Лорел Гамильтон - Dead Ice

“If it’s moving, I intend to damage it.”

“A lot,” Nicky said.

I wanted to tell them, Don’t . This was my fault, somehow this was my fault, because I hadn’t known Warrington had been a cannibal? That was ridiculous; there was no way for me to have known that. It was his deepest, darkest secret; he wouldn’t have written it down where someone could find it, read it, know. I had done my due diligence. Both the research firm we used for searches and our office staff had found out everything they could on him and checked for the red flags that would have made me pass on the job. So why did I feel like I’d done something wrong?

Domino was scraping smaller scoops of dirt now, looking to see what he was hitting with the bladed edge of the shovel. Nicky was very seriously watching the ground underneath them for movement. Manny and I were here to help control the zombie if it woke ready to eat people. Susannah and Eddie were close by with hoods in place, so we could all scatter and they could fry the zombie. We had it covered, but I was supposed to be the big bad necromancer who knew everything there was to know about the undead. It had been a long time since I’d been caught this flat-footed by a zombie that I’d raised from the grave. I’d been surprised badly by other people’s undead, but never by my own. Was it professional pride that was hurting? I didn’t know. I just didn’t know why this was hitting me so hard, but it was; it really was.

“Movement!” Nicky said, voice loud, but the rifle never wavered.

Domino sprang out of the grave like magic, one minute in the grave, the next not, as if he’d translocated, not just leapt up like the cat he could be. Nicky stayed on post in the grave. I moved up with the shotgun, trying to see what he had noticed. The dirt looked black and empty to me.

“Get out, I’ll cover you,” I said.

“Maybe it was a mole or something,” Zerbrowski said, peering into the grave.

“Not unless it’s bigger than any mole I ever saw,” Nicky said.

“No self-respecting mole would stay around this much digging,” I said. I had the shotgun tucked in tight to my shoulder, my cheek sighting down the barrel, while I looked for movement. “Get out of it, Nicky, that’s an order.”

He had to do what I told him to do as my Bride, though my own desire for him to be more independent had made it not as automatic as it had once been. He grabbed the edge of the grave and started to jump out when I saw the ground heave, a second before a hand grabbed his ankle.

“Shit,” I said.

I couldn’t fire that close to Nicky’s leg without risking hitting him. He tried to leap out of the grave the way Domino had done, and if a human, or even another lycanthrope, had grabbed him he could have done it, but the dead hold on tighter than the living. Nicky made it to the edge of the grave and halfway onto the ground, where Domino grabbed him and helped pull him forward, but it didn’t free him from the zombie’s hand. It pulled the hand, the arm, and part of a T-shirted shoulder into sight, but the hand stayed tight to Nicky’s ankle.

I had my finger on the trigger, half-pulled, when I heard something that made me hesitate. A voice calling, “Help me!”

Warrington was down there, alert, awake, and craving flesh. He was down there begging for help. Motherfucking son of a bitch.

“SHOOT IT!” DOMINO said.

“Shoot it!” Manny said.

Zerbrowski had his own gun out and pointed.

Domino was fighting to keep Nicky from being pulled back into the grave. Nicky’s fingers were digging into the ground like he was trying to grow roots, which let me know the zombie was pulling hard.

“I won’t let him hurt you, Nicky,” I said.

“I trust you,” he said.

“Anita, shoot the damned thing,” Domino yelled.

I kept my eyes on the grave, the shotgun snugged up tight, ready to shoot. “Can you hear it, Manny?”

“Hear what?”

“The zombie.”

“I can,” Nicky said.

“So can I, so what, shoot it!” Domino said.

“Help Nicky pull the zombie up.”

“What?” Domino asked.

Even Zerbrowski said, “Anita . . .”

“Can you hear him?”

“No.”

“Trust me,” I said.

“I do,” Zerbrowski said, “you know that.”

“Thank you. Nicky, can you help Warrington get his face aboveground?”

“If Domino helps steady me and the zombie keeps holding on, yes.”

“He won’t let go,” I said.

“I’ll help you hold on, but this is crazy,” Domino said. He got an even better grip on Nicky. Manny was shaking his head, but he knelt down and helped hold Nicky, though I wasn’t sure either of them needed the help. Zerbrowski stayed with his handgun pointed at the arm and the body underneath.

Susannah came up to the grave and was looking in at the zombie. “Anita, get your guy out of there and let us do our job.”

“Not yet.”

She took off the big silver helmet and said, “Anita, how can you endanger someone you’re dating?”

“Back up, Susannah, give me room to work.”

“Work how?”

“I don’t have time to explain. Warrington, Mr. Warrington, can you hear me?”

The screaming just kept repeating, “Help me! Help!”

“We’re coming, Warrington, we’re coming.”

The scream changed to, “Ms. Blake, Ms. Blake, help me!”

“Jesus,” Domino said.

“What is it?” Manny asked.

“Bring him up a little, Nicky.” I kept the shotgun on him. If he tried to bite Nicky I’d blow his head off, but I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do that.

Nicky just flexed the leg that the zombie was holding on to, while his hands and one knee dug into the ground so hard that he started to make divots in the dry earth. Domino and Manny held on to him so he didn’t topple back into the grave, which would have been really bad.

The zombie’s hand stayed tight around Nicky’s ankle, and then his head came up above the earth like a drowning swimmer pulled from the sea. He came up screaming, high and piteous, his words lost in the horror of it all, and then he started coughing.

“Warrington,” I said, still aiming at the face.

He coughed harder.

“Bring him up a little higher, Nicky, not too much more yet.”

Nicky crawled farther out of the grave with the other men holding on to him and brought the zombie up so that his upper chest was free, but the other arm was still trapped in the soft dirt. The zombie coughed harder, then started puking up dirt the way he’d thrown up food earlier.

“God help us, he was buried alive,” one of the grave diggers said.

“Not exactly,” I said.

“He was buried undead,” Manny said, his face pale even by moonlight.

When enough dirt had come out, the zombie leaned against the side of the grave but still had Nicky’s ankle in its grasp. I wasn’t sure if Warrington even knew that he was still holding on to anything, or if he was like a drowning victim—once they have hold of anything they don’t let go. It’s how lifeguards get drowned every year trying to save people.

I wanted to help Warrington, but I wasn’t letting him hurt Nicky, or anyone else, trying to save himself. I would help him if I could, but if I couldn’t I’d let Susannah and her dad do their job. Once I had that decision dragged into the front of my head, I was calmer.

“Warrington, can you hear me?” I asked, still pointing the shotgun at his face.

He blinked up at me, but those fine hazel eyes were corpse’s eyes now, half lost in their wasted sockets, color stolen by the moon. His face was waxy and skeletal; all the miraculous humanity had been lost, so that he was just another zombie except for his words.