A woman in a nurse’s uniform grabbed Zoe’s arm. She barely felt it and easily brushed the woman off. It was the same with the others. They were as insubstantial as leaves in a winter wind. But there were a lot of them and she could feel the weight of their numbers begin to press in around her. More souls poured from the buildings up and down the street. Fingers tangled in her hair and pulled at her legs.
A tall man in a rotting tracksuit reached out his snakeskin hand and raked his cracked fingernails down Zoe’s throat. She felt blood where he’d touched her. She punched the man in the chest as hard as she could. Her hand went all the way through him and out his back. She let out a small scream, and when she pulled her arm back, the man flew apart like someone blowing on a dandelion. The souls backed away for a moment, then pressed in against her from every direction.
Zoe punched and kicked her way through the mob. Hands grabbed her coat. Teeth bit into her arms and legs, but she kept lashing out. The zombified souls flew apart around her, filling the air with a choking dust. Far behind her, she could hear the black dogs frantically howling and barking.
At the end of the block, she ran face-first into a chain-link fence. At the bottom was a section of torn links. She fell to her knees and squeezed herself though the small break. She felt dry, crumbling, insect-husk fingers grabbing at her legs. One of her pockets caught on the sharp edge of one link and she had to rip the coat to get free. The dead tried to pull her back through the fence. Chipped teeth, like ivory knives, bit her hands when she grabbed the fence to resist them. A man in a cop uniform tried to crawl under the fence after her. He caught his back on the link that snagged her coat, but it didn’t even slow him. He ripped himself in half down the full length of his back and the two mirror-image pieces of him lay side by side, still grabbing for her. A woman in a bridal gown tried to push her way straight through the fence. Piece by piece, she fell apart, as the metal tore apart her papery skin.
Zoe ran a few yards in the dark, slipped, and rolled halfway down one of the cobbled staircases that led to the canals. Far away in the distance were lights. She limped along the narrow canal walkway until she came to a place where the black water slid under an old library coiled around one of the canal’s docks. She clambered up the side of the embankment until she could see the boardwalk just a few blocks away. She ran toward it as fast as she could, glancing over her shoulder for signs of the dogs or the dying dead. But no one followed her.
There was some kind of street fair going on along the oceanfront boulevard. It seemed like all the inhabitants of Iphigene who had been in hiding were now gathered up and down the length of the boardwalk, pressed tightly together and cheering. They were a ragged mob, red-eyed and worn-looking, like an entire city coming off a three-day bender. Uncertain and overwhelmed, the new arrivals stayed together at the far end of the street, not far from where the buses had let them off. Maybe this was some kind of welcome party, Zoe thought. What a fucked-up introduction to eternity. As she looked down the crowd, with their improvised limbs waving over their heads, they looked to her like an army of broken marionettes, dancing out of step to a song no one could quite remember. Zoe had never seen anyone in Iphigene looking happy before, but here was a whole street of smiling faces. It made her nervous. She kept her collar up and hung at the back of the crowd, trying to see what everyone was looking at. They were staring in the same direction, toward the white palace at the far end of the street.
From nowhere, drums pounded in her ears. Complex rhythms. Three or four patterns piled on top of each other. Shrill double-reed horns played a quick discordant melody that made her ears hurt. The louder the crowd cheered, the louder the music became. There were no musicians or amplifiers in sight. The music seemed to just materialize out of the air. Zoe didn’t want to cheer. She wanted to run, but she stood her ground.
“Look!” someone shouted. “Children. Her children!”
The crowd surged back onto the sidewalk as black cobras came roiling their way down the middle of the damp street. They were the biggest snakes Zoe had ever seen. Each one was easily the size of the crocodiles Mr. Danvers had shown her class, twelve feet long or more. Their skin shone like obsidian in the moonlight, and their eyes were green-gold, like tarnished coins. Their enormous fangs were bone-white daggers set in up-curved mouths that made it look as if the cobras were always smiling.
Behind the snakes came dozens of the queen’s hulking dogs, led by tall men with snouts and heads like wolves. Dressed in rough leather breeches and chain mail over dark jerkins, they held the snarling dogs with heavy silver chains, yanking them hard when one of the hounds would rear up on its hind legs as if it might lunge into the crowd. The spectators along the boardwalk cheered and screamed with delight as the dogs went by. The more the dogs snarled and charged them, the more they whooped and laughed.
The music stopped and the crowd grew quiet. The change was immediate and dramatic, as if it was something that had happened before. A kind of play or ritual in which everyone knew their part but Zoe. For a second, all she could hear was the endless pounding of the waves on the beach. She was still giddy enough with adrenaline that the abrupt change didn’t scare her. It heightened her excitement. She knew what she was feeling wasn’t exactly right, but she couldn’t help herself. The rational part of her brain told her to sneak out the back of the crowd, but something else kept her rooted to the spot. It was like being a little high or what she imagined being under a spell would be like. She had to know what was going to happen next.
A murmur rose up through the crowd and all heads turned toward the palace. The cheering started again, harder, wilder, and louder than ever. Zoe stood on her tiptoes, trying to see over the crowd. When she couldn’t, she crouched down and saw the legs of a horse moving down the boulevard. A protective circle of the wolf men surrounded the rider. When they were almost abreast of her, Zoe stood back up. She knew instantly that the woman who towered over the crowd on horseback was Queen Hecate. She reminded her of the shadow woman she’d seen in her dreams.
Her horse was black, but not like any black Zoe had ever seen before. It wasn’t black like the snakes, who were shiny and whose scales shone like dark jewels. Queen Hecate’s horse was black in the same way that darkness is black. The horse was the color of no light, as if the horse itself wasn’t there and what the queen was riding was merely its shadow.
The queen herself was the most beautiful woman Zoe had ever seen. She was tall and wore a sleeveless tunic and leather breeches of silver and midnight blue dark enough that it was almost black. Her long braided hair and skin were as pale as moonlight, and her arms and shoulders were sculpted and strong. Her silver crown didn’t encircle her head like an ordinary crown. It curved up and back from the center of her skull like a serrated shark fin. She wore knee-length leather boots with flat soles and sharp metal tips. Not the boots of a pampered princess, Zoe thought. Those were the boots of a warrior queen.
When Hecate reached Zoe, the girl looked up at her with awe. Every movement, every angle of Hecate’s body presented a being of strength and power. The screams from the crowd grew louder and more demented by the minute. As Hecate drew abreast of Zoe, a wispy cloud passed in front of the moon. The light in the street shifted almost imperceptibly. As the cloud covered the moon’s face, Queen Hecate’s face disappeared. Gone was the gorgeous snow-queen profile, and in its place was the snarling head of a great, black she-wolf. The wolf’s dark eyes scanned the crowd with a predatory gleam. Zoe stepped back, pushing to the rear of the crowd, not caring who she bumped into or which toes she stepped on.