turned and departed without saying a word. None of us was sorry to see him go.
I was familiar with the demon guarding the elevator. Usually, he doesn't wear clothing, but since Jambha was one of the stronghold's staff, he'd been issued a black military uniform. Or at least, it appeared that way. Rakshasas are masters of illusion, so perhaps we only thought he was wearing clothes, which, if you think about, probably saves him a lot on dry-cleaning bills. Whenever I visit, he's wearing, or seems to be wearing, a necklace made of tiny decapitated heads – usually miniature versions of mine – but today all the heads were tiny copies of Talaith, their eyes rolled white, flesh pale; little beads of blood dripped from their ragged neck stumps. What else would a patriotic demon be wearing with an Arcane-Demonkin war in the offing?
Jambha's job is preventing anyone from trying to bother Varvara by using any or all means necessary, the more bloody and violent, the better. Considering that rakshasas are Hindu cannibal demons, there's usually a certain amount of biting, chewing, and swallowing involved. Jambha always gives me grief whenever I need to go up to Varvara's penthouse – though so far I've managed avoid ending up in his stomach – and since he'd dressed the part of a good little soldier that day, I expected him to demand that we present our papers to him or something similar as we approached. But all he did was give us a brisk nod, tap the elevator's up button with a claw, then returned to standing to attention and staring off into space as if we weren't there.
'Aren't you going to say something annoying?' I asked him. 'It wouldn't be a visit to Demon's Roost without you threatening to eat me or one of my friends for having the temerity to even think of bothering your queen.'
Jambha shrugged, though he continued looking straight ahead. 'The queen knows you're coming, and she wants to see you. Why should I waste any time bantering with you? There's a war on, you know.'
'You demons aren't much fun at the best of times, but you're downright dull when you get all militaristic,' I said.
Jambha merely shrugged again, as if to say, That's war for you. The elevator arrived, the door slid open, and we entered. It was a bit of a tight fit for the five of us – it was Varvara's private elevator, after all, and not exactly designed for crowds – but we managed. The door slid shut and the elevator started to rise to the accompaniment of a Muzak version of the 1812 Overture.
'I've never met a Darklord before,' Shamika said as we ascended. 'How should I act?' She didn't sound particularly nervous, just curious – which was strange. Anyone else would've peed themselves at the thought of being in the same building as a Darklord, let alone in the same room. I've encountered all five Darklords on one occasion or another, but I know Varvara best, and I'm still intimidated by her, though I'd never give her the satisfaction of showing it. Anyone with half a mind should've been scared to death to meet the Demon Queen, and anyone with a whole mind should have been terrified right out of it. But not Shamika. She'd demonstrated that she could take care of herself against Magilla, but handling a single demon of middling rank was nowhere near the same as being able to defend yourself against the queen of the Demonkin herself. I wondered if Shamika was overconfident, naive, or a combination of the two. Though she'd supposedly been born and raised in Nekropolis, she didn't always act like it.
'Let Matt do the talking,' Devona said. 'Varvara finds him amusing.'
Shamika frowned. 'And that's a good thing?'
'It's an irritating thing,' I said, 'but useful. As long as Varvara is entertained, there's a decent chance she won't destroy us for bothering her.'
Varney grinned uncertainly. 'You're joking, right?'
I looked at him. 'You've met Galm. You tell me if I'm joking.'
His grin fell away as he considered my comment.
The elevator came to a stop as it reached Varvara's penthouse. The door slid open, and we stepped out and into a place I didn't recognize. Normally, Varvara's private quarters look like a parody of a romance writer's ideal bedroom: silk and satin everywhere, a huge canopied bed covered with overstuffed pillows, perfume-scented air… All of that was gone now, replaced by a war room with dim fluorescent lighting and gray walls. Computer stations lined the room, manned by furiously typing demons wearing communications headsets. A black flag with a crimson flame emblazoned in the middle hung on the wall, along with a number of motivational posters that showed fierce- faced demons and featured slogans like SUFFER NOT A WITCH TO LIVE and PUT THE FLAME TO THE ARCANE! In the middle of the room sat a large gleaming metal table displaying a detailed three-dimensional hologram of the entire city. A keyboard lay flush with the tabletop, along with several monitor screens and rows of buttons and dials – the setup would've done a cheesy spy movie's evil mastermind proud. Standing before the projection dressed in her stylish black uniform was Varvara, and next to her, wearing a similar uniform, was a male demon I didn't recognize.
Like her, he appeared human – tall and handsome in a lean, wolfish way, clean-shaven, but with thick black hair hanging down to his shoulders. Not exactly a military haircut, I thought, but then again, he did serve in a demon army, and their regulations were no doubt somewhat more broad than an Earthly army. The golden stars on his shoulders, along with the fact he stood at the map with Varvara, told me who he was.
'General Klamm, I presume?' I said.
He looked up at me, and I saw that his eyes were as black as his hair, and they shone in the light as if made of polished stone. It was an eerie effect, and I was surprised to discover it creeped me out a little.
'And you must be Matthew Richter. I'd say it was a pleasure to meet you, but I don't see any point in lying.' His voice was rich and cultured, with the weary, snotty edge of a food or theatre critic who'd long ago gotten used to the world constantly disappointing him.
'That's funny. I thought lying came as naturally as breathing to demons.' I looked him up and down. 'You know, given your name, I expected you to look somewhat more mollusk-y.'
Klamm's dark eyes glittered. 'And I expected you to be a loudmouth who thinks he's cleverer than he really is. At least one of us isn't disappointed.'
As desperately as I wanted to hit him with a devastatingly witty comeback, nothing came to mind, so I settled for simply glaring at him.
Varvara's emerald eyes sparkled with delight at our interplay. 'I'd tell you boys to behave yourselves, but where would be the fun in that?' She left the table and came walking toward us. Perhaps sauntered might be a better word. Even when she's all business, Varvara moves like a jungle cat in heat.
I expected her to ask me what information I had for her, but instead of approaching me, she walked up to Devona, bent down – Varvara's quite tall and Devona's petite – and gave her a big hug. 'Congratulations, sweetie! I'm so thrilled that you and Matt are expecting!'
'Thank you,' Devona said. 'We're both quite excited.'
'Well, of course you are!' Varvara said. 'It's not every day that a zombie and a half-vampire have a child, let alone twins.'
Devona and I just gaped at her.
Varvara frowned. 'Did I say something wrong?'
'I'm only having one baby,' Devona said. 'The doctors at the Fever House-'
Varvara interrupted Devona with an imperious wave of her riding crop. 'Don't know their fangs from a can opener. While I, on the other hand, am a dread and mighty Darklord.' She grinned. 'If I say you're going to have twins, you can count on it.'
I was struggling to accept the bombshell the queen of demons had just dropped on us. Devona was right; during all our doctors' visits, no one had ever mentioned that she was carrying two babies. I had no reason to doubt Varvara. Despite what I'd said to Klamm about demons, I'd never known her to lie to me. When you're as powerful as Varvara, you don't need to resort to lying to get what you want. But I couldn't see how the Bloodborn doctors at the Fever House could've made such a mistake.
'The doctors performed ultrasounds…' I began.
'Which only picked up one heartbeat,' Varvara said. 'And that's because only one of your children has a beating heart. The other is… well, I'm not sure what she is, to be honest. She's alive… in a sense anyway.' Varvara flashed Devona a smile. 'She's moving around in there pretty good. Her brother, on the other hand, is a bit more sedate, but they're both healthy enough. I can't tell too much about them. The magic that surrounds them is too strong and too different from anything I've ever encountered before. But they're going to be very special children, that I can promise you.'
Every demon in Varvara's war room broke off what they were doing and turned to look at Devona, expressions of curiosity and in some cases outright wonderment on their faces. Klamm looked at Devona too, but
