Zombies Sold Separately

by Cheyenne McCray

  The gardener gave a slight bow before going to the water pump. He would burn the rags that had once been Maia’s dress and then he would wash away her cremated body so that her remains would join others’. It was a place where Amory had been forced to put many out of their misery.

  He walked up the path to the back steps of the manor. As he entered the cool interior, he swept his hand over the top of his bald head and felt nothing but smooth, warm skin. It still jarred him a little to not feel his own long, brittle graying red hair, to not see his own reflection staring back at him whenever he looked in the mirror.

  But this body was young, strong, powerful. He felt alive again. With his magic, once he was living in the Earth Otherworld with his people, this body would never die.

  The interior of the manor was dark and cool compared to the brightness and warmth of the day. It was as he preferred it to be. He sensed his servants at hand but they kept well out of sight and would only appear the moment he needed one of them. They were well trained.

  When Amory reached the Room of Life, he paused at the threshold of the cavern. Thousands upon thousands of egg-shaped stones glittered and sparkled, reflecting the light of dozens of candles that were lit throughout the cavern.

  In that place, the life within the stones gave him renewed vigor. It made it easier for him to let go of the pain of extinguishing a single life only moments ago.

  Amory took the steps one at a time until he was inside the cavern that was deep below the manor. He strode to a far wall where he kept larger stones that were closer to the size of ducks’ eggs than hens’.

  Amory picked up one of the larger stones and smiled as he held it to eye level. The front of the stone was flat, like a window.

  He called to the magic of the stone, willing it to bring to him what he wished to see.

  Manhattan’s skyline filled his view.

  The Sorcerer smiled.

  THREE

  Tuesday, December 21

  Adam would love the red silky panties and bra I slipped into—lingerie that Kali hadn’t a chance to shred. Over the lingerie, I pulled on a pair of black jeans and a red cashmere sweater, followed by my black Elvin-made boots. Adam would be here soon and I couldn’t wait to see him.

  It was a beautiful snowy Tuesday afternoon, two days after the incident, and Adam and I were going out to admire the holiday decorations and enjoy some hot chocolate.

  Preparing for Adam improved my mood considerably. This morning I’d woken terrified, shivering, my head filled with more images that were like hollow specters, no substance at all.

  I’d felt some relief that I didn’t cause another hurricane in my bedroom. It had taken me all day Sunday just to clean up the mess since my maid, a Shifter named Dahlia, was off for the weekend.

  New lamps were parked on the nightstands on either side of my bed, the lamps carved wood and painted white to match my blue and white bedroom. Far more sturdy than glass. I’d slipped the photograph of Adam and me into a new white latticed wood frame and put it next to the lamp on the side of the bed where I slept.

  Not a lot had had survived the storm so my room was pretty bare. Paintings had to be reframed, the vanity chair leg fixed, and the glass in my vanity mirror replaced.

  Could have been worse. My entire apartment could have suffered rather than just my bedroom.

  I glanced in the mirror and figured I looked all right. After I pulled my hair back and knotted it, I grabbed one of my red Dolce & Gabbana purses out of the closet and picked out a black leather Burberry jacket.

  A familiar knock at my door made me smile and I walked out of my bedroom and went to open it.

  When I reached the door, I hesitated only a moment as I thought about the Metamorph who had briefly fooled me into thinking he was Adam and whom I had kissed. The memory made me shudder. I shook off the creepy feeling and opened the door.

  Any other thought vanished when I saw Adam standing before me, one hand braced on the doorframe. He wore his brown leather bomber jacket, opened just enough for me to see a forest green T-shirt that hugged his quarterback build and was tucked into a pair of faded blue jeans.

  The corner of his mouth turned up in an adorable smile and his brown eyes glittered. His brown hair looked even more tousled than usual and I caught his leather and coffee scent from where I stood.

  Adam grasped me around my waist and swung me into the apartment. “Hey, honey.”

  “Hey, you.” I dropped my purse and jacket. I wrapped my arms around his neck and laughed as he whirled me around.

  The door shut behind us, leaving us in the total and complete privacy of my apartment.

  Adam’s mouth was warm on mine and I sighed as he kissed me. Flashes came to me of my big comfy bed and Adam in it with me, but I wanted to spend time outside with him while it was still daylight. Before I shifted.

  I slipped my fingers into his silky hair and he groaned as he pressed me flush against him. It was really, really hard not to imagine taking him into my bedroom and having my way with him.

  A giggle escaped me just as he raised his head and I bit my lip to stifle another girlie laugh. I had never giggled before dating and falling in love with Detective Adam Boyd.

  I was a Drow warrior, a Tracker, a PI.

  Drow warriors, Trackers, and PI’s don’t giggle.

  Well, Drow warriors definitely don’t.

  Except for me when I was with Adam.

  I felt young and silly, like I was in my tween years again, having a crush on one of my father’s younger warriors. Even then I hadn’t giggled, though. A couple of times I’d been a little dopey over a warrior but I couldn’t show it.

  In a male-dominated society, where females are subservient to males, I had to fight to be respected as a warrior. Unfortunately I never saw that respect because any warrior I’d bested was humiliated at being beaten by a female.

  So much for young love. It wasn’t until I came to New York City that I’d had my first relationship and I’d fallen for a human. It ended in disaster when I finally let Stan see the Drow half of my heritage.

  Stan had broken my heart with all of the horrible things he’d said. The injury was doubled when my mentor, Rodán, had to wipe memories of me from my boyfriend’s mind. I would always remember Stan … but after Rodán took care of him, it was as if I’d never existed to him and we never had a relationship. All I was left with was the pain.

  “Nyx.” Adam grasped my shoulder and brought me fully back to him from the flashes of memory I’d just had. “You checked out on me.”

  I snuggled against him and drew in a deep breath of his masculine scent. “Was just thinking about how much I love you.”

  “Good.” His lips were firm as he kissed the top of my head. “’Cause that’s just what I was thinking, too.”

  I tipped my head back and smiled before he kissed me again.

  He gave me his boyish grin as he glanced at the bedroom, then winked at me as he took my hand. “You ready to go?”

  For a moment I wondered if he meant my bedroom, then realized he was teasing me. He released me to scoop up my jacket, then helped me into it before he grabbed my purse and handed it to me.

  We held hands as we walked down the stairs. Mrs. Taylor’s rat of a Chihuahua, Terror, yapped at us as we passed the open door of the apartment below mine.

  Mrs. Taylor stood just inside her doorway. Her face was heavily lined and I was afraid if she ever tried to smile her face would crack.

  I gave the grumpy-faced woman a smile. “Hi, Mrs. Taylor.”

  She slid one hand into a pocket of the apron that she wore over her powder blue granny dress, jerked her head in a short acknowledgment, and then she shut the door of her apartment, blocking out the outside world from her and Terror.

  After wading through the seven inches of newly fallen snow, Adam and I reached the street. By then we were laughing and Adam had a firm grip on my hand.

  Chill air stung my nose and cheeks. I glanced at Adam. “A little differen
t than Belize.”

  He grinned. “We can always go back.”

  “Mmmm.” I rested my head against his shoulder. “I’d love to. Next time we get a break, I say let’s do it.”

  He squeezed me to him and I sighed, a feeling of happiness welling up inside me.

  I took in the sparkle and glitter of the holidays in the city. “The decorations are beautiful.” My words came out in frost-laced puffs of air. “There’s nothing like this in Otherworld.”

  Adam looked down at me. “You don’t celebrate holidays where you come from?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Some races of Fae in their parts of Otherworld might, but Elves don’t. Especially Dark Elves … They’ve got that belowground thing going on.”

  “Hard to imagine that you come from anywhere other than here,” he said and I met his gaze. “You’re a city girl through and through.”

  I grinned. “Even when my hair is blue?”

  Adam laughed. “I guess then you belong to the night.” He squeezed me tighter. “But no matter what time of day, you belong to me.”

  I sighed again.

  “Ready for some hot chocolate?” he said and I nodded.

  When we reached Broadway and neared the closest Starbucks, the strong smell of dark roast hit me even before the door to the coffee shop opened.

  As usual, the place was jammed. Some human-looking paranorms, but mostly norms. “Excuse me,” we said to at least fifteen people as we made our way to the end of the order line.

  Still holding Adam’s hand, I dodged one woman in time to slam into a man’s chest. The man’s body wasn’t hard or soft, just in between, about average.

  “Sorry,” I said as Adam steadied me by my shoulders and I looked at the person I’d almost run down.

  In a quick glance I saw that the male was balding, probably late forties, and someone needed to teach him how to dress. Plaid wool pants would get someone killed on the streets of this city.

  But the moment I met the man’s gaze I froze. He was staring back at me.

  A horrible feeling, like worms wiggling across my flesh, caused goose bumps to rise on my arms.

  My heart thudded against my ribs. I stumbled back and stepped on someone’s foot.

  Sounds of coffee cups hitting the table and floor, and liquid splashing. My chest hurt as I tried to breathe. I glanced behind me, unconcerned about the spilled coffee, and focused on finding a path through the crowd.

  Immediately I looked back at the man.

  He was gone.

  As if I had imagined him.

  The thump of my heart was strong when I held my free hand to my chest as I looked around to see if the man was still in the coffee shop. I’d had that creeped-out feeling before. And it had been recent.

  “Watch where you’re stepping,” a man was saying behind me but I couldn’t move.

  “She doesn’t even have the courtesy to apologize,” a woman said.

  I barely heard them over the rush of blood in my ears. When I shook my head it didn’t clear away the web of my racing thoughts. Why those eyes had bothered me so much, I didn’t know.

  “Nyx.” Adam’s voice, close to my ear. “What’s wrong?”

  My words stuck in my throat and my insides shuddered. “I think I just saw a Vampire.”

  FOUR

  Wednesday, December 22

  Trying my best to not think of Vampires, I unlocked the door to my and Olivia’s PI office.

  I brought my fingers to the collar that circled my neck. It couldn’t have been a Vampire that I’d seen in Starbucks last night. I hadn’t caught the familiar dirt and must smell that most Vampires have, and as far as I knew, they didn’t drink lattes. Blood was their stimulant, not caffeine.

  If not a Vampire, then what?

  Adam had done his best to reassure me that the Vampire mess that had almost destroyed our city was history. Problem was that I was so sure I’d glimpsed Volod one night during our trip to Belize. That glimpse was enough to keep me unsettled at the mere mention of the V-word.

  Not going to think of Vampires, I told myself and gritted my teeth. After what Volod had done to me …

  Enough.

  I shoved the door open. Fae bells tinkled above the glass that had our agency logo and our names in purple and sapphire—courtesy of a chocolate-loving Pixie named Nancy.

  NYX CIAR

  Olivia DeSantos

  PARANORMAL CRIMES

  PRIVATE INVESTIGATORS

  By appointment only

  The office was empty of norms or paranorms when I walked in, save for Kali. She was perched beside the office inbox on the Dryad-wood credenza and her brilliant gold eyes studied me as she licked one paw.

  “Good morning, Your Highness,” I said to the blue Persian as I set down my purse beside the inbox and removed my black blazer. I wore a cobalt blue silk blouse with a mandarin collar, black slacks, and one of my favorite pairs of designer heels in cobalt blue.

  I started to flip through the mail. “Anything interesting come in?”

  Kali said nothing. I didn’t expect her to. Not that she talked, although sometimes I wondered if she could and I just didn’t know. It wouldn’t have surprised me if Rodán—my mentor and former lover—had gifted me with a magic cat.

  Kali did manage to travel secretly from my upstairs apartment all the way to the ground-level PI office. I still hadn’t figured out how in the Otherworlds she managed to do it, but I’d tried.

  The cat gave me a haughty look before jumping off of the credenza and onto the tile floor with amazing feline grace. She turned her back on me and her tail twitched back and forth as she started toward the break room.

  Uh-oh.

  In order to save my panty drawer from her, I did my best to stay on Kali’s good side. That cat had one bizarre panty fetish for shredding them. Trying to stay on her good side didn’t help much, said my stack of Victoria’s Secret receipts.

  I’d made a mistake naming her after Shiva’s fierce and destructive Hindu wife. Kali lived up to her name and then some.

  With a sigh I went back to sorting through the mail. Paranorms, like norms, didn’t communicate a whole lot via snail mail. In my office we normally received nothing more than the junk flyers our Werewolf mailman brought us.

  Our main modes of communication were email, phone, and video conferencing. Sure, I came from the world of the Dark Elves, a world that remained in the Dark Ages, but in my office in Manhattan we were a little more high-tech.

  Which wasn’t much but it was better than parchment and a quill.

  Boring. The flyers were specials on Were nail trimming and tooth sharpening, Shifter maid services, Faerie-made warding bells, Witch garden care, Fae grocers, Sorcerer litigation services—Goldbug & Oz … The usual.

  “Junk, junk, junk.” I threw each flyer into the wastebasket that was parked next to the credenza. I stopped when I reached a Nymph lingerie sale flyer, then decided to toss it, too.

  Fae bells tinkled and I looked over my shoulder to see Olivia pushing open the door. She looked pissed, her brows angled inward and a scowl on her face, her dark eyes flashing.

  “Um, hello?” I dropped the rest of the flyers into the wastebasket and straightened.

  Olivia put her hand up in a “stop” motion, as if she was still an NYPD police officer directing traffic, before she was on the SWAT team. “Not in the mood, purple wonder.”

  It was rare for Olivia to come in looking like she was going to take the Sig Sauer out of her side holster and start shooting first and asking questions later.

  I leaned my hip against the credenza and folded my arms across my chest. “What happened?”

  Olivia shrugged out of the New York Mets jacket she wore during the cold months and tossed it onto her desk. The neon green sticky notes on her desktop fluttered and a large stack of case folders teetered, threatening to slide onto the floor.

  She blew out a breath and faced me. “Got a freaking speeding ticket from that wiener of a cop, Freeman
.”

  I winced. That was enough to ruin Olivia’s mood for the day.

  Then I noticed her T-shirt.

  YOU’RE A REALLY GOOD FRIEND

  BUT IF THE ZOMBIES COME

  I’M TRIPPING YOU

  I didn’t laugh. If it had said anything but Zombies—except maybe Vampires—I would have at least grinned. I didn’t know why, but just the mere mention of Zombies made my insides feel like someone had gutted me with a Drow-forged blade and twisted the dagger just to hear me scream.

  “That sucks.” My words teetered on the verge of trembling as I grabbed my purse off of the credenza and headed toward my desk, my heels clicking on the ceramic tile. “Traffic school?”

  “I already took a class after the last ticket Freeman gave me. This one will give me points.” Olivia made a low sound in her throat. “Any other cop in this city would let me go—”

  “And has,” I put in as I rounded my desk, then slid into my leather office chair.

  “—but not that jerk,” she finished saying with an even darker expression. Somehow she still managed to look beautiful, even when ticked off.

  If five-foot-two non-Twiggy-esque women with melon-sized breasts could be supermodels, Olivia would have knocked the modeling world on its collective butt. With her Kenyan and Puerto Rican ancestry, her flawless brown silk skin, rich dark hair, and beautiful dark brown eyes, she was gorgeous.

  But Olivia had to be the most down-to-earth human I knew. Despite her hefty salary as a PI and Tracker, she stuck to driving an old GTO and shopped at Target and Wal-Mart for T-shirts with funny sayings, and blue jeans. She also had an extensive collection of colorful Keds sneakers.

  “Ready to head off to Rita’s for Christmas?” I asked as I placed my purse in a cubby beneath my desk out of Kali’s reach.

  “Sure.” Olivia’s purple Keds squeaked on the tile before she reached her own chair behind her desk and plopped into it. “I always look forward to large family events where my parents shout at each other over the dinner table and ultimately one of them ends up wearing the dessert.”