Even though Kali had lost her other powers, she was still physically overwhelming and capable of shape-shifting, and some of the vampires went flying, while a couple more got dusted.  But, as it looked like Kali might get a chance to make a break for it, her arms were seized, and it took Logan a moment to realize it was the Sisters who'd grabbed her. Before Kali could react, they both jumped up, kicked against Kali’s side and lunged backwards, ripping her arms not only out of their sockets, but completely off her body.

Kali looked shocked to come apart like the Black Knight, and she didn’t even scream; she just stared at the bloody holes with her mouth agape.

“Did I just see that?” He asked Helga, fighting to keep his own jaw from dropping.

“Yeah.  They’re famous for it.”

“Huh?”

“You didn’t know?  The Weirds are notorious for their dismemberment routine.  If you’re lucky, they’ll play with you.  If you’re not, they’ll just rip your arms off and beat you to death with them.”

He had heard that, but he'd just assumed it was an expression. “I guess that explains why everyone’s afraid of them.”

Helga nodded in agreement. “Pretty much says it all, doesn’t it?”

As the vampires quickly descended on the disarmed (the pun was unavoidable) Kali en masse, she disappeared under the swarm with barely even a scream.  She was just too stunned to even put up much
of a fight - well, what fight she could put up without arms.  (It didn’t automatically render you helpless - he’d fought without use of his arms before.  But then again, he’d only been handcuffed; maybe he’d have been much more incapacitated if his arms had actually been ripped off.) She was a shapeshifter, though, and could theoretically grow them back like her “children”, but the vamps weren’t about to give her the time to recover.

Logan honestly wished he could get in there and join them, but he was starting to feel as light-headed as his gut felt heavy.  It continued to burn like a slow fire, and it was the only thing keeping his body warm.

In spite of that, he hadn’t realized he was shivering until Helga put an arm around his shoulder and drew him closer to her.  “Shit, she really got you, didn’t she?”

He wasn’t sure what she meant … or was he?  It was fairly self-evident, wasn’t it?  He should have never gotten close enough for Kali to touch him. “You could say that.”

“Amaranth!” She shouted, looking around.  “Damn it, where is she?”

He gave the area a cursory glance, but if she'd gotten herself knocked flat, she could be under any of the assorted piles of bodies or body parts.  He didn’t think she was dead, as she was one of Bob’s relatives, and one of his more stubborn ones at that.  They couldn’t die; they probably scared death shitless.  He could imagine the death gods’ general fear of nagging and being micromanaged by the offspring of Oberon.

(Come to think of it, that whole thing with Kali explained why Angel never went after the Weirds.  He probably valued his arms too much.)

“Come on, lay back,” Helga urged, pulling him down gently.  “Don’t let gravity help you bleed out.”

She was right, so he obeyed, discovering that the pain pulsed through him deeply every time he moved, and something inside him felt torn.  He almost blacked out as Hel cradled his head in her lap, shouting, “Ammy, damn it, where are you?!  I’m almost your step- grandmother - don’t make me beat your ass!”

Logan closed his eyes and watched the blood vessels inside his lids throb in time with his heartbeat, realizing it was almost synched up with the sound of Kali’s flesh - or whatever it was - being ripped away by the vampires, who snarled and growled like a pack of angry wolves.  He bet the Sisters were probably pretty happy with themselves;  they'd put the big hurt on Kali, possibly the killing blow of a really nasty-ass god.  Of course, knowing them, it wasn’t even the first time.

Helga was stroking his forehead, but he could barely feel it.  He was falling away into himself, away from the pain, and it was nice.  Odd how the absence of pain could almost be pleasure.

He wondered, if he did die now, would he see Mariko?  Bob could have been lying about an afterlife; maybe he just didn’t want him rushing headlong into it.

22

There was darkness for a time, soothing in its numbness, but then he got a sense of … something unusual, a sense of being pulled along by a familiar energy, a sense of something he needed to do.

He had a feeling of breaking through the surface, even though he knew himself to be disembodied (a dream?), and a hallucination slowly formed before his eyes. His first impression was of green, but it wasn’t the land, it was light; green shot through with crimson. The sky was the color of blood, but the clouds were the color of mold, and the light that filtered through was gangrenous.

The land was covered with broken, charred, and sun baked bones from dozens of different kinds of beasts, with rib cages as large as boulders sticking up like railroad spikes, and the flesh of god knew how many demonic beasties decomposing in the corroded light. Logan was glad he couldn’t smell it, because he bet it was pretty damn rank. Whatever had happened here, it looked like the aftermath of a war - blood had soaked into the ground and turned it as black as swamp mud.

He saw the body of a large demon that looked like a cross between a Berserker and Godzilla, with leathery skin the color of ochre, and saw something moving beside it. It formed into a tall, dark figure pulling
hard to remove a sword from its side. “ - cheeses, or just one of their minions?”  A familiar voice asked.  Who was that?

The figure finally managed to dislodge the sword from the eight foot demon, and said, “I’m thinking minion.  They seem to be avoiding us.” The voice ... Angel?

Yes, it was.  He could see him now, sans his usual long coat, with torn clothes stained by the blood of dozens of things, including some of his own. He hoisted the blood slicked sword to his shoulder and looked around, as if scanning for more enemies.  His posture was weary, but
his dark eyes remained sharp and alert.

“They’re cowards,” a female voice said, It had an oddly flat cadence, as if she wasn’t accustomed to the language, and it was full to bursting with anger and arrogance. “They think they can hide.”  It belonged to a woman standing on top of another demonzilla corpse, who on cursory glance appeared Human, but blue scales freckled her forehead and tainted her otherwise brown hair, nearly matching the blue of her emotionless eyes.  It wasn’t a Bob blue, but it was close, and he thought she was giving off a familiar, semi-divine vibe.  Her leather uniform was also blood spattered, but not torn at all, and she didn’t appear tired in the least. “They think they can escape the inevitable.  They’re idiots.”

There was a scoff, and someone who had been sitting on the ground near one of the titanic corpses used it to stagger to his feet.  “Pretty clever idiots.  We haven’t caught up to ‘em yet.”  Spike.  He too was in shirtsleeves, lacking his usual coat, and just as bloody as everyone else, but perhaps slightly more so, because he currently had a bleeding gash in his side, and appeared to be limping slightly.

“We will,” Angel averred.  He sounded like he believed it.

“And they will choke to death on their own entrails.” The woman agreed.

Spike snorted and shook his head, patting his pockets as if searching for smokes. “I bet you’re a ball at parties, Smurfette.”

The woman cocked her head to the side, as if listening to a signal only she could hear, and said, “There’s someone here.”

Angel held his sword at the ready, and Spike rolled his eyes, abandoning his search for a smoke, and yanked what looked like a spear out of a near by corpse.  “Where are they?” Angel asked, looking around, frantically trying to take in everything at once.

“It’s not demonic,” she said, sounding confused.

Similarly confused looks passed between Spike and Angel, but Angel asked her first, “What is it then?”

The woman did not answer.  She simply gazed at their surroundings, and Logan realized she was talking about him the moment before her eyes settled on him.  They were wide and so utterly devoid of anything Human, he wondered what she was exactly.  And what was he?  He knew he had no physicality here, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have some kind of … well, projection, maybe.

(But, okay, was this a dream or not?  He could hardly astral project into different dimensions, even if he was dead.  Wait … if Kali died, it negated her hold on Bob, right? Did it also negate what she did to him? Did he get Bob’s power back in a rush?)

Logan felt her eyes like knives impaling him to the spot, but there was no actual malice.  She had no idea who he was, but didn’t consider
him a threat - yet.  Spike followed her gaze, and he seemed to do the slightest double take, squinting as if to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing.  “What the fuck..?”

Angel looked at him, and his eyes widened in obvious shock.  He started walking towards him cautiously, as if he was a shy animal he might scare away, and dug the sword into the ground, leaving it behind. Logan almost said something, but what could he say?  ‘Are we all still alive?’ ‘Do you know where we are?’  ‘Where the hell have you been?’ ‘ Do you have the slightest idea what the fuck is going on?’

“Lo -” Angel began to say, peering at him curiously, but that was as far as he got.  Logan suddenly felt something like an elastic band suddenly boomeranging him back, out from the black and into a blue as bright as a supergiant star.

Opening his eyes, he found himself staring up at a familiar face. “Thanks for the help, mate...” Bob said, giving him his usual Cheshire Cat grin.

He sat up, Bob’s hand falling off his chest, and Logan took in everything around them.  Skink god was gone, and so was Kali, although she may have been those black smears in the dirt and along the path.  There were still some corpses and gruesome fragments of body parts, but about two dozen vampires were still alive and loitering near the trees again, some clearly nursing injuries that wouldn’t be too easy to shake off.  The Sisters were near by, though, still looking oddly bright and cheery in that completely fucked up way of theirs.  Ammy was sitting on a wrought iron bench, rubbing her head (she must have been clocked by somebody - or something), and Helga was still sitting in the dirt beside him, but she was no longer bleeding.  Logan didn’t even need to look to know he wasn’t bleeding either - clearly Kali had died before he was completely lost, and Bob had shown up in time to yank him back from the edge.

“I guess I don’t need to ask if we won,” Logan muttered, dry washing his face.

“Won and done,” Bob agreed. “And all things considered, it must have been humiliatin’.  Killed by vampires.  Gods get hazed for that kinda thing.”

“But -”

“- we -”

“- get the -”

“ - job done -”

“- better than them.”

Bob nodded, conceding the point.  He looked oddly sparky, as if this whole thing had simply been a restful vacation for him instead of an assassination attempt.  “Yes, you do, but ya know that just adds to it.” Even though he didn’t ask, he helped Logan up to his feet.  Bob gave him an unusual look, a single quirk of an eyebrow that said a lot.
“What is it, mate?”

He glanced at Hel, not sure Bob would be totally straight with him. “Did
I die?”

She looked surprised, which could have been a good sign or a bad one. “Today?  No.  You were dying, but like many men, refused to commit. Why?”

He shook his head, but Bob asked, “See somthin’?”  It was not actually
a question.

Logan sighed, and wondered if he should tell them, but Bob could just yank the info out if he wanted to.  “Can you … is it possible, with your powers, to look into another dimension?”

Bob pondered that, looking slightly stumped. “Ya mean like, psychic projecting?  Yeah, I can do that.  Did you do that?”

“I think … I dunno.” He told them what he had “seen”, and the Sisters drifted over, seemingly rapt by his tale.  After he finished, no one said anything, so he threw up his hands in defeat, and asked, “Well?  Was I hallucinating or what?  I didn‘t recognize that blue chick.”

“It’s quite plausible,” Bob told him, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s possible that a sudden power surge, coupled by your desire to find out what happened to Angel … yeah, that could’ve happened.”

“So where are they?” He wondered. “Can you find them?”

Bob sighed, and crossed his arms over his chest, grimacing in a way that Logan didn’t think was good.  “My guess is they’re in some hell dimension, probably one of the Senior Partners’ main vacation spots. Considering they’re still alive and don’t seem to be hurting, my guess
is it was a ploy by the Partners to wipe them out, a trap that clearly backfired.  Maybe the Powers finally got off their omnipotent asses and threw a little protection his way.  Maybe they knew all along that the Partners would try something like this, and certainly Angel - stubborn bastard that he is - would try and take them on, and in their own damn backyard too.  You gotta love cajones like that.”

“It’s -”

“- amazing -”

“- he’s never -”

“- been staked.”

That made Helga frown at them dubiously. “What about you two?”

They gave her those wonderfully empty stereo grins, the ones that made you want to crawl under a bed and hide for a few years. “Everyone’s -”

“- welcome -”

“- to try.”

“Uh...finding them?” Logan prompted.

As he'd feared, Bob shook his head.  “The Partners exist in several dimensions at once, and it would be impossible to narrow it down to one.  And I hate to tell ya this, but I’m not as good a bloodhound as you are.”

“Also, don’t they hate you?” Helga added.

“The Partners?” Bob shrugged. “Well, who doesn’t hate me at this rate?”

“But if I can find them accidentally, why can’t you?”

“I don’t have the connection to Angel that you have, for starters.  And, two …” Bob paused, biting his lower lip nervously.  “Well, that might have been a little bonus thrown your way.”

“Huh?  By who?”

Strangely enough, it was the Weirds who answered first, their odd eyes sparkling with a malevolent sort of glee. “The -”

“- Powers -”

“- have a -”

“- vacancy they -”

“- need to fill -”

“- and you’re the -”

“- bettor’s choice.”

It took him a minute to understand that, although considering it was from the Sisters, that was probably normal.  Okay, Angel had supposedly gotten sucked into helping the Powers That Be, even though it didn’t seem to help him too much.  The PTB’s seemed like arrogant god types that preferred other people to do their dirty work, which was par for the course, and Bob was supposedly their “fallen” member, and they weren’t fond of him at all.  But Logan already had a connection to Bob, and there wasn’t a huge logical leap there.  “Oh, hell no!” Logan snapped, instantly furious. “I’m tired of bein’ somebody’s puppet!  No fucking way!”

Helga patted him on the back. “Maybe they won’t even approach you. No one can predict what they’ll do; they’re gods, after all.”

It was a small hope, but at least it was something.  “Right.  Besides, I’m a killer.  Somehow, I don’t think that makes me an ideal spokesperson or whatever.”

“So -”

“- was -”

“- Angel, that’s -”

“- why they -”

“- picked him. They -”

“- want warriors for -”

“- the cause, ones who -”

“- want to atone for -”

“- their sins.” The Sisters volleyed, still grinning at him.

Logan glared at them, not appreciating the parallels, or the bad feelings that the memories brought.  “There’s some things you can’t atone for, no matter how long you try.”

“Don’t be too sure about that,” Bob said, giving him that wise ‘I know more than you’ look that Logan honestly despised.  He wanted to rip it off his face and stomp on it like a cigarette butt.

He settled for glowering at him instead, muttering, “Tell them 'no' on my behalf, okay?”  He then stalked off towards the bench, where his t-shirt remained draped on the back, unharmed, perhaps the only thing in a half mile radius that was.

Some ironies were just too much to deal with.

*****

The core group of Hashim’s vampire mob survived, including Camilla, Hashim’s wife (whose name was Ghita), and the Asian Scottish vampire (whose name was - of course - Scott), who somehow ended up with part of a broken sword lodged in him, and cursed like Groundskeeper Willie on a bender when they ripped it out of him.  He also passed out for a bit, but they just carried him off like a sack of potatoes.

All in all, it had gone well.  Hashim did lose some of his people, but was pleased to kill a god and put a crimp in the Three Dragons’ plans (Logan was secretly glad that he reminded him he’d said that).  Hashim thought that Lady Blood would be proud of him as an envoy, as he had a lot of guts “for a Human”.  He felt like he was being patted on the head and told he was a “good dog”, but as he watched Hashim’s eyes scud briefly towards his hands, he knew he’d never actually touch him - he’d seen the claws, and decided to keep his distance.  So, pretty smart for a vampire.

A few of the Vilkacis had survived, but not many, and not Soriya.  Still, he had no idea how broken up they were - or not - by the loss of their “queen”, as they'd skedaddled pretty quickly after collecting their body parts and their dead.  They didn’t speak to anyone, but that was okay, as no one was lining up to speak to them.

Logan snuck off as soon as he was able.  He had no desire to talk to Bob anymore, as he had a lot to think about right now.  There was that whole Angel hallucination thing for one, and the situation with Jean for another.  In retrospect, hadn’t Kali’s reaction to her been odd?  It was like she'd known Jean, even expected her.  (“Are you here to help?” “Yes, but not you.”)  They'd known each other somehow, hadn’t they?

Had Jean helped Kali before?

It didn’t make sense … but, come to think of it, how had Kali escaped from the underworld dimension she'd been trapped in?  Even Bob wasn’t sure … but Jean hated Bob.  Almost as much as Kali hated Bob.

Oh god.  She didn’t...did she?  Was Jean in on this all along?  Was that why she'd almost laughed when he'd asked for her help?  He knew she didn’t like Bob, but would Jean betray him - and he couldn’t help but think of it that way - by trying to kill him?  Didn’t she know what that would do to him?  But maybe that was the point - didn't misery love company?

He knew becoming a repository for Camaxtli’s energy had changed her - how could it not?  But he never, ever wanted to think of her as an enemy.  Yet maybe she was;  maybe his first strange instinct when he met with her on the psychic plane was the right one.

No.  He was willing to buy a lot of things, but not that - not yet.

(And Bob was shitting him about that Powers That Be thing, right?  Had to be.  The Sisters loved yanking his chain, and Bob probably couldn’t resist jumping in.)

He got the queer feeling he was being followed, or at least watched, but couldn’t spot anyone.  Could have been a demon, or just someone smart enough to hide, and the wind was blowing in the wrong direction for him to scent them.  Whoever or whatever it had been - if it had been; he was still rattled by the fight, whether he wanted to admit it or not - he cut a serpentine pattern through Piccadilly Circus and deliberately lost them in the crowds.  Thankfully, London had lots of places to cut through - especially at night - if you wanted to lose someone:  Piccadilly, Soho, East End, Battersea Park, and the Docklands were all good places, depending on what area of the city you were in.  (How had he known that?)

He made his way down to Chelsea (and caught himself humming a song it took him a minute to identify:  Elvis Costello‘s “I Don‘t Wanna Go to Chelsea”. It was awful to discover your subconscious had a better sense of humor than you did) and Srina’s King’s Road flat, certain he hadn’t been shadowed.  Even if he had, King’s Road was a busy enough place that he could have lost them.  Or, better yet, lain in wait for them.

He caught the faint, familiar scent of apple-scented bubble bath in the inner stairwell, and knew Srina was awake finally.  He just wondered what kind of state she was in as he rapped lightly on the door. “Sri?  It’s me again.”

After a moment, she shouted, “Come on in, Logan.  If you’re brave enough.”

The door was unlocked, which was unusual for her, but he guessed she was expecting him to return.  Once inside, where the air was fragrant with steam, apple scent, and the vaguely fruity scent of black current tea, she came out of her kitchenette wearing a long, tightly belted red satin robe, cradling a steaming ceramic mug in her hands.  She glanced down at the floor, making her short magenta hair hang down in her face, and the strands that were still damp looked dark purple. 

“Brave enough?  Does this mean you’re going to tackle me again?”

He smiled, but she grimaced in embarrassment, looking away before he could see her cheeks flush. “I’m … god, I’m so sorry.  I was really stoned out of my gourd.”

“And you should apologize too.  I mean, any woman who wants to jump my bones oughta get her head checked.  Shame on you.”  He could barely keep a straight face.

Finally, she looked at him and chuckled, her eyes tired but otherwise clear.  He could barely smell the virus on her anymore; it was pretty much dead.  “I should’ve expected that from a man, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“But you didn’t exactly jump my bones, did you?”

“Only ‘cause I was busy.  I was hoping to get a rain check.”

She glanced out the living room window. “Is it raining?”

“It’s only a figure of speech.”

She looked back at him, eyebrow raised, corner of her mouth quirked up. “Oh, I don’t know.  It’s London;  if we wait around long enough, it’ll start.  But you didn’t just drop by to visit me, did you?” She nodded at
his jeans before taking a sip of her tea.

He glanced down, and saw what she meant.  His jeans had dried from his dip in the lake, but they were still splattered and splotched with demon blood and his own.  “Would you believe I cut myself shaving?”

The look she gave him pretty much told him “No”.