Tim Waggoner - Dark War

Fade frowned. "Tell me about it. Half the clubs in the Sprawl are empty. People don't feel safe to go out. Personally, I feel that wartime is the perfect opportunity for partying. The chance that the club you're in might become a bombed-out crater any second adds a little zing to the festivities, don't you think?"

That was bad news for Fade. The more people she interacted with on a daily basis, the firmer reality's grip on her was. I hadn't noticed, but her colors seemed muted, a bit less intense and washed-out, as if she wasn't as there as she should be. If the war continued and escalated, fewer and fewer people would go out and the Sprawl's clubs, bars, and restaurants would become deserted. And if that happened, Fade wouldn't be able to find enough people to talk to, and there was a good chance she'd live up to her name.

I saw Fade's glass was empty, and since Carl had finished off his beer, I offered to buy the two of them another round. Skully was at the other end of the bar talking to the Jade Enigma, and I motioned to catch his attention. He looked at me, and I pointed to Fade and Carl and held up two fingers. He nodded, made them another pair of drinks, and brought them over. Carl got another mug of beer, and Fade got a bubbling blue concoction called a Miasmic Overload whose chief ingredient was poison: tree frog toxin. It should have been deadly to humans, but Fade sipped it without ill effect. Who knows? Maybe the attention she received from ordering such a deadly drink shored up her reality and neutralized the poison. At any rate, she didn't instantly keel over dead, and her color did seem sharper and brighter.

"Hey, Matt," Skully said. "I'm surprised to see you here. Word on the street is that Varvara's put out a warrant for your arrest."

"You know what I always say: it's nice to be wanted."

Skully laughed which, given the ways he looks, is an unsettling sight. From the neck down, Skully resembles a stocky, broad-shouldered man. But from the neck up, he's a skull. No hair, no skin, nothing but bone. Skully usually wears a white shirt with the cuffs rolled up, and a black leather apron designed to protect his clothes from being eaten away in case he gets a little sloppy with any of the more dangerous chemicals he uses to mix his customers' drinks. Despite his appearance, Skull comes across as a good-humored barkeep, but the enchanted silver broad axe he keeps behind the bar in case of trouble tells a different story, as does the fact that his place is a Dominari-owned establishment. For years I'd been unaware of Skully's ties to the Dominari, and when I learned about them, it put a strain on our friendship. I'm still not entirely comfortable with Skully's business dealings with the Dominari, but I try not to think about them too much. Skully's helped me with a lot of cases over the years, and in Nekropolis, a friend is defined as someone you can trust not to devour you when your back is turned or steal your soul when you're not looking. By that standard, Skully is my friend, and as for the rest, I figure in the end it'll all come out in the wash.

Carl narrowed his eyes as he peered at my acidscarred face. "A little mortician's wax would fix that right up."

I said, "Reptilikan hocked a loogie at me."

"And you look a little loose in the joints," Carl added. "If you were a Frankenstein monster, I'd advise you to get your bolts tightened."

"That sounds vaguely naughty," Fade said, grinning. She then nodded at my wrist stump.

"Looks like you lost a hand somewhere along the way too."

"Occupational hazard," I said.

Fade raised an eyebrow. "You don't really expect Carl and I to let it go at that, do you? We're reporters. Do tell us the all the details, the gorier the better."

" I'm a reporter," Carl said. "What you write is entertainment." He sipped his beer. "Not that either of us is getting to do much writing at the moment."

"Why's that?" I asked.

"Demon's Roost has instituted a complete information blackout," Carl answered. Then he made a sour face. "Or rather, the great General Klamm has. None of the Demonkin are allowed to talk to the media, and we're forbidden from writing or broadcasting any information related to the war. Why else do you think my charming companion and I are sitting around this dump drinking?" He looked at Skully. "No offense."

"None taken," Skully said, but the tiny pinpricks of light that momentarily glowed within his empty sockets told a different story. If Carl noticed Skully's reaction, he ignored it.

"You know it's sad when reporters are reduced to interviewing each other," Fade added. "That's why we're so glad to see you, Matt. You're usually in the thick of things. Why don't you let me pump you for information? Who knows? You might even enjoy it."

I didn't take Fade's flirting seriously. It was just another way for her to draw attention to herself.

"I don't have time to chat," I said, with more of an edge in my voice than I wanted. "I have a problem, and I need help."

"Something's happened to Devona," Carl said. Before I could ask, he added, "I don't know anything. I'm merely making an educated guess based on your obviously agitated state."

"And there's the fact that Devona's not here," Fade put in.

"That too," Carl agreed.

"Look, I promise that I'll sit down with both of you for an exclusive joint interview once the current situation is resolved." Varney gave me an offended look. "Oh, don't bother pretending to be upset," I snapped. I didn't care about helping Varney maintain his cover just then. "But right now I need to get in touch with the Hidden Light, and I don't have time to go through the usual channels."

Carl raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think any of us know how to get hold of them? The location of their headquarters is the most carefully guarded secret in the city. I ought to know. I've tried for years to get an interview with their leadership."

"Me too," Fade said wistfully. "Can you imagine how many hits my blog would get if I could? It'd be enough attention to keep me solid for an entire month!"

At the mention of the Hidden Light, the druggedout gill man seated next to me got up and staggered away at a good clip, wobbling as he headed for the door and made his exit. Just speaking the Hidden Light's name can be enough to clear a room in Nekropolis, if you say it loudly enough.

Carl wasn't joking about the Hidden Light's location being secret. When I'd first decided I needed the Hidden Light's help, I asked Shamika if she knew where their HQ was. But she had no idea, and she assured me that Gregor didn't either. How the Hidden Light managed to hide themselves from the Watchers, I didn't know, but I wasn't surprised. The Hidden Light is one of the most powerful organizations in the city, and the only way they survive among the Darkfolk is to keep their identities and location, like their name says, hidden.

I knew how to get hold of Magdalene Holstrom, my contact in the Hidden Light, but the process took some time. First I leave a message for her taped beneath a specific table at the Ghost of Meals Past, a restaurant that serves ectoplasmic recreations of the best meals you've ever enjoyed. The food's emotionally satisfying, though not very filling. After dropping off the note, I wait, anywhere from a couple days to as much as a week, before I get a call on my vox. The caller is always someone different, and I never recognize the voice. I'm given instructions on where and when to meet Maggie, and if I'm so much as a minute late, she's gone when I get there. She always comes in disguise, wearing a different body each time – or at least appearing to. I'm not sure if she cloaks herself in some kind of illusion spell, if she's a shapechanger of some kind, or if she's a bodyswitcher. But her voice is always the same, which is how I recognize Maggie. She never spends longer than ten minutes with me, we conduct our business – which usually consists of her giving me a few items I can't get anywhere else, such as holy water and blessed religious tokens. After that, she leaves, and that's the last I hear from her until the next time I need to get in touch with her.