Black coils of Gregor-stuff wrapped around my neck, ankles, and the wrist of the hand that remained attached to my body. I didn't struggle. I could feel myself coming apart at the seams, and I knew if I resisted the tentacles' embrace too strongly, I'd collapse into a heap of useless body parts. Devona was caught in a nest of tentacles that hung down from the ceiling, and though she thrashed to free herself, even tried to bite through the tentacles with her fangs, she was unable to make a dent in the gooey shadowy substance that held her.
I still held my 9mm, but I knew mere bullets wouldn't kill Gregor. They wouldn't even slow him down.
"You haven't stopped me, you know," Gregor said. He spoke calmly, or rather like someone who was working very hard to sound calm. "I might not be able to shift Nekropolis to another dimension now, but I still have the power of Talaith stored in Victor Baron's lightning rod. Perhaps I'll use it to destroy Ulterion and deprive the Darkfolk of their magic. Or better yet, I'll use it to put the moon into motion and crash it into Umbriel. Without the Shadowsun, Nekropolis won't be able to survive in my dimension. And even if those plans fail, what does it matter? I'll just keep on trying until I do succeed! Nothing will stop me! Nothing!"
"You're wrong," I said.
Gregor scuttled over to me so rapidly that it seemed he teleported across the distance. Alarmed, Shamika assumed an insectile form like his and started toward him, obviously intending to protect me, but I shook my head. She stopped, hesitated a moment, and then returned to her human form.
Gregor leaned in close until his giant roach face was only inches from mine.
"What do you mean?" he asked softly.
"You can't succeed for one simple reason," I said. "You've already lost. You told us that after you teleported Devona here, you released her from her trance because you saw no need to keep her in it. But then you said you found it, and I quote, 'oddly gratifying' to have someone watch as you put your plan into action. You hate Otherness, Gregor. So why would you enjoy having someone else here with you while you worked?"
Gregor's gem-like eyes were impossible to read, so I went on.
"And what about my hand?" I said.
Gregor cocked his head, puzzled. "What about it?"
"My severed hand, the one you accidentally teleported along with Devona. Once it got here, it hid itself until you were distracted, and then Devona was able to use it to send me a message."
"So?"
I said, "So how was that possible? And I don't mean the animated severed-hand part. I admit that's weird, but I know I can exert some control over my body parts once they've been separated from me, and I guess they have a life of their own, at least in some small ways. What I'm talking about is how could anything take place inside this dome without your knowledge? This place is made from your body, right? It is you. So how could you not be aware my severed hand was skulking about?"
Gregor didn't say anything at first, but he shifted his weight back and forth several times, as if he were agitated and trying not to show it.
"I've been rather busy, you know." He sounded more than a little defensive. "You can't possibly imagine the magical and technological complexity of dimensional transference. The concentration required to get all the calculations just right…" He trailed off, sounding unconvinced by his own words.
"You're a group mind, Gregor," I reminded him. "You've got more mental capacity than all the Darkfolk combined. And yet you failed to notice my hand. Why?"
Gregor had no answer for that, so I answered for him.
"It's because your mind isn't clear. You're not thinking straight. I mean, why did you bother explaining your plan once Shamika and I got here? Why did you answer all the questions I asked you? I'll tell you why: because you wanted us to appreciate how smart you are. You've spent so much time observing Others, Gregor, that you've changed. Maybe you haven't changed as much as Shamika, but like her, you've become infected by Otherness. You've begun to appreciate it, to need it. And because of that, your emotions are beginning to override your intellect, interfering with it and clouding your thinking. And there's no going back to the way you were. Even if you got rid of the Darkfolk, even if you somehow managed to get rid of Shamika, some part of you would still long for Otherness. You wouldn't just be alone. You'd be lonely. Forever."
Gregor continued to stare at me with his black gem-like eyes for a long time. But eventually he turned away, and when he did, the tentacles that were holding onto Devona and me released us and slithered back into the walls and floor. Gregor walked several feet away, sat down heavily, and hung his head. Shamika looked at him for a moment before going over and sitting down next to him. She then put an arm around her brother and leaned against his ebon carapace. Then, as we watched, their two forms merged into one large amorphous black mass. The mass reformed, shrinking as it did so, until it became Shamika. Only this version of Shamika had Gregor's black gem-like eyes.
She smiled. "We're One again."
Devona came over to me then and put her arms around me. I only had one arm at that moment – the other lay on the floor where Gregor's tentacle had tossed it – but I wrapped it around her and hugged her as tight as I could.
A moment later there was a shimmering in the air next to the circle of magic-users, all of whom were just beginning to stir from their trance. Darius materialized and gazed down upon his dead body.
"I thought I felt someone shoot me," he said.
NINETEEN
I watched myself walk down the street, a black silhouette melting into the darkness around me.
And so it goes. Another case ended, and another waiting for me somewhere up the road. And though I was victorious, I felt nothing, for what had I really accomplished in the end? Sure, I'd tilted at a few windmills and saw to it that some very bad people got what was coming to them. But no matter how many cases I solve, no matter how many wrongs I right, at the end of the day I'm still a dead man playing at being alive – and that's all I'll ever be.
I'm Matt Richter, zombie PI. And my story continues… though sometimes I wish it didn't.
The Mind's Eye screen went blank, the orb closed its lid, and Devona clapped.
"I thought that was pretty good," she said.
I leaned back on the couch, looked up at the ceiling, and sighed. "I can't believe Varney finished that stupid film. This has to be the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to me."
Devona scooted closer and put her arms around me. "More embarrassing than the time you accidentally switched bodies with Esperanza the Six-Breasted Stripper in the middle of one of her performances?"
"Much," I said. "I just pray Varney's producer doesn't get it in his head to do a sequel."
Once Devona learned who Varney really was, Galm ordered him to return to his job as a cameraman since his cover was blown and he could no longer guard Devona in secret. Devona hadn't been thrilled with the fact that her father had assigned a babysitter to watch over her, but she'd been impressed with Varney's skills and was considering asking him to leave Galm's employ and come to work for her at the Midnight Watch. One thing about my love: she doesn't hold a grudge, at least not where business is concerned. She still, however, wasn't happy that we'd had to return the holy objects the Hidden Light had loaned us. As powerful as the objects were, we could've made good use of them in our work, but I'd promised Maggie I'd return them, and a deal is a deal. Besides, I needed to stay on the Hidden Light's good side. Where else in this town am I going to get holy water and silver bullets? Plus, I can use all the good karma I can get.