by Tim Waggoner
So far he had only come at us in one shape at a time, and although that had never been spelled out as part of the deal, I'd assumed it was. Looked like I was wrong.
His interim form resembled a blurry amoeba, and Devona was having a tough time holding on. In a flash, I understood what he was going to do: he intended Devona to lose her grip on his fluid transitional form and fall into Phlegethon. If the river's mystic green flame didn't kill her, the Lesk which swam within it surely would.
"Devona, jump!" I shouted as I raised my gun and fired.
The last silver bullet struck Amon in the chest – or rather where his chest would have been if he'd been solid – just as Devona launched herself up and over the Lord of the Wyldwood. Devona landed easily on the bridge as the amoebic Darklord pitched backward over the rail and plummeted soundlessly toward Phlegethon's fiery green embrace.
I tucked my empty gun into my shoulder holster and hurried over to Devona. She was covered with blood, but it was impossible to tell if any of it was hers.
"Are you okay?"
She wiped a smear of blood from her mouth and nodded. "Do you think it's over?"
"It's possible Amon is more vulnerable in his transitional state and the last silver bullet did him in."
"Do you believe that?"
"I believe Darklords are very hard to kill. Let's get out of here before–"
A gigantic reptilian head rose up before us, fiery green water trickling down its black-scaled hide.
"Too late, zombie." The voice of Amon's British hunter guise, the one that annoyed me so much, boomed out of the Lesk's serpentine mouth. I'd never seen one of the great beasts close up before, only the black lines of their backs as they plied the waters of Phlegethon. The creature was far larger than I had imagined, and looked something like a snake encased in black armor. Its brow was spiked, and it had a row of bony serrated triangles running down its back. And of course it possessed Amon's feral yellow eyes – eyes full of fury and hunger.
"Let us go, Amon!" I shouted. "We played by the rules of your challenge and beat you, fair and square!"
Amon laughed, a harsh, brittle sound, as of a thousand bones breaking.
"The Hunt has only a single rule, little man: victory belongs to the strongest and swiftest." He hissed and his jaws opened wide in preparation to devour us.
"What of Honani, Darklord?" I yelled.
Amon paused and narrowed his basketball-sized eyes.
I reached into my jacket and removed the soul jar. "This container is what I used to draw Honani's spirit from his body. Honani remains inside. All I have to do to release him is pry open the lid." I gripped the lid in my fingers. "If I do, his spirit will be set free to wander Nekropolis for eternity. Or maybe he'll end up in the Boneyard as one of Edrigu's servants."
Amon's head swayed slowly back and forth as he regarded me.
"You told us earlier that despite being a mixblood, Honani was still one of your subjects – one of the family, as you put it." I gave the jar a shake. "Well, here he is, Amon. Are you going to abandon him just because his body now belongs to another?"
Amon hissed softly. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"
"How did you know it when you pretended to be Arleigh?" I countered.
Amon considered. "Very well," he said at last. "Place the jar on the bridge and you may go."
"Nothing personal, but I'd rather keep it with us until we reach the other side, if it's all the same to you."
Amon laughed again, and I was surprised to hear no malice in it. "Go on, then!"
We backed toward the Sprawl side of the bridge, keeping our eyes on Amon the entire way. When we reached the far side, Amon touched his serpent's nose to the bridge and flowed into his English hunter body.
I set the jar on the bridge and Amon gave me a little salute. "Well played, Mr. Richter. Well played, indeed. I haven't enjoyed a Wild Hunt this much in decades."
"I'm glad you liked it," I said wryly. And Devona and I turned and hurried into the Sprawl before the lord of the shapeshifters could change his mind.
From now on Amon would have to add a corollary to his rule about the Hunt: sometimes victory doesn't go to the strongest or swiftest. Sometimes it goes to a desperate dead man with deep pockets.
NINETEEN
"So that's the infamous House of Dark Delights," Devona said, sounding less than impressed.
The Sprawl's best-known brothel was located on the southeast end of Sybarite Street, and the Descension Day celebrating was a bit more subdued here, mostly because by this time a majority of partiers lay on the sidewalks, in the gutters, and in the alleys, unconscious or worse, robbed of whatever darkgems they'd had in their pockets, and more than likely missing several pints of bodily fluids and an organ or two. At least it was easier to get around in this neighborhood for those us who remained ambulatory – if you didn't mind stepping over all the bodies, that is.
The House sat between a casino called, ominously enough, Bet Your Life, and a soul-modification parlor (slogan: When you've done everything to your body that you possibly can) called Spiritus Mutatio. The House of Dark Delights was a pleasant-looking three-story building painted white, with green shutters and matching shingles. There, the dark is all on the inside.
The facial lacerations Amon had given Devona were almost completely healed by now, after snacking on a couple blood-ices she'd purchased from a street vendor along the way.
"It doesn't seem very well protected – especially for this part of town," she said. "No fence surrounding the place, no bars on the windows…"
"You're good with wardspells, right?" I said. "Try checking out its magical defenses."
Devona closed her eyes and concentrated. A few seconds later her eyes snapped open, and she looked at me with an expression of shock. "The spells protecting the building are almost as strong and complex as those warding my father's Collection!"
I smiled. "Bennie doesn't like to take any chances."
"Bennie?"
"The owner and operator," I said. "I just use Bennie. It makes things easier."
Devona gave me a puzzled look, and I told her she'd understand soon enough. As Devona had pointed out, there's no fence around the House of Dark Delights, and we strolled up the front walk, onto the porch, and I knocked on the door. The first time I'd come here, no one had warned me to knock first. I made the mistake of reaching for the doorknob, and as soon as my undead flesh came in contact with the metal, I found myself blasted across the street and through the front window of Les Escargot, a gourmet restaurant run by giant snails. The food's supposed to be great, but you wouldn't believe how slow the service is.
The door opened, and an extremely large and muscular mixblood lyke was glaring down at us – one that I knew well. After all, I'd seen him, or at least his body, walking out of Skully's only several hours ago.
"Lyra?" I said hopefully. I was thinking of how I'd traded the soul jar containing Honani's spirit to Amon for our freedom. Had the Darklord used his powers to force out Lyra's essence and return Honani to his rightful body?
The mixblood glared at us for a moment longer before dissolving into a fit of giggling. "Darn it! I knew I wouldn't be able to keep a straight face!"
I started to sigh in relief, but Lyra scooped me up and gave me a vicious hug, squeezing the rest of the air out of my lungs. When she put me down, I half expected to collapse to the porch in a mass of dead flesh and shattered bone. But luckily my skeletal system had withstood Lyra's affectionate embrace, if only just.
"What are you doing here, Matt? And who's your friend? She's cute!" Lyra turned to Devona and started to smile, but she frowned instead. "Hey, didn't I see you at Skully's when I walked out? I was kind of muzzy-headed from the transfer into this body, so maybe I'm wrong, but I could've sworn–"
"I was there," Devona confirmed.
"After you left Skully's, Devona asked me to help her out with a problem, Lyra. We're here because I think Bennie might be able to help us."
"So you decided to return to your old, uh, stomping grounds?" I asked Lyra.
Lyra grinned with Honani's mixblood mouth, and though she displayed a truly intimidating array of teeth, she still somehow managed look cute.
"More than that, I've got a new job! Bennie made me a bouncer!" Lyra flexed her right arm, and her new mixblood muscles bulged impressively.
I couldn't help laughing. "Perfect!"
"I know! Bennie's the best, aren't they? They also offered to get me an appointment with Dr. Moreau at the House of Pain to see if he might be able to give my new body a sex change, but I think I'm going to keep it as is for now. I always wanted to see how the other half lives, and now I've got my chance!"
Devona looked at me. "They?"
"It'll all make sense soon. Trust me."
Lyra led us through the foyer and into the lounge which, as usual, was filled with customers waiting for appointments to begin, restocking on fluids between assignations, or bragging about their performance to their companions afterward. The lounge was decorated like a tasteful upscale neighborhood tavern back on Earth: black lacquer tables and chairs, a small kitchen which served appetizers and snacks, and – instead of flat-screen TV's – giant Mind's Eye devices were mounted on the walls, the orbs broadcasting news coverage of Descension Day activities throughout the city. But the heart of the lounge was undeniably the large circular bar in the middle of the room. The bartenders on duty could mix any type of drink you wanted, but every one of them was Arcane and their true specialty was potion-making. They could create any manner of aphrodisiac or performance-enhancing substance imaginable, and many that were beyond imagination, even in Nekropolis.
Every table in the lounge was taken by men and women representing all the races the city has to offer – Bennie doesn't believe in discrimination when it comes to love, or the reasonable facsimile on the menu at the House of Dark Delights – and it looked like Devona and I were going to have to stand. But Lyra escorted us over to a table where two vampires I recognized were playing a holographic game of bloodshards.
The male looked up as we approached, his holo-eye implants switching over to normal vision, and he groaned when he got a good look at us, or more specifically, at me.
"Not you again! My sister and I just want to be left alone to play in peace!"
"And that's all you've been doing for the last four hours" Lyra said. "This lounge is reserved for paying customers, Reshem. I let you slide because of the trouble Matt and I caused you at Skully's earlier, but now I have to ask you to take your game elsewhere."
The female vampire switched her implants over to regular vision then too, and the holographic game pieces vanished. "But this is the only place we've able to find where a fight hasn't broken out within ten minutes of our arrival," she protested. "We figured it would be safe to play here because the customers aren't interested in fighting."
Her brother grinned. "Because they have other activities on their mind."
Lyra put her large clawed hands onto the table and went into her pissed-off mixblood routine, teeth bared, brow furrowed, growl rumbling deep in her throat.
The male vampire sighed. "All right, we're going. Come, Halina, let's try the restaurant across the street. We should be able to get in at least a dozen games before the server arrives to take our drink orders."
The vampire siblings left, and Lyra gestured to the now empty table. "If you'd like to take a seat, I'll go find Bennie and tell her you want to talk to her. I'll have someone come over and get you something to drink while you wait." Lyra gestured to one of the servers, gave us a last smile, and then turned to go.
We sat and watched Lyra make her way back to the foyer, everyone in her path stumbling over one another to get out of her way. Lyra acted as if she didn't notice, but I knew she loved every minute of it.
"I think that girl has a bright future ahead of her in the nuisance-deterrent business," Devona said.
I couldn't help but agree.
While waited for a server to come over, Devona glanced around the lounge, taking everything in. She frowned. "All these people… the place hardly seems large enough to accommodate them all. As big as the lounge is, I don't see how they have any space left over for rooms."
"That's because only part of the House of Dark Delights is above ground," I said. "There are seven levels beneath us, each more, ah, intense than the last."
Devona raised an eyebrow and I hastened to add, "Or so I've been told. I've never actually had the opportunity – or the desire – to explore beyond the lounge."
Devona smiled, obviously enjoying my discomfort. "Sure, Matt. Whatever you say."
A white-furred werecat server wearing an almost nonexistent black leather bikini came over and asked if we'd like anything to drink – on the house. I politely declined, but Devona ordered a glass of aqua sanguis. The server winked at me as she left, swishing her tail a bit more strictly than necessary as she headed toward the bar. I noticed Devona scowling.
"Why Ms. Kanti, if I didn't know better, I might think you were actually jealous."
Devona laughed just a little too loudly. "Right. As if I would be jealous of a cheap little thing like. Doesn't she realize that six breasts is just overkill?"
"You're right: you don't sound a bit jealous."
She smiled. "All right, I admit it, I am."
"I don't think you have to worry about anyone snatching me away. I'm not exactly the best-looking guy in the place at the moment." Cuts on my face, burnt arm, missing ear and pinkie, chewed-up leg, tilted head, and skin getting grayer by the minute – not to mention the state of my suit. I'd never been a male model, but I'd definitely seen better days.
Devona reached over and took my hand. "It's not the outside I see when I look at you. Especially after what happened in the glen."
All I could feel of Devona's touch was the slight pressure of her fingers against my skin. But it was enough.
"So you felt it too?"
She nodded. "It was the most intense experience of any kind I've ever had."
"I thought you said you'd linked with men before."
"I have, but it was never like that. Those men were Shadows in more ways than one, Matt. Shallow, hollow men who just wanted me for my body, or because I was Bloodborn and exotic, or because they thought I could make them Bloodborn too. But you – you're special. I don't think you realize just how much."
"Devona…" I didn't know what to say. We'd met each other less than a day ago, but after what had happened in the glen, after joining souls as we'd done, it was like we'd known each other for years. No, forever. But I couldn't let this go on, no matter how much I wanted it to, and believe me, I did.
The werecat brought Devona's drink, and we were silent while she put it down on the table. She saw we were holding hands, so she kept her winks to herself this time when she departed.
When the girl was out of earshot, I continued. "What kind of relationship can you have with a zombie? I'm not exactly fully functional, if you know what I mean."
"I don't care about that, Matt. We don't need physical love, not when we can link."
"Even so, I think it would be best for now if we just tried to concentrate our attention on the job at hand."
Her eyes grew cold and hurt and she tried to pull away, but I held her hand tight.
"I'm not rejecting you, Devona. I want to make that clear. I probably should reject you, to be honest, but I can't. But we shouldn't go forward with this until I know for certain that I'm going to… I guess 'live' isn't the right word. Survive, I guess. Unless your father can help me, I'll be gone soon."
"Then we can have that time together, Matt."
I shook my head. "I won't do that to you. I can't. We know how we feel about each other – know it in a way that t
wo people who haven't been linked never could. Right now that has to be enough. If I'm lucky, in a couple days, I'll still be here, and then we can continue this conversation where it left off. I promise."
A crimson tear pooled at the corner of her right eye. "And if you aren't lucky?"
I grinned. "Would you smack me if I said we'll always have the glen?"
She squeezed my hand and I squeezed right back.
"Well, look who we have here! If it isn't Matthew Richter, the man who helped supply me with the best bouncer I've ever had!"
We looked up to see a tall, striking woman in a tuxedo striding confidently toward us. She wore her bright orange hair in a buzz cut, and her cherry-red lipstick contrasted with her ice-blue eyes. She stopped when she reached our table. There were only two chairs, and we were currently occupying them. I offered mine, but Bennie declined.