"Let me guess: you had a flying accident," I said.
He grinned. "What else?"
Ichorus lived to violate the "no-flying" law in Nekropolis, which was why he carried so many scars. The Darklords defended their Dominions' airspace quite aggressively, and the fact that Ichorus' vampiric healing abilities hadn't been able to completely deal with all the injuries he'd received during his illegal flights was testament to how serious the Darklords were about the sanctity of their airspace.
"Still trying to see how close you can come to the Darklords' strongholds without getting killed?" I asked. "Or were you flying low over Phlegethon and dodging the Lesk again?"
"Neither," Ichorus said. "I have a new passion these days. I've been searching for Ulterion."
"Seriously? Don't tell me you fell for that fairy tale!"
Devona frowned. "What's Ulterion?"
Devona had lived most of her life sheltered in the Cathedral, rarely venturing outside its walls. Because of this, there were lots of things she didn't know about Nekropolis, things that I – a relative newcomer – often had to fill her in about.
"The moon," I said. "Umbriel is the Shadowsun, and Ulterion is the Hidden Moon." I glanced sideways at Ichorus. "Or so the stories go. I don't know anyone who takes them seriously."
Ichorus grinned again. "You do now! I've been looking for Ulterion for the last couple weeks, flying as high as I can, testing the upper limits of the city's atmosphere. I figure Ulterion has to be within Nekropolis' atmospheric bubble. After all, Umbriel is."
"Why would we need a moon?" Devona asked. "Umbriel provides the power that keeps the city stabilized in this dimension, as well as providing the energy for Phlegethon. What would Ulterion do?"
"That's the mystery," Ichorus said. "When I find it, I'll figure out what its purpose is."
"You can't find it because it doesn't exist," I said. "Dis and the Darklords created Nekropolis and Umbriel. Why would they create a moon only to hide it and conceal its existence?"
"I don't know," Ichorus said. "That's-"
"- the mystery," I finished for him. "I get that."
"Besides, I have proof that Ulterion exists." He paused. "Well, maybe it's proof. On this last flight, I went higher than I ever had before, and I thought I saw something in the sky. No, saw is the wrong word. Even vampire eyesight can't make out anything in the starless void over the city. But I sensed something… something big, and I headed toward it. I kept on flying, getting closer and closer, and then… Well, I don't know what happened next, but something happened, because I woke up on the ground – specifically, in the middle of a fair-sized crater I made in one of the Wyldwood forests. My left wing had been damaged by some kind of blast attack, and the rest of me was extra crispy, as if I'd been severely burned. I lay there awhile, letting myself heal, until I heard a group of lykes approaching, no doubt coming to investigate what had crashed in their forest. I hadn't healed enough to fly, but I could move, so I climbed out of the crater and started running. I managed to heal the worst of the burns as I ran, but my wing didn't heal all the way. But it got good enough to allow me to leap into the air and glide for decent distances, which is how I avoided becoming lyke chow. Once I got out of the Wyldwood, I came straight here. The doctors should be able to help my wing heal the rest of the way. At least, I hope they can. The idea of being grounded…" He shuddered as he trailed off.
"So you have no memory of being attacked?" Devona asked.
"None whatsoever. I don't know if I blocked it out or if it just happened too fast. But I figure I got too close to Ulterion and triggered some sort of defense mechanism. A spell or some kind of tech. There's got to be a reason it's called the Hidden Moon, right? Maybe somebody wants to make sure it stays hidden."
"Or maybe you just ran into another of the Darklords' air defenses," I said. "A kind you've never encountered before."
Ichorus tried to shrug, but the shoulder with the damaged wing refused to move. "Maybe." He grinned once more. "When my wing is healed, I'll go back and find out for sure."
"You'll go back and get yourself incinerated if you're not careful," I muttered.
"Maybe," he said. "But you know my motto: 'Fly free or die.'"
Varney came over to us then. "I finished the forms and returned them to the registration desk. Can we go do something interesting now? Please? My producer will kill me if I don't keep delivering good footage." He paused as if reconsidering. "Actually, since my producer is a demon, killing me is probably the least of what he'll do to me."
"I suppose we can't have you suffering the tortures of the damned just because we're boring," I said. "Let's go." I stood and began pushing Devona's wheelchair toward the exit. "Good luck with the wing," I said to Ichorus as we left.
Ichorus grinned one last time and gave me a thumbs-up.
As we walked, I turned to Varney. "You know, if it's exciting footage you want, maybe you should forget about filming us and do a documentary on Ichorus. Think about it: an intrepid explorer, a rebel who defies authority, on a perilous quest to discover the truth about one of Nekropolis' oldest legends…"
Varney gave me a look.
I shrugged. "Can't blame a guy for trying."
FIVE
"Make sure to get my good side, OK?"
I wanted to point out to Lazlo that he didn't have a good side, but Varney was the cameraman, not me, and I decided to let him break the news. He decided, however, to duck the issue. "I'll, uh, do my best."
Lazlo's a demon, and to put it mildly, not a particularly attractive one. He's a mix of mammal and insect and looks as if a good portion of his insides are on the outside. Clothing might help – especially if he wore a full-body hazmat suit with a darkened visor – but Lazlo prefers to go au naturel, which is most unfortunate for everyone in Nekropolis with functioning eyesight. He exudes a horrendous stench that I thankfully can't smell, but I didn't like to think about how bad it was for Devona and Varney, considering their enhanced vampire senses. Devona at least had the advantage of having been around Lazlo enough times over the last few months to get somewhat used to his stink. Varney, who had been relegated to sitting up front with Lazlo, hadn't had that dubious pleasure, and his face was paler than usual and he kept swallowing, as if he were fighting to keep from throwing up.
We'd left the Fever House and were driving through Gothtown's major cultural district. We'd just passed the theaters and concert halls on Mummer's Row and were now heading down the Avenue of Dread Wonders. Given their long lives, vampires have a strong appreciation of history and the arts, and the Avenue of Dread Wonders was where the greatest museums in the city were located. We passed the Pavilion of Nightmares Incarnate, the Great Library, and the Hemesphere, among others. I was tempted to ask Lazlo to stop at the Great Library, as it had been a while since I'd talked with Waldemar, and I thought the ancient vampire might be able to shed some light on Devona's condition. There was no limit to Waldemar's knowledge, and he could answer any question – for a price. It was a price I was willing to pay and had before, but I knew Devona wouldn't approve, and so I let Lazlo drive on by without saying a word. I told myself that maybe I could come back later, when Devona was otherwise occupied. I didn't like the idea of sneaking around behind her back, but I liked the idea of gambling with her health and the health of our baby even less. As far as I was concerned, the more knowledge we could get, the better. And if the price I had to pay for that knowledge was a bit steep, so what? It would be worth it to me.