Resurrection (9 page)

Though far from resembling anything heroic, it was hard to sit there and do nothing. Before I even realized it, my gun was in my shaking grip, the safety thumbed off. Veronica set her warm hand on mine, pushing the weapon down while whispering saccharine words of patience. I put it away with reluctance, my eyes glued on the carnage below us.

No stranger to death, it’s not like I hadn’t seen it all before. I’ve survived wars, plagues, and even a nuclear explosion one time when I was vacationing in Japan, but it was never easy to watch people die when I had the means to do something about it. While I doubted I could save everyone, I only had so many bullets, I could have at least gotten some of them out. These people might not amount to much in the “real” world, but they were still living souls.

My fists clenched so tight they hurt, I moved away from the ledge so I didn’t have to see the massacre below. Veronica didn’t seem too bothered by it, but she didn’t have the connection to the human race like I did. She’d been born a succubus. To her, humans were a source of energy, a necessary means to an enjoyable end.

It wasn’t like that for me. I’d always been too human, too much like my mother. Compassionate and caring, she instilled in me a love of life that extended beyond my own, believe it or not. Four hundred-eighty plus years after her death, my moral compass well astray of those teachings, I still felt the gentle tug of her convictions now and again.

It would have killed her to see the man I’d become. Deep inside, I heard a heartstring twang and I paced around the stairwell hut until the screams below faded. Though it was only in memory, I couldn’t face my mother’s disapproving look.

“They’re on the move,” Veronica whispered.

My conscience girded by thoughts of revenge, a poor man’s substitute for responsibility, I made my way to the fire escape. Not waiting for Veronica, I slid down it and crept to the corner where I could watch the zombies’ retreat. She came up from behind, sneaking a quick peek around me.

Once the corpses left the street, their human luggage in hand, we followed, keeping a safe distance. To no surprise, they headed out into the dark desert. After about a half mile, the night clear and warm, a sudden windstorm sprung up out of nowhere. It took all of two seconds to realize it was magically created. The low lying gusts buffeted the dirt behind the zombies, kicking up a cloud of dust around us and scouring away all traces of the zombies’ passage.

Though it made it more difficult to follow the corpses, the dust storm also made it harder for them to spot us. It also meant we were getting closer to finding Reven. We closed the distance, hands over our noses and mouths to keep from inhaling too much dirt, and kept on their tail. The constant jabbering of the zombies was a steady guide.

After what seemed like forever, we were miles into the desert when the wind dropped off without warning. We had to scurry to not be seen. We took cover behind a small sand dune, hidden by the piled growth of brown shrubs and yellowed weeds.

Lying side by side, our eyes met and I could see the same excitement on Veronica’s face I was feeling. Hers was probably caused by the impending fight, though. Mine was thanks to the warm sand pressed comfortably against my crotch. After the nerve-rattling walk, it felt good.

The zombie horde came to a halt a little ways beyond our hiding place. A large clearing about the size of a football field stood out from the ragged desert landscape, its face cleared of vegetation. Shallow rectangular holes ran in crooked rows across its length, no doubt the resting place of Reven’s pets. I had to hand it to the guy. Unable to make use of the cemeteries in town he’d made his own out in the middle of nowhere. Classified as a minor player by Abraham, he was proving he was smart, if nothing else. I’d have to keep that in mind.

Tireless, the zombies carrying bodies formed a line, the furthest out parked near the end of the clearing. For some unknown reason they just stood there, waiting for something, as the rest of the non-toting horde crawled into their holes. Unfortunately, whatever order they were following that caused them to form up sure didn’t keep them quiet. Like a bunch of old, cantankerous hens, they clucked on and on, their babbling driving me nuts. If it hadn’t been for the arrival of a dark figure near the front of the line, I’d have snapped and started shooting.

I watched as the figure drew closer, but due to the distance there was little I could make out about it. Despite that, there was a sense of grace about it, as if it were gliding through the darkness. A flash of silver sparkled at its hips, drawing my eyes. I growled deep in my throat as I spotted the twin swords. They’d given him away.

This was the bastard McConnell and I had run into under the mausoleum. My hand crept to my gun, easing it out of the holster. Veronica tensed beside me reading my response. Her hands imitated mine as she drew her blades without making a sound.

Before I could do anything else, movement behind the masked assassin caught my attention. A huddled mass of zombies stumbled into the clearing, an aluminum tub held between them. Similar groups appeared behind them as the first moved alongside the line. I glanced over at Veronica. She shrugged, her eyes never leaving the drama unfolding in front of us. Unsure of what they were planning, I looked back as the zombies set the tub down onto the sand.

The assassin drew one of his swords in a quick, smooth movement. Goose bumps danced up my arms. I’d seen what he could do with that thing and I wasn’t looking forward to another demonstration. Fortunately, he didn’t know we were there. He made a gesture with his free hand and the lead zombie bent the corpse it carried over, its head and shoulders hanging above the tub. Right then I realized what they intended. They were draining the bodies.

The assassin leaned down and slid his blade across the neck of the corpse, its sharpness biting in deep. A burst of red spewed from the slit throat, spraying into the tub with a hiss. Once the body gave up its fluid, it was tossed aside. The next zombie advanced and the ritual was repeated. One after another the corpses were emptied and discarded.

We took advantage of the assassin’s distraction and crept closer, inching along the built up sand along the edge of the clearing. Once we’d gotten close enough to get a better look, yet still feel safe, we settled in again. I focused on the assassin as he methodically went about his bloody work. In between bodies, the lead zombie shambling out of the way as the one behind it moved up, he rested his hand on his hip, his wrist curving inward. Right then, my inner alarm went off.

I sharpened my focus and searched out the fine details I’d missed viewing the whole. His small wrist rested against a rounded hip, which led down to a shapely, well-built leg.
That
was defined by a pair of skin-tight black pants which were tucked into narrow black boots. I felt a little weird checking the guy out, but something wasn’t right about him. Either that or I was becoming a little too open-minded in my old age. I’m all for freedom of sexuality, a warm orifice is pretty much the same as any other given the circumstances, but it made me uncomfortable thinking about it.

Ignoring the voices in my head, which were questioning my manhood, I let my eyes scan upward to a slim waist that suddenly expanded disproportionately with the rest of the figure. I traced the lines to where lean muscular arms jutted out and realized that he was wearing some kind of protective vest that had distorted my perception.

Scratch that, not he; she.

The assassin was a woman.

I breathed a sigh of relief as I spied the twin bulges packed tight beneath the lightweight, armored vest. I sunk into the sand, telling my inner voices where they could go and the best way to get there. Veronica stared at me as I wiped away the cold sweat that had built up on my forehead. She raised an eyebrow. To answer, I pointed at the assassin and held my hands in front of my chest doing the universal sign for boobs. She rolled her eyes at me and went back to watching the drama. Apparently she already knew. Damn women’s intuition.

I looked back to the assassin with a new appreciation for her. Not only did she work McConnell over, she managed to make Kevlar look sexy. She continued along the line of bodies, draining each in turn in what seemed like an endless parade of flowing blood. The zombies carried off the tub once it was close to full.

At the start of the second tub, I caught a glimpse of something else making its way through the darkness. The movement was too fast to be a zombie. I nudged Veronica just as someone in a long black cloak emerged from the shadows near the assassin.

“We’re not alone, Karra,” the person beneath the cloak spoke boldly with no pretense of subterfuge, his voice like a frigid, northern storm. He raised his hand and pointed right at us.

The assassin spun, drawing her second blade in a blur of motion as she dashed toward us. Outed—my hiding place, not my sexuality—I popped up and leveled my gun. Veronica rose up as well, her blades readied. She moved off to the side a ways, putting distance between us to force Karra to choose a target.

I knew how fast she was, so I didn’t waste any time trying to be precise. I hit the trigger in rapid succession and hoped she couldn’t outrun a bullet.

She couldn’t apparently.

She could, however,
block
them. Like flies on a cold day, she batted the bullets out of the air with her swords, reflecting them off into the darkness with but a flick of her wrist. She never even stopped moving forward.

Impressed by the display, I realized too late I’d stopped firing until she was right on top of me. I shifted to get a better angle as she closed. Veronica flanked. Before I had a chance to fire again, the assassin had dropped low and slipped passed me, one of her swords slicing deep into the meat of my forearm.

A searing pain exploded down the length of my arm followed instantly by another in my hamstring, Karra’s backswing connecting before she moved away. Surprised by the unexpected pain of a magically forged sword, I froze. Veronica dodged around me to give chase. A waft of bitterness assailed my nose as I watched my gun tumble from my hand, my fingers going numb. I recognized the scent from when she’d dropped McConnell. There was something on her blades. I hurried and examined the wound.

Though it was shallow, it bubbled with a black tar that festered around its edges, the ooze mingling with my blood. However disgusting it may sound, that was a normal reaction to my being struck by a magical weapon. What wasn’t normal was the sudden weakness and numbness that spread out from the wounds like wildfire.

Under no control of mine, my right arm dropped to my side lifeless. I growled as a light went off in my head reminding me about my leg, which too had gone numb. I collapsed in a heap a second later, my leg unable to support my weight. Whatever nastiness the assassin had on her swords, it was fast acting and potent. The muscles in both my arm and leg refused to obey. Rigid and without life, they were useless.

I rolled my head around when I heard the clang of colliding swords and shouted, “Poison on the blades.”

Though Veronica didn’t bother to acknowledge my warning, I was sure she’d heard me. Her posture shifted noticeably as she and Karra crossed blades, her stance becoming more defensive. The aggressive wide swings she’d used at first had reverted to short, snapping strikes, her blades held closer to her body.

I watched the two go at it for a few seconds as they circled each other, a ballet of silver flashes in the moonlight. To me, it appeared as though Veronica was the better swordswoman, though not by much. It
was
enough, however, to give me hope.

Using my good arm, I dragged myself toward my pistol, which lay a few feet away in the sand. The poison had apparently spread as my hip and shoulder had become stiff as boards. It made it hard to move, but the sound of steel clanging on steel drove me on. Once I retrieved my weapon, I looked around real quick. I found it strange the zombies hadn’t joined in, having expected them to have swarmed all over us by then.

Spotting the cloaked man, who had to be the necromancer Reven, I realized why they hadn’t. They continued in their blood draining, a handful of zombies gathered around the tub tearing the throats from their victims to speed the process. Reven stared back at me through shimmering yellow eyes that peered out from beneath his hood. He must have had faith his assassin could handle us because he stood there calm, unconcerned. So far he’d been right.

Out of spite, I felt the need to shit on his assumption.

My gun in my left hand, I turned it on Reven. Equally functional shooting with my left or my right, my aim was spot on.

At least it would have been.

Reven must have seen me setting up because he was on the move and heading for the darkness before I could even squeeze the trigger. A wall of corpses shambled to get between us. Meant for the necromancer who was long gone, the bullet slammed into the chest of a zombie that’d moved into the way. The impact wobbled it and punched a hole in its torso, but did little else.

To the zombie that is. While it didn’t bring down Reven like I’d hoped, the sound of my gun going off had unintended consequences.

No doubt surprised I’d been able to go after her master, despite my injuries, the assassin broke off fighting with Veronica to come to Reven’s aid. Her loyalty cost her. Given the opening she needed, Veronica stepped inside and put her dagger to use. I heard Karra cry out as the blade gouged a deep, red groove across her hip, just below the protection of the vest. She stumbled, one of her swords tumbling free as she used her hand to keep from falling. Veronica closed to finish her off.