Broken

Summoned

I WALKED OUT INTO THE NIGHT. JAIME WAS WAITING UNDER the hotel terrace, tucked between two half-dead spruce trees. When I approached, she didn’t move, as if wondering whether she was well enough concealed just to stay there and avoid me.

“I need you to help me find Hull,” I said.

She nodded, no surprise in her eyes.

“You said you can call a zombie if you have something of hers. Would a finger work?”

She only stood there, worrying her rings, trying to avoid my eyes.

“We can’t do this, Elena,” she said finally. “I can’t. I know you want to, but you’re not thinking clearly and-”

“Not thinking clearly?”

I strode up in front of her. Jaime stepped back, eyes widening in alarm. The second I saw that look, I stopped and stared at her. In her eyes I saw more than alarm. I saw fear.

“You’re worried about what Jeremy will say,” I said.

She shook her head. “No. Well, yes. But that’s not my main concern. Not really a concern at all. It’s pointless anyway.”

She looked so sad then, so deflated, that a twinge of conscience pierced my determination. I shouldn’t drag her into this. But I couldn’t find Hull on my own. Or could I?

“Stay here.” I started to walk away, hesitated, then said, “No, come with me. It’s safer.”

When she hesitated, I strode off. No time to cajole her. After a moment, I heard her footsteps jog up behind me.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Scouting the perimeter.”

“For Hull?”

“More likely a zombie.”

I paused at the corner and knelt by a scent trail. Hull’s, but an old one. I pushed up and kept moving.

“What’ll you do if you find one?”

“I’ll grab it. Make it lead me back to Hull.”

“But you can’t fight Hull, Elena. Not by yourself. Not in your-”

“Condition? Trust me, right now, my condition is what’s going to make me damned sure I can kill him. He won’t even have time to try negotiating.”

Her hand clamped down on my arm. As I wheeled, I swallowed a snarl, but she must have seen it. Fear darted behind her eyes, but she didn’t let go of my arm.

“What about time to cast a spell, Elena?”

“He won’t kill me like that,” I said. “He said he doesn’t care if the babies are dead or alive, but he’s lying. That’s why he was so eager to make a deal instead of just killing me. It makes a difference. Dead, he’d have to sell them fast, before they-” My throat seized up, images flipping past, images I really didn’t want to see, didn’t want to consider. “Better if they’re alive. Then he has time to find a good buyer. I’m not saying he won’t kill me-if it comes to that-but he won’t be quick to kill me.”

I circled the building twice, and found only old trails from Hull, including one that intersected with the scent of the bowler-hatted man, who’d must have stopped by earlier to get his orders. How stupid had we been? Searching for the zombie controller when we had taken him into our “protection.”

He had to be out here, somewhere, watching for our next move. But “out here” was a downtown block. He could be hiding in any of the darkened offices overlooking the hotel or on top of those buildings or in the parking garages-anyplace where he could see us if we tried to make a run for it.

If I had to, I might be able to find Hull, but my best bet was still the woman jogging behind me, her sandals catching in the roots and holes of the hotel gardens.

“The abandoned building where we found the fingers is about three kilo-two miles over,” I said. “We’ll slip down the block behind the hotel and get a taxi.”

“Elena. I…”

I turned. “You don’t want to do this? Twenty minutes ago, you were begging Jeremy to let you have a go at it. So it’s one thing to fly to the rescue and win Jeremy’s gratitude, but going behind his back and doing it is out of the question? Sure, it might save my life, my babies’ lives, Clay’s life…but if that’s not what matters, then it’s hardly worth the bother, is it?”

Her eyes flashed. “This isn’t about impressing Jeremy.”

“No? Then-”

“Prove it?” A small laugh. “Nice trap, Elena, but I’m not falling for it. Yes, I offered to do this same thing with Jeremy. Or with Antonio. Or with Nick. But not with an eight-months pregnant-”

“Five months.”

Her eyes met mine. “According to Jeremy, you’re the equivalent of at least eight months along, so don’t split hairs. You are in no condition to fight a sorcerer and his zombies, and when it comes to fighting, I’m useless. If I let you do this, then I’m just what you accused me of being-a desperately infatuated, self-centered twit who’ll put your life at risk for the faint hope of impressing a man.”

“No, Jaime, I’m the one who’s desperate here. Yes, I’m running on instinct and adrenaline, but it’ll take me where I want to go. You have a cell phone, right?”

“Sure, but-”

“If, at any point, you decide I’m in over my head, all you have to do is use it. Hell, once you’ve delivered that zombie, you can use it to call a cab. No one even has to know you were involved.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“But you have the option. You have other options too. You can go back upstairs and pretend you never spoke to me. Or you can tell Jeremy what I’m doing, which might earn you some brownie points…until Clay loses his arm and my babies are put up for sale on the black market and Jeremy realizes he’s made a horrible mistake. Or, you can slip back up there, grab your bag and come with me.”

“I don’t need to.”

“No, you’re right, you don’t need to come with me-”

“No.” She hoisted her purse. “I mean I don’t need to go back upstairs. I didn’t think you were asking me to take a moonlight walk.”

“Good. Let’s go then.”

Yesterday Tee had chastised Jaime for not knowing how to call a zombie. At first, Jaime had chalked that up to Tee’s madness-that she was confused and had forgotten it wasn’t Jaime who’d raised the zombies. But the comment had gnawed at Jaime.

Zombies were ghosts inside dead bodies. If necromancers would summon ghosts, did it matter which plane-or form-they were in? While we’d been meeting with Tolliver and Shanahan, Jaime had been making calls, trying to track down instances of necromancers calling zombies they hadn’t raised.

It had taken a lot of digging to come up with anything. Not surprising. If you can raise your own zombies, why steal someone else’s? What she did find were a couple stories of incompetent necromancers who didn’t have the skills to raise their own, trying to “buy” zombies-pay a better necro to raise them, then take them over. And it had worked…in a fashion.

In one story, the necromancer had been trying to recruit cheap farm labor. He’d hired someone else to raise a half-dozen zombies, successfully summoned them to his home and handed them their picks and shovels. And, industrious zombies that they were, they immediately set to work using those tools…to beat him to death. Then they went on a rampage of neighboring farms, leaving a swath of dead bodies as they tried to find the necro who’d raised them and could set them to rest. The second story was a variation on the first: yes, the summoning worked, but then you were left with the problem of controlling the zombies, which you apparently couldn’t do if they weren’t yours.

According to these stories, then, it was possible to summon another necro’s zombies. And I wanted to believe it. We both did. But, like so many other stories passed down through the generations-like the one about the sorcerer’s portal accidentally unleashing a demon or most of the stories in the Pack Legacy or even Jaime’s Pet Sematary encounter-it smacked of didacticism. Humans tell fairy tales to warn children not to talk to strangers or wander into the dark woods. We impart our own story-lessons to our youth-the lesson being simple and universal: don’t mess with forces you don’t understand.

“Jaime?”

A muffled oath behind me. I backtracked to find Jaime kicking the wall.

“I-have-rat-shit-on-my-foot,” she said, punctuating each word with a kick.

“Then wipe it off.”

A scowl, as if I was being funny.

“Here,” I said, trying not to growl. “Let me-”

“It’s off.”

“You’re only going to step in more. This isn’t a sandal-friendly excursion.”

“It was these or heels. At least I can jog in these.”

I strode down the hall, weaving around the patches of feces.

“Rat shit wipes off,” I said. “Worry about the rats themselves. I don’t smell any-they’re probably out hunting-but be careful. Now, we were right over here…There. Clay put it up-”

I stared down at the empty ledge.

“It’s gone. Goddamn it!” I felt along the ledge, though I could see well enough to know it wasn’t there. “Who’d take a rotting finger?”

“Maybe it’s the wrong ledge.”

I bent to sniff the ledge. Yes, I could smell blood and rotting flesh. Even found a fleck of it on the wood. I scooped it up on the end of my finger. Too small for Jaime to use.

“Maybe a rat managed to knock it down and carry it off,” Jaime said. “You said she was staying here, right? There has to be something else. Maybe a blanket she used, or a piece of her clothing.”

“A piece of her would be better. If a rat got it, maybe I can track-”

As I dropped to an awkward crouch, I saw a spot of white in a small pile of debris below the ledge. I picked up two white bones, still connected by rotting cartilage.

“That was easy. Rat must have had to eat and run.” I held it up. “Will this do?”

The woman who had been dodging piles of rat poop now reached for the bones as if I were offering her something as innocuous as a pen. She took the bones, rotting flesh and all, and turned it over in her hands.

“Perfect,” she said.

When she called me over to say she was finished, I resisted the urge to shout “Did it work?” We’d been gone an hour. By now, unless something had happened with Clay’s condition to distract Jeremy, he’d know I was gone. Then he’d find Jaime missing and figure out what had happened.

How long would it take him to realize that the best spot to find something belonging to the zombies was here? Where Rose had been living? Not long enough.

“She’ll follow you, right?” I said, pacing the small room as Jaime packed her supplies. “We don’t have to stay here.”

“It’ll be easiest for her if I’m close by, but we can move on.”

“Good,” I said, and headed for the door.

We relocated to the building across the road, where we could spot Rose or the others when they showed. Forty-five minutes passed. No sign of Jeremy or Rose.

“We can’t wait much longer,” I said. “Can we move someplace else? We’ll need to take a cab, to cover my trail, but if we can get to another location, could you try the summoning again?”

Jaime peered out the filthy window. “I could…but if I summon her twice, from different locations, she might get confused. Let’s wait a bit longer. She can’t be far.”

I resumed pacing from one window to the next, watching for any sign of movement outside.

“I wish I could get in touch with Eve,” Jaime murmured as she undid her sandal strap and rubbed her foot.

“Eve?”

“Savannah’s mother-”

“I know who you mean. You’ve had contact with her, haven’t you? From the other side. Could she help with Rose?”

Jaime shrugged. “I don’t know. At this point, I’d be willing to try anything. Eve’s been helping me out some. An exchange of services.”

“Like a spirit guide?”

She forced a tired smile. “More like a spirit guard dog. She scares off the spooks that don’t take no for an answer. I do some work for her in return.”

“Why can’t you reach her?”

“No idea. For a few months, she’ll be there whenever I need her, then she’s gone, popping by now and then to check on me, maybe get my help, but I can’t summon her-”

Jaime’s gaze shot to the corner window, overlooking the east side. “What’s that?”

I hurried over, but saw nothing.

“Someone was there,” Jaime said, standing on tiptoe, trying to see over my shoulder.

I stepped aside. “Where?”

“Someone came around the corner of that building. I saw a shape. Moving fast.”

The street was empty.

“One shape?” I said.

She nodded.

One person, darting around in the shadows, now hiding.

“Rose,” I said.