Devona turned to Orlock then, and though I knew like me she felt misgivings about the collection, she concealed them well as she said, "This is amazing! It puts my father's collection to shame! In fact, if all the Darklords' combined their separate collections, I'd doubt the result would rival yours."
Orlock bowed. "Your words do me great honor. Thank you."
As the ancient Bloodborn straightened, I said, "You know this makes you look even more like a suspect than you did before."
Orlock waved my comment aside. "If I was responsible for the theft of Edrigu's flute, I'd never have admitted the truth about what I do, let alone brought you both down here. Now let us have no more of such talk, yes?"
"What do you do exactly?" I asked. "I mean, we can see you collect things, but you seem to imply there's more to it than just that."
"There is," Orlock said. "But let us walk as we talk. I have guests so seldom and it gives me great pleasure to show off my displays."
Orlock began crabwalking deeper into the chamber and Devona and I followed. The floor was made of white marble and our footsteps echoed solidly as we walked. As we went we found our heads turning this way and that, trying to take everything in as Orlock spoke, but our efforts were doomed to failure. There were simply too many wonders surrounding us to fully comprehend, let alone appreciate them all, though we found the increasing number of beings frozen within domes to be more than a little disturbing.
"I am, as you might have gathered, incredibly ancient, even for my kind." Orlock glanced at Devona. "Old as your father, as a matter of fact. You might even say we're brothers, in a sense. When Dis began approaching the most powerful of the Darkfolk to explain his dream of creating a home for us where we would be separate and therefore safe from humanity, I was one of his first supporters. Even then humans outnumbered Darkfolk and I knew they would only continue to outbreed us as the years passed. If we were to survive as more than bits of legend and folklore hiding in the shadows, we had to build our own home. While Dis continued seeking support for his plan, he tasked me with a most important job. I was to scour the Earth and gather together scattered magical objects and creatures that didn't belong to a specific Darklord or demilord in preparation for the day when Nekropolis would be born and the Darkfolk would take up residence there.
"For the better part of a century I performed my duty, storing my finds in a system of caverns hidden beneath a mountain range in Europe. And when the day of the Descension arrived at last, everything I'd collected was brought to Nekropolis with us.
"Of course, I didn't get to keep what I'd collected. Once the Darklords were settled into their various strongholds, they paid me a visit and claimed what items and creatures they wished, leaving me to hold on to only those things none of them wanted."
"Your collection must've been massive beyond imagination if they left you all this," Devona said, gesturing at the displays around us.
Orlock gave a soft hissing laugh. "My dear, what the Darklords left me wouldn't have filled a tenth of this chamber. What you see around you is what I've managed to gather in the centuries since the city's founding."
"What happened?" I asked. "Did you find yourself bitten by the collecting bug and couldn't shake the habit?"
Orlock smiled. "Not exactly. After the first hundred years of Nekropolis's existence, a citywide conflict broke out that would eventually come to be called the Blood Wars. When it was over much of the city lay in ruins and rebuilding took some time. It was during that period that I resumed my career as a collector, but now I viewed myself more as a preserver. You see, the Blood Wars made me realize that the Darkfolk can be just as shortsighted and foolish as humanity in their own way and I came to believe that one day, one way or another, Nekropolis would be destroyed and the survivors would be forced to move again and find a new place to settle. I'm collecting, preserving and storing items and creatures for that day, the same as I once did. I suppose that instead of being a simple bookseller, I'm actually in the insurance business."
He laughed at his own joke, but neither Devona nor I found it amusing. I doubted any of the beings frozen within stasis globes had volunteered to become part of Orlock's twisted version of Noah's Ark.
"Where did all these items come from?" Devona asked.
"Some are from my original collection that I've managed to reclaim over the years, one way or another," Orlock said. "Some are objects that were left behind on Earth during the Descension and which my operatives have located and managed to smuggle into Nekropolis for me. Oh, don't look so shocked. There are other ways in and out of the city besides the Darklords' mirrors. Not many, perhaps, but they exist. And still other objects were items ordinary Darkfolk brought with them to Nekropolis and which I've managed to obtain, along with new items that have been created since the Descension."
"What about the creatures?" I asked. "Not to mention the people." I tried to keep the disgust I felt out of my voice, but I wasn't entirely successful. Still, Orlock didn't seem to notice.
"They are rare and interesting lifeforms that were either unique or endangered. They're preserved here until the day the Darkfolk once again relocate. They will be revived then."
"I see." I couldn't help sounding skeptical. If Orlock thought he was preserving everything in his collection for some future relocation – if such a thing ever took place – what guarantee would there be that Orlock would disperse his collection then and free his captives? Wouldn't he be just as likely to continue holding them against the possibility of yet another future relocation? There was a good chance the beings frozen within Orlock's stasis domes would never be free again.
Still, I decided not to say anything about it to Orlock. We still needed him to identify Edrigu's bone flute and I didn't want to risk offending him. After what we'd seen I didn't like the idea of one day helping him add another item to his collection as the price for his help, but a deal was a deal. But I'd make damn sure that we wouldn't bring him anything – or anyone – alive.
I was about to ask Orlock another question when the vox in my coat pocket said, "Someone's calling," repeating the phrase until I pulled out the phone and answered it.
"Excuse me for a moment," I said to Orlock and stepped away to take the call. It was David.
"We got lucky, Matt. I hooked ravens up to each monitor and kept going back and forth between them as the video downloaded. I haven't found any footage of the actual theft yet, but I did find some of the attack on you in the alley. It's not very clear and I can't make out the faces of the men who attacked you. I've tried enhancing the images, but so far I haven't been-"
I broke in. "Men? You mean there was more than one?"
"That's right. There were two. They attacked from behind. One put a cloth bag over your head while the other used some kind of garrote to slice through your neck. It wasn't an ordinary garrote, either, but some kind of hi-tech device that cut through both flesh and bone as if they were water."
I'd already guessed as much about the nature of the garrote, but up to that point I'd been assuming there'd only been one attacker. But now that I thought back on it the attack had occurred swiftly – too swiftly for one man to do the job himself. And when I went back over the sounds I'd heard then I realized that while in the confusion at the time I assumed the noises had been made by one assailant, in fact, the sounds had come from different directions and they'd overlapped. I had been attacked by two men and the evidence had been there all along. I just hadn't recognized it for what it was.