“We can’t,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“I won’t do it,” I said.
“Don’t be silly, of course you will.”
“No, Ms. Zell, I won’t.”
“Two million beyond your fee. Two million dollars that no one knows about but us.” She seemed very sure of herself.
I shook my head. “It’s not about money, Ms. Zell.”
“You have to do this for me, Ms. Blake. You’re the only one who can raise a zombie that can feel real fear and real pain.”
“I couldn’t guarantee that he’d feel the same pain he would have felt when he was alive,” I said. I tried to concentrate on the details so I wouldn’t concentrate on other things.
“But he will feel pain, real pain?”
“He’ll be able to feel. I’ve had zombies stumble on rocks and fall. They react like it hurts.”
“Perfect,” she said, and that one word was full of so much anticipation.
It made my stomach clench to realize what she was anticipating. “Let me test my understanding, Ms. Zell, just so we’re clear. You want me to raise your husband, Chase, from the dead so that he will think he’s alive and be able to feel terror and pain while you chop him up with an axe. Do you realize that an axe won’t kill a zombie, so he’ll keep thinking and being afraid even if you chop him to bits? He’ll be afraid until I lay him to rest again.”
“I don’t want you to lay him to rest. I want his pieces buried as they are, so that he’ll be buried alive and aware until he rots away.”
I did the long blink at her, the one I reserve for moments when I can’t think of a damned thing to say. I finally found something to say: “No.”
“What?” she asked.
“No, as in no, I won’t do it.”
“Three million,” she said.
“No,” I said.
“How much will it take?” she asked.
“You don’t have that kind of money.”
“Yes,” she said, “I do.”
“Jesus, woman, if you are sane enough to understand what you are asking me to do, then it is maybe the worst thing I’ve ever heard of one human being doing to another. That should frighten you, Ms. Zell. It really should if you knew the kind of crimes I’ve worked.”
“You do a lot of serial killers and rogue monsters. I did my research on you, Anita Blake.”
“Good for you, but you are a nasty piece of work.”
“I don’t care what you think of me as long as you do what I want.”
I pushed back from my desk. “No.” I stood up.
She finally realized I was serious, and she looked afraid. Of all the emotions she could have felt I hadn’t expected fear. “If not money, then what? What do you want, Anita? Name it and if money can buy it, it’s yours. What do you want?”
“From you, absolutely nothing.”
“If not for you, then your boyfriends. I had you researched and surely someone in your life must need things that money can buy.”
“Get out,” I said.
“I won’t take no for an answer. You’re the only animator who can give me Chase alive enough for him to suffer. I want him to suffer, Anita.”
“Yeah, I heard that part.” I started around my desk. I was going to open the door and get her the fuck out of my office. She stood up, and in her heels she was almost a foot taller than me. She moved between me and the door. I could have manhandled her, but the business manager, Bert, frowned on us bruising people while on office property.
“I heard that some of your vampire kills aren’t exactly on the books all legal and nice. Everyone knows you’ve murdered people, Anita.” She was actually right, but they had all been people trying to kill me, or people who had threatened me, or monsters who were trying to kill me, then eat me, or who were threatening to hurt people I was trying to protect. I didn’t lose sleep over any of my kills.
“First, it’s Ms. Blake to you. Second, people say a lot of shit about me. I wouldn’t believe it all.” Once upon a time I’d been a bad liar, but that had been a long time ago.
“I’ll take proof to the police about some of your crimes. You’ll lose that badge of yours, if not more.”
“And I’ll tell the police what you wanted me to do, because anyone who would really do what you’re describing would do something to a live person.” I studied her face. “How’s his illegitimate son’s health lately?”
Her face flickered uncertainly.
“If anything happens to him I will make sure the police come to your door.”
“You don’t know his name.”
“Oh, please, like I couldn’t find that out. He’s probably got a page on the Internet somewhere where he’s talked all about his father being Chase Zell.”
She frowned at me, as though she was wondering if I was right.
“Nothing happens to the kid, or you will not have enough money to keep yourself out of jail, or at least the nut house.”
“I am not crazy, Ms. Blake. I’m a woman scorned.”
“He was married to you for twenty-five years. I think the poor bastard suffered enough.”
That was it. She turned on the stiletto points of her expensive shoes and stalked out. If I’d known that that would make her leave I’d have said it sooner. Seemed this was my week for people wanting my very “alive” zombies for very bad purposes.
Two weeks passed before I went back to the restaurant where Micah, Nathaniel, and Jason had flirted with the waiter and, all right, so had I. This time I was at a table not a booth, and all by my lonesome. Though honestly I’d eaten more lunches alone in my adult life than with anyone else. The workers at Animators Inc. had staggered schedules so no one had lunch at the same time. Sometimes I brought a book; sometimes it was just good to get out of the office. Today I had actually brought the latest copy of The Animator, our trade publication. There were a couple of articles I’d been wanting to read, so I’d order food, read, and hopefully learn something.
My waitress was petite, blond, and female when I ordered drinks, but when the drinks came my waiter was tall, black-haired, and male. It was the waiter from the time before. He put down my Coke, smiled, and said, “I traded tables with Cathy; I hope you don’t mind.”
I shook my head, smiled back. “I don’t mind.”
His gave me that even brighter smile that I remembered from last time. I did what I’d learned last time; I smiled back. It would take two more trips back and forth from the table for me to realize that he thought I was flirting with intent. It was when he stayed at my table talking after my food had arrived that I realized I’d made some kind of tactical error. It was one thing to flirt in the safety of my group, with Nathaniel and Jason to take some of the heat and Micah to look on, but a totally different experience with just me and the waiter. Crap.
His name was Ahsan. He was a college student. He was a theater major with a minor in literature. He was graduating this year and going on to start his master’s program. His goal was to teach at a college, unless his own acting career took off. I learned all this because I couldn’t figure out how to stop the conversation. I had flirted first, so it was my fault, and if something is my fault, I try to fix it. But Ahsan was like that scene in Fantasia with Mickey Mouse and the brooms carrying water buckets. I’d flirted and gotten the game started, but I had no idea how to stop it. I mean, I could have been blunt-my usual-but I had started it, and so was there a way to gracefully retreat? By now I was pretty certain that he thought I’d come back by myself so I could flirt more freely with him. Eek. I was remembering why I didn’t flirt for fun-because I didn’t know how. I could flirt with intent of dating or sex, but I sucked at casual flirting. Shit.
I would have tried to play the age difference card, but he was Nathaniel’s age exactly, so I couldn’t claim that an eight-year age difference weirded me out. I was debating on exactly what I could do to let him down gently, or whether I was irritated enough to let him down hard, when I felt energy. Not just regular human psychic energy, but shapeshifter energy. It was someone powerful enough that it raised the hair on my arms and crawled down my back, to see if it could find my own beasts. Those shadows inside me moved almost like a hand caressing deep within my body. God, he was powerful. Either he was a bad guy letting me know he was here, or he’d picked up my own beasts and thought I was a real shapeshifter. Some of their societies encouraged them to mark territory. One of the ways to do that without a fight was simply let the power out. It was a safe way of saying, Don’t fuck with me. Or, it was a bad guy, and a threat. I wouldn’t know until too late, so I treated it as bad guy: better paranoid than dead.