Deadtown (19 page)

Well, that werewolf cameraman had been willing to fight Kane for the tape, and probably to the death, knowing werewolves. But I didn’t say that, either. After all, when the opportunity to make a quick buck arises, PAs and norms come out even in the greed stakes.

Up ahead, on the other side of the street, two figures appeared at the corner. They were too far away for me to make out their features, but something about them made me think of my earlier visitors—the ones who’d broken down my door. “Goon Squad!” I hissed in a loud whisper, shoving my zombie sideways into the shadows of a recessed doorway.

The zombie tripped first, going over like a bowling pin. I sprawled on top of her. Underneath us, something groaned and cursed, sounding more sleepy and annoyed than hurt. We’d stumbled over a vampire junkie sleeping it off.

A silhouette loomed over us, features indistinguishable with the moonlight behind. I braced myself, expecting to see Norden’s gun shoved in my face. By now, he’d undoubtedly read up on shapeshifters enough to know that, yes, guns could hurt me. Bad.

“What are you doing?” Kane asked, his voice perfectly calm.

“Shh. Didn’t you see? Goon Squad patrol.” I rolled deeper into the doorway, motioning to Kane to follow. If the Goons hadn’t seen us, we could still hide. “Don’t step on the junkie.”

He stayed where he was.

“Kane, are you crazy? If they catch these two out of Deadtown without a permit, they’ll take them away.”

He laughed, a deep, silvery chuckle that gradually rose in pitch and intensity. I peered out of my hiding place. Kane held his stomach and threw back his head, looking ready to howl at the moon. Except he was laughing. Usually I like Kane’s laugh—and heaven knew he could use one right then—but it’s hard to enjoy somebody’s mirth when you have no idea what’s so goddamn funny.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wiping his eyes. “It’s just that, well, you took off so fast, and then,
boom!
” He clutched his stomach again. Across the street, the figures stopped. And looked directly at us. They weren’t Norden and Sykes, but they were definitely Goons. They stepped into the street and headed our way.

They got bigger and meaner-looking as they got closer. Showdown time. I stood and stepped out of the doorway. The zombies were out of it, and Kane had finally cracked under all the pressure or something. It was up to me to handle the situation.

The only problem was, I didn’t have a clue how.

I tensed, ready for a fight. The human Goon I could take easily, but not his zombie partner. Not on my own. There was only one way. I’d have to shift. Into something big and dangerous and preferably armor plated. I didn’t like to shift this close to the full moon—it made the animal consciousness stronger—but if I was going to protect Kane and these zombies, I had no choice.

I closed my eyes and focused. A rhinoceros. It was the only thing I could think of that might work. I’d seen one on a rampage on a nature show, trampling everything in its path. I brought that image to mind and tried to feel the rhino’s anger. Threat . . . rage . . . protect my own. I felt a bubbling sensation under my skin as the shift began, a hardening at the tip of my nose, my limbs starting to thicken. God, I hoped I could hang on to enough of my personality to keep from goring the Goons to death. Then the bubbling intensified into a throb, and I didn’t care anymore. Pain shot through my head as my skull began to lengthen and grow.

A hand on my arm startled me out of my concentration. How dare—? But the touch was gentle, and I opened my eyes to see somebody . . . No, wait, I knew this being. Kane. It was Kane, looking perfectly normal and in control. “Don’t, Vicky,” he said. “It’s not necessary.”

Not necessary. Not necessary. The meaning of those words got through, and I tried to slam on the brakes. Once a shift has started, it takes a huge amount of effort and will to cut it short. I staggered backward, thinking,
Stop, stop, stop
. I pictured my image in the mirror, my strawberry blonde hair, my heart-shaped face. I focused on what it feels like to be me—me, in my body. No armor plating, no horns. The pain in my confused body doubled me over, and I clutched my stomach as the throbbing subsided back to a bubbling, then gave way to nausea and a splitting headache. If Kane had waited five seconds longer to say “not necessary,” it would’ve been too late.

“She all right?” a voice asked.

“Fine, fine,” I heard Kane reply, sounding all hale and hearty and aren’t-we-all-good-old-boys. “A little too much to drink, that’s all.”

Thanks, Kane. Here I was, ready to risk my life to protect him, and he’s telling the cops I’m a drunk. I’d kick his ass for that. As soon as I could stand up straight again.

Kane and the Goons were discussing what a fine evening it was. As the world gradually came back into focus around me, I saw Kane hand some papers to the human Goon. He inspected them for a moment, then gave them back.

“Need help getting everyone home?” he asked, sounding downright friendly.

I stepped forward. More like a weave, really, but it was forward. “No, thanks.” My voice came out as a bellow, sounding like, well, an angry rhino. I cleared my throat. “We’re fine.”

The human Goon shook his head and shot Kane a sympathetic look. Then he and his partner resumed their patrol, and I smacked Kane in the shoulder.

“I thought you didn’t have permits for those zombies!”

He looked surprised. “Why would you think that?”

“At Creature Comforts. You told Daniel you’d taken them out of Deadtown without a permit.”

“Stop saying ‘zombie.’ Anyway, I’m a lawyer. Do you seriously think I’d break the law
and
risk the lives of these two people? Of course I got permits.”

He tugged on his half-asleep zombie, who shambled forward, and they moved along Washington Street. I was faced with the problem of getting my zombie back on her feet. She lay facedown in the doorway, one arm thrown across the vampire junkie. They looked almost cozy together—or would have, if either of them had looked a little less like death warmed over.

I yanked on her arm, which raised her off the ground a bit, but she was so stiff—nothing would bend the way it was supposed to—that I couldn’t get her to her feet.

“Will you hurry up?” Kane called from down the street. “I’ve got at least two dozen phone calls I should be making right now.”

I looked down at my zombie and her junkie companion, then stepped over the pair of them to get behind her. Crouching, I got both arms under her, one at the armpit and the other at midthigh. I called on the remnants of brute rhinoceros strength and heaved. As I straightened, I lifted her from the ground. I stepped over the junkie and out of the doorway. It was like carrying a plank, but I had her.

The zombie groaned and squirmed a bit, and I shushed her like a mother comforting a half-awake infant. As we passed under a streetlight, I could see clumps of powder sticking to her greenish-gray cheek. This female may have been human once, but she sure as hell wasn’t now. She was a zombie—and she’d still be a zombie no matter what politically correct name Kane or anybody else called her. She uttered another small groan.

“C’mon, hon,” I said, “Let’s get you home.” Still weaving a little, I hurried down the block after Kane.

 

 

WE PASSED THROUGH THE TREMONT STREET CHECKPOINT into Deadtown and almost immediately ran into Tina and one of her friends. They both wore low-slung jeans and tight belly shirts that showed off a couple of inches of zombie pelvis. The temperature was close to freezing, but the undead don’t feel the cold.

“What’s with the crashed-out zombies?” Tina asked.

“Don’t call them zombies,” Kane said. “It’s demeaning to them and you both.”

Tina rolled her bloodred eyes in the way only a teenage girl can, and then looked at me inquiringly.

“Kane was making a political commercial.”

Tina’s jaw dropped. “A commercial? Like for TV? Why didn’t you ask me? I would’ve—”

“You had school,” I reminded her. “In fact, is school even out for the night yet?”

Tina and her friend exchanged a look.

“Tina, you of all people should know better.” Tina and a friend—this one, maybe—had gotten zombified because they’d skipped school to go shopping. If Tina hadn’t cut class that day, she would’ve been miles away from the plague zone.

She shrugged. “So what? I mean, what’s gonna happen to us now? We’re already dead.”

Good point. But still. “If you want to learn demon-fighting, you’ve got to be willing to study.”

“I am! I’m reading that book you gave me. Jenna even saw me, didn’t you, Jenna?” Tina’s friend nodded and popped her gum. “Anyway,” Tina said, “stop trying to change the subject.” She planted herself directly in front of Kane, fists on her skinny hips. “How come you didn’t ask me to be on TV? I’d be way better than those two corpses. Are you sure they’re even reanimated?”

“I don’t have time for this nonsense.” Kane moved on, guiding his zombie around the two girls.

“Hey—”

“Tina, don’t bug him now. He’s had a bad night.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, what about me? I—”

“You,” I said, “should be studying. I’ll come over and quiz you on the first twenty-five pages of Russom—”

“
Twenty-five?
But that’s—”

“The first twenty-five pages, tomorrow night, before school. Six o’clock—be ready.”

“Or what?”

“Or our deal’s off. If you’re not going to be serious, I’m not going to teach you.”

Tina kicked at the curb. “Could you at least bring your flamethrower? That was cool.”

It was my turn for an eye-roll. It was a pretty good one, I thought, for an old lady of twenty-eight.

 

 

BOTH ZOMBIES WERE SAFE IN THEIR BEDS, SLEEPING IT OFF. They’d snooze through the day and wake up around sunset, starving, but no longer craving human blood. Five or six pizzas each, and they’d be as good as new. Or as good as newly risen, anyway.

Kane put his arm around me and pulled me close as we walked. I snuggled in, enjoying his warmth, the solidness of his body. I sighed contentedly, happy to be in this moment. Safe and warm. Then I ducked out from under his arm. The things I had to discuss with Kane weren’t exactly cuddly.

He looked at me, surprised, when I pulled away.

“Kane,” I said, “I know you’re worried about that tape, but I wasn’t exaggerating when I said we’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

“Yes?”

I told him about what happened on Commodore Wharf: killing the Harpies, Difethwr’s arrival, its message and sudden departure. Goose bumps prickled my arms as I talked, and when I mentioned the Destroyer the demon mark itched. Kane listened intently, nodding from time to time.

“This is what you were talking to Costello about?”

“Yeah.” I watched for any flash of jealousy but came up empty. Kane was focused on our Hellion problem. Well, that was good. I guess. “He’s going to talk to the Witches of the Shield, see if they have any idea who punched a hole in it.”

“And whether they can find the hole and repair it?”

“They can’t do that! Not while the Destroyer is running around Boston. They’d trap it inside the city. It’ll tear the place apart.”

“From what you say, that’s its plan, anyway. They’ve got to fix the shield soon, Vicky, or more Hellions will come.”

I was worried about that, too. A legion of Hellions would attack in one terrifying strike, destroying everything in its path. No building left standing, no survivors. It was possible that Difethwr, or the sorcerer who’d bound it, was calling to others of its kind. A sorcerer would have to be insane to try to raise a legion of Hellions—but any sorcerer who’d dare to bind Difethwr was already just plain crazy or else too arrogant to be on speaking terms with reality.

Kane half turned toward me. “Was the Hellion there for you or for your client?”

“Me. Definitely me. I didn’t force it off, Kane. I didn’t fight it at all, except for throwing some salt around. It delivered a message to me, then it left.”

“Are you sure, though? It killed one of your clients already, and it didn’t speak to you then. It didn’t even show up while you were there.”

I remembered that evil presence in George Funderburk’s bedroom and shivered. True, the Hellion hadn’t spoken to me then. But it had been close by. Very close by. My demon mark tingled at the memory. That night, perhaps the sorcerer had called the Destroyer but not yet bound it. And the Hellion, searching for the source of the call, had responded to its own essence. In me. The thought made me queasy.

Kane was still speaking. “You can’t assume that the connection is you. It might be something else entirely.”

“Like what?”

“Well, both men had been suffering from demon infestations.”

“Drudes versus Harpies. Not the same at all.”

“Okay, I’ll take your word for that. So it’s not the clients’ demons. But my point still holds. There might be another connection, one we’re not seeing.”

I stopped in my tracks. “Are you even
listening
to me? The Hellion said my name. It went there to find me.” My voice sounded shrill, even to my own ears.

“Maybe you’re right.” He took my hand. “Maybe I just don’t want something that nasty to be coming after you.” We walked for a while in silence. His hand felt strong, clasped around mine.

We stopped at Kane’s building on Winter Street. He folded his arms around me and drew me close against him. I pressed my face into his muscled chest. He was warm, so warm, and even here in the middle of the city he smelled like a forest after a summer rain.

He stroked my hair. “Do you want to come in?”

Yes,
I thought. More than anything, I wanted to go up to Kane’s apartment and feel warm and protected in his king-sized bed. I was tired of standing alone against the demons. I wanted Kane to hold me and fill me with his strength and let me know that everything was all right. But I had things to do. I sighed, rubbing my cheek against his jacket. “I thought you had two dozen phone calls to make.”