Sam had no idea how she expected him to respond to that, so he applied a rule his father had taught him—it’s better to look foolish for saying nothing at all than paint himself a fool by saying something stupid.
Old Rhea nodded as though she’d read the thought straight out of his mind and approved of its sentiment. “So, let’s have it, then. Speak yer piece, McCoy, and we’ll see if ancient Verbius, here, can dance as well as ye have.”
“Thank you, Judge Dubativo.” Sam looked down for a moment to gather his thoughts in order. When he raised his head, he found Rhea Dubativo’s penetrating gaze waiting for him.
“Your Honor, heinous crimes have been committed against the people of the Locus of New York. Horrible crimes that resulted in dismemberment, death, and worse, for mundanes and supernaturals alike. My learned colleague asserts that the Covenancy’s claim on justice is the higher, but without these charges filed in the Locus of New York, the Covenancy lacks the requisite felonies to bring TICO charges against Rose Marie Van Dee. If they are allowed to quash these charges, Ms. Van Dee can simply change her mind, and Verbius won’t have a leg to stand on.”
“Aye, aye. As much you said in yer brief, Mr. McCoy. I was wanting to hear new arguments, not the same one already written, trussed up with fine language as it was.”
McCoy looked down at the table for a moment, then said, “Your Honor, Ms. Van Dee is the head of the Zombie mafia in the Locus of New York. She’s never stood for criminal charges levied against her; she’s never even been close to the defendant’s table before. Why? It’s simple. She is insulated from the day-to-day evils of her organization. She has cut-outs in place, and we’ve never before had the leverage to get past those cut-outs. The People—”
“And ye do now?”
McCoy nodded. “Yes, we do, Your Honor. We have eye-witness testimony. We can lock Van Dee up for a lifetime at the very least.”
“And ye, old Verbius? What have ye to say?”
“Judge, my learned opponent’s arguments notwithstanding, the Covenancy has the right to assert—”
“Oh, nay, nay, nay, sirrah. I’ll not hear of rights and domains, and suchlike, nay. I’ll hear yer argue of real things. People and places, good and bad.”
“But, Your Honor,” said Verbius. “The Canon and Covenants explicitly address this issue in—”
“Are ye deaf, cully? Did yer betters never teach ye better than to persist in foolishness when warned against it?”
“I’m sorry, Your Honor.”
“And well ye should be, Sai Verbius. And well ye should be. Have ye more to say?”
Verbius frowned. “Could I have a moment to collect my thoughts?”
“Hurry, for your father’s sake! I’ve more to do this fine day than listen to the likes of ye.”
After clearing his throat, Verbuis lifted his head. “Judge Dubativo, you have asked me to couch my arguments in the everyday rather than the tenants of the Covenancy. If Mr. McCoy is allowed to quash our jurisdiction, the Covenancy will be in grave danger. Ms. Van Dee has information that we can use to stamp out the Zombie mafia across several Locii, and if Mr. McCoy proceeds with his reckless charges, she will keep that information in the dark corners of her heart, leaving many others to suffer.”
“What care have I for the suffering of others? What care have I for the fate of other Locii?”
“You don’t mean that, Your Honor!”
“Do I not?” Old Rhea threw back her head and cackled at the ceiling. “Hee! Ye may speak true, Verbius—and ye may not, mind—but what difference does it make? Why should the suffering of people in a far-off Locus trump the suffering of the people in this Locus?”
“Judge, we must look to the greater good. We must protect our society as a whole.”
“Must we?” asked Rhea, in an almost wistful tone.
“We must,” said Verbius with a stiff nod.
“Then tell me, sirrah. How do I define this greater good ye speak of?”
“In our society, we all make sacrifices—we all act for the many, rather than for ourselves. We obey the Covenant of Improper Action. For example, vampires obtain licenses to drink from the necks of the willing. And to do otherwise, Your Honor, would lead to chaos—the mundanes we rule would rise up against us, werewolves would go to war against vampires, demons against angels—these are but examples of the chaos that would ensue should the Covenancy fall.”
“Oh, aye,” said Rhea with a twinkle in her eye. “And witches would live in old shacks beyond the edges of town, ignored save when some pert girl needs her honesty proved, save when someone needs a bit o’ darkness hurled at his fellows.”
“Just so, Your Honor,” said Verbius.
“Claptrap.”
Verbius jerked his head back, a grimace of fury darkening his features. “I beg your pardon, Your Honor?”
“Yea, ‘tis nothing but bunk ye’ve rolled out on yer tongue like a peppermint. ‘Tis nothing more likely to occur than the Sun turning to gold and dropping into my pocket. ‘Tis the fiction of a great mind, no doubt, but in this world, cully, in this world, we run the show. Those beneath our feet could no more rise up than ye could sprout flapping wings to ride the winds to far and away. Nay, cully. Yer argument doesn’t persuade.”
Verbius could do no more than stand and stare, while Sam felt the beginnings of a grin on his lips.
Rhea Dubativo turned her hawk-like gaze on Sam, and her eyes narrowed. “Oh, don’t get smug, Sai McCoy. ‘Twas only of marginal improvement, yer argument.” She leaned back and released a heavy sigh. “Would that I could send ye both away, shunned and chastened… But alas, I cannot.” She reached for the gavel and drew it to her chest. “In this matter, The People of the Locus of New York versus the Covenancy, I, Rhea Dubativo, Weirdling of the Cöos, hereby quash the Covenancy’s assertion of jurisdiction in the matter of the People versus Rose Marie Van Dee.” She glared at McCoy for a moment before turning her baleful gaze on Verbius. “Ye can have her when Sai McCoy finishes with her.” She rapped the gavel on the sound block, then turned and made her ponderous way to her chambers.
Smiling, McCoy packed away his things and turned to go. Verbius stood at his table, looking stricken and surprised. “Don’t take it so hard, Verbius.”
“It makes no sense, Sam. Surely, you must see that the Covenancy has to be free to make deals to—”
“Like the old crone said, you can have her when I’m finished. Guilty verdicts can only help you, Verbius.”
Shaking his head, Verbius turned and left the courtroom without another word.
10
Adam Hill swept the door open with a crash and stood in the hall glowering at Sam. “You’re happy, now? I certainly hope so. You’ve managed to alienate the Magister General and half the Covenancy with your little ploy.”
Sam pushed away from his desk and swiveled in his chair to face the door. “I couldn’t let her get away with everything she’s done, Adam.”
“Of course, you couldn’t! Sam The Stakeman McCoy never loses a case!”
“It’s not about me—”
“Of course it is! You’d better make good on this mess, Sam!” Adam whirled and stomped away, just as Angie entered Sam’s office from the other door.
“Uh oh,” she said. “Is Daddy mad?”
Sam treated her to a smile. “He is, but he’ll get over it when we convict Van Dee.”
“I heard he’s been on the phone to the Magister General himself for the past hour.”
“I thought his ass looked a little chewed.”
“And how’s yours looking?”
“Don’t worry about me. If Adam was really angry, he’d have my resignation already.”
Angie looked at the empty doorway for a moment before crossing the office to close the door. “We might have a little trouble from Jack Barnett.”
“I doubt it. It’s far too late for him to go back to Rose Marie.”
“He’s grumpy about his limbs. Or rather, the lack of them.”
Angie shrugged with her eyebrows and hitched one side of her mouth up. “It seems he can.”
McCoy lifted his eyebrows and scoffed. “The nerve of that guy.”
“He’s only half the problem.”
“His girlfriend.”
“Guessed it in one. She says if Jack isn’t happy, she isn’t happy.”
“Isn’t she the one who was so worried about having her parts spread all across the countryside?”
“Yes, but they seem to have recognized we’re sunk without them.”
“But we have no control over the Body Part Procurement and Transport Network! We can put him on the list, but it’ll take years to work his way to the top.”
Angie nodded. “The Van Dee Cabal is in the body parts business because of the BPPTN’s legendary slowness. He says Mama Zombie can get him the parts he needs tomorrow. No list, no muss, no fuss.”
“How does he know that? Have they contacted their former associates?”
“Leery says they haven’t.” Angie shrugged and flopped herself into an empty chair. “Barnett claims he could make a call and have fresh parts within a few hours, then one of their pet morticians would come and connect them up.”
“And what about repercussions for squealing?”
Angie heaved a sigh. “He claims that after they’d been left to rot for a few decades, Rose Marie would gather them back up and put them to work. He also says they would have no memories of the time. It’s like being in a coma, evidently.”
“He’s bluffing!”
Angie pulled on her bottom lip. “Maybe so.”
“Even if he isn’t, there’s nothing we can do. The BPPTN is an independent organization for a reason.”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t seem sure.”
“No, it’s…” Angie pulled on her lip, staring past Sam and out the window.
“It’s what?”
Moving with slow deliberation, she turned her gaze to meet his. “The thing is, we can get him replacement parts.”
“What? How?”
“We already have them—in the SIS evidence locker. And both Jack and Dee know we have them.”
Sam lifted his chin, his face devoid of emotion. “From the raid.”
Angie nodded.
“You can’t be serious!”
“Look, Sam, I’m trying to solve this problem. This is the only way I see us getting past it, short of calling Rose Marie’s newest chop shop and putting in an order.”
“Here’s an idea. What if we drop Jack Barnett into general population under Rikers? Without new limbs.”
“He’d be chopped up and spread around the dungeon within a day.”
Sam shrugged. “Probably, but you don’t know that for sure.”
“And what? Let Rose Marie Van Dee go?”
“This Dee Terry would come around after she sees what befalls her friend.”
“That’s a bad idea, Sam. Really bad.”
“Stealing and illegally distributing evidence is a better idea?”
Angie returned his gaze with calm detachment. “We don’t need to steal it. We have plenty of parts from the raid. Who’s to say we don’t release certain items for disposal?”
Sam sucked his teeth and shook his head once. “There’s no other way?”
“Not that I can see.”
“Set it up, then,” he said with a sigh.
11
Jack wobbled out of the room behind Dee and Dru, still a little unsteady on his feet. “I swear one of these legs is the wrong length.”
“Nah, I measured ‘em. They are exact matches.”
Dee scoffed. “One is Asian, and one is white, Oriscoe.”
“Ah, but they’re the same length.” He took a swig of coffee. “Come on. We don’t want to be late for the big show. And make sure you got everything. We won’t be coming back here.”
“Thank goodness for that.” Dee glanced around, looking like a ferret checking for predators. “I can’t believe there’s only two of you.”
“Relax,” said Dru. “No one knows where this dump is.”
They climbed down the stairs to the underground parking lot and pushed out into the damp, dark space. “The car’s pretty close,” said Leery, tossing his empty coffee cup on the ground. “Follow me.” He took off, but neither Dee nor Jack moved an inch, and he stopped and turned back. “What is it now?”
Dee pointed at two white vans parked at the other end of the row.
“Work vans. So what?”
“We know those vans,” said Jack. “Our…uh…retrieval teams drive vans like that.”
“Yeah, your retrieval teams and every workman in the city. Come on.” He turned and continued walking to his dark blue Crown Victoria. He popped the trunk when he arrived and shuffled things around, trying to make room for Dee and Jack’s bags.
Dru approached, shaking her head. “You couldn’t have cleaned this out before?”
“What, and miss the fun of you telling me I should’ve done it before? Nah.” He pulled a brass menorah and his black woolen hat from the trunk. “Hold these, will you?”
“A menorah? Why are carting this around? It’s nowhere near Hanukkah. You need to get that beast inside you under control.”
“Yeah, because werewolves aren’t stubborn at all.” He waved at Dee and Jack, who had lagged behind. “Come on, slowpokes.”
Jack glared at him and opened his mouth to speak, but his gaze shifted to something behind Leery, and he loosed an incoherent cry instead.
Leery whirled to see the back doors of both white vans disgorging zombies. “Great,” he muttered and began a rapid transformation, tearing his clothes asunder. Dru dropped the menorah and the hat and traced fourteen small runes in the air, then connected them with a chartreuse seven-pointed star. Leery stooped and scooped up the hat and the menorah, seating the first on his lupine skull and grasping the second by its base. As Dru connected the last point of the star, a brilliant red-orange light flared around the rune set, stabbing into even the darkest corners of the garage.
For a moment, the attacking zombies froze in that coquelicot-colored light, but only for a moment. With harsh cries, they sprinted toward the Crown Victoria.
Leery snarled at the oncoming zombies and swung the menorah at the first of them, braining him and sending enough gore flying to please any splatterpunk fan. The zombie he struck spun in a half-circle, his jaw flapping soundlessly as he pitched to the concrete.
“Down!” Dru shouted, and Leery dropped to the ground. She barked a harsh word in the Verba Patiendi, and the blood garnet on the end of her staff blazed with blood-red light. Her rune set pulsed, once, twice, and then began to spin counterclockwise. Brilliant orange and vermillion flames exploded outward from the seven-pointed star, hissing through the air like God’s own vengeance.
Zombies caught in the blast sizzled and popped like dry, sap-filled wood, then burst into flame, gushing greasy black smoke. But they came on anyway, a tide of burning putrescence.
Leery shot a look at Dru over his shoulder and barked, jerking his chin toward the car. Without waiting to see that she did as he wanted—or even that she understood—he sprang toward the wave of charging zombies, holding the menorah high above his head like a cudgel.
Dru turned to their charges and yelled, “Get in the damn car!” Then ran for the driver’s side door.
Leery landed square in the middle of the zombie horde and swung the menorah like an avenging angel. His payot flew as he spun side to side, laying about himself with both menorah and claw. Behind him, Dru barked a word of power, that rang in his ears, followed by the familiar tingle of a ward settling on his shoulders.
The zombies circled him, keeping wary eyes on the whistling menorah and wicked claws. He spun in circles, slashing, bashing, kicking, snapping his teeth, but there were too many of them
—at least twenty once-human candles circled him, sizzling fat and melting skin dripping to the concrete.
When he heard the Crown Vic’s eight-cylinder engine roar to life, Leery howled. Tires screeching, the car whipped by, smashing through the zombies on his left and hurling them through the air. With a snarl, Leery jabbed the menorah at the remaining zombies, then sprinted after the car, pouring on every ounce of speed his wolf form had to spare.
The zombies chased him up the ramp that led to the street, screaming with rage. Leery caught the tail of the Crown Vic sliding around the corner down the block, and his lips peeled back in the wolf equivalent of a smile. He pelted for the alley across the street. His hat tried to come off in the wind generated by his passage, but he slapped a hand on top of his head, still grasping the menorah in the other.
The alley was cool and dark in the watery gray light of early morning, and he blended in as if made for urban stealth, flickering from shadow to shadow. A few of the fastest zombies reached the mouth of the alley behind him, raising a cry and starting after him.
Dru brought the car to a screeching halt at the other end of the alley and flung the passenger door open. Leery put his head down and poured on the speed.
He bounded into the car, changing his skin in midair, and Dru floored it, racing away from the alley before he’d even closed the door.
“I called it in on the way around the block,” said Dru. “Van Helsing is sending in SWAT—ones she knows aren’t bent.”
“Good. It would serve those dead bastards right to get stomped on a little bit.” Leery blew out a long breath, looking at a long burn that stretched the length of his right forearm. He glanced at the two zombies in the back seat. “That’s two sets of clothes you two owe me,” he groused.
“Are you alright?” asked Dru, darting a glance at him.
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