“I’m not going to say it again.”
“Lighten up, Jack. You really should try that tantric yoga.”
“I have dust to keep me limber.”
“That stuff will kill you.”
“I’m hoping.”
“If you’re so hell-bent on being offed, we could mate.”
“I do have something for you. Here’s my card.” I handed her a sopping wet business card from my wallet and she took it. It was probably a mistake, but I was warming to the shark woman.
“A detective, huh?”
“Not too many other jobs for guys like me. I take the cases no one else wants.”
“I’ll keep you in mind if I ever need a dick.”
“Cute,” I said and laughed. The shark woman winked. “You shark women aren’t too bad, if you overlook the mass murdering stuff.”
“If we mated, you wouldn’t mind being murdered, honey. Believe me. I’ve never had any complaints. Think about it. Bye, Jack. I hope you find your…whatever he is.”
And with that, Georgina dove back into the Broken Sea and swam off.
I dropped onto the sand exhausted. I planned on taking a quick rest, but I fell asleep as soon as my head touched the ground. Fortunately, I had a dreamless sleep. No Room 731, thank Lucifer. I thought things were looking up, until a curious goblin awoke me with a kick to the face.
5. Down and Out in the Broken Lands
The goblin smiled, exposing yellow-green teeth. I knew a demented dentist who could clean that infernal plaque, but the goblin wasn’t getting any referrals from me.
If the Broken Sea is the deadliest place in Pandemonium, the Broken Lands run a close second. The place was home to all manner of nasties, especially demons and vampires. The terrain was rocky and full of fires—oh boy, were there ever fires—and lava. Lots of flowing lava. The city is the most hellish of the hells in Pandemonium, which is saying something.
I rubbed my jaw where the goblin kicked it and watched two other goblins appear. I tried to sit up, but it wasn’t going to happen. I fell back on the sand with a thump. Seaweed covered most of my body. My dry cleaner will be able to put both his kids through wizard school with my bill.
One of the goblins jumped on my chest and took a seat. The black tufts of hair sticking out of his pointy ears were kind of gross. Grosser than his yellow, bloodshot eyes.
“Comfy?” I asked.
I tried pushing him off, but my arms didn’t want to work.
The goblin reached into the inside pocket of my jacket and pulled out my wallet. One second in the Broken Lands and I was being mugged. He opened it, most likely checking for cash, which of course wasn’t there.
“Are things that bad in the Broken Lands that you guys have to mug shipwrecked zombies?”
The goblin jumped onto its clawed feet and hopped up and down like a Mexican jumping bean on dust. He yelled something to his compatriots in the goblin language. They ran over to him and he handed them my card. Who knew goblins liked business cards?
I lay on the sand a moment groaning in pain. Man, had I taken a beating. I tried sitting up again. I got there, but I immediately fell back down. I had never wanted a hit of dust worse than at that moment. I reached for my pack of Lucky Dragons. They were soaked. I tried to wring out one hellfire stick, but it was hopeless. Well, third time’s the charm. I slowly rose, heard a few pops in my back, and sat up.
The goblins stood before me, their eyes wide.
I played it cool, waiting for them to get close. I’ve had goblin before and it’s some of the toughest meat around. I tried loosening my jaw.
The goblin who pinched my wallet shouted, “Dead Jack, the goblin queen seeks your presence!”
“Goblin queen, huh?” It seemed a bit queer that anyone here would seek my presence when I had just dropped in, but I had nothing better to do.
The goblin helped me to my feet. The two other goblins stood at my sides and propped me up. Together, like a four-headed crab, we inched our way toward the woods just beyond the beach.
“Any reason why your goblin queen wants to see me?” I asked.
The goblins had lost their chattiness. They wouldn’t answer any of my questions or even tell me their names.
The trio led me through the woods until we came to a cave. By then, I could walk a bit, but with the way I was shuffling I looked like a biter right off the boat from the Zombie Islands.
I entered the cave on my own. The goblins ran ahead, shouting, “Dead Jack! Dead Jack! Dead Jack!” The goblins leapt about and bounced off the walls, where torches flickered in niches. Their thin arms flailed in the air. They were like little kids on Christmas morning.
I could have headed back out of the cave and away from the goblins, but I was curious about this goblin queen. I had never met royalty before.
Shadows danced on the walls and the sound of dripping water echoed in the chamber. As I followed the goblins, I noticed we were heading farther underground. The air grew colder and damper. It didn’t help that I was soaking wet. I was going to be the first zombie to die of pneumonia.
Finally, we came to a wooden door with a big brass ring in the center. The goblins had settled down, no more funny business. The first goblin pulled on the ring and carefully opened the door. He bowed his head, as did the other two goblins. I walked through the door after I pulled off all the bits of seaweed from my suit and adjusted my hat to the proper angle. I wanted to make a good impression. The goblins stayed behind.
I might have entered a palace. The place was lavish even by Upper West Side ShadowShade standards. I saw sapient fainting couches with silk massaging hands and elvish rugs woven with gold threads and diamond chandeliers that glittered like fairy dust in the sun. The light glinted off obsidian statues of griffins and phoenixes and sphinxes. Paintings depicting moments in Pandemonium’s history hung on the walls. One showed the first great battle between werewolves and fairies that gave the Red Garden its name. Ferocious wolves in shiny armor tore through ranks of fairies equipped only with pointy hats and shoes. The red came mostly from the wee folk.
A goblin in trousers, a red velvet smoking jacket, and ascot stood in front of a large gilded mirror. I had never seen a goblin wearing clothes. Maybe that was because this fella owned all the apparel in the Broken Lands. Beside the mirror were racks and racks of every type of fashion imaginable: from togas and zoot suits to hoop skirts and tuxedos. The goblin was no taller than Oswald. How did I know that? Because Oswald was standing right next to him.
Oswald wore a white suit with red ascot. At the moment, he was trying on a floppy hat, which he positioned at different angles while checking himself out in the mirror.
“I prefer the one with the red feather,” the clothed goblin said.
“I don’t know,” Oswald said. “I think this one works better with my head shape. It’s so hard to find a well-fitted hat these days.”
They were too busy to notice me so I cleared my throat. The two well-dressed shrimps pried themselves from the mirror and turned.
“Putting on a play?” I asked.
“Jack!” Oswald said.
“You’re like a bad penny, Oswald. You keep coming back.”
“I told the goblins to keep an eye out for you. I figured you’d wash up sooner or later.”
“You look ridiculous, by the way.”
“I think I look swell,” Oswald said as he placed his hands on his hips and cocked his head to the side.
“These clothes come from the finest elvish tailors in Pandemonium,” the goblin said.
“Oswald, you look like a milkman with a bleeding goiter,” I said. “Take off the suit.”
“Are you the only one in the relationship allowed to wear clothes?” the goblin asked me.
“We don’t have a relationship.”
“See?” Oswald said to the goblin. “This is what I’ve been telling you.”
“He does seem to have issues,” the goblin said.
“I don’t know why I put up with it.”
/> “What have you been telling this guy?” I asked the homunculus.
The goblin’s bat-like ears shot straight up. “I am a queen, you dead dolt!”
“Never seen any queen dress like you.”
“How many queens have you seen?”
“Counting you? One.”
The queen turned to Oswald and said, “I really do not see how this zombie can be of help to the goblin nation. He seems a perfect idiot, and a terribly dressed one at that. Were you buried in that suit?”
“What makes you think I was buried? Don’t believe everything you hear about zombies.”
“Well, I believe that suit should be put out of its misery. Burn it so it has no chance of being resurrected.”
“I don’t need this abuse,” I said. “Come on, Oswald. Let’s scram.”
“Wait, Jack. The queen has a job for us.”
“Not interested. I’m retired.”
“When did you retire?”
“The moment I was tossed into the Broken Sea. I’m going to live out my days in rest and relaxation far from leprechauns and water.”
“The queen needs our help, Jack.”
“I’m leaving. If you want to stay, be my guest. You seem very comfortable here.”
“Oswald, I don’t see how your friend can help us,” the royal said. “He doesn’t seem to have a brain cell left in his thick skull.”
I had enough and began to walk out of the goblin queen’s boudoir. Beside the door something caught my eye. A golden bowl on a golden table. It was full of rainbow-colored powder.
“Is this fairy dust?” I asked.
“Jack!” Oswald shouted.
I stopped and turned to the goblin queen.
“The goblin nation is the number-one supplier of dust in the Broken Lands,” she said.
I was warming to this cross-dressing goblin. “Out of curiosity, what’s the job?”
“The goblins’ cats are missing,” Oswald said.
I don’t work with animals, not unless you count Oswald. But…the dust.
“Why do you have cats?” I asked. “You eat them or dress them in tuxedos for laughs?”
“Felines are sacred to us,” the goblin queen said. “They are our companions.”
“I never cared much for cats myself.”
“They’re incredibly attuned creatures. I might say they are the most magical of all the beings in Pandemonium.”
“How many cats are we talking here?”
“Fifty-two black cats,” Oswald said.
“That’s not much to go on. All the cats in Pandemonium are black.”
“They started going missing about three months ago,” Oswald said. “No one has ever seen it happen. They just vanish and are never seen again.”
“Probably just some hungry demons. You got lots of them in the Broken Lands. Why don’t you find them yourselves? You know this area better than we do?”
“You’ve met some of the goblins, haven’t you?” the goblin queen said. “They’re not the most reliable creatures.”
I nodded.
“Jack can find your cats, Your Grace,” Oswald said. “I make a solemn vow to you.”
The goblin queen stroked her silk ascot. She looked at Oswald. “I have faith in you, Oswald,” she said. “I can see you have spirit. I’m not too sure about your friend, but if the two of you can return our cats, the goblin nation will be eternally in your debt.”
“Two kilos of dust a day, plus expenses,” I said.
“Agreed.” She responded so quickly I kicked myself for not asking for more.
“First two days payable now. And Oswald loses the suit. He looks like a dwarf pimp.”
6. The Best-Laid Plan
“Do you have a plan?” Oswald asked with an irritating, little man with a chip on his shoulder tone.
We walked across the burning plains of the Broken Lands, heading north. The goblin queen had said the cats liked to do their business there, though they never went much farther than a few yards from the border of Goblin Town. Smoke emanated from the innumerable fissures that crisscrossed the ash-covered ground. Everything was dead as far as the eye could see. Black and featureless, except for the orange-red glow on the horizon. That came from the Really Big Pit of Fire. The Broken Lands were filled with big fires, but this one, well, it was really big. It’s probably been burning since the creation of Pandemonium. I’d meant to torch Oswald’s suit there, but I couldn’t wait. As soon as we left the goblin’s cave, I had him disrobe. I shoved the suit in a crack in the ground and the thing went up in flames. Those threads were a fire hazard. I did him a favor.
“I have a plan,” I said.
“Is it the first plan that entered your dust-addled head? The simplest, dumbest, most dangerous plan you could come up with?”
“It’s a good plan. I think you’re going to be surprised.”
I shook out a wet hellfire stick from my pack and tried to light it, but it was tough going.
“Let’s try something different this time,” Oswald said. “Let’s brainstorm. We’ll bounce a few ideas off each other, see what sticks, huh?”
I got the tip of the Lucky Dragon to glow a bit, but it fizzled out. I tossed it on the ground and put the lighter away.
“I already have a plan,” I said.
“Yes, I know, but let’s see if there’s a better plan. You know, one that won’t involve us getting throw in the sea or used as kraken bait.”
I stopped and sat on a heap of orc bones. I took out another hellfire stick and blew on it, hoping I could dry it out.
“Sure, what do you propose we do?” I asked.
The glow of the Really Big Pit of Fire grew brighter. I could see licks of flame shooting into the sky. It felt a bit hotter here, too. I held up the hellfire stick in the hot air and shook it. I needed a drag if I was going to listen to Oswald.
The homunculus stood before me like he was a business executive presiding over a board meeting. “Okay,” he said, “thank you for hearing me out, Jack. I think we should go canvassing for information. We knock on doors, we gather information. Find out what people around here know about these missing cats or who might benefit from taking them. First, though, we need to create a grid and move systematically. You can take the east and I’ll take the west.”
“Can you morph into a cat?”
“What?”
“I’ve never seen you change into a cat. I was wondering if you’re capable.”
“Of course I can change into a cat. That’s not much of a challenge. Cats have pretty simple structures.”
“Well, show me.” I raised an eyebrow.
“I’m trying to come up with a plan here. You’re messing with the brainstorming flow.”
I glared at the homunculus and waved my still-sopping-wet hellfire stick at him. “Amuse me, shape-shifter.”
“You’re insane, you know that?”
“I know that.”
Oswald stood there not doing anything. I raised my eyebrow higher.
“But then we get back to brainstorming, right?” he said.
“Absolutely.”
Oswald’s body bulged and contracted like a rubber accordion until he was a tight, dense sphere. Out of the sphere formed cat legs and a head and a tail, even whiskers. In a matter of seconds, Oswald had become a nearly perfect little kitty cat. I wanted to throw a ball of yarn at him.
“We don’t even know if these cats were taken,” he said while he slunk back and forth, getting used to his feline body. His tail whipped from side to side. “They could have just walked off, gotten tired of Goblin Town. Cats are pretty unpredictable. Maybe we just go on a scouting mission. Think like a cat. Where would a cat go?” Oswald pawed at the ground.
“You missed the most important part,” I said.
“What’s that?”
“All cats in Pandemonium are black, dunzy.”
“So?”
“Roll around on the ground and cover yourself in the ashes.”
“Co
me on, Jack.”
Another raised eyebrow and Kitty Oswald dropped to the ground and rolled in the ash, getting himself good and dirty and, most importantly, black. When he stood back up, he was the spitting image of a Pandemonium pussycat.
“Not bad, Oswald. Good kitty.” He smiled. He liked that. I think I heard a little purr. “Go scamper a little farther ahead. Frolic like a cat. Really sell it. Make me believe your name is Mr. Whiskers.”
“The brainstorming is going well, isn’t it?”
“I’m with you a hundred percent, and I think embodying a cat is really helping your thought process. You’re on fire, Mr. Whiskers.”
“I am, right?”
Oswald shot across the burning plain, showing off his cat-like reflexes. He leapt and slunk and pawed at the sky. He purred and preened. I thought he was about to cough up a hairball.
“Farther out!” I shouted and waved him off.
Oswald scampered deeper into the wasteland. When I could barely see him, he stopped and shouted, “I’ve contributed, but you’re not brainstorming at all. You never even told me your plan. What is it?”
I lit the hellfire stick and it began to glow.
“I use you as bait!”
“Bait?”
Just then, a black, winged nightmare dropped out of the sky, grabbed Kitty Oswald in its talons, and shot off in the direction of the Really Big Pit of Fire.
That wasn’t part of the plan. “Crap!” I shouted, mostly to myself. I hadn’t thought of a flying cat-napper.
I took a drag on my hellfire stick and watched the giant flames of the pit dance and shake in the darkness like some devilish bonfire. I took a few more drags until I felt a bit warm inside, and then I took off as fast as I could in the direction of the ancient fires of the Broken Lands.
7. And Into the Fire
I couldn’t get up to full power-shamble speed, but I was lurching in double time. I looked like a marionette controlled by a puppeteer with the shakes.
The Broken Lands didn’t make running any easier. They call them the Broken Lands for a reason. The hard-packed ground was cracked and in pieces. With each step, I nearly went flying.
Dead Jack and the Pandemonium Device Page 4