Dead Ice

I knew how to search for the undead, or even vampires, but I’d never tried to search just for someone like me. I knew what vampire felt like to my power. I let it “taste” the zombie in its grave. Warrington felt it, because he said, “What would you have of me, Ms. Blake?”

“I’m trying to find other undead, but first I have to ignore your energy, so I won’t keep picking up on zombies.” He probably didn’t understand most of what I’d said, but he replied with, “Let me but feed and I know I can help you.”

“Feed how?” I asked.

“Flesh.”

“You’re craving flesh again?”

“So hungry,” he said.

I still didn’t know what to do with the zombie in the grave, and I didn’t have time to figure it out right that minute. “I’ll attend to you later, Warrington; right now I have other dead to visit.”

“Free me and I will help you.”

“Be quiet, you’re distracting me.” He stopped talking, either because he wanted to be helpful or because I’d given him a direct order and he couldn’t disobey it. I hoped the latter, because that would mean he was closer to a normal zombie, and I needed some normal tonight.

I aimed my necromancy at the ghoul closest to me. He went very still, that stillness that zombies and vampires can have, as if the body stops. It’s a cessation of movement that live beings can’t do. We can hold our breath, but we can’t stop our hearts from beating, or the blood from flowing through our veins. The undead can do exactly that.

The ghoul looked at me and gave me the stillness that only the dead can, and my power tasted him, and then spilled out into the night to taste his brethren. There were five of them. The typical size for a group was between three and six, though I’d seen much larger packs before, but that had been the one under control of the other necromancer. I took their being a standard-size group as a good sign, because either the other necromancer couldn’t raise more, or it had been a normal pack that got taken over but not raised from the grave by the other necromancer. The first was impressive; the second would have been scary impressive.

I let my power taste all the graves, but in a cemetery this old there weren’t many hot spots; more likely over newer graves if the soul hasn’t gone on like normal, haunts that are more active hot spots, and then the very rare graveside ghost. Ghosts usually haunted places they’d lived, died, or enjoyed in life; most weren’t that attached to their actual graves. There were no ghosts at all, no hot spots, and only two haunts. I didn’t know what had tied the spirit to the graves, but it was wearing away like a string rubbing against a sharp rock; eventually the connection would break and the remnant of soul would join the rest of itself on the other side. Just getting a priest down here to reconsecrate the ground might free them both. Older graveyards like this one were usually quiet places, downright peaceful by my standards.

I knew the feel of all the dead and undead near me, so I set my necromancy searching for something that wasn’t a vampire, or a zombie, or a ghoul, or a ghost, or a haunt, or a hot spot, but was still of the dead. Manny flared next to me, his own power showing up now that I’d narrowed my search. That was a good sign; if I could sense Manny this strongly, then I’d be able to find someone powerful enough to control ghouls. They couldn’t hide from me now.

I aimed and searched for someone like me. I found others, but they were known powers: my coworkers at Animators Inc. and fellow U.S. Marshal Larry Kirkland. I’d combined my power with theirs back in the nights when I needed more help to raise multiple, older zombies. Manny had been the one who taught me I could act as a focus for other animators’ power. As I tasted the other animators’ magic I realized that combining all of us hadn’t been that different from bringing together all the different types of wereanimals, or even the vampire marks with Jean-Claude and the rest. It was all about combining power so you’d be able to do more together than apart, except the vampire version was permanent and the other wasn’t, but I still recognized their magic from miles away.

I reached past the familiar energies and searched for someone I didn’t know and had never worked with, but there was nothing. Nothing close enough to be controlling the ghouls around us in the dark. That needed proximity to work, just like controlling zombies.

“There’s no one close,” I said softly, my voice distant with power.

My phone rang, sharp and jarring, so I lost some of the thread of what I was doing. It’s easier to do magic while shooting a gun than answering a phone, or so I’ve found. I fumbled it out to turn the sound off, but recognized the number, so I took it.

“Larry,” I said.

“What the fuck are you playing at, Anita?” In person he looked like a grown-up Howdy Doody complete with orange-red hair, freckles, and a boyish face that still got him carded, though the fact that he was about my height probably didn’t help.

“Well, hello to you, too,” I said.

“Your power is all over me and you think I’m being rude?”

“Manny and I are in a cemetery with predatory ghouls; forgive me if my trying to control the situation got my psychic cooties on you.”

“Tell me where you are. Police can be there in minutes, and I’ll—”

“It’s okay, I think, Larry. Manny urged me to handle it with magic, not guns, and I’m trying.”

“What kind of magic could save you from ghouls once they’ve gone predatory?”