Green-Eyed Demon

Stryx screeched.



A second later, the corpse yelled. Help!



“No, Kevin, we need to know where Maisie is. Maisie,” I enunciated, stepping to the very edge of the circle.



Big box! Cat piss. Master come! Kane! HELP!



I frowned. “What?”



Stryx’s frenzied movements continued so hard that the cage fell over. The crash shocked Kevin out of stillness. His gray hands clawed at the dirt until he had enough momentum to rise into a sitting position. I stumbled back, wondering if this was normal. I had my answer when Zen freaked the fuck out and ran out of the circle screaming.



I grabbed her as she darted past. “Whoa! Hold on. Where are you going?”



Her eyes were wild. “The spell went wrong. He shouldn’t be moving.”



I frowned at her, my heart thumping. “What?”



“We accidentally reanimated him. He’s a revenant!”



My brow hurt from frowning at her so hard. I’d heard the term revenant before but couldn’t quite put my finger on an exact definition. Before I could ask Zen, however, a terrible moan to my right grabbed my attention. Kevin Johnson was on his feet. His coordination was off, so he didn’t so much walk as shamble .



“Wait. Are you telling me that”— I pointed an accusing finger at Kevin— “is a godsdamned zombie?”



Before she could answer, Stryx started squawking louder and pushing against the edge of the cage. His frantic movements rattled the cage so hard it rolled. Fortunately, the ruckus distracted the zombie and he stopped moving toward us like a drunken toddler. Kevin was still tuned into the owl’s thoughts, so he provided a running commentary. Fly! Must fly! Need master!



Unfortunately, he also started lumbering toward Stryx’s cage.



“Shit,” I whispered. “I don’t suppose you have any zombie-be-gone in that bag of yours?”



Zen’s rapidly retreating voice reached me from halfway across the cemetery. “Screw the owl. It’s every man for himself.”



“Some voodoo priestess you are!” I yelled after her. I wanted to drag her back and make her deal with this, but I didn’t have time. Because at that moment, Kevin the Zombie was grabbing at Stryx’s cage. The owl’s shrieks of alarm only seemed to egg the revenant on. He also continued to scream Stryx’s thoughts. Danger! Fly! Master, help!



In between screams, Kevin smacked his lips like a fat man at an all-you-can-eat buffet.



“Okay, Sabina.” I gave myself a pep talk. “Pull yourself together. It’s just the reanimated corpse of a human.” Louder, I yelled. “Hey, Zombie Boy!”



“Gargh?” the zombie groaned, and his stiff neck swiveled so he could gaze at me with his dead, dead eyes.



I rubbed my head in what I hoped the zombie would find an appetizing manner. “Come and get it!”



He waved an arm as stiff as a tree branch in my direction. Then he started groping at the cage with rigored fingers. I probably shouldn’t have been offended that a zombie just shooed off an opportunity to eat my brains, but I had to admit it stung.



By this time, Stryx’s cries must have had no meaning, because Kevin had stopped his translations in favor of moans.



“Fine. Have it your way.” I grabbed my gun from my waistband.



“It won’t work.” Zen’s voice came from far away. I looked over my shoulder and saw her crouching behind a bush near the entrance.



Ignoring her, I turned back around and squeezed off five rounds in quick succession. The zombie’s body jerked with each impact, but he didn’t fall or even drop the cage.



“Told you!” a faint feminine voice called.



Mmmoooaaannn. Kevin had finally gotten the door of the cage open and was fishing around inside for the frantic owl.



“You gotta cut his head off,” Zen yelled.



Of course I did. As I ran to look for something to use in the weeds, the zombie let loose an eerie victory cry. A second later, my hand closed around the handle of a garden spade. Not ideal, but better than the portable shovel I’d used to dig the grave.



I turned in time to see the zombie’s maw open wide. Despite his stiff limbs, the revenant’s strength was impressive as he managed to grip the struggling owl and lift it toward his gaping mouth.



“No!” I drew the spade back and started running. It happened in slow motion. My legs burning. The head of the tool swinging through the air. Kevin’s jaw crashing down on Stryx’s head. The jolt of impact slamming up my arm.



The zombie fell to the side, spewing a mouthful of feathers as he went. But I’d been too late. The owl’s ravaged carcass dropped to the dirt at my feet.



The zombie moaned and rolled. Before he could work up enough momentum to rise, though, I slammed my boot heel into his chest. A grunt escaped his chest. His hands clawed at my shins.



I looked down on him like an avenging angel, raising the spade handle up with the metal end pointing down. Beneath me, the zombie went still. His grotesque face morphing into a pitiful mask of fear.



“Mother?”



I slammed the spade down with all my might. It stopped partway through the neck. Putting my heel on the shoulder of the metal, I stomped down until the spade broke through with a crunch and lodged in the soil beneath the zombie’s severed neck.



Panting, I wiped the back of my shaking hand across my forehead. A twig snapped behind me. My heart kicked back into gear as I spun.



“Shit!” I yelled when I saw it was just Zen. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.” My heart downshifted, but my ire was still up. I glared at the human. “Thanks for all your help, by the way.”



She crossed her arm. “Forgive me, but some of us aren’t immortal.”



“Whatever.” I sighed and looked down at the Stryx’s lifeless body. “Now what the hell am I supposed to do?”



“I think you’re missing the bigger issue here.”



“What?”



She pointed to the headless zombie.



“Oh. You must have done something wrong.”



She shot me a look. “I did everything right. The only variable was you.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re half-mage, right?”



I nodded. A bad feeling crept through my midsection all the sudden.



“But you don’t use your powers?”



I looked down at my boots. “Not really.”



“What did he say to you before you killed him?”



I looked up quickly. “You heard that?”



She raised an eyebrow.



“He said ‘Mother,’ ” I mumbled.



She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “Sabina, why would a zombie think you’re his mother?”



I had a really bad feeling I knew the answer, but I didn’t like it at all. “Hypothetically , does it matter who the blood comes from in the spell?”



She pursed her lips. “Sometimes. But you’d have to be a very powerful mage for this”— she pointed at Kevin’s corpse— “to happen.” Her tone clearly communicated that Zen believed I was a run-of-the-mill mage with subpar skills. I agreed on the skills part, but—



I swallowed. “You mean like a Chthonic mage?”



Her eyes flared. “You’re a Chthonic?” she roared. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that sooner?”



I shrugged. “I didn’t know it mattered!”



“Of course it matters! Chthonic magic amplifies necromancy spells tenfold! Especially if there’s blood involved!” She shook her head at me. “Unbelievable! I sensed darkness in you when we met, but I figured it was just the vampire thing.”



“Well, excuse me,” I said. “It’s not like I’ve ever done something like this before. Rhea should have told you.”



She threw up her hands. “Gods of the Loa, you’re unbelievable. This isn’t Rhea’s fault. At the very least Adam should have mentioned it.”



“Hey! At least I took care of it. Which is more than I can say for some people, who ran and hid.”



She started talking under her breath. I only caught a few words, but I stopped listening when I heard “misbegotten daughter of Satan.”



“Okay, so I think we can both chalk this up to a lesson learned,” I said. “Can we go now?”



She stopped pacing and shot me a glare so hot my cheeks burned. “Not so fast there. You’ve got a body to rebury.”



My mouth fell open. “You’ve got to be joking.”



She looked pointedly at the spade. “Don’t forget the owl.”



18



An hour later, I slammed out of Zen’s car. My first priority was a shower. Between the mud and the bits o’ Kevin coating my clothes, I felt like a walking hazmat disaster.



Zen followed more slowly. Smart of her. I’d found her merely annoying before, but after the confrontation in the cemetery and her judgy attitude over my honest mistake, I couldn’t stand the woman. The whole thing had me seriously regretting my promise to have a kinder, gentler attitude toward the mortally challenged.



Of course, part of my foul mood might have stemmed from the fact I’d rammed headfirst into another dead end. As I stomped up the back steps of the store, I prayed Adam and Giguhl’s recon had been more successful than my clusterfuck of a night.



I threw open the door and prepared to go inside, but something stopped me. It took me a second to realize what was off. For a Friday night, the store was abnormally quiet. I held a hand up to Zen. “Wait here.”



She frowned but was smart enough not to argue.



I pulled my gun and entered the office at the back of the building. I stopped to listen, but the place was silent except for the echoes of the crowds of Bourbon Street. I made my way to the thick curtain separating the office from the store.



I blew out a breath and silently parted the panels. The store looked like a bomb had gone off. I cursed. A quick scan revealed overturned tables, broken glass, and colorful debris littering the floor. Then my eyes landed on something sparkly by the stairs that made my blood go cold— a golden cobra atop a black wig. Luckily the cornrows weren’t still attached to a head, but since Cleopatra was supposed to have vacated the premises hours earlier, the sight sent me into full-on crisis mode.