The squad then broke into cheers, and their work done, they set about dismantling the Blastphemer.
'Did I overdo it?' Shamika asked. 'I was afraid the death-cry was a bit much, but I couldn't resist.'
I remembered what Shamika had told us about how she could make herself look like whatever she wished. She'd created a decoy resembling me and had sacrificed it to throw the demons off my trail.
'I thought your component pieces had to touch each other to communicate,' I said.
'That's the easiest way, but we can communicate by low-level telepathy if we're close enough,' she said. 'Good thing I did that. The Blastphemer packs quite a punch. That stung like hell!'
I couldn't help smiling at her choice of words. 'I think that's the general idea.'
Devona and I had built the entrance to the Underwalk in one of the storage rooms, so after checking on Tavi one last time and saying goodbye to Bogdan, then Shamika, Varney, and I went into the storage room, through the trapdoor, and down the ladder into the Underwalk. An electric cart was parked by the ladder, a ramshackle device cobbled together from cast-off odds and ends, some mechanical, some organic, and some indeterminate.
Varney eyed the cart skeptically, but once he saw it held together when Shamika and I got on, he climbed in after us and took a seat in the back. I started the cart, turned on the headlights, and we headed down the tunnel. It wasn't very wide or tall, but there was room enough for two carts to pass by one another, if only just.
'The cart may not look like much, but it works just fine,' I said. 'Its makers abhor waste, and they recycle everything. Their tech may not be pretty – and its smell may leave something to be desired – but it's always functional.'
'What makers?' Varney asked. 'And what is this place?'
'I can't tell you,' I said. 'I've been magically sworn to secrecy. If I even try to tell you, my tongue will explode and take my head with it – quite literally.'
'But I can tell you,' Shamika said. 'These tunnels are called the Underwalk, and they were created by the Dominari so that they could move throughout the city undetected. The Underwalk exists in all five Dominions, but you can't use it to cross from one Dominion to the other because Phlegethon blocks the way. You still have to use the bridges for that. The Dominari tried to dig under Phlegethon, but its fire extends downward for so many miles that eventually they gave up.'
Varney's eyebrows rose. 'The Dominari? I didn't know you associated with criminals, Matt. Then again, you were imprisoned in Tenebrus for a time.' His tone clearly indicated his disapproval.
'I was imprisoned on a false charge, and I received a full pardon,' I said. 'But don't worry that Galm is going to be upset that his future son-in-law has ties to the Dominari. All the Darklords know about them. Dis too. They couldn't do business in the city without the Lords' approval, tacit though it might be. The Dominari operate a literal underground economy, and whatever you or I might think about their activities, they're necessary for the city's survival.'
Most people know the Dominari as Nekropolis' version of the mob, and that's true enough as it goes, but there's more to it than that. Nekropolis is as self-sustaining as a city can be, producing its own goods and services for the most part, and importing anything else it might need from Earth. But the Dominari fill in the cracks in the city's economy, and without them, Nekropolis couldn't go on. As a former cop, I'm uncomfortable with the situation, to say the least, but as a pragmatist, I understand it.
'And your connection to them is…' Varney asked.
'Something I can't talk about. The tongue thing again, remember? But I'm no criminal, if that's what you're asking.'
He thought about this for a moment and finally nodded. 'Very well. I've observed you long enough to believe you're a trustworthy man. I'll accept your word on that matter.'
'What about you?' I said. 'How did you get to be a secret agent for Lord Galm?'
He shrugged. 'There's little to tell. As you might imagine, Galm has many servants, and he uses us as he sees fit. I have a talent for pretending to be someone I'm not. Centuries ago, when I was human, I dreamed about being an actor, and in a way, I suppose I've become one.'
'I'm no theatre critic, but as far as I'm concerned, you played the part of an annoying airheaded cameraman to perfection.'
He smiled, showing a hint of fang. 'Thank you.'
'Where are we going?' Shamika said, sounding more like a kid eager to get on with the next fun activity than an ancient alien entity struggling to defeat the darker half of her personality. Maybe in a way this was fun for her. I wondered what it was like, observing the Darkfolk for four hundred years, getting to know them in intimate detail, but never actually being part of their lives. Never actually living. I couldn't imagine how lonely it must've been.
'I've been thinking about that,' I said. 'If we're going to find Devona, we need to confront Gregor. And since he's masquerading as General Klamm right now, that means we need to get into Demon's Roost. But we have to do so on our terms, not his.'
'And there's the little matter of a demon army standing between us and him,' Varney pointed out.
'Correct. Which means that we're going to need help. The kind of help that specializes in dealing with Darkfolk in general, and demons in particular.'
Varney's organic eye widened in surprise. 'You can't mean…'
I smiled. 'Yep. We're going to pay a visit on the Hidden Light.'
FIFTEEN
But first we had a stop to make.
We drove through tunnels for the better part of twenty minutes, taking turns as necessary, and passing other carts as we traveled. The other carts were usually laden with cargo of one sort or another, almost always packed away in anonymous brown cardboard boxes. The carts were driven by vermen – human-sized bipedal rats – though they were patchwork Frankenstein versions of the creatures, dead who'd been returned to life so they could keep on working. Like I said, the Dominari loathe waste.
The 'repurposed dead' ignored us as we passed. I had no idea if they recognized me or if they simply assumed that anyone traveling the Underwalk belonged there because the Dominari were so careful about whom they revealed their subterranean tunnel system to. All I know is that ever since I accepted the geis that makes it impossible for me to talk about the Underwalk, I can travel it without anyone challenging me.
As I steered the cart with my one remaining hand, I tried not to worry about Devona. I reminded myself that she was more than capable of taking care of herself. She was intelligent, strong, emotionally resilient, and she had her psychic abilities to draw on. Gregor might be a powerful adversary, but he wouldn't harm Devona if he needed her, and the longer she remained alive, the more chance she'd have to find a way to escape or, at the very least, contact me. It helped that several times during the trip I felt the weird phantom sensation of my missing right hand moving. I knew the sensations were just my imagination, but since my hand was with Devona, feeling them was like sharing a connection with her and it was a comfort, strange though it might be.
Eventually we came to a ladder, and I stopped the cart and turned it off. A light in the ceiling came on to illuminate the ladder for us, and we climbed up and opened the trapdoor. The door opened easily for me, though the security spells on it would've stopped Shamika and Varney, and probably reduced them to ashes in the process. We entered a basement filled with crates and barrels, and shelves containing bottles of wine and various other types of alcohol.
'Where are we?' Varney asked.
Shamika answered for me. 'This is Skully's basement,' she said.
Varney thought for a moment. 'Isn't Skully's a dive bar on the western edge of the Sprawl? I've never been there, of course,' he added, as if it was important to make that point. A lot of the older Bloodborn tend to put on aristocratic airs, and I found myself actually missing Varney's hippy cameraman persona. That Varney might have been irritating, but at least he wasn't a snob.
'Well, you won't be able to say that after today,' I told him. I turned to Shamika. 'Do you know if Gregor is aware of what we're doing?' I wasn't sure how the split personality thing worked with Shamika and Gregor, but I gathered that one side of their group mind didn't know what the other side was thinking. So while that meant
