Arms Dealers

by Erik Henry Vick

  Dru crossed her arms and looked down at the bricks lining the garbage-strewn alley. “What’s the C3?”

  “Command, Control, and Communications. That tractor-trailer out front with SWAT all over the side.”

  “Oh.”

  They both paused and looked up as a window shattered on the third floor. A red and white cooler flew out the window and bounced off the opposite wall of the alley, cracking along one corner and tumbling into an open dumpster. The Ganeshan trumpeted inside the apartment, and the sound of wood splintering and glass shattering followed it.

  “Heads up,” said Leery.

  Dru wrote runes in the air that glowed with pent up energy. She connected them with a ten-pointed star and stood ready to invoke the figure’s power.

  Leery backed up until his shoulders pressed against the cold, rough bricks of the building behind. His gaze locked on the shattered window, and as another cooler came flying out, he motioned for Dru to step back.

  The cooler struck the grimy alley floor and shattered, spilling human arms into the other refuse with the wet splat of rotten tomatoes. Dru curled her lip, but Leery never even glanced at it.

  Upstairs, a werewolf howled, and Leery threw back his head and howled back, eyes glowing with chartreuse light. “Be ready,” he growled. “That was a warning from our boy upstairs.”

  The unmistakable sound of automatic gunfire erupted from the apartment, followed by the pained shriek of the Garudan. Power exploded from inside, shattering the rest of the apartment’s windows and raining yet more glass down on them.

  A zombie dove out onto the fire escape and tumbled down the stairs to the second floor, grunting each time she struck a new step. She rolled to her hands and knees and shucked for the next flight without bothering to get up. Her skin was black and curled away from exposed patches of bone and decaying flesh.

  Another zombie crashed through the window, moving at a full sprint and sailing right over the edge of the fire escape. He fell to the alleyway with a scream and hit the bricks with the dry-kindling sound of shattering bone.

  “Stay down, buddy,” grunted Leery, his gaze locked on the zombie coming down to the first-floor fire escape. “You’re busted—literally.”

  The zombie looked down at his shattered legs and groaned. “Very funny.”

  The other zombie paused and glared at Dru, then turned her gaze on Leery. “Oriscoe?”

  “Christ, is that Dee Terry? What have you gotten yourself into?”

  She stood there on the fire escape, her gaze switching to the broken zombie. “Ah, Jack. You’re busted.”

  “In more ways than one,” said Leery. “Come down from there, Dee. Both of you are under arrest.”

  Magical fire flamed out the windows of the apartment upstairs, and a bugge holding an AK-47 flipped over the windowsill and onto the metal grate of the fire escape. He landed with a sickening thump but kept hold of the gun.

  “Dru,” said Leery.

  The bugge rolled to one knee and glared downward. He got his short legs underneath him and stood, his head coming to just above the height of the railing. His thin, greasy hair hung in his eyes, and he brushed it aside with a long-fingered, puss-riddled hand. His pale-yellow eyes flashed on Leery for a moment before settling on Dru. He lifted the rifle to his shoulder and squeezed the trigger.

  Dru mumbled a power word and flung her spell upward. At the same moment, Dee cast herself over the railing of the first-floor fire escape and crashed into a row of garbage cans.

  The spell slammed the bugge into the wall behind him, shimmering and flashing where it contacted his pasty flesh. He screamed and cursed at them, thrashing side-to-side, the AK-47 cartwheeling through the air to land butt-first on the ground next to Jack.

  The zombie lunged at it, sweeping it up like a mother hugging a sick child to her breast.

  “Let ‘em have it, Jack,” said Dee.

  “Dee Terry!” snapped Leery. “What would your mother say?”

  “Who cares?” said Dee. “She’s gone, and I’m still living…well, sort of.”

  The zombie named Jack sat up, grimacing at the mess of his own legs, and shouldered the AK-47.

  Before he could pick a target, Leery’s eyes blazed with yellow-green light and his clothes split down the middle and fell away. Even as his body contorted into werewolf form, he leaped at the zombie, arms thrown wide, mouth open and snarling.

  The zombie, sitting straight up, turned the rifle on him and pulled the trigger. A stream of bullets exploded from the gun’s barrel, but with each round, the barrel moved up and to the right from the recoil, and most of the slugs slammed into the brick wall to Leery’s left.

  Even so, four rounds slammed into Leery’s torso and he howled, his lip curling back in rage. He struck the rifle away and bowled the broken zombie over, sinking his fangs into the dead flesh of the zombie’s arm.

  “Jack!” screamed Dee as she sprang out of the jumble of garbage cans. She ran forward and kicked Leery in the back.

  He snarled and shook his head back and forth. With a sickening pop, Jack’s forearm tore away from his elbow, and the zombie flopped to the side with a groan.

  “Shit!” Jack yelled. “I’m falling apart!”

  Leery flung the forearm away and whirled to his feet, facing Dee, lips curled back from his fangs, a low, prey-freezing growl rumbling in his chest. She backed away as he advanced on her slowly, arms thrown wide, neck hunched toward her, ears flattened against his skull.

  Dru wrote runes in the air. Glaring at Dee, she shouted two words in the Verba Patiendi, and the zombie woman shrieked and wrapped her arms around her chest, squeezing herself tight. She backed away from Leery and pressed herself into the brick wall behind her. He snarled and turned his back on her, glowering at Jack where he lay.

  Another burst of power thrummed from within the apartment on the third floor, and the bugge screeched as it shuddered through him. He writhed against Dru’s spell and began to sing, his sweet, pure voice filling the alley like smoke, overriding the noise from the apartment, the street sounds coming from the mouth of the alley.

  Leery’s ears twitched, then oriented upward. Dru’s gaze snapped to the bugge, going wide. She sketched four runes in the air and connected them with two perpendicular slashes. She shouted a word of power and flung the spell at Leery, who had already started running toward the fire escape.

  He snapped his head toward her, eyes blazing, and roared at her. His eyes rolled in their sockets and saliva drooped from his lips. He staggered sideways, grabbing his skull.

  Jack dragged himself toward the mouth of the alley using his remaining limb, and Dee stumbled after him. The bugge peeled himself away from the wall and hurled himself down the stairs toward the second-floor landing. He smashed his hand through the window and flung himself through the broken pane. Once inside the apartment, he stopped singing.

  Leery shook his head, looked at Dru with wide eyes, and nodded. She pointed toward the mouth of the alley. He spun and charged after the zombies, and Dru followed.

  24

  Leery stood in a corner inside one of the Command, Control, and Communications meeting rooms, wrapped in a blanket, sipping from a huge mug of steaming coffee, and glared at Dee Terry. Dru leaned across the stainless-steel table and put her finger in the zombie’s face.

  “You’d better figure this out, and fast,” Dru snarled. “You’re in a heap of shit here, Terry.”

  “Where is Jack? What have you done to him?”

  “Dee, you’ve got a lot more to worry about than where your undead boyfriend is. Wise up, woman, and start cooperating, or we’ll slap you into the dungeon and let you rot.”

  “Literally,” said Dru with a sneer.

  “But—”

  “No buts, Dee. You’re only getting this chance because our mothers were friends back in the day.”

  The zombie woman dropped her gaze to her lap. “Is he okay? Tell me that much.”

  “You saw the state he was in.” Leery
shrugged and stepped out of the corner. “The good news is that he’s already dead and can’t die again.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Oriscoe. If he gets chopped up enough, he’ll get lost, and if that happens, he’ll never be the same.” She glanced at him, then cut her eyes away. “That’s how she punishes zombies who displease her. She grinds them up and spreads their parts across five states.”

  “Who, Dee?”

  “You know who!” she snapped, slamming her hand into the table.

  “Right, Dee. We already know who you mean, but if you don’t say it, we can’t help you. If you don’t help us, I don’t want to help you.” Leery slurped his coffee and peered at her over its top.

  She slumped and heaved a sigh—which everyone in the room realized was only for effect. She needed to breathe about as much as Dru needed to eat meat. “What do you want to know?” she asked in a dead voice.

  “Start with the name,” said Dru.

  “Fine, but I need protection. And protection for Jack, too.”

  “I’ll do what can be done on your behalf, but only if you talk.” Leery tightened his grip on the blanket. “Now.”

  She stared at him, her mouth twisted in a sneer. “Fine. Rose Marie Van Dee. Happy now?”

  “Far from it. How did you get hooked up with the Van Dee cabal? You came from good people.”

  “Did I?” she sneered and leaned forward. “Then, when I died and awoke like this, where did they go? They shunned me, Leery. I haven’t spoken to anyone in years, because they don’t want anything to do with me.”

  “And you turned to the Zombie Mob to teach them a lesson? You know they’re not really a family, right?”

  “Duh, werewolf. Jack is my family, now.”

  “Jack who?” asked Dru.

  “Jack Barnett.”

  “And what ties does he have with the Van Dees?”

  “He’s nothing but a soldier. Like me.”

  “You sure about that?” asked Dru in a quiet voice.

  Dee shrugged. “What else?”

  “Maybe a street lieutenant?”

  The zombie blew a raspberry. “Yeah, sure.”

  “Hey, somebody was in charge of that apartment. Are you trying to tell us it was you?”

  “The bugge.”

  “Nah. That doesn’t track, Dee.” Leery pulled out the chair opposite from her and sat. “Keep that up, and I’ll bury you in the dungeon and forget you are there.”

  She rolled her eyes, and the dry, raspy sound it made sickened Dru. “Come on, Dee. You don’t owe Rose Marie a single thing.”

  “I know that! But she will grind me to hamburger and distribute my molecules to hell and back.”

  “That’s why you want protection, right? You have to give something to get something.” Dru stood and took Leery’s spot in the corner.

  “You owe me that much, Dee. You and your buddy cost me a set of clothes, a great camel hair coat, and the most comfortable pair of shoes I’ve ever owned.”

  The zombie made a face and looked down at her lap. “Sorry,” she said. “You weren’t supposed to be back there.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “So, get the LM in here, so I can sign whatever I need to sign and start singing.”

  “Hold up. What did you mean, we weren’t supposed to be there?”

  Dee turned her face away. “The hallway.”

  “What about the hallway.”

  “You were supposed to wait in the hall. The alley should have been empty.”

  Leery turned to look at Dru. “Why do you say that, Dee?”

  “Get the LM. I’ll tell you everything, then.”

  “Fine.”

  25

  Angie shivered and pulled her coat tighter against the wind. She climbed up the folding metal steps, and as she reached the top, Leery opened the door, his blanket flapping in the wind. “Uh, am I interrupting something?” she asked with a grin.

  Leery stood in the doorway, blocking her path. “Had to split my clothes. Zombies.” He rolled his eyes skyward. “Hey, before you come in. I know this woman—or I knew her when she was a living, breathing woman. We grew up together.”

  “Is it a problem?”

  “No, not that. But listen, she’s made an allegation. Or at least noises that sound like an allegation.”

  “About?”

  “About a mole in the SWAT team. Or maybe at One Police Plaza.”

  Angie grimaced. “Tell me.”

  “Dru and I went down to cover the alley. That’s how we caught Dee and her little friend, Jack Barnett. She says we weren’t supposed to be there, that we should have been in the hallway.”

  “And who told her that?”

  “She wouldn’t say until she had a deal.”

  “A sentencing deal?”

  “And one for protective custody.”

  Angie puffed out her cheeks. “How many protection deals do we need to give out in this case?”

  Leery stepped back. “I don’t know, counselor. One for every supernatural crook in Manhattan?”

  “The Dark Queen forbid.”

  “Don’t let Dru hear you say that. She’s sensitive.” Leery grinned and stepped back, ushering Angie inside.

  26

  Dru stood in the corner, arms crossed over her breasts, glowering at Dee Terry over Angie and Leery’s heads. The zombie wouldn’t look at her and seemed to have a hard time meeting Angie’s gaze, either.

  “That’s not how this works, Ms. Terry. You have to take it on faith that I will draw up the papers and get them to your magister for his review. It’s not like on television. I don’t carry blank agreements around in my briefcase ready to have your name penned into it at a moment’s notice.”

  “But if I tell you anything, someone in the Van Dee family will get to me—”

  “Yes, I understand you need protection, Ms. Terry. I’ve heard your reasoning, and I agree with you. I will get you your deal, but we need your information now.”

  “Dee,” said Leery. “She’s not pulling a fast one. This is how it works.”

  Dee heaved another sigh.

  “Yes, we know you’re frustrated,” said Angie. “We also know you don’t need to breathe.”

  “Right. But the undead girl has to take everything on faith. You hold all the cards, and I have to talk before you’ll play them.”

  “Anyone who wants a deal speaks first.” Angie shrugged and shoved her legal pad into her bag. “But if you’re not interested…”

  “Okay, okay. But you’re my witness, Oriscoe. You better back me up if she refuses to follow through.”

  Leery drew a deep breath. “She won’t do that, Dee. Not unless you lie or withhold information.”

  “Right. So, yes, I’m a member of the Van Dee Cabal. I’m a soldier, and so is Jack.”

  “Yeah, we heard that before,” said Dru. “Fast forward to the part where you give us useful information.”

  Dee sneered at her and narrowed her eyes. “Ask me what you want to know, then.”

  “Come on, Dee,” said Oriscoe. “Tell us who leaked the raid.”

  The zombie shrugged. “I’m not sure who leaked it, just that we got a call that you were on the way. We were supposed to leave before you arrived, but Jack wanted to take the merchandise, and we needed to get it packed for transport.” She glanced at Leery. “We were told the alley was our escape route.”

  “Who was in charge in the apartment?”

  “Well, Jack was if no one higher up in the family was around.” She scoffed. “Which means he was in charge all the time.”

  Leery glanced at Angie and raised his eyebrows. She waved him on. “Then who did Jack report to? You know, while no one else was around.”

  “A guy in Long Island City. He had a butcher’s shop or something.”

  “I’ll kill him,” muttered Leery.

  “I take it that’s Shuten-doji?” asked Angie in a voice dripping with acid.

  “Got it in one. Tell me his paperwork ha
sn’t gone through, yet.”

  “The ink isn’t even dry.” Angie waved her hand at Dee Terry. “What else?”

  “How does John Michael May fit in Rose Marie Van Dee’s organization?” asked Leery, leaning across the table toward Dee Terry.

  “The guy in the butcher’s shop?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s got ties to Van Dee, but he’s not a zombie, so…”

  “Right. He’s not dead, so he can’t have his badge.”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” said Dee. “He’s got special status, though, because he’s higher up than a lot of other zombies I know.”

  “We’re going to want you to lay out the structure of the Van Dee family,” said Angie. “While you’re doing that, make sure you mark any non-zombies with ties to Van Dee.”

  Dee turned her head to the side and shrugged with one shoulder. “Whatever. It won’t matter.”

  “And why’s that, Dee?” asked Leery.

  “Because she will—”

  “She’s lying,” said Dru.

  Angie half-turned in her chair and glanced back at Dru. “About what?”

  “Most of it, I think. Not about Shuten-doji, he’s definitely in deeper than he let on, but this nonsense about Jack…”

  “Shut your damn mouth!” snapped Dee.

  “And she’s not just some soldier following orders, either.”

  Dee narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Think I’m lying? Prove it.”

  Dru snorted a laugh. “I’m enchanted, dead-girl. Soothsayer rune set. Ever hear of it?”

  “Screw off, you demon bitch,” muttered Dee.

  “Listen, if you’re going to yank our chains, I’ll ship you off right now, Ms. Terry. I’ll include a note in your sheet that you’re never to have contact with this Jack…” She glanced at Leery and beckoned.

  “Jack…” Leery bent and grabbed a loose stack of papers from the floor and rifled through them. “Ah. Here it is. Jackson Barnett.”

  Angie nodded and turned a brutal gaze on Dee. “I’ll make sure you have zero contact with Jackson Barnett. And, I’ll make sure you are put in lockdown.” She smiled, and it seemed as if the temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees. “Think of that deep, dark hole as the grave you evaded, because I’ll bury you in it.”