Minutes to Midnight (11 page)

Mike nodded slowly. "Do you know a lot about
zombies?"

"I'm afraid I do." She pushed herself up and
then leaned over to offer me her hand. I took it and grunted as she
pulled me to my feet, though I kept a hand on the wall. Mike stood
as well. "But I'd like for you to take me to where you last saw
them. I'll get changed and we can take my car."

"I can't." I headed to the changing room. "I
got a shift tonight. I already pushed it back just to come here and
have all this fun."

"You think that's a good idea?" Mike
followed me down the hall. "Someone's out to drag you into the
Peripheral. Might be safer if you stick with us."

"Mike." I turned and looked up at him. Raven
stood a few feet away. "I've had enough zombies and thinking for
the day. And we need the money." That wasn't really true. I had a
lot of money I hadn't told Mike about. I just…I just wanted a night
of normal.

Raven moved up behind Mike. "Why don't we
accompany the Guardian to his job? Keep an eye out? If there's a
Djin after him, he'd make great bait for me."

I could tell Mike wasn't that enthusiastic
about the idea. He glanced at her and then at me. "Okay. How long's
the shift?"

"'Til one."

"Perfect," Raven said. "Then you can take me
to the cemetery. Hell, we might even crash a dead man's party." She
laughed. It was a pleasant tone and I smiled.

Mike didn't even smile. I think it was the
day's info-dump and the stress that came from overkill that put
Mike on edge. He turned and stood up tall. I recognized his fight
stance. He was prepared. Waiting. Aggressive without force. And
Raven needed to watch out. "You think this is a joke? Those zombies
have killed four people, two of them children. And six nights ago
they nearly dragged Dags off into the dark. If we go to the
cemetery tonight, we go to kick ass."

But Raven didn't let his tone or his
demeanor get to her. Her eyes went black and her features shifted
in that oh–so-familiar way of the Revenant. "Mr. Ross, I know more
about the type of creatures you're hunting than you can possibly
imagine. These aren't Hollywood zombies. They aren't human beings
in high quality latex and paint. These things are real. They're
rotting humans running around, killing living humans. They're
Ghoul-made abominations."

Raven and Mike paused their conversation
when each of went to our designated sex-based bathrooms. I changed
out of my gi and back into my jeans and teeshirt. It was slow going
for me. I was so…so damn tired.

After Mike finished we stepped back into the
hall and fell in step behind her as she walked across the empty mat
to the front office.

"Ghoul?" He looked a little confused.

I knew what a Ghoul was, having met Jason's
Ghoul, Nick Shay. But I had no idea what she was talking about. I'd
never seen Nick make a zombie.

"What are Ghouls?"

"Ghouls are made by Revenants, Mr. Ross."
Raven turned to face us once she got to Shi-han Shu's former desk.
"Revenants feed Ghouls blood to keep them alive and immortal. But
if a Ghoul gives their blood to a human, what matures isn't another
Ghoul."

I felt the hairs on the back of my neck
rise. "That's what makes a zombie?"

"Zombie might be the modern term for them,
but we once knew them as Lamia." She looked very serious. "The
walking undead."

EARTH BANiSHING

I took another shower before heading to
work. I was dead tired, with sore joints and a headache. Fresh
coffee waited for me in the carafe when I came downstairs, dressed
in my black jeans, KB T-shirt, and sneakers, but there was no sign
of Mike and Raven. A quick glance outside revealed Mike's Jeep was
gone. The plan was for me to get to work and they'd keep an eye on
me and the bar until my shift was over, then it was off to
Bonaventure. The cemetery would be closed by that time, but Mike
and I knew a way in.

The evening was nice, a cooling breeze
coming off the river as I walked down to River Street. I took the
closest set of stone stairs down to the street. Tourists were out,
sightseeing and choosing places to eat. I myself had sampled quite
a few of the restaurants along the waterfront. Highlights for me
were Spanky's, Shrimp Factory, and Huey's. I'd also discovered a
weakness for pralines which I bought regularly at River Street
Sweets.

Kevin Barry's was a two-story pub on the
corner of a building next to the Sheraton Hotel. The front door was
framed by glass windows covered in stickers. The laughter and
conversation coming from inside was always pleasant and inviting.
Tall tables and a large wood-and-brass bar filled the first room.
What drew in crowds was the live music in the adjacent room. My
favorite part of the bar was the balcony and armed services museum
upstairs. A few times after closing, a few of the other bartenders
and servers and I would have a pint and watch the boats move up and
down the Savannah River.

Tonight the place was packed. April, warm
weather and the night before a full moon. I was a few minutes early
so I did a quick inventory check behind the bar and greeted my
first customers, a nice mother and daughter seated and ready to
give their aching feet a rest. Two Irish coffees and the shift
began.

Most of the time when I worked, I threw
myself into autopilot: mixing drinks, putting in food orders,
wiping down tables, greeting guests—I'd done it so long I was
always amazed at how sore my face was after smiling all night.
Flirting always landed me some seriously great tips. I also had my
own regulars, a few that came in during my shift to talk and catch
up.

At about nine, the small stage in the other
room came to life and a new performer took the stage. Several of
the patrons at the bar got up to find a seat at one of the many
tables in the music room or stand in a corner. By the time the
musicians were into their second song, it was standing room only
along the back wall. Mark Butler, a longtime manager and bartender,
helped me handle the drink orders as the waitresses brought the
orders in from upstairs and from the patrons seated at the tables
in front of the performance.

During one of the slower songs, Mark brought
in seven empty beer bottles from tables in the music room, holding
them by their necks, and tossed them into the recycle bin just
inside the door to the kitchen. I'd ducked into the kitchen to grab
a plate of wings I put an order in for an hour earlier. They were
cold but I didn't care. I was starving.

"Nicole and Hank servicing the bar?" Mark
asked.

I nodded to him as I grabbed a bottled water
from the counter and opened it. "Yep. Good crowd."

He stopped in front of me with his hands on
his hips. "Is this your first break?"

"Yeah—do you need me back out there?"

"No," he said with a laugh.
"I need you to take a
real
break. Things will slow down while they're
singing. Finish that up and get out of the bar for twenty after you
finish eating. But be back in here no later than that. Once they
break for intermission, we're going to be slammed."

I didn't argue. I'd been moving nonstop and
the thought of getting fresh air made me finish those wings in
record time. I took the water with me as I waved to a few regulars
that waved at me, and stepped out into the night.

A boat was just passing by, piled high with
cargo boxes. Green, faded blue, and brown. I crossed the
cobblestone to the park by the river's edge and finished my water.
After tossing the bottle into a trash bin, I sat down on a concrete
bench and breathed a sigh of relief.

It was a
normal
night. And I loved it. People.
Music. Good food. And laughter.

Laughter was the key.

I turned where I sat and looked back at the
bar. Two people stood outside talking. I could hear the echo of the
music from where I sat. I hadn't seen Mike and Raven inside, unless
they were on the balcony. A quick look up didn't tell me anything.
Too many shadows.

Sitting out in the open, enjoying the
breeze, made me feel guilty when I thought about Stella. Buzzkill.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. I shouldn't be there,
enjoying the night, listening to music when she was trapped in
another world. The only way I knew to get to her was through a
Cairn.

I toyed with the thought of
slipping back into the Cairn Thomas Rhymer pulled me out of after
my first visit to the Peripheral. Thomas had opened up that same
Cairn back
into
the
Peripheral. And, according to Hob, if me or Mike used that Cairn,
we wouldn't suffer that debilitating sickness.

But what about Raven? Would she? Did
Revenants even get sick?

It'd been a month since Mike, Sam and I
tumbled out of that Cairn through a pipe in the Bonaventure
Cemetery. Mike said that door was no longer there. Was the Cairn
gone? Was it even stationary?

Gates or doors into and out of the other
Worlds were better if they were stationary. Drilling your own hole
into other Worlds was pretty much a no-no because once drilled, the
hole remained—but its location changed on a dime. So one day Mr.
Joe Blow could be walking along Main Street's sidewalk, enjoying a
hot dog filled with nitrates and covered with relish, and if he
happened to step or move into that hole—invisible to the human
eye—his day would be totally ruined when he found himself in
another World of existence, possibly chased by Faeries on a
hunt.

Or dead, if he ended up in the Dark World.
'Cause you know, it doesn't have air.

The only hole-making spell I knew of was a
Coyote Flame. I'd been thinking about that spell a lot since this
morning but I continued to push it out of the way. I could use the
spell, but since I didn't understand the string theory involved in
linking it to a World I had no knowledge of…well, let's just say I
didn't want to be the one responsible for screwing with Joe Blow's
day.

I really needed a Planar directory.

I couldn't wear a watch but I had a pretty
good idea my break was halfway over. I heard footsteps nearby. I
stood quickly, my hands at my sides, and turned to face whomever it
was. I sort of expected Mike and Raven.

I didn't expect Illiana Goldwater.

She stopped, her right hand up, a smile on
her face. I was thankful for the street lights illuminating River
Street. "Hey, it's me…stand down, okay?"

My shoulders slumped and I closed the
distance to her. Illy was a few inches shorter than me, blond, with
a round face and bright blue eyes. She was also the happiest person
I'd ever met. Nothing ever seemed to get her down. I wasn't sure
her face knew how to frown.

Other than Mike, Sam, and now Raven, she was
the only other person in Savannah that knew about me, what I was,
what I carried, and about the different Worlds around us. I never
asked her how she knew. It never seemed important.

Her hand was cold on my cheek, and I leaned
into her touch. "Wow…it's nice to see you."

"Dags, you look awful. I mean you look good,
but you're pale and you've got shadows under your eyes. Have you
eaten anything today?"

"I had a handful of sandwich meat and I just
ate some wings." I pulled her hand down, pressed a kiss against the
back of it, then held it in one hand. Illy confused me on many
levels. I've said before that when she and I met, I didn't have any
intention of starting or continuing any personal relationship. I
was too confused. Too…bruised. And how could I be strong and
dependable for someone when I couldn't remember a year of my life?
I had baggage…alligator…and the alligator wasn't dead.

But after the past six days, two of which
I'd spent insensate, just seeing Illy healed me in ways I couldn't
do on my own.

"You need real food. You working?"

"'Til one. What time is it now?"

"It's only ten after ten. Three more hours.
Want to grab dinner over at the diner when you get off shift?"

My spirits soared for about ten seconds
before I thought of Stella, and then of our plans of going to
Bonaventure. "I can't…"

"Working with Mike? Little bit of
investigation about those mutilations?"

"We're looking into it. Thanks for the
information—and I will take you to dinner another time."

"Damn straight you will." She went up on her
tiptoes and planted a cool kiss against my lips. "I have a little
more information too. How much longer do you have on your
break?"

"You said it was ten after ten? Maybe
another ten minutes." I was guessing I'd stepped out at ten, but I
also wasn't that worried about Mark getting angry.

"Good." She led me back to the bench and sat
facing me. Illy always carried a large shoulder bag. I'd seen her
pull everything from an iPad to a portable printer out of that
thing, so I wouldn't have been surprised if she'd pulled out a
timey-wimey detector.