"You played picture parlor games growing up. I practiced 'bird-through-the-window' at the circus."

  "Really? You must tell me all about it. . . ."

  His head and arms hanging down Cadmus's broad back, Terrin emitted a heartfelt groan of pain.

  * * *

  Back in the Succubus Chamber

  I surprised me, myself, and I in a major way. I would never have thought anyone capable of doing it with so many women, so many times, so close together, but it happened: I actually lost count. This was way beyond what I expected even with the advantage of cat genes floating around my cells.

  Of course, being dead might have had an influence on things. It's very freeing. Alive, I might not have been too eager to jump the bones of a bunch of succubae, but dead, the horns and tails and eye-straining color and all the rest just made them that much cuter to me. I honestly couldn't tell one from another, but that didn't seem to bother them.

  But there came a point, finally, and I don't know how many hours later, when I had enough and wanted a break. They then insisted on making absolutely sure that I was completely tired out, which was very fun, but afterwards I dozed for real and nothing they could do would wake me. They eventually gave up and followed suit. We lay sprawled over each other like a pile of gerbils.

  The last time I'd slept had been the upper room at Clem's Place, which seemed ages ago. I slipped off easily now, into the best, most restful snooze I'd ever enjoyed. I was aware of it, strangely conscious of being asleep and relishing every moment. It came to an end much too soon. There was some annoying dude snoring away like a slow buzz saw, and he woke me up.

  Squinting and grumpy, I looked around for him, but the chamber was empty, as in being completely gone. No glowing orange demon lesbian babes looking to be converted to the straight life for a little while, no soft, squashy bed for a floor. The brassy blue limbo was back, my sight limited to a couple yards in any direction, all of them the same.

  "Not again." I said aloud, feeling disappointed. My voice still sounded flat, kind of like the snoring. I began to realize I'd wakened myself. I was on featureless blue ground surrounded by my discarded clothes. "Yo! Girls! Wanna go for seconds? Come and get me, ready or not!"

  No reply. I wondered if they'd run true to the rumors I'd heard, and instead of spending hours with them my whole experience had been just minutes in duration, like a dream. Maybe only seconds. Dream encounters were tricky things when it came to time.

  "Hallo? I say, anyone there?"

  Shock time. It was a man's voice calling out from not too far away. I hoped he wasn't an incubus. I scrambled to my feet and hastily grabbed for clothes.

  "Hallo?" he said. "Speak again please. It's rather hard to navigate in this fog."

  He sounded closer. I had my pants on, though, and made a start on my socks and boots. "I'm over here. Who are you?"

  A man's form emerged out of the blueness. He was a little taller than me, even features, dark hair, wearing an old brown tunic and a long, heavy robe. His eyes were closed.

  "It's okay, I'm decent," I told him.

  "Eh?"

  "You can open your eyes."

  "Oh, I forgot." He blinked benignly. "I see more with them shut, you know."

  No, I didn't. I flared my lip whiskers and wondered if he'd cracked under pressure. "Are you Overduke Anton?"

  "I used to be."

  Fair enough, considering what he'd been through, being body-napped and all. He gave me a thorough study as I finished dressing. Most people do the curious stare routine and ask questions. Not this dude.

  "I had a vision about you," he said, as though commenting about the weather. "Lord Cadmus was in it. And Lord Botello. You wouldn't happen to know where either of them might be, do you?"

  "Left Cadmus in the Blue Room at Darmo House. Don't know about Botello. Your girlfriend's looking for you."

  His face eased into a relieved smile. "Velma's all right?"

  "Last I saw, she was." Gawd knows what had happened since. "We were trying to find you. They sent me to Hell, but my astral thread got cut, so I'm kind of dead . . . is this making any sense to you?"

  "Oh, bags of it, my dear fellow. I should inform you that you're not dead, just bodily displaced."

  "I'm. Not. Dead?"

  "You're disappointed?"

  "Well, I was just getting used to the idea."

  "You may have to again if we can't take ourselves back to the Reality plane. If you stay here too much longer death could become a permanent condition for you."

  Bummer. I'd have to find a way home. Quick. "Can you get me back?"

  "I don't know."

  Double bummer. "What about the Hell-river? Any way you can fix that mess? I got a friend who really needs you to do that for him."

  "As a matter of fact, I've an idea to try, but we must locate Cadmus and Botello."

  "They're in the Reality plane."

  He closed his eyes a moment. "No, they aren't. Not any more."

  "Where are they?" Was he telepathic?

  "Damn, but they have put a wedge in the works. Unless it was meant to happen. There's so many variables, and they're all open to interpretation . . . or misinterpretation."

  "Hah?"

  Eyes open. "Not to worry. What's your name, sir?"

  "Myhr. Rhymes with purr—"

  He chuckled. "How fitting. Well, Myhr, would you mind very much lending me a hand before the world ends? There's a good fellow."

  He walked off. Eyes shut again.

  He had cracked. And I was catching it. I went after him.

  * * *

  Darmo House

  Debreban looked down at Myhr's body, mourning with vast regret. What a rotten waste. What a rotten situation. If he'd only been able to stop Botello or even delayed him for a few seconds, it would have made a world of difference.

  Literally.

  Shankey, who had taken the catastrophic news rather well, shook his head. "Wonder why he didn't get dragged in with the others?"

  Velma shrugged, looking very miserable. "Maybe because his astral self was already there? I dunno. But the rest went in, whoosh. If Drebbie here hadn't grabbed me I'd have gone too."

  Debreban winced at the inaccurate diminutive, but kept quiet. It was better than being called "Debbrie."

  "Metaphysical things," she continued. "Who can understand that kind of stuff? Poor Anton's got some company at least. Maybe they can all hook up together on the Otherside and figure something out."

  "If Lord Botello doesn't kill them," Debreban added cheerlessly. Or if they're not all dead from the storm. "What do we do now?"

  Shankey went over to the discarded pavilion and pulled a length of black velvet from the pile. They caught onto his intent and helped him straighten the fabric, then solemnly draped it over the body.

  "We say a prayer for the dead," he announced. "Then we find Lord Perdle and tell him what's going on."

  "Maybe . . ." said Velma, "maybe we could try a séance ourselves. Just to see if anyone's there."

  "Won't that be dangerous?" Debreban didn't care to further involve himself with such dark doings.

  Shankey nodded, but seemed thoughtful. "Yeah. But if the world's gonna end soon like Terrin told me, what have we got to lose?"

  "No, I don't think we should. We need to go to Lord Perdle, and then help with the fire." Debreban went to one of the narrow windows. The glow in the distance hadn't grown, but neither had it shrunk. Perhaps they'd gotten it under control and confined. Few places in Rumpock were far from the river, and if the Watch had the pumps going in time . . . and, "What the hell is that?"

  "What's wrong?" Shankey came up.

  Debreban pointed. "Do you see anything?"

  Velma joined them. "Uh-oh. That's bad, right?"

  The city appeared to be flooded with an undulating black fog through all her streets and ways. It bumped and washed against the gates of Darmo House like an impatient tide.

  "Oh, yeah, that's bad," said Shankey. "That's what all the Talents have been in a twist over. We don't have Talent, so we should not be able to see it. I think something really awful has happened on the Otherside."

  "Séance anyone?" suggested Velma.

  Chapter Nineteen

  In Hell

  "Shouldn't we be seeing some demons about now?" Filima asked.

  "Let's be glad that we haven't." Cadmus had quite enough on his plate; he didn't care to be dealing with demons just yet, thank you very much.

  "But they should be all over the place. If they're not, then where did they go?"

  Cadmus was reluctant to voice the idea that Botello had rounded them up and would soon descend in a surprise attack. And for that matter where had Botello taken himself? There wasn't a surfeit of cover around here; a few scraggly, thorny growths that might loosely be described as trees was the limit of the scenery, along with some rocks.

  "Party," mumbled Terrin behind him.

  "What's that?" asked Velma.

  "They gonna party."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Wha'dya think? Get me to th' dam' river. An' tell Godzilla boy t' stop bumpin' me so much!"

  "Cadmus, we have to hurry!"

  "Right-oh!" he said, and began to trot.

  * * *

  In Limbo

  "Hey!" I said. "Check it out! My sword and the crystal!" I darted to one side and snagged them from where they lay on the flat blue ground, none the worse for wear, not even scratched.

  Anton kept walking. "I'd wondered whose those were," he said. His eyes were still shut. "They skittered toward me in some strong wind that came through. Stopped right at my feet just a few minutes ago."

  Minutes? So all that action with the succubae and my long nap had been a time-compressed dream? No way, no way. I had to have been in a space opera-style time warp or pocket or whatever they called those things. It had happened, and I was walking funny to prove it. "Why didn't you pick them up?"

  "They weren't mine. Besides, I sensed the sword had some cold iron in it and might not be good for me to handle. Disrupts one's Talent, you know. I'm out of magic now as it is. Crystals are even trickier. Never know what energies are stored in the pesky things. Best to leave them lay until one's been properly introduced."

  "Is it going to be a problem for you if I hang on to them?"

  "Don't think so; just avoid whacking me with either one and we should get along fine."

  I looked over the crystal for any sign of light. It had a normal weight now. "Myhr to Enterprise, come in. Time to beam me up. Terrin? You out there, dude? Hello?" No answering voice popped into my head.

  "Wants to be charged up again," said Anton.

  "I told Terrin it needed new batteries." I shoved it in a pocket and got a solid grip on the sword. Didn't know what good it'd do me at the moment, but I felt better having it along.

  "Terrin's your wizard friend?"

  "Yeah. He was anchoring my astral body. The line snapped, and I don't know why. I think Botello might have interrupted the circle."

  "Yes, that would explain some of the things I've seen and sensed. Is Terrin a short fellow with white hair?"

  Jeez, I was walking with Anton-Wan Kenobi. "Last time I saw. This magic drain did stuff to him, messed him up. You can see him?"

  "I've caught a glimpse or two. He's on this Side. Over in the Hell plane."

  I snorted. "That's practically his home turf. Probably having a party."

  "Don't think so. Cadmus is carrying him."

  My guts made a swoop. "He's not dead, is he?"

  "No, Filima's talking to him, but he doesn't look at all well."

  "She's here, too? Who else?"

  Anton shook his head. "Sorry. Just brief pictures of them. But we must move more quickly."

  So we picked up the pace. "How is it you can see like that?"

  "It's my Gift. Been rather a bother, but turning out to be useful here. In the Reality plane the visions come through clear, but are not always specific in their meanings. The Powers That Be have to limit our Otherside knowledge or it throws off the balance. They sent me some warnings, but no explanations. Best they could do, I fear."

  He was sounding like Terrin, but more refined in his language. "You don't go running around the Reality plane like that, do you? With your eyes shut?"

  "Oh, certainly not. The rules are a tad different on this side. I've been shown and told some interesting things, not all of them good."

  "Like what?"

  "Hard to explain."

  "Can you tell me about the Hell-river?"

  "It started with Botello."

  "He invented it?"

  "Goodness, no, but his magical experiments caused something of a metaphysical earthquake, which brought it flowing into the Reality plane when the veils are thinnest, at night. The Overlords in the Hell plane were naturally upset at first, then saw it as a means to escape."

  "Into the Reality plane?"

  "Into any plane. You've seen their place—would you want to spend eternity there?"

  Good point. "Can't these Powers keep them in?"

  "That's what the Hell-river's for, serves as a boundary between the planes. It holds a store of magical energy, which is what confines the demons. They can't use magic themselves, but are very familiar with it, like a horse with a bridle. They're always eager to manipulate people like Botello into serving their ends while pretending themselves to serve. He has ambition, a weakness they exploited, but he has always been a trifle short on imagination. Tends to dismiss the obvious."

  "Which was?"

  "That he just wasn't up to the task. Thought himself special. Stupid bugger. What he's managed to do is botch up the balance. One living being thrown into Hell the wrong way—which is what happened with Botello—is what upset things. It made quite a stir, I can tell you. Brought him no end of attention. The Powers are very specific about protocol. The only way you are supposed to get into Hell is through the proper channels. You have to die, go through a bit of processing with the Powers, and if you're really deserving punishment, off you fly through the Gate."

  Who would have thought line-breaking could be taken so seriously? On the other hand, who was that eager to break into Hell? "Why didn't the Powers just get him out?"

  "They didn't know he was there. The Inner Overlords were hiding him, hoping he could do something to help them escape using the river. Normally it flows in a circle. Any being who tries to cross it is brought right back again. But suddenly the Hell-river vanished from Hell, an unthinkable disaster, and any unshielded Talents in the Reality plane unfortunate enough to be in its path were sucked in. It has quite a store of magical energy from them. That's upset things, too."

  "They all died?"

  "Not as such."

  "Bodily displaced?"

  "Close enough. Only there were no bodies left behind. The holes made when they vanished just knitted up, memories were adjusted. The Powers had a hand in that, an emergency measure to keep people from a panic. The missing Talents are imprisoned in the Hell-river, and it wants correcting."

  "Would that leave the astral plane empty, too?"

  "Look for yourself," he said, gesturing at the blue limbo around us. "Bloody boring, isn't it? The Powers shut everything down so they could better spot any demons who might get through."

  No wonder those succubae had been so lonely.

  "Now the river flows nightly in the Reality plane. So far, beings in the river when it vanishes from Hell are left behind when it shifts course, but that's about to change. Several more living souls have been pulled into Hell—with their bodies—and that has created a link to the Reality plane. Very shortly the Hell-river is going to shift course and be flowing in both directions at once. Then the demons will be able to escape. Well, it's just not the done thing."

  "No, of course not," I said faintly.

  "So we're going to find Botello, get me back into my proper body, and try to put things right again."

  "What about the overlords?" Who and whatever they were. "What about the demons?"

  "I'm sure you can take care of them."

  It was news to me. "Huh?"

  "Your sword—"

  "Is borrowed! I'm a lover, not a fighter. I didn't do too well on that side of the Gate. One of those demons nearly got me."

  "But you fought it off."

  "I gave it a paper cut, but nothing that would stop it. That thing was huge." I anticipated that overlords were even bigger and meaner.

  "How huge?"

  "Like a bulldozer."

  "What's that?"

  "Okay, like a small building. A tall, small building. With arms and teeth."

  He smiled. "When it's time I'm sure you'll be up to the task."

  "Wish I had your confidence about it."

  "You will."

  "Hah?"

  "Remember where you are. Desire for something can make it occur."

  "Really?" News to me.

  "Your desires will affect the objects and beings already here, or rather there. When we get to the Gate you'll see. The demons do it all the time, but not for anything pleasant. They're not very smart. Cunning, but not smart."

  "Why didn't Terrin tell me that?"

  Anton shrugged. "He might not have known. You two aren't from around here are you?"

  "You could say that and then some."

  "Ah. Likely used to different rules. They change from world to world, you know."

  He was spooking me. Seemed to know a lot more than he should. I wanted to find out just how much, but had to focus on the current situation. "How do I do this?"

  "Just think of what you want, but it has to be based in this side. You won't materialize a cup of tea, because that's not here."

  "Work with what's at hand?"

  "Yes."

  "Why haven't you done any of that to get out?"

  "Because I'm in the wrong body, and escaping is a bit more complex. That's why Botello couldn't escape. Well, here's the Gate. Gird up."

  * * *

  On the Other Side of the Gate

  "Looks like Botello's run afoul of the chaps here," said Cadmus.

  Behind the questionable cover of a tree, he and Filima watched some rather tense proceedings going on close to the great Gate. A hair-raising and stomach-churning collection of terrifically ugly creatures—demons—were gathered there, the lot of them focused on the interplay between one of their own and Botello. He was presently engulfed in the grasp of that creature, his legs dangling some ten feet from the ground. He appeared to be doing a lot of fast talking.