Night Terrors

by Tim Waggoner

  The Door – which Russell closed after he stepped through – was set into the outer wall of a souvenir shop, the kind of place where tourists can buy replicas of the Sears Tower, and Bears and Cubs T-shirts and hats. I checked the time with my wisper and saw it was almost 1.30 in the morning. The sidewalks were empty, which is good when you’re traveling with a six-and-a-half-foot clown, a guy in a pirate outfit, and a huge demonic canine.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Russell asked. “You want Bloodshedder to try and track Sanderson?”

  She looked at Russell and whined.

  “I know it’s a long shot,” he said. “But your sense of smell is stronger than any Earth dog. If we criss-cross the city long enough, there’s a chance you might pick up his trail.”

  I shook my head. “They’ve taken him to Perchance to Dream. Where else could they go?”

  “Anywhere on Earth or Nod,” Jinx said.

  I scowled at him.

  “What? It’s true, isn’t it?”

  “Technically,” I allowed. “But the Lords of Misrule wouldn’t have abducted Sanderson unless they had a use for him. If they just wanted him out of the way, they could’ve killed him, just like they did Damon and Eklips.”

  “Maybe,” Russell said. “But what if you’re wrong? If we hightail it to Perchance to Dream and Sanderson isn’t there, all we’ll do is alert the Lords that we’re on to them, and wherever Sanderson really is, they’ll move him. We might lose our only chance to get him back. I say we let Bloodshedder take a shot at finding him.”

  I knew what Russell proposed was logical, but I couldn’t stop thinking about those voices in the void, whispering for me to hurry, hurry.

  “That would take too long. I can’t explain it, but I’ve got a gut feeling that whatever move we’re going to make, we have to make it fast.”

  Russell started to protest, but before he could get a word out, Jinx stepped close and put an arm around my shoulders.

  “If there’s one thing I’ve learned during my years of working with Audra, it’s to pay attention when her gut starts talking. It makes the most interesting sounds. Squishy, rumbly, gurgly sounds mostly, but every once in a while, it makes these cute little high-pitched noises that sound like whale song. It’s really quite–”

  I elbowed him in the ribs, cutting him off.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  I lifted my wisper to my mouth and spoke a command. “Search for phone number. Name: Connie Desposito.” I hadn’t had time to program any numbers into my new wisper, but I knew her name was in the Shadow Watch database that lists all registered Incubi and Ideators on Earth.

  A soft chime sounded, indicating her number had been found.

  “Call,” I said. She picked up after the second ring.

  “Yeah?”

  “Hey, Connie. It’s Audra. Jinx and I need a ride. It’s an emergency. Big time.”

  There was a second’s hesitation, but then she said, “No problem. Where are you?”

  I checked the nearest street sign, told her our location, and she said, “Be there in a few minutes.”

  I thanked her and lowered my wrist. The wisper, sensing the movement, disconnected.

  “Before she gets here, there’s something we need to take care of,” I said. “Jinx and I experienced two Incursions in a row, almost as if they were targeted on us. I think they were. We need to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

  “Targeted Incursions?” Russell said. “How is that possible?”

  “Your people have better toys than the Shadow Watch,” I said. “Maybe the Lords have better than both.” I smiled. “And I have a theory. Jinx was struck by a number of Quietus’ dark shards when he attacked us last night. What if one of those shards did more than just cut Jinx? What if it implanted something inside him?”

  “Without even buying me dinner first?” Jinx said. “How rude!”

  “Like some kind of targeting device?” Russell asked. He thought for a moment. “Yeah, I suppose that’s possible.”

  I turned to Jinx. “Strip.”

  His features twisted into an exaggerated expression of horror. “Audra! You’re my partner, and I respect you immensely, but you are in a very real sense my creator. I appreciate your… uh, interest. I can’t blame you. After all, I am one hundred percent, grade-A, prime clown beefcake. But I don’t think a relationship of an, er, intimate nature between us would be appropriate. In other words – eew!”

  “You’re not funny,” I said. “Now take your clothes off. For the First Dreamer’s sake, most of the time I have trouble convincing you to keep your damn clothes on.”

  Jinx removed his jacket, tie, shirt, pants, and shoes, until his lean but well-muscled chalk-white body was revealed. Not counting the bits still concealed by his Bozo the Clown boxers.

  “Now there’s a sight I could’ve gone to my grave without seeing,” Russell said.

  Jinx’s lips curled away from teeth suddenly grown sharp. “I can arrange your trip to the afterlife any time you want.”

  Bloodshedder started growling.

  I held Jinx’s clothes, and I made sure to keep my hands away from his pockets. I didn’t want to risk any of his murderous novelty items taking my fingers off.

  “Knock it off, you three. Bloodshedder, give Jinx a good all-over sniff and see if you can find any foreign objects in his body.”

  “I had Chinese the other day,” Jinx said. “Does that count?”

  Bloodshedder glanced at Russell, and he nodded. Looking none too happy about it, Bloodshedder padded over to Jinx and began sniffing him.

  “Careful there, Lassie!” Jinx said. “You and I barely know one another!”

  Bloodshedder snorted to show she didn’t think he was funny either, and continued with her work. After a few moments, she jumped up, put her front paws on Jinx’s shoulder, and with a swift, savage motion she bit a hunk of flesh out of Jinx’s chest. Jinx shouted a word that’s probably frowned upon even in nightmare clown society, and clapped a hand to the wound to stop the bleeding.

  Bloodshedder – who’d once again lived up to her name – jumped down and spat a gore-smeared piece of clown meat onto the sidewalk. Then she grimaced.

  “Sorry,” Jinx said. “It’s the chalky aftertaste.”

  Russell and I knelt down, and I drew my new M-blade and prodded the flesh. I saw a small metallic sphere the size of a BB embedded in the meat. I pried it loose with the tip of my blade and then took hold of it between my thumb and forefinger. It was slick with blood, so I cleaned it on Jinx’s pants.

  I looked at Jinx then. “You need a bandage?”

  He removed his hand from his wound. His fingers were bloody, but his chest wound was already sealing itself.

  “I’m good,” he said. He then glared at Bloodshedder. “Better watch out. Next time, I’ll bite you.” He once again flashed a mouthful of sharp teeth.

  Unimpressed, Bloodshedder yawned.

  I tossed Jinx’s clothes to him. By this point, his body had reabsorbed the blood on his hand, and he was able to handle his clothing without staining it. He started to get dressed while Russell and I examined the tiny sphere.

  “Looks awfully small to be a targeting device,” Russell said.

  “If the Lords can create Incursions at will – including during the day – then they should be able to handle a bit of miniaturization,” I said.

  “Point taken.”

  Jinx dressed quickly. Since whatever clothes Night Jinx wears become a part of his substance in ways I’ve never understood, they practically flowed onto him. He then stepped over and examined the sphere.

  “You want me to smash it?” he asked.

  “No. If we do that, the Lords might know we found and removed it.”

  “We can’t just toss it into a Dumpster or the sewer,” Russell said. “If it also functions as a tracking device, the Lords will get suspicious if it looks like Jinx is remaining in one place the rest of the night.”

  “No worr
ies,” Jinx said. He reached into his pants pocket, rummaged around for a couple seconds and then pulled out a white rat. Well, most of its fur was white. On its head were blue and red markings that matched the color design of Jinx’s face. Jinx made some squeaking sounds to the rat, and the rat answered him back in kind. Jinx then took the sphere and held it out to the rodent. The rat swallowed it, and then Jinx knelt and placed the animal on the sidewalk.

  As he straightened, he said, “Try not to poop it out too soon, Itchy. Clench if you have to.”

  The rat squeaked once more and then scurried into a nearby alley.

  Russell looked at me, and I shrugged.

  “You have to admit, he’s not boring,” I said.

  Jinx grinned.

  Connie arrived soon after that, and Russell, Jinx, and I climbed into the Deathmobile, which was in its hearse Aspect. Russell and Jinx sat in the back, and I sat in the front next to Connie. Bloodshedder remained on the sidewalk.

  “She’ll be able to get to where we’re going faster on her own,” Russell said.

  “We’re going to Wet Dreams,” I told her.

  Bloodshedder yipped once, and then turned and bounded off down the sidewalk, moving like a shadow, swift and silent.

  I closed the passenger door and looked at Connie. “Let’s go.”

  “You got it, Audra.” She put the hearse in gear, and the Deathmobile glided away from the curb.

  “You said this was an emergency?” she asked.

  “It sure as hell is.”

  She grinned. “Then you three better buckle up.”

  We quickly did as Connie suggested. She then reached out, patted the dashboard, and spoke a single word. “Engage.”

  The Deathmobile’s engine rumbled, the sound building in volume and intensity, and then we were thrown back against the seats as the unearthly vehicle surged forward like a rocket.

  “Hope you guys can handle some extra Gs!” Connie shouted over the engine’s roar.

  I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth, and did my best to hold onto consciousness as the Deathmobile hurtled through the streets of Chicago.

  The Deathmobile decelerated as we approached Wet Dreams, which I was very grateful for. If the hearse had slammed on the brakes, I probably would’ve gone flying through the windshield, seatbelt or not. When the vehicle stopped, I told Connie to wait for us.

  “And keep the engine running,” I said.

  Connie looked at me. “You weren’t kidding when you said this was an emergency, were you?”

  “Nope.”

  She nodded. “We’ll be waiting.”

  Jinx, Russell, and I started toward Wet Dreams’ entrance, but before we reached it, a pair of figures stepped out of the alley. One was an emaciated bald man in jeans and a leather jacket, a smoldering cigarette in his mouth. His face was little more than a flesh-covered skull, and his eyes were a glowing fiery orange. Instead of fingers, he had cigarettes for digits, each one lit, smoke curling from the burning tips. The other figure, a female, wore a tank top and shorts, and her blond hair looked frizzed out as if she’d been subjected to an electric shock. There were dark circles around her eyes, and her lips were a harsh, cruel red. But her most striking feature was her legs. They were impossibly long and multi-jointed, like those of some hideously mutated insect.

  The male flexed his cigarette fingers and flames sprouted from the tips, but no matter how much they burned, his fingers didn’t decrease in length. The female flicked her wrists and from nowhere a pair of curved steel daggers appeared in her hands.

  The male smiled, and when he opened his mouth to speak, gray smoke wafted forth.

  “We were hoping you’d stop by tonight,” Cancer Jack said, his voice crackling like burning paper.

  Lizzie Longlegs smiled sweetly as her bizarrely angled legs quivered in excitement. “Payback’s a bitch, and so am I,” she said.

  I grinned at them. “I’m so glad to see you two!”

  Jack and Lizzie glanced at each other, then turned back to look at us.

  “Um, you realize we’re here to kick your asses, right?” Lizzie said.

  “You can do that later,” I said. “Right now we have bigger problems. Come on.”

  Without waiting for either of them to reply, I opened the door to Wet Dreams and stepped inside. A blast of noise hit me the instant I walked in – a mix of conversation, laughter, shouting, and music. The place was packed wall to wall, mostly with Incubi, but there was a scattering of humans in the crowd. It was hot as a blast furnace inside, and when I took a breath, it felt as if I were sucking in wet sand. I pulled my dream catcher badge from my jacket and held it high over my head.

  “This is a raid!” I shouted.

  Everyone got quiet.

  “Seriously?” someone said.

  “Not really,” I admitted. “I just need to get to the bar.”

  With much grunting and complaining, people made a path for us. I put my badge away and charged forward, the others following after me, including Jack and Lizzie, who had put their weapons away – or in Jack’s case, extinguished his finger-flames – for the time being, at least.

  Abe was in his usual seat at the bar, and I wondered if he’d gone home since the last time I’d seen him. Despite how crowded it was tonight, there were a number of empty seats at the bar, and I realized why when I saw Maggie sitting next to a tall, broad-shouldered figure garbed in a hooded black robe. Given how terrifying the Darkness can be in his Night Aspect, I was surprised that anyone was still in the bar. I figured Deacon must’ve been pouring the drinks extra-strong tonight.

  Speaking of Deacon Booze, he was, as always, behind the bar. He was in his Night Aspect, which is truly a sight to behold. He’s a large humanoid garbed in his usual clothing, albeit several sizes larger to fit this Aspect’s frame. But while his body resembles a human’s, his head is that of an elephant with long ivory tusks. A pink elephant.

  I don’t know what alcoholic dreamed up Deacon or how long ago it was, but every time I see him in his Night Aspect, it takes everything I’ve got not to burst out laughing. Don’t tell him, though. I don’t want to hurt his feelings. Or worse – piss him off so he won’t pass along info to Jinx and me anymore.

  I moved to the empty spot near Maggie and the Darkness, and gestured for Deacon to come over. Jinx, Russell, Jack, and Lizzie gathered behind me.

  “Hello, Audra,” Maggie said. “It’s good to see you again so soon!” She glanced at Russell. “I see you found the young man you were looking for. He fills out that pirate costume quite well, don’t you think?”

  Deacon joined us. “Two nights in a row, Audra? It must be my lucky week.”

  His trunk hung down slack on his chest, partially covering his mouth and muffling his voice. He stood several feet back from the bar’s edge to keep his tusks from spearing his customers.

  I skipped the small talk. I drew my trancer, flicked the selector switch to the highest setting, and pointed the muzzle at a spot right between his eyes.

  “Cut the master-of-the-house routine. I want you to tell me everything you know about the Lords’ plan – and don’t leave out a single detail.”

  Deacon’s elephant eyes flashed with anger, but when he spoke, his voice remained calm.

  “You know I don’t work that way, Audra.”

  “I don’t care about your stupid rules. The Lords have abducted Sanderson – as you probably know by now – and they’ve got some kind of tech they’ve been using to create Incursions. I intend to get my boss back and shut down the Lords’ operation. And you’re going to help me do that, whether you like it or not.”

  The anger in Deacon’s eyes blazed hotter, and his pink complexion edged toward crimson. When he spoke this time, while his tone remained calm on the surface, I could hear the tension beneath.

  “Go ahead and shoot. I’ll recover much faster than you think. And in the meantime, you’ll have to deal with a lot of angry customers who are wondering why I’m not serving them.”


  I’d been so focused on Deacon that I hadn’t noticed all conversation in the bar had ceased. I didn’t take my gaze off Deacon, but I could imagine Wet Dreams’ clientele all staring at me silently, trying to decide what, if anything, they should do. I might’ve been an officer of the Shadow Watch – which for a lot of people here was more than enough reason to hate me – but I was also a human. Incubi, especially those who are no longer bonded to an Ideator, didn’t appreciate a human giving orders to one of their kind. Especially when the Incubus being ordered is someone as beloved as Deacon Booze. Even with Jinx and Russell backing me up, I knew I wouldn’t stand a chance against everyone in the bar.

  The tension in the air grew thicker by the second, and I knew that something was going to have to break soon.

  When Maggie spoke next to me, I was so surprised, I nearly jumped.

  “Now, dear, you really don’t want to shoot Deacon, do you?”

  I didn’t answer and my gun hand didn’t waver.

  Maggie looked at Deacon. “Yes, you’ll heal from a trancer blast, even one at full power. But doing so would be awfully inconvenient, wouldn’t it? Not to mention painful.”

  Deacon didn’t respond to her, either.

  Maggie turned around on her seat to face the rest of the bar. She raised her voice so everyone could hear her.

  “And you’ve all been talking and fretting about the Incursions most of the night. I’ve heard the questions you’ve been asking one another. What’s causing them? Are they going to get worse? What will happen if they don’t stop? If Deacon knows anything that could help Audra stop the Incursions, don’t you think he should tell her?”

  Deacon and I continued our staring contest, while his patrons murmured uncertainly among themselves. No one did anything for several moments, and then – without lifting his head or raising his voice – the Darkness said, “You should all listen to Maggie.”

  His voice didn’t drip with menace, nor did it echo eerily throughout the bar. In fact, he didn’t sound much different than he did in his Day Aspect. But the effect of the Darkness’ voice was profound as it was instant. The Darkness was one of the most powerful types of Incubi – a fear-caster. And his ability to evoke terror in those around him worked on humans and Incubi alike. So when the Darkness spoke, everyone listened. I felt a surge of momentary panic wash over me like a cold wave, and I gritted my teeth and tensed my muscles until it passed.