Chapter 12

As I eat breakfast,I activate the VR and check my messages. There's a reply from Itzel telling me where to meet her and the gang on Gomorrah, so as soon as I finish my meal, I head out to Nebulabucks.

Nebulabucks is a teashop chain, and the location Itzel chose must be new—the line of thirsty Cognizant is only ten minutes long. Felix, Ariel, Itzel, and Kit are sitting at the biggest table in the corner, hot drinks in everyone's hands.

Felix holds out a cup to me. "Nebula flower, the way you like it."

Thanking him, I take the cup and sniff it as I sit down next to Ariel. The fruity notes of the tea are divine.

"How did your game development thing go with Valerian?" Ariel asks with an eyebrow waggle.

I flush at the reminder of the kiss fiasco. "Long story." I look at Itzel's masked face. "Did you find your grandfather?"

"No," the gnome says, her nasal voice disguised by the breathing apparatus. "But we made some progress."

"Or Maya did," Felix says proudly.

I look around the table again, then peek under it. "Where's your little friend?"

"She's eighteen," Felix says defensively—and no wonder. I'm pretty sure he's at least in his mid-twenties.

Ariel grins. "Legal as of very recently."

"But do tell Bailey where she is." Kit turns herself into the petite girlfriend in question and gives Felix an evil smirk. "I'm sure it'll make it crystal clear how mature she is."

Felix glares at Ariel and Maya/Kit. "She's got a trigonometry exam."

Kit morphs into Felix. "Advanced trigonometry," she says in his voice. "Must not forget that."

Ariel's grin widens. "Still a high school subject. And no, it won't help matters if you tell Bailey about the advanced placement classes Maya takes."

"Come now," I say, my face exaggeratedly serious. "Maya sounds like a very bright younglady."

Felix slurps his tea very loudly, then says, "Anyway, this high school student was the only one who could help us make heads or tails of Cadmael's disappearance."

"Indeed," Itzel says sternly. "And if we could get back to said disappearance, that would be swell."

I turn my attention to her grumpy face. "What did you learn?"

"We found a vaping pen in Grandpa's apartment," Itzel says. "It didn't seem to be his, so we asked Maya to touch it."

"Her power is psychometry," Felix chimes in. "She can tell who an object belongs to when she—"

"We all know what psychometry is," Ariel says with an eye roll.

Itzel puts down her cup. "Do you want to see how it went?"

"Please." I take a big gulp of my tea.

Itzel puts on a set of VR glasses and gloves and makes a few gestures.

I hide my surprise at seeing that she has an older model of comms. Since she's a gnome, I expected her to have the latest gadgets. Then again, she might resent that stereotype, similar to how peaceful orcs dislike being perceived as violent brutes.

Opening my own VR interface, I click on the video she's just sent me.

* * *

The VR putsme in a cluttered room, presumably in Cadmael's apartment. Maya is sitting on the floor next to dirty socks, holding the vape gizmo in her tiny hands.

A glowing, purple-tinted energy seeps from her skin into the object, and her expression turns trance-like. "He's punching an elf in the face," she chants under her breath. "Now he's punching a dwarf, then a—" Her eyes roll back. Then she exhales, and her eyes return to normal.

"His name is Vas Lube," she says, sounding tired. "He's an extremely aggressive orc."

So much for not stereotyping. Nobody around me looks surprised to hear of an orc's involvement either.

Itzel's voice rings out from where the VR camera must've stood. "Where can we find this orc?"

Maya shrugs. "I can only tell you who he is, not his location."

The VR recording terminates.

* * *

I dismissmy VR and find myself back at the table in the teahouse.

"So it's safe to assume he took Cadmael," I say, looking at my friends. "An orc named Vas Lube."

Kit is grinning. "I hope Vas isn't short for Vaseline."

"Leave it to Kit to turn an orc's name into something sexual," Felix mutters under his breath.

I pick up my tea. "What did you guys do once you got the name?"

"Nothing," Itzel growls. "I don't know anyone who's ever heard that name. Nor do they." She sweeps her gaze around the table.

"It's a good thing you have me then," I say, "because I know a guy."

"Who?" Ariel asks, her eyebrows furrowing.

"I don't think you guys know him. I helped him out once, and now he helps me when I need something from the Gomorrah underworld." Such as vampire blood is what I don't add, since it might still be a sensitive topic for Ariel.

Itzel jackknifes to her feet. "Let's go see him now."

* * *

As we driveto the bar where my guy—Napoleon—always hangs out, I ponder whether it wouldn't be wiser to ask Valerian for help with this instead. If he can locate the werewolf from Erato's dreams, he might also be able to find this orc.

Problem is, I'm not sure I can face Valerian after last night's debacle, let alone ask him for favors. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he were to find someone else to help him with the werewolf and disappear from my life for good. He's probably canceling the Lucid Dreamer project at this very moment, so even my mom will suffer due to my inability to kiss a guy I like.

"Bailey." Ariel touches my shoulder. "We're here."

And so we are. This is exactly the seedy bar we need.

Taking a few steadying breaths, I exit the car and lead everyone to our destination.

* * *

"This place remindsme of the Mos Eisley Cantina from Star Wars," Felix whispers as we enter.

"All the bars and clubs on Gomorrah remind you of that," Ariel says. "You need to get out more."

Napoleon is sitting on an extra-tall barstool to the side, looking red, horned, and tiny, as usual.

I nod toward him. "That's my guy."

"Wait a second," Felix says. "I know him. He sold me a gun once."

I gape at him. Guns are extremely illegal here on Gomorrah, to the point that even the Enforcers—our law enforcement—are not allowed to carry them. Only the Senate Guard, a type of secret service for the government, and the Gomorrah equivalent of SWAT carry guns.

Then again, given what I know about Napoleon, it doesn't surprise me that he sells guns and other taboo items.

"What kind of Cognizant is he?" Ariel whispers loudly. "He looks like a little red devil."

I cast a worried glance at Napoleon. I hope his hearing can't pick up what we're saying. "He calls himself a nain rouge."

"That's just ‘red dwarf' in French," Itzel whispers.

Of course she speaks French. Gnomes are very good at languages.

"I believe his kind are more commonly called the lutin," Kit says in a hushed tone and turns herself into a pretty and feminine little red devil. "They're forced to look like humans on Earth." She transforms into a petite human with the same features as the little devil. "The lutin are amazing lovers."

"Someone really needs to get laid," Felix mutters under his breath.

"You volunteering?" Kit shimmers into Maya and licks her lips in a disturbingly sexual manner.

Felix reddens to Napoleon's levels as Ariel chokes on laughter. At the bar, Napoleon's pointy ear twitches.

"Hey, Napoleon!" I call loudly and head toward him.

The nain rouge puts down his murky, ruby-colored drink and turns around to scan the bar. Spotting me, he bares his sharp, predatory teeth in a wide smile.

"Bailey." He pronounces my name with a district French accent. "Nice to see you outside my dreams for a change."

I smile and greet him in French before switching to English for the benefit of my American friends. "This is Kit, Itzel, and Ariel, and you already know Felix."

Napoleon looks Felix up and down. "Oui, the gun. I hope you only used it on your backwater world, as you assured me you would."

Felix bobs his head. "I'd never brandish it on Gomorrah."

"Good. Good." Napoleon picks up his drink and takes a sip. "I charge double the price I gave you if it's for local use."

Itzel huffs. "Worried if someone gets caught, it could come back to bite you?"

"Gnomes and their bluntness." Napoleon gulps the rest of his drink. "Even orcs have more finesse."

"Speaking of orcs," I say casually, hoping to keep the cost of the information we need as low as possible. "We're looking for one named Vas Lube. Where can we find him?"

Clicking his little red fingers, Napoleon summons the elf bartender and orders another drink—Chimera's Fire.

I inwardly cringe. He's about to get a concoction so hot and spicy, some say it's made by fermenting reaper peppers—abominations with a Scoville Heat Unit in the millions.

The bartender places the drink in front of Napoleon, and as a drop of it spills on the coaster, it sizzles.

The nain rouge takes a long sip and grins as contentedly as a child chasing a chocolate chip cookie with warm milk.

"So, about Vas," I say with exaggerated patience. "We need information."

Napoleon lowers his drink to study me. "I like you," he says, his breath smelling of pepper spray. "I don't want you to get yourself killed."

My friends and I exchange glances.

"He's dangerous?" Felix asks.

"As dangerous as they come." Napoleon looks around furtively. "He runs with the Filthy Bastards."

I glance at Itzel to see if she knows what he's talking about.

She looks just as blank as I do, and our off-world companions appear even more clueless.

Napoleon sighs deeply. "I'm talking about a gang that chose to name themselves Filthy Bastards. Do I really need to explain this further?"

Itzel's eyebrows snap together. "I don't care if they call themselves Abominable Rascals or Repulsive Reprobates," she growls, leaning into Napoleon's personal space. "This Vas person knows something about my grandfather's disappearance, and I intend to speak with him."

"Remind me never to let Itzel name a gang," Felix whispers. "Rascals?"

If Napoleon minds being face to face with Itzel's breathing mask, he doesn't show it. "Who's your grandfather?" he asks, seemingly offhandedly.

"You wouldn't know him," I say quickly. If Itzel mentions that her gramps is a famous inventor, the price of the information we seek will get a number of zeroes tacked on to it, if it hasn't already.

"By telling you what I know, I'll be putting myself at risk," Napoleon says right into Itzel's face. "I hope you're ready to compensate me accordingly."

Itzel's eyes water—probably from Napoleon's spicy breath. Wiping at her face with her sleeve, she steps back.

"How much?" I ask.

Napoleon names an insane figure.

"Throw in guns for each and every one of us, and you've got yourself a deal," Itzel says before I can even start to bargain.

He picks up his hellish drink. "I only have one gun left. And you'd have to use it off-world."

"We plan to use the gun when we face Vas," I say evenly. "Take it or leave it."

There's no way this is actually the last gun he owns, but if I challenge him on it, it'll do more harm than good.

Napoleon grins, exposing his fangs. "I'll take it… if you visit my dreams one more time."

Itzel better appreciate this. "At a time of my choosing," I say reluctantly. "And not soon."

"Oui. Just bear in mind, that time will need to be before you need my help again." He downs the rest of his drink, probably getting an ulcer right then and there.

We all chip in to pay for Napoleon's services, with Itzel insisting on contributing the lion's share. When we tell him to check his balance, Napoleon gestures in his VR like an opera conductor. Upon seeing the money in his account, he gives us a predatory grin and gesticulates a few more times before saying, "Check your messages."

Sure enough, he's sent us the location of the gang's hangout.

"Pleasure doing business with you," he says when I confirm I got the directions.

"What about the gun?" Itzel asks.

Grunting, he reaches under the bar in front of him and pulls out a sleek, short-musket-like device. Before anyone can see the highly illegal weapon and report us, I snatch it and hide it in the back of my pants.

We quickly hustle out of the bar and summon a ride. Itzel instructs the car to go to her place. "Felix's suit is there," she explains. "If we're going to look for a gang member inside their own hideout, we need all the help we can get."

* * *

Itzel's apartmentlooks like a mad rocket scientist's lair. There are countless screens with rocket designs on them, half-built drones, tangles of wires, and jars of exotic fuels.

In the walk-in closet by the living room stands the suit in question—which looks like a sci-fi B movie robot.

"Felix claims he was inspired by the very first clunker of a suit built by Iron Man," Ariel says. "While I think he ripped off the Mech Batsuit."

Felix puffs out his chest. "This is a Neo Golem original." He launches into an explanation behind the name, which boils down to this: If Felix were a superhero, that would be his code name.

"So we have a gun"—I pat the back of my pants—"and the Neo-Golem suit. Anyone else feel like it's not enough?"

"Depends on how many of the so-called Filthy Bastards will be there," Itzel says. "I don't care, though. It's the only lead we've got."

I stroke Pom's fur. She's beginning to scare me slightly. "How about we swing by my apartment?" I suggest. "I've got sleep grenades there, which might help us avoid violence altogether."

Felix steps into his suit and snaps the robot-like faceplate in place. "Sounds good." His voice comes out muffled.

As we exit onto the street, Felix receives a few curious glances, but not as many as he'd get on Earth, outside of theme parks.

We take a car to my apartment, where we grab a couple of sleep grenades and a bite to eat. While we're at it, I ask Felix to teach me how to use the gun, since he seems to have the experience.

"Right." He takes the gun from me and presses a button on the side. An antiquated-looking screen shows up above the gun—clearly, this isn't a new model. He points at a self-explanatory label on the screen. "This controls if the gun's ray is lethal or not." He sets the gun to stun mode and aims it at Ariel.

"Ha-ha," she says humorlessly. "Suit or not, I can still break you in half."

With a huff, Felix points the gun at my window. "It's really this simple. Point and shoot." He mimes squeezing the trigger.

I take the gun and practice summoning and hiding the screen. It's as easy as Felix said. I stick the gun into the back of my pants. "Got it. Let's go."

We summon another car and head straight for the location Napoleon provided, which turns out to be a seedy-looking cul-de-sac in one of the worst parts of Gomorrah.

"At least no one will mind Felix's suit," Ariel says, wrinkling her nose as we step out onto a urine-stained street decorated by piles of never-picked-up garbage. It's beyond gross, even with the cool breeze that's blowing away the worst of the stench. I hold my breath the best I can, but the putrid aroma seeps into my nostrils anyway.

Itzel really owes me one. The germs here must be almost as bad as on Earth.

Napoleon's directions lead us to what once was a storefront but is now boarded up and missing a sign.

"No way to see what's waiting for us inside," Ariel whispers as she tries to peek behind the plastic covering the windows.

Kit makes herself look like an orc. "I could pretend to be a newbie who wants to join the gang."

"No," Itzel whispers. "Let's stick to Bailey's sleep grenade plan."

Nodding, I check the door.

It's locked.

I take out my lockpicks, but Felix puts a hand on my shoulder before I can use them. He then shoots the door with an arc of magenta energy. "In case there's an alarm," he quietly explains.

Still in her orc form, Kit eyes the door dubiously. "I don't think this place has functional indoor plumbing, let alone alarms."

I shush them and get to work with the lockpicks. Everyone watches my hands in fascination. As soon as the lock gives in, I carefully open the door and toss in the grenade. Closing the door, I count the seconds in my head to make sure whoever's inside has fallen asleep and the gas has neutralized, letting us walk in safely.

"Hey!" a voice growls behind us. "What the puck are you doing?"

Startled, we spin around as one.

Scowling at us is a veritable army of Filthy Bastards.