Dead Ice

Susannah and her father were beside the grave but still on the opposite side of it from the others. The grave diggers were already close to Domino and Nicky. Domino was staring out at the night, shotgun held pointed at the ground, but ready. Nicky was still trying to get the last two people with us around the grave so we’d all be on the same side of it.

I heard Eddie say, “Fire scares everything; bullets don’t.” Translation: He trusted their flamethrowers more than the guns.

Susannah said, “Dad, just do what they say.”

I saw movement, but it was more an impression, and then something was leaping out of the darkness onto Eddie. I had a moment to see silver-gray skin, a humanoid face, and then I’d brought the shotgun up and knew that Nicky and Domino were doing the same.

Manny yelled, “Don’t shoot!”

Domino yelled, “Anita!” I knew he was asking for orders. I had a heartbeat to decide whether we were shooting the ghoul, or I was using magic. It was one of those moments when being the cop, the psychic, and the person in charge crashed headlong into each other. I hesitated and knew that was the biggest mistake of all.

35

“MAGIC, ANITA,” MANNY said.

Susannah was yelling, “Shoot it!”

Eddie was on the ground covering the back of his neck and head; he’d made his decision that he’d give the ghoul an arm to chew first. It was the right decision; I wasn’t sure about mine.

“Give the word,” Nicky said. I didn’t have to look to know he was aiming at the ghoul’s head just like I was from my angle.

The ghoul had flattened itself to Eddie’s back, the darker gray of its skin looking less silver than usual against the shininess of his fire suit. It was mostly nude with only remnants of pants clinging to it like some comic book hero that had to get by the censors. Muscles corded in the back of its body as it pressed itself against Eddie and the tank of fuel on his back.

“Domino, stand down, no shotguns.” I lowered mine to show I meant it.

The ghoul hissed at us, flashing red eyes that seemed to glow in the dark. It made a high chittering sound and was answered from farther back in the trees.

“There’s more of them,” Zerbrowski said.

“Ghouls always run in packs,” I said.

“Nicky, do you see the problem?”

“Fuel,” he said, voice tight and controlled.

“Do you have it?”

“No.”

“What does he mean?” Zerbrowski asked.

“He doesn’t have a shot without risking hitting the fuel on Eddie’s back.” If we’d had a clean shot, would I have tried Manny’s suggestion? Probably not, but we didn’t have a shot and this ghoul wasn’t acting normal.

“They’re cowards, they don’t attack like this,” I said, more to myself than anyone else.

“It hasn’t attacked,” Manny said.

“What do you call it then?” Zerbrowski asked. He still had his gun out, just pointed two-handed at the ground.

The ghoul hissed again, kneading long curved talons against Eddie’s back. I knew there’d be matching talons on the bare feet. They might look like gray-colored people, but they had teeth and claws like your worst predator nightmare. It chittered again, and the others answered it from the woods. I caught pale glimpses of other figures, but they were staying back out of range. The only other time I’d seen ghouls this active and thinking, a murderous necromancer had been controlling them. It was the only time I’d ever known anyone to be able to control ghouls. They were the wild cards of the undead; no one knew why they rose from their graves, but they were scavengers, cowards, skulkers in the dark eating buried corpses and bones of the long dead if they couldn’t get fresh.

“Eddie was right, they are afraid of fire,” Manny said.

“Ghouls don’t strategize, Manny.”

“If we can’t shoot it, try magic,” he said.

“Do something fast,” Domino said. “They’re trying to surround us.”

“If you see anyone in the woods that isn’t ghoul, or us, shoot them.”

“Why?” Domino asked.

“Because the last time I saw ghouls act like this, another necromancer was controlling them.”

“Shoot the wizard first,” Nicky said.

“Usually,” I said.

I’d never tried to use my necromancy on ghouls. One, they were rare; two, they usually minded their own business and hid from people. You were only called in when they tunneled from an older cemetery into a new one where people got upset about their loved ones’ bodies being eaten by them, or when a drunk passed out and got eaten by them, just like we’d told Zerbrowski earlier.

I didn’t so much lower my shields as just let my necromancy go. It was like opening a fist that you’ve kept tightly closed; suddenly you can spread your fingers and let the tension go. My necromancy flowed out from me like a seeking wind. Once it hadn’t been a real wind; that was just the closest analogy I’d had for it when I searched a cemetery for hot spots, ghosts, ghouls, and such, but it wasn’t a metaphorical wind anymore, and hadn’t been for years.

Manny shivered next to me. He said something in Spanish too fast for me to catch it all, but he called on God in there somewhere. I wasn’t sure if he was asking for help, or afraid of what he was feeling; maybe I didn’t want to know.

That seeking wind touched the grave and the zombie first. It curled around him, knew him, so that Warrington said, “God”; again I wasn’t sure if it was a cry for help or I’d become his god. Again, I didn’t want to know. My magic swirled out just a little farther and found the ghoul sitting on top of Eddie. It stopped snarling and looked at me. Ghouls’ eyes were usually like looking into the eyes of wolves or other wild animals—no one home that we could understand or talk to—but there was more there in this look; not a lot more, but it wasn’t just animal looking back at me. I knew then that it hadn’t been accidental, him jumping on Eddie and compromising the fuel tank. That was a fuckton of reasoning for a ghoul.