A Prison of Worlds (The Chained Worlds Chronicles Book 1) (5 page)

“No,
just kidding,” I offered brightly, ignoring his low growl.  “Seriously though,
the zombies have obviously been around a while.  Officer Cromwell has known of
the gang for a bit. I doubt they were all turned yesterday.”  Cromwell
thoughtfully nodded his head.  He looked like he had swallowed something sour.

“Vampires
tend to enter a place and entrench. They make themselves a home and...”  I
paused here for a moment to think.  My information on vampires was flawed.  In
my own dimension, vampires were an evil plague that started from a single extra
dimensional entity and spread to human minions, and soon you had a horde of
thousands of nearly mindless vampires.   In short, they held an eerie similarity
to how the zombies and their maker operated. 

When
I had heard that vampires and shifters had been granted protection under the
law, I almost swallowed my tongue.  Images of a land controlled by vampires had
flitted through my mind in several nightmarish variations.  Shifters were one
thing, after all except for a few animal instincts, a mild pack mentality, and
occasional unfortunate hygiene incidents, they were mostly human, for better or
for worse.  Vampires though... I had to see this.  I had made my way to one of
the vampire clubs to see how the heck this had snuck into society, and been
completely surprised.  These variations were definitely supernatural undead
creatures, but it was hard to deny they had culture; no dead bodies littered
the alleyways or the club nooks and crannies, and most important... they didn't
radiate evil.  Being psychic, I can feel that entire evil thing when it's in
unnatural things.  Humans and other non-mystical races are harder to detect the
evil vibe from.

“They
are also pretty territorial,” I said, picking up my train of thought where I
had left off.  “This looks like the start of a turf war.”

“Would
they as bad as the zombies you mentioned?” Cromwell interjected.

“Worse
actually.”  I waived my hand at the carnage around me.  “These guys didn't
stand a chance.  They share a few invulnerabilities, but on the undead
supernatural food chain the vampires are several rungs higher.”

“What
makes them worse?” Officer Conrad asked.  He seemed to have gotten over the
idea of his city being infested with supernatural horrors and was ready to get
down to business on how to get rid of them.

“Well,
that depends actually.”  I paused and waved my hand at the carnage around us.  “Because
they are territorial, they almost had eliminated competing undead.  Is that a
bad thing?  Well, only you can decide I guess...”

“This
place looks like a butcher's workshop, how can it be good?” Conrad growled out,
the animal in him inching towards the surface.

I
ignored it, though Cromwell and the other officers edged back away from the
armored man.  “Look at it this way.  Every zombie is most likely a murder
victim.  They have no personality and obey the zombie creator without question,
who is the one that most likely killed them.  The magic that animates them also
will likely make them immune to any resurrection techniques.”

“Do
they have souls?” Conrad asked, in a tight voice.

“I
have no idea, ask a priest.  I don't even know if vampires have souls.” I
shrugged.  Humans worry about the silliest things.  I didn't even know if
humans had souls.  Or care.

Conrad
looked startled at the question, the others just looked vaguely nauseated.  “So
what, are these vampire vigilante heroes?”

I
gave him an annoyed glance.  “How the heck should I know?  They could even be a
rival gang.  You can book them for taking the law into their own hands, but
frankly everyone here was already dead when the vampires came in and kicked
butt.  The master got away, so they didn't actually kill anyone, but apparently
a mass murdering zombie master got away.”

“So
they allowed the 'zombie master' to escape,” Cromwell slowly said, as if trying
to get a hold of the situation in terms he could understand.  I had no idea if
the vampires were heroes or villains.  Considering this was the Blight, it was
likely just a rogue vampire gang moving in. That would be just as bad or worse
than the zombies.

“Do
the police actually have a procedure for this?” I asked the flustered cop. 
Conrad looked at me with a thoughtful frown.  I could see he already knew where
I was going with this question.

“Well,
if there's bodies or evidence,” he muttered to himself.

“What
happens when the murder victim gets up and tells the police officer there's no
problem and to run along?” I asked, seeing the poor man wince.

“That’s
why the mayor is trying to form the new department to deal with these things.”
Conrad’s deep voice reassured the younger officer.

I
had my doubts of the effectiveness of such a department unless some of the
older vampires and werewolves joined it.  As we had found here, unless you can
identify what the hell you're actually seeing, having a division of police
officers with supernatural strength isn't going to do squat.  Perhaps my doubts
showed on my face.  I never claimed to have a great poker face.

“It
will be one step in the right direction,” the large man elaborated while
staring at me.  I just shrugged.  Who was I to ruin his dream?  “So how do we
track the zombie master down?”

“That
is the easiest part.  Follow the bodies,” I stated triumphantly.

“We
can't wait for this guy to kill again and raise a new army,” Cromwell squawked
indignantly.

“New
army?  Why would he need a new army?” I asked, puzzled.

“Oh
no.” I saw Conrad looking around with a new eye at the crime scene.  Cromwell
just looked confused.  The poor smuck.

“Oh
yes.  What part of the 'only can be destroyed by fire' shtick did you not
understand?” I know I had mentioned this part before, but I can forgive these
guys for suffering information overload.   It would be a lot to take in if you
weren't used to it.

The
police officers who had been standing around, trying not to look like they
weren't hanging onto our words, almost danced away from the bodies.  Conrad
stayed put, though he was keeping a cautious eye on the corpses and pieces of
corpses.  It probably helped his peace of mind immeasurably to know that he was
strong enough to tear them to pieces if they made a grab at him.  I know it
made me feel better.

“When...”
He cleared his throat as he thought about his question. “When will these things
come alive?”

I
held up my finger dramatically, and then dropped it and shrugged.  “Not a clue.” 
Watching the mixed emotions flit across his face entertained me for a few
seconds before I mercifully continued.  “However, if I had to guess I would say
before tonight, you have a decision to make.”

“Decision?”
the shifter asked as if he wouldn't like the answer.  He was right.

“Yes. 
My educated guess that sometime before sunset these parts are going to start
pulling themselves together and once they do, they are going to make a beeline
for their Sammy’s location,” While I was describing this, my fingers were
making little walking motions.  I am not sure if Italians were quite so emotive
with their hands, but I figured it would be even better to get the point
across.

“Baron
Samedi,” Conrad muttered a correction, deep in thought.

“Oh
my God.” Cromwell made a soft groaning noise in the background.  It startled me
that the man was almost blasé about the missile attack and so squeamish about
animated corpses.  I saw Conrad give him a small frown, though I couldn't tell
if he was concerned about the man or disgusted at his unmanliness.  If it was
the later, he would have seen an echo of Cromwell's unease in the other
officers in the room as they shuffled from foot to foot, subtlety shying away
from the bodies as if they would come alive and tear them apart.

“So...”
the armored man prompted softly.

“So...
you either gather up these pieces and burn them before they pull themselves
together, assuming your police procedures allow it,” I said to Conrad, subtly
reminding him that he had some rules to thread. “Or you follow this army home
to the master and perhaps into the arms of a second army of zombies.”

“I
think we can come up with a compromise.” Conrad's posture changed as he came to
a decision.  “Cromwell, get these parts tagged as hazardous waste.  See if we
can get the paperwork completed to incinerate these without having to go
through decontamination ourselves.  Use the nanite infection protocols.  You
may have to have the chief contact the mayor or it may take too long.  Leave
one complete corpse here.  We will follow it back.”

I
coughed slightly to draw the attention back to me. “And the ambush that may be
waiting for you?”

“What
would you suggest?” Conrad looked at me thoughtfully.

“Only
you and other supernaturally strong creat... er... people are anywhere near
strong enough to defend themselves from one of these, let alone do enough
damage to them so you can burn them.  If you have people tagged for that new
department, I suggest you call them in.  Otherwise, you'll need a posse of
werewolves and vampires.”

I
could see the shifter's lips pursed as he mouthed the word posse.  “Posse?” he
whispered a moment later.  I looked at him in confusion.  Jeremy and I had just
watched a cowboy movie the other week, and the concept was very clear.

“Yeah,
a posse.  Where you deputize a gaggle of strangers to bring some poor SOB to
justice.”  I gestured with my hands.  “You know, a legalized mob!”

“Right,
a posse.”  I could have sworn I saw a slight smile cross his face, but it was
probably my imagination since it didn't crack.

“So
is there anything else I can do for you, or are we done here?” I asked.

“I
think we are done.  Thank you for your consultation.  I will have a check drawn
up for your time.” Conrad nodded to me and I paused in confusion.  What was a
check?  Wait, I was getting paid for this? 

“Um,
thanks.” I had mixed feeling about getting paid for giving advice.  On the one
hand, it’s the standard way mortals deal with one another; on the other hand it
seemed to cheapen my advice.  I figured I would deal with the emotional
conflict by using the money to buy something to put in my house.  Maybe a gem
or bit of gold.

“Oh,
before you go, does this zombie master have access to any other magic?” the shifter
casually asked.  I froze, a storm suddenly going off in my head.  There was no
reason the zombie master would restrict himself to raising the dead.  He could
very well be a caster of another type as well. 

Looking
around the room with a fresh eye, I looked at the walls and ceiling to see if
lightning or fire had marked the surface, gradually becoming somewhat
disappointed in the obvious lack of such damage.  I would have noticed it
coming in, but hope springs eternal.

“Doesn't
look like he used any blatant magic other than the zombie thing.  If you see
any glowing walls or fireballs or sheet lightning you should call me right
away.”  If he did that, maybe he would leave some books behind.  Something
other than zombie-raising books.  Humans are common enough; why would you want
undead humans running around too?

“Is
that likely?” Cromwell asked nervously. 

“Well,
he is a magic user,” I said thoughtfully.  “There's no real reason he couldn't
use non-necromantic magic, but he might not have gotten the hang of it yet.”  I
nodded confidently.  “Yes, he could definitely do that, though since he didn't
do it here I would be more worried about magic circles.  He actually does use
those in his rituals so he must be somewhat conversant in them.”

“What
can he do with circles?” Conrad asked.  Ugh, that was a tricky question.  There
is an entire school of circle magic.  Some are simple protection circles,
others summon and control elemental forces.  They take a lot longer than the
more conventional ‘wave your hand’ and toss a lightning bolt but they are
probably more powerful.  Not terribly transportable though.

“A
lot,” I admitted slowly.  “It’s pretty rare but you can do tornados, instant
death, fireballs, lightning.  You name it.”

“Do
you have any advice?” Conrad asked solemnly.

“Well,
don't step in any big circles on the floor.” I started ticking points off on my
hand. “Be careful of rugs and carpets that may cover these same circles from
sight.  I suggest you have a magic-sensitive with the group.  I hear some
werewolves can smell magic?” I asked tentatively.

“Some
can,” the armored man said shortly.

“Okay,
make sure you bring one and don't go on the carpet.”  At this, I heard a
muffled chuckle from one of the nameless officers in the room.  I frowned; I
really preferred when I said something funny on purpose.  I made a mental note
to ask Jeremy, he was better at catching nuisances.  It’s a culture thing.  “If
he is a circle master he will hold up in a big room with circles in it.  Stay
out of line of sight and shoot him from cover.”

“I
am not sure how practical that may be,” Conrad frowned.

“Well,
he's going to have a lot of advantages.  Your only other option is to destroy
his circles.  That’s easy if they are chalk but if he has built that room from
scratch he could have had everything etched in the floor.  Also, once a circle
is activated they are pretty durable.”