Dead Ice

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  Manny answered and I let him. "Anyone who was a priest or priestess in real life of any religion is a question mark, but if they were voodoo practitioners then you don't raise them from the dead, ever. Any psychic abilities, a witch, sorcerer, anyone who was involved in a supernatural event while alive is iffy and best avoided."

  I was wondering where Nicky was with the extermination crew. They'd have flamethrowers and the protective suits that went with them; if Warrington came out of the grave still ravenous we'd need them. Nicky had gone up to the main road to lead the crew back to us. He had also made sure that all three of us ate a protein bar from the stash Nathaniel had started putting in my car. It wasn't dinner, but it helped to keep us from having the blood sugar crashes that could make me drain energy from the people I was connected to metaphysically. The grave diggers had already gotten lost and had to reload the backhoe back on their truck once and drive to the right location, which had taken time we didn't have. We had to dig the grave up before dawn or the zombie might be dead to the world because it was dawn, and we still wouldn't know what happened once darkness fell inside his coffin. His--there, I'd thought it again; even though he was a zombie, a fleshcraving zombie, there was enough mind left that he was still Warrington to me. He could still be down there thinking and feeling, and I had to know before I walked away tonight; I had to know.

  I stared off into the darkness and wondered again where Nicky was, and . . . It was as if the energy had changed in the cemetery just since earlier tonight. It had that feeling that places get sometimes when people have been performing rites that can affect the sanctity of holy ground, or as if something metaphysical has happened between one visit and the next.

  "Do you feel it, Manny?" I asked.

  "Feel what?" he asked.

  "The cemetery had better energy earlier tonight."

  "I haven't been to this one before, but a lot of the older cemeteries feel like this, Anita."

  "I swear it didn't earlier tonight."

  "Or maybe you just feel guilty," he said.

  "What do you mean, it feels different?" Zerbrowski asked.

  "Sometimes older graveyards can sort of run out of holiness," I said.

  "If they haven't had a new grave and funeral in a long time, it's as if the holy ground doesn't last," Manny said.

  "So this is no longer holy ground?" Zerbrowski asked.

  Manny made a waffling gesture with his hand.

  "A priest can do one quick ceremony, basically walk the boundaries with holy water, or another funeral could fix it," I said.

  "Ghouls can disrupt holy ground," Manny said.

  I shook my head. "I think the holy wears off and then some of the bodies rise as ghouls."

  "Wait, what?" Zerbrowski asked.

  "Ghouls are the most mysterious undead, and there's a debate even among animators and witches whether ghouls move into a graveyard and somehow damage the sanctity of it, or if ghouls only crawl out of the graves once the holy ground is no longer holy."

  "Sort of a 'which came first, the chicken or the egg' debate," Zerbrowski said.

  "Exactly," I said.

  "It's the one kind of undead I've never seen," he said.

  Manny said, "They're harmless cowards. You say boo, and they hide."

  I looked at him. "If you believe that, then you've only seen regular ghouls."

  "Ah, I forgot, you've seen them when they turn predatory," he said.

  "I'm sensing a split decision here," Zerbrowski said.

  "Manny's right about most ghouls. They're just scavengers that build tunnels underneath the graves and come up underneath to feed, at first. In fact, the first thing that usually clues a caretaker in that there's an infestation is a few scattered bones, or a grave collapses into the tunnels."

  "Or they dig too close to a gravestone and it falls over, or into the tunnels," Manny added.

  "Yeah, and the main complaint is that people don't like the idea of their loved ones getting munched on in their graves."

  Zerbrowski made a face. "I bet. Nothing like coming to put flowers on Grandma's grave and discovering she's been scattered all over the place like dog food."

  I smiled and shook my head. "Yeah, something like that. They call in an exterminator team to fill the tunnels with fire during daylight, and whoosh, no more problem. Usually."

  "What happens if it's not usual?" he asked.

  "They're always faster, smarter, and less physically fragile than zombies. They don't rot. Bullets hurt them but don't stop them. I've heard of them getting hit by big trucks, so they can be killed if you can crush them thoroughly enough, but it's hard to accomplish without the truck. Set them on fire and they burn like vampires, which means really well."

  "I've seen a couple of vamps afterward; they go up like kindling if you add an alcoholic drink to them for a starter fluid."

  I agreed. "But it doesn't matter how hard they are to kill, most of the time. They seem to be afraid of people, just like Manny said."

  "Drop the other shoe, Anita, I know there is one."

  "Once they've cleaned out the bodies in the cemetery and don't have any food to scavenge, they can start being more active hunters," Manny said.

  "Define active."

  "If a drunk passes out, or someone injures himself and can't get away, then they'll become a danger," he said.

  "I think they'll always take an injured or incapacitated person; anything that they feel isn't a threat to them is food," I said.

  "There's nothing in the literature that says that," Manny said.

  "I've been up against ghouls that were real active, Manny, and I just don't believe anything that's that good at killing and eating people doesn't do it when they get the chance."

  "Those are aberrant cases, Anita."

  "Yeah, but all it takes is one aberrant case to kill your ass."

  "So animators can't control them like zombies; they're more like vampires."

  "Yeah," I said. In my head I thought, I'd known one animator who could control them, but he'd been mostly dead himself, so I wasn't sure it counted.

  "There are legends of those who had enough ability to control all undead, even vampires, but Anita is the closest we have to the necromancers of yore. If she can't control them, then they can't be controlled."

  "You're such a brute," Zerbrowski said.

  I shrugged.

  "Wait, you said they're stronger than zombies, who are already stronger than us. Aren't there any undead that aren't stronger than humans?"

  We both shook our heads. "Though they did some experiments on zombies, and it turns out they may not actually be stronger than people," I said.

  "How so?"

  "Zombies just have no stop on using all their strength at once. It's like how a baby will use everything it has to kick a blanket off, but as you get older you use the effort needed, not all your effort together. Until by the time you're grown up you sort of forget you have more strength available to you--until an emergency happens."

  "Like grannies lifting cars off their grandkids," Zerbrowski offered.

  "Yeah, like that."

  "So if people knew how to automatically use all our strength, we could be lifting cars all the time?"

  "That's one theory," I said.

  "Remember before you try lifting a car that zombies will also tear their own arms off trying to lift something too heavy for them," Manny said.

  "That's true. Zombies, just like babies, don't seem to understand that even if you can lift something, it doesn't mean your body can handle the load," I said.

  "Hanging around you is like the Discovery Channel for monsters sometimes; I always learn something new."

  The grave diggers had moved in with tools to help loosen the tombstone, but they were gesturing at the backhoe for some reason, even though they weren't ready for it yet. "What are they doing?" I asked.

  "I think they're trying to use the backhoe to move the tombstone," Zerbrowski said.

  "How can you possibly know t
hat from here?"

  "I speak guy hand gestures," he said with a completely deadpan face.

  I might have argued with him, but Domino came back to report that was exactly what they were talking about doing. The tombstone was solid marble and taller than I was, so it was heavy and unwieldy. The two men they'd sent couldn't lift it by themselves.

  "Can I offer that Nicky and I help them, or do you not want them to know that we're stronger than the average human?"

  "Offer. We're running out of moonlight."

  "Besides, they'll take one look at Mr. Muscles and totally believe he could lift it by himself," Zerbrowski said.

  I gave him a look. "Mr. Muscles, really?"

  He gave a head nod like he was pointing with it. "Look at that silhouette and argue with me if you can."

  I looked where he'd gestured, to find Nicky outlined by the moonlight and the floodlights that the diggers were setting up. Some trick of the light and shadow made his shoulders look even more massive than they already were, so he was proportioned like some cartoon strongman.

  "Okay, I see your point."

  "You know me, I try to make my irritating nicknames accurate." He smiled at me.

  I rolled my eyes at him, and he grinned.

  "You are incorrigible."

  "It's one of his charms," Nicky said as he walked up to us, stepping out of the light show and into the darkness near us so his shoulders were just their normal impressive spread, not the caricature that had made Zerbrowski comment.

  As if he'd read my mind, he said, "I still stand by the nickname."

  "What nickname?" Nicky asked.

  "Mr. Muscles," Zerbrowski said, grinning up at him.

  Nicky frowned at him, just a little. "I've been called worse."

  "You know you're no fun to tease, right?"

  "People have mentioned it before," Nicky said, face totally serious. It had taken me a little while to realize that Nicky being very serious and pretending not to get Zerbrowski's jokes was actually his way of teasing the man back. The fact that Zerbrowski hadn't quite figured out that Nicky was teasing him was part of the joke. I'd never seen anyone else get the better of him when it came to that kind of teasing. That it was Nicky who had figured it out was interesting, and had totally surprised me. I sort of liked that he could surprise me that much.

  He surprised me again by leaning over for a kiss. I didn't do that in front of the police much; it ruined my image as one of the guys. I debated on letting him know it wasn't okay, but it just seemed wrong to lean away from someone you were in love with, so I kissed him back.

  "Well, la-di-da, does Count Dracula know?"

  "And this is why I don't kiss my boyfriends in front of the other cops," I said, with my hand still on the swell of Nicky's arm.

  "It's just Zerbrowski," Nicky said, "he doesn't count."

  Zerbrowski stared up at him openmouthed for a second, then burst out laughing.

  Nicky finally let himself smile at the other man, because just that one dry comment had ruined the deadpan joke. Zerbrowski knew he'd been had and was enjoying the hell out of it.

  I asked Nicky if he thought he and Domino could help the grave diggers move the tombstone. He said, "Sure."

  "You're a man of few words, Muscles, but I like you."

  "I don't hate you either," Nicky said, and turned before Zerbrowski could see the smile that went with the words. That set Zerbrowski back on another laughing jag.

  The extermination team came up in their shiny silver suits with their hoods under their arms. "Hey, Eddie, Susannah," I said.

  Eddie asked, "What's so funny?"

  For some reason that made Zerbrowski laugh even harder. "Ignore him," I said. "Thanks for coming down on short notice."

  Eddie smiled. He was broader than when I'd met them six, seven years ago. He was also completely bald now, the gray butch cut gone. "Hey, it beats the heck out of hunting possible wererat infestations in the walls of some family's house in the city."

  "You know that wererats are the size of large dogs and won't fit inside a normal wall, right?"

  "I know that, and you know that, but the people who get all freaked out and call us for it don't."

  "We try to tell them the truth, but they never believe us, and their money spends," Susannah said. She was Eddie's daughter and must have looked like her mom, because she was a little taller than me, still short, a little more muscled and less thin than when we'd met on her very first night on the job. She'd put on muscle so she could handle the equipment better, and because she'd asked me what I did to make the men respect me more. Easy answer is hit the gym and make sure you can handle yourself physically. Nothing screams weak like not being able to pull your weight on the job.

  I smiled back. "I hear that."

  Eddie excused himself to go talk to the grave diggers about what would need to happen if they had to use the flamethrowers. They used what amounted to napalm, so that it burned and kept burning. You really didn't want to take collateral damage.

  Now that her dad was gone, Susannah's eyes flicked up Nicky in that long sweep that goes from the feet to the top of the head like you're wondering what the person would be like out of their clothes. She hadn't seen him bend down for the kiss or she wouldn't have done it. I'm not saying she wouldn't have speculated, but she would have been polite enough not to let me see her doing it. It's okay to look at someone's boyfriend and wonder; you just keep it to yourself and don't act on it, ever.

  Once upon a time, I'd hidden how many men were in my life, partially out of embarrassment and a lack of comfort with my own lifestyle. The other part had been because cops treat women who sleep around differently than they treat those who don't--unfair, but true. But my hiding my love life too well had led to Detective Jessica Arnett having a serious crush on Nathaniel and feeling like I'd let her make a fool of herself over my boyfriend. I didn't work with Susannah all that often, but I still didn't want a repeat of the issue.

  I took Nicky's hand and said, "Did Nicky introduce himself?"

  She glanced down at the hand holding. "Got his name, and that he was with you, but not that he was 'with' you." She made little quotes around with.

  "Just wanted to make sure you don't waste energy in Nicky's direction, that's all."

  "Good to know." Then she frowned. "But I thought you were engaged to Jean-Claude?"

  "I am."

  She looked at Nicky and then back at me, raising both her eyebrows in a question.

  "Jean-Claude knows all about Nicky."

  "And he's okay with it?"

  "Yep."

  "Very understanding fiance you have there," she said.

  "I'm one of Jean-Claude's blood donors," Nicky said.

  I fought to keep my face blank and pleasant, because he'd just lied. He had a very serious rule that he didn't donate body fluids to anyone. He fed the ardeur for me and only me, period. So why had he told Susannah otherwise?

  "Ah," she said, and you could just see her interest fade. His being my lover hadn't really dimmed her speculation, but find out he gave blood to Jean-Claude and she was done. Again, why? I felt like I'd missed something important in the last few minutes, but I'd have to wait for alone time with Nicky to have him explain it to me. Weird having to have a sociopath explain social interaction, but I was lost and he wasn't. He'd gotten the results he wanted out of the exchange, and I had no idea why, or what, but the way he stood next to me, hand in mine, let me know that he was satisfied with what had just happened. Nice someone was.

  I held his hand and smiled and vowed to ask him later.

  Domino motioned from near the grave. Nicky kissed me and then went off to help move the grave marker.

  "Thanks for letting me not waste my time, Anita; I appreciate it."

  "Not a problem."

  She smiled then. "But if you know anyone else who's built along the same lines and isn't involved, let me know."

  "Aww, I'm not your type," Zerbrowski said, making a fake pouty face exaggerated
enough to show in the dim light.

  "Sorry, Sergeant, but I don't go for middle-age leches who are happily married."

  "Ouch, it's the middle-aged comment that hurts; the rest of it is just true." He grinned at her.

  "I'll keep my eyes peeled for anyone who looks like Nicky but isn't taken," I said.

  "Thanks, you seem to have the best luck finding men who will commit and share. Most of us can't even find one who isn't a bastard."

  "I've had some men who were pretty rotten to me, but usually it's as much me as them when it all goes to hell."

  She gave me the look that other women had given me before when I opted out of doing the "all my exes suck and I have absolutely nothing to do with the fact that my love life sucks" thing. I'd found that most relationships worked because everyone worked at it; it was a group effort even if only two people were involved.

  "Either you've never had anyone hurt you that badly, or you are a saint."

  "Anita's had her share of bad ones," Zerbrowski said.

  "She confides in you?"

  He put his arm across my shoulders and did a brotherly hug. "We share all our girly secrets," he said.

  Manny had to walk away trying to turn his laugh into a cough.

  I realized that Zerbrowski was trying to help me out of another social minefield, which meant he didn't think I could get out on my own, which might be true. Also he didn't entirely like Susannah. That I hadn't known. I filed it under I'll ask them later and said, "All our girly secrets."

  Susannah laughed. "I don't even believe you have girly secrets, Anita."

  I shrugged, smiled, and bumped the fist that Zerbrowski offered. Then he looked past me and something made his eyes widen, made him look surprised. I pushed away from the hug, bringing the shotgun around, thinking I'd let myself get distracted from the business at hand, and . . . there wasn't anything to shoot. The ground was still untouched. They'd even turned off the backhoe so we could hear the distant sound of late-season crickets, so what had surprised my partner?

  They'd managed to get the tall obelisk gravestone out of the ground where it had been placed centuries ago. I think the two grave diggers and my guys had been walking it back, but Nicky had gotten impatient. He had it in his arms like he was hugging it, except he had one hand clasped over the other wrist, which let me know it was even heavier than it looked. He'd taken off his jacket so that his weapons were visible, and so were the muscles in his arms as he walked away from the grave with the stone.