“What happened?”
“We know where she is. We just have to figure out how to get there.” Smoky flashed an impassive look my way. “She’s being held in a small outpost in the Sub-Realms. And we ascertained that as of yet, she hasn’t been hurt in any lasting way. Shadow Wing’s busy with his anti-knights and while he sent a demand for ransom to you via the Varcont, he hasn’t had time to inspect Nerissa himself.”
“How do we get there? Where’s the outpost?” I jumped up, running over to Roman, who opened his arms to welcome me in.
“We have to find someone who can create a Demon Gate, then go through to the Subterranean Realms to find her. We have the coordinates needed to do so.” Vanzir paused, then added, “The Varcont won’t be causing any more problems.”
I shuddered slightly. I could smell the blood on Roman’s lips, and his eyes were bright, like they always were after he fed. He felt twitchy to me, and I realized that feeding on a Greater vampire had to have had an effect on him. I had drunk demon’s blood several times, and it always charged me up in a way that was hard to describe. Think of it as putting high-octane fuel in a car that was used to regular.
“That leaves us the question of how we find someone who can create a Demon Gate for us, someone we can trust?” I glanced around at Delilah and Camille.
“That’s simple enough,” Delilah said. “Wilbur can do it.”
And just like that, I realized that we were actually going to head deep into the Sub-Realms to rescue my wife.
Chapter 16
Wilbur’s house was close to ours. By the time we arrived, it was two in the morning and Martin opened the door. Wilbur had been in the Special Forces, stationed down in South America where he first learned necromancy. Now he was a one-legged mountain man stuck in the city, and I had the feeling he was lonelier than hell. Hanging with a ghoul—even when it had been your brother—didn’t provide much interaction. And Wilbur’s social skills were dreadfully lacking.
Martin recognized us. He was kind of like a dog who had been trained that certain people were safe not to bark at, or attack. He let us in, then shuffled toward a room off the living room. Camille crossed the doorway and turned to Roman. “Enter and be welcome.”
And just like that, Roman was able to enter the house. It occurred to me that it might be a good idea for people to have a talk with their friends about inviting strangers into the house. In general, it was a dangerous idea, but even more so if the stranger turned out to be a vampire.
Wilbur used to sleep upstairs but now, probably because of his leg, he seemed to find it easier to use the downstairs bedroom. A few minutes later, one very grumpy mountain man appeared. Wilbur resembled the boys of ZZ Top, only a bit bigger and burlier, and he didn’t dress nearly as nice. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a baggy top and his hair was all shades of messy, including the massive beard.
He rubbed his eyes, staring at us blurrily. “What the hell do you want at this time of night?”
“We need you to create a Demon Gate that will allow us to travel to the Subterranean Realms so I can rescue Nerissa.” The words came streaming out of me as though I had just lost my supper and vomited all over the floor.
Wilbur blinked and scratched his balls. He was not one for niceties or manners. “I think you’d better sit down and start making some sense.” As he headed back into the living room, we followed. I wanted him to just get on with it, but I also understood just how delicate a spell it was, and how much energy was required. One did not just gate open a doorway to hell, so to speak. At least, not unless one had a good reason, craziness notwithstanding.
We settled in the living room. Wilbur cleared his throat and blinked, squinting at Roman. “Do we know each other?”
“I don’t believe so, and I’d prefer to keep it that way,” Roman said, grinning at Wilbur. “But this is not the likely outcome; therefore, allow me to—”
“Just give me your fucking name, dude, and stop prancing like a pony.” Yeah, that was our Wilbur. Blunt as always and more than a little bit rude.
“Roman, Lord of the Vampire Nation.”
That seemed to make an impact. Wilbur subtly shifted, his eyes widening. “I think I need some coffee.” He turned to Camille. “Sweet cheeks, would you and your gorgeous bouncing boobs make me some?” His eyes were glued to her cleavage. Again, Wilbur to the core.
She just gave him a disgusted look, then laughed and pushed herself to her feet. “Trust me, you don’t want to mess with my boobs. They’re dangerous in the wrong hands.” And with that cryptic remark, she vanished into the kitchen.