Resurrection (8 page)

“Were the zombies slow, plodding?” Abraham’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses.

“They were faster than I would have liked,” I pointed out my wounded leg. “But I don’t recall them setting any land speed records.”

“Then Reven was probably not among them.”

I stared at Abe. He must have seen I had no clue what he was talking about.

“Were Reven nearby, his zombies would siphon more energy from their master, making them quicker, more lifelike. It is an innate part of the energy transfer, alluding to his presence.”

“Good to know. That being the case, he probably wasn’t there.” Neither seemed all that surprised. “There were, however, zombies missing,” I added.

Their eyes widened. “What do you mean by
missing
?”

“Somewhere in the neighborhood of two hundred bodies have disappeared from Rest Land in the last week, or so.” I kept the source of my information to myself. “I estimated there were around seventy in the hole. Now add in the ones I killed at the strip club and we’re only looking at about a hundred accounted for. Where are the rest of them?”

Abraham wrung his hands, the knuckles turning white. “We’ve had reports from other cemeteries that they, too, are missing bodies. All told, we’re looking at another two to three hundred.”

I whistled. “So we’ve got four hundred zombies, give or take, still running amok?” There was some major undead mischief afoot.

“Something in that range, yes.” Abraham nodded. “We need to find Reven and ascertain what he is up to.”

Captain Obvious to the rescue. I wondered if he needed a cape. “If bodies are missing from all sides of town, we need to get some eyes on the cemeteries, maybe even the morgue.”

“Already done,” Rahim told me. “Though I’m not sure it’ll do us any good. Reven would have to be pretty stupid to make it so easy, especially now that he knows someone is looking.”

Having spent five hundred years mingling with humanity, I couldn’t rule the possibility out. Magic didn’t make people smarter. “What about the mausoleum chamber?”

“We’ll send Katon to examine it. Maybe he can find a clue there.”

“And me?”

“Do what you do best, Frank.” Rahim smiled, his eyes teasing.

“There are laws against that now.”

Abraham sighed, choosing not to reply, and returned his attention to his computer. Rahim only chuckled. I got up, said my goodbyes, and headed out the door.

Rahim always said I stumbled my way through life, getting by on dumb luck and brass balls. The sad part was he was probably right. That being the case, I figured why fight it. Trouble would find me when it was good and ready.

Until it did, I was gonna have a beer.

Chapter Seven

A couple of beers and a sip of my uncle’s blood later, the night having crept past the witching hour, I wandered down to Fiesta Street. Relegated to the butt-end of Old Town, the street was home to the seediest, the most questionably legal, and by far the most immoral of night-life establishments to be found above ground. If you were looking for a good time that truly defined the word taboo, this was the place to be. I came here often.

Pun intended.

Just off the desert, like the majority of the fun parts of Old Town, this was as good a place as any to expect zombie trouble. While DRAC watched the cemeteries, I figured I’d try another angle. With Reven already claiming upwards of four hundred zombies, it didn’t make any sense to me that he’d bother to raise any more. Unless he was planning on taking over the world with an army of slow-moving corpses, he had to have enough for his plans, whatever they may be. Though it didn’t hurt to keep an eye out, I couldn’t picture him puttering around the graveyards waiting to be caught. That’s the first place anyone looks when they’re trying to find a necromancer. So, thinking along those lines, I decided to go fishing where the most appetizing bait could be found.

On any given night, Fiesta Street was ripe for the plucking. Scores of horny partiers wandered drunkenly, splitting their time and crumpled money between the raunchy bars, strip clubs, and porn stores. Always busy, yet saddled with a clientele as disposable as paper plates, the street might as well have had a target painted on it.

Dressed way down in a stained sweatshirt and ratty jeans, I weaved my way down the cracked and bulging sidewalk, my eyes taking it all in from under the shadows of my hood. After dodging an affectionate drunk and sloughing off an insistent panhandler who felt the world owed him something, I slipped into a dark alley beside one of the furthermost buildings. After checking to be sure I was alone, I shimmied up the wobbly fire escape, trying my best to ignore its tortured squeaks, which threatened to dump me on my ass, and made my way to the roof. Up top, I headed for the dilapidated stairwell hut.As I neared it, I spotted a dark shape lurking in the shadows. I drew my gun and let my senses loose. I wanted to know what I was up against. A second later I reined them in, shoving my gun back into its holster.

“What are you doing here, Veronica?”

The shape straightened and drifted out of the dark. My ex-wife’s impressive curves were defined even in the moonlit dimness.

“I’d ask you the same thing, but this being Fiesta Street I’m not so sure I really need an answer.” She grinned wide as she stepped toward me, her hands hovering near the blades at her hips.

“Ah, the irony of you implying I’m here for something illicit.” My eyes were focused on her chest, but not for the reasons you might assume. Though I will admit it was one hell of a view, I was more interested in the tension of her shoulders, the positioning of her feet. She was expecting a fight. I wasn’t here for that. “Relax, woman. As pissed off at you as I am, I’m not at the point of taking it out of your hide.”

Her eyes met mine. We’d known each other long enough, and been intimate beyond what’s legal in most states, that she had to realize I was being honest. After a few seconds, her hands dropped away from her weapons and her shoulders slumped.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, you and I aren’t all skippy-doodle, but I’m not looking to put a bullet in you. Stick to business and we’ll be cool.”

She stared at me hard for a few seconds, but I couldn’t read her expression. She’d gotten better at hiding her feelings. For that matter, she’d gotten better at everything since we’d divorced—that hurt a little. It’s like finding out a woman has gone lesbian right after you dated. It puts a serious dent in your ego, let me tell you.

I’d been surprised by how well she fought when we’d gotten into it during the Asmoday fiasco. Now with the blades at her hips, worn like they’d been there her whole life, I was certain she could handle herself. If she wielded them only half as well as she performed her
other
physical skills, she was beyond dangerous.

Her expression lightened, I guessed resigning herself to the fact I was gonna be difficult. She was right.

“Back to my question. What are you doing here?” I already knew the answer, but it didn’t hurt to be thorough. These days, you could never be sure who was looking to put a fork in you.

She drew in a deep breath and let it out slow, delaying her answer. There was more to her presence here than hunting zombies. “I wanted to see you.” It came out in a rush.

My pride stroked, my crotch stirring, I sighed. “I thought we were gonna keep this about business.” Stubbornness is one of my more refined character traits.

I thought I saw a pinch of sadness color her face, but it disappeared so fast I had to have imagined it. Her patented smile kicked in, wiping away all traces of anything except confidence.

“Fair enough.” She gestured to the street. “If ever there was a good place to kidnap people without making a fuss, this would be it. I thought if they showed up, I could follow the undead back to the necromancer who’s controlling them.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” I beamed, her presumption validating my own. What can I say? I’m easily pleased. “And by the way, the necro’s name is Reven.” It was clear she hadn’t known that. A grateful smile crept to her lips. I basked in its glow thinking we’d managed to slip past our rocky start. But as usual, I had to go and ruin it. “Plus it doesn’t hurt that the place is wall-to-wall sex either, huh?” I cringed inside, my words coming out bitter sounding.

She glared at me for a moment, then shook her head. “You’re the one that wanted this to be all business, so don’t go there.”

I nodded, the weight of my regret pressing down. It didn’t matter how much time passed or how deep Veronica wounded me, I was always gonna come back for more. We both knew it. No matter how hard I fought against it, she had wrapped me up in her web a long time ago, and there was no untangling myself. We were connected in a way that defied the sense or sanity of it all. I hadn’t been that wrapped up in a woman since I was a kid, and it sucked to admit it. My emotional freedom was a farce.

Sobered by that thought, I took my own advice and put my mind back on task. I’d worry about my heart later.

“Why don’t you just track Reven to wherever he’s hiding? He had to have left some kind of trail.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slow before answering, “Because necromancers aren’t like you or me. Their life force isn’t a positive energy I can lock on to. Empowered by death, corrupted even, their souls are like spiritual black holes. They’re a swirling mass of negativity. It’s as if they don’t exist with regards to magical detection.”

That wasn’t a comforting thought. I’d always relied on my senses, blunt as they are, to give me a heads up in tight spots. If Reven were invisible to them, I had lost an advantage. Not that that was anything new. I was always in over my head, but that didn’t mean I enjoyed it.

“What about his henchman?” I already knew the answer. Veronica’s presence here meant she couldn’t track him either.

She shook her head. “Same deal applies. He’s tainted by Reven’s association, the sharing of his art. If we’re going to find them, we’re going to have to do this the old fashioned way.”

“Stumbling blindly and getting lucky?”

Veronica suppressed a grin. “I didn’t say
your
way.” She turned away and went to the ledge of the building, leaning over to survey the street.

I hung back a few seconds and watched her. Of all the fantastic wonders in the world there are none as awe inspiring as a fit woman in a tight pair of jeans. The sight chased the chill from the air. After a moment of quiet reflection, I adjusted my appreciation and waddled over to join her.

The bright moonlight, enhanced by the dull flicker of the streetlights below, made it easy to see. Down on the street, people scrambled about, filing in and out of the various establishments, wandering from one gilded debauchery to another. If Veronica hadn’t been there, I’d have been jealous. I could use a little debauchery right about now.

Who couldn’t?

We sat there on the ledge for about an hour, settling in to a resigned silence. Afraid to stir things up, I kept my mouth shut. She must have felt the same way—that I’d say something stupid—so all I got out of her was the occasional weak smile before her eyes went back to watching the street.

Up above the chaotic meanderings, separated from the cloying scent of sweaty flesh and the drunken rumble of carnal appetite, I was bored. The beers I’d drunk earlier had run their course through my system, and down the wall of the stairwell hut, and I was starting to get tired.

There is nothing more brain-sapping than a stakeout. Sitting around, picking your nose while you wait for something, anything, to break the monotony. I could never have made it as a cop. I’m down with doughnuts and all, but patience and I haven’t spoken in ages.

Just as my eyelids started to flutter, I felt more than heard, Veronica hop to her feet. My eyes sprung open and followed the direction of her stare. It took me a few seconds to focus, but I finally spotted was she was looking at.

There in a shrouded alley just off the main thoroughfare, was a huddled mass of figures. Though I couldn’t see them clearly, I had a pretty good idea what they were. As my adrenaline battled away my tiredness, I heard the fluttering of their inane mutterings that drifted in the night air, discernible even over the white noise of the street. That clinched it. It was a zombie’s night out.

I leaned in toward Veronica, trying to ignore how good she smelled, and nodded toward the alley. “Our tour guides have arrived,” I whispered.

She put her finger to her lips and leaned back a little as the mass of undead started to move. I stayed where I was and watched as they poured out onto the street. It’s not like they were gonna look up. Everything they needed was right in front of them; a staggering buffet of plastered human flesh.

As if to prove my point, the drunken Fiesta Street patrons in the road and on the sidewalks made it easy. A few pointed at the corpses shambling toward them, their whiskey-soaked brains too addled to feel threatened. Most didn’t even notice.

That is until the first scream rang out. There’s nothing like the shrill screech of abject terror to clear those synapses. Frightened into action, the street exploded into chaos. Patrons ran every which way, but in the end, it did them no good.

From other alleys, those we couldn’t see from where we stood, more zombies emerged to head off the fleeing patrons. There must have been hundreds of them. A mottled mass of dead flesh wedged into the street, blocking it off in every direction. Zombies flooded into the buildings where more panicked screams burst out. The patrons caught out in the open were drowned in a sea of corpses. Broken necks and crushed larynx’s abounded.