The Night Beat, From the Necropolis Enforcement Files

by Gini Koch

  “Right. And if they were, they’d be more worried about getting some SPF one thousand to avoid being dusted than dusting someone else. Angels can do it, but it’s complicated for them and normally angelic dusting is reserved for a major minion. While we have angels here, they’re kind of busy. Which leaves werewolves. For us it’s even grosser than for vamps. And after my freefalling experience, I’m not hungry at all.”

  This floated heavily on the air. The three of them looked a little green, though Jack also looked far too interested. I didn’t really relish the idea of him watching me chow down in this way, but I wasn’t in a position to ask him to look away.

  “What’ll we do while you do…whatever it is you’re going to do?” Sexy Cindy asked finally.

  “Back me, keep any of the deaders from getting away, help the angels if they need it.” I tried not to gag thinking about what might be coming. “Find me some seriously strong alcohol to wash my mouth out with. That sort of thing.”

  I heard quiet gagging from the others. They had no idea. A werewolf in full devour was terrifying as well as gross, and I’d have to work fast because there were a lot of deaders and only one me.

  I managed to control myself from praying. Clearly the gods, Yahweh included, were already paying a lot of attention to what was going on, so if they were going to show up with an assist, it wasn’t going to be to prevent my having to chow down on a bunch of icky dead bodies on the hoof.

  The earth over one grave heaved and I almost reconsidered that prayer. Jerry the Junkie’s body exited the earth, looking just as lovely as before. It figured that he’d rise first -- he wanted to help the Prince’s side, after all.

  Jerry lumbered towards the angels. Deaders don’t move too well, as a rule. Worse than zombies or mummies, though a tad faster than Golem. Then again, almost everything was faster than Golem. Slow, ponderous and steady won the Golem race, that was their unlife motto.

  I took a deep breath. Tossed in a howl for good measure. Hey, I had an audience. Then, I charged.

  Chapter 42

  Jerry made eye contact with me as I barreled towards him. “Here girl.” He grinned like he was the first one to toss out that knee-slapper. “Wanna fetch my stick?”

  Did the fast thinking thing. There was something wrong about all of this. Not that this was some sort of brilliant revelation. Three top level minions on the human plane hardly spelled out “all’s right with the worlds”. But Jerry looked too happy about the situation. And he’d had dusting explained to him.

  I decided to go with my gut. I didn’t bite him. I hit him with all four paws, claws out for full effect. One thing I’d neglected to mention to the others was that deaders could actually feel. So could undeads, of course. But we were unalive, so that made sense. I hoped the others wouldn’t catch on, though Jerry shrieking when I raked his body up, down and sideways might have been a clue.

  Jerry was flat on his back and I was off him, doing the impressive turn and skid maneuver. He flailed to his feet, looking much worse for wear. “What the hell are you doing?” he yelled.

  “Having fun.” I ran behind him, knocked him onto his face, and did the claw you up thing on his back. Then I jumped up and down. “What’s going on, Jerry?”

  “Aaah! Get off me!”

  “Not an answer, Jerry. You’re too happy about being raised and potentially dusted. What’s the plan, Jerry?” Jump, claw, jump. I started to enjoy myself.

  “Stop! Stop!”

  Happily, Jack was a great cop. He trotted over. “Jerry, you know, she’s in a bad mood,” he said soothingly, working the good cop routine to the max. “Vic, please, the poor guy’s just been raised. Again.”

  I jumped higher and slammed harder. “Pity for him. I want to know what’s going on.” I landed, clawed some more, then flipped him over, so I could jump on his stomach. “You know what, Jerry?” Jump, claw, jump. “If I don’t actually eat you, you don’t dust.” Jump, claw, scratch face, jump. “You just get to be turned into scraps.” Jump, rake claws down arms, jump. “So, what’s going on?” Jump, jump, jump. Playing bad cop was so much fun, I almost forgot there were bigger issues at hand.

  “Help me!” Jerry shouted to Jack.

  Jack shrugged. “She’s in that feral thing werewolves get. Where only mayhem will appease them. Or answers.”

  I sang quietly under my breath. “Jump up, turn around, claw a bit of deader. Jump up, turn around, scratch him on his face. Jump up, turn around, claw more of the deader. Jump up, jump around, bite him in that place.” It was an interactive song, at least how I was doing it. Except for the last line. I hoped Jerry was going to crack before I had to follow through on that.

  “Nice lyric change to Belafonte’s ‘Jump Down, Spin Around’ song.” Jack said. “Didn’t know you liked oldies.”

  “I like to improvise, I consider anything by Belafonte to be a classic, not an oldie, thank you, and besides, werewolves are very musically inclined.”

  “Really? Interesting.” Jack looked back at Jerry. “You want to answer the lady’s questions now?”

  Jerry whimpered. “They don’t want me to.”

  I sang louder. “Bite him in that place.” I even added a leer. I’d usually let Jack be bad cop, but not any more. He was not allowed to have all the fun.

  Jack coughed. “I think, Jerry, you need to consider who’s going to cause you more pain and anguish, in both the short and long term.”

  Fangs bared, drool dripping, I gave a big growl and looked down at Jerry’s very personal region. As a deader he really had no use for it, but males stayed attached to those parts, whether alive, undead, or in the ground. It was a guy thing, I didn’t try to understand it. I just used it to my advantage when necessary.

  “Okay! Okay! Call her off!”

  “Give her the answers, maybe she’ll stop.”

  “I don’t know all the plan!”

  “Share what you do know,” I growled through bared fangs. “Start with why you were hoping I’d try to eat you.”

  He didn’t want to answer, that was clear. I put a hind paw onto his personal parts and leaned. With all my weight and muscle. Jerry made a very animalistic sound. As a werewolf I’d heard it a lot -- a pathetic whine of pain and terror meant to make you feel sorry and stop.

  But werewolves didn’t feel sorry all that often, and never in a situation like this. And cops didn’t feel bad about roughing up a perp to get information to save hundreds or more. I let up a little, then slammed down, even harder.

  “Okay! Okay!” Jerry sounded like every other perp ready to crack, which was what I wanted. I let up a little, but the indication that I’d lean right back down again if necessary was clearly there in the way my claws were tapping. Yeah, werewolf claws are like digits, we can move them all we want. One of the many benefits.

  “So, tell me what I want to know.” Growled through the teeth with the extra drool, just ‘cause I could. “Why were you okay with getting dusted by me?”

  He gulped. “They…put something in my body. If you eat it, it’ll kill you.”

  “What, exactly?” Jack didn’t sound like good cop now. He sounded like angry boyfriend. I was good with that.

  “Not sure. Something…heavy. It feels heavy.”

  “Silver, silver nitrate, something with silver, maybe liquid mercury, some sort of metallic combo that’s deadly. Probably some unholy water, too.” I nudged Jerry. “Okay, so you just get to be torn to shreds. Check. What’s the plan? As much of it as you know, or else. Oh, and you may be a deader, but you’re giving off more scent than death and decay, probably because of what they put in you, so I can smell when you’re lying.”

  Jerry’s eyes widened and he looked terrified. Good. Because I couldn’t tell for sure from the smell, just a good guess. “I…I don’t know much.”

  I leaned on my hind leg again. “Oh, I’m sure you’re selling yourself short, Jerry.”

  “Tell us what we want to know,” Jack said quietly. “Or I’ll bring your parent
s to see you.”

  Interestingly enough, more than anything else, this worked. I saw the expression in Jerry’s eyes change. Not to fear, though, or regret. To amusement tinged with mania. “They’ll be here soon enough.”

  “Who’s after your parents?” Jack asked.

  “No one.” Jerry giggled. I really loathed this guy. It was a pity only a Golem would be able to dust him now -- none of us could ingest him and I was going to ensure he was in myriad pieces which, sadly, made it almost impossible for a spell to work.

  “Who’s already with them?”

  Jerry gaped at me. Apparently someone able to think still shocked him. “Ahhh….”

  I leaned on his private parts and sunk my claws in. Squishy and icky, but oh so effective. “Who’s with them, and who’s with the families and associates of the others who were in the alleyway when Abaddon and Apollyon came through?”

  “T-Tomio.”

  “But Tomio’s in Hell already, isn’t he, Jerry? I mean, that’s what you told us.”

  “I didn’t tell you anything!” His voice was raised and I didn’t get the impression he was talking to me.

  Instinct’s a wonderful thing. According to some, instinct was nothing more than the sum total of all your experiences -- everything that had ever happened to you, that you’d ever read, seen, heard, felt or thought -- bundled together in a tiny part of your hindbrain. Others said instincts were passed down species by species, to help said species survive, and that most instinctive reactions have no real basis in thought or even the experience of the specific reactor, just that if you were a gazelle and you saw a lion, you were going to run, period.

  My personal opinion was that both were true. I had instinctive reactions to things as a werewolf that I’d never have had as a human, and vice versa.

  One thing about instinct -- I never, ever argued with it. And my instincts told me that Jerry was about to be dusted, but not by my side.

  I leaped off him, grabbed Jack, and flung him and myself at Freddy and Sexy Cindy. Uninjured werewolves are strong and I threw the three of them as far as I could. I leaped after them, landed and turned, ready to go knock the angels out of the way.

  But there wasn’t time.

  Chapter 43

  Jerry exploded into dust. One moment I was staring at a ripped up junkie deader. The next there was a layer of rust-colored dust floating over his grave.

  On the plus side, the ground stopped moving. On the negative side, the dust swirled up from the ground. The angels flipped their collective wings out and around themselves. They were protected, but the four of us weren’t. Jerry’s dust could infect us, based on who was likely controlling it.

  I had to figure Abaddon and Apollyon were with Jerry’s parents and the others, meaning we were likely dealing with the Adversary. I had to get the others out of here. Well, no time like the present for the learning of new skills.

  “Cindy, grab Freddy and Jack and fly out of here.”

  “Excuse me?” She sounded like I’d asked her to grow another head.

  “You can fly. You haven’t been trained yet, but you can, it’s a succubus trait.” I watched the dust float around the angels. It wasn’t sticking to them, but we weren’t likely to be that lucky. “Grab them and fly away.”

  “I can’t.”

  I turned and did a full on werewolf growl-snarl-howl combination that said I was going to eat her and anyone else nearby. “DO IT!”

  Werewolves can be very scary, and I’d ensured that I’d looked and sounded as much like Queen Bitch as possible. Sexy Cindy gave a little shriek, grabbed the others, and leaped into the air away from me. Her flying left a lot to be desired -- she was about a foot off the ground, no more, and wobbling like it was her first time on rollerblades. However, she was carrying the other two and they were getting away, and that’s what mattered.

  I turned back to watch Jerry’s dust. It circled the angels, gave up, and headed towards me. Normally when someone got dusted they went into the earth or sea or wherever. It didn’t matter if their motes were floating around, they were rendered null and void. In this case, I knew better.

  That the dust was animated meant it was under the Adversary’s control. Due to what had been in Jerry’s body, the dust would be deadly to me. I couldn’t breathe or swallow it, and I had a good guess that letting it land on me wasn’t going to be all fun and frolic either.

  I readied myself to jump and dodge, but was interrupted by Freddy dropping down in front of me. “Come on, you dirty little bastard,” he shouted at the dust. “Pathetic mamma’s boy can’t even die right!”

  Apparently the dust still had some of Jerry in it, because it veered right towards Freddy. Before I could react he opened his mouth and the dust flew into him, every single mote. Then he pulled a flask out of his hip pocket, took a long drink, and burped.

  He turned around, grinning, and winked at me. “A little dry.”

  “What did you do? We have to get you to medical right away.”

  He took another swig and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “Nope. Little zombie trick H.P. and Edgar filled me in on. Zombies can’t do the dusting, but we can indeed do the clean up.”

  “Huh?” I had nothing better to offer. Two hundred years plus undead and this was a new one to me. Sexy Cindy and Jack landed, to use the term loosely. After they picked themselves up from the ground, I tried again. “What are you talking about?”

  “Only matters in times like these, when you have an infected deader. I hadn’t understood what the others were talking about the other day, but once I saw what was happening, it became clear. Zombies are able to ingest carrier dust because we can ingest pretty much anything, other than certain kinds of salt, with no problem. Then we neutralize it with holy water.” He waved the flask.

  “What the hell is carrier dust?” Jack asked. I was glad he did, since I didn’t have any idea. But I had a good guess.

  “Jerry had something deadly to Victoria in him,” Freddy explained. “Meaning his dust was deadly to her. So, he’s infected, or a carrier of disease.” He chuckled. “And I’m the vaccine.” I was a good guesser. I was also happy I looked forward to learning new things daily, because this was a doozy. I wondered what else I didn’t know, even after all this time.

  “Thank the Gods and Monsters.” Jack shrugged at my look. “Hey, not like you own the saying.”

  I shook my head. “True. Freddy, you sure you’re okay?”

  “Feel fine. If I start to feel evil, I’ll let you know.” He grinned again. “Nice to be useful to the team for once.”

  “You’ve been useful before.” I hugged him. “Thank you.”

  “Any time, Zombie Fred’s got your back.”

  We went to the angels, who had de-cloaked. “You guys okay?”

  They nodded. “What about you?” Cain asked. “You were the target.”

  “Yeah, she was.” Jack sounded angry. “Why didn’t you do anything to protect her?”

  I put my paw on his arm. “I’m sure Jerry had unholy water in him. That’s not exactly nectar to an angel. Besides, of the six of us, I’m more expendable than they are.” Jack started to argue but I put my paw up. “This is a war. We have military titles, remember? For a reason.”

  Jack still looked like he was going to argue, but my wrist-com went off. “Vic, it’s Ralph. Status?”

  “All fine here, I think. How’s the hospital gang?”

  “Well, I’m released. I’m the only one, though.”

  I resisted the urge to growl and curse. “How long for the others?”

  He heaved a sigh. “At best, at least a good part of the day. Clyde had more damage than he was showing. He needs full rewrapping. The Count has to have a complete transfusion. Hansel and Gretel had to be knocked out to get treated. Those four won’t be out until tonight, maybe tomorrow. You want me to go on?”

  “Not really, but I think I’d better know. Amanda, Maurice and Ken?”

  “Okay, but they all have to sleep
in their coffins.”

  “Oh, that’s not good.”

  “Why not?” Jack asked. “They’re vampires. Don’t they always sleep in coffins?”

  Ralph’s low growl came through my wrist-com. He was touchy about humans buying into all the negative undead myths. I answered quickly. “No, that’s a myth, in a sense. They need to sleep in their coffins, in some dirt from the ground where they died, only when they’re close to becoming dusted.” My throat felt tight. “Ralph, are the others just as bad?”

  “Yeah. The doctors told me they’d barely finished fixing up Black Angel Two and Martin when the rest of us hit the floor. They’re worried about them, by the way.”

  There was nothing for it. “Ralph, we’re at the cemetery. Get here as fast as you can.”

  “On it, W-W-One-Six-One-Two over and out!”

  “Why are you bringing him back?” Jack asked. “He’s recovering, too. And he drives you nuts.”

  “We need him. Most of our team’s down.” I looked at Martin. “How badly are the three of you still hurt?”

  “We were released from the hospital, Victoria,” Martin said reassuringly.

  “Uh huh. Ralph may indeed drive me crazy but I know when he’s trying to pass a message along. The hospital didn’t want to release you, did they?”

  Martin tried doing the shrug and twinkle thing, but I didn’t buy it. I looked at Black Angel One. “And what Ralph was really trying to share was that you two didn’t get treated at all.”

  Cain and Abel tried to look innocent, which, considering they were angels and all, they should’ve been able to do well. Only, angels have real issues in regard to lying -- one of the reasons they weren’t a talkative group -- it’s easier not to answer than to tell an untruth. Not that they couldn’t lie, it just took a lot of effort and most of them considered that skill not worth the work.

  “That’s why you couldn’t hold me and why neither one of you could catch me when I fell. You’re both hurt.” I looked at the graves. “It’s why the five of you were having so much trouble keeping them in the ground, and why Jerry got free.” I stared at the graves some more. “The Adversary knows he hurt you and he also knows you weren’t fully or even partly healed. Jerry got out and he was dusted before he could tell us too much. But…why did the Adversary stop trying to raise the deaders?”