by Tim Waggoner
And since the M-gineers couldn’t be certain precisely where in Chicago those Doors led, each member of Neil’s team had chosen a different one, hoping at least some of them would let them out close to the Bean.
“So you’re forced to travel by Door like the rest of us ordinary schlubs,” Jinx said. “That must really put your little gray undies in a twist.”
Neil scowled but otherwise didn’t rise to the bait. “Now thanks to you two, I have to jog to AT&T Plaza – unless I can get a cab this time of night.” He nodded to Quietus. “I assume he had something to do with your monumental screw-up.”
I was used to how crotchety Neil could get when he had to do a rush repair job – especially a big one, and I had to admit that Jinx and I had caused an impressive amount of damage, even by our standards. But that didn’t bother me as much as the fact that we’d failed to prevent Quietus from claiming another victim tonight, and I was in no mood to put up with Neil’s crap.
“Better get moving,” I said. “The clock’s ticking, and you’ve got work to do.”
Jinx grinned. “A lot of work.”
Neil’s scowl deepened, and for a moment I thought he was going to start yelling at us, but instead he sighed.
“Which direction?” he asked.
“North,” I said, and pointed.
Neil gave us a last dark look before turning and jogging off in the direction I’d indicated.
Quietus had, naturally enough, said nothing during our conversation with Neil, nor had he displayed any physical reaction. He’d remained statue-still the entire time, which I found way creepier than his silence.
“Let’s go,” I said to Jinx. “The sooner we get this sonofabitch to the Rookery, the better.”
“You think Sanderson will let me interrogate him?” Jinx asked, practically salivating at the thought. “I’ve got some new toys I’ve been dying to try out.”
I shrugged. “You can ask, but after what you did to Scuttleback, I think Sanderson will say no.”
Jinx made an exaggerated pouty face. “That wasn’t my fault! I didn’t think his shell would break that easy!”
If Quietus thought anything about our exchange – or for that matter, even heard it – he gave no sign.
Neil had left the Door open when he departed, but only dark was visible inside – thick, impenetrable shadow that was blacker than the blackest night, blacker than the inside of the deepest subterranean cavern. Which, considering it led to a city inhabited by living nightmares, was only appropriate.
Maintaining our mutual grip on Quietus, we stepped into the darkness. I reached behind me and pulled the Door shut, sealing us in otherworldly shadow.
The transition from one dimension to another is supposedly instantaneous, but it’s never seemed so to me. There’s a moment in between when the darkness closes in and clings to you like a second skin – cold, clammy, and claustrophobia-inducing. You’re sealed in completely, like an insect caught in amber, trapped, unable to move. There’s an instant of panic, a nauseating, soul-chilling fear that this time you’re not going to make it through to the other side, that you’re going to be stuck here, wrapped in darkness, forever.
The voices are the worst part. I’ve never told anyone on the Shadow Watch about them because they’d probably think I was crazy, and Sanderson would pull me off active duty. The sound seems to come from inside my ears as much as outside, a chorus of soft, eerie whispers, like distant ocean waves breaking against a cold, barren shore. Sometimes I think I can almost make out words, but just when I’m on the verge of understanding, I emerge from the darkness, and everything is normal again – or at least as normal as it ever gets in my life.
This time was no different. The three of us stepped out of an open doorway not much different from the one we’d entered. Transitioning between dimensions is disorienting for humans, but less so for Incubi, at least when it comes to arriving in Nod. They always know where they are there. So the instant I closed the Door behind us – which was set into a wall of a large brick building – Jinx said, “This is an alley in Soma Street. We’re in Newtown, about…” He considered a moment. “Four blocks from Oldtown.”
I gave a small sigh of relief and sent a prayer of thanks to the First Dreamer. Nod is big, and we might have ended up a lot farther away from the Rookery, so that delivering Quietus into the Shadow Watch’s custody would have been more problematic.
“Let’s go,” I said.
We both still had hold of Quietus’ arms, and I kept my M-blade pressed against his side. We moved cautiously out of the alley and onto the sidewalk. The negators were as effective in Nod as on Earth, but I wasn’t about to relax my guard around a master assassin.
Incubi don’t have to sleep, so Nod is busy all the time. (I was going to say 24/7, but since it’s always night there, measuring time isn’t one of the Incubi’s priorities.) Pedestrians – mostly Incubi with a smattering of humans here and there – thronged the sidewalks.
Some Incubi are human-looking in appearance, but most are creatures straight out of the deepest, darkest, most twisted levels of humanity’s collective unconscious. The sort of distorted monstrosities that would make the toughest Earth cop or soldier mess his or her undies. Hell, I’ve worked for the Shadow Watch for years, and I still get squicked out by the sight of the more hideous Incubi. It’s times like those when I’m glad to have a psychotic nightmare clown for a partner. He’s enough to give even the scariest-looking Incubus pause.
Most of the Incubi we passed were bare-necked, meaning they weren’t wearing negator collars and so were free to use whatever special powers they might possess. But around one in five were collared, and not with the temporary field negators like the ones we’d slapped on Quietus. These were permanent collars, made of thick silvery metal and welded closed. These were criminals, Incubi who’d broken the laws set down long ago by the Nightclad Council, and as punishment had their powers negated for varying lengths of time, depending on their sentence. And if that wasn’t punishment enough to prevent them from committing further crimes, they then would be sentenced to Deadlock Prison. I might not always be comfortable with sharing the streets with the more nightmarish Incubi, but I’d gotten used to it, more or less. But I don’t think I’ll ever become accustomed to seeing criminals walking around free. I’m always on edge when I’m in Nod, senses alert and ready for danger. Which, come to think of it, is probably why I’m still alive.
There are few vehicles in Nod, so the streets tend to be used as pedestrian overflow, especially by those Incubi too large to fit comfortably on the sidewalks. Occasionally, a rider on horseback, a carriage, a car, or some unidentifiable contraption created by the dreams of a mechanically inclined Ideator will go by. But in general, most people get around by what Shakespeare called shank’s mare – unless they have special abilities that allow them to travel in more convenient ways.
Most of the Incubi shot us dark looks as we passed. As you might imagine, the Shadow Watch isn’t the most popular institution in Nod, and it didn’t help that I recognized some of the Incubi as criminals that Jinx and I had captured.
The atmosphere of Nod is breathable, thanks to the unceasing efforts of the Unwakened, but the air has a thick ozone tang that I find unpleasant. Jinx refers to it as eau de électrique chair, and I had to admit it’s a pretty fair description.
The sky is cloudless, permitting a perpetually clear view of the star-filled sky that Noddians call the Canopy. The stars are for decoration only – another gift from the Unwakened, although primarily an aesthetic one. Nod is adrift with the turbulent energies of the Maelstrom itself – the raw material of creation – and the simulated night sky hides the seething, multicolored vortex beyond. The energy is so powerful and chaotic that even Incubi can’t tolerate looking at it directly for very long.
The most disturbing aspect of Nod, at least as far as I can see, is its moon: a glowing blue-white orb called Espial that resembles a gigantic floating eye, complete with lids and lashes. A sil
very iris surrounds a pupil that seems to exert the pull of a black hole, and the moon’s phases are created by its torturously slow blinking.
Right now, Espial was past full and its lids just beginning to close. Its cycle is roughly a month long, same as Earth’s moon, but unlike our planet’s satellite, Espial always seems to be gazing down upon Nod’s citizenry with a detached emotionless scrutiny that I find truly disturbing. The Incubi don’t seem to think much of it, though, ignoring Espial for the most part. I’ve tried to emulate them, but no matter what I do, I’m uneasy at the way the damn thing stares down at me, as if I were nothing more than an insect that it’s watching idly, hoping she’ll eventually do something interesting.
There are any number of explanations for Espial’s existence. Some say it’s a result of the Incubi themselves, created from the raw material of the Maelstrom through their combined unconscious will. Others say that the Unwakened created it and use it as a way to keep tabs on the city’s denizens. Still others – though admittedly not many – claim that Espial is the eye of the First Dreamer, or one of that being’s servants, watching over Nod for its own enigmatic reasons. Me, I don’t care where the damn thing came from. It gives me the creeps.
Even when wide open, Espial doesn’t provide enough light to illuminate the city fully, and there are streetlamps on every corner – chrome poles atop which crouch lightning bugs the size of large dogs. The creatures glow constantly throughout their life cycle and are replaced after they die. Seems like a lousy life to me, but then I’ve never heard any of the bugs complain.
If you had Espial’s view of Nod, the city would look like a series of concentric rings. Oldtown lies in the middle. This is, as the name implies, the oldest section of the city, and it’s where the most ancient Incubi live. Some of them are hundreds, even thousands, of years old. The architecture of Oldtown resembles that of an Earth village from the 1700s – small wood and stone buildings, cobblestone streets, or more often, dirt paths. There are some nightmarish touches in Oldtown, but overall, it’s more normal than you would expect. The Rookery is located in the center of Oldtown. The Aerie, the most exclusive section – where only the most powerful and distinguished Incubi live – is close by.
The next ring out is, unsurprisingly as well as unimaginatively, called Newtown. The architecture here, as well as the attitude, is more modern. Newtown resembles a small Earth city, steel and glass buildings, some of them quite tall, though not exactly skyscraper-level. There’s far more diversity of structure here. Some buildings look perfectly normal – more or less – but others appear to have sprung full-blown from a lunatic’s fever dream. Buildings with angles that don’t look quite right, and tooth-filled maws that appear and disappear at random in the street. That sort of thing.
After that, the next ring out is the Cesspit, a combination of New Orleans at its most decadent and the Old West at its wildest and deadliest. All your darkest desires can be fulfilled here, often at the same time, provided you survive long enough. Past that is a ring that’s simply referred to as The Murk. Incubi who are so nightmarish that they even terrify others of their kind live there, and very few non-residents go there if they can avoid it. This is where Deadlock Prison is located. The outer ring is called the Edgelands. It’s a barren, desolate place where only the strongest and most savage Incubi can survive. Once you enter the Edgelands – so the stories say – you can never return.
I’ve been there twice.
Jinx and I escorted our prisoner centerwise, the direction in which Oldtown lay. Our fellow pedestrians gave us a wide berth because our reputation, as the saying goes, preceded us. Jinx grinned maniacally at any Incubus who was brave enough to meet his wild-eyed gaze, and that was usually enough to get them to quickly avert their eyes and pretend we didn’t exist. Anyone else would’ve been satisfied to have his badassness recognized like that, but I knew that, at least on one level, Jinx was disappointed. He grinned like that as much to provoke others into attacking him as to warn them to keep their distance.
Ah, the joys of working with a psychotic nightmare clown. They are without number.
But one Incubus didn’t step aside as she approached us. I say she only because I knew her. She possessed no outward signs of gender or, for that matter, humanity – unless you count the fact that she walked upright. She stood eight feet tall and her reptilian body was unclothed. Her shoulders were broad, her limbs thick and well-muscled, and her scales gleamed as if she’d spent a fair amount of time polishing them. She had a long, powerful tail which swayed side to side behind her as she walked, in a kind of reptilian swagger. Her head was that of a crocodile but with eyes and a mouth that could, when she wished, approximate human expression. She had large hands which were humanlike too, with opposable thumbs, but the wicked-looking claws that jutted from her fingers were longer and – because she filed them every day – sharper than a true crocodile’s.
She stopped in front of us and smiled, revealing a mouthful of teeth. Thin lines of electricity coruscated across the yellowed enamel with soft crackling sounds. “Hello, Audra, Jinx.”
She gave my partner a nod, her smile widening and her teeth throwing off a few angry sparks.
She spoke in a thick Australian accent, her voice deep and guttural – exactly the way you’d expect a crocodile to sound.
“Shocktooth,” I said in acknowledgment, if not in greeting. “I’m surprised to see you bare-necked.”
“And I’m surprised to see you walking without a limp,” Jinx said to her. “I guess I’ll have to break both your legs next time.”
Shocktooth ground her teeth together, and the electric current that surged between them sizzled and popped.
A few years ago, Jinx and I had caught wind of a jumper operating in the Maul. Jumpers import adrenaline from Earth and sell it on the streets of Nod as jump juice. Since Incubi are nightmares made manifest, adrenaline is a highly pleasurable and addictive drug to them, and one for which they’ll pay through the nose.
Shocktooth had been working “security” for the jumper, meaning that she made sure transactions went down smoothly, and if they didn’t, she started snapping bones and demonstrating how she’d come by her name. Jinx and I busted the jumper and hauled him and his “associates” in.
The law in Nod is more lax than on Earth. Incubi are expected to behave chaotically. They are nightmares, after all. So the jumper was sentenced to Deadlock, but Shocktooth received only a three-year collaring. But she was bare-necked now, and that meant she was dangerous. And of course, she had a grudge to settle.
Quietus didn’t show any outward reaction to Shocktooth’s arrival, but I felt his arm tense beneath my grip, just the merest amount, but I knew what it meant. Quietus saw a chance to escape, and he was preparing to take it.
I shot Jinx a quick glance to see if he’d picked up on Quietus readying himself for action, but my partner only had eyes for Shocktooth at the moment. If we hadn’t been escorting a deadly assassin to the Rookery, I might’ve simply stepped aside and let Jinx have his fun. But we were, so I couldn’t.
A quick look around showed me that, just as I’d feared, we’d begun to draw a crowd. A crowd of Incubi always means trouble of one sort or another. But a crowd of Incubi watching one of their own confronting a pair of Shadow Watch officers – who happen to have yet another Incubus in custody – is reason to go to DEFCON 1.
Raising my voice slightly, I said, “Antwerp.” And when Jinx didn’t respond, I repeated it louder. “Antwerp!”
Jinx’s inhumanly wide grin faltered, and his right eye twitched.
Some couples use safe words to prevent one or both partners from getting injured when their sexual encounters become, shall we say, overenthusiastic. I established a safe word with Jinx to help rein him in for similar reasons. Not because I’m afraid of him hurting me when he goes full-on demonic clown on some bad guy – well, not too afraid – but because sometimes I need him to focus, and this was definitely one of those times.
I gave Shocktooth my best “Don’t fuck with me” look.
“You’re lucky we’ve got more important things to do,” I said, “or I’d let Jinx turn you into a handbag with a matching pair of shoes. Now beat it.”
Shocktooth didn’t appear intimidated in the least, and I wondered if I was losing my touch. The croc’s grin widened and the electric current coursing between her teeth became bright and started throwing off sparks.
“Thanks for the advice,” she said in a low growl. “Not gonna take it, though.”
I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, and I risked breaking eye contact with Shocktooth to check it out. Two figures were walking toward us from the middle of the street. One human, one more or less canine. The human was male, late twenties or early thirties, and wore a white poet’s shirt with poofy sleeves. His pants and boots were black, and he wore a sword in a scabbard at his belt. And if all that hadn’t been enough to peg the guy as having a serious pirate fetish, then the purple hooded mask and matching cape cinched the deal.
The canine – and I use the term loosely – padded along at the pirate’s side. The creature was the size of a small horse, with coarse black fur and a spiked collar around its neck. The spikes were long and ended in needle-sharp points. The beast’s mouth was open, displaying twin rows of wicked-looking teeth and a black forked tongue. The creature’s hindquarters were scaled instead of furred, and its long, writhing tail resembled a lizard’s more than a dog’s. A line of serrated bony ridges ran down the tail’s length, ending in a spiked protuberance that resembled a morningstar. Its feet were lizardlike too, with scaled toes terminating in sharply curved talons which clicked softly on the street as it walked. Its eyes were disturbingly intelligent, almost human-seeming, and I knew this Incubus was much more than the nightmarish beast it appeared to be.