Blood Rite

by E.J. Stevens

  “No, we’d be dead,” I said.

  “Like I said,” he said.

  A zombie clown ambled around a large, rusty fuel tank, heading our way. It wasn’t really a clown, but it hurt my brain less than trying to formulate a more accurate description of the monstrous looking faerie. I’m sure that in the dim lighting of a circus tent, and with less deterioration of the makeup painted on its face, it would have passed for a clown. Human imagination and a subconscious ostrich-like sense of self-preservation would have filled in the rest of the illusion.

  “I suggest we stop talking now,” Ceff said.

  The zombie didn’t come straight at us, thank Mab. At the corner of the building, it turned, following a weed-strewn gravel path. With its back now to us, and the immediate threat gone, I edged out from our hiding spot.

  Torn was faster. With the litheness of a tiger, he sauntered the alley that ran alongside the building, turned back, flexed his claws, and winked.

  I shrugged. I was a psychic detective. Somedays you follow the money. Other days you follow the dead.

  Chapter 13

  “Come on,” I whispered, waving us forward.

  Torn cocked an eyebrow, but I shook my head and gestured with two fingers, pointing back and forth between my eyes and the alley the zombie clown was shuffling past. This would be eyes only. I wish there was a gesture for please don’t get us all killed or keep your weapons in your pants, Torn. That would come in handy.

  At least the cat sidhe lord was stealthy. I’d give him that.

  Torn prowled forward, taking the lead. I didn’t mind him taking point on this. He was best equipped for stalking the zombie clown. I might have the potential light-footedness and dexterity of a faerie, but I was still new to my abilities. The faster reflexes and dancer-like grace had lain dormant in blood and bone for years due to my father’s spell. Torn was much more practiced at hunting prey and being sneaky.

  Ceff was also gifted with faerie grace and the benefit of centuries of practice, moving along with fluid elegance. But rather than rush forward like a wave breaking on the shore, Ceff preferred to follow at my heels, providing a solid defense in case we were attacked from behind. Not that he couldn’t provide a powerful offense. He just preferred to support those he loved, and surprise, surprise, that included me. He would always have my back.

  So, with Torn in the lead, Ceff bringing up the rear, and me as the wisp in the middle, we followed the zombie clown as it shuffled along weed and sawdust strewn paths between outbuildings. It wasn’t terribly exciting. It was just us, a zombie wearing ridiculous footwear, and the creak of the Ferris wheel looming over everything like a rusting sword of Damocles.

  But as the outbuildings gave way to canvas tents, I started spying the occasional zombie rodent, even a zombie bird that walked along rather pathetically, no longer able to fly. The zombies were heading in the same direction as our clown. It wasn’t what I’d call a horde, but it was disconcerting, nonetheless.

  I rubbed at my neck, fidgeting enough to catch Torn’s attention.

  “Ants in your pants, princess?” he asked, leering at my jeans.

  I rolled my eyes, but Torn did have a point. My skin itched, burning needles of pain stinging my face and arms, even the soles of my feet.

  “Anyone else feel like they’re being licked by a pixie?” I asked.

  Torn, for once, actually looked concerned. His face had gone ashen, body losing its feline grace as it went rigid. Oh, sure. He was all eager to go storm the gates and go fight an uber powerful necromancer, but mention the mere possibility of being pixed and the man was shaking in his supple leather boots.

  “I do think zombie pixies are where I draw the line, princess” he said, eyes darting around warily.

  “There do not appear to be pixies, or any of their hives, in the vicinity,” Ceff said, studying me. “But you are reacting to something.”

  “Maybe, I’m allergic to zombies?” I asked.

  As far as allergies went, that wasn’t too bad. I mean, some people had to give up peanut butter. I just had to stop a necromancer and his pet zombies.

  I wonder if there was a cream for that. Zombiedryl? Necrosporin? I should call Arachne. She might know. Normally, I’d ask Kaye, but she was stuck in a coma. My eyes watered and I blinked rapidly. Pesky allergies.

  “It is more likely that you are reacting to an influx of magic here,” Ceff said. “Something about this place feels wrong somehow.”

  “Now that you mention it, fish breath,” Torn said. “There’s nothing alive here, except us. No seagulls. No raccoons. Not even any grass or weeds growing here.”

  He was right. The carnival grounds should have attracted scavengers. But the only things moving around these tents were dead. We’d left everything living back at the outbuildings.

  “Think this itchy death magic stuff might kill us?” I asked.

  Ceff shrugged, but Torn looked ready to dance a jig. Weirdo.

  “I suggest we gather whatever information we can and leave this place,” Ceff said.

  I nodded. He didn’t have to tell me twice. I felt like I had a case of poison ivy and, with Marvin’s nickname for me, I was fully aware of the irony. The sooner we found out where the zombie clown was headed, the sooner we could fall back and regroup, and maybe take a bath in calamine lotion.

  Torn stalked forward, increasing our pace. We made it past two larger tents, nearing the center of the carnival grounds, when he raised a hand, bringing us to an abrupt halt. He waved around the corner and I frowned.

  Ceff and I inched forward, edging around the tent for a better look at whatever had caught Torn’s interest. I gasped.

  Zombies of every shape and size followed the paths here. Some even tore or gnawed through canvas in their urgency, tripping over tent pegs and tangling in the guide ropes. Zombified centaurs, gryphons, goblins, and leprechauns converged on the sprawling black and red building that crouched at the edge of the courtyard like a spider.

  The building was painted to look like the walls oozed blood, the faces of tortured ghosts pressing against the black paint. A track ran in and out of the building, rusty metal seats with safety bars sitting as silent witnesses to the zombies lurching their way inside. The fact that the opening was painted to look like the bloody maw of some fanged beast made it even more disturbing, if that was even possible.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I muttered.

  There were dozens of the zombie faeries. Maybe more. If those zombies were heading home to their master, then that meant he was hiding inside the creepiest place in the entire abandoned carnival grounds.

  Death magic tingled along my skin and I shook my head. Mab’s bloody bones. The necromancer was hiding out in the Haunted House.

  Chapter 14

  I’ve been told that I’m stubborn. I’ve been called a fool. But every cell in my body was telling me that now was not the time to fight. With the ever-growing horde of zombies heading toward the carnival Haunted House ride, I spun on my heel and ran.

  I guess I’d learned a thing or two in recent months. Surviving more than one supernatural invasion will do that. My calves burned, but I put on a boost of speed, sprinting to the alley where we’d first caught sight of the zombie clown.

  I’d been worried about that one zombie. Funny how things change. I took a ragged breath and rubbed a gloved hand over my face. At least my skin had stopped itching.

  “What now?” Torn asked.

  “We still need to search the graveyard,” I said. “That’s where they performed the blood ritual in my vision.”

  “Isn’t that where that zombie clown came from?” he asked.

  I spun, jumping at shadows. I palmed my knives, feeling the weight of spying eyes.

  “Are you okay?” Ceff asked. “I still think we should take a rest before continuing our investigations.

  “Please say we’re going to hunt zombies now,” Torn said. “I’m getting bored with hide and seek.”

  I scanned th
e rooftops and glanced up and down the alley, but there was nothing there. Maybe, Ceff was right. I probably did need a break after that vision and after the fear of chasing after a zombie clown and running from a nightmare-filled Haunted House had drained my body of adrenaline. I was tired and twitchy, but I didn’t have time to rest.

  “Yes, no,” I said, catching my breath. “Yes, I’m okay. No, we’re not hunting zombies right now. That was some hardcore magic back there, fueled by a whole lot of blood and death. I’m not eager to go toe to toe with our necromancer just yet.”

  “Speak for yourself, princess,” Torn said.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” I said, smiling and showing too many teeth. The afterimage of a ruby red slipper was still etched into my mind alongside the knowledge of what had happened to those carnival fae in the dumpster and what was happening to the bodies of faeries in cemeteries all over Harborsmouth. “I want to take this evil bastard down.

  “And you must complete your contract with Gaius,” Ceff said. “Faerie has a way of holding us to our promises.”

  Sadly, I knew that all too well. I’d made more than one bargain since becoming increasingly fae. Headaches and exhaustion were just the tip of the iceberg. If I didn’t find out who was encroaching on the vampire master’s harvesting rights, I could wind up dead.

  “Think telling him it’s a necromancer who’s hiding out in the carnival grounds would do the trick?” I asked, half-heartedly.

  “No,” Ceff said shaking his head. “Gaius was aware of the zombies from the beginning, so we can assume he knew a necromancer was the most likely suspect. The only new information you have to give him is a possible location.”

  “And then he might show up in a rage, throw a major temper tantrum, and cause this whole thing to go sideways, fast,” I said.

  I shivered, remembering how quickly Gaius vamped out in my office, fangs as big as a damn walrus, pink-tinged spittle at the corners of his mouth. The vampire master most definitely had zero chill about someone stealing his corpses. Finding a Haunted House ride filled with his rightful property, as he’d see it, frolicking under his nose would surely piss him off.

  “Not to mention steal all the fun,” Torn said.

  “Yeah, that’s totally what I was worried about,” I said, letting out an amused snort. “Come on. Break time is over. Let’s go check out that graveyard. It’s not far.”

  Ceff gave me a concerned glance, but nodded. If I looked as bad as I felt, I’m sure I was a sight to behold. I probably didn’t look all that different from some of those zombies. I was tired, I might still have vomit on my face, and I’d been skulking around dumpsters.

  And that was before we went to investigate the Green Lady’s burial grounds.

  I walked around the maintenance building, listening for the telltale shuffle of zombie feet, but it was strangely silent. It was as if the world held its collective breath as we stepped into the weed-strewn graveyard.

  “This place is creepy,” I said.

  As if the yawning graves, splintered coffins, and broken headstones weren’t bad enough, there were the seemingly random things the zombies had left behind. The bits and pieces of corpses, left like leprotic breadcrumbs, were disgusting. The shoes, framed photographs, and teddy bears were downright disturbing.

  “And empty,” Torn said. “Looks like our clown friend was one of the last to dig its way out and join the others on their pilgrimage.”

  “There should be more,” Ceff said.

  A chill ran along my back and neck like spiders skittering up and down my spine.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “More what?”

  “More graves,” he said, frowning. “The carnival fae were numerous and they lived a dangerous life here under the Green Lady’s rule. There should be more graves. A lot more.”

  “Awesome,” I muttered. “Just awesome.”

  “Maybe they took them somewhere else to bury?” Torn asked.

  Ceff shrugged, but his brow was wrinkled. I wasn’t great at math, but now that I thought about it, Ceff was right. Something hinky was going on.

  “I could touch one of the mementos their loved ones left here,” I said, forcing my shoulders back, holding my chin high. “Grief usually leaves behind a psychic impression. It might give us a clue as to why there aren’t more graves.”

  I waited for Ceff to argue. A small voice in the back of my mind even wanted him to. But he nodded and gave me a reassuring smile. Even Torn was being supportive in his own way.

  “How about that photograph, princess?” he asked, pointing at a framed photo of a centaur and his family. “Probably less likely to scramble your brain than a child’s toy.”

  “Thanks,” I said drily.

  The vision wasn’t easy, but Torn was right. It didn’t scramble my brain. I did, however, wind up face down in grave dirt.

  I spit and frantically wiped at my face. My gloves were back on my hands, thank Mab. Ceff must have slid them on while trying to pull me back to myself. That explained the sensation of being shot from a catapult into a stone wall.

  Every muscle in my body ached, but I was alive, and I had learned something valuable.

  “I know where the other bodies are,” I said.

  “Where?” Torn asked, leaning forward.

  “Some place called the Necropolis,” I said.

  “Cheery name, has a nice ring to it,” he said.

  “Right, well, I guess the Green Lady made a deal for her dead to be buried there,” I said. I swallowed and pulled myself to my feet. My legs felt like soggy gluten-free noodles, but I was upright. “I think they ran out of room here.”

  I waved a gloved hand at the small graveyard. Ceff nodded.

  “Not enough land here,” he said. “And the vampires wouldn’t have been willing to sell any of their precious real estate.”

  “And burying carnival fae in the human or pet cemeteries around the city would have risked breaking the First Law,” Torn said. “The glaistig already walked a fine line with her carnival freak shows. The courts would not have shown her or her people mercy.”

  “It gets better,” I said. “This Necropolis? I’m pretty sure it’s whatever was beyond that portal from my vision.”

  “Looks like we need to learn more about this Necropolis,” Torn said.

  “I agree,” I said. “I also need a change of clothes.”

  “You do smell, princess,” he said.

  “Thanks,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I need to stop by the loft. I can grab a change of clothes and check in with Jinx before heading to Father Michael’s.”

  “I don’t like churches,” Torn said with a frown. “Count me out.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that,” I said. Torn shot me a suspicious scowl, and I lifted my hands. “Someone needs to stay here and keep watch.”

  Unless they were crossing saltwater, or could swim, the zombies weren’t leaving the abandoned amusement park. Once they entered, they didn’t exit out through the front gates. If so, we would have seen them.

  “I think we can agree there’s only one way in or out,” I said. “And every zombie we’ve seen was heading toward the Haunted House ride. There’s no other way off this pier that doesn’t involve saltwater, not unless they have an invisible boat.”

  Saltwater nullifies most magic. I was guessing that a dip in the harbor would have dire consequences for the necromancer’s pets. It was enough to have me wishing I owned a small island somewhere. Actually, it wasn’t a bad idea for a honeymoon destination.

  “They don’t have an invisible boat, do they, fish breath?” Torn asked.

  It was a valid question. My second sight can cut through glamour, but there are other types of spells that can hide and obfuscate. Torn should know.

  “No boat,” Ceff said with a wry grin.

  “So, there’s probably a portal inside the Haunted House ride, like the one I saw the necromancer use in my vision,” I said.

  At least, I hoped so. Sort of. It was better than
imagining a clown car situation. A zombie clown car situation. I covered a rising giggle with a cough. If I started laughing now, I wouldn’t be able to stop.

  I bit my lip and focused on the pieces of fur and bone dangling from Torn’s tattered ear. It reminded me of how death clung to me and my friends, and how much the cat lord enjoyed, reveled in, that fact.

  “The portal that leads to this Necropolis?” Torn asked.

  “Maybe,” I said. “I need to get more information to know for sure. But whoever stays here and keeps watch will have to be a skilled fighter. And brave. It might be dangerous. Maybe even deadly.”

  “I’ll do it,” Torn said.

  Chapter 15

  With Torn working surveillance and with an idea of where the city’s zombies were heading, I could breathe a little easier. Too bad I smelled like death and rot and the juice usually reserved for the bottom of a garbage bag. The sickeningly sweet stench was so putrid I could barely stand it, but here on the outskirts of the harbor, we weren’t all that far from Eden Park, the magic gardens that were now home to many of the city’s less violent faeries.

  “Let’s pay Marvin and Hob a visit,” I said, a fluttery feeling in my chest as I set off down the sidewalk.

  “They were safe when I visited with them this morning,” Ceff said.

  I knew that Ceff had paid our friends a visit, Sparky in tow, informing Hob and Marvin of a potential zombie threat. The threat at the time had been zombie gerbils, but still, they’d had a warning that there were new supernatural hijinks afoot in Harborsmouth and that Gaius had worked himself into a dusty lather over it.

  “I’d still feel better checking in with them,” I said, lifting a shoulder. “And it’s not like I can call them with an update.”

  Not anymore. The words hung in the air unspoken.

  The gardens of Eden Park were beautiful and nothing less than an Oberon damn miracle. The gorgeous greenery, clean water, and riot of flowers sprung from the bodies of the fallen huntsmen. Many of the more peaceful and diminutive faeries now thrived here in what once had been nothing more than broken pavement, rusty corrugated warehouses, and a small stream choked with sewage and contaminated by industrial waste.