“You called me.” He thought of adding,You turned me loose, but they both knew Jack couldn’t have stopped him.
“Yeah. Well, after what that bastard put Groves through to get your attention, I figured he deserved to reap the benefit ofhavingyour attention.” The rage in Jack’s voice echoed Henry’s own.
They walked a little further, isolated by the hour and the weather.
“Just so we’re clear though,” Jack said at last, “this was a onetime thing. I don’t want any vampire vigilante shit happening. No matter what that buddy of yours is up to in Toronto.”
“She has no part in this.” She had her own territory. “I was thinking…”
“God help us.”
“That I might pay more attention to who’s shitting on my doorstep.”
“And what does that mean when it’s home?”
That people forget who the apex predator is when he stops hunting. When all they have left is rumor, they fill in the silences with what they want to hear. He’s not so tough, they think. I can take him. I can take his place.
But all he said aloud was, “Did you know that seven percent of American men think they’d win in a hand-to-hand fight with a grizzly bear? They’re wrongtoo.”
Dirt
Jennifer Blackstream
“You had no business trying to do it yourself in the first place. You’re not a young witch, you know.”
I stared up at the pink pixie peering at me from over the edge of the bookcase. My left elbow and hip throbbed from where I’d hit the floor after falling off the chair. The painting I’d been trying to hang lay a few feet away, its blue sky of fluffy white clouds over a field of wildflowers facing the pixie.
“You’re the one who insisted we hang that painting up in the office!” I sat up and hissed as my body made me aware that my left shoulder and knee also hurt, even though they hadn’t been part of my collision with the floor.
“I wantedsomeoneto hang it up.” Peasblossom narrowed her multifaceted pink eyes. “Not you.” She stood and climbed over the edge of the bookcase, her glittering wings buzzing behind her as she launched herself into the air to glide down to the painting. “It’s February in Ohio,” she said, landing on the frame. “One needs a splash of color to remember the dreary gray skies won’t last forever.” She crossed her arms. “And you almost broke it.”
“You’re welcome,” I muttered.
A knock on my office door forced me to get up faster than my battered body would have liked. I shoved my long dark hair out of my face, trying to smooth it down. With a grunt, I pushed the chair against the wall and grabbed the painting, dislodging the judgy pixie, before hobbling over to my desk.
“Come in,” I said, raising my voice.
The door swung open and a petite woman with short blue hair poked her head inside. “I heard you talking to someone, am I interrupting?”
I leaned the painting against my desk and eased into my chair. “No, you’re not interrupting. Peasblossom and I were just discussing office decor.”
“It’s a good thing you’re here, Poppy,” Peasblossom said, flying over to land on my desk next to the nameplate that readShade Renard, PI.“If she tries to hang that painting again, we mightneeda necromancer.”
“Thanks for that.” I sighed and turned to my visitor. “It’s nice to see you again, Poppy. How’s the necromancy business going?”
“It’s not.” Poppy tugged on her leather jacket with the pink-and-black-striped sleeves, sending a soft rain of powdered sugar and grave dirt onto my office floor. “I’m on temporary hiatus pending my testimony at a trial.”
“A trial?” I echoed. “Is everything all right?”
Poppy shrugged and scratched at her jacket collar where another patch of powdered sugar clung to the seams. “Not really. I caught one of my cohorts siphoning life force from people and using it to raise the dead.”
I blinked. “I didn’t know that was an option.”
Poppy stared at her finger and the white sugary dust.
I held up a hand. “Please don’t lick your finger.”
Poppy wiped her finger on her pants and let out a huff of breath. “Using someone else’s life force isn’t agoodoption.” She crossed the room to the chair in front of my desk, her thick-heeled black boots making a heavy clomping sound with every step. “Using someone else’s life force instead of your own puts an extra space between you and the zombie you’re raising. You’ll have less control over it, and it can be harder to lay it to rest when you’re done. Not to mention the potential consequences for the person you took the life force from.”
