Zombies Sold Separately

by Cheyenne McCray

  The Persian slipped into the kitchen. Her head was tilted at a regal angle. She gave me the briefest glance with her haughty gold eyes before she began to take dainty bites out of her warm dinner.

  I rolled my eyes. Why couldn’t Rodán have given me a puppy? Something adorable like Fred was in his Doppler form as a golden retriever. Except a real dog. Not any kind of Shifter dog, of course.

  As I started to walk out of the kitchen I looked over my shoulder and saw Kali had paused and was staring at me with those wicked eyes. At that moment I could almost imagine Kali as a Shifter who had infiltrated my home. Maybe she was. How else could she reach a lingerie drawer three feet up and destroy its contents. A cat with a panty destruction fetish … Go figure.

  A strange feeling tickled my spine and I looked away from her and headed into my living room.

  If Rodán had given me a Doppler or Shifter instead of an ordinary housecat I’d have had to kill him. Not that he would do anything like that. Besides, no one could give a Doppler or Shifter. That was equivalent to selling one human to another. It was an absolutely absurd thought.

  Shifters did make great spies for hire in the human world. It was easy to fool norms.

  On the other hand it was very difficult to fool most paranorms. Vampires and Witches, and any other human-born individual with paranormal talents, were the exception. They didn’t have the same kind of sixth sense that allows the rest of us to recognize another paranorm the moment we’re in the same vicinity. Para-radar. Sort of.

  I shook off all of my crazy thoughts. It seemed that since I came so close to death with the Vampires that I’d been pinging all over the place, one thought bouncing against another.

  My skin began to tingle. The sun was about to set. Even when the New York City sky is shadowed with winter, I don’t shift until the sun actually sinks below the invisible horizon.

  The wood flooring was cool beneath my bare feet as I walked toward my bedroom and began to strip off my clothing. The tingling sensations grew stronger and by the time I was in my panties and bra I felt the shift begin.

  I tossed my clothing onto the bed, then leaned forward, stretching my body into the change. My body felt strong and lean, and filled with power.

  When I shift, my movements are slow and sensual. Like a cat I’m graceful and sinuous as I ease into one stretch after another. Dark Elves and Light Elves are inherently sensual beings and I’m no exception.

  As I moved, my black hair rippled into luxurious cobalt blue, black highlights shimmering in the soft glow from my new bedside lamps. My softer and more sensitive skin tone turned the faintest shade of amethyst marble as my body tingled with the change.

  I raised my hands over my head and reached high before slowly lowering them as my muscles shifted and my arms and legs became more sculpted, stronger, more powerful.

  When my heels touched the floor again, I pushed my hair away from my face and brushed the now pointed tips of my ears. I ran my tongue along the points of my short incisors.

  The shift from human to Drow made me feel complete as I left one world and entered another.

  * * *

  Once I was ready, I headed out the door of my apartment into the snowy night. Like I usually did each night, I intended to join the other Trackers at the Pit, the hottest paranorm club in the city. Probably the hottest anywhere.

  Most of our team of Trackers met at the Pit to relax before we left to track our assigned territories. Tonight we had a meeting, so all the Trackers would be there.

  Snowflakes landed softly on the top of my head, my nose, and my cheeks as I walked the few blocks to the Pit. Not only was it a fantastic nightclub, it was also the location where Peacekeepers met with Rodán, our Proctor. It was rare for Trackers, Soothsayers, Healers, and Gatekeepers to meet all at the same time. We met with him in groups as needed.

  The other Peacekeepers generally looked down on Trackers because we were a tough and gritty bunch. Not “refined” like most of the other Peacekeepers thought of themselves. They didn’t like to get their hands dirty, and that’s what we were all about.

  Trackers weren’t out to win any awards for social graces. We were too busy saving everyone’s butts. Not to mention we really didn’t give a damn what the other Peacekeepers thought of us.

  Snow swirled around me, but visibility was still good. I loved the winter season but sometimes snow hampered my elemental talents almost as much as mist did.

  When I was in my Drow form I had to pull a glamour so that humans wouldn’t see an amethyst-skinned, blue-haired woman walking down the street. Not to mention I needed to keep my weapons belt from view, where I’d sheathed my seventeen-inch-long, two-inch-wide Dragon-claw daggers—among other weapons.

  At Seventy-second Street, Lawan, a pretty Doppler who shifted into a Siamese cat in her animal form, stood in the dark shadows of the Dakota building. She was a bit away from the magically hidden entrance to the Pit which was snugged up against the Dakota—a famous building that happened to be “haunted” by Brownies.

  Lawan crossed her arms beneath her small breasts and her dark eyes had a distant look to them, as if she was seeing something across the street in Central Park.

  I looked over at the park, but couldn’t find anything interesting enough to keep my attention. The Monday night traffic along Central Park West was pretty low-key and the park itself looked mostly vacant save for naked trees rising from the snowy landscape along with holiday-decorated glowing lanterns and snow-dusted park benches.

  Instead of heading to the hidden entrance of the Pit, I walked up to Lawan, who was my friend as well as a fellow Night Tracker.

  Lawan gave a little shiver despite her high-necked black fighting suit that covered every part of her but her head. When she left to track, she pulled on a hood, leaving only her long-lashed dark eyes visible. She looked like a slender ninja in a body-hugging leather suit.

  Modesty was her motivation for clothing herself in a suit that didn’t reveal her flesh, but I could see how males found the way she looked intriguing, enticing.

  But she was oh-so-dangerous. The Taiwanese Krabi sheathed at her side and her martial arts skills made her a lethal weapon, a deadly beauty. I knew how to fight. How to kick ass. But Lawan made fighting look like a dance, an art form.

  I wasn’t surprised that she might be cold when she wasn’t in her Siamese cat form. Lawan came from Thailand and had only been in New York City for a couple of years. This was barely her second winter in the city.

  “Everything okay?” I asked as I came up beside her.

  “Yes.” Lawan didn’t look at me, just continued staring at the park. “I suppose so.”

  Her lips parted as if there was something else she wanted to say, so I stayed quiet. She turned her head and looked directly at me. She was petite, very petite, but even though I’m five-eight I didn’t feel like she was any smaller than me. Despite her quiet nature she was a powerful Tracker and had a strong presence.

  “It is just…” Lawan frowned, her pretty features more serious than I had ever noticed before. “I have had very strange feelings for the past two days. I feel—I feel as though I am being watched.”

  “Do you think you are?” Despite being Elvin I felt a strong chill and I didn’t think it was because my own fighting suit was far more revealing than Lawan’s.

  “Honestly…” She looked back at the park, her dark eyes serious, intent. “Yes.”

  “Right now?” I asked in a lower tone and she nodded.

  For a long moment neither of us said anything as we stared at the snowbound park, the light traffic, the occasional pedestrians who braved the freezing cold, and the small snow flurries softening the night.

  “Come on.” I touched her arm. “I’ll buy you a drink before the meeting.”

  I waited for her as she continued to stare at the park. Then she turned and we walked side by side to the entrance of the Pit.

  Fred, the Doppler bouncer who was a golden retriever in his animal form, g
reeted us as he always did. He was the kind of being who made a good friend. Devoted, trustworthy, friendly—an all-around good guy. He smiled and gave me a wink before he let us through the doors.

  The Pit was rocking and I almost groaned. I’d forgotten tonight was the annual talent competition. The place was packed like Brownies in a bucket of peanut butter.

  Brownies love peanut butter.

  I tolerate peanut butter and am not crazy about crowds.

  Lawan fell a few paces back as we pushed our way through the crush of beings. Laughter and applause had me pausing to raise myself on my toes and look over the heads of two paranorms blocking my view of the stage.

  Faerie juggling.

  A Sprite was juggling seven tiny Faeries at the same time while the crowd hooted, shouted, and laughed. The Faeries had each tucked themselves into a little ball about the size of an orange. Faeries dress in bright hues which made for a brilliant show of yellow, red, blue, green, pink, orange, and purple. As they spun Faerie dust puffed out and sparkled in the air.

  Lawan came up to stand beside me and despite the chaotic noise in the Pit, I heard her sweet laughter.

  As a rule, Sprites have always been considered some of the lesser Fae and I had never liked them—until I met Negel, a Sprite who’d died just weeks ago to save my life from the Vampires who had been determined to kill me.

  Through Negel I learned that Sprites are good beings, deserving of our respect and concern. The relatively few Sprites who are malicious, destructive, and mean give the whole race an undeserved reputation.

  They are ugly, though. Really, really ugly. This adds to the way other paranorms view them and for the most part shun them.

  To my surprise, I learned that Sprites are a peaceable race of beings with kind hearts who stay hidden as much as possible from other beings, keeping to themselves. Throughout the centuries they have chosen to ignore the reputation given to them by the few Sprites who wreak havoc.

  Negel’s bravery and kind spirit changed not only my view of Sprites, but the view of many other paranorms, to the point that they were allowed entry into the Pit. It would take a lot more than that to erase centuries of racism against Sprites, though.

  The Sprite on stage was no exception to the ugly rule with his tuft of matted blond hair, floppy ears, and bulbous eyes. He also looked familiar. I wasn’t sure, but he could have been one of the Sprites we tracked down when a team of them gave the Statue of Liberty a neon pink pedicure.

  From out of nowhere the Sprite juggler produced a large black top hat, held it up and caught all seven Faeries one at a time as they came down. Poofs of Faerie dust floated out of the hat like a sparkling rainbow.

  Cheering from the crowd rocked the Pit and the Sprite took a bow. His jagged teeth flashed as he gave what I think was his attempt at a smile. The seven tiny Faeries peeked out of the top hat and waved at the audience before the Sprite went offstage and disappeared behind the curtains.

  When the crowd quieted, Adele, the Pixie vocalist from the band Sweet Cat, came out from behind the curtain. Adele was an amazing singer and she knew she was good, which made her less palatable as far as I was concerned. But she was popular and their band was considered one of the best rock paranorm bands around.

  “Straight from Otherworld, Colin of Campton is going to light fire to your world,” Adele said in a sexy, sensual voice. “And all of you females … I found him first.”

  A male walked out from behind the curtain and the females in the place went wild with shouts and applause.

  I have never been one to act like an idiot over a performer, but for a moment I had to fight to keep from doing just that.

  Lawan started crying out, “Colin! Colin!” from beside me, something I would never have thought she’d do.

  I wanted to look away from the male taking center stage, but my gaze was riveted to him. I was mesmerized.

  With his long glittering gold hair and burnished gold eyes, Colin of Campton had to have been one of the most gorgeous males I’d ever seen. Ever.

  Thoughts of Rodán—who I’d always thought of as being the most incredible male specimen ever—kept flashing in my mind.

  Those thoughts were pushed aside as my lips parted and I looked at Colin. I stared at his naked chest and imagined running my fingers along his golden skin, his broad shoulders, his well-defined chest and abs. His red leather pants hugged his trim waist and muscular thighs so well that I held my hand to my chest to hold back a sigh.

  A part of me knew something wasn’t right even as I found myself wanting to go to the stage, climb up on it, and take Colin of Campton down to the floor.

  I shook my head to get the images out.

  What was wrong with me?

  What was wrong with Lawan?

  Beside me, Lawan kept screaming and jumping up and down. She was so petite I didn’t even know if she could see the stage, but she was going crazy. That was so not her.

  The instant Colin raised a burning torch to his lips, then swallowed the fire, I snapped back to reality. I had caught Colin’s scent.

  I shook my head to get the effects of his intoxicating but unwanted presence out of my mind.

  “Lawan.” I caught her by her upper arm and tried to keep her from jumping up and down and screaming more. “He’s a Dragon.”

  She ignored me. I shook her as Colin swallowed two burning torches at the same time.

  “That damn Dragon cast a spell on this entire room.” I shook my friend just enough to get her attention.

  She paused and looked at me with a dazed expression. “What?”

  “Dragon.” When she gave me a confused look, I added, “Dragons can take human form when they choose to.” I gestured toward the stage. “They’re also good at mesmerizing groups of paranorms or norms, which is exactly what he’s doing.”

  Lawan seemed to come back to herself. “How do you know?”

  “Can’t you scent him?” I asked. “A little bit of sulfur and sandalwood incense.”

  “Not all of us have noses like you do,” Lawan said as the glazed look went out of her eyes and she appeared almost mortified. “Did I just act like an idiot, Nyx?”

  “No more than anyone else.” I took her by her arm and tugged her toward the bar, which was close to the corner where the Trackers hung out. “We’ll ask Hector for an elderflower Tom Collins. That should counteract the Dragon-thrall.”

  Lawan still looked a little dazed at I took her by her arm and pushed and elbowed our way through the females in the crowd who were still going nuts. He had a pull on females similar to the effect Sirens have on males. Dragons could burn a being to its death, Sirens would sing a male to his demise.

  “Damn Dragons, anyway,” I muttered as we reached the bar.

  “One vodka martini coming up, Nyx,” Hector, the Shifter barman, said the moment he saw me. “What would you like, Lawan?”

  Hector was going for the Stoli when I held up my hand. “I’m changing things up tonight.” His expression shifted to surprise as he stopped in mid movement. “Elderflower Tom Collins,” I said and glanced at Lawan before I looked at him again. “Make it two. Heavy on the elderflower liqueur.”

  He raised his eyebrows and looked at the stage. “Dragon?”

  I nodded. “I hope you have a lot of liqueur in the back.”

  A low rumble came from his chest and I imagined him changing into his lion form. “His kind should not be allowed in the Pit.”

  “Obviously Rodán thinks otherwise.” I glanced over my shoulder to see Colin taking a bow. I caught my breath. Magnificent. He looked absolutely magni—

  Stop it.

  I shook my head and turned back to Hector. “You’ll probably want to bring out a couple of bottles of St. Germaine and give all of the females a shot glass of it.”

  “Rodán and I will have a chat.” Hector growled like the lion he preferred as his Shifter form as he started throwing together two of the elderflower Tom Collins drinks. Lemons, limoncello, vodka, soda water, and
of course the liqueur made up the drinks he handed to us.

  Hector was stomping into the room behind the bar just as Colin finished his act.

  Lawan took a sip of her drink. “It’s good. I’ve never heard of the flower you talked of.”

  “Elderflower.” I felt the intoxicating, mesmerized feeling ease away after my first swallow. “In this Earth Otherworld, for only a few days in late spring, the flower blooms in the Alps. They’re gathered very quickly because the blooms lose their potency within a couple of days.”

  In the time it took me to explain what elderflower liqueur was made from, Lawan had drained her glass. “How do you know all of this?” she asked as she set her glass on the bar.

  Hector jogged out of the back room, another growl rising from his throat as he started pouring shots of St. Germaine across the bar to counteract the Dragon-thrall.

  “The plants are common in Otherworld,” I told her as dazed women started stumbling toward us. I drew Lawan out of the way so we wouldn’t be trampled. “When a few Dragons started coming to this Otherworld centuries ago, Gnomes were hired and given the task of planting the flowers here. It took some time before they discovered that the only place the flowers will grow is in the Alps.”

  “I would prefer not to meet another Dragon,” Lawan said as a Mage-mime took the stage. Lawan touched the hilt of her Krabi. “I may have to kill him.”

  I grinned as we started to make our way to the corner where the Trackers lounged on large overstuffed black leather chairs and couches. It was rare to make Lawan mad, but I thought the Dragon male had just done a good job of it.

  As the Mage—dressed in black but with white gloves and his face painted white—performed his act as a mime, the crowd surged, forcing me to come to a stop. I couldn’t see Lawan anymore.

  Before I could try to make my way through, a hand grasped my upper arm.

  EIGHT

  I jerked my arm away from the grip and felt nails scratch my skin.

  My Tom Collins splashed onto my bare belly. At the same time my free hand automatically shot for the hilt of one of my Dragon-claw daggers. I whirled to see who had grabbed my arm.