Sensational Six: Action and Adventure in Sci Fi, Fantasy and Paranormal Romance

by Sasha White

  On the deader side, all the bums were gone. This wasn’t a surprise. By the time someone was living on the streets, their natural resistance to the occult was lowered, let alone their natural resilience. We’d lost three hookers and a couple of junkies as well.

  The mess was unreal, but one area Dirt Corps handled better than anything was toxic cleanup. I chose not to look – their ways were effective, but unbelievably gross. I don’t care who you are, watching a bunch of mummies, skeletons, liches, and worms gobble up gross ick is more than any stomach can handle.

  I went over to watch Ken work and Jack came with me. Ken had one hand on a dead hooker’s head, thumb and forefinger on the temples, with the other on the heart. He was concentrating.

  “What’s he doing?” Jack whispered to me.

  “Seeing if they’re worth reviving.” Ken had a perfect track record so far – he’d never brought back a potential minion.

  “But they’re dead.”

  “Yeah, well, there are ways. I mean, they won’t come back as human, but being a zombie’s not as bad as it’s cracked up to be. And there are other options. Hookers usually come back as succubae. It’s typecasting, but it works.”

  “What do the junkies and bums come back as?”

  “Bums usually opt for zombie. Junkies…well, junkies rarely come back.”

  “Why so?”

  “They’re already too close to the Prince.” This was true. There were so many sins out there, and everyone indulged in at least one of them, even if they thought they didn’t. But junkies were among the most willful, more so than alcoholics, adulterers, or murderers. Pedophiles, rapists, and junkies rarely got a second shot at life from us. We had standards and we also had history to back up our decisions.

  “Who’s the Prince?” Jack asked as Ken shook his head and moved on to the next body.

  “The Prince of Darkness.”

  “Oh. The Devil. Or is that Count Dracula?”

  “Neither.” I struggled to put the right words around what the Prince really was.

  “Count Dracula gets a bad rap for no good reason,” Ken offered. “He’s one of the main reasons the Prince hasn’t taken over.”

  “And the Devil’s really Yahweh’s servant,” Maurice added as he joined us.

  “Yahweh?” Jack sounded confused.

  “The entity most humans call God’s real name.” I was very fond of Yahweh, some because he was strong and righteous, mostly because he was the strongest god fighting against the Prince and it paid to support your boss.

  “God has a lot of names, but –”

  Ken interrupted Jack. “Yes, he does. But there are also more gods out there than you can count. And they all have a variety of names. But each prefers the name he or she feels is truly theirs. The one you’re talking about is named Yahweh. He likes his name used, by the way, though not in vain.”

  “So, what does he do when someone says ‘God damn it’?” Jack sounded ready to sign up for H.P.’s Gods and Monsters for Beginners class at Necropolis U. I was getting worried.

  “He laughs,” Maurice replied. “If he even hears it. ‘God’ is a general term. Now, if you cursed using his real name, then he’d be taking an interest. But when someone goes, ‘Oh God, oh God’ and then orgasms, it’s just a general statement, sort of like ‘the sky is blue’ or ‘demon kind are scary’.”

  “So, the Prince isn’t Count Dracula and he isn’t the Devil,” Jack said. “So, what is he?”

  My wrist-com came to life as the Count calmly answered. “Evil incarnate.”

  Chapter 7

  Jack looked around. “You know, supposedly, all of you are evil.” He didn’t sound accusatory or even fazed.

  “Those are stories,” the Count explained. “Started by the Prince.”

  “But you’re undeads.”

  “Yes? What’s your point?” The Count sounded polite and mildly offended.

  I decided to rejoin the conversation. After all, Jack was my partner. “We have souls. Unless we give our souls to the Prince, we’re like humans, and we have free will. And, yes, we’re undead. But we’re also alive – we call it being unalive. What we don’t want to become is dusted. Dusted means unlikely to come back.” We didn’t want to become turned, either, to come back as a minion, but some things I didn’t like to talk about, ever.

  “But I thought you lost your soul when you became a vampire or a werewolf.”

  “No. You lose your soul when you give it to the Prince. Otherwise, it’s yours. Well, yours and your god’s.”

  “Which god is yours?”

  “I’m a Yahweh girl, but there are plenty of other gods out there just as worthy.”

  “So, like, Zeus is still around?”

  “Around and kicking. And still on the side of good, so to speak. The Greek and Roman gods were all about partying like it was the end of the universe. One of the reasons Yahweh could get stronger – it’s hard to keep your faith in a god who’s more interested in screwing your wife, sister and daughter, all at the same time. Especially when you had a god right nearby who was doing his best to kick evil in the butt on a daily basis.”

  I felt a little better and went to werewolf form and onto my hind legs. Jack didn’t even blink, but he did catch me when I started to topple over. “You’re not doing too great. I think we should put you into one of the ambulances.”

  Maurice snorted. “That would be a fun trip to vivisection hell. No, we’ll take Vicki back to Headquarters. We have full medical there. Our kind of medical.”

  “I’m going with you,” Jack said calmly.

  I was going to protest but Ken said, “Okay.”

  “What?” Ken normally wasn’t big on bringing humans over without major security clearances. “He’s a human.”

  Ken shot me a look that said I was acting like an idiot. “He’s a human partnered with a werewolf. He’s a human who took in three vampires, a werewolf, a lich, a white worm, and a variety of Dirt Corps undeads fighting with an ancient Sumerian demon. And instead of running, wetting himself, or screaming like a little girl, he pulled out a gun and started shooting at the true enemy in front of him. I think he’s passed the tests, Vic.”

  “But…but….” I couldn’t bring myself to say what my real objection was. That the human guy I was sort of in love with was going to not only know I was a werewolf, but see all the undead side of me. I wasn’t ashamed. I was afraid. Not afraid he’d try to kill me, but that he wouldn’t like me any more, not even as a friend.

  Jack cleared his throat. “I’ve known you were a werewolf for a while.”

  “Come again?” I swiveled my head so fast I cracked my neck. Which was a good thing, so I didn’t complain.

  Jack grinned. “I’m on the Night Beat, Vic. The Chief considers me one of his best detectives, and you’re his favorite. I didn’t get partnered with you by random chance. I got partnered with you because the Chief knows we need to work with Necropolis Enforcement to survive.”

  “You knew? How long? And, wait a minute. The Chief knows? Who else knows?” I was supposed to be undercover inside Prosaic City P.D. Not to spy on them, but to protect them. Kind of hard to be undercover if everyone knows your secret identity.

  “Yes, the Chief knows. A select few others know. I think Darlene’s figured it out, but if so, she’s very discreet. Probably because she likes you. Everyone likes you, Vic. You’re a great officer and a nice person. I’ve known since I took you on as a partner. A little bitchy around the full moon, but a lot of people are. The Chief wanted to be sure your partner was able to protect you, and you can’t protect someone if you don’t know what her strengths and weaknesses are.” Jack sounded like he was trying to be soothing and reassuring. I didn’t want to let it work.

  But it did. I thanked the Gods and Monsters again for there being no full moon tonight. And decided to let that bitchy comment pass for now. “Well, okay. I guess. But you never said anything.” And we’d been partnered for well over a year.

  He shr
ugged. “I knew you were scared to tell me. Besides, it didn’t matter.”

  “This is so touching.” Maurice made a gagging noise. “When we get back to Headquarters, I think I’m going to barf up blood, I’m so nauseated by the love in the alleyway.”

  I was glad I was still fur-covered because that way Jack couldn’t see me blush. He just grinned again, though.

  I was going to say something when my ears picked up a noise. A high-pitched, urgent noise. “The ambulances are almost here. I think we have ten coming, maybe a dozen.” I figured Jack was right and Darlene had a good idea of what was going on, because that was a lot of emergency vehicles for four police officers.

  Amanda came over. “They’ll be here shortly. We need to go back to human forms or we need to disappear.”

  Chapter 8

  “There’s no way Vic can go back to human right now,” Ken said briskly. “She can barely stand upright.”

  “But I’m supposed to be one of the detectives on the scene.”

  “I’ll handle it,” Jack said. “I’d like one of the vampires to stay with me, though, just in case.”

  “I will,” Ken offered. “Maurice, you take Vic back to Headquarters and get her taken care of. Amanda, can you carry the others?”

  “Monty’s done with cleanup and he’s taking Dirt Corps back the way they came,” Amanda said. “So I’ll only have to worry about H.P.”

  Ken shook his head. “Nope. We have a new succubus and zombie that need to go with you.”

  Amanda sighed. “No problem.” Vamps were strong and Amanda worked out. Not that she was the vampire equivalent of a body builder or something, but she was stronger than the average vamp. She was at least as strong as Monty.

  “I’d take one, but Vicki squirms,” Maurice said. Sadly, he was right. Werewolves don’t like to fly all that much. And Maurice loved to fly fast and wild. It was all I could do to not claw him and jump for the illusion of safety when I wasn’t hurt. When I was it took all my concentration and his to keep me from freaking out, even if he flew slowly.

  “You need to get moving,” Ken said.

  “I’ll see you later, partner,” Jack said as he handed me to Maurice. “Behave and don’t bite someone’s head off.”

  “Funny. See you later.”

  Maurice snorted, Amanda picked up H.P., our new zombie, and our new succubus, and we all took off.

  “Slow down!”

  “Vicki, Vic, Vicster, Vicarino…you freak at granddaddy speeds, you freak at NASCAR speeds. I’m a formula vehicle and since it makes no difference, I’m going to get us there faster so I get clawed less.”

  Maurice had a point. I shut up, closed my eyes, and tried to relax.

  Didn’t help. I could feel the air moving past us, smell everything we whizzed by, hear the noises that showed me our speed.

  “What happened?” This question came from the succubus.

  “Well, an ancient Sumerian demon manifested and they always come out hungry,” H.P. began. I could recognize a lecture starting. I opened my eyes, did my best to drown out the lecture by humming “Werewolves of London”, and tried to enjoy the view.

  All things considered, Prosaic City looked pretty good from the air. Like all big American cities it had a variety of business and high-rise sections, older stately buildings surrounded by newer, sleeker ones, scattered suburban sections filled with every kind of tract home from simple to McMansion, a lot of streets and highways, an old downtown nice people didn’t want to be in after dark, a newer downtown where they did, and a variety of uptown and other higher class, hot spot, and trendy areas. Unlike many cities, it had a variety of rivers running through it and an impressive bridge system.

  And unlike every other city in this hemisphere, it had an underground like you wouldn’t believe.

  Prosaic City was one of the country’s older inhabited burgs. In the course of its existence it’s been rebuilt several times. Because it was built on top of Necropolis. Which was a bad move by the old-time Prosaic City Planning Council, but everyone makes mistakes, right? Just because no one else had settled on the pretty spot next to the water didn’t mean anything, they reasoned, they’d just gotten there first.

  Actually, they’d gotten there last.

  There are points in the world where the occult pull is particularly strong. Where the ley lines, longitude, latitude, winds, weather, and general forces of both nature and the occult combine with placement in the cosmos and an entity is formed that shouldn’t be able to exist in reality. I’ve heard them called Hell mouths, portals, doorways, entryways, and a variety of other terms. But those aren’t really accurate.

  What forms isn’t a door. What forms is a city. A city that exists both in this plane of reality and all the others at the same time. A place that wasn’t built but can never be removed, a power created by everything and nothing at the same time, something that wasn’t born but can never die. What my kind call an Undead City.

  In the American hemisphere, that city is Necropolis.

  Necropolis was here first, but most of its residents immigrated over time. The pull from an Undead City is strong. The power in one is even stronger.

  Prosaic City was built right on top of Necropolis. This made things hard for the Necropolites and weird for the Prosaics. Due to the way an Undead City worked, the humans could and did put their buildings and roads and such on top of things of ours that were already there. So, City Hall and the city courthouse was right on top of what was considered Necropolis’ Red Light District, which, as the Count said, made poetic sense.

  All the undead can see into at least two planes of existence, and most can see into more. Vampires and liches can see almost as many planes as a god. Werewolves aren’t quite as powerful magically, so we have limits. Which was okay with me. I had enough fun keeping Necropolis separated from Prosaic City on a nightly basis.

  Not that I wasn’t good at it. I was considered one of the best, if not the best, at cross-existence. But it had taken me years to hone the skill to perfection, and that much focus on one skill meant others weren’t quite as sharp. Then again, I never found not being able to look into one of the levels of Hell without trying to be a hardship. I didn’t care for Hell and never wanted to go there. That I had reasons to go there made it worse.

  We call moving back and forth between the human and undead planes sliding. Everyone has to learn it, it’s not natural to any being. Some humans did it as easily as undeads. They were usually mentally unstable – not before the slide, but after. It’s hard for a human to see myths and legends and worse in real life and know it’s real. Most minds can’t take it if they aren’t prepared.

  However, the younger, the better. That’s the main reason changelings exist. Not to steal babies but to save them. Children who can see the undead normally have a lifetime of pain and torment ahead of them, unless we get them first.

  Undeads, by our nature, don’t have the same issues. We know the human plane exists – at least two-thirds of us were human before we undied. But seeing the human world superimposed over the undead one was always good for a headache if your concentration faltered.

  “Now, this is one of the greater ironies of this particular age,” H.P. said, as I lost said concentration and “Werewolves of London” left my personal airwaves. “Necropolis Enforcement Headquarters shares existence space with the largest church in Prosaic City, Our Lady of Compassion, which has been compared favorably to Saint Patrick’s Cathedral and Notre Dame.”

  “Not if you have to fly through it,” Maurice muttered.

  “And the University,” H.P. went on, “sits on the same grounds as the Prosaic Country Club and Estates.”

  “You mean I’m gonna go to school where all the rich johns live?” The succubus wasn’t totally adapted to the undead way of life yet, that was clear.

  “Yes,” H.P. said cheerfully as we landed in front of Our Lady of Compassion, or the OLOC as we Necropolites called it.

  “But they won’t be able to see
you,” I mentioned. The succubus looked disappointed. And familiar. “Sexy Cindy?”

  “Yeah, that’s me. Was me,” she corrected. “Who are you, bitch?”

  “I’ll choose to take that as an attempt to be home-girly with me, and not stupid. It’s Detective Wolfe. In, ah, wolf form.” I looked down. “Sorry. In werewolf form.”

  Sexy Cindy’s eyes widened. “Whoa. No wonder you were always busting me.”

  “We were busting you because you were a prostitute working the worst parts of town.” Police work. It was truly all glamour and excitement.

  “You just didn’t like me propositioning your partner.”

  “True enough. You might have been the only one in Prosaic City’s criminal class who fell for the unmarked police car.”

  “It looked like a regular car,” she mumbled. “Not like I got a lot of time to go cruise the car lots or something.”

  I yawned. “Heard it before. Didn’t impress me then, doesn’t impress me now.” This was an old argument. You bust a perp, right after they realize you’re not buying that they’re innocent they explain that they have no opportunity to better themselves. Sadly true more often than not. But most of them never tried, either. Sexy Cindy was firmly in the never tried category. I wondered what being undead was going to do to her.

  “What am I in for now?” Sexy Cindy asked truculently.

  I told her the truth. “The rest of your unlife.”

  Chapter 9

  Necropolis Enforcement Headquarters followed standard Necropolis architectural design. I loved it, but it was always fun to see a newbie’s reaction.

  Our new zombie, who H.P. introduced as Freddy, and Sexy Cindy both looked around and gaped. “But…it’s all…modern,” Freddy said.

  “The city of the future,” Maurice said gaily. “We know, we know…where’s all the gothic crap, right? What, no gargoyles? No creepy statues? No horrifying images or evil words? What kind of self-respecting city of the damned is this?”