Resurrection

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.

She glared at me for a moment, then shook her head. “You’re the one that wanted this to be all business, so don’t go there.”

I nodded, the weight of my regret pressing down. It didn’t matter how much time passed or how deep Veronica wounded me, I was always gonna come back for more. We both knew it. No matter how hard I fought against it, she had wrapped me up in her web a long time ago, and there was no untangling myself. We were connected in a way that defied the sense or sanity of it all. I hadn’t been that wrapped up in a woman since I was a kid, and it sucked to admit it. My emotional freedom was a farce.

Sobered by that thought, I took my own advice and put my mind back on task. I’d worry about my heart later.

“Why don’t you just track Reven to wherever he’s hiding? He had to have left some kind of trail.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slow before answering, “Because necromancers aren’t like you or me. Their life force isn’t a positive energy I can lock on to. Empowered by death, corrupted even, their souls are like spiritual black holes. They’re a swirling mass of negativity. It’s as if they don’t exist with regards to magical detection.”

That wasn’t a comforting thought. I’d always relied on my senses, blunt as they are, to give me a heads up in tight spots. If Reven were invisible to them, I had lost an advantage. Not that that was anything new. I was always in over my head, but that didn’t mean I enjoyed it.

“What about his henchman?” I already knew the answer. Veronica’s presence here meant she couldn’t track him either.

She shook her head. “Same deal applies. He’s tainted by Reven’s association, the sharing of his art. If we’re going to find them, we’re going to have to do this the old fashioned way.”

“Stumbling blindly and getting lucky?”

Veronica suppressed a grin. “I didn’t say your way.” She turned away and went to the ledge of the building, leaning over to survey the street.

I hung back a few seconds and watched her. Of all the fantastic wonders in the world there are none as awe inspiring as a fit woman in a tight pair of jeans. The sight chased the chill from the air. After a moment of quiet reflection, I adjusted my appreciation and waddled over to join her.

The bright moonlight, enhanced by the dull flicker of the streetlights below, made it easy to see. Down on the street, people scrambled about, filing in and out of the various establishments, wandering from one gilded debauchery to another. If Veronica hadn’t been there, I’d have been jealous. I could use a little debauchery right about now.

Who couldn’t?

We sat there on the ledge for about an hour, settling in to a resigned silence. Afraid to stir things up, I kept my mouth shut. She must have felt the same way-that I’d say something stupid-so all I got out of her was the occasional weak smile before her eyes went back to watching the street.

Up above the chaotic meanderings, separated from the cloying scent of sweaty flesh and the drunken rumble of carnal appetite, I was bored. The beers I’d drunk earlier had run their course through my system, and down the wall of the stairwell hut, and I was starting to get tired.

There is nothing more brain-sapping than a stakeout. Sitting around, picking your nose while you wait for something, anything, to break the monotony. I could never have made it as a cop. I’m down with doughnuts and all, but patience and I haven’t spoken in ages.

Just as my eyelids started to flutter, I felt more than heard, Veronica hop to her feet. My eyes sprung open and followed the direction of her stare. It took me a few seconds to focus, but I finally spotted was she was looking at.

There in a shrouded alley just off the main thoroughfare, was a huddled mass of figures. Though I couldn’t see them clearly, I had a pretty good idea what they were. As my adrenaline battled away my tiredness, I heard the fluttering of their inane mutterings that drifted in the night air, discernible even over the white noise of the street. That clinched it. It was a zombie’s night out.

I leaned in toward Veronica, trying to ignore how good she smelled, and nodded toward the alley. “Our tour guides have arrived,” I whispered.

She put her finger to her lips and leaned back a little as the mass of undead started to move. I stayed where I was and watched as they poured out onto the street. It’s not like they were gonna look up. Everything they needed was right in front of them; a staggering buffet of plastered human flesh.

As if to prove my point, the drunken Fiesta Street patrons in the road and on the sidewalks made it easy. A few pointed at the corpses shambling toward them, their whiskey-soaked brains too addled to feel threatened. Most didn’t even notice.

That is until the first scream rang out. There’s nothing like the shrill screech of abject terror to clear those synapses. Frightened into action, the street exploded into chaos. Patrons ran every which way, but in the end, it did them no good.

From other alleys, those we couldn’t see from where we stood, more zombies emerged to head off the fleeing patrons. There must have been hundreds of them. A mottled mass of dead flesh wedged into the street, blocking it off in every direction. Zombies flooded into the buildings where more panicked screams burst out. The patrons caught out in the open were drowned in a sea of corpses. Broken necks and crushed larynx’s abounded.

Though far from resembling anything heroic, it was hard to sit there and do nothing. Before I even realized it, my gun was in my shaking grip, the safety thumbed off. Veronica set her warm hand on mine, pushing the weapon down while whispering saccharine words of patience. I put it away with reluctance, my eyes glued on the carnage below us.

No stranger to death, it’s not like I hadn’t seen it all before. I’ve survived wars, plagues, and even a nuclear explosion one time when I was vacationing in Japan, but it was never easy to watch people die when I had the means to do something about it. While I doubted I could save everyone, I only had so many bullets, I could have at least gotten some of them out. These people might not amount to much in the “real” world, but they were still living souls.

My fists clenched so tight they hurt, I moved away from the ledge so I didn’t have to see the massacre below. Veronica didn’t seem too bothered by it, but she didn’t have the connection to the human race like I did. She’d been born a succubus. To her, humans were a source of energy, a necessary means to an enjoyable end.

It wasn’t like that for me. I’d always been too human, too much like my mother. Compassionate and caring, she instilled in me a love of life that extended beyond my own, believe it or not. Four hundred-eighty plus years after her death, my moral compass well astray of those teachings, I still felt the gentle tug of her convictions now and again.

It would have killed her to see the man I’d become. Deep inside, I heard a heartstring twang and I paced around the stairwell hut until the screams below faded. Though it was only in memory, I couldn’t face my mother’s disapproving look.

“They’re on the move,” Veronica whispered.

My conscience girded by thoughts of revenge, a poor man’s substitute for responsibility, I made my way to the fire escape. Not waiting for Veronica, I slid down it and crept to the corner where I could watch the zombies’ retreat. She came up from behind, sneaking a quick peek around me.

Once the corpses left the street, their human luggage in hand, we followed, keeping a safe distance. To no surprise, they headed out into the dark desert. After about a half mile, the night clear and warm, a sudden windstorm sprung up out of nowhere. It took all of two seconds to realize it was magically created. The low lying gusts buffeted the dirt behind the zombies, kicking up a cloud of dust around us and scouring away all traces of the zombies’ passage.

Though it made it more difficult to follow the corpses, the dust storm also made it harder for them to spot us. It also meant we were getting closer to finding Reven. We closed the distance, hands over our noses and mouths to keep from inhaling too much dirt, and kept on their tail. The constant jabbering of the zombies was a steady guide.

After what seemed like forever, we were miles into the desert when the wind dropped off without warning. We had to scurry to not be seen. We took cover behind a small sand dune, hidden by the piled growth of brown shrubs and yellowed weeds.

Lying side by side, our eyes met and I could see the same excitement on Veronica’s face I was feeling. Hers was probably caused by the impending fight, though. Mine was thanks to the warm sand pressed comfortably against my crotch. After the nerve-rattling walk, it felt good.

The zombie horde came to a halt a little ways beyond our hiding place. A large clearing about the size of a football field stood out from the ragged desert landscape, its face cleared of vegetation. Shallow rectangular holes ran in crooked rows across its length, no doubt the resting place of Reven’s pets. I had to hand it to the guy. Unable to make use of the cemeteries in town he’d made his own out in the middle of nowhere. Classified as a minor player by Abraham, he was proving he was smart, if nothing else. I’d have to keep that in mind.

Tireless, the zombies carrying bodies formed a line, the furthest out parked near the end of the clearing. For some unknown reason they just stood there, waiting for something, as the rest of the non-toting horde crawled into their holes. Unfortunately, whatever order they were following that caused them to form up sure didn’t keep them quiet. Like a bunch of old, cantankerous hens, they clucked on and on, their babbling driving me nuts. If it hadn’t been for the arrival of a dark figure near the front of the line, I’d have snapped and started shooting.

I watched as the figure drew closer, but due to the distance there was little I could make out about it. Despite that, there was a sense of grace about it, as if it were gliding through the darkness. A flash of silver sparkled at its hips, drawing my eyes. I growled deep in my throat as I spotted the twin swords. They’d given him away.

This was the bastard McConnell and I had run into under the mausoleum. My hand crept to my gun, easing it out of the holster. Veronica tensed beside me reading my response. Her hands imitated mine as she drew her blades without making a sound.

Before I could do anything else, movement behind the masked assassin caught my attention. A huddled mass of zombies stumbled into the clearing, an aluminum tub held between them. Similar groups appeared behind them as the first moved alongside the line. I glanced over at Veronica. She shrugged, her eyes never leaving the drama unfolding in front of us. Unsure of what they were planning, I looked back as the zombies set the tub down onto the sand.

The assassin drew one of his swords in a quick, smooth movement. Goose bumps danced up my arms. I’d seen what he could do with that thing and I wasn’t looking forward to another demonstration. Fortunately, he didn’t know we were there. He made a gesture with his free hand and the lead zombie bent the corpse it carried over, its head and shoulders hanging above the tub. Right then I realized what they intended. They were draining the bodies.

The assassin leaned down and slid his blade across the neck of the corpse, its sharpness biting in deep. A burst of red spewed from the slit throat, spraying into the tub with a hiss. Once the body gave up its fluid, it was tossed aside. The next zombie advanced and the ritual was repeated. One after another the corpses were emptied and discarded.

We took advantage of the assassin’s distraction and crept closer, inching along the built up sand along the edge of the clearing. Once we’d gotten close enough to get a better look, yet still feel safe, we settled in again. I focused on the assassin as he methodically went about his bloody work. In between bodies, the lead zombie shambling out of the way as the one behind it moved up, he rested his hand on his hip, his wrist curving inward. Right then, my inner alarm went off.

I sharpened my focus and searched out the fine details I’d missed viewing the whole. His small wrist rested against a rounded hip, which led down to a shapely, well-built leg. That was defined by a pair of skin-tight black pants which were tucked into narrow black boots. I felt a little weird checking the guy out, but something wasn’t right about him. Either that or I was becoming a little too open-minded in my old age. I’m all for freedom of sexuality, a warm orifice is pretty much the same as any other given the circumstances, but it made me uncomfortable thinking about it.

Ignoring the voices in my head, which were questioning my manhood, I let my eyes scan upward to a slim waist that suddenly expanded disproportionately with the rest of the figure. I traced the lines to where lean muscular arms jutted out and realized that he was wearing some kind of protective vest that had distorted my perception.

Scratch that, not he; she.

The assassin was a woman.

I breathed a sigh of relief as I spied the twin bulges packed tight beneath the lightweight, armored vest. I sunk into the sand, telling my inner voices where they could go and the best way to get there. Veronica stared at me as I wiped away the cold sweat that had built up on my forehead. She raised an eyebrow. To answer, I pointed at the assassin and held my hands in front of my chest doing the universal sign for boobs. She rolled her eyes at me and went back to watching the drama. Apparently she already knew. Damn women’s intuition.

I looked back to the assassin with a new appreciation for her. Not only did she work McConnell over, she managed to make Kevlar look sexy. She continued along the line of bodies, draining each in turn in what seemed like an endless parade of flowing blood. The zombies carried off the tub once it was close to full.

At the start of the second tub, I caught a glimpse of something else making its way through the darkness. The movement was too fast to be a zombie. I nudged Veronica just as someone in a long black cloak emerged from the shadows near the assassin.

“We’re not alone, Karra,” the person beneath the cloak spoke boldly with no pretense of subterfuge, his voice like a frigid, northern storm. He raised his hand and pointed right at us.

The assassin spun, drawing her second blade in a blur of motion as she dashed toward us. Outed-my hiding place, not my sexuality-I popped up and leveled my gun. Veronica rose up as well, her blades readied. She moved off to the side a ways, putting distance between us to force Karra to choose a target.

I knew how fast she was, so I didn’t waste any time trying to be precise. I hit the trigger in rapid succession and hoped she couldn’t outrun a bullet.

She couldn’t apparently.

She could, however, block them. Like flies on a cold day, she batted the bullets out of the air with her swords, reflecting them off into the darkness with but a flick of her wrist. She never even stopped moving forward.

Impressed by the display, I realized too late I’d stopped firing until she was right on top of me. I shifted to get a better angle as she closed. Veronica flanked. Before I had a chance to fire again, the assassin had dropped low and slipped passed me, one of her swords slicing deep into the meat of my forearm.

A searing pain exploded down the length of my arm followed instantly by another in my hamstring, Karra’s backswing connecting before she moved away. Surprised by the unexpected pain of a magically forged sword, I froze. Veronica dodged around me to give chase. A waft of bitterness assailed my nose as I watched my gun tumble from my hand, my fingers going numb. I recognized the scent from when she’d dropped McConnell. There was something on her blades. I hurried and examined the wound.

Though it was shallow, it bubbled with a black tar that festered around its edges, the ooze mingling with my blood. However disgusting it may sound, that was a normal reaction to my being struck by a magical weapon. What wasn’t normal was the sudden weakness and numbness that spread out from the wounds like wildfire.

Under no control of mine, my right arm dropped to my side lifeless. I growled as a light went off in my head reminding me about my leg, which too had gone numb. I collapsed in a heap a second later, my leg unable to support my weight. Whatever nastiness the assassin had on her swords, it was fast acting and potent. The muscles in both my arm and leg refused to obey. Rigid and without life, they were useless.

I rolled my head around when I heard the clang of colliding swords and shouted, “Poison on the blades.”

Though Veronica didn’t bother to acknowledge my warning, I was sure she’d heard me. Her posture shifted noticeably as she and Karra crossed blades, her stance becoming more defensive. The aggressive wide swings she’d used at first had reverted to short, snapping strikes, her blades held closer to her body.

I watched the two go at it for a few seconds as they circled each other, a ballet of silver flashes in the moonlight. To me, it appeared as though Veronica was the better swordswoman, though not by much. It was enough, however, to give me hope.

Using my good arm, I dragged myself toward my pistol, which lay a few feet away in the sand. The poison had apparently spread as my hip and shoulder had become stiff as boards. It made it hard to move, but the sound of steel clanging on steel drove me on. Once I retrieved my weapon, I looked around real quick. I found it strange the zombies hadn’t joined in, having expected them to have swarmed all over us by then.

Spotting the cloaked man, who had to be the necromancer Reven, I realized why they hadn’t. They continued in their blood draining, a handful of zombies gathered around the tub tearing the throats from their victims to speed the process. Reven stared back at me through shimmering yellow eyes that peered out from beneath his hood. He must have had faith his assassin could handle us because he stood there calm, unconcerned. So far he’d been right.

Out of spite, I felt the need to shit on his assumption.

My gun in my left hand, I turned it on Reven. Equally functional shooting with my left or my right, my aim was spot on.

At least it would have been.

Reven must have seen me setting up because he was on the move and heading for the darkness before I could even squeeze the trigger. A wall of corpses shambled to get between us. Meant for the necromancer who was long gone, the bullet slammed into the chest of a zombie that’d moved into the way. The impact wobbled it and punched a hole in its torso, but did little else.

To the zombie that is. While it didn’t bring down Reven like I’d hoped, the sound of my gun going off had unintended consequences.

No doubt surprised I’d been able to go after her master, despite my injuries, the assassin broke off fighting with Veronica to come to Reven’s aid. Her loyalty cost her. Given the opening she needed, Veronica stepped inside and put her dagger to use. I heard Karra cry out as the blade gouged a deep, red groove across her hip, just below the protection of the vest. She stumbled, one of her swords tumbling free as she used her hand to keep from falling. Veronica closed to finish her off.

Once more Karra surprised me with how fast she was.

In one fluid motion, the assassin ducked under Veronica’s follow up swing and flopped to her back on the ground. As she hit, she whipped her arm upward, loosing a handful of dirt. The spray of small rocks and sand struck Veronica flush in the face, blinding her for just an instant. It was long enough.

Karra kicked and swept one of Veronica’s legs out from beneath her, forcing her to spin away to remain standing. The move opened up her back which the assassin took full advantage of. A quick flick of her remaining sword sunk the tip into my ex-wife’s spine. Veronica twitched violently for a second, then collapsed face first as the poison made its way through her nervous system.

I screamed and pulled the trigger at the same time, wanting nothing more than to put a hole through Karra’s head. But once more, she batted my bullets aside with ease while she rolled to a crouch, retrieving her other sword. Furious, I emptied the clip as she bounded toward me, weaving from side to side, her blades intercepting every bullet that came close. The chamber clicked hollow just as she moved to stand over me. The tip of a sword settled into the hollow of my throat. Her cold brown eyes stared out at me from behind her mask.

“I don’t want to kill you, but I will if you force my hand.” Her voice was soft and quiet, but with an off-setting warble to it. It sounded odd, like she was trying to disguise it.

Her voice the least of my worries, I growled, meeting her gaze. “Like you did her?” I motioned to Veronica who lay still in the dirt. “Or McConnell?”

“Once the paralysis runs its course, she’ll be fine. The wizard is another matter.” I caught a hint of venom as she mentioned McConnell. I could relate, but it still didn’t excuse her for what she’d done. Not that my opinion mattered much at this point. She had the upper hand and it held a sharp, pointy thing to my neck.

“Tell me what your boss is up to and maybe I can leave it be.” My brain scrambled to find a way out that got Baalth off my back and didn’t end with me being dead.

Dead is bad.

She shook her head. I wasn’t getting anything, not that I really expected to. “Just stay out of our way and maybe you’ll make it out alive.”

Doubtful. If it wasn’t her killing me it’d be Baalth for letting her get away. I sighed. As usual, I was neck deep in shit and going down fast.

She had to have seen the reluctance on my face, but she pulled her sword away regardless. “Let it go.”

She sheathed her swords, but remained there for a few seconds longer, just staring at me. Her eyes were indecipherable. At last, loosing a deep sigh, she headed back to where the zombies were, ordering them to assemble. Those in line fell out and ambled forward while the ones in the holes climbed up and joined the rest. Once gathered in a smelly, gibbering mass, they collected the filled tubs and the whole group headed out into the darkness of the desert, leaving behind the ruin of their drained victims.

Karra cast one last look back at me before joining them. Moments later they were gone, only the distant muttering of zombies and the howl of dusty winds were left to echo in the chill air. A few minutes after that, even the sound was gone.

I glanced at Veronica and saw her body twitch, her back rising gently as she breathed. Relieved she was alive I dug inside my pockets with my functional arm looking for Candy’s phone. After an aggravating struggle, trying to stick my left hand into the right-side pocket, I came up empty. I groaned, dropping back onto the sand as I remembered I’d left the phone at DRAC. It was sitting on Abraham’s desk.

The cavalry wasn’t coming.

With nothing left to do but wait, I rolled onto my side to keep an eye on Veronica. Face down with her ass slightly elevated by a mound of dirt, the paralysis holding her fast, my mind found its own way to pass the time.

I needed to get me some of that poison.