Well, shit.

It took that little joke about walking to make me realize who I was talking to, and thank God that I did it before I decided to use my Sight. I doubt I'd have survived the experience.

The Walking Man was the wrath of God in the world of men. His name name came from the fact that he walked the world in straight lines, to do what needed to be done-though whether the what was necessary was decided by him, or God, was a matter of debate.

Some people weren't sure whether he was empowered by God at all, though they tended to change their opinions upon faced with him.

Had he come here to take revenge on us for the captured angel? Dammit, Stark-

"It's fine," the Walking Man said. "Just because we're colleagues doesn't mean we're friends, too. You of all people should know, Dresden, that angels lack that human touch...and there are things only a man can do."

"So, you're not here for us?" Stark asked, holstering his weapons. Either he had recognized the Walking Man, or simply sensed how dangerous he was.

The Walking Man smiled, his weathered face crinkling like old leather. "That is not what I said, Stark. I could try and judge you for the many things you've done, but then I'd be a hypocrite, and He doesn't like that."

"Really?" Stark asked drily. "I hadn't noticed."

The Walking Man shook his head. "The Creator is nothing like the schizophrenic wretch who fell apart trying to rule your universe. He knows the Nightside must go on, and guided me here to ensure it does."

"But...aren't you weakened here?" I asked skeptically. Angels were, at least, or the Nightside would have been ash on the wind by now, though I wasn't sure if this extended to the Walking Man, too. From what I'd heard, this guy was practically a living Sword of the Cross-

"Nifty things," the Walking Man said, nodding in my direction. "We really ought to make something like them here, too. I can't be everywhere."

"Will you stop reading my mind?" I asked with a frown. "Or whatever you're doing? I don't care if you're God's deputy or whatever, but-"

"I'm not reading anything. I know what I need to know, when I need to know," he said in what he probably thought was a reasonable tone. I looked at him askance, but couldn't read his face.

I've had enough people rummaging around in my head, though. This guy may have stepped straight out of the Old Testament, but if he tried to get in, too, I'd find a way to get back at him.

"Heh," Stark snorted. "You sound like this guy I know...he's a fucking pain in the ass, too. So." He looked around, in case another angel approached us. "What do we do? Unless you're here to tell them all to fuck off back to Heaven, in the Big Guy's name."

"I'm not. My position in Heaven's hierarchy is...nonexistent. The angels have never cared for me or my predecessors. Too powerful, too human in thinking." The Walking Man smiled briefly, to himself. "Though I'll be sure to kill any of them that's dumb enough to get close. And if they're fallen... so much the better."

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And so, we set off, to a destination only the Walking Man knew. Stark collapsed the enclosed area we had made as we left, and took up our rear, with me in the middle.

"The World Beneath is home to things that have no place in the Nightside," the Walking Man said as we followed him, spinning his revolvers and blasting through dozens of dark angels with every shot. They never ran out of bullets. The light angels took a look at our group, though better of it, and backed off. They still continued to ravage the surroundings, of course.

"The descent in the World Beneath is only partly literal," the Walking Man continued. "We'll have to find a sewer, or-"

He was cut off as the ground cracked open beneath us.

"Shit!" I yelped, trying to think of a spell that could send me back up...then I saw what was coming from beneath.

I've never been scared of bugs, even as a kid. Roaches, spiders, centipedes? They might be pretty ugly and gross, but they're not scary, not really.

Maggots, on the other hand? They're never nice to see, especially when they're squirming under skin as they eat the flesh beneath.

The maggots that rose up at me and Stark were huge, longs as trains and thick as tree trunks. Winter flowed into my veins, and I shouted 'Infriga!'. The maggots, writhing like giant tentacles, froze solid, looking like freakish icicles.

But I was still falling. I had no damn clue how deep this pit was, but I doubted I'd survive the drop, even as the Winter Knight. And that was without the chance of more creepy crawlies waiting for me at the bottom.

My fall was halted by a hand grasping my nape, calloused and inhumanly strong. I looked up, surprised, to find the Walking Man standing on thin air, a revolver in his other hand. He shot once at each frozen maggot, turning it into icy dust and pale gore.

Well. Not like I was planning to eat today. Or this year.

Stark had also stopped his fall. He was standing above the Walking Man, on a flight of stairs that sprouted out of one of the pit's sides. The hell?

"Why, Dresden," Stark drawled, taking out and lighting a cigarette. "You've barely met, and you're already falling for him? You rascal you..."

I grumbled something rude, then glanced at the Walking Man. "Uh... is there a chance we can go back to the surface? I don't mind hanging out, but this is ridiculous."

"It's a blessing in disguise, wizard," he said, eyes turned downwards, towards the gloom, focused on something only he could see. "They've ripped open the world for us...how kind. Now, we just have to go all the way down."

Above us, Stark nodded, chanting something in a language I didn't recognize. The stairs extended, all the way into the gloom. The Walking Man dropped me onto a step, and walked on air alongside us as we descended.