The Underground City (The Lily Harper Series)

by H. P. Mallory

  “Jesus!” Bill grumbled in a sleep-heavy voice. The bed groaned again as he rolled over onto his other side.

  “Bill!” I screamed. “Wake up!”

  “Why the hell are you bangin’ on my door in the middle of the friggin’ night, woman?” he shouted back. “Don’t you know I got Sleepy Bear Syndrome?”

  “You’ve got what syndrome?” I snapped back, shaking my head because I could just imagine what random crap was about to spew forth from his mouth.

  “Sleepy Bear Syndrome,” he responded with a loud yawn. “It’s when you get super flippin’ pissed off after someone wakes you up while you’re sound-the-shit asleep!”

  “Boo-hoo,” I called back. “And for your information, it’s not the middle of the night. It’s five a.m. and the sun is about to rise so we need to get a move on,” I finished, now starting for the bathroom. “You better be up and dressed by the time I wash my face and brush my teeth, or I’m going to be pissed!”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he muttered and yawned again. I could hear the sound of the sheets rustling, though, so that must’ve meant he was probably getting up, or so I hoped. “Don’t go all Tiger’s wife mad on me, nips, I’m comin’.”

  “I’ll be back to check on you in five minutes,” I replied from my bedroom.

  “Okay, Mom! Sheesh, you’re like an alligator,” he grumbled, adding to himself, “shit, I got nap mouth.”

  “An alligator?” I repeated curiously as I began brushing my teeth. I was fully aware that the sound of the water would drown out Bill’s response but I couldn’t say I cared.

  “Yeah, one o’ those big, cranky green things that wants ta bite my head off first thing in the friggin’ mornin’,” he said, having obviously waited for me to turn the water off so I wouldn’t miss his puerile comment.

  “You’ll get over it,” I answered with a laugh. I splashed my face with cold water and felt around for the Neutrogena face wash. After pumping a few squirts into my hand and lathering my face, I heard the sound of Bill’s heavy footfalls entering my bathroom.

  “’Kay, I’m ready,” he announced as I dried off my face. He stood in the doorway, looking at me impatiently.

  “Those are the same clothes you wore yesterday,” I pointed out, noticing his camouflage shorts were wrinkled and didn’t look clean. His Megadeath T-shirt was in an even worse state—bearing the same ketchup spot that fell on it yesterday morning.

  “So the hell what?” Bill grumbled. He cupped his hand in front of his mouth and breathed into it, like he was checking to see if he had bad breath. His eyes went wide as he shook his head, indicating his breath was so foul, it could set an all-time record. “We’re just meetin’ up with Tido. Ain’t like I gotta purty myself up for him.”

  “You could at least brush your teeth for me.”

  He shook his head. “No can do. You’ll hafta deal with my stank mouth in return for gettin’ me up so damn early.”

  Seeing that the sun had already begun its ascent, I realized I didn’t have any time to argue with Bill about the merits of hygiene and cleanliness. “Okay,” I said, reaching for the iron blade Tallis gave me. Then I started for the living room. Being the largest room in the house, I figured it would offer us the most space for incising a portal into the haunted forest.

  “How in the hell is that thing s’posed ta work?” Bill asked as he followed me.

  I shrugged, having no experience with portal-cutting iron blades at all and had no clue if the thing would work at all. I was only going on what Tallis told me. “Tallis said I’m supposed to just hold it out straight in front of me, like this,” I said, before standing with my feet shoulder-width apart and holding the blade out. “Then, I guess I just slice in a downward motion, and the blade should open a portal in the air.” Obeying my own words, I was amazed when the blade actually did what it was supposed to do.

  “Holy guacamole,” Bill whispered, also visibly in awe. We both watched the air separate as if it were a piece of paper that had just been cut in half. The image of my living room was divided by a sliver, maybe two feet long and one foot wide. Inside the sliver, I glimpsed the darkness of a forest, the Dark Wood, where Tallis lived.

  “Now, I guess we go in,” I said. Just then, I noticed that I cut the portal a little too high up in the air, meaning Bill and I would have a hard time climbing through it. Hoping to remedy the situation, I brought the iron blade to the bottom of the cut I’d already made, and continued slicing through the air in a downward motion to lower the portal and give us easier access. “Now we go in,” I corrected myself with a smug smile.

  “Chicks first,” Bill announced and I responded with a frown. Placing the blade into the pocket of my sweatshirt, while my heart hammered with anxiety as well as adrenaline, I stepped into the open portal. The prick of cold air chilled me as soon as my leg made contact with the forest, but I forced myself onward. When my foot touched down on the forest floor, I balanced my weight and maneuvered the rest of my body through the opening.

  “Everything okay in there?” Bill called out, sounding nervous.

  “Yes, hurry up!” I responded, feeling irritated by his incessant cowardice. “You can’t be killed so what are you worried about?”

  “Just ’cause I can’t be killed doesn’t mean I like scary-ass shit jumpin’ out at me,” he yelled back. Eventually, I watched his pudgy leg entering the portal. It was followed by his equally fleshy arm. His fingers were stretched out and he kept moving his hand around, as if he were trying to locate something. Assuming we were already late, I grabbed Bill’s hand and pulled him toward me, watching as he collapsed onto the forest floor. The portal instantly zipped itself shut behind us.

  “’Tis aboot bludy time,” Tallis’s voice bellowed through the tranquil air.

  Turning around, I found him standing behind Bill and me. He was wearing a black kilt, with a sporran around his waist, and his sword strapped securely in a scabbard across his naked chest. His eyes narrowed and his face took on an expression that said he wasn’t pleased. “Hi,” I said, smiling sheepishly. I couldn’t deny feeling intimidated around Tallis.

  “Hi yerself,” the Scotsman ground out.

  “How the hell did you know we were comin’ through here, He-Man?” Bill asked, planting his plump hands on his ample hips.

  “Whenever the blade moves,” Tallis replied as he gestured toward my pocket, “Ah am alerted.”

  “Coolio,” Bill responded. “It’s like: Beam me up, Tally.” Then he laughed at his own joke and added, “Tally-ho!”

  Tallis frowned at the much smaller man before turning his scowl towards me. “Ah told ye ta arrive at first light.” He glanced up at the sun, which was now beaming brightly at the top of the sky. He stared at me with a sour expression before turning on his heel and walking away, without waiting for either of us.

  “Nice ta see you too, Shrek!” Bill called out behind Tallis, but the grumpy giant didn’t respond. He just marched forward, with enormous strides that Bill and I struggled to follow. At the sound of rustling in the bushes nearby, I glanced over and barely caught sight of two or three Grevels.

  Grevels were demons; and even though it was forbidden by Afterlife Enterprises, Tallis kept a handful of them as pets. Unlike tame, friendly dogs, however, Grevels were, by nature, ferocious. They stood about as tall as a Labrador retriever, but that’s where the similarities ended. Unlike a Lab, Grevels were hideous to look at. Hunched over with misshapen bodies, shiny, rust-colored scales covered most of their bodies and their limbs terminated into cloven hooves. As if their figures weren’t frightening enough, their faces appeared even worse. Rows of miniature, razor-sharp teeth filled their mouths and hot steam blew from their muzzles. Their eyes glowed red.

  “Dude, I think Bubba is canine whipped,” Bill whispered to me.

  “Grevel whipped,” I corrected him. “Demon whipped.”

  “True dat,” Bill said with a nod before clearing his throat. “An’ you better keep them ugly sons o’ bitches a
way from me, Hercules!” Bill yelled out to Tallis, who still had a good lead on us. Bill had gotten into a few run-ins with the Grevels the last time we traveled through the Dark Wood.

  Tallis, as expected, didn’t respond, but continued plodding forward, while we remained maybe four or five paces behind him. He weaved through the trees, over the rocks and through a few shallow puddles, with no pathway to follow. If I hadn’t known better, I might have thought he was lost …

  After hiking through an open meadow and taking a right around an enormous oak tree, I recognized Tallis’s home. It was a humble dwelling—more like a shanty than a house. The Grevels dispersed, and like tired dogs, lay down on the ground beneath the lush foliage. I stopped walking and watched Tallis remove the scabbard from his chest as he laid his sword against the log wall of his cabin.

  “Dude, you got anythin’ ta eat in that mansion o’ yours?” Bill asked as he scratched his head and his stomach growled audibly. “Pollyanna over here didn’t feed me breakfast this mornin’.”

  Tallis narrowed his eyes at Bill, but didn’t respond. Instead, he faced me. “Have ye broken yer fast, lass?”

  I swallowed hard, knowing Tallis wouldn’t approve of my response. “We didn’t have time to eat this morning.” Then I glanced over at Bill. “We were running late.”

  “What?” Bill asked innocently, shaking his head as he threw his hands into the air. “Way to row me downstream, sugar lips.” I assumed that phrase had something to do with selling him down the river, but wasn’t interested enough to ask. “Dude, all this mission shit we’re on is bogus. I’m startin’ ta get volunteer’s remorse.”

  “You didn’t volunteer for anything, Bill,” I pointed out. “You’re here because you have to be.”

  “Whatevs,” Bill said before frowning at me as if my point wasn’t a good one.

  Tallis glanced over with his jaw tight. “Ye have a long day ahead o’ ye, lass. Ye cannae expect yer body ta perform withoot givin’ it nutrients.” Opening the door to his home, his eyes remained on me. “Coome,” he said simply.

  “Damn right,” Bill interrupted as he started for Tallis’s cabin and I brought up the rear. “You got any o’ that squirrel stew, Conan?” Bill inquired once we were inside. Then, addressing me, he asked, “Was it squirrel stew last time? Maybe gopher?” He shrugged. “It was some little rodent with screwed up teeth.”

  Tallis ignored Bill and started a fire in the hearth by merely looking at it. I wondered if I would ever get accustomed to his acumen with magic. Probably not. I scanned his house, taking stock of everything and concluding it looked exactly the same as it had the last time I was here.

  It smelled of earth, water and trees—like the forest, itself. All the furniture, which was comprised of a table and two chairs, a couch and Tallis’s bed, was constructed of hand-hewn logs. The bed and the couch were covered with animal furs, while the mattress and pillows were filled with straw. Other animal hides were scattered on the ground directly in front of the fire. I was familiar enough with Tallis’s cabin after spending the night here on more than one occasion, with Bill, of course.

  “Looks like you’re in luck, Bill,” I said as we both watched Tallis carry an iron pot to the fire and place it into the flames. “Although I’ll bet it isn’t squirrel or gopher.” As far as I knew, creatures in the Dark Wood weren’t the same as you’d find in an Earth forest. The only experience I had with any creatures in the Dark Wood were enormous, flying spiders. The spiders, which we’d encountered during our first mission into the Underground City, were gargantuan. They stood as high as my knees and were dangerous because they squirted out venom, which could kill you. And they hunted in packs.

  “Nice,” Bill responded, patting his stomach as it growled again. “Although I will admit that the last time we ate Conan’s food, I got major meat sweats for like a week. Then I had such rancid farts, when we went grocery shopping at Tesco, people started lookin’ around and sayin’ there must have been a sewage problem.”

  “God, Bill,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Swear!” Bill replied, even crossing his heart. “I was blastin’ the most disgustin’, rotten, shit-smellin’ farts. The worst of my entire life! I nearly made myself pass out.”

  “Yer trainin’ will be in two parts, lass,” Tallis suddenly announced. He lifted the cover off the pot and stirred its contents, apparently not overly concerned about Bill’s intestinal discomfort.

  “Okay,” I said, taking a seat on one of the animal furs I found on the floor. Bill chose to sit in one of the chairs beside the table.

  “The first half o’ the day will be spent oan trainin’ ye how ta wield yer sword,” Tallis continued. It was actually the second lesson he would give me on sword fighting. Because I was so hopeless when it came to fencing or using my sword, I figured I needed all the practice and guidance I could get. “The second half o’ the day will be spent oan trainin’ yer body.”

  “Training my body?” I repeated, with a frown, unaware of his gist.

  Tallis nodded. “Jist as ye moost possess knowledge an’ skill ta wield yer sword, so moost yer body be in tip-top condition ta deal with the trials an’ tribulations o’ bein’ a Retriever.”

  “So, you mean … I’ll be lifting weights or something?” I asked, still confused.

  “You are skinny fat, Lil,” Bill pointed out, his eyebrows raised as he pointed at my stomach. “I mean, you look skinny but you’re all flabby an’ shit.” I glared at him until he shut up.

  “Aye, weights an’ cardio trainin’ ta ensure yer swiftness oan yer feet,” Tallis answered as he stirred the contents of the pot again.

  “Conan’s gonna turn you into that Terminator chick,” Bill piped up with a wink at me. “I totally wanted ta bone her when that movie came out.” A few moments of silence ensued as he, no doubt, was picturing Linda Hamilton’s naked body in his mind. “’Course, she’s prolly too old an’ loose now.” Then he shook his head. “Nah, I’ll bet she’s a Freddy Cougar—an old chick who can totally rock her slutty Halloween costume.”

  I rolled my eyes at Bill before I addressed Tallis. “So you want me to join a gym or what?”

  Tallis shook his head. “Nae. Ah’ve already consigned someone Ah troost ta train ye. Yer first session will begin at midday, today. Then, Ah expect ye ta train at least three times a week. With a proper diet, ye should be in fightin’ mode in two fortnights.”

  “Okay,” I said, heaving a sigh. I’d never enjoyed diets and, consequently, wasn’t very good at maintaining them.

  Tallis took the pot of stew off the fire using only his bare hands. His jaw seemed tight and his eyes narrowed. I wondered if he was feeling any pain from touching the incredibly hot handle, but he didn’t make a sound. It struck me that he was probably intentionally hurting himself as some form of punishment. About a week ago or so, I discovered him bare-chested in the freezing snow, whipping himself with a cat o’ nine tails until blood streamed down his back. After quite a bit of prodding, he’d admitted that he was punishing himself for past transgressions. Tallis Black was seriously messed up.

  Taking out two wooden bowls, Tallis divvied up the stew and placed the pot in his sink, which was no more than a large metal tub that sat on the floor. Beside it were a jug of water and a bar of soap. He glanced down at his palm with curiosity, as if taking stock of the damage done by the scalding pot. From where I stood, I could see that his entire palm was bright red. As I watched, the angry redness began to vanish into his tan skin. Tallis could heal himself because of the warrior spirit who possessed his body. I didn’t know much more about the warrior, because Tallis wasn’t too forthcoming when it came to talking about himself.

  He handed one of the stew-filled bowls to me and the other to Bill. Bill immediately stood up and inspected the contents of my bowl before addressing Tallis and claiming, “Dude, she got more than I did.”

  “Aye,” Tallis answered as he faced Bill squarely. “An’ as Besom has a full day planned, she needs every bi
t o’ energy.”

  Bill frowned. “I thought you just said she was going on a diet?”

  “Bill,” I chastised him while shaking my head in an attempt to get him to stop whining. I worried that Tallis would freak out on Bill because the angel could be, in a word … annoying. Bill pouted and frowned, but returned to his place at Tallis’s table and ate his stew, making slurping sounds with every spoonful.

  “So tell me about my physical training,” I said to Tallis, who was standing near the front door. I sat in the other chair at his table, across from Bill. Placing my bowl on the roughly hewn wood, I turned my chair around until I was facing Tallis. “I’ll have a personal trainer?”

  “Aye.”

  “What’s his story?” I continued.

  “He is a demon,” Tallis answered nonchalantly.

  “A demon?” I repeated, with anxiety emerging in my voice. “I thought our main goal was to avoid demons?”

  But Tallis shook his head. “He doesna reside in the Oonderground City.”

  “Where does he live?” I asked.

  “Here,” Tallis answered. “In the Haunted Wood.”

  “And he’s a personal trainer?” I asked, my tone growing dubious. It sounded like the prelude to a bad joke.

  “Aye. He has made it his business ta train Retrievers. An’ he is verra good at what he does.” He paused for a moment or two, but watched me. “Ye are loocky, lass. Not everybody has connections ta Ael.”

  “Ael is his name?” I asked, pronouncing it “Al.”

  “Aye,” he answered.

  “Al don’t sound like no demon’s name to me,” Bill piped up with a mouthful of potatoes.

  “An’ does Bill sound like ah name o’ an angel?” Tallis asked, raising his eyebrows with a lofty expression.

  “Ha-ha, very funny, Shrek,” Bill answered, frowning at Tallis. After slurping his last spoonful and swallowing it down, Bill put the bowl and spoon on top of the table. “Done!” he exclaimed as if he’d just won an eating contest. “Any seconds?” he asked Tallis.

  “Nae,” Tallis answered before shaking his head and muttering something about Bill’s appetite being more like that of a pregnant sow.