Devona was an attractive petite blonde who looked to be in her late twenties but was actually closer to eighty. The half-vampire blood flowing through her veins that gave her supernatural strength had the side benefit of keeping her looking young. When working, she usually wears a skintight black leather outfit which is something of a fetishist's dream – and which I appreciate looking at quite a bit. Hey, I may be dead, but I'm not that dead. Devona's outfit was a bit snug around her belly, but since she was only a few months along in her pregnancy, she could still fit into her gear, though I doubted she'd be able to for much longer.
Unlike Devona, my supernatural state of non-life doesn't do much for my appearance. I still look like I'm in my late thirties – and always will, I suppose – but unless I've had a recent application of preservative spells courtesy of Papa Chatha, my local houngan, my skin tends to be grayish green and flaky around the edges. Basically, I often look – and unfortunately smell – like something that's been left to mold in the refrigerator too long. This day I was halfway through the cycle of my current round of preservative spells, so while my flesh was a bit discolored and I smelled like trash that needed to be taken out, all things considered I wasn't too bad. When I was alive and living on Earth (in Cleveland, to be precise), I'd worked as a homicide detective, and I still dressed like I had then: white shirt, gray suit, black shoes, and tie. I tended to wear ties with cartoon characters on them – Looney Tunes are a particular favorite – and today I was sporting my Tasmanian Devil tie.
We needed to get across the street and enter the House of Dark Delights, and before we'd left our dimension, we'd worked out a plan for accomplishing this. The only problem was we hadn't realized just how many of the rampaging Hydes would be in our way. I was starting to regret my earlier comment about being glad Darius had brought only Devona and me. From the looks of things, we could've used some backup. Overkill would've come in handy right then, or maybe the Crimson Shadow. But the three of us would have to do.
I turned to Devona and started to speak, but I stopped myself before the first word came out. As a zombie, I'm not exactly the fastest creature in the supernatural kingdom. Even a normal living human is faster than I am. Devona can move far more swiftly than me – not to mention how much stronger she is – and when it came to carrying out an attack, it only made sense for her to take the lead. I wasn't sexist. As a cop, I'd worked with plenty of women who were just as good if not better at their jobs than men were, and Devona and I had worked enough cases together for me to fully respect her capabilities. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't put aside the fact that Devona was pregnant. It should've been impossible. After all, she's a half-vampire and I'm dead – meaning than I'm not functional in certain key biological areas, if you catch my drift. But not long ago, I'd helped recover a stolen artifact for Edrigu, the Darklord who rules the Dead, and he'd rewarded me with a magical coin that could grant me one day, and one day only, of mortal life again.
Once it became possible for Devona and me to have children, we discussed whether we wanted to. Devona was more than eager, me less so. After all, Nekropolis can be an insanely dangerous place – not exactly the best environment for raising children. But in the end I agreed and used the coin, and afterward, I was able to, er, get back in the game, so to speak. But things rarely go smoothly in Nekropolis. There were complications and we almost missed our opportunity, but that, as they say, is a story for another time. In the end, we managed to accomplish our goal and – with a bit of help from a fertility spell provided by Papa Chatha – Devona had conceived. So while I'm certain I'd have been hesitant for Devona to spring into action even if her pregnancy had been a normal one, the fact that it was literally a once-in-alifetime event made me even more reluctant to see her rush into a street full of homicidal monsters.
She recognized my hesitation for what it was, and she reached out to squeeze my arm in a familiar gesture of reassurance. I can't feel touch, but I can feel pressure, so she always makes sure to squeeze hard.
"Don't worry, Matt. I'll be OK." Her tone was confident, but I could see a trace of worry in her eyes, and I knew she was having similar thoughts, even if she'd never admit to it. But she didn't have to. Our telepathic link told me the truth.
I told myself that she was a fully capable adult who'd proven on numerous occasions that she could handle herself in dangerous situations. And we'd known this was going to be a risky mission when we'd agreed to accompany Darius. Still, it's not an easy thing to see the woman you love walk into battle – especially when she's carrying your child.
I was about to lie and tell her I knew she was going to be OK, when a rustling noise sounded behind us in the alley. The three of us turned to look and saw a hulking female Hyde like those rioting out in the street. The same bestial aspect and mismatched limbs, the same madness gleaming in her eyes, but there was one important difference: this creature had no skin.
"What do we have here?" she said in a guttural voice. Her red wet facial muscles pulled her mouth into a leering smile, the better to display her mouthful of sharp, jagged teeth. "You three need to join the party."
She leaned forward and I thought at first she was going to attack us, but instead she opened her mouth wide and breathed on us. Devona and Darius immediately started gagging, and I knew that the Hyde's breath must've been truly horrendous. Fortunately, the stench had no effect on me. Sometimes there are advantages to being dead, such as no functioning sense of smell.
The Hyde straightened and watched us for a moment, almost as if she were waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, she scowled.
"What's wrong? Why haven't you changed?"
"Well, Glassine, I'm a zombie, so I only breathe in order to take in enough air to speak. Since no air exchange occurs within my lungs, I can't be infected by the plague you're carrying. And as for my companions, they were each inoculated against your disease before we left home."
Glassine's scowl deepened. "How do you know my name?"
"We have a Glassine back where I come from. Her ancestor was a scientist who invented a formula for invisibility. Unfortunately, when she tried to use the formula on herself, it only made her skin transparent. Looks like the same thing happened to you in this dimension too."
Glassine leaned forward, her eyes narrowing as she got a better look at me.
"Do I know you?"
"One of me, maybe."
I reached inside one of jacket pockets and brought out a gun. It wasn't my 9mm – I carry that on a shoulder holster hidden by my jacket – and it wasn't my squirt gun, which I keep filled with a combination of holy water, garlic juice, liquid wolfsbane, and a few other special ingredients. This was a gleaming chrome device that looked more like a piece of medical equipment than a weapon. Fortunately for me, it was both. I squeezed the trigger and a burst of yellow gas struck Glassine in the face. She pulled back, coughing.
"What – the hell – was that?" she demanded between coughs.
"A cure for what ails you," I said.
Glassine's coughing gave way to harsh gagging, and she clawed at her throat, desperate to catch a breath. Her eyes bulged wildly, and for an instant I feared that the chemical I'd dosed her with had poisoned her – perhaps due to some unanticipated physiological differences between denizens of this Nekropolis and mine – but a moment later her breathing eased and a transformation began to sweep over her body. Her skin remained transparent, which was a natural state for her, but her body became symmetrical again – arms and legs properly proportioned and the same length – her claws became fingernails, and her teeth receded into her gums, becoming less sharp. Her wild tangle of hair smoothed out, her pronounced brow became less so, and best of all, the feral gleam in her eyes faded, to be replaced by confusion.