The streets of Ankmapak by moonlight were hardly romantic. The ever-present fog plunged the world into pearly clouds, lit only by widely spaced light orbs dangling from wrought-iron poles. Strangers hurried into and out of my field of vision, but I heard them coming long before I saw them, and could track their retreating footsteps as they disappeared behind me.

  The urchins were out in force, but the conditions forced them to stick close to me, so the little bastards had dropped all subtlety and had formed a phalanx that trailed along as I went. Three groups of three brats followed me. Taking every turn I took, matching their pace to mine.

  Back on Earth, I would have considered myself more of a stalker than a stalkee, not that I was ever convicted on that score. And it wasn’t as sinister as that sounded. I was just very fond of Janice. Unfortunately, she and the judge didn’t understand the innocent purity of my infatuation.

  As a dragon, the presence of my tails was infuriating. Setting aside the fact that they were all dysfunctional adults trapped in teenage bodies and were likely just as unpleasant as anyone you could ever hope to avoid, the thought of eating, burning and stomping what looked to me like a bunch of kids was simply unacceptable.

  Karmically, I was pretty sure I was in the shitter at the moment and murdering a bunch of “children” because they had been caught up in an Outremonde crime ring, and had annoyed me as a result, was not going to go down well with IMPS.

  “I’m just going shopping, you little shits,” I snarled, then nodded my head apologetically at the nice young couple that had hoved out of the mist just as I spoke. A sneer and a head shake later, they filtered through the kids following me, muttering about the decline of social standards in the modern city.

  It must be weird to be a native on Helstat. Not only Earthlings, but weirdos from other universes as well, all of whom arrived with baggage and ideas. I reckoned all the magitech appliances, like the ovens I’d acquired for the Cod once upon a time, had been created by lunatics like Tim trying to reinvent modern appliances from back home.

  The urge to at least scare the urchins away was strong. Vanity was offended, Wrath was incensed. I wasn’t scared of Dalgliesh; I’d already de-fanged him by taking out Big Kenny. I was angry that I couldn’t settle the matter personally. Maybe…

  As I entered the Gloom, the street lights began to flicker intermittently, and the people who entered the bubble of my visual sense looked poorer. Dirtier and hungrier. Cheeks drawn and thin, clothes covered in muck and marks.

  I stepped into the sterile, supermarket-lit environment of the Pap Emporium and grimaced around. Phillpot had recreated the worst aspects of shopping from my old world and thrown in some magic items to sweeten the deal. I much preferred what Tex had done in the Bonanza. Dribbled wax, weird skulls and stuffed animals had a certain ambience.

  If a man has to buy an enchanted dagger or a Potion of Enforced Impotence, he wants to do it in an environment with the right vibe. The Emporium was sadly lacking in that regard.

  “Welcome to Phillpot’s, I love you.”

  I ignored the greeter and made my way to the counters. Floating demons of various vaguely humanoid forms manned the tills, and I waited impatiently in line until I reached the front.

  “Do I know you?” I asked the creature with fluttering bat wings and a third eye on its chin.

  “Don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure, you disgusting sputum of a mortal’s pisstube.” He sounded like a cheerful kid, maybe nine or ten, with a high, piping voice that oozed a false innocence.

  “Call me one more name, and I’ll send you back to hell in a hand basket. Nyal, I know you’re watching. I’m here as you asked.”

  He crossed his arms, each of which ended in three clawed digits and scowled at me with all three eyes. “Do you really want to go there? Summoning the manager right at the start of our interaction, Mr—”

  My fist closed around his throat, and I snatched him over the counter. “Why is it always some guard, or minion, or mutated monster that insists on fucking around and finding out? Nyal?”

  “Greetings, Bob. Please come through, Phillpot is waiting for you in his boudoir.”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  I released the demon and reluctantly followed the tear in reality, careful to avoid looking directly at any of the horrors that briefly showed when the tentacles protruding into this world moved.

  The door to Phillpot’s bedroom opened as Nyal approached, and I paused to take a deep breath. Don’t be naked, don’t be naked, don’t be naked…

  He wasn’t, thank IMPS.

  “Bob!” He waved me in from the chaise longue, cigar smoke pooling in the air above him, shifting and moving unnaturally.

  “I shall leave you to it.” The tentacles protruding from a portal hell withdrew, and the rent in reality snapped closed.

  “She’s still here, isn’t she?” I asked as I moved over to an empty seat.

  “Of course. I’m never alone.”

  “How was washing your socks in your dreams?”

  He made a clicking noise, weirdly insectile coming from his human form. “Not fun. There are lots of uses for a favourite sock. I want in.”

  “You can leave your damn sock fetish out of this conversation.”

  “I want in on the Bonanza.”

  “Tex is already representing you, it seems. Not sure how that works, considering he’s one of my contracted minions? He was one of my first, as well.” The last came out as a growl. I did not like thieves.

  “He isn’t your property, Bob. He’s a free man, despite the contract he signed with you; he remains free to sign others as long as he doesn’t work against you or break the earlier one. I’ve been friends with Tex a lot longer than you have.”

  “We aren’t friends. Me and Tex, I mean,” I added hastily as his face fell. No point pissing off the creepy insect-warlock. “Here.”

  I held out a hand in which five angel feathers appeared, the light glinting on their semi-divine edges. An invisible force plucked them from my fingers, and they drifted over to Phillpot, who reached greedily to snatch them. They immediately vanished.

  “Thank you. So what’s it going to take for me to… franchise?”

  “You know what it means?”

  “Ruthlessly abuse my brand and power to exploit small-time entrepreneurs and crush any independent competition?”

  “No?”

  “I’ve had a chat with a few people from your world.”

  “It doesn’t have to be like that. How do you feel about Denarios?”

  “Something about the way you said that tells me you’re now on first-name terms with the font of gold.”

  “We’ve spoken.”

  “He’s a nice guy. I still don’t understand his concept of this ‘Prime’, but I am intrigued.”

  “Oh god, subscription-based next-day delivery is coming to Helstat.”

  “What?” Phillpot asked, suddenly focusing on me.

  “Forget I mentioned it.” He lifted a grape from a nearby bowl and popped it in his mouth while glowering at me suspiciously. “ You’ve got your feathers; we need to negotiate on other matters. I hear you know a bit about who I’ll be facing in the arena tomorrow?”

  “More than a bit. I don’t think your employer likes you.” Phillpot chuckled to himself, and I suppressed an urge to douse him in fire.

  “So why don’t you fill me in, and I’ll illuminate you in the ways of franchise-fu?” I ground out.

  “Your first opponent is a guildsman. Trained in the arts of fighting beasts.”

  “So I fight him as a mammal. Easy.”

  “It won’t be that simple, Bob. But it isn’t a terrible idea. You won’t be able to fly, but your magic may help. You are expected to win this first round.” Phillpot tossed a grape into the air and caught it between his teeth.

  “I’m meant to win that one?”

  “Of course. No one is going to be betting on you going down in the first round. At least no one with any brains,” he sneered.

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “The arena makes most of its money from concessions and gambling.”

  “Food, booze and bets?”

  “Your world must have been a marvellous place. The first round is meant to look like a deadly challenge; the idiots will see the odds are stacked against you and bet on your enemy. But you’ll come through it fairly easily. The second round is meant to exploit the damage you will suffer in the first.”

  “And what will the second round be?” I asked wearily.

  “Beasts of some sort. The kind that are good at exploiting a wounded dragon.”

  “He knows I’ve got god forged scales, right?”

  “He does not.” Phillpot grinned. “Your true power is unknown to him. How much do you want for a couple of scales?”

  “Piss off. What are the beasts going to be?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Nyal?”

  “Oh, you bastard. Look—yes, I know Nyal—we aren’t sure. Dammit, you sadistic demoness, I don’t care what you threaten me with—He’s bought up a pretty varied selection of beasts. It’s unlikely to be a swarm. Individually, they’re too weak, and a dragon's breath attack is too effective. I’d expect it to be a hunting pack, but there are dozens of options at the ringmaster's disposal.”

  I sighed. So some prick whose class would probably be dragonlance, or lizardfucker, followed by some monsters who specialise in hunting creatures like me.

  “And the third round?”

  “That I don’t know. If I were a betting man, and I am, I’d say wizard, mage, or some kind of sorcerer. But it will have to remain a mystery. Now, I’ve helped you. Without a contract. Are you a lizard of honour?”

  “Of course I am. I have a position in mind, I think Nyal will approve. You’re in with Denarios, you’re a warlock, a rare enough skill. How would you like a job?”

  “I won’t be one of your—shut up, woman!—bloody minions. I will always remain a free being.” His fingers clicked rhythmically, nails clacking together.

  “Do you want to rub your legs together or something? You’re like a grasshopper, right?

  “My back legs. And I won’t be one of your peons!”

  “No worries, Jimminy Cricket. I was thinking two birds with one stone. Or rather, one temple. And actually, it’s more like three stones. Come be the priest in my temple to Denarios, set up a shop on the side, gain access to my portal network, and all you need to do is agree to a contract specifying we never act against each other.”

  “Really? SHUT UP, NYAL! I KNOW! Yeah, ok, let’s do it. All of this hinges on you not dying in the arena in the morning, though.”