“You’ll do nothing. It’s a pity you won’t join us, but that is your decision. You were foolish to come here alone, Matthew. We destroyed your body once, and we shall do so again-and this time there is no one to restore you. And don’t think your flashlight will protect you. While we are creatures of this dark dimension and light does hurt us, there are far too many of us for your feeble beam to kill.”
“I don’t intend to use my flashlight. And you’re wrong, Gregor. I didn’t come alone.” I clicked off the light and was plunged into darkness.
No insects swarmed over me as in the Nightspire. Instead, there was a rushing, moaning sound that made me think of a cold winter wind blowing across a bloodsoaked battlefield. And then I heard the screaming of thousands upon thousands of tiny voices, the same as when I had shone the Dawnstone into the Sentinel’s chest cavity, only multiplied to the nth degree.
And then there was silence. I waited a few moments more, and then I turned the flashlight back on. Its beam revealed Father Dis, standing alone in the now empty basement.
“Are they all gone?” I asked. I was grateful my flashlight had been turned off. I had no idea how Dis had destroyed the insects, and from the horrible sounds they had made while dying, I was certain I wanted to remain ignorant.
“All that were present at this location. I fear many more remain within the city, however, and even if none do, there are uncountable millions more outside Phlegethon’s boundaries. I seriously doubt we’ve heard the last of the Watchers.” He sighed. “I was of course aware of them when I led my people to this dimension, but I thought them some sort of native animal life. I never realized they were intelligent. If I had…well, it’s too late now, isn’t it?”
“Can’t you do something? Like wave your hand in a godly gesture of omnipotence and smite them?”
Dis smiled. “As I told you when I restored you, there are limits to even my powers. The vast majority of my strength is used to maintain Umbriel and Phlegethon. The Darklords help, of course, but far less than even they imagine. Still, there’s no use in letting them know that; everyone likes to feel they’re important, don’t they?”
“So you were telling the truth when you said you couldn’t make me alive again?”
Dis nodded. “Though I was able to see to it that you are in no danger of inevitably decomposing again, provided of course you keep up regular applications of preservative spells. Barring accidents, you might very well exist forever.”
Forever. The word had no meaning to me now. I wondered if it ever would. I figured I’d find out.
I showed Dis the underside of my hand. “My little finger grew back when you restored me, but I still have Edrigu’s mark.”
“Edrigu had a previous claim on you which I can do nothing about. Be careful what deals you make in Nekropolis, Matthew. They are always binding.”
“I figured you’d say something like that. One more thing: back at the Nightspire, that mural in the corridor…”
“Yes?”
“The first scene depicted shadow creatures emerging from a swamp. Those things were the beginning of the Darkfolk, weren’t they?”
“The Shadowings,” Dis said. “There were indeed the progenitors of all of my kind that would follow. That was our only form for millions of years until humans began to evolve. Their dreams changed us, molded us, until we became dark reflections of their worst fears. Creatures that drank blood, changed into animals, worked black magic, and survived beyond death-all because humans imagined it so.” Dis smiled. “So you see, Matthew, the Darkfolk really are your people’s nightmares.” But his smile quickly faded. “But the humans outgrew us, came to hate us and desire our destruction. Perhaps because we reminded them of the darkest parts of themselves.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But eating them might’ve had something to do with it too.”
A hint of Dis’s smile returned. “Possibly.”
“When you and I first met, you allowed me to glimpse the true darkness that lies behind Father Dis. That darkness is what you really are, isn’t it? You’re one of the first Darkfolk-a Shadowing. One that’s never changed for all these millions of years, not deep down where it really matters.”
Dis didn’t respond right away, and I thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then he said. “It’s why the Darkfolk call me Father, you know. I didn’t literally sire them, of course, but my kind gave rise to theirs.”
“That’s why you wanted to create Nekropolis, wasn’t it?” I said. “Because it’s a father’s duty to look after his children, to make sure they have a safe place to live.”
Dis smiled fully once more, showing his perfect movie star teeth, but I knew that what I was really looking at was only a mask, a disguise for something so old, so utterly inhuman, that there was no way I could ever hope to understand it.
“You know, Matthew, you’re really quite good at figuring things out. Have you ever considered becoming a detective?”
He laughed, and with that Dis began to fade, like the Cheshire Cat in a purple toga, until he was gone, not even leaving behind so much as a smile.
I picked my way though the rubble above what had been Gregor’s lair, and walked down the steps to the broken sidewalk. Dis had brought me here after restoring my undead body so we could take care of Gregor before he abandoned his hidey hole, but for whatever reasons, the Lord of Nekropolis hadn’t seen fit to provide me with a lift home. Not that I was ungratefuclass="underline" Dis had already done plenty for me. Still, it was rude to leave a guy stranded-especially when said guy had just saved the whole goddamned city.
I started walking. But I hadn’t gotten more than a block away from Gregor’s when I heard what sounded like a water buffalo moaning in extreme pain coming up behind me, followed by a blat like a strangling trumpeter swan.
I turned and saw a hideous conglomeration of metal barreling down the street toward me. The thing screeched to a stop, and Lazlo hung out the window.
“Sorry it took me so long, Matt, but I had a little trouble getting the old cab running. I ended up having to cobble together a new one from what I could scrounge up in the junkyard-with a technical assist from the folks at the Foundry. I think it turned out pretty good overall, don’t you?”
I walked over to the bent and twisted thing that coughed and shuddered alongside the curb. Not only was it patched together from different pieces of metal, but from swatches of living flesh as well. The hood opened a crack, displaying rows of teeth-some of which were now made out of iron-and I had the impression that the cab was smiling at me.
“This…is a car?”
Lazlo guffawed. “You really kill me sometimes, Matt, you know that?” He shook his head. “’ This is…a car? ’ That’s rich! Come on, hop in!”
I climbed into the passenger seat-once I figured out how to get the door open-and Lazlo said, “Where to, pal?”
“Demon’s Roost,” I answered.
TWENTY-FIVE
I found Devona standing alone in front of Varvara’s bedroom mirror, looking at the image of a park at nighttime. Fluorescent lights glowed, attracting small clouds of insects, and even with the competition from the lights of the buildings downtown, the stars remained visible in the dark-blue sky.
I looked around, but Varvara was nowhere to be seen, and neither was the unconscious playmate Victor Baron had made for her. Maybe the Demon Queen was being uncharacteristically considerate and decided that Devona and I needed some time alone together. Then again, maybe Varvara had taken Magnus back to the Foundry for some repair work. Whatever the case, I was glad for the chance to be alone with Devona.
“Those are real stars, aren’t they?” Devona asked without taking her eyes off the scene in the mirror. “They look different from the illusion in the Wyldwood. Crisper, brighter.”
“Yes, they do.”
“You know, I’ve never really experienced night before. I thought I had, living in Nekropolis, but what we have here isn’t true night, is it? More like a perpetual gray. Real night seems more peaceful…soothing. And, even though everything is still, it possesses an energy all its own.”