They nodded, looking insufferably pleased with themselves. Still, there wasn't anything I could say about it since I suppose they had technically rescued me, though I like to think that I'd have found my own way out, given enough time.
I turned back to Gnasher. 'I appreciate that your people are willing to do business with us but I have a hard time believing that you intend to trust us with so many of your secrets – the true nature of the Dominari, the existence of the Underwalk, that you have a direct pipeline in and out of Tenebrus…'
Gnasher grinned. 'Trust is for fools. We believe in insurance.'
'I'm afraid he's right, Matt.' Devona reached into her skirt pocket and removed a small glass vial containing a tiny wriggling worm.
'What's that?'
'A tongue worm,' she said. 'You place it on your tongue, as its name suggests, and it sinks into the flesh. It lies dormant within, but if you ever try to tell anyone anything you know about the Dominari, the worm will explode, taking your head with it. All four of us accepted tongue worms before the Dominari would agree to help us. This one is for you.'
I looked more closely at the worm inside the vial. It looked like a simple inch worm, nothing special about it, but I had no doubt it could do what Devona said. No wonder the Dominari were able to keep their secrets so well.
I looked to Devona's employees, trying to understand. They'd all taken quite a risk by accepting tongue worms, and while I had no problem believing Devona would do so for me – for I'd do the same for her in an instant – those three barely knew me, and I barely knew them. Hell, I didn't really like them, and I hated Bogdan. Why would they have taken such a risk for me?
I decided that was something for me to ponder later. If we were going to get out of here it was obvious what I needed to do first. I didn't even think about objecting; I had a pretty good idea what would happen to me if I refused to accept a tongue worm. I took the vial from Devona, grasping it as best I could in my right hand, and pulled the rubber stopper out with my left – though as uncoordinated as that hand now was, it took me a couple tries. Devona frowned but thankfully she kept silent and let me have my pride. Once the stopper was out I upended the vial over my tongue and the worm fell out. I felt nothing, but Devona said, 'It's gone,' and I knew the worm had merged with the flesh of my tongue and disappeared. I replaced the stopper and tucked the vial into my pocket – vermen aren't the only ones who don't like to waste things – and faced Devona once more.
'Now what?'
'Now we board the tram and get out of here before Keket realizes you've escaped. Just because the Dominari helped us is no reason she'll allow you to get away.'
'True,' Gnasher said. 'And our deal was to provide a means for you to escape, which we have done. We will not interfere with any attempt to recapture you. We won't directly defy Keket since we need to stay on her good side in order to continue operating inside Tenebrus.'
I almost told the verman that his concern for my well being was touching, but I said nothing. He was Dominari and there wasn't anything personal in his attitude. It was just business.
I still had hold of Gnasher's dire blade and now I handed it back to the verman.
'Thanks for the loan,' I said.
Gnasher nodded and took the blade from me. It was still sticky with Rex's blood and Gnasher held the weapon gingerly by the hilt as he reached into one of his pockets. I thought he would pull out a handkerchief to clean the blade, but instead he took out a plastic storage bag, popped the dire blade inside, sealed it and tucked the bagged weapon into his inner jacket pocket. I had no idea what the Dominari might want with a sample of Lycanthropus Rex's blood, but I'm sure they'd find some use for it.
Despite the fact the dire blade had saved all us from Rex, I was glad to be rid of the damned thing. Some weapons are simply too awful to use and a dire blade is one of them.
'Thanks for all your help,' I told the verman. 'I might've made it without you, but I doubt I'd have done so in one piece.'
Gnasher accepted my gratitude with a nod. 'It was a pleasure doing business with you, Matt. And now that we've established a relationship, perhaps we'll be able to work together again in the future.'
I felt a mixture of anger and disgust upon hearing the verman's words. I wasn't the kind of guy who worked with mobsters… at least, I wasn't before that day. I bit back whatever reply I might've made, knowing it was probably unwise to piss off a Dominari Secundar who'd just helped get me out of prison. Instead, I returned his nod and left it at that. Still, I couldn't help wondering how many more times I might have to bend, if not break, my personal moral code before I managed to claw my way out of the mess I'd somehow fallen into – assuming it was even possible to get out.
Sensing I was uncomfortable Devona laid a gentle hand on my arm. 'Let's go.'
The five of us climbed aboard the vehicle I'd come to think of as the Scrap Tram.
'Good luck to you, Matt!' Gnasher said. Then he grinned. 'You are most definitely going to need it and in industrial sized quantities.'
I sighed as I took a seat up front next to Devona. 'Truer words were never spoken.'
As soon as we were all seated the Frankenstein verman started the engine – which sounded remarkably smooth-running given the tram's ramshackle appearance – and we started rolling down the tunnel.
As we traveled we passed other vehicles of similar design, each driven by a Baron built verman and containing a variety of cargo. Sometimes passengers – often other vermen, but just as often members of other species – and sometimes wooden crates filled with unknown contents. The Underwalk was a bustling place, in its own way as busy as the streets above us. It was like an entirely different city existed beneath Nekropolis and I marveled anew at the size and complexity of the Dominari's organization.
'So what landed you in the hoosegow?' Scorch asked. Once we'd boarded the tram both she and Tavi assumed their human guises and now she looked like a teenage girl again, but she still had the demon's gruff attitude.
I told them all about my visit to the Nightspire, my interrogation by Quillion and what the First Adjudicator had shown me.
Devona was scowling long before I was finished and when I stopped speaking she continued scowling, lost in thought. Then she shook her head as if to clear it.
'First things first,' she said. There was a duffle bag on the seat next to us and she reached over, opened it, and pulled out a smaller cloth bag. She opened the bag and removed a bracelet made of tiny bones from a lizard or maybe a rodent.
Good thing Gnasher isn't here to see this, I thought.
'I stopped by Papa Chatha's before we came to get you,' Devona said.
She slipped the bracelet onto my broken wrist and within seconds I could feel the bones knitting themselves back together and I could feel my smashed nose resetting itself. After a couple minutes Devona removed the bracelet and put it back into the bag.
'That should do it,' she said. 'Papa placed a restorative spell on the bracelet to heal any damage you sustained in Tenebrus and he also added a preservative spell to make you look as fresh as possible.' She leaned forward and examined my neck. 'It even healed the seam on your neck where Victor Baron reattached your head. Excellent!' She leaned back, looking very pleased with herself.
I experimentally flexed my left hand but its coordination was still off. I guess there's only so much the magic of a voodoo priest can fix. Still, I wasn't complaining. Papa had more than done right by me.
'Let me guess: if I'm going to operate incognito, I need to look like a living man, so no tinge of gray to my skin, and no obvious injuries that apparently don't hurt me.'
She nodded. 'If we're going to attempt to clear your name, we're probably going to run into trouble.'
I smiled. 'Don't we always?'
She smiled back. 'When we do – difficult as this may be for you – try to avoid getting beat up. And if you do get injured, pretend like it hurts. You're the only selfwilled zombie in the city, and you'll need to do everything you can to act like a living man if you want to avoid being recognized.'
Sounds easy enough, right? After all, I'd spent almost four decades alive before becoming a zombie. But after being dead for several years, I wasn't sure that I could fake being alive. The big things I could do just fine. After all, I could still think and talk, but I move more stiffly than I did when I was alive and I don't notice small things like
