Charlie Huston - Already Dead

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From Publishers Weekly
Starred Review. After two hard-boiled hits, Caught Stealing and Six Bad Things, Huston does an irresistible and fiendishly original take on the vampire myth. Manhattan is teeming with the undead, the island divided into often-warring vampire clans such as the Society, the Hood and the Enclave. The most powerful is the Coalition, whose goal is to protect its members from public scrutiny and persecution. Rogue PI Joe Pitt (aka Simon), who like all vampires is infected with a virus that requires him to drink blood regularly, is hired by Marilee Horde, a prominent New York socialite, to locate her runaway teenage daughter, Amanda, who may be slumming with homeless goth kids in the East Village. Meanwhile, a "carrier" is on the loose, infecting its victims with a bacterium that turns them into brain-eating zombies. The Coalition wants Pitt to find and destroy the carrier, since the carnage the zombies are causing brings unwanted attention to the undead community. Huston has fun playing with the conventions of the genre, creating his own hip update that will appeal to fans of Quentin Tarantino and Buffy the Vampire Slayer alike.
From Bookmarks Magazine
Already Dead is not for the squeamish. Even so, it surprised even critics who had never thought themselves fans of Count Dracula. Huston portrays a noirish, gritty, alter-Manhattan world, with political rivalries comprised of all sorts of vampires, even "revolutionary" gay and lesbian ones. The terse, hard-boiled prose and characters contain shades of Raymond Chandler, Hunter S. Thompson, and Quentin Tarantino, but are wholly original. Despite the novel’s sophistication, it’s not for everyone. "Huston deserves hardcover publication and will get it soon enough, but it’s probably true that this book’s core audience is among the young, the cool, the hip, and the unshockable" (Washington Post).
Those stories you hear? The ones about things that only come out at night? Things that feed on blood, feed on us? Got news for you: they're true. Only it's not like the movies or old man Stoker's storybook. It's worse. Especially if you happen to be one of them
Just ask Joe Pitt.
There's a shambler on the loose. Some fool who got himself infected with a flesh-eating bacteria is lurching around, trying to munch on folks' brains. Joe hates shamblers, but he's still the one who has to deal with them. That's just the kind of life he has. Except afterlife might be better word.
From the Battery to the Bronx, and from river to river, Manhattan is crawling with Vampyres. Joe is one of them, and he's not happy about it. Yeah, he gets to be stronger and faster than you, and he's tough as nails and hard to kill. But spending his nights trying to score a pint of blood to feed the Vyrus that's eating at him isn't his idea of a good time. And Joe doesn't make it any easier on himself. Going his own way, refusing to ally with the Clans that run the undead underside of Manhattan - it ain't easy. It's worse once he gets mixed up with the Coalition - the city's most powerful Clan - and finds himself searching for a poor little rich girl who's gone missing in Alphabet City.
Now the Coalition and the girl's high-society parents are breathing down his neck, anarchist Vampyres are pushing him around, and a crazy Vampyre cult is stalking him. No time to complain, though. Got to find that girl and kill that shambler before the whip comes down . . . and before the sun comes up.

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– He's awake.

They both turn to look at me sprawled on the cot. Tom takes a quick step in my direction, the piece of pipe still in his hand.

– OK, fucker.

Terry reaches out and lays a hand on Tom's shoulder.

– Easy, Tom, just mellow out a little, guy.

Tom stops and squeezes his eyes shut. He turns to Terry as if he'd like to wrap the pipe around his head instead of mine.

– How many times do I have to tell you? How many, man? Don't tell me to mellow out. You be as mellow as you want, but don't tell me what to do.

Terry smiles.

– Sure, Tom, no prob. I'm not trying to disrespect you. I just want us all to calm down a little here and find some things out before we think about resorting to violence. There are always options, man, we just need to explore them.

I sit up.

– Yeah, Tom, let's explore some options.

He turns back to me.

– You just shut up, Pitt. You want to stay alive, you just shut up until someone tells you to speak. You got practice shutting up, taking all those orders from the Coalition. I look at Terry.

– Hey, Terry, what are you doing letting this kid run around loose, anyway? People could get hurt.

I look at Tom again.

– He could get hurt.

Tom makes a move at me, but Terry and Lydia pull him back. I sit on the cot being bored. Some people's buttons are so easy to punch it's barely worth the effort. Terry and Lydia get Tom into a chair. Lydia stays next to him while Terry walks over and drops down on the cot, a big smile on his face.

– Tom's a hothead, Joe, we all know that, it only takes the slightest provocation to set him off. But we're adults here, so what say we put aside the immature mind games and name-calling and just have a little communication, air things out?

– How 'bout you buzz off and show me to the door so I can go about my business.

Terry shakes his head sadly.

– In a perfect world, that's what I'd like to do. After all, it was never my plan that you get dragged here, but here you are, and I have to say that as hostile as Tom is toward you, he does raise some valid points. So I think, and this is just me talking, but I think there is a real need here for some open and honest communication.

I start to get up.

– So sit here and communicate, Terry Me, I got places to be, so I'll just be on my way.

Terry puts an oh so gentle hand on my forearm.

– Sorry, Joe, but there really are some questions I need to have answered.

He tilts his head in the direction of the stairs and Hurley steps out of the shadows. How the fuck I missed Hurley is a tribute to my lack of awareness. The guy is a giant. Really. Six eight and over three-fifty. And on top of that he just happens to be one of us. So what you got here is your basic gargantuan Irish Vampyre. Oh, and he's retarded. I shouldn't say that. What I mean is he's dumb as a sack of hammers. Whether he's actually retarded, I don't know.

I sit back down.

– Sure thing, Terry. You got questions. Shoot.

Terry smiles and nods.

– See, man, that's the way it should be, just two guys sitting and talking. People, people talking about their problems with each other, finding solutions. If everybody could do this, if we could get the world together like this, we could change everything, man. Like, for instance, my problem is this thing last night, this whole hassle over at the, well it used to be a community center, man, but pretty soon it's gonna be another yuppie co-op. But anyway, this thing over at the old center, this hassle with the kids and the zombies.

Tom jumps out of his chair.

– That's what I'm talking about, that right there. We rejected that term, man. We voted. They're not zombies. That belittles their status as victims, man. They're infected, not in control of themselves, and creeps like this stooge are still going around slaughtering them.

Terry bobs his head.

– Well, you have a point there, Tom, the term zombie does put the onus for their actions on them and implies blame. So what was the term?

– VOZ. Victim of Zombification.

Lydia finally pipes in.

– I'm still opposed to the use of the word victim. It suggests weakness, helplessness.

Terry holds up his hand.

– I think you may be right there, Lydia. But for now, as regards the conversation I'm having here with Joe, could we agree that VOZ is a valid term?

Tom and Lydia look at one another and nod.

– Good, good. See, Joe, people solving problems. So anyway, this hassle with the NYU students and the VOZs. Something like that happening right in our backyard is cause for concern. We can't really afford that kind of noise when we're trying so hard to integrate into the community, you know? So what can you tell me, you know anything about all this?

I sigh with regret and shake my head.

– Sorry, Terry, wish I could help you, but I really don't know anything.

Tom is back on his feet.

– Bullshit! Bullshit! He was there, man. He was poking around when I got there with Hurley to take a look. So what were you doing there, stooge? What were you doing there?

– He has a point, Joe, what were you doing there tonight?

– Same as you guys, taking a look. I live down here too, and I've done as much as anyone to keep this neighborhood a quiet place; more than my fair share. Do I do some favors for the Coalition? You know I do. Just like I do favors for the Society when you ask me. This thing last night, that kind of mess is bad for all of us. So yeah, after the cops cleared out I went over there to take a look.

– And what did you find?

– Well I don't know, Terry, I didn't really find anything. Which is not to say I wouldn't have found something if this joker hadn't popped up and had Hurley clock me. Far as I know it's like the cops said and that kid Singh did it.

– Really? Does that sound reasonable to you? I mean, knowing what we know about the world and the way it works? I mean, being an open-minded kind of guy, does that sound like a reasonable story?

I look him in the eye.

– Terry, I got no reason to lie. Far as I know the kid did it. But could this be, and this is what I think you're asking, could this be a Coalition deal? A setup? Well you know as well as I do it could be. Hell, it could be a Coalition op all the way down the line from the zombies.

– VOZs, please.

– Right, from the VOZs right down to the frame on the kid. But as far as I know…

– It's just like the cops say.

– Far as I know.

Terry looks down at the floor and nods his head.

– Well, Joe, that's fair enough. I respected you and asked you a straightforward question, and I can only hope that you've respected me and given me an honest answer.

– You know how I feel about you, Terry.

A slight smile visits his mouth and he looks at me from the corner of his eye.

– Yeah, I guess I do at that.

He gets up off the cot and gestures toward the door.

– Well that's it, you can take off.

I get up and brush off the seat of my pants as I head for the door.

– You mind if I get my guns back before I go?

– Hurley has them. He'll walk you out and give them to you on the street.

– Thanks.

Tom is glaring at me.

– That's it? We're letting him go after that lame bullshit?

– We're letting him go because it is not our nature to hold people against their will, Tom.

– But he knows something. Look at him, he's gloating. He knows something and he's making fun of us right now.

I glance at Tom as I walk past him.

– What's eating you, Tom? Still can't find a vegan substitute for blood?

He lunges at me and Lydia throws an arm bar on him. She locks him up tight and looks at me, tsk-tsking her head back and forth.

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