Resurrection (24 page)

I picked Chatterbox from out of the fog and lifted him up where he could see. His squirmy eyes were glazed, subdued, and they tracked on Veronica like a lovelorn puppy. He was quiet and pensive, nothing like himself. I didn’t like it. There’d be no metal serenades today.

Maybe when everything was said and done, I’d get my singing buddy back. Of course, considering what I had in mind to do next, I might not have to worry about that. I might be dead.

Rather than dwell on the grim likelihood of my future, I went to work. “You passed on my message exactly as I gave it to you?”

“Of course,” she huffed.

“Good. Then let’s get going.”

Veronica glared at me a moment, then shifted her gaze to Chatterbox. Her repulsion colored her face, seeping out like mercury in her voice. “Lead us to Reven.”

“
Folllllloooooowww meeeeeeeee
,
meeeeee
,
eeeeee
,” he answered immediately. Though incapable of independent movement, the whole lacking a body thing, he made it clear which way we needed to go. His slippery tongue jetted from his mouth and wiggled in the direction of the portal we’d used to enter Limbo.

At the sight of it, Veronica stormed off looking nauseous while I followed along lugging Chatterbox, Poe silently bringing up the rear. We looked a ragtag bunch: an angry ex-wife, a battered mentalist, and me, the white sheep of the black family. I could think of a handful of people I’d rather have at my side, but beggars can’t be choosers. In the end, I was likely marching off to my death.

Did it really matter which side killed me?

Chapter Twenty

We made it through the shimmering portal and returned to Earth without any problems, much to my surprise. It was as if the spirits knew there was some major shit going down on
Terra Firma
and they didn’t want anything to do with it. Can’t say I blame them. I didn’t want much to do with it myself.

It was the same uncomfortable quiet on the Earth side. Lilith hadn’t posted a guard or wasted her time watching the gateway, trusting her manipulated goons to kill me. She didn’t know me very well.

Had she been on better terms with her daughter, Veronica could have told her I was real good at screwing up the plans of mice and men, and a succubus or two, now and again. It was a specialty of mine.

Expecting me to be dead, there was probably steam coming out of her ears when I popped back onto the plane alive. Not only had I survived her latest trap, but it’d look to her like I offed the three powerful minions she stole from Baalth. She was not gonna be happy.

To that end, I spurred Veronica and Poe on, our unholy trinity following the waggling lead of Chatterbox’s blackened tongue. While I wanted Lilith to come after me, I didn’t want to face her in the alley. If she showed up too soon, she’d ruin everything. And that likely included me.

A stolen car and an aggravating, circuitous drive to the other side of town later, I could have kicked myself as I realized where Chatterbox was leading us. I should have thought about it long before this. It was the perfect hideout, invisible in plain sight.

When El Paseo was smaller—more dirt, less people—travel to the city was mainly military related, minimizing the need for expensive, public air transportation. Before the city’s population exploded, inheriting the need for an international airport, what didn’t come by railroad was flown in to a small, privately owned airfield situated just outside of town. As the city grew, the need gone, the airfield was shut down, the government canceling their contract. Stubborn and too blind to see the value of the land it sat on, the owner refused to sell and the city engulfed it, building up around the airfield, isolating it.

Nowadays, the land is deeded to the owner’s sons under the provision they hold on to it, untouched, until the military comes to its senses and renews the contract; a circumstance that will never happen.

As such, the land sits empty and ignored, an oasis of overgrown weeds and cracked tarmac, five miles square. Surrounded by a fifteen foot fence capped with redundant layers of razor wire, and rumored to be a preserve for the city’s wild Pit Bull population, the airfield is avoided by even the most ardent of trespassers. It’s a blackened abyss wedged in the center of El Paseo’s failing industrial district, cut off from the world around it. There’s no longer even a street that leads to its rusted, shackled gates, the way blocked off over fifty years earlier.

If there was a better hiding place for a necromancer and an army of zombies, I didn’t know it.

As we got closer, the sun setting in the hazy horizon, we ditched the car and headed through the jumble of weather-worn warehouses and half-abandoned factories. We circled around the perimeter to be sure, avoiding the more populated areas, but Chatterbox’s tongue was rigid with insistence that his master lay beyond the industrial plots.

Rather than take the time to search for an opening, Veronica slipped her sword through a hole in the fence and pressed down, the rune-covered blade slicing through the chain links like scissors through paper. After just a few seconds, she’d carved us a door without making a sound. I slipped through the makeshift entrance, following her. Poe was at my heels, the shining chrome of my old weapon in his hand.

My own gun was out and I carried Chatterbox cradled under my arm as we pressed on through the waist-high grass and grabbing weeds, keeping low to avoid being seen. While we knew Reven was at the airfield, the place was huge. I could guess he’d be somewhere near the center, out of sight from casual view, but I wanted a more accurate locator. Turned out, we didn’t need it.

As we approached the dilapidated control tower, its windows long since having fallen out, we spotted movement on the tarmac. I quickly set Chatterbox down and crouched beside him, Veronica and Poe doing the same, all eyes on the busy runway. The scene, illuminated by the dying rays of the sun and an early moon, made it clear we’d come to the right place. At the base of the tower, huddled together and swaying back and forth like a sea of rotten flesh, was a horde of mumbling zombies.

Out in front of them, gouged into the black asphalt were a massive number of intricate necromantic symbols, spread across what had to have been the length of a football field. Inside their carved shapes was a dark liquid that rippled in the gentle evening breeze. The air was thick with a rusty copper scent, so strong it made my nose itch. It took me a second to recognize the smell, its tang overpowering. It took a second longer to realize its source.

The liquid in the trenches was blood.

My mind boggled as I stared out across the field of symbols, imagining how many people had to die to fill their depths. Reven had been busy. My stomach tightened into a hard ball of hate, sickened by both the smell and his callous disregard of human life. Itching to put a bullet through his skull, I surveyed the runway, but couldn’t spot him anywhere.

Just as I was about to give up and ask Poe if he was capable of picking anything out of the zombies’ heads, a sudden rash of movement amongst their grouping drew my attention. The edges of the horde began to amble forward, spreading their mass thinner as they did. Centered within their smelly ranks, a tight cluster of six zombies trudged up the middle, an object wrapped in purple silk carried reverentially between them. It had to be Longinus.

At their side was Reven, his cloak hood pulled low over his face, his pale hand resting on the silk covering as he kept pace with his pets, as though afraid to let it go. Karra was nowhere to be seen. That worried me.

Unable to locate her, I watched while the pall bearers made their way toward the center of the symbols, the congregation’s undead voices dropped to a whisper, then to nothing. Silent, they took up positions around the edge of the runway, forming a number of big circles, several coming to rest less than twenty feet from where we hid. Fortunately for us, they turned inward, facing Reven, giving us some freedom of movement.
Unfortunately
, there were a bunch of them between me and the necromancer, so I couldn’t get a clean shot in.

I mouthed a four letter complaint and gestured to the interfering zombies when Veronica looked over her shoulder at me, presumably thinking the same thing. She nodded and drifted, like a shadow, off to our right. Poe and I went after her, hoping to get a better angle, my eyes locked on Reven the entire time. While we moved, the necromancer and his zombies reached the swirling symbol that sat dead center of the rest. The pall bearers set their package down with great care and stepped away, moving off to join the rest of their buddies.

Once they’d cleared the way, Reven peeled back the purple shroud, revealing what lay inside. My presumption was right, it
was
Longinus. Though his flesh had a concrete-gray pallor to it, and it’d been a long time since I’d seen him last, I recognized him immediately. He was unmistakable.

Dressed in a suit of regal finery, of purples and black, his clothing hid the wounds of his final moments with Lucifer’s dread fiends. His face, ordered left intact by my uncle, showed no signs of his ordeal. Despite the horrific manner of his death, he looked at peace. I knew it was only because supernatural beings don’t rot, their bodies made of sterner stuff than humans, but if I hadn’t known better, I would have sworn he was only sleeping. I half expected him to open his eyes and say, “Boo!”

His long, thick beard stood out dark against his pale face, his expression smoothed to neutral by decades of lifelessness. Laid about his head like a halo, even his lion-like mane retained its dark vibrancy. There was an energy about him that wafted through the air, pinging against the wall of my senses. His power was evident, even in death.

We had to make sure he stayed that way.

As Reven began to chant, his voice drifting out from the blackness beneath his hood, I knew we were running out of time. Lilith hadn’t arrived, as I’d hoped, and Karra still lurked somewhere, out of sight. My plan to let everyone else do the fighting was quickly going down the drain. It was time for the direct approach.

I leaned in close to Veronica. “I need you to run interference. Sweep a path for me so I can get a clear shot at Reven.”“And if you miss?”

I didn’t want to think about that. “I won’t.

She sighed, knowing damn well it wouldn’t be that easy, but nodded nevertheless, drawing her blades without a sound. It was down to the wire and we needed to make something happen. At least if things went south, I still had my aces stuffed up my sleeve. I just hoped they’d be enough.

I motioned with my arm to show Veronica which way I wanted her to go, then gestured for Poe to follow my lead. If I didn’t get the necromancer, maybe he would. It wasn’t much in the way of insurance, but it’d have to do. At this point, I was just making shit up.

Hearing Reven’s voice rise in pitch as he summoned Longinus from the grave, I tapped Veronica on the ass and urged her forward. She gave me a dirty look, her eyes damn near shooting sparks, then leapt toward the zombies.

She never reached them.

From low in the grass, just yards from where we had hidden, Karra sprung out, intercepting her. Her swords flashed silver and before I could move or even cry out, Veronica lay twitching and cursing on the ground. Poe and I jumped up as one, growls in our throats, but Karra was faster.

The flat of her blade slammed hard into my wrist, my hand instantly numb, though only from the impact and not the poison of the blade. While I watched my gun tumble free of my grip, my hand useless, she kicked me in the gut. Struck by what felt like a cinderblock launched from a cannon, I flew back about ten feet before coming to a tumbling halt in a tangle of prickly weeds.

Tired of getting my ass kicked, I was tempted to draw upon my new power, but thought better of it. In the throes of a soul transfer, I’d be completely helpless. Though considering how I was
almost
completely helpless now, I wasn’t sure it made much of a difference. With a groan, my mind made up—sort of—I hopped up to face Karra.

She stood over Poe, his rigid body hard to see in the high grass. It didn’t take much imagination to guess what had happened. My turn would be next.

Rather than come at me, she remained still, her eyes on mine, her swords pointing my direction. I looked for my gun and spotted it. It lay closer to where she stood than where I did. There was no way I’d beat her to it.

I sighed, the fight pretty much over before it began, but I wasn’t ready to call it quits just yet. “Beating us isn’t gonna change anything; we’re just pawns.” I tried to frighten her. “Lilith will be here any minute.”

Karra sheathed her blades with a metallic snap. “I certainly hope so.” She gestured to Reven, who stopped his chanting. “She comes, get ready.” The necromancer bowed and scurried off into the crowd of zombies.

That’s when it hit me, a ton of proverbial bricks dropped on my thick skull. “You used me?”

“Don’t be so melodramatic, Frankie. I’m sure it’s not the first time.”

It wasn’t, but that was beside the point. “That’s why you let me live, so I could lead Lilith here?” I was feeling a little slow right then, my brain mired in the gooey remains of my comprehension. Lilith tried to manipulate me, and when that failed, she tried to kill me. As for Daartan, he’d simply strong-armed me into cooperating. That was par for the course when it came to dealing with the supernatural world, and I’d expected nothing more, but I’d taken a big chomping bite out of the bait Karra had cast, hook, line, and sinker. That pissed me off.