Nightmare City: Part One: A Post-Steampunk Lovecraft Adventure

by Jack Conner

  With her fingers trembling from the Az, it took some effort to knot together three sheets, then test the strength of her knots. Toward the end of it, her high began to fade, and extreme weariness seeped throughout her limbs, anchors tying her down. She staggered back to the living room and snorted another gray line. Fire coursed through her again, and sparks exploded behind her eyes.

  Whoa. She’d better be careful with that stuff. She didn’t want to end up brain-fried like these poor bastards.

  On her way back to the sheet-rope, she came across the shoe rack. After some study, she picked a lime-green calf-high number with six-inch heels made in Amandie, a country famed for its craftsmen. It looked both gross and adorable. Quickly she tied it to one end of her rope.

  Marshalling her courage, she returned to the balcony and threw up her rope four times before the shoe snagged around one of the seashell shapes. She tugged on it, and it wedged firmly between two of the mounds. She hoped the shoe could bear her weight; she’d chosen it because it looked sturdy. Hopefully the Amandian craftsmen were as good as their rep.

  She wrapped her hands around the sheet and hauled herself up, but she must not be as strong as she thought she was, because her arms screamed with the effort. She only weighed about a hundred and fifteen pounds, it shouldn’t have been that hard. Wind slammed her against the side of the building, then blew her sideways, and she stifled a scream. When the wind calmed, she resumed climbing. At last, arms aching, she neared the edge of the roof, flung a leg over the lip and half pulled herself up. A quick heave and a roll to the side and she lay on her back, gasping and staring up at the stars. They blazed across the sky, closer and clearer than before. With the wind in her hair and the stars twinkling above, she smiled drowsily. Her fire had faded once again, quicker this time.

  She needed more Az. Exhaustion weighed her limbs.

  Too bad, kiddo. Up you go! She strained against the roof. It seemed to suck at her like glue. Every fiber of her muscles screamed. An itch in her nostrils craved Az. Fuck that. I am NOT getting hooked.

  Suddenly she heard a great whoosh. At first she thought it was the wind—and it was. But not a natural wind. A created wind. The gust nearly knocked her aside.

  Something roared. She heard taught fabric creaking. The whip of propellers. Then, to her shock, a massive dark shape eclipsed the stars, and every ounce of weariness she felt drained away, replaced by a surge of adrenaline. At first she thought she was looking at another haunt and she had half a mind to leap from the building to her doom rather than have the thing do whatever it did to people’s brains, but almost immediately she realized it wasn’t a haunt. The thing overhead was huge, a great blob blotting out the stars.

  “Oh gods,” she said, scrambling to her feet. Vertical now, she felt the wind tug at her with even more strength.

  The great shape wheeled overhead, slowly, almost seeming to drift. What could it be? As she stared at it, observing its torpedo-like silhouette against the stars, the truth dawned on her, and she laughed.

  “A zeppelin!” she said. “A fucking zeppelin!”

  From time to time she’d see one drifting over Lower Lavorgna, docking with one of the great skyscrapers there, picking up a group of aristos for travel or pleasure tours. Seeing their silver shapes gliding amongst the towers had always seemed like a dream to her, and she’d longed to get a closer glimpse of one, even take a trip in one someday if the fates were kind. Well, this was as close as she was likely to get. Hells, she could practically reach out and touch it!

  She stared, fascinated, as it drifted down to the other side of the Arch. Her heart thumping madly, Kat hunkered low and scurried up the gently curving slope of the structure. The wind pummeled her, bringing tears to her eyes and wrapping her briefly in the stink of some nearby factory, but she pressed on. At last she stood over what must be Loqrin’s apartment. On the east side jutted his balcony, the one that was adjacent to his harem’s, and on the other jutted what must be a zeppelin dock, an addition to the original building. Even as Kat watched, the zeppelin’s gondola came to rest against the docking bay, something snapped, a door was thrown, and through the windows she saw the tall, stately form of Loqrin Mars pass into the airship.

  Then, as if they had practiced this maneuver countless times before and were not about to waste a moment, the zeppelin disengaged from the dock and drifted away. Kat caught a glimpse through the windows of Loqrin, in what must be the ship’s bridge, surrounded by strange machines, some spitting sparks, with misshapen hunched creatures that must be Returners all around him, and then the massive airship angled, not upward, but down.

  “What the hell?” Kat whispered the words, as if she might be overheard.

  The zeppelin moved downhill, nearly touching the roofs of the tenements that listed toward the Sink. Below she could still hear the hoots and howls of the ravening Returners, along with the occasional scream. Oblivious, or perhaps soaking in the pandemonium he’d sown, Loqrin drifted out over the Hollows, skimming the rooftops, still going lower and lower, until at last he hung over the very abyss of the Sink itself. The Sink was too far away for Kat to see well, and many buildings blocked her view, but she unmistakably saw the silver gleam of moonlight along the zeppelin’s back as it descended into the Sink like some monstrous whale vanishing into the deep.

  Then her strength gave out. She collapsed. It was all she could do to drag herself back to her rope and drop down into the harem apartment once more.

  Chapter 5

  With a gasp, she woke up in Loqrin’s harem. For a moment she struggled to orient herself, then took a deep breath and cursed. Bodies pressed tight against her, warm and naked. She was on the floor nestled up with the other harem pets, a richly woven blanket thrown over them. In front of her arced a young man’s narrow back. The boy breathed in and out, in and out, in what had to be a drugged stupor.

  Katya disengaged herself, threw back the blanket and stood. Dizziness overcame her, and she swayed. She needed something to eat.

  She was in one of the bedrooms. Various boys and girls lay under the sheets of the bed, sleeping deeply, while others stacked up on the floor, huddling for warmth. It puzzled her that there was no heater, no fireplace. It really was quite cold, and she shivered, wrapping her arms about herself.

  Gently she stepped over and around the sleepers. She was freezing, hungry, and needed a bath. As she made her way through the halls, she remembered the zeppelin and wondered what it could mean that Loqrin was descending into the Sink. Was it one of his mad whims, or did it have a purpose? Katya imagined the Below, dark and vast, with the ruins of great Elder buildings lining its cavern walls. She didn’t know what the Elders had been, no one did, not where they had come from or where they had gone to, only that they’d left their strange ruins and cities all across the world, sometimes perched along black abysses like the one below Lavorgna. What could Loqrin want down there?

  She came upon a utility room to find the honey-blond young woman standing before a great copper pot. The girl lit a burner beneath the pot, nodded to herself, and stepped back. When she saw Katya, she smiled tiredly and said, “Hi.”

  “Uh. Yeah,” Kat said. “What’s with the pot?”

  The girl blinked at her, as if she hadn’t been asked this question in a while and didn’t know how to answer it. At last she shrugged and said, “There’s no plumbing.”

  “What?”

  “Returners bring us buckets of water everyday. That’s where this batch came from.”

  Kat couldn’t believe it. “Fuckmunch! This is just great!” She slapped the wall. “But that doesn’t make any sense! This place is posh.” She looked around at the granite walls and gleaming brass corner pieces. Even the utility room was worth a fortune. She could strip it and live high hog for a good while.

  “Yeah, well, take it up with Loqrin,” the girl said. “He has plumbing. Maybe he’ll let you use his.”

  “But if he has plumbing, and we’re right next door, we should, too.”


  “You’d think so.”

  “So, what, how do you, like, go to the bathroom?”

  The girl brightened. “Why don’t I show you?” She checked the burner once more to make sure it was heating the water properly, then brushed past Katya and made down the hallway. Irritated, Kat followed. Morning sunlight streamed into the apartment from the sliding glass door of the balcony, making the brass railings and fixtures shine. Expensive wallpaper with floral patterns covered the walls that weren’t granite.

  “By the way, I’m Heather,” said the girl over her shoulder.

  “I’m Kat.”

  “How old are you, Kat?”

  “Twenty-two.”

  “You look sixteen. I’m twenty. Ah, this is it.”

  She turned into a room that must have been a super-nice lavatory at one point; Katya could tell by the long mirror along one wall with the fancy copper frame depicting beautiful women and fairies lounging and playing. At some point there had probably been a gleaming granite countertop and sink before the mirror—but there had probably been a floor then, too.

  “Balls for breakfast!” Kat said.

  She stared down into the gaping hole where the floor of the restroom had been. Now it was just a straight drop fifty or sixty feet down to the ground into a small mountain of what had to be shit, piss and garbage. Grass grew up its sides. Loqrin must have been making the dolls do this for years. Kat was glad she was too high up to be able to smell the stink.

  “I don’t believe it,” she said. “Loqrin turned an aristo bath into an outhouse!”

  “He does have his ticks,” Heather admitted.

  She walked into the bathroom, keeping to the floor that was still there. Teetering on the edge, she grabbed a handful of cables that hung from the ceiling—they must have been bolted there for this purpose—and squatted over the drop-off. Only her feet and her hold on the cables connected her to the bathroom. Her butt hung out over empty air. After mock-demonstrating (thank the gods it was only mock) how it was done, she straightened and pointed to a corner, where a pile of toilet paper rolls promised clean-up. “And if you’re finicky ...” She pointed to another corner where a basin of water stood. Crumbled soap bars crammed the tray.

  “Magnar fucked,” Katya said, staring down at the pile of refuse. Wind blew in, ruffling her hair, and bringing with it the faint hint of what lay below. She quickly pulled back. In horror, she stared at the other young woman.

  Heather looked at her sadly. “I’m sorry.”

  Katya wanted to snap at her, but she held herself back. It wasn’t Heather’s fault. “Why does Loqrin do this to you?”

  Kat twisted a finger through her long auburn hair. “I think he thinks it’s funny.”

  “It’s not.”

  “No,” Heather said. “Let’s check on the water.”

  They returned to the utility room. Mops and brooms propped up in the corners, along with an old, dried-up homunculi. Heather saw Kat looking at it and said, “That’s Freddy. He’s dead.”

  “Homuncs don’t die.”

  “Well, whatever. He’s been that way since I’ve been here. I think he used to help clean up the place, do the chores for the girls.”

  “I guess that was back when the old Boss used to rule here.”

  A strange look entered Heather’s eyes. “Yeah ...”

  Kat didn’t think much of it at the time. “How long have you been here?”

  Heather placed her hands over the water, probably checking to see if it was warm. Not satisfied, she turned up the flame.

  “Three years,” she said.

  “Damn.” Katya leaned against the wall. “Three years.”

  She looked Heather over. She was pretty. She had a round, angelic face, framed by curly auburn hair. She had a small, full mouth, straight, slightly upturned nose that lent her an impish quality, and the hint of freckles on her cheeks. Her eyes were large and hazel, and the lashes were long. She wore only a silken shift colored a pale pink and warm stockings engulfed her legs. They were striped a garish orange-and-green pattern. She had skinny legs, and Kat could see her ribs through her shift. Her complexion was bad. She’d been here for too long.

  Heather saw her scrutiny and said, “It’s okay. It’s almost over.”

  “How?”

  “Because I’m used-up, I guess. I don’t know. He keeps saying he’s going to kill me. Every week he says it. I think he’s let me live this long because I’ve become the den mother, taking care of the others. But the time is coming, I know it.”

  “Fuck that.”

  “You say that a lot. But that’s what he does. When he’s tired of us or whatever, he’ll take one of us out of here ... and we’ll never see that person again. Well ... almost never.”

  “Fuck,” Kat said again, unable to help herself.

  Heather seemed resigned to her fate, even looking forward to it. “It won’t be long now,” she said, seeming to draw strength from the words.

  “Why?”

  “Now he’s got you. You’re fresh and pretty, and since you’re new you’re sober enough that you can play den mother for awhile. Me, I’m not too sober, but compared with the others ...”

  “I didn’t realize—” Katya was horrified. If her playing spy cost Heather her life, Katya didn’t think she could live with herself.

  “Oh, it’s okay,” Heather assured her with that same strange blankness. “I want out. There’s been many times in the morning when I’m crouched over the poop-hole that I’ve thought about just letting go.”

  Kat didn’t say anything to that. She didn’t think such a suicide would be a very worthy death, but she could sure understand the temptation.

  “What does he do to you when, you know, he gets tired of you?”

  A dark look crossed Heather’s face. “Different things. Some I don’t know about. The one really scares me is him turning me into a Returner.”

  “He does that?”

  “Oh, yes. He loves playing with corpses. It’s his hobby. Well, I heard him say once that he didn’t like his girls and boys to get too old. When they did, he’d stop them aging for good.”

  “You really think he’d kill you and then bring you back?”

  For the first time, Heather really looked troubled. “He’s done it before. Of course, most of them turn out ... badly.”

  Kat remembered the Returners from the arches. “But sometimes he can bring them back okay?”

  Heather nodded. Tears built up in her eyes, then trickled down her cheeks. “It’s just the odds. Every hundred or so seem to come out all right.”

  “Hundred ... gods ...”

  “He brings ‘em in sometimes, the girls and boys that’ve Returned. Some I even knew before. Like Aryn. She was so pretty. But they’re not the same after. Even the successful ones. Only Dr. Reynalt can do that. It’s bad. Seeing their eyes, how blank they are ... remembering how they used to be.” She took a deep breath. “That’s what really scares me. That he might do that, bring me back. I’d be trapped in that rotted brain, forced to do what he wants ... forever.”

  Kat realized Heather was shaking. Hastily she went around the water pot and wrapped her arms around the girl. Heather trembled against her. A choking breath exploded from her lips, then another. Kat felt tears against her shoulder.

  “It’s okay, Heather. I won’t let him touch you.”

  “How?” Heather said. Her voice was thick with fear. “You can’t stop him! No one can stop him!”

  Kat let her cry awhile, and when Heather sank to the ground, Kat sank with her. At last the other girl calmed down, but when she wiped at her eyes, she still looked ashen and miserable.

  “Why don’t we escape?” Katya said.

  “How? And even if we did, he’d just hunt us down.” Heather laughed. Such a bitter sound should never come from such a girl, Kat thought. “And he would hunt us. Oh, yes. We’d be interesting then. And when he found us ...” Heather winced. “He likes to torture people, Kat. I’ve heard the screams,
even through the wall.”

  “What if there was some place we could go?”

  “There’s not. He owns the whole territory.”

  “Maybe we could go outside the territory. The Fifth Ward, maybe. There’s someone who could protect us there.”

  “Who? You’re crazy! Loqrin would get us back, and then ... and then ...”

  Kat stroked her cheek. She felt something well up inside her, and without thinking she said, “I’m a spy.”

  Heather looked at her. “What?”

  Kat hesitated, then said, “I’m here to bring Loqrin down. Ravic sent me. Boss of the Fifth Ward. Loqrin’s been hitting him, hitting him hard, and Loqrin’s up to some other strange shit, too. Ravic even thinks he could be tied up with the haunts.”

  Heather looked at her with wide eyes. “No way! You’re not a spy!”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “If he catches you ...”

  “What, he’ll imprison me and make me a sex slave?”

  Heather stared off into space, and Kat could see her gather her courage. Her face was white with fear, but hate and determination glimmered in her eyes. “What have I got to lose ... ?” Suddenly she turned to Kat, and her expression was imploring. “You’re not messing with me, are you?”

  Kat didn’t feel like smiling, but she gave Heather a big smile anyway. Her biggest. She could see it worked. Hope joined hate and determination in Heather’s face.

  “Fuck’s honest truth,” Kat said. “Rip out my tongue if I’m a liar.”

  Heather smiled a trembling, pathetic smile. “Really?”

  “I’ll take care of you,” Katya promised, thinking, Great. What have I done now?

  Loqrin burst in, surrounded by Returners. Each pushed a silver tray laden with food.

  It was late afternoon. The day had passed uneventfully. Katya had asked Heather how the dolls (Katya couldn’t stop thinking of them as such) bathed themselves, and Heather had fetched soap and sponges. Later she’d shown Katya to the kitchen. There was no water, but there was an electric ice-box with various leftovers, and they munched on these while the others woke up.