by Tim Waggoner
"All it will take is a single thought, and the mouth will snap shut, instantly decapitating Devona," Gregor said, sounding smug. "A full Bloodborn might be able to recover from such a severe injury, assuming someone quickly put their head back in place and gave them enough fresh blood to drink. But for a half-human/half-vampire, decapitation would prove fatal."
"And you'll kill her if I try to stop you," I said.
"Yes. Once I became aware you were searching for Papa Chatha – at the urging of my sister–" he added, shooting Shamika a glance, "–I knew there was a chance you might uncover my plan. I did my best to destroy you, but you have an irritating habit of finding ways to survive, and so I decided to abduct Devona to give me leverage in case you managed to reach Ulterion. And here we are. If you want Devona to live, you will stand by and do nothing while I shift Nekropolis to Earth."
"You know I can't do that, Gregor." I couldn't look at Devona as I said these words, even though I could feel through our psychic link that she agreed with me. "If Nekropolis materializes on Earth, the loss of life will be staggering, for both Darkfolk and humans."
"Perhaps," Gregor said. "I really don't care. Just as long as I am alone once more." The longing in his voice was profound. "Consider this: once the transference is complete, I will send you and Devona through to Earth as well. You'll at least have a fighting chance to survive there. And all you need to do is stand by and do nothing."
Devona looked at me. Don't even think about it!
But of course I did think about it. I loved Devona more than I'd ever loved anyone in my life. And our children… I wanted so much to see them born, to discover what I would be like as a father, to watch my kids grow into the amazing people I knew they would become. My son, my daughter… how could I sentence them to death before they were even born? But then I thought about all the people who'd die if I let Gregor complete his insane plan. How could I allow that to happen? Could I live with all these deaths on my conscience?
I turned to Shamika. "Think you're faster than Gregor?" I whispered.
"I don't know," she whispered back.
"You'd better be."
I drew my 9mm with my recently restored right hand, took aim at Darius' head, and fired.
Gregor cried out in surprise as a mixture of blood and brains sprayed from the top of Darius' head, leaving the Sideways Man very dead. In that same instant Shamika transformed into a cloud of flying black insects which streaked toward Devona. Once there she resumed her human shape, grabbed hold of the ebon mouth Gregor had formed and, with a strength that belied her guise as a teenage girl, she tore Gregor's black substance away from Devona's body, freeing her.
Gregor seemed not to pay attention. He was staring at Darius' messy corpse, and though his insect face wasn't capable of expression, his attitude was one of total bewilderment.
"You bad guys should never explain how your shit works," I said. "It just makes it easier for us good guys to fuck it up."
Gregor continued staring at Darius' body. "I can't believe you did that." He turned his gaze upon me then. "I never imagined you were that cold-blooded."
I smiled grimly. "I'm a zombie, remember? My blood's as cold as it gets."
Through our psychic link, I could feel that Devona was shaken by what I'd done, but she was trying her best not to let it get to her.
Enough talking, lover, she thought to me. Let's tear Gregor apart!
Fangs bared, she leaped for Gregor at the same instant I raised the Dreamthrower, intending to release a horde of Nightmares to attack him. But I'd forgotten that the dome we were in was made of Gregor's substance. Pseudopods extruded from the floor and ceiling and snatched us both. Devona was suspended in mid-leap, and my arm was yanked from its socket before I was able to release even a single Nightmare from the Dreamthrower. The arm had barely been attached anyway, and it came off as easily as the leg of a well-done roast turkey.
Black coils of Gregor-stuff wrapped around my neck, ankles, and the wrist of the hand that remained attached to my body. I didn't struggle. I could feel myself coming apart at the seams, and I knew if I resisted the tentacles' embrace too strongly, I'd collapse into a heap of useless body parts. Devona was caught in a nest of tentacles that hung down from the ceiling, and though she thrashed to free herself, even tried to bite through the tentacles with her fangs, she was unable to make a dent in the gooey shadowy substance that held her.
I still held my 9mm, but I knew mere bullets wouldn't kill Gregor. They wouldn't even slow him down.
"You haven't stopped me, you know," Gregor said. He spoke calmly, or rather like someone who was working very hard to sound calm. "I might not be able to shift Nekropolis to another dimension now, but I still have the power of Talaith stored in Victor Baron's lightning rod. Perhaps I'll use it to destroy Ulterion and deprive the Darkfolk of their magic. Or better yet, I'll use it to put the moon into motion and crash it into Umbriel. Without the Shadowsun, Nekropolis won't be able to survive in my dimension. And even if those plans fail, what does it matter? I'll just keep on trying until I do succeed! Nothing will stop me! Nothing!"
"You're wrong," I said.
Gregor scuttled over to me so rapidly that it seemed he teleported across the distance. Alarmed, Shamika assumed an insectile form like his and started toward him, obviously intending to protect me, but I shook my head. She stopped, hesitated a moment, and then returned to her human form.
Gregor leaned in close until his giant roach face was only inches from mine.
"What do you mean?" he asked softly.
"You can't succeed for one simple reason," I said. "You've already lost. You told us that after you teleported Devona here, you released her from her trance because you saw no need to keep her in it. But then you said you found it, and I quote, 'oddly gratifying' to have someone watch as you put your plan into action. You hate Otherness, Gregor. So why would you enjoy having someone else here with you while you worked?"
Gregor's gem-like eyes were impossible to read, so I went on.
"And what about my hand?" I said.
Gregor cocked his head, puzzled. "What about it?"
"My severed hand, the one you accidentally teleported along with Devona. Once it got here, it hid itself until you were distracted, and then Devona was able to use it to send me a message."
"So?"
I said, "So how was that possible? And I don't mean the animated severed-hand part. I admit that's weird, but I know I can exert some control over my body parts once they've been separated from me, and I guess they have a life of their own, at least in some small ways. What I'm talking about is how could anything take place inside this dome without your knowledge? This place is made from your body, right? It is you. So how could you not be aware my severed hand was skulking about?"
Gregor didn't say anything at first, but he shifted his weight back and forth several times, as if he were agitated and trying not to show it.
"I've been rather busy, you know." He sounded more than a little defensive. "You can't possibly imagine the magical and technological complexity of dimensional transference. The concentration required to get all the calculations just right…" He trailed off, sounding unconvinced by his own words.
"You're a group mind, Gregor," I reminded him. "You've got more mental capacity than all the Darkfolk combined. And yet you failed to notice my hand. Why?"
Gregor had no answer for that, so I answered for him.
"It's because your mind isn't clear. You're not thinking straight. I mean, why did you bother explaining your plan once Shamika and I got here? Why did you answer all the questions I asked you? I'll tell you why: because you wanted us to appreciate how smart you are. You've spent so much time observing Others, Gregor, that you've changed. Maybe you haven't changed as much as Shamika, but like her, you've become infected by Otherness. You've begun to appreciate it, to need it. And because of that, your emotions are beginning to override your intellect, interfering with it and clouding your thinking. And there's no
going back to the way you were. Even if you got rid of the Darkfolk, even if you somehow managed to get rid of Shamika, some part of you would still long for Otherness. You wouldn't just be alone. You'd be lonely. Forever."
Gregor continued to stare at me with his black gem-like eyes for a long time. But eventually he turned away, and when he did, the tentacles that were holding onto Devona and me released us and slithered back into the walls and floor. Gregor walked several feet away, sat down heavily, and hung his head. Shamika looked at him for a moment before going over and sitting down next to him. She then put an arm around her brother and leaned against his ebon carapace. Then, as we watched, their two forms merged into one large amorphous black mass. The mass reformed, shrinking as it did so, until it became Shamika. Only this version of Shamika had Gregor's black gem-like eyes.
She smiled. "We're One again."
Devona came over to me then and put her arms around me. I only had one arm at that moment – the other lay on the floor where Gregor's tentacle had tossed it – but I wrapped it around her and hugged her as tight as I could.
A moment later there was a shimmering in the air next to the circle of magic-users, all of whom were just beginning to stir from their trance. Darius materialized and gazed down upon his dead body.
"I thought I felt someone shoot me," he said.
NINETEEN
I watched myself walk down the street, a black silhouette melting into the darkness around me.
And so it goes. Another case ended, and another waiting for me somewhere up the road. And though I was victorious, I felt nothing, for what had I really accomplished in the end? Sure, I'd tilted at a few windmills and saw to it that some very bad people got what was coming to them. But no matter how many cases I solve, no matter how many wrongs I right, at the end of the day I'm still a dead man playing at being alive – and that's all I'll ever be.
I'm Matt Richter, zombie PI. And my story continues… though sometimes I wish it didn't.
The Mind's Eye screen went blank, the orb closed its lid, and Devona clapped.
"I thought that was pretty good," she said.
I leaned back on the couch, looked up at the ceiling, and sighed. "I can't believe Varney finished that stupid film. This has to be the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to me."
Devona scooted closer and put her arms around me. "More embarrassing than the time you accidentally switched bodies with Esperanza the Six-Breasted Stripper in the middle of one of her performances?"
"Much," I said. "I just pray Varney's producer doesn't get it in his head to do a sequel."
Once Devona learned who Varney really was, Galm ordered him to return to his job as a cameraman since his cover was blown and he could no longer guard Devona in secret. Devona hadn't been thrilled with the fact that her father had assigned a babysitter to watch over her, but she'd been impressed with Varney's skills and was considering asking him to leave Galm's employ and come to work for her at the Midnight Watch. One thing about my love: she doesn't hold a grudge, at least not where business is concerned. She still, however, wasn't happy that we'd had to return the holy objects the Hidden Light had loaned us. As powerful as the objects were, we could've made good use of them in our work, but I'd promised Maggie I'd return them, and a deal is a deal. Besides, I needed to stay on the Hidden Light's good side. Where else in this town am I going to get holy water and silver bullets? Plus, I can use all the good karma I can get.
Despite Devona's anger at Galm for sending one of his servants to guard her, she'd begun talking with him again, and while I doubted they'd ever be close – Galm wasn't exactly Father of the Year material – they were no longer quite as estranged as they'd been. I didn't trust him, and I knew Devona didn't either, but if she wanted to try to repair the rift between them, I would support her. He had come when Varney called, and without his help, we'd never have stopped Gregor. That counted for something. But I still planned to keep a close eye on the sonofabitch.
Devona hugged me tight, but there was no danger of my falling apart at the seams any more. My body was once again in good shape, thanks to Papa Chatha. After all the magic-users had been freed from Gregor's trance and the insects inside their heads removed, we'd all returned to the city. Once Papa was back in his place, he immediately saw to shoring up the cohesion spells that were keeping my body together, and he reattached my severed arm and fixed the acid-scarring on my face. All at no charge, which I thought was damn decent of him. I should rescue him more often.
Devona and I sat on the couch in our apartment, a number of cardboard boxes stacked against the wall behind us. Devona must've noticed me looking at them, for she said, "You going to miss this place? It's been your home since you first came to Nekropolis."
I looked around the living room, but the only memories of the apartment that came to my mind involved Devona.
I shook my head. "This place is just a few cramped rooms. It only became a home once you moved in."
She cuddled closer to me. "Good answer, Mr Richter."
Tomorrow Scorch, Bogdan, and a fully healed Tavi were going to show up and help us move our stuff into the Midnight Watch. I wasn't sure what it was going to be like living there, especially with the others around all the time. But if our children were going to be as magically gifted as Galm and Varvara thought they'd be, we needed a safe place to raise them, someplace where it would be harder for anyone who wanted to exploit their power to get at them. And since Devona still refused to accept her father's invitation to move into the Cathedral – a decision I wholeheartedly supported – the Midnight Watch seemed like our best alternative.
"I'm glad you approve, Mrs Richter."
Varvara had been so grateful for our part in exposing Klamm's true identity and ending the war between her and Talaith that, when she discovered Devona and I wanted to get officially married, she'd insisted on performing the ceremony herself – and more to the point, hosting the party afterward. Being a Darklord made Varvara one of the six highest authorities in this dimension, so she was as qualified to marry us as anyone else in the city. Besides, the true marriage between Devona and myself had taken place in our hearts. The ceremony was just an outward way to honor that commitment in front of friends and family. And I had to admit, Varvara threw one hell of a celebration for us afterward. It had been over a week, and I'd heard there were still people struggling to recover from their hangovers.
A small voice somewhere close by said, "I liked the movie too."
We turned and saw a roach-like insect clinging to the wall behind us. It quivered under our combined gaze as if frightened, but it didn't flee.
"Hi, Shamika," Devona said, speaking gently. "How are you doing?"
"Good," the insect said, still keeping its distance. "The two halves of my consciousness have finished merging mostly, but I'm still having trouble adjusting to my new personality. I'm sorry I haven't been around much. I mean, I've been around, of course. I just haven't been very… social. I hope you understand."
"Of course we do," Devona said. "We enjoy seeing you whenever you feel up to visiting. Isn't that right, Matt?" "Yep." A zombie of few words, that's me.
After Shamika and Gregor merged on Ulterion, they'd returned to Nekropolis as one being, and eventually their change was passed on to every component of the Watchers throughout the city and beyond. Now all the Watchers were One, and that One was a combination of Gregor and Shamika. Gregor had hated and feared Otherness, and Shamika had been fascinated by it. The new personality that resulted from their merging liked Others well enough, but was shy around them, unsure how and when to interact. As such, Shamika – for the Watchers had chosen to be known by that name from now on – remained hidden in the shadows for the most part. But she no longer wanted to destroy Nekropolis and get rid of the Darkfolk, and with every passing day she seemed to – you'll pardon the expression – be coming out of her shell more. She'd even showed up in her teenage girl guise briefly at our wedding, just long enough to have a dance wit
h me. She'd also taken to helping out around town. She'd already helped finish the reconstruction of the two bridges the Weyward Sisters had destroyed, and she was currently aiding in the reconstruction of the top level of Demon's Roost.
Darius – at least the version of him that appeared on Ulterion – bore me no ill will for shooting one of his selves. I'd known something that Gregor, for all his skills at gathering information, hadn't: one of the things that allows Darius to traverse dimensions is because, in a sense, he's a hive mind like Shamika, one consciousness spread across the entire Omniverse. Killing one aspect of him was akin to a human losing a toe. Painful and inconvenient, but not life-altering. Darius had offered to take Shamika to another dimension where the Darkfolk had never left Earth and where no other Watchers already existed, a place where she could be completely alone if she wished. He warned that it would take him a while to transport all of her, considering that her consciousness was contained in trillions of separate bodies, but he was willing to do it if she wanted. She'd considered his offer, but in the end she'd chosen to remain in Nekropolis. I was glad. A city of monsters just wouldn't seem complete without hordes of intelligent insects crawling around in the shadows. And, truth to tell, while I was glad Gregor's personality was no more, I'd grown more than a little fond of Shamika.