As soon as Logan got out of cab, he looked around and wondered how far they were from Bob’s L.A. abode. They seemed to be in some industrial district, or at least some part of town that kind of looked like it. It seemed like it was made of nothing but parking lots and aggressively bleak buildings, all square, squat, and rectangular, with edges sharp enough to cut. There were streetlights, but unevenly spaced, as if several had been removed by extremely strong vandals. It was dingy and poorly lit, and he wondered if he’d wandered into a Goth video shoot.

But the creepiest thing of all was there was no traffic. None, on any of the cracked asphalt streets wending their way through the dark maze of desolate buildings. He could hear traffic noise, though, some of it quite close, the repetitive thud of rap music bass lines vibrating into the night. But nowhere near here, an impossibility in Los Angeles.

Hair stood up on the back of his neck, and he rapidly scanned the area all around them, peering into the deep well of shadows that seemed to cloak every building, and his skin just wanted to crawl off. “We’re being watched,” he growled, looking around for the culprit.

Lorne stopped in the middle of the empty street, and held up his hands as if showing off the neighborhood. “Of course we’re being watched. You’ve heard of the bad part of town? Well, this is the worst part - welcome to it.”

He looked around, waiting for something to lunge. He smelled a lot of things, but they were all strange and all mixed together, like something was leaving down misleading scent trails on purpose. His skin continued to prickle, but he couldn’t pinpoint a reason why, or even a direction. Shadows moved out of the corners of his eyes, but when he focused on them, they went still.

“This is a place of wraiths,” Lorne told him, waiting for him to catch up. “Nasty buggers, but they can’t really hurt you. Well, much. Mainly they’re just here to frighten the knickers off anyone who just wanders by.”

“I thought ghosts couldn’t really interact with people.”

Lorne rolled his red eyes like a teenage girl. “Not ghosts, studly, wraiths.”

He decided to ignore the “studly” nickname. Why was he coming up with a new silly nickname for him every five minutes? “What’s the difference?”

“Ghosts are dead people, who for one reason or another are stuck here. Wraiths are quasi-intangible demons who can’t inhabit Humans, but can’t do much about their semi-phased state either. They’re kinda like string cheese - neither useful or edible. So they do a lot of low level security work, mainly of the scaring Humans variety, ‘cause demons just ain’t scared of them.”

“Ah.” He knew he was never going to get a complete hang of things like this - every time he turned around, it seemed like there was a demon species he just didn’t know, but then again, they did seem to have one for everything. Demons just covered the evolutionary map, like those with most players on the board would win. Maybe they were right.

Lorne led him to a square, squat building behind other square, squat buildings, only this one was surrounded by a high chain link fence, topped with loops of razor wire. There were condemned signs threaded through the fence, as well as biohazard warnings, which he had seen before. Demons had figured out radiation and toxic waste symbols were deeply frightening to the average Human, and used them as often as possible. Logan knew there was something wrong about it - it smelled wrong, it felt wrong, and his skin was starting to itch.

Lorne grabbed his arm, and pulled him towards the fence. “This’ll probably tingle. Don’t fight it.”

“Fight what?” He asked, but too late, as Lorne pulled him to the fence - and right through it.

The fence seemed to wink out of existence, replaced by nothing but a thick blackness that felt like it was trying to physically push him back out. Lorne kept pulling him forward against it, and as much as he wanted to pop his claws and cut through the mess, he didn’t, figuring this was what Lorne was talking about not fighting.

Finally he was pulled out to the other side, which was just a parking lot, before a building that was square and angular, but not at all like the one they’d seen before. For one thing, it looked far less run down, and was painted a subtle, shimmering silver. It smelled different too, a cacophony of alien and sharp scents that made him shake his head. “What’s that?”

Lorne thought he meant the building, because he said, “Arcanum, in the … well, drywall?  What is that stuff? Anyhoo, here we are, Big Bad central. You ready?”

Logan looked over his shoulder, where the tattered fence illusion was back in place. “That’s not a normal glamour, is it?”

“It’s not a glamour at all, honey. It’s a cloaking spell that can only be penetrated by certain beings. Generally, only those from another dimension.”

“Aren’t all demons technically from another dimension?”

“Well … yes, but this spell is specifically for those not yet nationalized. Meaning those of us who haven’t hung around this plane for the past fifteen years or so.”

He scratched the back of his neck, which still felt unbearably itchy. “So the only demons in there are recently arrived from somewhere else?”

“Yes. And their friends or snacks.”

“Snacks?”

“Oh, don’t worry Eddie Scissorhands, I’m sure you’re too tough to eat. Like beef jerky lost under the radiator for three years.”

He arched an eyebrow and glared at him, not sure where he could even begin to complain. “Are you done?”

Lorne gave him a drunken half-smile. “For now, yeah. C’mon, we don’t wanna be late for the party.”

“What, are we the appetizers?”

“No, probably more like main entrée.”

“What connection would demons from another dimension have to anodyne?” He muttered to himself.

“What, sweetie? 'Didn’t catch that.”

“Nothing, just talking to myself.” Sweetie? Oh, whatever.

Lorne held open the door, letting Logan take the lead as they went inside. He didn’t pop his claws, but he remained very alert, waiting for the first sign or scent of trouble.

He thought he wasn’t expecting anything, but obviously he was. He was expecting a Human like bar with loud music and bad lighting, but he felt like he’d walked into the wrong place. The ceiling was impossibly high for the warehouse outside, and it was brightly lit with soft golden light from an unclear source. Diaphanous drapes of cloth hung from the mammoth ceiling, cutting the cavernous expanse into sections through which you could see shadows of beings like they were projections on movie screens. Large gem colored floor pillows were heaped up in many spots, and brightly colored Oriental rugs livened up the poured concrete floor, while fragrant smoke like the seashore almost obscured the alien reek of many demons. It seemed like he had entered some kind of palace harem room, a decadent place with hookahs and eunuchs guarding scantily dressed women.  There was music playing, but so faintly even his hearing had a hard time picking it up. Sounded like Modest Mouse, not the Goth or otherwise raucous music he would have expected from the demon contingent. But then again, hadn’t it already been established he listened to louder music than most of them, and Bob topped them all?

There was something like a bar on the far left, a highly polished arc of blond wood, and he passed through soft veils of ochre and violet, which had a scent somewhere between fabric softener and embalming fluid.

The few demons he had seen had not even looked in his direction, and he wondered if he had entered some kind of high class demon shooting gallery, where they were all so stoned they couldn’t even muster up a knee jerk blood lust. He had been worried why?

When he passed through the final drape of azure, he saw why.

There were a couple of very Human looking demons standing at the bar, even though there was no bartender in sight, and one looked familiar.  He saw the body first, slender and almost frail, clad in a crimson velvet dress with a bodice that looked like a corset, baring arms and a hint of demur cleavage, her skin as white as snow.  Long chestnut hair was held back with an intricate knot that only kept her hair spilling down her back as opposed to covering her face.

She looked at him and gave him a predatory smile, all pale blue far away eyes and blood red lips. “See, I told you he’d come,” Dru said to her companion.

Her companion was a towering woman, six foot in fuck me heels, a would be starlet judging by her dyed blonde hair, fake bake tan, a custom sculpted nose, and saline implants that gave her not so much as large breasts as potential body armor. The woman wore a paisley halter top and a black leather mini-skirt, showing off well toned legs and arms. Her face was unremarkable - it was her body that was the selling point - but her eyes seemed to glow a disturbing pink, and she smelled ever so faintly of something not unlike anodyne. “Oh good. Heroes are so tasty.”

She stared at him, and before he could do anything, he realized the choice had been taken from him - he couldn’t move at all. He was rooted to the spot, and could hardly breathe. He couldn’t even see if Lorne was here yet. (Did he even come in?)

The blonde started sauntering towards him, as Dru remained where she was, tittering behind her hand like a shy little girl. “Y’know, big shot, you shoulda done the math,” the blonde chided. “Human as hero just doesn’t work. Not against us. What the hell were you thinking? Oh, wait, you weren’t thinking, were you?”

What the hell was it, telekinesis? He couldn’t even look away. He couldn’t fight against it, so he had nothing to lose when he thought about the blue, Bob’s energy in his mind, dredging it up with a thought.

It was the right move. He felt the tension on him lessen, and she stopped moving towards him, pink eyes widening in shock. “What the fuck ..? Vampire, he ain’t normal!”

“Ooh, he has shiny blue bits,” Dru cooed, not copping to the error - or doing so in a strangely governmental,, backwards way. “Little pieces of Bob. It tastes like sun on stone.”

Blondie snapped her head around to shoot Dru a nasty look. “What the fuck kinda drugs are you on, sister?”

“None,” Logan gritted out, finally able to talk.  As blue filled his bloodstream, her power was ebbing away. “She’s a loon. You never figured that out?”

Dru waved a finger at him in a scolding manner. “Now now, little messenger. I’m no bird.”

The blonde turned away from Dru, shaking her head dismally. “She’s got rocks in her head. Stupid vampires! I should never trust them.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Logan agreed, and then moved. He grabbed Blondie by the throat with one hand and quickly slammed her back against the bar, bending her back at a painful angle (well, for a Human body), and then popped the claws on his other hand, holding it level with her eyes.  It stopped one inch away - and she probably couldn’t guess that was exactly how much claw length he still held within his knuckles. “Now, what’s your connection to anodyne? Tell me, or we see if you can live without a head.”

“Oh shit,” she breathed, staring at his claws. “You’re one of Kriedler’s?”

“Hey, I -” Lorne began, then stopped. “Oh, see you’re busy.”

“I am not one of Kriedler’s,” he growled. “Now what the hell are you?”

“I believe she‘s a lamia,” Lorne contributed helpfully. “Right?”

The blonde’s pink eyes narrowed to slits. “What of it, lizard face?”

He had to think about that for a moment. The name was kind of familiar, obviously mythological. “Lamia? Isn’t that a kind of vampire?”

“We are not vampires!” She snapped angrily. “Those blood sucking idiots …”

Dru continued to titter. And while he kept an eye on her, she seemed oddly content to watch.

“Well, mythology lumps ‘em in with vampires, but that’s not quite right. They are parasitic demons, tho -”

“Fuck you, horn head!” Blondie shouted, trying to lunge at him. But Logan held her fast, and lowered his claws even more.

“You can lose an eye first,” Logan snarled at her, then barked at Lorne, “If they don’t drink blood, what do they do?”

“Eat souls. Sometimes they take residence in the body of the person they snuffed, but other times they just eat the soul and move on.”

That sounded both creepy and significant. “What happens to the bodies after they eat the souls?”

He shrugged with his hands. “Damned if I know, stud muffin.”

Logan shook Blondie by the throat. “What happens?! Do they shrivel up like you sucked all the water out of ‘em?”

“Kinda - it ain’t like you guys are anything but rotten fruit anyways.”

So there was his answer: anodyne wasn’t really killing everybody, it was the lamias. But that still didn’t make complete sense. “What’s the connection to anodyne? Are you making this shit?”

“Anodyne?” Lorne asked. “What’s that?”

“It sings to them,” Dru suddenly exclaimed. She twirled away from the bar, holding her hands up like she was about to snap together a set of castanets. “It’s the key that opens the door, the beacon that draws them near, the fire that tempts the moths.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, but Dru hardly noticed or cared. “Can you break that down into English?”

“The key that opens the door?” Lorne repeated curiously. “Huh. Do you mean it’s the elixir?”

“Fine, you tell me,” Logan snapped. “Somebody better goddamn tell me!”

“The lamias got their rosy pink butts booted out of this dimension a long time ago, by other demons who didn’t like them bogarting the Humans and leaving sloppy seconds behind. The only way they could get back was through someone on this side helping them out. There was a rumor that there was some kinda elixir, using their blood, that would open a gateway, but I have no idea how that would work.”

Logan tightened his grip, and asked Blondie, “Is that true?”

“What if it is, fuzzball?”

Dru spun to the side, giggling, and said, “Uh-oh.”

A nearby curtain of lime green was pulled back, and three other pink-eyed lamia-infested Humans appeared. One was maybe six-foot-six and built like a bouncer, a black man with a gleaming bald scalp and a nose ring, while the one standing beside him was a slightly overweight Goth girl with spiky black hair and black lined eyes, wearing all black and a long Keanu Reeves Matrix style coat, which was insanely inappropriate for the weather; and the third looked like one of those suburban white boy “gangsta” wannabes, with baggy pants, a wife beater tank top, and a backwards turned baseball cap. Logan wondered if he could hurt him by pointing out his look was passé and so yesterday. “I’d let her go if I were you, Human,” Nose Ring growled.

He took them all in, wondering how they were supposed to be a threat. If soul sucking was all they had on the table, Bob’s power seemed to counteract it (maybe that’s why the gateway wasn’t opened in him when Marcus gave it to him - or however the hell that worked). He sneered at them, but hauled Blondie off the bar by her throat and tossed her over to her friends. She collided with Big Pants, but somehow neither fell down. “Take her. But do you really wanna dance with me, demon?”

“There’s something wrong with him,” Blondie gasped, straightening up. “He’s harboring something pretty powerful.”

“It’s blue fire from the heavens,” Dru chimed in, making odd movements with her hands; they fluttered like restless birds. “Well, one of them, at any rate.”

“And this one’s a nut job,” she said, pointing at Dru.  Dru didn’t seem to notice, and no one else cared.

Another demon joined them, but this one looked like Lorne - if he had gained about a foot of height and a hundred and fifty extra pounds. He also wore a black muscle shirt and blue jeans, an oddly subdued outfit that suggested that they couldn’t be related, even though they kind of looked it.

“Holy crap,” Lorne exclaimed. “Mwerrokkendahl?”

“What’s it to you, traitor?” He snarled, in a voice equal parts cheese grater and gravel.

“Old friend?” Logan guessed.

Lorne looked oddly pale, his eyes darting around as if looking around for an exit. “Uh, yeah, something like that. Listen, I think I parked the car in a tow away zone. I’d better go check.”

“We didn’t have a car.”

“I’ll go steal one,” he said, backing away.

“Coward,” Mwerrokkendahl spat.

“I’m a lover, not a fighter,” Lorne replied with wounded dignity, then turned and ran.

Logan really didn’t care, as he hadn’t expected Lorne to help out in the fight. He wasn’t one hundred percent certain what position he’d held on Angel’s team, but he’d pretty much ruled out “muscle”. He popped the claws on his other hand, and said, “I could walk away. You sure you want to do this?”

Mwer- whatever stepped forward, and held out his arms. Something black and pointed grew out from under his wrists, and what looked like a small semi-circle of curved black spikes sprung from his wide green forehead. They weren’t as long or as thick as his normal horns, but looked much sharper. In fact, they looked more like barbed wire than anything else. “Let me guess - Kriedler?” Logan asked.

Mwer just grinned at him savagely, like he was really going to enjoy ripping his throat out.

Oh boy. Why couldn’t he visit a bar without getting in a fight?  Maybe this was the universe’s way of
telling him to drink at home.

11

The evil Lorne demon lunged for him first, coming at him with one of those wrist spikes. At the same time, Nose Ring came at him, probably hoping to make a Logan sandwich. He wasn’t going to give them the chance - he lunged right back towards the evil Lorne, bringing his claw around to slash into his spike, or whatever it was.

The spike seemed to shoot out further, punching through Logan's gut before he slashed through it, but at the same time he punched through the other's shoulder, ripping down into his torso. Evil Lorne grabbed him with his one good hand and slammed his forehead into his, the barbed horns biting into his flesh before breaking like teeth on his adamantium skull.

Logan reeled from the force of the blow - maybe his skull was harder, but the Evil Lorne had one made out of concrete - and Nose Ring landed a hard uppercut.  That was unfortunate for him, however, as his knuckles connected with the Logan's jawbone, cracking on impact.

The lamia made a strangled noise of pain, and Logan landed a kick in his midsection that sent him falling back into Blondie and Big Pants. There was a thud, and Evil Lorne cursed.  Looking, Logan saw that one of his arms had fallen off, neatly lopped off at the shoulder. Evil Lorne didn’t look hurt at all, but he did look pissed. “Now look what you did!”  He snapped. “D’ya know how much it’s gonna cost me to get that reattached?”

“Sucks to be you,” Logan replied sarcastically, wiping blood off his head with his forearm. The cuts had already healed, but the blood itched.

Goth Girl reached into her jacket, and pulled out a machete. “Maybe I should take yours, Human.”

He shrugged. “ 'Welcome to try, sister.”

Blondie pulled out what looked like a taser, and turned it on with an electric snap. “Maybe we’ll take more than that.”

He shrugged, and waited for the girls to make their move. There was no way they could win this.

And that’s when the oddest thing happened.

Someone grabbed Blondie’s head from behind, and twisted it violently backwards, the neck snapping so dramatically it sounded like a rifle shot. “I am not a nut job,” Dru said, as Blondie fell to the floor like a bag full of sawdust. The stunned fellow demons looked at her, and she gave them an evil glare, eyes narrowing in distaste and blood-red lips thinning to a grim line. “And I don’t like cold blood.”

Had what Lorne said about the lamias sunk in?  Or did she just want him all to herself?  Logan felt like
he’d completely lost track of the plot here.

Goth Girl swung the machete at Dru, which was a mistake. Despite her odd placidity, when Dru came to life, the speakers blew out.  Dru grabbed her arm before she could complete the downward arc, and twisted it until it snapped, the machete falling from her limp hand. At the same time, she slammed a flattened palm into the girl’s face, and she went down hard.

Big Pants, who had done absolutely squat so far, pulled out a knife - for whatever good that would do - and went for her, but not for long. Dru grabbed him by the face, ignoring the knife completely, and said, “Make a wish.”

Then she drove her fingers right into his eyes.

Fingernails first, she dug in deep, and the lamia screamed and dropped his knife, trying to get away from Dru’s grip as she sank her fingers in to the second knuckle.  He spasmed, stiffened, and when she pulled her fingers out with a sickeningly wet “pop”, he keeled over like he’d just had his throat cut.  Logan wasn’t sure if he was dead or not, but pink blood spilled down his face, and what was left of his eyes oozed down his cheeks like runny eggs.

“You sick little bitch,” Nose Ring roared, kicking a hole in a bar to splinter the wood. He grabbed up a jagged piece as a makeshift stake, but Dru had already snagged the Goth Girl’s fallen machete. Before they could attack, a gunshot rang through the bar, making them all jump.

Lorne had reappeared, this time holding a gun, which he had shot at the ceiling. But now that he had everyone’s attention, he leveled it at the Evil Lorne, who had picked up his fallen arm and was still scowling at it sourly, like it was its own fault it fell off. “Okay, we’re all done here,” Lorne announced. “We’re leaving, and nobody else will have to die - unless you get in our way. Comprende?”

Dru giggled, and licked some eyeball off her fingers. “A lot of people are going to die. It will be so much fun.”

“Whose side are you on?” Logan exclaimed, wondering if she was even capable of giving a straight answer. Maybe she didn’t even know.

But she just gave him that playful smile, her eyes sparkling with malevolent glee. There was just nothing behind those eyes, absolutely no one home, and it was enough to make you shudder. And he thought the Sisters were creepy. (Now that he thought about it, Spike did have a good point that one time - what was it with Angel and crazy women?)

Nose Ring took advantage of her distraction to try and stake Dru through the back, but she spun gracefully on her toes, swinging the machete, and she effortlessly lopped off his head before he could even get close. She completed her twirl and did a tiny curtsey as his head rolled beyond the curtain, and his body toppled behind her.

“What the fuck is your deal?” Evil Lorne asked her, equally annoyed and curious.

“I think she just likes to kill things,” Lorne offered. “Ready to go, big guy?”

Logan sighed, wondering if he should go for Dru now or not, to finish this, but it would probably be more beneficial to just leave her here to kill off everybody in Arcanum.  Or they would kill her, which was basically a win-win situation any way you sliced it.  No pun intended. “Yeah, I got what I needed.”

“No you haven’t,” Dru said, a curiously humorous lilt to her voice. “But you will.” Evil Lorne glared at her, and she looked at him with a big, beaming smile. “I bet you taste like chicken.”

“Get back to us on that,” Logan replied, turning and walking away. Although turning your back on Dru was probably not wise, he had all his senses on full alert, and if anyone took a single step in his direction, he would know. As it was, no one did; Evil Lorne and Dru were locked in a staring contest, and Evil Lorne was finally realizing he couldn’t win this one, even if he had two functioning arms.

There wasn’t any screaming until they reached the door, and by that time they were in the clear. Lorne
still didn’t put the gun away. In fact, he was gripping the handle of the snub-nose thirty-eight like it was a lifeline, holding on to it so hard that his knuckles were paling to pastel.

“So why would anyone bother to bring the lamias back if everyone hates them so much?” Logan asked, thinking out loud.

“Well, bugger me sideways, amigo - I have no idea. But there are demons that just like to cause trouble and stir the pot. Or, they just want to kill all the Humans, which would rule out all parasitic ones, and ones that like to eat them … that actually leaves a pretty small list. Maybe you can start investigating there.”

Logan waited until Lorne pulled him through the cloaking spell to the other side, the real world, before he said, “Or someone wants to cut a deal with them, kill only specific Humans.”

Lorne scoffed. “Cut a deal with lamias? They’re hardly the most trustworthy sorts. They’ll kill whoever they want.”

“They can’t kill other demons, can they?”

“Not by eating their souls, no. But, otherwise, sure. Give ‘em a machine gun or sulfuric acid -”

“I think I’ve finally figured this out,” he interrupted, feeling his skin prickle from the continued surveillance. Bloody wraiths. He saw that Thrak’s cab was still parked in the same spot, clearly waiting for them. The idea that Lorne probably got his gun from him was a little frightening.

“Really? Gonna clue me in here? ’Cause I’m pretty sure they didn’t give me the right script.”

“What do you know about demon mobsters?”

Lorne stopped in the middle of the street and stared at him, belatedly remembering to point his gun at the ground. “Mobsters? The mob is in this too? Oh shit, I really didn’t sign on for that, mon frere.”

He didn’t either, but that didn’t stop it from happening. Still, at least he had a proper target.

Now it was time to confront the Three Dragons head on, and see if he could clean up this whole mess.