I snickered inwardly as Dead Boy stopped behind Jason and clapped him on a shoulder. I didn't know you could look so constipated with a wolf face. The things you learn...

Dead Boy was seventeen. He's been seventeen for thirty years, since he came to the Nightside and was mugged and murdered. He made a deal with something he still won't talk about, but he should have read the fine print. Now, he's a spirit possessing his own corpse.

I've seen zombies before. Declan had faced some once, and burned them to ash, but those had been mindless flesh-puppets, the souls long-departed.

Dead Boy, on the other hand, gave every appearance of being sapient, and his soul was bound to his body tighter than any living human's.

It was blue, too. Whatever he'd made a deal with, it hadn't been a demon. There were no traces of black in the aura.

"Nicholson!" Dead Boy said cheerfully. "Fancy meeting you here!"

"Same," Jason lied through his teeth. "On a walk around town?"

Dead Boy nodded, grinning. "Can't you see I'm dressed to the nines?" Dead Boy's dark eyes widened. "Or...maybe you can't. I've heard dogs are colorblind, so you might be too. Would explain the way you dress..."

Before Jason could say or do something we'd all regret, I walked forward, extending a hand for Dead Boy to shake.

"We're here to investigate rumors of demons," I told him. His grip was cold and clammy, and as strong as some vampires'.

Dead Boy nodded. "They're all true. Not speaking from experience, mind; this little joint has little to offer to the dead, so I haven't hung around here. But it's safer to expect stories to be true, in the Nightside. It's why I came prepared tonight."

I raised an eyebrow. Dead Boy was wearing his usual purple greatcoat, leather pants and calfskin boots. He had a floppy hat perched on his mound of dark hair, and a black rose on one lapel. He replaces them often, because he keeps eating them.

His greatcoat hung open, revealing his pale torso and Y-shaped autopsy scar-his favorite conversation piece. But...I couldn't see any weapons or protections, nor sense anything. How was he prepared?

"Mind if I join you?" Dead Boy asked. "The crowd's pretty boring, and I don't have anything to do tonight. Not that I ever do, of course..."

As he spoke, he took a fistful of dubious, multi-colored pills out of a pocket, and dry-swallowed them. Just the smell of them was enough to put Grim on edge, and if Jason's expression was anything to go by, he didn't care much for the smell either.

"Well?" Dead Boy asked. "How do we do this? Do I take point, or..."

"This is official Nightguard business," Jason said. "We can't let a civilian interfere."

"Chris isn't in uniform," Dead Boy said, pointing at me.

"He's undercover," Jason said patiently. "Not that anyone with eyes will miss him, of course...but that's not what I meant. You can't participate."

Dead Boy laughed. "Don't worry, Captain. There's no risk of me being harmed. I'm dead!"

Jason sighed. "That's not what I meant, either. Just...look. Hang back, and if it looks like we're in trouble, step in. We'll say you're a Nightguard consultant or something."

Dead Boy's eyes all but sparkled. "I've always wanted to be consulted..."

Jason shot me a long-suffering look and walked to the stairs leading to the second floor. He reached the top in a few long strides, with me behind him, hidden by his shadow and bulk. Dead Boy followed me in what he probably imagined was a stealthy manner, hands in his pockets.

The door to the managers' office looked thick and solid, but not as much as the guards standing in front of it. Big, burly types, with more piercings and tattoos that was probably healthy, their auras were as black and oily as tar.

I shook my head. How could people see them, and yet be so blind? The gang they were part of was even called the Demonz, for God's sake!

"Move aside, please," Jason said, walking up to them and presenting his badge. "Jason Wolfe, Captain of the Nightguard. I'm here to talk with Mr. Blood and Mr.B ones."

"Reason for visiting?" One guard asked in a bored tone.

"None of your business."

The guards straightened at that, looking ready to jump Jason. "Do you have an appointment?"

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Sure. Right here..." Jason unslung his gun and swung it like a club, over a hundred kilos of metal cracking the guards' skulls and bouncing them off the wall.

"Obstruction of the Nightguard," Jason said, standing over the fallen guards. "The Authorities will be delighted to hear that."

Jason turned, nodding at me and Dead Boy, and opened the door.

Not even locked, then.

Blood and Bones were sitting at their partners' desk, in an office filled with every luxury imaginable. The two looked liked demons who had watched TV shows about human businessmen and tried to dress the part...which was probably not that far from the truth.

Dead Boy remained in the hallway, ready to jump in at any moment.

"Captain Wolfe," Blood said. "What an unexpected...visit. Did you really have to bludgeon our employees?"

"Lieutenant Gordon," Bones said. "Please try not to damage anything here."

But I wasn't paying attention to them. Instead, I was focusing on the faint smell coming from behind a wall. The smell of death.

"We're here to make sure everything's going normally," Jason said. "No patron is being harmed-really harmed-I'm sure?"

"Of course not, Captain," Blood said.

"We offer only the appearance of pain. Everyone here is safe," Bones said. "While we talk, would you like something to drink, or eat? Some caviar, perhaps?"

"Or you can show us the skeletons in your closet," Jason said, raising his gun and shredding the section of wall from where the smell of death was coming.

The wall fell apart, revealing a mutilated girl held up by chains, looking like something had tried to eat her whole, then stopped halfway through the meal. Grim took over, and I growled.

"Help... help me..." The dead but alive girl rasped. Grim raised my hand and shot a burst of aura at her, blasting her apart. I'd been too late to save her, but I could still end her pain.

Blood and Bones shot to their feet, hissing. Their human disguises disappeared, revealing eight-foot tall demons, with curled horns, crimson skin and cloven hooves. Sticking to the classics, eh?

Behind me, I heard a struggle. Grim took a snapshot of our surroundings, as a bunch of Demonz, also in their true forms, entered the room, two of them staying behind to keep Dead Boy occupied.

The Demonz fanned out, blocking the exit, while Blood and Bones strode towards us, clawed hands clenching and unclenching.

They outnumbered Jason and I six to one. I didn't like their odds.

I covered myself in aura, and jumped at the Demonz, mono-edges cutting crimson flesh like air. At first, they tried to grab and strike me, but this only brought them shredded limbs. I ran through them, literally, and, as their bodies fell apart, I grabbed their spirits, and shouted 'Kirby!'

The smoky form of God's raptor appeared, hovering near the ceiling, and multiplied to take care of the demons. Five Kirbys moved across the room, grabbing demons in their talons and carrying them away to Hell.

Meanwhile, Jason took a holy water grenade and threw it into the air, above Blood and Bones. He shot it, and the demons jumped to the sides, trying to avoid the liquid that burned their skin like acid. Blood tried to jump at Jason, and he shoved his gun down his throat, blasting Blood apart. One of the Kirbys moved to intercept him.

Bones decided discretion is the better part of valor, and tried to run to the door. Dead Boy, having beaten the demons who had jumped him into paste, intercepted Bones with a smile. A punch knocked the demon's head back, and I cut him in half with an aura-lined arm. One of the Kirbys came to take him, while another grabbed the demons in the hallway.

We looked at each other for a moment, cathing our breath...and that was when all Hell broke loose.

Literally.

A black silhouette, like a twisted angel made of darkness, appeared in the middle of the room. Hefting a sword that blazed with black flames, it seemed to stare into my soul, despite having no eyes or face.

"Malahidael," it spoke, pointing its sword at me. "You stand guilty of moving beyond your Creation, and of interfering in the Great Experiment."