A middle-aged harpy grabbed hold of my left arm with one of her foot claws and held tight to me, while she attempted to explain in tearful detail how awful the vision of Earth had been. I made a few placating noises and tried to pull away, but her grip was so strong that I was afraid I'd tear my arm off if I pulled too hard. My vox rang then, and I told the harpy that I needed to take the call as it might be important information relating to the case. She let me go, and I answered my vox as Devona, Shamika, Varney, and I continued to push our way through the crowd.
"Matt? It's Tavi."
From the sound of his gruff voice and the rapid way he spoke, I knew he was still in his wildform, and I asked him to speak more slowly. Which he did, if only a little.
"I've been having a devil of a time following Papa Chatha's scent trail. It zigzags all over the Sprawl, and I've been tracking it for hours. I almost lost it when that weird distortion hit, whatever that was. I didn't just see a phantom city – I smelled it, too. Anyway, once the ghost city vanished, I picked up the scent trail again and followed it to the Grotesquerie. That's where I am right now. The trail dead-ends here, Matt. I've had a quick look around, and I can't put my finger on it, but something doesn't feel right here.
I-"
Tavi's voice was cut off by a loud roar, which was immediately followed by an agonized scream, and then silence.
"Tavi!" I shouted into the vox. "TAVI!"
No response. The line was dead, and I hoped the same couldn't be said for Tavi.
"What's wrong?" Devona said.
I started to tell her, but before I could get more than a couple words out, the crowd around us shrieked and moved rapidly away as Lazlo's cab raced toward us.
I smiled grimly. It's good to have friends you can depend on, even when they look like mutated tarantula-bats. The cab's new tires screeched as the vehicle swerved to a stop in front of us.
Lazlo stuck his head out the window and favored us with a toothy grin.
"Going my way?"
The Grotesquerie is located on Sybarite Street, not far from the House of Mysterious Secrets. It covers several square miles and is surrounded by a hundred-foot-high wall made of a polished black substance that looks like solidified shadow, atop which sits a complex array of metal and crystal that continuously glows with a gentle, pulsing red light. The force field the wall generates is invisible to the naked eye, but it encloses the Grotesquerie in an unimaginably powerful energy dome that's a synthesis of the highest of high-tech science and the most potent of ancient magics – all in order to keep what the Grotesquerie houses from getting out. But this wasn't a prison. Nekropolis' prison is called Tenebrus, and it's located underground beneath the Nightspire, and I'd once had the dubious pleasure of being a guest there for a short time. What the Grotesquerie holds is far more dangerous and terrifying than anything a mere prison might contain, for the Grotesquerie is a zoo. But not just any zoo – it's a Darkfolk zoo.
When the Darkfolk decided to emigrate from Earth, they gathered up every wild monster they could find, like a twisted version of Noah and the Ark, and brought them along to live in the Grotesquerie. But new ones occasionally surface, due to natural or unnatural evolution or scientific experiments gone hideously wrong, and the Grotesquerie's hunters make periodic expeditions to Earth to search out these monsters and bring em back alive, as the saying goes. They do it for the sake of preservation – many of the Grotesquerie's monsters are rare species or literally one of a kind – but a side benefit is that humans don't have worry about getting stomped on by gigantic radioactive lizards, so it's a win-win all the way around.
Lazlo dropped us off at the main entrance, and brilliant detective that I am, I immediately suspected something was wrong when I saw all the people running screaming into the street. I turned to Devona and almost asked her to stay outside and watch Shamika, but given how the girl had handled herself with Magilla, I figured she was probably be in less danger going in than I was.
The three of us pushed through the mass of fleeing zoogoers, Varney right there alongside us. With his camera-eye inoperative he should've had no reason to follow us into what was undoubtedly a hazardous situation, but I wasn't surprised that he'd decided to accompany us. He might've been a reporter, but it had become clear to me that he had a hidden agenda for sticking so closely to us, and right then wasn't the time to try and figure out what it was. There'd be an opportunity to question him later – assuming the four of us survived our visit to the Grotesquerie.
Once we made it past the crowd and through the main gate, we moved off to the side to get out of the way, but we needn't have bothered. The majority of the Grotesquerie's visitors had managed to make it out, and only a handful of stragglers remained.
Inside, the Grotesquerie resembles an Earth zoo, with paved walkways winding between habitats set up for the creatures on display. The major difference is the landscaping. Instead of the pleasant trees and shrubs of an Earthly zoo, the Grotesquerie's paths are lined with deadly leech vine, tanglethorn, and rotweed. Visitors are always careful to give the plants a wide berth, and the plants usually leave them alone. But then they weren't put there to attack visitors. They were an additional deterrent should any of the Grotesquerie's attractions manage to escape their enclosures.
Huge Frankenstein monsters were employed as keepers, and a half dozen of them clomped past us in their gray coveralls and overlarge work boots, each of them clutching long metallic rods with glowing red tips at one end. The keepers' expressions were grim, but since Frankenstein monsters aren't known for their cheerful, sunny dispositions, it was hard to tell if they were upset over whatever was happening or if it was just another day on the job for them. Given the panicking visitors fleeing for their lives, I opted for the former. Told you I was a brilliant detective.
"Follow the keepers!" I said, and we did so, setting off at a run.
Given my undead state, I'm not that well coordinated at the best of times, even if I've just had a fresh application of preservative spells. But considering that I was currently a jigsaw puzzle of a zombie holding himself together through sheer concentration, I was even less coordinated than usual. With every galumphing shuffle-step I took, I felt my body literally threatening to come apart at the seams, and it took an extra effort of will to keep myself intact.
We followed the keepers past several enclosures, and though it had been a while since my last visit to the Grotesquerie, I remembered the creatures we passed welclass="underline" the Beast with a Million Eyes, the Killer Shrews, the Monster That Challenged the World, the Crawling Eye, Q the Winged Serpent, and my personal favorite, the original Hound of the Baskervilles. Each of their enclosures had been specially designed to contain the beasts, using a combination of high-tech science, powerful sorcery, and good old-fashioned titanium steel. And if by some impossibly remote chance any of them somehow escaped, the Grotesquerie's deadly flora would stop them – or at least slow them down long enough for visitors to flee for the exit. The creatures glared, snarled, snapped, roared, and raged at us as we ran by their cages, but that was all they could do, and we were damned thankful for it.