Chapter 17
WE WERE in my car, speeding across town to Gina’s house. It had taken a lot of cajoling, pleading, and demanding before I finally got Brenda and Derek to get in the car. They thought I was taking Derek to a hospital, and I let them go on thinking that. I had ripped a long strip off the bottom of my shirt to tie around Derek’s leg, which seemed to help, although I had no idea what extra damage, if any, would result from a bite from a zombie. I was fairly sure that Derek wouldn’t become a zombie himself. Fairly sure.
Derek sat up in the front with me, cursing under his breath and holding his leg. Brenda was in the back, holding Daisy on her lap. Getting her to go anywhere near the dog had been a monumental effort, but once this was accomplished, Brenda seemed to take to Daisy and vice versa.
“I don’t think this dog is breathing,” she said.
“She doesn’t much,” I admitted. “It’s a long story.”
“She sure can bite,” Derek moaned. He looked at me, suddenly looking like a little kid despite his size. “Sorry about hitting you, dude. I thought you were a cop or someone Mrs. Sanderson sent out to get Brenda. I figured she found out we got married.”
“I am someone Mrs. Sanderson sent out to get Brenda,” I told him. “And a cop? You’d hit a cop like that?”
“Hey! I wasn’t thinking, okay?” He still wasn’t sure he liked me, but I was taking him to get his leg fixed up, so he at least trusted me for the moment.
“Seriously,” said Brenda, “I don’t think this dog is breathing at all.”
“Her respiration is so slow that it’s barely noticeable, but she’s fine,” I said. I frowned. “Did you say you two were married?”
“She’s looking at me, and her eyes are moving, but I swear there’s something wrong with her. When her eyes catch the light, they sort of glow. It’s really creepy.” In the rear view mirror I could see Brenda holding Daisy close to her. “And yeah, we got married.”
I sighed. “That’s Daisy. She’s a zombie. You’re safe, though, as long as you don’t try to harm me.”
“You mean like Dawn of the Dead zombie?” Brenda asked.
“Sort of.”
I looked again in the rear view so I could see her face. She looked skeptical but not entirely unbelieving. Derek was too busy clutching at his leg and muttering expletives every few seconds to pay attention to what I’d said.
I pulled into Gina’s neighborhood, a well-to-do area with a plethora of Tudor style houses. I heard Brenda shift nervously in her seat. “I don’t think there’s a hospital near here,” she said.
“I said I’d take you to someone who could help his leg. I didn’t say anything about a hospital.”
Derek grew silent. I glanced over and saw that he was still conscious, but that was about it. I sped up and raced the rest of the way down the end of the street to where Gina’s cottage stood.
Like its neighbors, Gina’s house was in the Tudor style but on a much smaller scale. A wooden sign on her front lawn announced that here one could get a Tarot reading from Madame Gina. No prices were listed, but I knew she was on the pricey side. On the other hand, they were true readings. If Gina told you that you were going to marry a tall man from Boise, Idaho, you’d better start looking for a dress.
As I pulled into the drive, Derek leaned over, unable to hold himself upright any longer. He knocked against me making a sound somewhat like gas escaping from a pipe just as I came to a stop.
“Help me with him,” I said to Brenda as I got out of the car. She set Daisy down onto the seat and got out herself. Daisy yapped as I went around and started to pull Derek out of the car. She still wasn’t sure if he was a threat or not, but she knew he tasted good. Daisy licked her lips and snorted. Derek weighed more than me and was pretty much dead weight, so it was quite a struggle getting him to his feet. Brenda Sanderson was no help at all. She just stood by making hand gestures and suggesting that I get his arm around my shoulders, which, strangely, had already occurred to me. The jostling had revived Derek enough so he was able to assist me a little. At least we stayed upright all the way to Gina’s door, although progress was slow. Brenda followed behind us, giving me helpful suggestions, most of which involved not dropping her boyfriend.
Gina answered the door in her usual voluminous blouse, earrings dangling nearly to her shoulders. I’d called her on my cell along the way, so she had been expecting us.
“Bring him into the living room,” she instructed, “and get him onto the sofa.”
Her living room was somewhat dim as she preferred candlelight to anything else. It seemed like there were hundreds of them lit, spread across the fireplace mantle, the coffee table, and any other surface that would hold one.
Derek groaned loudly as I set him as gently as possible onto the couch.
“He’s still alive, at any rate,” Gina said.
“It was just a dog bite, wasn’t it?” a worried Brenda asked.
“Daisy,” Gina said, icicles dripping from her voice, “is no ordinary dog. Her bite can be very, very dangerous.” I thought Gina was laying it on a bit thick, but then I knew she had little patience with humans, especially those with no affinity for the paranormal. I felt sorry for the dentist she was dating.
Gina took a pair of scissors off the coffee table and cut away the bottom part of Derek’s pant leg, revealing the still-seeping wound. I had to admit it looked quite nasty. The skin around the bite was turning white and seemed to be blistering. “There is a venom in the bite of a zombie,” Gina explained to Brenda. “If the victim dies, it is this venom that causes the person to become a zombie himself. Daisy instinctively bites the heads off of her prey, otherwise there would be a small army of zombie squirrels and rats in Indianapolis by now.”
It may have been the sight of Derek’s wound or the talk of zombies, but Brenda seemed to have switched herself off. She was looking at Derek, but her eyes were devoid of intelligence.
“Take her into the den and get her some brandy,” Gina said. “I’ll take care of things in here.”
Gina’s den was a small room lined with bookcases and filled with comfortable chairs, each with its own reading lamp. The books were mainly spell books and long forgotten tomes, although there was one shelf filled, incongruously but tellingly, with hardcover editions of Danielle Steele novels.
I steered Brenda over to one of the chairs and deposited her. I found a brandy decanter on the sideboard and poured a generous snifter. Brenda sipped at it and coughed, but at least she’d rejoined the living.
“Don’t worry about a thing,” I told her. “Gina will take care of him. She’s got a healing spell that works wonders.”
“Spell?” Brenda blinked. “You talk about her like she’s some kind of a witch.”
“Yep,” I said.
GINA was over an hour muttering incantations over Derek and smothering the wound with ointments. When Brenda and I returned to the living room, we found Derek sitting up and looking much better. He was still pale, but he was smiling weakly. A large gauze bandage covered his calf.
“How are you feeling?” I asked him.
“Tons better,” he replied. “She’s a miracle worker. “
Gina was beaming, obviously pleased with herself. “Not bad, if I do say so myself.”
Brenda, however, was eying the bandaged leg warily. “I thought it would be totally healed, like it had never happened. I mean, she’s a witch, right? What sort of magic is there to putting a bandage on it?”
Gina’s brow furrowed. “I’m a witch, not fucking Harry Potter. You want miracles, call the 700 Club. I’ve removed the poison and treated the wound. After a week or two all he’ll have to remember this by will be a scar. What more do you want?”
Pissing off a witch who has lived for several centuries isn’t a smart thing to do. “You’ve done great,” I assured Gina, quickly gathering Brenda and Derek and herding them toward the door. “We’ll get out of your hair now. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”
There was silence in the car for most of the trip back to the south side. Daisy sat in the front with me while Brenda cuddled against Derek in the back. When we got within a few blocks of Gimber Street, Brenda finally spoke up. “My mom paid you to come and find me.”
“Yep.”
“And you’re going to tell her where I am?”
I nodded. “You had seemingly fallen off the face of the earth. She just wanted to know where you were, and that you were safe. Nothing says you have to go back and live with her, though or even see her. You’re an adult. Hell, you’re a married woman. You might let Tiffany and the people at work know that you’re all right, though. They’re worried about you.”
“I don’t want to talk to any of them,” Brenda said glumly. “They’ll all just say that Derek is no good and isn’t right for me. Even Tiffany says that. Like she’s got room to talk!”
I found a parking spot near Derek’s house and pulled in. Leaving the engine running, I turned to look at the couple clutching each other in the back. “Let me give you some unwanted advice,” I said. “You’re old enough to live your life any way you choose, regardless of what your mother or your roommate thinks. Bring Derek around to meet your mother. If she doesn’t like him, that’s her problem. At least you’ve tried. But don’t run away from your friends and your family just because they don’t like your taste in men.”
She nodded listlessly as she and Derek got out of the car. I couldn’t tell if she was going to take my advice, and I couldn’t care less. My jaw still ached, and I wanted to go home and get some sleep.
Derek said goodbye and as the door closed shut, he once again apologized for punching me. I told him not to worry about it. I was through with the Sandersons, or so I thought.
The next morning I learned that while Gina was doing her healing routine, another stripper was murdered not more than ten blocks from her house.