The Nekropolis Archives (78 page)

  I still had a few surprises left, thanks to Shrike and I reached into my right side pocket with my left hand – I still held my .45 with my right – and removed a small red-skinned lizard. Its eyes were closed and it appeared dead, though its body wasn't stiff and there was no sign of decay. I held the lizard out in front of me, pointed it headfirst at the oncoming tram, and gave its belly a gentle squeeze. The lizard woke in my hand, opened its mouth and released a thin stream of fire at the tram. My left hand still wasn't fully coordinated, thanks to Baron's sloppy reconnection of my brain to my central nervous system, and my aim was slightly off, but then I wasn't trying to hit the verman.

  The salamander's flame was nowhere near as powerful as that produced by Carnage's flamethrower, but it was enough to frighten the reanimated verman. The creature roared in fear and anger and turned the wheel to get away from the deadly fire. At the speed the tram was going, the sudden change in direction caused it to swerve. I tried to get out of the way, but I was too slow, and the tram clipped my leg. The impact spun me around and flung me to the ground. I watched the tram topple and slide on its side for a dozen feet before finally crashing into the tunnel wall and coming to a stop.

  I'd stopped squeezing the salamander when I fell, though I'd managed to hold on to it. Its flame extinguished, it fell back to sleep, and it would remain that way until I woke it again. Small salamanders like this one are used in Nekropolis the same way lighters are on Earth, and while they don't produce all that much flame, I'd counted on the intense fear Baron's creatures had of fire to make up for the salamander's feeble stream, and my gamble had paid off.

  I got to my feet and was relieved to find my leg wasn't broken – or at least not broken severely enough to keep me from walking. I limped toward the wrecked tram, intending to put a couple bullets in the reanimated verman's brain before he could extricate himself and resume trying to kill us. But Devona beat me to him. Moving with supernatural swiftness, she reached the tram in a blur of motion, knelt, grabbed hold of the verman's head and gave it a savage twist. The sound of snapping bone cut through the air and the verman's body fell limp. I knew the creature was dead (again), but I kept my .45 aimed at its head as I approached. In Nekropolis safe is always better than sorry. But the de-animated verman had the good grace to stay dead and Devona pulled his body free from the tram and left it lying next to the tunnel wall.

  Together we righted the tram and quick examination revealed that while the vehicle was banged up pretty good, it was still functional. We climbed in, pushed a button to turn on the engine, and – with me driving – we headed down the tunnel in the direction of Tenebrus. Given my problems with my left hand, I would've preferred Devona drive, but since she was reared in Gothtown, the daughter of a Darklord, she'd always had drivers to take her wherever she wanted, so she'd never learned to drive herself. Since I needed both hands to drive, and since Devona's 9mm was out of ammo, I handed her my .45 and we both kept a sharp lookout for other reanimated vermen, whether on trams or on foot, as we drove. We came across a couple wrecked trams and the mutilated bodies of regular vermen which we maneuvered around, but we saw no sign of the Victor Baron variety. Presumably they were off causing mayhem elsewhere in the Underwalk.

  "I'm not sure what your problem with Overkill was," I said after we'd been driving for a bit. "She did help us out."

  Devona's face scrunched into a truly impressive scowl at the mention of Overkill's name. "It's not her that I have a problem with. It's the way she was flirting with you."

  "Um… what?"

  "Don't play coy. The way she was acting, I'm surprised she didn't jump your bones right there in Carnage's front seat."

  I admit to not always being the fastest on the uptake when it comes to emotional stuff, but I really didn't believe Overkill was flirting with me. There might've been a certain amount of mutual appreciation of each other's skills going on, but flirting?

  "That's ridiculous," I said. "And even if it was true – and I don't think it is – it doesn't matter. You have absolutely no reason to be jealous of her."

  "And you don't have any reason to be jealous of Bogdan," Devona countered, "but that doesn't stop you from feeling that way, does it?"

  "Touché," I said, feeling more than a little embarrassed. I decided to change the subject. "How are you doing after…" I struggled to find a way to express what I was trying to say. "Being trapped in Orlock's dome," I finally said. It didn't come close to communicating everything I wanted to say, but it was the best I could do.

  "I'm managing," Devona said. She gave me a weak smile. "It helps that we're busy fighting to save the city again."

  I smiled back. "Yeah, life-and-death battles have a wonderful way of distracting one from personal problems."

  Her smile fell away. "How about you? How are you doing?"

  "Coping," I said. "Even though I know it was all an illusion, it felt so real. You know?"

  "Yes."

  She put her hand on my leg and squeezed once and that was the last we spoke until we drew near the section of the Underwalk where I'd escaped from Tenebrus. I'd paid close attention at the time, so even though there were no markers of any sort to indicate our location, I was fairly confident we were in the right spot. But I knew it for certain when I saw Gnasher running down the tunnel toward us, his red albino eyes wide with terror. An instant later I saw why. The silvery shape of an Overwatcher glided through the air behind him, the skull faced creature moving with silent, menacing grace, like some manner of airborne shark. The Overwatcher's eye sockets began to glow a bright crimson and I knew the reanimated brain inside – driven insane by Osseal's song – was powering up its optic energy blasters to take out Gnasher.

  Devona and I exchanged glances and in that same instant we telepathically came up with a plan. I worked the tram's throttle and the engine whined as the vehicle picked up speed.

  "Gnasher, your dire blade!" I shouted. "Throw it straight up into the air!"

  The verman had no idea what we were planning, but his people were quick witted and had even swifter reflexes. In a single smooth motion he drew the dire blade, the same one I'd slain Lycanthropus Rex with, and tossed it into the air. Devona dropped the .45 onto the floor of the tram then sprang out of her seat, adding the power of her half-vampire legs to the vehicle's forward momentum. As she sailed through the air, hands outstretched, I swerved the tram to avoid hitting Gnasher and gripped the wheel with my right hand which reaching out to the verman with my left. Gnasher reached back for me and I snagged his hand, swung him into the tram and he scurried into the back seat. At the same instant Devona's fingers wrapped around the dire blade's hilt and momentum carried her straight for the Overwatcher. She landed on the creature's smooth metal back right behind its skull, straddling it backward. Petite though she is, the sudden addition of her weight caused the Overwatcher to dip slightly, and when it unleashed its eye beams, the twin bolts of ruby energy missed Gnasher and me, striking the tunnel floor and melting a section of the organic looking substance.

  The tunnel shuddered then and a low tone reverberated through the air, almost like a moan. I thought of the organic nature of so much of Nekropolis – the Underwalk, Tenebrus, much of the strange architecture in the Sprawl – and for the first time since I'd come to the city, I found myself wondering if the Darkfolk hadn't constructed their other-dimensional home so much as grown it. Was Nekropolis itself in some bizarre fashion alive?

  As disturbing as the thought was I thankfully didn't have time to pursue it. I watched as Devona turned at the waist and slammed the dire blade into the Overwatcher's silver skull. Dire blades aren't just supernaturally deadly, they're supernaturally sharp as well. With Devona's strength to power it the blade easily pierced the Overwatcher's metallic hide and sank into the soft brain beneath. The effect was immediate. The crimson light in the Overwatcher's eye sockets winked out and the creature crashed to the tunnel floor. Devona managed to jump free in time, though she had to leave the dire blade embedded in the Overwatcher's skull. She landed with a fluid grace that I found incredibly sexy. I slowed down, intending to stop and pick her up, and she started running toward the downed Overwatcher in order to retrieve the dire blade, but Gnasher shouted, "Leave it! Those things are designed to explode once they're brought down!"

  I gave the tram full power and it picked up speed again. Devona sprinted down the tunnel after us and managed to leap aboard just as the Overwatcher vanished in a burst of light and fire. I felt the pressure of the blast roll over us, though I didn't feel the heat. I turned back to look at Gnasher and Devona, and while both of them were a little singed around the edges, I knew they'd survive.

  "Another of Keket's nasty little surprises," Gnasher said. "Any inmate who brings down an Overwatcher risks being destroyed."

  "Always thinking, that woman," I said.

  Devona climbed back into the front passenger seat and picked the .45 up off the floor where she'd left it.

  "Nicely done, my love," I said.

  "Why thank you, sir." She then grimaced and arched her back. "Though I think I might've pulled a muscle on that one."

  "I have no idea what the two of you are doing here," Gnasher said, "but I am exceptionally glad to see you. It's total chaos inside Tenebrus." He paused. "Well. It's always chaos in there, but it's even worse now. Something's happened to the Overwatchers. They went mad and began firing energy blasts at everyone, including the guards. Keket herself came down into the general population to stop them, and the prisoners saw that as their chance to get revenge on her for using them as entertainment. They attacked her en masse, and even though she's a Demilord, between the Overwatchers and the prisoners, she was having a hard time of it. I decided it might be prudent of me to take my leave until the current situation sorts itself out, but one of the Overwatchers followed me into the Underwalk. If you hadn't arrived when you did…" The verman shuddered as he trailed off.

  "Our pleasure," I said. "And since we saved your snowy white hide, you owe us one. And your people always pay their debts."

  Gnasher's eyes narrowed. "What do you want?"

  "Not much," I said. "Just directions to the Foundry."

Gnasher guided us to a Dominari owned building in the Boneyard – a falling-down ruin not far from the Foundry. Before saying goodbye to us, he asked, "Are you going to try to stop whatever's happening?"

  "That's the idea," I said.

  He nodded. "Good. Too much death and destruction is bad for business."

  I considered asking him how much was good, but instead Devona and I thanked him for his help, climbed the ladder, and emerged aboveground in what was left of a stone building whose original purpose I could only guess at.

  "Why would the Dominari have entrances to the Underwalk in the Boneyard?" Devona asked. "It's not like there's a lot of profit to be made here."

  I shrugged. "Who knows? Even the dead have needs. Maybe the Dominari figured out ways to meet them."

  We moved cautiously out of the ruined building and into the street. The normally sparse traffic was nonexistent. The living had managed to get off the streets by now, and as for the dead… well, there was no sign of them, neither motorists nor pedestrians. It appeared that Devona and I had the street to ourselves.

  We talked softly as we made our way to the Foundry, me limping on my injured leg but moving well enough not to slow us down too much.

  "Where is everyone?" Devona asked.

  "I don't know. I'm usually sensitive to the presence of other dead beings, but I don't sense any close by. It's almost like they're hiding… waiting for the trouble to blow over."

  "Maybe they sense Osseal's power, and it scares them," Devona said. "Even if it's only being used to control Baron's creations."

  "Maybe." That theory was better than anything I could come up with.

  "Now that we're closer to the Foundry, can you feel Osseal's magic?"

  I shook my head. "I don't feel a thing. Maybe it's because of Papa's spell blocking necklace, or maybe it's because Osseal is only being focused on Baron's monsters. Either way, I'm not sensing anything."

  "Good," she said. "Now that we've made it this far, the last thing we need is for you to fall under the flute's power."

  "That would well and truly suck, wouldn't it?"

  We continued on in silence for several more minutes until we could see the Foundry up ahead. It looked the same as always – tower lattice crackling with electricity, smokestacks belching black into the sky, the heavy thrum of power filling the air. But as we got closer, we saw there was one thing new: behind the main gate stood several dozen of Baron's creatures. I recognized some of them from our last visit, but most of them were unknown to me. I had no doubt they were all equally dangerous, though.

  Devona and stepped across the street and regarded the assembled monsters. Unlike the creatures we'd seen rampaging on the streets of the Sprawl, these displayed no sign of aggression whatsoever. They made no move to open the gate and attack us. In fact, they didn't react to our presence in any way.

  "It's almost as if they've been waiting for us," Devona said.

  "Waiting for
someone
. Baron's not the kind of man to leave anything to chance. He figured someone would realize he was behind the rioting and he commanded his monsters to guard the main gate in case someone showed up to try and stop him."

  "Someone like us," Devona said.

  "Yep."

  We looked at Baron's monsters some more. Somehow they seemed ever larger and more intimidating than they had a few moments ago.

  "We're not going to be able to fight our way inside," Devona said.

  She'd returned my .45 to me when we'd stopped the tram, but it only had so many bullets left, and they weren't going to be enough. Same for the magic items we had left. None of them were particularly powerful, and with the exception of the salamander, I didn't see how they'd be of much use. And the salamander, small as it was, couldn't produce a strong enough flame to frighten all of the monsters gathered at Baron's gate.