"And that's where we came in," Arthur said. "We set up shop here in Nekropolis to make sure the Darkfolk stay here. We don't want to hurt you, especially, but we want to make certain that you never return to Earth and begin preying on humanity again."
"We intend to stop whoever and whatever is attempting to transport Nekropolis to Earth," Maggie said. She glanced at Bartelmeu. "And according to our resident psychic saint, arming you three is our best shot at doing so."
Bartelmeu smiled. "And I predict a solid fifty-fifty chance of success! You can't ask for better odds than that!" He frowned. "Well, I suppose you could, but you're not going to get them."
"So either we'll win or we won't." I sighed. "How comforting."
You know something? Sometimes I really hate my job.
SEVENTEEN
Arthur was giving Varney and Shamika some lastminute instructions on how their weapons worked, and since he'd already checked me out on mine, I pulled Maggie aside to talk with her.
"Thanks for the assist," I told her. "We'll try to bring your toys back unbroken if we can."
She smiled. "Don't make promises you can't keep. Besides, it'll be worth the loss of our equipment if you manage to prevent Nekropolis from being transported to Earth."
"Bartelmeu called you Joan at one point," I said. "If you're who I think you are, you're looking awfully good for a woman who died over five hundred years ago."
"This is Nekropolis, Matt. You above all people should know that death doesn't mean the same thing here as it does on Earth." Her smile edged toward a grin. "Besides, haven't you ever heard of the eternal flame?"
She raised an index finger and fire suddenly wreathed the flesh. She then lifted the finger to her mouth and, with a wink, blew out the flames.
When we were ready to say our goodbyes, Saint Bartelmeu's ghostly form began to fade.
"Good luck to you all," he said. "And Matt, no matter what happens, don't despair. Devona will give you a hand if she's able."
I didn't know what he meant exactly, but his cryptic words implied that Devona was still alive, and I found that immensely reassuring.
Then Bartelmeu was gone, and Maggie, Arthur, and Houston the weremadillo walked us back to the elevator.
"Aren't you going to try to wipe our memories or something?" I asked Maggie. "You've worked so hard to keep the location of your headquarters secret, I'm surprised you're simply going to let us walk out of here."
"We don't get many visitors," Maggie said, "but we have chemical means of removing all memory of their stay with us, thanks to our benefactor upstairs."
"You mean Bennie-factor," I said, and Maggie smiled.
"Indeed. But we can't afford to tinker with your memories, not if we want you to recall how to properly use the weapons we provided you. We'll just have to trust you not to reveal our location to anyone. And if you're ever tempted… Do you remember the verse in the Bible about how God notes the fall of every sparrow?"
"It sounds familiar," I said.
Maggie gave us an intense look. "Well, He's not the only one with His eye on you. Don't forget that."
We took the Underwalk to a club only a couple blocks from Demon's Roost. I would've liked to have gotten closer if we could, but this was the closest exit to Varvara's stronghold, and it was the best we could do.
As we walked up the ladder and entered through a trapdoor in the club's storeroom, Shamika said, "I know the situation is serious, and you're worried about Devona, Matt – and please don't take this the wrong way – but it's nice to actually be taking part in events instead of just watching them happen around me. I spent so many years hiding in the shadows, just observing, never taking part… Whatever happens, however this turns out, at least I did something for once, you know?"
I tried to imagine what it must've been like for Shamika, spending centuries being a fly on the wall, always watching, always alone. What did it say about such an existence that she found being in the middle of a war preferable? I guess it said everything.
The club was deserted and when we went outside, we saw the street was empty as well – no traffic, no pedestrians. Given how insanely busy the Sprawl is twenty-four hours a day, I found the lack of activity and the silence that came with it profoundly eerie.
We walked into the street and headed in the direction of Demon's Roost, Varney on my right, Shamika on my left. We'd emerged from the Underwalk within the cordoned-off area around Demon's Roost, but it seemed the Demonkin soldiers had all drawn closer to their queen's fortress, perhaps in anticipation of Talaith's next attack. Whatever the reason, we didn't encounter any resistance until we were within sight of Demon's Roost.
A squad of demons sat in the middle of the street, smoking, drinking, drugging, gambling, and generally showing a complete lack of military discipline. Hey, no commanders were around to chastise them, and they were demons.
The first to notice us was a she-demon with a cat's head, and a giant python for a tail.
She spoke in a slightly slurred voice. "Hey guys, either the hallucinogens I took just kicked in, or someone's gotten through our perimeter."
The other demons turned to look at us, and while a few grinned in anticipation of the fun they were going to have slaughtering us, several noted how we were armed with looks of confusion and mounting concern.
A heavily muscled blue-skinned demon, whose facial features were embedded in his chest, stood up and shouldered what looked like a bazooka made out of a half-dozen spinal columns.
"Time for some target practice!" he said in a booming voice.
The rest of the squad rose to their feet and readied their weapons, but not all of them did so with equal enthusiasm. I assumed the hesitant ones sensed the power in the objects we carried, but weren't yet quite sure what to make of them, or us.
"Stay close to me," I whispered to Varney and Shamika, and they both nodded. Then pitching my voice louder so the demons could hear, I said, "One warning: run now and you get to live!"
The face-chest demon laughed. "Some threat, zombie! You look like you're about to fall apart any second. We won't even have to waste any ammo on you. All one of us will have to do is walk up and tap you on the shoulder, and you'll collapse like a house of cards!"
Several of his fellow soldiers laughed, though some did so uncomfortably. The closer Varney, Shamika, and I got, the more they could sense the power we carried with us, and the more worried they became. I couldn't blame Face-Chest for laughing at me, though. By this point, it took all the concentration I had to keep my component pieces together, and I moved like a drunken puppet suffering from constant seizures. Hardly the most intimidating sight.
Face-Chest went on. "Still, I think shooting you will be more fun." He pulled the trigger on his weapon, there was a loud ka-chunk as it fired, and a screaming severed demon head shot forth from its barrel and came flying through the air toward me, fangs gnashing in anticipation of taking a big bite out of me when it hit.