Dead Ice

“It’s not alive.”

“Why is it this aware, then?”

“I told you, he was a cannibal in life.”

“And that explains why he didn’t die again when you put him in the grave tonight?”

“Maybe; it’s all I got to explain it, so yeah, we’ll go with that.”

“Anita, you don’t know, do you?”

“If you were your boss I’d deny it, but no, Zerbrowski, I don’t know.”

“Shit,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“Then we have no choice but to treat him like you would treat any rogue zombie, Anita,” Manny said.

“What do you mean, Manny?”

“Shoot his head off and hopefully blow his brains out so he’s not aware, and then let the fire team turn him to ashes.”

“There’s got to be another way, Manny.”

“Legally, we can put the dirt back and just leave him as he is.”

“No,” I said.

“No,” Zerbrowski said, “we can’t do that.”

“If we can’t put him back with voodoo, then what choice do we have but to treat him as we would any rogue zombie?”

“Manny, there’s got to be another way.”

“I would be glad to hear it, Anita. I liked Warrington, he seemed a decent man, but what’s in that grave is not him. It was never him.”

“Then what was it, Manny? What the fuck did I raise from the grave tonight?”

“I don’t know, but it’s rotting like any zombie; you know that sometimes the mind is the last thing to go. It is the cruelest way for them to rot, but it happens, we’ve both seen it before. This is no different.”

“They don’t have this much mind to begin with, Manny, and you know it. Don’t stand there and tell me it’s not different this time.”

He just looked at me.

“Manny, damn it.”

“I’m sorry, Anita, truly, but we must do something before dawn. If that happens first then he could fall back into death, but it might last only until nightfall and then he would be trapped again, drowning in the dirt of his own grave. Can you not feel how close dawn is, Anita?”

I had been feeling it, but finally acknowledged it. It was still as dark as it had been all night, but there was a softness in the air, a breath of dawn. All the animators I knew who had survived for any length of time as vampire executioners had been able to feel the rise and setting of the sun, even underground in the dark. We just knew, as if the sun traveled not just across the sky but through our bodies.

Zerbrowski checked his iPhone in the dark. “We’ve got an hour until dawn, though I never understand how both of you always know that.”

“It’s a gift,” I said, but I was already turning toward the grave. The zombie had stopped screaming.

“When did he stop screaming?” Zerbrowski asked.

None of us could answer him. Into the strangely eerie silence came not a sound, but a feeling, as if the air had changed. “What is that, Manny?”

“I’m not sure.”

We looked at each other and without a word started walking back toward the grave. I pointed the shotgun skyward, but my hands were now in position so the gun could be brought to bear immediately. I was no longer holding it safely, but idly.

“What are you guys sensing that I’m not?” Zerbrowski asked.

“It’s not vampires,” I said softly.

“I would not know that for certain,” Manny whispered.

“Trust me,” I said.

“On this, I do.”

“Is it more zombies?” Zerbrowski asked.

“It’s too . . . active for that,” Manny said, voice still soft, but there was no reason to whisper when we could hear everyone else ahead of us talking normally.

Nicky was motioning to the extermination team. He was wanting them closer in with everyone else. “I didn’t think Mr. Muscles was sensitive to this stuff.”

“He’s not, but he felt me sense it.”

Zerbrowski frowned at me. I had a moment of wondering just how much I’d told Zerbrowski about Nicky. Did he know absolutely that he was my Bride? No, I hadn’t burdened my fellow cop with that knowledge. If the police understood just how connected I was to the “monsters” they’d be sure my loyalty was compromised. They already mistrusted me because I was with Jean-Claude and Micah. Zerbrowski didn’t care, or I didn’t think he would, but his bosses would, and I didn’t want to put him in a position that could hurt his career.

“We’re very in tune with each other,” I said, and knew it sounded lame.

He gave me the look the weak comment deserved, but his gun was in his hand in a more serious way, just like my shotgun. He didn’t know what was going on, but he was following my lead just like Nicky. I glanced at Manny.

“Are you armed at all?”

“You know I don’t carry guns.”

“Knife?”

“Pocket knife.”

“Stay safe, stay behind us, or out of the way, or something.”

“You’d send me to the car if you could.”

“Yes, you’re unarmed.”

“This feels like a matter for magic, not mayhem, Anita, but because you carry a gun you think about shooting before you think about using your necromancy.”

That made me hesitate and look at him. Was he right? Well, yeah, but most bad things weren’t bulletproof, and a lot of them were necromancy-proof. I went with the sure winner in an emergency, but he was right about one thing: This was something that hit my power, and his.