The Ian Dex Supernatural Thriller Series: Books 1 - 4 (Las Vegas Paranormal Police Department Box Sets)

by John P. Logsdon

  I was about to flip on the radio but decided to keep the dialog going instead.

  “Meet with Dr. Vernon this week?” I asked.

  “Not yet.” She groaned. “Hate that part of the job.”

  “Me, too.” It was probably a mistake, but I decided to open up. If nothing else, it’d put the awkward apology phase behind us. “This time she told me that I was struggling with an inferiority complex or something.”

  Rachel started nodding. “Yeah, I can see that.”

  “What?” I glanced over to see that she was smiling mischievously. “Bitch.” She giggled some more. “Anyway, before we got down to me laying on the couch and all that, she started asking me about my weapon.”

  “The Admiral?” Rachel said with a sense of surprise.

  “Not that weapon,” I replied slowly, recalling Rachel’s pet name for my other weapon, and finding it quite interesting that after five years under the “no contact” rule, she remembered it too. “I’m talking about my gun.”

  “Ohhhh, right.” The awkward apology phase had morphed into the awkward mentioning-her-pet-name-for-my-junk moment. She cleared her throat. “Sorry. Go on.”

  It was difficult to keep my gaze on the road because I wanted to turn and seriously frown at her.

  I took a deep breath and jumped on to West Oakely. I’ve been in Vegas for most of my adult life, but it wasn’t like I stopped off at graveyards much, so whenever the GPS chimed I had to spin the wheel.

  “Anyway,” I continued while thinking the idea of sharing was getting dumber by the second, “I’d taken out Boomy, removed the mag, and set it on the table.”

  “Okay?”

  “Well, Dr. Vernon took one look at it and that’s when the inferiority stuff became her angle for the day.”

  “Ah, I see. You walked in, flopped your weapon on the table, she sees that its got more ridges and accents than your normal weapon, and she starts thinking that maybe you’re starting to feel that your normal weapon just isn’t good enough.”

  It was said deadpan.

  “Nice,” I said with a sigh. “Try to open up and this is what I get.”

  She laughed even louder. “That’s what she said.”

  “Oh, come on! You’re being—”

  “Ian?” Jasmine chimed in over the connector.

  I gave another sharp look at Rachel, who was still in giggle mode. “Yes, Jasmine?”

  “We’ve got bogies at Bunkers Eden Vale Memorial.”

  “Shit.” Time to get serious. I flipped the connector and read off the cemetery name so that the GPS could find the fastest route. “How many?”

  “Hard to say,” Jasmine answered, “but definitely more than a few.”

  “On our way,” I replied while making a u-turn. “Lydia, can you get the rest of the crew out to Bunkers Ed…”

  “Already informed everyone, sweetums,” she interrupted. “They’re all en route. And before you ask, Mr. Portman has also been notified. As per our previous discussion, I’ll wait for your ‘okay’ before I inform Ms. Rose.”

  “You’re the best, Lydia.”

  “You have no idea.”

  Rachel’s humor had changed over to disgust at that interchange, which I found terrific. Jealousy? Maybe. Annoyance that Lydia didn’t give her the same friendly treatment I got? Definitely.

  “Just out of curiosity,” Rachel said in a voice that spelled trouble, “have you told Dr. Vernon about how desperately you want to have sex with the force’s A.I.?”

  “Of course not,” I answered before realizing that I’d just admitted I wanted to bone Lydia.

  I glanced over to see Rachel grinning again. “Too easy.”

  Chapter 11

  The Bunkers Eden Vale Memorial cemetery sat directly across from the Palm Downtown cemetery. But from what I could tell, only Bunkers was having a “crawl out” extravaganza on graves.

  “Notice anything strange about this?” I asked Rachel as I slowed the car at the corner of North Las Vegas Boulevard and East Searles Avenue.

  “You mean besides the zombies walking around over there?”

  “Exactly,” I said while pointing to the opposite side of the road. “There are none walking over there.”

  She did a double-take. “Huh.”

  “I also didn’t see any back at Woodlawn, but that place is much larger than Bunkers so maybe they’re just well-hidden.”

  There were multiple cemeteries in this area, but it looked like only Bunkers was facing a corpse exodus. This was probably due to the old man having only so much time and power, but I wasn’t a pro when it came to his selected profession. Seeing that Rachel’s response was simply “huh,” I assumed she wasn’t highly versed in necromancy either.

  Jasmine and Felicia were still sitting in the Camaro when we pulled up. I saw no sign of the rest of the team, but seeing that we’d been the closest when the call came in that made sense.

  “They’re just milling around again?” I said through the window to Felicia. “Wonder what they’re waiting for?”

  “No idea, Chief,” Felicia answered. “Pretty damn freaky if you ask me, though.”

  “Yeah.”

  I pulled ahead of her and parked.

  Boomy was already loaded up with fresh rounds and I had multiple mags at the ready. Rachel had gone into a light trance, which meant she wasn’t planning to go in cold like she had back at King David’s. That was good.

  I didn’t want to get too close to the zombies until everyone got here, but I did want a better view of the area. Primarily, I was looking to spot our drunk old man again. A famous Who song about not getting fooled again sprang to mind.

  “Stay here,” I said to Rachel. “I’m going to scout the area for Shitfaced Fred.”

  She opened one eye. “Who?”

  “That’s what I’m calling our fake drunkard.”

  “Why?”

  I shrugged. “He looked like he was pretty wasted and I like the name Fred. Does it really matter?”

  “Right,” she replied, closing her eyes again. “Be careful.”

  I stepped out of the car and motioned Jasmine and Felicia to stay put. They didn’t like it, but I didn’t want to put them in jeopardy unless absolutely necessary. It wasn’t easy being the boss.

  While I couldn’t see the entirety of the graveyard, mostly due to the trees, it looked like there were fewer open graves than we'd faced before. It was also good that the area wasn’t immediately surrounded by housing. It’d be a long walk for any of these dead guys to slip into a house during late-night movie time.

  That begged the question why our necromancer was attacking in the outskirts. Was he just practicing for something bigger? I hoped not, but so far I had very little to go on.

  Speaking of Shitfaced Fred, I didn’t see him anywhere. Of course he could have been on top of one of the buildings, hiding in a tree, or completely gone. For all I knew, he might have even been masquerading as a tombstone.

  “Chief,” Felicia said through the connector, “Chuck and Warren just pulled up. Griff and Serena are going to hit the access street on the other side and close in that way.”

  “Good,” I whispered while continuing my study.

  Apparently my whisper didn’t go unnoticed. The air went still. The crunching of feet on grass and the moaning of reanimated corpses ceased.

  I’d been spotted and all eyes were on me.

  I gulped.

  A bloodcurdling scream ripped from the zombie closest to me. It was obviously a signal so that all his buddies could join him in ripping me to shreds, but it sounded like a naked wrestler learning what yarn feels like when a playful cat’s around.

  “Shit,” I yelled in return as I stuck a bullet between the creature’s eyes.

  It fell backward with a glorious thud, and then pushed itself right back up.

  “What the fuck?”

  I fired again. It got up again.

  “Chief,” Felicia called, “the zombies are on the move.”

&nb
sp; “Don’t I know it,” I replied while running at full-tilt back to the cars, unleashing Boomy at every head that came too close to me. But it wasn’t stopping them. “Shooting them in the head isn’t working.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me, Felicia. It’s not working. We need some magic on these guys or something.”

  “Aim for their hearts,” Jasmine suggested.

  “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  “Good point.”

  I turned my head and fired at the closest one. It dropped and didn’t move. So the necro had moved the kill point to the heart? Great. He was working out ways to make his little zombie army tougher to kill.

  “That worked,” I said, spinning my head back and running square into the chest of a rather large corpse.

  We both hit the ground as Boomy went flying. I really needed to invest in a tether for that damn gun.

  I was lying on top of the corpse, looking down into its lifeless eyes.

  It clearly wasn’t fond of this arrangement, because it made a very odd wheezing sound and threw me up in the air. For a dead guy, he was incredibly strong. I landed on a rock, which didn’t feel all that great, but this was no time for pain. Besides, I’d heal fast enough.

  I rolled up and spun to see something I really didn’t expect.

  The zombie who had just liberated me from his person was standing still, gurgling as the rest of the corpses came to a halt around him. The mass of dead stood a couple of paces back from the big guy, seemingly curious about how the scene would unfold. They were staring so intently it was like they had seats to the event of the century. Honestly, if there’d been a popcorn vendor walking around, he’d have made a killing.

  But that wasn’t what worried me most.

  What had me on edge was the fact that the zombie boss was holding Boomy and he was pointing it at my chest.

  Chapter 12

  Now you would think that my first reaction would have been to duck, dive out of the way, run like hell, or all of the above. But instead, I stood there with my arms up while thinking, “Do I know this guy?”

  I whispered “idiot” to myself on behalf of Rachel, since she wasn’t around to do it for me.

  “Now you die, vampire,” gurgled the zombie.

  “You can speak?” I said as my eyes fought against bursting from my head. Then I frowned at the realization of what he’d just said. “I’m not a vampire.”

  He paused and looked me over. In fact, the entire corpse crowd was looking me over, even those who only had eye sockets.

  Then he lowered the gun slightly and tilted his head. “You’re not?”

  “No, and I honestly don’t understand why everyone thinks I am.” I put my hands on my hips. “I’ve got nothing against vampires, but I’m not one of them, and your assumption that I am is not cool. How would you like it if I called you a living, breathing person because I wasn’t one hundred percent sure you were dead?”

  That was clearly the wrong thing to say because all of their faces creased sinisterly. As if they didn’t look scary enough already. How the hell was I to know that zombies weren’t all that fond of being reminded they were dead?

  The huge dead guy raised the gun up again and said, “Now, you die.”

  It was time to let gravity do its job. I fell straight down a split-second before he unleashed Boomy. I could survive a lot of things, but a 50-caliber hole in my chest wasn’t one of them.

  A wave of light smashed into his side before he could adjust his aim and try again. It knocked him over, causing Boomy to fly from his hands. Maybe not having a tether was a good thing, after all.

  The rest of the dead spun to see where the source of the magic originated. It was Rachel and Jasmine, and they were on a tear.

  Fireballs, lightning, ice, and all other sorts of mayhem flew from their fingers as Chuck and Felicia started plugging hearts with lead. Warren was nowhere to be seen, which either meant he’d stayed in the car or he was finding a safe place to cast a lengthy spell. I could definitely do with one of his void walls about now. Whether it would work on zombies or not, I couldn’t say, but there’d be some catharsis in trying.

  “Are you hit, Chief?” asked Felicia.

  “I’m good,” I replied while snapping up Boomy.

  There was zombie juice all over it.

  “What the…” I held it up. It dripped. “Son of a bitch.”

  Now I was pissed.

  It was one thing to try and break me in half, or bite a hole in my neck, or throw me off a building, or run me over with a car, or even mistake me for a vampire. But shooting at me with my own gun while getting zombie juice all over it was just fucking wrong.

  I went ballistic, firing Boomy off like it was our first date.

  As an amalgamite, I was already fast, but when you pumped adrenaline into the mix, I was insanely speedy. No, I couldn’t keep up with the likes of Turbo, but I wasn’t far off.

  My vision was tight and my arm steady. Magazines slipped in and out like they were on a high-tech production line. Every bullet hit its intended target without fail. Bodies dropped so quickly that it looked like a group of robots who had just had their collective power cut.

  For every zombie my crew dropped, I took out three.

  “Damn, Chief,” Chuck said when it was all over, “maybe let us have a little fun too next time?”

  “Huh?” was all I could reply before I dropped to a knee, feeling quite out of it. This tended to happen whenever I got a little overzealous.

  Rachel rushed to my side and put her hand on my shoulder.

  I instantly calmed, my heart slowing back to normal. It wasn’t magic when she did that, it was familiarity. A sense of safety. The knowledge that my partner had my back.

  “Thanks,” I said before getting back up, my legs wobbly. “Are there more coming?”

  “Griff shut down the necro’s line,” said Chuck, which meant his partner had informed him of such through the connector. “He’s counting graves now.”

  I nodded. My strength and sense of self was steadying, but I’d still need a few minutes.

  “So now we have to shoot them in the heart,” I said finally.

  “Or hit them there with magic, yeah,” replied Jasmine. “It seems that fireballs were more effective than energy bursts. At least for killing them.” She paused. “It sounds so weird that we’re having to ‘kill’ dead people.”

  Rachel looked at her. “I noticed the fireball thing, too, but over at King David’s I recall energy blasts working better.”

  In response to that point, I subconsciously rubbed my neck where Rachel had taken a chunk out of me. Fortunately, she didn’t look my way.

  “I don’t suppose anyone caught sight of Shitfaced Fred?”

  Everyone looked at me, except Rachel.

  “That’s the nickname he’s given to the necro,” she explained. Then she held up a hand. “Before you ask, it’s because the old guy was pretending to be drunk and Ian likes the name Fred.”

  They all shook their heads at me.

  “I saw him,” Warren said weakly through the connector. “Well, kind of.”

  “Where?” I asked, my senses returning.

  His voice was shaky. “Near the cars.”

  We rushed back to find our resident wizard lying on the ground studying the stars. Was the necro up in the air? There weren’t any trees about, so he couldn’t have been on a branch or anything.

  I followed Warren’s line of vision to see if there was something specific he was looking at. “What are you doing?”

  “Recovering from the knock to the head I received about twenty seconds after Chuck left the area,” Warren whispered in response.

  “Oh, damn.” Chuck said, dropping down to help him. “Are you bleeding?”

  “Probably.”

  Griff and Serena arrived a few seconds later and Serena moved to put her hands on Warren. With a smokin’ hot vampire around to touch you when you needed healing, having a head inju
ry wasn’t so horrible.

  “Unbelievable,” Rachel said, obviously reading what was going through my brain.

  “What?” I replied innocently.

  “You’re such a perv.”

  I blinked at her. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  Chapter 13

  Griff’s grave count matched up with the zombies we’d taken out, but we scoured the area for additional clues since it was obvious that our necromancer wasn’t planning to go away anytime soon.

  Portman and his crew already looked haggard from their work earlier that night, so they weren’t exactly chipper about another round of burials.

  “Any idea who the hell’s doing this, Dex?” the big man asked as he wiped the dirt from his hands. He wasn’t the type of boss who just stood around and watched. I respected that. “I’m not sure my team can handle another round of these without a sizable break.”

  “I hear you.” I was still a bit achy myself. “You know the deal, though. Until we catch the guy, we’re pretty much at his mercy.”

  “Yeah. Any leads?”

  “Everyone’s hunting for clues now. We know it’s an old guy. Small. Looks kind of like a hobo.”

  Portman sighed. “Right. Well, I’ll let you get back to it. We’ve still got a couple hours at best.”

  I nodded and walked off to where Griff and Serena were studying the grounds. They’d apparently found the spot where Fred was working from. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but I guessed there was magical residue Griff was picking up. He was busily casting spells over the area and Serena was analyzing the results.

  Warren was sitting with his back against the car. He seemed to be working up some type of mojo, too.

  “I see what they’re doing,” I said to Warren while pointing at Griff and Serena, “but what are you cooking up?”

  “Tracking.”

  “That’s a little too detailed for me, Warren,” I said with a healthy dose of sarcasm. “How about you dumb it down a little?”