“They were faster than I would have liked,” I pointed out my wounded leg. “But I don’t recall them setting any land speed records.”
“Then Reven was probably not among them.”
I stared at Abe. He must have seen I had no clue what he was talking about.
“Were Reven nearby, his zombies would siphon more energy from their master, making them quicker, more lifelike. It is an innate part of the energy transfer, alluding to his presence.”
“Good to know. That being the case, he probably wasn’t there.” Neither seemed all that surprised. “There were, however, zombies missing,” I added.
Their eyes widened. “What do you mean by missing?”
“Somewhere in the neighborhood of two hundred bodies have disappeared from Rest Land in the last week, or so.” I kept the source of my information to myself. “I estimated there were around seventy in the hole. Now add in the ones I killed at the strip club and we’re only looking at about a hundred accounted for. Where are the rest of them?”
Abraham wrung his hands, the knuckles turning white. “We’ve had reports from other cemeteries that they, too, are missing bodies. All told, we’re looking at another two to three hundred.”
I whistled. “So we’ve got four hundred zombies, give or take, still running amok?” There was some major undead mischief afoot.
“Something in that range, yes.” Abraham nodded. “We need to find Reven and ascertain what he is up to.”
Captain Obvious to the rescue. I wondered if he needed a cape. “If bodies are missing from all sides of town, we need to get some eyes on the cemeteries, maybe even the morgue.”
“Already done,” Rahim told me. “Though I’m not sure it’ll do us any good. Reven would have to be pretty stupid to make it so easy, especially now that he knows someone is looking.”
Having spent five hundred years mingling with humanity, I couldn’t rule the possibility out. Magic didn’t make people smarter. “What about the mausoleum chamber?”
“We’ll send Katon to examine it. Maybe he can find a clue there.”
“And me?”
“Do what you do best, Frank.” Rahim smiled, his eyes teasing.
“There are laws against that now.”
Abraham sighed, choosing not to reply, and returned his attention to his computer. Rahim only chuckled. I got up, said my goodbyes, and headed out the door.
Rahim always said I stumbled my way through life, getting by on dumb luck and brass balls. The sad part was he was probably right. That being the case, I figured why fight it. Trouble would find me when it was good and ready.
Until it did, I was gonna have a beer.
Chapter Seven
A couple of beers and a sip of my uncle’s blood later, the night having crept past the witching hour, I wandered down to Fiesta Street. Relegated to the butt-end of Old Town, the street was home to the seediest, the most questionably legal, and by far the most immoral of night-life establishments to be found above ground. If you were looking for a good time that truly defined the word taboo, this was the place to be. I came here often.
Pun intended.
Just off the desert, like the majority of the fun parts of Old Town, this was as good a place as any to expect zombie trouble. While DRAC watched the cemeteries, I figured I’d try another angle. With Reven already claiming upwards of four hundred zombies, it didn’t make any sense to me that he’d bother to raise any more. Unless he was planning on taking over the world with an army of slow-moving corpses, he had to have enough for his plans, whatever they may be. Though it didn’t hurt to keep an eye out, I couldn’t picture him puttering around the graveyards waiting to be caught. That’s the first place anyone looks when they’re trying to find a necromancer. So, thinking along those lines, I decided to go fishing where the most appetizing bait could be found.
On any given night, Fiesta Street was ripe for the plucking. Scores of horny partiers wandered drunkenly, splitting their time and crumpled money between the raunchy bars, strip clubs, and porn stores. Always busy, yet saddled with a clientele as disposable as paper plates, the street might as well have had a target painted on it.
Dressed way down in a stained sweatshirt and ratty jeans, I weaved my way down the cracked and bulging sidewalk, my eyes taking it all in from under the shadows of my hood. After dodging an affectionate drunk and sloughing off an insistent panhandler who felt the world owed him something, I slipped into a dark alley beside one of the furthermost buildings. After checking to be sure I was alone, I shimmied up the wobbly fire escape, trying my best to ignore its tortured squeaks, which threatened to dump me on my ass, and made my way to the roof. Up top, I headed for the dilapidated stairwell hut. As I neared it, I spotted a dark shape lurking in the shadows. I drew my gun and let my senses loose. I wanted to know what I was up against. A second later I reined them in, shoving my gun back into its holster.
“What are you doing here, Veronica?”
The shape straightened and drifted out of the dark. My ex-wife’s impressive curves were defined even in the moonlit dimness.
“I’d ask you the same thing, but this being Fiesta Street I’m not so sure I really need an answer.” She grinned wide as she stepped toward me, her hands hovering near the blades at her hips.
“Ah, the irony of you implying I’m here for something illicit.” My eyes were focused on her chest, but not for the reasons you might assume. Though I will admit it was one hell of a view, I was more interested in the tension of her shoulders, the positioning of her feet. She was expecting a fight. I wasn’t here for that. “Relax, woman. As pissed off at you as I am, I’m not at the point of taking it out of your hide.”
Her eyes met mine. We’d known each other long enough, and been intimate beyond what’s legal in most states, that she had to realize I was being honest. After a few seconds, her hands dropped away from her weapons and her shoulders slumped.
“Don’t get the wrong idea, you and I aren’t all skippy-doodle, but I’m not looking to put a bullet in you. Stick to business and we’ll be cool.”
She stared at me hard for a few seconds, but I couldn’t read her expression. She’d gotten better at hiding her feelings. For that matter, she’d gotten better at everything since we’d divorced-that hurt a little. It’s like finding out a woman has gone lesbian right after you dated. It puts a serious dent in your ego, let me tell you.
I’d been surprised by how well she fought when we’d gotten into it during the Asmoday fiasco. Now with the blades at her hips, worn like they’d been there her whole life, I was certain she could handle herself. If she wielded them only half as well as she performed her other physical skills, she was beyond dangerous.
Her expression lightened, I guessed resigning herself to the fact I was gonna be difficult. She was right.
“Back to my question. What are you doing here?” I already knew the answer, but it didn’t hurt to be thorough. These days, you could never be sure who was looking to put a fork in you.
She drew in a deep breath and let it out slow, delaying her answer. There was more to her presence here than hunting zombies. “I wanted to see you.” It came out in a rush.
My pride stroked, my crotch stirring, I sighed. “I thought we were gonna keep this about business.” Stubbornness is one of my more refined character traits.
I thought I saw a pinch of sadness color her face, but it disappeared so fast I had to have imagined it. Her patented smile kicked in, wiping away all traces of anything except confidence.
“Fair enough.” She gestured to the street. “If ever there was a good place to kidnap people without making a fuss, this would be it. I thought if they showed up, I could follow the undead back to the necromancer who’s controlling them.”
“Sounds like a good plan.” I beamed, her presumption validating my own. What can I say? I’m easily pleased. “And by the way, the necro’s name is Reven.” It was clear she hadn’t known that. A grateful smile crept to her lips. I basked in its glow thinking we’d managed to slip past our rocky start. But as usual, I had to go and ruin it. “Plus it doesn’t hurt that the place is wall-to-wall sex either, huh?” I cringed inside, my words coming out bitter sounding.