Politics is the art of convincing people who hate each other to pretend they like each other for a common goal.

  Politics in the Necropolis is the art of convincing a Vampire not to drink the blood of the Werewolf sitting next to him while the world ends.

  The Shadow Council met in the old Igua?u Palace. The modernist building was covered in black ivy, and the reflecting pool out front boiled with spectral piranhas.

  I entered the main hall kicking open the double doors, with Valéria and Gristle flanking me as bodyguards. Luna stayed in the rear, holding the diplomatic passports as if they were holy shields.

  At the oval hardwood table, three figures awaited us.

  Magistrate Ossian (The Lich): Polishing his newly healed arm with a silk cloth.

  Baron Vladislaus (Elder Vampire): A pale man in a pinstripe suit, drinking a goblet of O-Negative plasma. He exuded arrogance and cheap cologne.

  Matriarch Yara (Water Mother/Iara): A woman made of river water and silt, sitting (or rather, puddling) in a waterproof chair.

  "The insolent human," hissed Baron Vladislaus, baring his fangs. "Ossian said you fixed his arm. That doesn't give you the right to interrupt our midnight tea."

  "Tea time is over, Baron," I tossed the Helix spy's communication device onto the table. It slid and stopped in front of the Vampire. "And so is your immortality, if you don't listen to me for the next three minutes."

  "Threats?" Matriarch Yara bubbled, the water of her body darkening. "We are the lords of this city. We can drown you in a glass of water."

  "It's not a threat. It's a diagnosis." I activated my watch's holographic projection, displaying the data on Project Behemoth. "Tomorrow, at sunrise, Sovereignty is going to bombard the city. Not with bombs, but with Mana-Devouring Mycelium."

  The Baron laughed, a dry, humorless sound.

  "Fungi? We have survived plagues, wars, and inquisitors. A little mold won't hurt us."

  "This 'mold' was genetically modified to metabolize magical energy," I explained coldly. "You are made of magic. A Vampire is a corpse sustained by blood mana. A Lich is soul mana. An Iara is elemental mana.

  "When the spores touch you, they won't infect the skin. They will digest the magic holding your atoms together. You won't die. You will disintegrate into sentient organic fertilizer."

  Silence fell over the table. The Lich stopped polishing his arm.

  "What is the mortality rate?" asked Ossian, his bureaucratic voice trembling slightly.

  "100% in 40 minutes. No magical barriers will hold, because the fungus eats the barrier."

  Baron Vladislaus stood up, knocking over his goblet of blood.

  "Then we attack! We will send the Gargoyles to intercept the bombers!"

  "Useless," I cut him off. "The spores are microscopic. If you destroy the canisters in the air, you just spread the cloud faster."

  "So we are dead... again?" asked the Matriarch.

  "Not if we perform mass vaccination on the city," I smiled. The Parasite's smile. "I have the formula. But I need your infrastructure."

  Ossian leaned forward, the blue flames in his eyes burning with practical interest.

  "What do you need, Doctor?"

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  "I need full access to the Water Treatment Station (Sanepar). And I need every monster with Ice and Wind affinity there in twenty minutes."

  "For what?" asked the Vampire.

  "The Behemoth fungus is an accelerated growth organism. Its weakness is hunger. If it eats too fast, it collapses.

  "We're going to turn the city's fog system into a giant aerosol can. We're going to saturate the air with Super-Concentrated Necrotic Mana."

  "You want to poison the air?"

  "I want to cause an overdose in the fungus. We're going to give it so much spoiled food that it will die of indigestion before it touches the ground."

  The three leaders looked at each other. It was an insane plan. Entrusting the city's defense to a fugitive human.

  But Ossian looked at his own healed arm. He knew I delivered results.

  "You have the Council's authorization," decreed the Lich. "But if you fail... I will personally reanimate your corpse to clean the Palace toilets for eternity."

  "Fair enough."

  The Water Treatment Station was an industrial maze of rusted pipes and settling tanks.

  Now, it was being converted into the world's largest alchemy lab.

  Ghouls carried bags of Black Salt. Skeletons poured barrels of Magical Formaldehyde into the main tanks.

  Valéria was at the control panel, hacking the hydraulic pump system to reverse the flow.

  "Arthur!" she shouted over the turbine noise. "Pressure is rising! If we reverse to the street sprinklers, the pipes might burst!"

  "Keep the pressure in the red!" I shouted back, pouring a flask of Wyvern Blood (my own blood, donated on the spot) into the mixing tank. "It needs to reach the stratosphere!"

  Luna was on top of the highest water tower. Around her, a choir of Banshees (screaming spirits) floated.

  "Luna!" I called over the radio. "The Banshees' role is to amplify the dispersion! They're going to scream the magic formula into the wind! You are the conductor!"

  "Conductor of a hysterical ghost choir. My career dream!" Luna replied, nervous.

  Gristle was at the station entrance, coordinating the defense with the Werewolves. If any Sovereignty spy tried to sabotage, they'd become dog food.

  I looked at my watch.

  05:45 AM.

  The eastern horizon was starting to lighten. But it wasn't sunlight.

  It was black dots in the sky. High-altitude bomber drones.

  [INVASION ALERT]

  [OBJECTS IDENTIFIED: BIOLOGICAL DISPERSAL CAPSULES.]

  [IMPACT IN 2 MINUTES.]

  I walked to the edge of the main tank. The liquid inside was a bubbling purple soup of necrosis, salt, and forbidden alchemy.

  The smell was horrible. It smelled like an old hospital and thunder.

  "Ossian!" I yelled to the Lich, who was beside the tank. "Now! Freeze the mixture to create micro-crystals!"

  The Lich raised his staff.

  "Level 8 Magic: Breath of Eternal Winter."

  A white beam hit the tank. The liquid didn't freeze into a block; it fragmented into billions of microscopic ice crystals, each carrying the necrotic charge.

  "Valéria, engage pumps!" I ordered.

  "RELEASING THE KRAKEN!" Valéria pulled the master lever.

  A deafening roar shook the ground.

  From the factory chimneys, from the city sewers, from the sprinklers in the parks... a column of cold purple vapor was shot toward the sky.

  The entire city "exhaled" at the same time.

  The cloud rose, meeting the drones up above.

  The Sovereignty capsules opened. The yellow dust (the Behemoth fungus) fell.

  The meeting happened at five hundred meters altitude.

  Yellow met Purple.

  Fungus met Necrosis.

  I held the portable microscope connected to an atmospheric sensor.

  "Come on... eat..." I whispered.

  In the sky, the reaction was violent.

  The Behemoth fungus sensed the necrotic mana. It tried to devour it.

  But the mana was "spoiled." It was too dense. Too toxic.

  The fungus grew explosively, multiplying its size by a thousand in seconds. It became a gray, bloated mass.

  And then... the hunger consumed itself.

  Unable to process the necrotic energy, the fungal cells collapsed.

  POOF.

  POOF. POOF.

  In the sky, gigantic flowers of gray "cotton candy" exploded and disintegrated into inert dust.

  Instead of a deadly plague, what fell over Curitiba was a fine snow of harmless organic ash.

  The Sovereignty drones, detecting that the biological payload was neutralized, turned around and fled.

  In the station courtyard, the monsters looked at the sky.

  A Vampire reached out and caught some of the "snow." It melted without causing harm.

  A cry of victory erupted. Howls, roars, and spectral wails.

  Valéria collapsed into the control chair, laughing.

  Luna came down from the tower, pale but smiling, being hugged by the Banshees (which looked very cold).

  Magistrate Ossian floated over to me.

  "You turned a weapon of mass destruction into... dirty snow."

  "Herd immunity." I wiped the sweat from my forehead. "The fungus ate so much it died of instant morbid obesity."

  The Lich looked at me with something new in his fiery eyes. Respect.

  "The Shadow Council owes you a debt, Arthur Veras. The Necropolis is your ally."

  I nodded, feeling the exhaustion hit.

  "Good. Because now that Sovereignty knows the bio-attack failed... they're going to stop trying to clean us."

  "And what will they do?"

  I looked south, to the road leading even deeper into the darkness.

  "They're going to send the Paladins. And against blind faith, science has to be much more creative."

  The Parasite vibrated.

  [BATTLE WON.]

  [WAR: JUST BEGINNING.]

  "Let's rest for today, Ossian," I said, turning away. "But tomorrow... I want to know where my father's lab is."