Witch Queen, and a moment later the rain ceased and the clouds began to clear.

“What’s happening?” Devona said as I walked over to join her and Lazlo next to the demon’s dearly departed death-machine.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe Talaith used up the magic power she borrowed from her people and couldn’t maintain her avatar any longer.”

Bright white light flared into existence around us, revealing a dozen men and women carrying wooden staffs with glowing lux crystals attached to the ends. Most of them wore tunics, but three-two men and a woman-wore loose-fitting hooded robes. I didn’t have to guess who was in charge.

One of the robed men, a portly fellow with a gray mustache and goatee stepped forward.

“Or maybe,” he said with a sinister smile, “instead of wasting more power, our Lady sent us to retrieve you.”

“That’s another possibility,” I said.

“You sure know how to show a girl a good time, Matt.”

“How long have you been waiting to use that line?” I said.

“A few hours,” Devona admitted.

“You two are a riot,” Lazlo said. “Are you guys always this funny or only when you’re tied to stakes and surrounded by pissed-off witches and warlocks?”

Our Glamere welcoming committee had brought us-by force, naturally-to the village of Merrowvale. They’d hustled us into the village square and then tied us to three large wooden stakes atop a stone dais. The three robed Arcane, who I took to be the village Elders, then ordered children to begin piling firewood around Devona and Lazlo’s feet. But not, I noticed, around mine.

The entire square was filled with villagers, young and old, all decked out in medieval dress. It looked like a renaissance fair, only without the funnel cakes and ATM machines labeled Queen’s Treasury. Only about half of them carried magic staffs with lit lux crystals, but that didn’t mean the other half were harmless. Even the smallest child here was capable of casting at least some rudimentary spells. Both Devona and Lazlo were strong enough to break free from the ropes binding them if they wished, but they knew they couldn’t hope to escape from this many Arcane, and so they simply remained where they were while the children stacked the fuel for a good old-fashioned stake-burning at their feet.

The Elders stood at the base of the dais, and I caught the portly one’s eye.

“Why don’t I get any wood? You people have something against the smell of burning zombies?”

“Don’t answer him, Zorian,” said the Elder standing to the portly man’s right, a tall middle-aged woman with her graying brunette hair tied up in a bun. “He’s not worth the breath it would take to speak to him.”

I almost fired off a witty comeback, but I noticed something odd about the woman’s face. I looked at her more closely, and it didn’t take me long to figure out what was bothering me about her. I examined her fellow Elders, and then I turned my head as far as I could-given that I was tied to a stake-and gazed upon asmany of the good folk of Merrowvale as I could. And when I was finished, I smiled to myself. These people had a secret, and they weren’t hiding it very well. But I decided to keep that to myself for the moment.

“Hush, Gizane,” said the third Elder, a tall beefy man with a neatly trimmed brown beard who looked as if he would have made a hell of a quarterback on Earth. “Let Zorian have some fun. After all, it is Descension Day.” He grinned at me, a savage gleam in his eyes. He reminded me of a mean little boy who’d caught a trio of insects and couldn’t wait to start tearing their legs off.

Zorian nodded to the other man. “Thank you, Ortzi.” Then the warlock turned to me. “We have no intention of burning you, Mr. Richter. Our Lady wants you all for herself, and we’d be poor subjects indeed if we kept the pleasure of destroying you for ourselves.”

A scattering of laughter passed through the crowd, but it was more dutiful than enthusiastic.

“She’s en route now,” Ortizi said. “She’s coming here personally to claim you, though to be honest we’re not sure whether she’ll destroy you on the spot or take you back to Woodhome and save you for after the Renewal Ceremony. Me, I’m hoping for on the spot. I’d love to see the Lady in action.”

“That would be a treat,” Gizane admitted.

“Once her avatar forced the three of you off the road, she mentally contacted the three of us,” Zorian said, “and we-along with a few of the more powerful members of our village-went out to find you and escort you back to Merrowvale. Our orders are to hold you here until Talaith arrives, Mr. Richter.”

Ortzi grinned. “But she told as that as a reward for our service, we can do anything we like to your two friends. So we’re going to burn them alive at the stake-while you watch, helpless to save them. Won’t that be just awful?”

The children finished piling up the wood, and they stepped off the dais and returned to their parents. Ortzi’s lux crystal began to glow orange and flames flickered to life around it. The warlock made no move to step forward and touch the flaming tip of his staff to the wood yet. He wanted to make this last as long as he could.

“Uh, Matt?” Lazlo said, his bulbous demon eyes transfixed by the fire atop Ortzi’s staff. “If you have any brilliant ideas, now would be an excellent time to implement them.”

“Don’t worry,” Devona said. “He’ll think of something.”

The simple confidence in her voice was both heartwarming and heart-breaking. I did have an idea, but if it was going to have any chance of working, I had to stall just a bit longer, to give Talaith time to get closer to Merrowvale.

“Out of curiosity,” I said, “how’s Talaith traveling here? Broom? Magic carpet? A pair of ruby slippers?”

The three Elders only glared at me, and someone in the crowd shouted out, “Quit talking and light the goddamned fires!”

I decided I’d better move on to something else, and quickly. “All right, forget that. But tell me this: just how close to the Bridge of Lost Souls were we when Talaith’s avatar knocked us off the Obsidian Way?” When none of the Elders responded right away, I added, “Come on…you’ll just make us more miserable by telling us.” When they continued to hesitate, I said, “You know, if Talaith were here she’d tell me…Now there’s a woman who really knows how to torment a man-and not in the good way.”

“Very well,” Zorian said. “You were less than a mile and a half from the Bridge.”

“You might have made it, too,” Gizane said, nodding toward Lazlo. “If that idiot demon was a better driver.”

“Too bad ugly-or body odor-doesn’t equate with driving skill,” Ortzi said. “Otherwise, he’d be qualified for the Grand Prix back on Earth.”

Lazlo ground his teeth, sending small sparks shooting out of the corners of his mouth. He glared at Ortzi, and from the way his muscles were bunched up, I knew my demonic friend was getting ready to burst his bonds and show the Elders what happens when someone insults his driving.

I couldn’t afford to stall any longer.

“Tell me something, Gizane. Where do you get your make-up?”

Gizane drew up the hood of her robe as if to hide her face and gave her fellow Elders a sideways glance.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, zombie.”

“I’m not criticizing,” I said. “It’s nicely understated-the eye shadow, the eyeliner, the rouge, the lipstick…all very natural-looking. And you, Ortzi. Your beard is a deep, rich brown, but the color is a slightly different shade than your hair, and you’ve got a significant amount of gray at your temples. A man’s beard usually goes gray before his hair. I suppose you imported the stuff you use to color it from Earth.”

Ortiz started to cover his beard with his hand, but then he must have realized he was only drawing attention to it and lowered his hand once more-though it looked like it took an effort for him to do so.

I turned to Zorian then. “And unless my dead eyes deceive me, I see a small flesh-colored hearing aid nestled in your right ear, Zorian. Another import, I take it?

Zorian glanced at his fellow Elders, and all three of them looked nervous as hell.

“I don’t understand, Matt,” Devona said. “Now that you’ve pointed out those things about them, I can see them all, but why would Arcane bother using mundane items like that? Wouldn’t they just use their magic to improve their appearance or repair their hearing?”

“I’m sure that’s what Talaith would prefer. But these three aren’t the only ones who prefer non-magical ways of solving problems-or just enjoying life. Take a good look at the crowd. You’ll see people wearing wrist-watches, talking on cell phones-the real thing, not handvoxes-texting on BlackBerrys, taking digital pictures and video of us…More than a few folks are listening to music on their iPods, and a number of the children are playing handheld videogames. And if you’ll look really close at that alley over there, you’ll see someone sitting on the ground typing furiously on a laptop. Probably blogging about our imminent demises. All of them are trying to hide their toys, but they’re doing a crappy job of it.”

Now the assembled villagers were starting to look nervous too.

“I still don’t get it, Matt,” Devona said. “Lots of people in Nekropolis use imported Earth technology, whether in its pure form or adapted somehow by dark magic. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that these people are subjects of Talaith,” I explained. “And she’s not particularly fond of technology-especially not after how things turned out with the Overmind. By Talaith’s edict, technology of any sort is illegal for the Arcane to possess or use as long as they are within her Dominion. If she catches any Arcane with technology, she punishes them.” I smiled at the three Elders. “Most severely.”

The Elders paled.

I went on. “Talaith has a huge problem trying to enforce her edict, because pure technology is fascinating to the Arcane, almost to the point of addiction. Chemicals, medicines, and machines that can perform wonders without requiring a spellcaster to use her or her own energy to power them? What could be more wondrous? Merrowvale is one of the outlying villages in Glamere, so close to the Boneyard that it’s a simple matter to smuggle technology in and far enough away from Woodhome that they don’t worry too much about getting caught. If you went into their homes right now, you’d probably find flat-screen TVs, DVD players, videogame systems, personal computers, refrigerators, microwave ovens, washers and dryers…you name it, they’ve got it, and portable generators to power it all. And now they’ve captured us and their mistress is coming here to get me.” I smiled at the Elders. “What makes you think you’re going to be able to hide all your toys from Talaith when you couldn’t hide them from me-and I’m not even a Darklord.”

Gizane grabbed the collar of Zorian’s robe and turned him to face her. “He’s right! Talaith will find out! She may even already know!”

“And if she doesn’t,” I said, “I’ll make sure to tell her the moment she arrives.”

People in the crowd began wailing and crying. They had a good idea what sort of reaction they could expect from their mistress once she discovered their village’s tech-fetish.

“Don’t panic!” Ortzi said. He gave me a sly look. “If we destroy the zombie along with his friends, there will be no one left alive to tell Talaith anything.”

Gizane and Zorian looked at him hopefully.

“But Talaith gave you specific orders not to destroy me,” I pointed out. “If you burn me up along with my friends, how will you explain it to Talaith? And even if you could come up with an excuse that she’d buy, she’d punish you all for stealing her chance to get revenge on me.”

Gizane and Zorian no longer looked so hopeful. In fact, they both looked as if they might vomit at any moment.

“Then we’re lost!” someone in the crowed wailed. “There’s nothing we can do!”

“There is one thing,” I said. “You could let us go.”

“Are you mad?” Ortzi shouted at me. “Talaith would be sure to punish us in ways beyond imagining if we did that!”

“That’s true,” I admitted. “But not if the citizens of Merrowvale release us, then tell Talaith we got away because the three of you screwed up and allowed us to escape.”

“Is your brain as dead as the rest of you?” Ortzi snapped. “Zorian, Gizane, and I would never permit the villagers to do that-and even if somehow they succeeded, we’d simply tell the Dark Lady what really happened.”

“True again. But the villagers could tell Talaith that after you let us escape, they killed you in her name for your incompetence. Then there would be no one left to tell Talaith about what really happened, the villagers could keep all their toys, and the Dark Lady would be none the wiser.”

Zorian tried to look calm, but the lines of sweat trickling down his face told a different story. He kept shooting sidelong glances at the crowd in the square. “I think you’ve underestimated the good folk of Merrowvale, Mr. Richter. They would never do anything so heinous simply to keep their…” He broke off as he noticed the villagers staring quietly at him and his two fellow Elders. The lux crystals of the villagers who carried staffs began to glow a baleful red, while others started making intricate hand gestures and chanting mystic phrases.

I turned my head so I could see Devona and Lazlo.

“You might want to close your eyes. I have a feeling this is going to get real ugly, real fast.”

The villagers let out a roar as they surged en masse toward the dais.

Devona, Lazlo and I were hoofing it on the Obsidian Way. I’d been tempted to ask the villagers if we could borrow some horses, though the beasts tend to shy away from me, probably because of my smell. And if they turned up their noses at me, I couldn’t imagine how they’d react to Lazlo’s stink. But after seeing what the villagers had done to their Elder-and the zeal with which they’d gone at it-I decided not to push our luck. A mile and a half isn’t that far to walk, even on stiff, partially damaged zombie legs. But time, as they say, was of the essence. Talaith had already been on her way to Merrowvale when the villagers released us, and it wouldn’t take her long to arrive. Once she saw that we’d escaped, she’d come looking for us, and as long as we were in her Dominion, we weren’t safe. We needed to get to the Boneyard, and we needed to get there fast, and I doubted we were going to make it on foot. If worse came to worst, I would give myself to Talaith and urge her to let Devona and Lazlo go, but I knew the Witch Queen wouldn’t go for it. She’d kill the both of them just to hurt me further. So either we all made it or none of us did. Once more, I attempted to cudgel my zombified brain into providing a way out.

I knew the Darklords constantly strove against one another-within the boundaries set by Dis, that is. They spied on and schemed against one another, tried to outdo the others’ accomplishments and win favor in the eyes of Dis. They ruled their individual Dominions and the inhabitants thereof absolutely, though some of the Lords were more involved in their subjects’ lives than others. Still, it was considered an act of great transgression for a Darklord to interfere with another’s Dominion and its subjects.

I also knew the four remaining Darklords had to be aware of what Talaith had been up to tonight. Even if it was borrowed, the sheer power she was expending would stand out to them like an atomic bomb detonating at a July Fourth celebration. In fact, the other Lords were likely keeping close watch on the situation right now, if for no other reason than to make certain Talaith wasn’t somehow gearing up for an attack on them.

And then I had an idea.

I lived in the Sprawl. That made me a subject of Varvara, didn’t it? If I called upon the Demon Queen, might she intervene to save one of her subjects? No, I decided. Varvara liked me well enough, but we weren’t friends. What she liked about me was the amusement value I offered as a zombie ex-cop trying to survive in Nekropolis. But I doubted she’d find a confrontation with Talaith amusing, especially when the Witch Queen was filled with the combined mystic power of her subjects. Varvara might miss me when I was gone, or she might get a laugh out of my demise, but she wouldn’t help me.

I looked up, trying to see if Talaith was on her way. I saw no sign of the Witch Queen.

As if reading my mind, Devona said, “I feel psychic pressure at the base of my skull, Matt. She’s coming.”

I quickly explained my idea about the Darklords watching.

“If they are, then that means Father is watching too,” she said thoughtfully. “And he knows I’m here and in danger. But if that’s the case, why hasn’t he done anything?” She looked up into the sky. “Father!” she cried. “Father, help us!” But nothing happened.

Maybe I’d been wrong about the Darklords watching. Or maybe they were, but Galm was constrained by one of the Accords, or maybe he just couldn’t afford to expend any of his power so close to the Renewal Ceremony, even to save the life of his own daughter. Or maybe his reasons were political. From what I understood, Galm and Talaith, while not the best of friends by any means, had about as cordial a relationship as any two Darklords can.

But I knew a Lord who Talaith wasn’t on such good terms with-a Lord she’d planned to attack with the Overmind before Dale and I destroyed it.

A voice whispered in my mind then, thick with barely restrained fury. Another valiant attempt to escape me, Matthew, but you’re too late. Look up.

I did and saw a figure swiftly approaching from the western sky. Talaith sat upon an airborne throne of black marble held aloft by a pair of giant flapping raven’s wings growing from the throne’s back. Despite myself, I was impressed. Much classier than a broom or carpet. I knew we had only moments before she reached us. Once again, it was time to do something desperate.

I raised my hands to the heavens. “Lord Edrigu! Hear me! You are Master of the Dead; I am a zombie! Will you allow Talaith to insult you by attacking one of your own subjects? I ask you to help us, if for no other reason than to spite her!”

I waited, but nothing happened.

Nice try, zombie. Talaith’s thought-voice was smug. But Edrigu would never da-

And then, as if Talaith’s comment was a cue, the air near us shimmered and a shadowy coach appeared.

It was Silent Jack’s Black Rig.

We didn’t have time to think about it.

“C’mon!” I shouted, grabbing both Devona’s and Lazlo’s arms and pulling them toward Jack’s coach.

“I’m not going to ride in a ghost hack!” Lazlo protested. “I’m a real cabby! Besides, I’m not going to leave my cab. We have to go back and-”

Talaith was close enough now for us to hear her voice, and she shrieked, furious at Jack’s sudden appearance. She gestured and a bolt of lightning crashed to the ground less than three yards from where we stood.

“I’m going to shut my mouth and get inside,” Lazlo finished.

The door of the coach sprung open of its own accord, and we climbed in: Devona first, Lazlo second, me last. I pulled the door closed after us, and it shut with a muffled click. The interior of the coach was dark and the wood looked…insubstantial, somehow, as if you could put your finger through it if you pressed hard enough. But what else could you expect from a ghost coach? At least it was solid enough to keep the rain out.

I thumped on the roof to get the driver’s attention. “Let’s go, Jack!”

Silent Jack, true to his name, didn’t reply. His whip cracked soundlessly, Malice and Misery let out a pair of inaudible whinnies, and we began to move. But the horses didn’t pull us, at least not in the usual way. The entire coach, horses, slid forward as if on a conveyer belt, slowly at first, but with increasing speed. There was no bouncing or juddering; the ride was eerily smooth.

I pushed aside the curtain over the rear window and saw Talaith pursuing us, eyes flashing with mystic energy and blazing bright with anger and frustration. The Witch Queen poured on the speed, but inch by inch, we began to outdistance her.

Damn you, Richter! a furious voice thundered in my head. This isn’t over!

It is for now, I responded, and settled back in my seat. I’d survived another encounter with the mistress of Glamere.

I looked up at the ceiling and thought of Jack sitting atop the coach, driving the horses onward in silence. We’d gotten away, but, I wondered, at what price?