The Dark Cycle 1: Master of Beasts
Chapter Three
"I'm going to have to check on a few things." Dante told Nick at breakfast. "I'd take you with me, Nick, but the way I'm going to travel, I'll be better alone.
"But my gut tells me that things are coming to a head. You and Monroe need to get around to the local wesen, the ones that can handle themselves, and the local wizards. I think we're going to need everyone out on the streets tonight. That portal looks ready to bring out some more serious critters than it has up to now, and some of them are going to get past the Thestrals."
Nick considered. "If there aren't too many of them - and the Thestrals will stop some – and if we can get enough people, we might be able to contain them at the edge of the woods, or draw them in among those abandoned industrial buildings.
"I'd also better talk to Captain Renard and speak with Clayton Moreland. He's likely to have his people out on the street, too. I doubt I can stop him, so I need to tell him what to expect. That's not gonna be easy."
"Right." Dante said. "I should be back around noon. Meet up here then? I'm hoping I can find a way to close that portal."
It is untrue to say that most mortals do not go into the Nevernever. In fact, all mortals do, every night, when they dream. That part of this vast Realm is an insubstantial analogue of Earth in which the Ka of the sleeper wanders. Those who have more skill can control these wanderings, even more skilled dreamers can descend the seventy-seven steps to the Gate of Deeper Slumber and from there pass into the true Dreamlands.
But the rest of the Nevernever is at best a chancy place, and even wizards only travel there if the need is urgent. Dante, however, had fewer qualms, his reputation preceded him in this Realm even more than it did on Earth, and the Son of Sparda was not to be lightly challenged. He needed to go a long way, fast, and since he couldn't apparate, this was his best path.
However, he was forced to halt at one point. An interview with the Queen of Winter is one it is wiser not to decline, even for the son of a Lord of Chaos. Queen Mab was suddenly in his path, clad in black and silver, tall and regally beautiful. She made him a graceful curtsey, indicating peaceful intent, to which he returned a short, formal bow.
"Dante ap Sparda." She greeted him formally. "I desire speech with you."
"I'm listening." He replied.
Mab smiled slightly. "A man who knows to guard his words when speaking with a Fae. But you have nothing to fear from me, Dante. I am here only to ask your purpose in this Realm."
"I'm just passing through." He told her.
"Ah!" Her disappointment was visible. "I had hoped you were come to help. The Dark Cycle has begun and the barriers between Realms grow frail. My people are occupied with shoring them up and guarding the weakest points. Your mortal wizards and scientists, in their way, are doing the same. Your aid would have been appreciated."
Dante shrugged. "I'm not a lab-jockey or a spell-slinger, I'm a fighter. Besides, I thought you guys were always trying to get through to Earth?"
Mab looked embarrassed. "It may look that way to you, Dante, and to others of your Realm, but matters here are not so simple. We Fae, even the Unseelie, are bound to the Telling. Even the greatest of us can only do that which is Sung, whereas mortals have no such bond. In other Tellings, some of us have indeed been made to come to your world, and often in ways less than kind. But in this Telling, we have a common purpose.
"If you cannot remain, at least bring news of the Dark Cycle to those you know in the wide world. Those with power for good must be upon their guard, now more than ever.
"Now journey safely, Sparda-son, you have my countenance, and none shall stay you. Farewell for this time."
She curtseyed again, and he responded, then Mab stood aside and Dante went his way.
It was night when he emerged into his own Realm again. He knew where he was, but not exactly when. Time is a peculiar thing, with its own rules, or lack of them. Dante only knew of one person who truly understood Time, he himself wasn't about to try. He knew he was in England, and that it was night. He stood in a well-tended garden, in front of a large house. The river he could hear behind him was the Thames, and single light burned in a window of the house -the study window. He strode over and tapped on it lightly, in a specific pattern.
After a few moments, the curtain was swept aside and the French window opened. Inside stood a stooped figure, an old, old man, thin and narrow-shouldered, with a fringe of grey hair round a bald dome and a great beak of a nose flanked by a pair of dark eyes. Eyes that burned with an almost feverish intelligence.
He looked Dante up and down for a moment, then gestured him in. "Come in, Dante, come in!" The voice was a reedy whisper. "It's been too long, my boy. I was beginning to wonder if you'd outgrown me."
"Never that, Uncle Simon." Dante told him. "But I've been kinda busy lately."
"Ha!" The old man gave a laugh that was almost a cough. "The young are always busy. I was busy myself for far too many years. Now I have too much not being busy to ever catch up on!"
He closed the window and drew the red velvet curtain across it. The room was a cosy one. Almost every wall was lined with books, from old leather-bound incunabula to bright modern paperbacks. There was a great oak desk in one corner, a desk that Dante had never seen without a litter of papers and books on it. The powerful but mellow light that shone from the desk-lamp showed that the old man had been studying again. But now Simon gestured Dante to the two overstuffed armchairs drawn up before a crackling fire.
"Sit, lad, put your feet up a bit." He said, then bustled off into a corner. There was a pop and some clinking, and he came back with two glasses, handing one to Dante before settling himself into the other chair with a sigh of content. They raised their glasses to each other, then Dante took a sip and let the brandy unroll its rich, warm carpet down his throat. Simon picked up a wooden box from the coffee table between them and offered Dante a cigar. Dante rarely smoked, but the Hoyo de Montereys were too special a treat to decline.
"You still don't compromise on the booze or the smokes, Uncle." He said admiringly.
Simon grinned. "Ner." He replied. "I was a connoisseur when I was young, and I couldn't go back to cheap stuff now. I'm rich as Croesus anyway, so why cut back? My doctors say I shouldn't smoke or drink, but at over a century old, I should take the advice of boys just out of their cots?"
Dante laughed, and the two fell to talking. They talked about Dantes' latest exploits, about his nephew Nero and his girlfriend Kyrie, and Dantes' own partner and lover, Trish. Simon talked about his grandchildren and great grandchildren and great-great grandchildren. Dante knew that to come too quickly or brusquely to the point of his visit would only upset the old man, for whom he genuinely cared. The former financier and student of the occult had been his friend and teacher since he was a teenager, and Dante, who had led a life deliberately sparse of strong attachments, valued their relationship highly.
At length however, Simon gave the younger man a shrewd glance and said: "Anyway, young Dante, you didn't come here, all the way through the Nevernever, at this time of night, just to gossip. What's going on?"
"You're as sharp as ever, Uncle Simon." Dante allowed, then told him about what was happening in Portland.
"So, you're working with the Grimm, then?" Simon said. "I knew his aunt when we were both younger, if he's as good as she was, then you won't go far wrong. And it was Harry Potter who brought you together? I should like to meet Mr Potter, you must invite him for dinner soon. He was quite Albus Dumbledores' favourite pupil, which I admit did not predispose me in his favour."
Dante looked quizzically at his uncle. "Why not? You knew Dumbledore, better than I did. They say he was one of the greatest wizards in history, and the best Headmaster Hogwarts ever had."
"He was all of that." Simon admitted. "But he was also a manipulative sociopath who was not above using anyone or anything – old Muggle scholars, half-demon bounty hunters, spurned lovers, idealistic and vengeful young boys, clever but naïve young women, cursed magical items, even his own death – to achieve his agenda. I was afraid your friend Harry might be cut from the same cloth, but he seems to be a decent man.
"But anyway, what specifically can I help you with about this case?"
"I need to know about this Yrkoon character." Dante said. "I never heard of him, but I figured you might have something."
"Yrkoon, Yrkoon..." Simon mused. "Just a moment, name rings a bell. Something in von Juntz, or was it d'Erlette..." He got up from his chair and went over to the bookshelf, returning shortly with a thick, leather-bound folio volume. "The Unaussprechlichen Kulten – Nameless Cults – by von Juntz, a German mystic who stuck his nose too far into things he shouldn't have and eventually got it -and other parts – chopped off. But not before he put together this excellent compendium of demon-worship.
"Here we are! Yrkoon, Master of Beasts, worshipped by a small coven in Ratisbon, among other places. A very old, but minor demon – his devotees claim he was a Prince of the Bright Empire of Melnibone, whatever that might be – ostensibly a servant of Lucifer. Hmm. Seldom answers invocations in person, but has the power to send demonic beasts to do the summoners' will. When summoned in person, his power increases the longer he stays on Earth, allowing him to bring forth more powerful and dangerous creatures."
"So he does have to be summoned?" Dante asked.
"Oh, yes." Simon replied. "The Seals are quite explicit on that. No demon, or angel for that matter, can come to this Realm unless summoned by a human."
"And he has to obey his summoner?" Dante knew this, but wanted to confirm it. But Simon shook his head.
"Not necessarily." He said gravely. "He could have been Summoned, but not Bound – it requires different rituals. But since an unbound demons' first act is usually to kill their summoner, that person must be either suicidal or sufficiently powerful for the demon not to challenge them."
"I didn't know that." Dante admitted. "All the demons I've encountered have been summoned by humans who were either wanting to control them or worshipped them. I just had the idea that Yrkoon was acting on his own initiative."
"He may well be." Simon said. "If he killed his summoner, or if the summoner was more powerful than he and simply turned him loose as part of a larger plan. In which case, my boy, we are in a great deal of trouble!"
Renard listened to what Nick had to say with an expression that grew steadily more grave.
"This is bigger and more weird than anything I've seen or head of." He admitted. "Not even my relatives would or could cook something like this up!
"There's nothing we can do, officially, but I'll be there tonight, I promise."
A call to Mike Grant elicited a promise to get as many people as he could. Nick knew Monroe was also doing the rounds, which would add a few more blutbaden at least. Elmer Samuels likewise promised to bring as many combat-experienced witches and wizards as he could.
Clayton Moreland was a different matter, and Nick felt he'd better talk to the man face-to-face. They met in Morelands' real estate office. "I'm semi-retired," he explained, "I still come in two-three days a week and this is a good place for a private talk."
Nick explained, as best he could, what he and his friends had discovered, and what they intended to do about it, for tonight at least. He also explained that he had other allies who were not, in any sense of the word, ordinary. When he had finished, Moreland looked at him for a long time.
"Y'know, Nick," he said eventually, "if you'd told me this ten years ago, I'd have recommended you to a good shrink. But nowadays," the big man spread his hands, "we've been invaded by aliens, more than once, there are superhumans and Mutants dotted all over the world, and everything's changed. So now if you tell me we're going to be fighting demons alongside wizards and animal-people, well, I'm going to believe you until or unless I find out different."
"And if you do find out different?" Nick asked.
"I know a really good shrink." Moreland told him with a grin. "Now, then, most of my people are either veterans or experienced hunters or both. We've got rifles, shotguns and handguns, so we won't be short on fire-power.
"Trick will be where to place it."
He went to a filing cabinet and got out a map, which he spread on the desk.
"I bought up quite a bit of that disused industrial site." He explained. "It was kind of an investment, going cheap at the time. Now we got developers coming looking and willing to pay top dollar once the area is rezoned.
"Working on what you've told me, these things seem to come out of the woods around here. If we can herd or draw them here, there's a couple tall buildings and a fairly narrow space between them. We could do like those Spartan guys in the movie and hold 'em there, maybe. Depends on how bright they are."
"Not very." Nick told him. "Like I said, they're animals. Probably as soon as they scent prey, they'll go for it. I also think they'll head back at first light. Nothing has happened during the day so far. For whatever reason, somebody doesn't want them seen yet."
"Ok." Moreland said. "I'll get my people briefed, and we'll see you there tonight."
Back at the house, Nick, Monroe and Dante held a council of war. Dante told them what he'd learned from his trip, though not about his encounter with Queen Mab.
"These Portals," he went on, "open naturally from time to time, but don't usually stay open more than a couple days, or get very big. But some wizards who know about them can tell when and where one's about to open. Could be that a wizard knew this was going to happen and summoned Yrkoon. The Portal would make it easier for Yrkoon to summon more powerful beasts, and with his power, he could expand it and keep it open.
"The longer he stays, the stronger he gets and the wider the Portal will open. Soon he'll be able to call in trained battle-beasts, like Demon Lords use in their armies. More importantly, if the Portal reaches a critical mass, true Demons, the actual people of Chaos, will be able to come through. In ones and twos at first, but if the Portal keeps expanding, whole armies!
"And all without breaking the Seals."
"What are these Seals?" Monroe wanted to know.
"Well, they're not exactly physical Seals." Dante explained. "The Seven Seals are the seven clauses of the treaty the Charred Council forced Law and Chaos to agree to, way back when. Breaking any one of them allows the Council to send the Four Horsemen – their Nephilim enforcers – to punish the transgressor, and nobody wants that!
"The most important Seal, from our viewpoint, is the one that states that a Demon or Angel can only enter this Realm physically if summoned by a human, or mentally by possession if a human – knowingly or unknowingly – leaves themselves open to possession.
"But the Seal takes no account of naturally-occurring Portals, because normally they don't allow intelligent beings to pass through. There's nothing to stop Yrkoon continuing to expand the Portal, because he's here legally, if you like, and can do as he wants. As long as he doesn't conduct a summoning ritual – which Demons aren't allowed to do – there's nothing to stop him sending a trained animal back to Chaos with a message for Lucifer or Mundus saying where the Portal is. Depending on what their current strategy is, either or both of them might be interested in sending troops through to Earth."
"So," Nick said, "We have to close the Portal. How do we do that?"
"Kill Yrkoon." Dante said. "Once he's gone back to Hell, the Portal will collapse of its own accord."
"Dude," Monroe complained, "how come we never get the easy ones?"
In the end, about a hundred and fifty people gathered at the meeting place that night. Nick was worried about how the groups might react to each other, but it turned out he needn't have. The tall witch gripping the redwood and jackalope horn wand was, when you came right down to it, still the pretty girl you'd dated a couple times in High School. The family over there, who turned out to be jagerbaren, were still the hospitable clan who'd had you for a sleep-over with their youngest all those years ago.
More importantly, the de facto leaders of the various groups; Clayton Moreland, Mike Grant and Elmer Samuels, were all cut from basically the same cloth. Captain Renard was also there, having set aside his usual power-suit for jeans, boots, check shirt and gilet, carrying a hunting rifle and a long knife.
All of the muggles carried at least one firearm, mostly rifles but some shotguns – few handguns were in evidence. About a third of the wizard contingent had wands, the rest relied on the wandless magic more usual in the US. The wesen were clearly relying on nature's weapons, except for Monroe, who had retained the chain-mace. Dante had Rebellion, Ebony and Ivory and had added an evil-looking sawn-off shotgun he called the "Coyote-A". Nick, ruefully acknowledging that his still-weak ankle kept him out of the melee, had brought along the massive three-barrelled elephant gun Monroe had once used to take down a siegbarste. This brute of a weapon was slow to load, but could be relied upon to have a devastating effect on the toughest of monsters.
Dispositions were quickly made. The muggles took position on the second and third floors of the taller buildings, commanding a good field of fire. The wesen, along with Dante, lined up between the buildings in such a way as to funnel the attackers into a narrow space. The wizards mostly occupied the first floors, doorways and narrow alleys between the buildings to provide a ground-level crossfire.
That done, all that was needed was to draw the creatures here. Fortunately, among Monroes' friends were a couple of wildermanner. The Sasquatch wesen were not only experts in a wood, but also tough and smart enough to handle themselves. Having had directions from Dante and Monroe, they loped off. Now it was about waiting, and waiting. Well, Nick consoled himself, it's no worse than surveillance duty.
Not was it as long. Perhaps forty-five minutes had passed when he noticed a stirring among the wesen. Many of them were sniffing the air and beginning to woge. Dante had also tensed. Then one of the hunters – up on a roof with night-vision binoculars – began to signal.
"They're coming!" Clayton growled. "Nobody shoot until I do!"
"If Hieronymous Bosch, Salvador Dali, Bram Stoker and H P Lovecraft had gotten together and done some really bad acid," Monroe was to say later, "they still couldn't have dreamed up half of what came out of that forest!"
Nobody afterwards could really describe everything they saw – some couldn't describe anything. Just a roiling mass of jaws, claws, tentacles, fur, scales, shells, eyes in at last eight different colours, wings, mandibles – even fins! It was a testament to human bravery that nobody ran, or even hesitated. Morelands' opening shot was the cue for a volley that caused the whole mob to hesitate for a moment before surging forward again. After that the gunfire was a steady hail, aimed at the larger creatures, bringing them down or weakening them before they reached the line of hand-to-hand fighters.
The wizards pitched in next. Nick saw sheets of flame cover the ground in some areas, whilst others erupted in violent explosions and yet others sucked creatures down, or sprouted strange, tangled plants that caught and strangled anything that tried to run through or over them. Meanwhile the relatively few winged creatures had to run a gauntlet of vivid green blasts Nick recognised – Avada Kedavra – the Killing Curse. After a moment, he realised that the wizards were dealing with the smaller creatures, the ones who could easily swarm the fighters and be impossible to defeat hand-to-hand.
As a result, the ground force was left to deal with an assortment of beasts ranging between dog- and lion-size. None of these appeared to be pack animals, or to have any kind of tactical sense. They just went for it. On the left flank, Monroe led a pack of blutbaden in a savage, kinetic whirl of which he was the centre, dealing out death and destruction left and right with the heavy chain-mace. On the right, Mike Grant had gathered a group of jagerbaren, drangzorn and lowen who systematically tore apart anything that came their way. Dante held the centre, assisted by the wildermannen, a pack of coyotl and a single balam. Not that the demon-hunter seemed to need much assistance. For all his size, he was incredibly quick and agile, switching between his great blade, the powerful shotgun and his lethally-accurate pistols without missing a beat.
It seemed like forever, or maybe a few seconds, Nick was never sure. Afterwards he was told it had been perhaps twenty minutes. Then there was a change. The beasts began to quail, to sniff the air as they left the woods, to stare at the corpses of their predecessors, to lose the mad abandon of their charge.
They're only animals. Nick realised. Wild animals, not trained for battle. Whatever hold this demon has on them can't fully overcome their instincts.
At that moment, something else came out of the woods. Nick recognised it from Mike's description. A spider the size of an SUV, with a rocklike hide. The hide was cracked in places, and a red-orange glow showed through, as if the thing was filled with fire. The beast advanced slowly,the others clustering behind it now, as if encouraged by its presence. As it came within range, people began to fire, the rounds knocking chips off the hide, or widening the cracks a little, but not enough to deter the creature.
Nicks' gun was perhaps the most powerful weapon on the field. It had already proved its worth in taking down some of the largest beasts. He levelled it now. His first shot struck just behind the head, the heavy .600 Nitro Express slug stopped the thing in its tracks and opened up a hole out of which lava dribbled. Then it began to advance again. Nick fired the second barrel into the head, smashing several of the clustered eyes and causing the spider-thing to rear up with a hissing scream. There, on its belly, was a web of cracks centring on a single spot which glowed brightly. Nick loosed the final barrel, the .577, and struck the spot precisely. The beast was flipped over onto its back as liquid fire began to spurt out of it like blood. Stranded, the spider-thing thrashed and screamed as more lava spilled out of rapidly-spreading cracks. Wizards dashed forward to cast cooling charms and prevent a spreading fire. Shortly after that, the rocky shell, empty of the lava that gave it life, began to crumble and disintegrate.
That was enough for the lesser demon-beasts. Their strongest fallen, they turned as one and made off into the woods.
There was a short but noisy celebration, which Dante cut short.
"No time to party!" He stated. "Which is something I don't say often! We have to get after them, now!"
"Why now?" Clayton asked.
"Because that Portal's getting bigger every night, dude." Monroe pointed out. "You want to try and take down a dozen of those fire-spider things?"
"You said the things only come at night." Nick said. "Wouldn't it be better to go in daylight?"
Dante shook his head. "I said they've only been coming at night up to now. The thing stays open and grows during the day. If we don't shut it down soon, it's gonna reach critical mass and we'll need the whole White Council to close it.
"Worse, if the Charred Council gets to hear about it, they may decide to send the Horsemen – Seals or no Seals – and if they do that will mean a full-scale, three-way war between Law, Chaos and Limbo. With Earth as a battle-ground. Bad news.
"So who's with me?"
Everybody was, and things got organised quickly. The more skilled muggle hunters and wood-wise wesen were sent to scout ahead. The rest followed in a careful formation, wizards and armed muggles watching the flanks and rear, fighters in a solid phalanx in the centre.
The woods seemed empty, unnaturally still, and thought they made good progress, Nick could see the sky to the east beginning to lighten as they came near the Portal. That was when they heard the noise. Roars, screams, hisses, the whinnying of enraged horses.
The scouts came back fast, reporting that the Portal was still spilling out creatures, who were engaged in a battle-royal with what seemed to be an entire herd of Thestrals. There was a hurried conference, and plans were made.
A few minutes later, Dante marched into the clearing and bellowed "YRKOON! Time to play, scumbag!"
With one accord, the Thestrals took to the air, the downbeats of their great wings spreading the stink of the carnage below them across the woods. The moment they were clear, the wizards and muggles, spread in a ring around the clearing, under cover of the woods, opened up a barrage of lead and magic that wrought havoc among the surviving Chaos-beasts.
Dante signalled, and the wesen charged in a solid body while those on the outside turned their fire on the Portal itself, cutting any emerging creatures to ribbons. Things were quite frantic for a few minutes, before the last monster went down under Monroes' mace, and no more tried to emerge from the Portal.
Nick had taken no part in this fight. He couldn't carry the elephant gun, so had left it locked in his car. Armed only with his sword-cane and issue Glock, he had set himself a personal mission. He had made his way around the clearing until he was just behind the spot where Yrkoon stood. Using the noise of the battle as a cover he had slipped down and now stood close behind the demon.
Yrkoon himself looked around, as if assessing the situation. He was surrounded by armed muggles and wizards, facing a troop of battle-hardened wesen, and the Son of Sparda, while above him a herd of Thestrals circled. Then he laughed.
"I can't help but admire you, Dante, and these poor deluded mortals you've persuaded to follow you. But really, you cannot win. Come forth!"
At this command, the Portal heaved and another of the fire-spider creatures clambered out, ignoring the hail of gunfire and spells directed at it. Nick swore to himself, realising he should have entrusted the big gun to Dante or Moreland.
Dante shook his head. "Is that all you've got?" He asked. Then he changed.
It was like a woge, Nick realised. A shedding of the human form to reveal, if only briefly, the true nature within. Dante grew taller, broader, batlike wings sprouted from his shoulders, horns appeared on his forehead, his skin turned black, his eyes red and the white hair flared up like silver flames. Without a word, he took to the air and swooped down on the spider.
The thing responded by spitting a gout of lava at its opponent. Dante thrust out his hands and sent a blast of absolute cold in answer. The two opposed forces met, creating a cloud of steam, out of which Dante dived, his sword held out before him. Rebellions' blade radiated a fierce cold that caused frost to form on the trees and bloodied ground. Effortlessly, Dante drove his sword through the rocky skin into the molten core of the Hell-beast, which screamed as more steam billowed from every crack and joint. For a moment, nothing could be seen, then the fog cleared to reveal Dante, in his normal form, standing over the crumbling shell of his antagonist.
The silence was broken after a moment by ironic applause.
"Bravo, Sparda-son!" Yrkoon called. "There's more of dear old Dad in you than I thought!"
Dante, apparently done talking, drew Ivory and fired a single shot at the demon. Yrkoon flinched, then laughed again. He reached into his chest and plucked out the softly-glowing bullet, holding it up for Dante to see.
"Dear me!" He mocked. "Even with those weapons, you'll need to be more precise than that, my boy!"
Whether the wound had changed something in Yrkoon himself, or whether his Grimm senses had finally kicked in, Nick never knew. But now he saw the demon differently. The form was still man-shaped, but now consisted of a mass of black, wormlike strands or cables that writhed around each other, all linked to a central core. A globe of light that glowed the same blue as the Portal.
Instinctively, Nick knew that this was the spot, the only spot, that would do enough damage to remove Yrkoon. He also knew that lead would not work. It needed to be steel. He pulled the sword out from his cane and thrust once -knowing he would only be permitted the one strike. Pain shot through him immediately, like an electric shock, but he knew he must not relinquish his grip until it was done.
Yrkoon looked down at the foot of blade that protruded from his chest.
"Oh, shit!" He said coolly. "Somebody's too clever by half!" His form shimmered and suddenly, without turning, he was facing Nick. "Not a wizard." He noted. "A Grimm. He didn't tell me there'd be a fucking Grimm."
Then the black worms fell apart and wriggled in a dark mass into the fast-dimming Portal, which itself slowly darkened until it was nothing but a hole in the ground.
"Nice work, Nick." Dante told him.
Nick managed a grin, then slumped back against a tree and slid slowly to a sitting position. Monroe was at his side in an instant.
"Dude," he said, "you look awful! What happened to your sword?"
Nick looked. He still held the handle, but there was only about eight inches of blade left, blackened and crumbling.
"It happens." Dante had come up. "Mortals can't go stabbing demons with mortal weapons and expect to get away scott-free. If you weren't a Grimm, you'd be dead, pal, and I'd be on Harrys' naughty list. Not anywhere I want to be."
Then suddenly he looked around, and moved off a few paces. "Show yourself!" He barked.
There was a short pause, then a tall, slender, bald man in a brown suit appeared out of nowhere and clapped his hands.
"Well done, Dante! When I first knew you, you wouldn't recognise a spell if it bit you!"
"Arkham." Dante growled. "I thought you were dead."
"Oh, I was." Arkham said off-handedly. "But you know, death is quite like sex. If you think it's likely to happen, a wise man makes sure he has the necessary protection. Or, as the old wizard proverb does not say, 'a horcrux a day keeps the Reaper away'. You should ask your friend Harry Potter about that."
Then suddenly, Arkham was in the air, somersaulting over Dante to land behind him with a raised knife. But Dante was faster, and the blade of Rebellion was at Arkhams' throat before he had his balance back.
"You're as good as ever, old man." Dante told him.
Arkham carefully let the coldly-glowing knife fall from his hand.
"And you have improved greatly, Dante." He said with barely a tremor in his voice. "Well, never mind. Even if that Portal is closed, it will have left a little more weakness behind it. Thinned the barriers a little more. Not forgetting the fear, of course. You can adjust memories all you like, but that little maggot of fear still stays there, in the subconscious. Every little helps, this close to the Dark Cycle.
"Give Mary my love, won't you?"
Arkham took a step back, gave an ironic bow, then vanished.
"Son of a bitch!" Dante exploded. "Why do these guys never stay dead?"
Nick's mind thronged with questions, but for some reason his mouth wasn't working. Then everything went black.
Nick slept for twenty-four hours straight, and woke feeling thoroughly rested and well. Needless to say, there had been developments. The FBS had done the rounds, adjusting memories. Everyone remembered volunteering to hunt down a pack of rogue wolves, and having a fairly hairy time in the woods. Everybody recalled making new friends, including a cop called Nick and a professional hunter called Dante (weird name, but whatever). But nobody who shouldn't knew anything about wizards or wesen; such things, after all, did not exist.
He was disappointed to learn that Dante had left the morning after all the excitement, saying only that he had stuff to do. Still, he supposed that demon-hunters didn't keep regular hours any more than cops did.
So life went on. Nick's ankle healed, he went back to proper duty, and to helping out wesen in trouble.
Then a few weeks later, there was a knock on the door one Sunday evening, and Nick opened it to see the towering form of Dante in the porch.
They talked for a long time. Dante explained that Arkham had been one of the first truly dangerous foes he had faced, back in his late teens, and was the man responsible for the loss of his twin brother, Vergil. Dante had wanted to know how Arkham had survived, and had consulted with Harry Potter about it.
"I also," he told Nick, "needed to know how he got hold of a Morgul-knife – that glowing dagger. They were supposed to have all been destroyed back in the Third Age. But it seems that there are more caches of ancient artefacts and weapons around the world than we ever knew about. Gives me a new sideline."
They also talked about the Dark Cycle. It seemed that the boundaries between the Realms were growing thinner and frailer, as they did every few centuries. "It's a dangerous enough time if people leave it alone." Dante told Nick. "But if they start monkeying around, things can get very nasty. We need to keep our eyes open."
Finally, Dante had a souvenir for Nick.
"You lost your swordstick." He said. "So I had a pal of mine, Duncan, look around. He does antiques." He produced a long, thin parcel wrapped in paper that featured drawings of young ladies in various states of undress and a variety of provocative poses.
"I chose the paper myself." Dante told him, with a mischievous grin.
Nick unwrapped the parcel, finding inside a beautiful dark wood cane, with a silver top and ferrule.
"Wow!" He said.
Dante grinned again. "Like it?" He asked. "Duncan told me it belonged to some English aristocrat, Lord Peter Wimsey, who did some detective work on the side. If you look, it's marked out in feet and inches on one side, and metres and centimetres on the other. There's a compass under a lid in the handle, and of course a sword inside it."
"A Swiss Army cane?" Nick was impressed. "It's great! I'm sorry I've nothing to give you."
"Well, there is one thing." Dante said. "You could give me a look at that big gun of yours. I just got to get me one of those!"
"Well, it's in my trailer." Nick said. "We could go over there now?"
"Sounds good!" Dante said.
They got up, and Juliette appeared in the kitchen doorway with a six-pack dangling from one elegant finger.
"You'll need these, guys!" She said. "Don't forget to pick Monroe up, and remember you're driving, Nick!"
End