Bring Out Your Dead

Bring Out Your Dead

A Dark Ones Novella

Katie MacAlister

Copyright 2006, 2011 by Katie
MacAlister

www.katiemacalister.com

“
Bring Out Your
Dead” was originally published in the
Just
One Sip
and
My
Zombie Valentine
anthologies by Leisure
Books in 2006 and 2010, respectively.

Smashwords edition: May 2011

All rights reserved. No part of this book
may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written
permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in
critical articles and reviews.

Smashword Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal
enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold

or given away to other people. If you would
like to share this book with another person,

please purchase an additional copy for each
recipient. If you’re reading this book and did

not purchase it, or it was not purchased for
your use only, then please return to

Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.
Thank you for respecting the hard work

of this author.

Also by Katie MacAlister

Paranormal Romances

IN THE COMPANY OF VAMPIRES, A Dark
Ones Novel

CONFESSIONS OF A VAMPIRE’S
GIRLFRIEND, A Dark Ones Novel

LOVE IN THE TIME OF DRAGONS, A
Novel of the Light Dragons

STEAMED, A Steampunk
Romance

CROUCHING VAMPIRE, HIDDEN FANG, A
Dark Ones Novel

ZEN AND THE ART OF VAMPIRES, A
Dark Ones Novel

ME AND MY SHADOW, A Novel of the
Silver Dragons

UP IN SMOKE, A Novel of the Silver
Dragons

PLAYING WITH FIRE, A Novel of the
Silver Dragons

HOLY SMOKES, An Aisling Grey,
Guardian, Novel

LIGHT MY FIRE, An Aisling Grey,
Guardian, Novel

FIRE ME UP, An Aisling Grey,
Guardian, Novel

YOU SLAY ME, An Aisling Grey,
Guardian, Novel

THE LAST OF THE RED-HOT
VAMPIRES

EVEN VAMPIRES GET THE
BLUES

SEX, LIES, AND VAMPIRES

SEX AND THE SINGLE
VAMPIRE

A GIRL’S GUIDE TO
VAMPIRES

Contemporary Romances

BLOW ME DOWN

HARD DAY’S KNIGHT

THE CORSET DIARIES

MEN IN KILTS

IMPROPER ENGLISH

Historical Romances

THE TROUBLE WITH HARRY

NOBLE DESTINY
NOBLE INTENTIONS

Author’s Note

This novella was
originally written and published in 2006, part of the
Just One Sip
anthology.
For those readers who are trying to place the events contained
within this novella in context to my other Dark Ones books, it
falls after
Sex, Lies, and
Vampires
, but before
Even Vampires Get the Blues
. So if
you’re confused why Salvaticus is being mentioned in this story,
but is long past by my more current vampire books, that’s
why.

Chapter One

“
Braiiinssss.”

“
Yes, I know.”

“
Braaaaaainnnsss!”

“
Ysabelle?” The front door
thumped shut with an audible grunt from Noelle, one of my two
flatmates. “One of these days we’re going to get Mr. Sinclair to
fix that door…Ysabelle?”

“
Elle est
right here
avec
le
sitting
chambre du femmes
,” Sally, my other
flatmate, called out as she drifted through the room. Sally had
issues.

“
Braaaains!”

“
Vous
said a mouthful.” Sally beamed at my client as she wafted
past him, through the wall, and into the room beyond.

“
Oh.” The door to the
sitting room opened and Noelle stuck her head in, a worried frown
puckering her brow. “Did you know there’s a small herd of zombies
in the hall?”

I sighed, giving my client what I hoped was
a reassuringly cheerful smile. “Yes, I know, and please,
Noelle—zombie is so politically incorrect. The preferred term is
revenant, or functionally deceased.”

“
Well, there’s a group
of
fuctionally deceased
in the hall playing strip poker, and if Mr.
Sinclair sees them, he’s going to have a fit. You know how he is
about using the flat for business.”

“
Ahem! Brains!” Tim, a new
revenant in need of counseling, glared at me.

“
I apologize for the
interruption,” I said in a calm, reassuring voice as I waved Noelle
away. She rolled her eyes and closed the door, leaving me with my
client. “You were telling me about the taunting you experienced
recently?”

“
Yes, brains. Or
rather,
braiiiiiiiins.
Spoken in a slurred, repugnant voice that was accompanied by
a fine spray of spittle. That’s all they said, over and over again,
as if I were supposed to stagger toward them with a fork and knife,
and start hacking away at their heads. I am more than a little
offended by the stereotype portrayed in modern films, and which
people such as those at the bus stop wholeheartedly embrace. Isn’t
there something we can do about it? Must we endure such things
without speaking up? Is there no way to educate the public about
the true nature of revenants?”

“
We’re working very hard
to do that, but as you know, public acceptance is a hard-fought
battle, and frankly, I don’t see an end in sight any time in the
near future.”

“
Qu’est que le
hell?” Sally, who had drifted back into the room
on Noelle’s heels, paused to look out the window.

“
Sally, language,
please!”

“
Pardonnez.
But holy
merde! Voici
est
a whole boatload
du
zombies in the
rue.
I’ll go get
le
cricket bat in case
they try breaking
dans le
flat.”

“
There, you see?” Tim
pointed at Sally. She gave us a cheerful smile and flitted past to
the next room. “Your…whatever she is. That’s just the sort of
negative stereotypical reaction I object to!”

“
Sally is my spirit
guide,” I answered. “I apologize for her, as well. Some time ago
she decided she wanted to be French, so she changed her name to
Fleur and began speaking in that atrocious Franglais. We’re hoping
it’s a phase that will pass.
Soon.
”

Tim’s eyes, which reminded
me of a particularly obnoxious form of boiled sweet, bugged out at
me in the manner of an elderly pug. “Spirit guide?
You
have a spirit guide?
I thought you worked for the Society for the Protection of
Revenants?”

“
I do, but counseling is
only a part-time position,” I explained. “I also occasionally tutor
English and history, and sometimes I act as a medium for persons
wishing to contact the deceased. I’d probably have more of the
latter work if I had a spirit guide who wasn’t quite so…well, you
saw Sally. Her attempt at being French puts off a great many
people. But my personal problems are neither here nor there. We
were discussing your successful reentry into a meaningful and
productive life filled with satisfaction.”

“
It’s neither successful,
productive, nor meaningful thus far,” he said in a rather petulent
tone. “Surely there must be something we can do about the prejudice
I’ve been forced to face?”

I gave a helpless shrug. “What would you
suggest?”

“
Well…I’m a pacifist, so I
won’t go the route of violence, despite what the public seems to
believe of us. Perhaps a picket, or a boycott of nonrevenant
companies, or oh! I know! An Internet letter-writing campaign! That
worked wonders with the Save the Hedgehog folk! You should suggest
that to the Society.”

I opened my mouth to explain that the SPR
had spent decades working to educate the public as to the true
nature of their members with little success to date, but I bit back
the inevitable lecture. It would do no good. Tim was newly reborn,
as were many in this time of upheaval. He’d learn with time how to
hide his present state. My job was not to teach him to pass as
mortal—it was to get him past the first hurdles of rebirth. “I’ll
be sure to pass along your suggestions, but you know, something
like that really needs someone with excellent organizational skills
to head it up. Perhaps you’d like to start a grassroots campaign
yourself? Your resume says you were very active with a human rights
organization.”

“
Hmmm. That’s an idea,”
Tim said with a thoughtful pause. “I suppose I could do something
along those lines. Perhaps if we started small, say, a sit-in
consisting of new revenants like myself to show the public that we
aren’t the mindless, brain-eating zombies popular movies paint us
as.”

“
Excellent idea,” I said,
relieved that he was channeling his energies into something
worthwhile. Most new revenants spent several months at a loss as to
how to restart their lives.

“
Somewhere popular,
obviously. Leicester Square?”

I frowned. “There are a great many
restaurants there…”

“
Is that bad?” He looked
puzzled for a moment, then nodded. “Ah, I see what you mean. You
believe the proximity of fast food and other restaurants will be a
temptation for us to leave the vegetarian lifestyle
behind.”

“
It’s been shown that
revenants function much better in society if they severely limit
their intake of animal flesh,” I said gently. “It seems those who
turn feral tend to indulge in feeding orgies at local fast-food
restaurants. That’s why the Society insists all members adhere to a
strictly vegetarian diet. Most members have no problem, but for new
people, it can be difficult to avoid the lure of a quarter-pounder
with cheese. We recommend you avoid temptation for the first two
months.”

“
Surely a hamburger now
and again couldn’t hurt?”

“
You wouldn’t think so,
would you? But we’ve found that animal flesh is like a drug to
revenants—it leaves them addicted, needing greater and greater
quantities to satisfy the craving. Thus, the no-flesh
diet.”

For a moment, a red light lit the depths of
his eyes, but it faded quickly. “Er…yes, point taken,” he said
solemly. “Perhaps we can do the sit-in somewhere less likely to
lead to a fall. A park? Hyde Park?”

“
That sounds
perfect.”

“
Yes. I will do that.
Thank you, Ysabelle—that was an excellent suggestion. You will help
with the sit-in, naturally?”

I smiled. “I’ll do my best. If you have any
problems, feel free to contact me.”

“
Very well.” With a brisk
nod, Tim gathered the orientation and welcome packets I’d given
him. “I’d like to get started on it right away, but I suppose I
should look up my wife and see what she’s done to the house in the
six months since I died. Knowing her, she’s run amok with gingham
or some other hideous scheme.”

“
Your family was notified
last week about your resurrection, so they should be ready to greet
you,” I said, getting up to show him out. “If you have any
questions or problems, please don’t hesitate to call. My number is
on the card.”

He nodded and said good-bye.

I waved him out, then hurried to Noelle’s
door, knocking before opening it. “How did the infestation go?”

She looked up from her laptop. “Hmm? Oh, it
went well, although there were a few more coblyn than I expected.
But given Salvaticus, understandable. Speaking of that, how are you
holding up? I know this can’t be an easy time for you.”

I sighed and rubbed my neck for a moment.
“I’m tired, but I think my head is still above water. This is so
different from anything I’ve experienced as a counselor, I’m a bit
overwhelmed.”