“Oh,” I said. “Oh, yeah.”
I did as he instructed. A shimmering hole opened in the thick, heavy air and Adan stepped through onto the roof of the truck. He was still wearing the black fatigues and his sword was in his hand. He looked down at the writhing mass of zombies surrounding the truck.
“I told you the brain-scented perfume was a bad idea,” he said.
I laughed. “Do brains even have a scent?”
Adan’s grin turned into a hard line. “To them, maybe. Who are your friends?”
“Ethan and Dylan. They’ve been with me all the way from Huntington Park.”
“Tough kids. Okay, let’s get out of here.”
“What’s the plan?”
“This,” he said. He spread his arms out to his sides, one hand palm-out toward the zombies and his sword held aloft in the other. “Ar shiul,” he shouted, and a ground-level shockwave exploded from our position and expanded like a ripple on the surface of a pond. The zombies swarming the truck were either flattened where they stood or hurled through the air at such speed it was like a gray blur rolling away from us.
I looked around at the destruction. “Holy shit. Is that the sidhe language?”
“Gaelic,” Adan said. “I failed to master the sidhe power words.”
“The Gaelic ones seem pretty good.”
Adan grinned and nodded. “Let’s go.” He reached down and scooped up Ethan in one arm. “Leimim,” he said, and he leaped to the cab and then down to the street. His power words had a real advantage in terms of speed and convenience. My quotations still had more personality, though. I grabbed Dylan and took a running jump from the trailer, then spun my levitation spell and landed easily beside Adan on a small patch of asphalt that wasn’t occupied by fallen zombies.
Adan’s spell had broken the zombies, but it hadn’t destroyed them. As we picked our way through the bodies, they reached for us, grasping at our ankles and clothes. Others crawled or dragged themselves toward us. We cut our way through them with combat and spirit magic and finally reached the freeway overpass. A man was standing on the roof of a car on the far side. He wore a long, leather pimp coat with no shirt underneath and baggy trousers. Heavy gold chains hung from his neck and decorated his bare chest. A Nike flat cap was tugged low on his head and large, gold-rimmed sunglasses hid his eyes. One side of his face was burned black and hairless, and his ear was a fused lump of charred flesh.
It was Simeon Wale.
He held his arms out to his sides and a line of zombies pushed forward, moving between and over the immobilized and abandoned vehicles. He brought his arms down and the zombies stopped, crouching on car hoods or standing stiffly, their limbs trembling with anticipation.
I looked at Wale with my witch sight. “He’s a fucking zombie,” I whispered to Adan. “And he’s still juiced up. How is that possible?”
Adan shook his head. “He’s still got his mind and soul. That’s all he needs.”
“I knew you be coming to the Men’s Room,” Wale said, his voice echoing hollowly under the freeway. “Found you with my seeing words, but couldn’t get here till just now.”
“What do you want, Wale?”
“Thought I might eat you, if that’s okay.”
“Lot of people have tried that, lately,” I said. “No one’s gotten more than a bite of me yet. I’m sorry you died, Wale, but what’s your fucking problem? We can still use you-you can join Anton’s crew.”
“See, that’s just it, I got some workplace resentment. I guess you can see I got my own crew. Don’t want to join Heavy Chevy’s fucking crew. Don’t want you telling me what to do and when. I should have been lieutenant when you got a bump. Only reason I ain’t is you scared of me.”
He grinned, showing me a grill full of gold, diamond-encrusted teeth. “I guess you probably right to be scared of me, though.”
“I don’t have time to kill you right now, Wale. Maybe this can wait until my schedule clears up a little.”
“I guess you got to make time ’cause I’m a hungry mother fucker.”
“You honestly think you can take both Adan and me?”
“Not especially, to tell the truth. That’s why I was real glad to see you got those shorties with you. It was just you and fairy-boy, I probably be in some trouble. But I figure he gonna have to protect them kids, leave you and me to do our thing.”
I glanced at Adan. He raised his eyebrows and gave a little shake of his head. If Wale still had his magic, the only way we could protect Ethan and Dylan was to get them off the battlefield, quickly. I nodded and mouthed the word Go.
I heard Adan’s voice inside my head. “It’s only a few blocks to the club. Stall for time, and I’ll be back.” Then he sheathed his sword and took Dylan from me. “Leimim!” he shouted, and I felt the juice welling up from the street into him. The jump spell carried Adan and the children to the freeway overhead.
I turned and looked back at Wale. He raised his arms again and then brought them down sharply. A terrible cry rolled along the line of zombies and they surged forward. I spun my levitation spell and rose into the air, and the walking dead reached for me, howling in frustration.
Most of them did, anyway. A few of the zombies were Wale’s gangsters and they opened fire. I spun my defensive shield and the hail of bullets filled the air around me with electric-blue starbursts. This was, at best, a temporary counter to the strapped zombies. For one thing, they could probably keep reloading longer than I could keep the shield up. For another, the juice I was putting into the shield was juice I wasn’t using to put the hurt on Wale.
I was on Rashan’s turf, now, and I could reach plenty of juice. I pulled magic out of the tags that scrolled across the blue corrugated fence to my right and the freeway overpass above. “What medicines do not heal, the lance will,” I said. “What the lance does not heal, fire will.” A line of red-orange flame flared to life across the street from curb to curb. I poured juice into it and it grew as if I fed it with gasoline, rising behind me like a curtain that spanned the street. Windows shattered from the heat and the first fuel tank ignited. The resulting fireball was impressive, but I was somewhat disappointed the car wasn’t hurled into the air by the explosion. Hollywood did it better.
The writhing curtain of liquid fire grew to a height of at least fifty feet, and then I released it. Like a tidal wave rolling straight out of hell, it raced forward, flowing harmlessly around my body, and crashed down on the zombies in Wale’s crew. The fire tumbled and splashed like lava coursing through the street and it consumed all it touched, flesh and steel alike. I could hear the zombies’ screams despite the staccato fuel-tank explosions, and I reminded myself that while they were frightened they were beyond the reach of mortal pain.
The dying edges of the fire wave reached far enough to engulf the car Wale was standing on, but he leaped into the air above the flames and hung there. He started hitting me with spontaneous attack spells and all other thoughts fled as I focused on defense. I’d always known Wale had juice. Other than Rashan, he might have been the strongest sorcerer in the outfit. He was fooling himself if he really thought I’d ever been afraid of him, but I’d never trusted him, either. The evil inside him was as easy to see as the magic.
The fact was, I wasn’t sure I could take him. Despite what I knew it would do to me, I would have considered using glamour on him, except I could see he was protected.
I could use my fairy magic to defeat those wards, but I was pretty sure the juice would incapacitate me before I could pull them down. There wouldn’t be any shortcuts or clever angles in this fight. If I wanted to beat Wale, I had to do it straight up. I began alternating between defensive magic and killing magic, spinning the spontaneous spells as quickly as my mind could give birth to them.
As we pulled more and more juice out of the street, the magic began to encroach more forcibly on the physical world. The arcane energies we were harnessing clashed in the space between us, creating a nimbus of shifting colors that
danced and played along the edges of human vision. A sound that began as the soft murmur of the ocean in a sea-shell soon built to the deafening shriek of a jet engine. The nimbus between us went white, blinding in its radiance, and tendrils of ghost-light radiated from the newborn star, crawling over the pavement like spectral serpents.
Cracks appeared in the street and overpass as the concrete and asphalt was torn from within by unseen stresses. The streetlights to either side of us blew out all at once, showering the street with electrical sparks and broken glass. A manhole cover was ripped from its moorings with the sound of a tolling bell and launched into the air on a column of golden light.
The juice burned through me and it felt like the shuddering convulsions of an orgasm as I hurled it into the arcane conflagration. Then I saw Wale falter. He wobbled and dipped a little in the air as his levitation spell weakened and nearly failed. I smiled and pressed the attack, abandoning all but the bare minimum of defense. The brilliant star that turned and pulsed between us began to move, slowly at first and then picking up speed. It moved toward Simeon Wale.
He might have been dead, but Wale wasn’t stupid. Without lowering his magical defenses against my onslaught, he dropped his levitation spell and triggered a jump talisman as soon as his feet hit the pavement. He flipped up and back onto the edge of the freeway overpass, teetering precariously for a moment. “A great flame follows a little spark!” I shouted, and my fireball streaked out and exploded into the side of the bridge. Wale leaped away just ahead of the spell and raced out of sight across the overpass. He moved pretty well for a zombie.
I pushed my levitation spell higher and slowly rose to the overpass. I dropped down on the roof of a U-Haul trailer and looked around. Wale was nowhere to be seen. “It is natural to give a clear view of the world after accepting that it must be clear,” I said, and threw my eye-in-the-sky spell into the air. I sent it racing up about a hundred feet and panned around. Wale was heading west on the freeway, running and leaping along the line of gridlocked cars. He was heading away from the club, but no way was I letting him go.
“The kids are safe,” Adan called inside my head. “Open a gate.”
I almost laughed out loud. “Meep-meep,” I said, and spun my Road Runner spell. I leaped from the trailer over a couple cars onto the hood of an SUV, and then I was off, racing after Simeon Wale across the stalled traffic that stretched before me like stepping stones in a pond.
Adan called again. “Domino, bring me in.” This time I did laugh aloud. “Can’t,” I answered. “Chasing.”
“Chasing? Domino, he could be leading you into a trap.”
I didn’t think Wale had thought that far ahead, but it wouldn’t have changed my mind, anyway. I was high as a hippie at a Grateful Dead show, and I just wanted to run, and jump and rain lethal magic down on Simeon Wale’s head until he was burned to a cinder.
We reached the Central Avenue exit by the time I ran him down. I jumped from a FedEx truck to the top of the exit sign and saw him streaking down the ramp below me. “Vi Victa Vis,” I said, and the force spell knocked him off the ramp and down onto the Sixteenth Street feeder. He pulled himself off the pavement and turned to face me long enough to fire back with an attack spell of his own. I caught it with countermagic and snuffed it out before it even had a chance to form, and then I hit him with another force spell that knocked him across the feeder into a metal fence that topped the low brick wall fronting the street. A section of the fence went down and Wale tumbled through into a small private parking lot.
He tried to drag himself back to his feet, but I guessed enough of Wale’s corpse was broken that even magic couldn’t move it anymore. He struggled for a few seconds, and then collapsed facedown on the pavement. I jumped over the twisted fence and landed beside him. I nudged him with the toe of my boot and rolled him onto his back. He stared up at me with dead, gray eyes.
“Suicide by gangster,” he said, and his laughter was dry and ragged.
“You might have mentioned that’s all you needed from me. It would have wasted a lot less of my time.”
“Wanted to know if I was better than you.”
I shrugged. “You’re not,” I said. “You never were.” I spun my ghost-binding spell and finished the job. thirteen
The ivy covering the beige, synthetic stucco walls of the Men’s Room looked as natural as double-Ds on a hundred-pound stripper. Fortunately, the vines didn’t crawl up to the second story, and the glowing, red-and-silver tag that spelled out the word SANCTUARY was easily visible against the prefabricated drabness. We had muscle in the parking lot and on the roof of the club-it squatted in the shadow of the freeway and that was an obvious angle of attack if any zombies up there got the idea to do a little one-stop grocery shopping.
Inside, the Men’s Room was packed to the lap-dance couches with civilians. I hadn’t seen so many people in the club since a celebrity porn star wiggled through on a special appearance tour. I’d been worried about the mental state of our wards based on what Chavez had said. The juice we were pumping into the club would have been enough to give them a case of the crazies, even without a zombie apocalypse to adjust to. So I was surprised when I walked in the front door and found a fairly respectable party going on.
Chavez had both bars humming like an assembly line. I glanced up at the ticker running over the main bar and quickly saw why-it was advertising free drinks all night. The sound system was cranked up to Armageddon and the stages were crowded ass-to-elbow with naked dancers. Judging by the standards of physical fitness and dancing prowess on display, none of them were professionals.
Adan pushed through the crowd and took my elbow. “You were supposed to gate me back in,” he said, leaning in and shouting in my ear.
“Didn’t really have the time,” I said. “Where are the boys?”
Adan blushed. “I took them back to the dressing room. Some of the girls are looking after them.”
I drew my head back and looked at him. “Are you shy, Adan? They’re just dancers. They’re working their way through college.”
“I’m not shy,” he said. “It’s just…not a lot of experience with human women. It’s different, somehow.”
“Just remember, the club is a lot like the Seelie Court. You got to be able to dance, lie and fight. Well, most of the girls can’t fight for shit.”
Adan grinned. “Let’s go see Chavez.” We walked to the back of the club and up the stairs to the office. Chavez had Rashan’s parchment map of Greater Los Angeles spread out on the desk, the corners weighted down with cell phones. Two dancers stood beside him holding cells in both hands, ready to speed dial or slap a phone against his ear if he got an important call.
“There’s got to be a better way, Chavez,” I said. “You could get one of those headsets. This is embarrassing-it’s like a guy buys a car and then hitches it to his plow horse. No offense, ladies.”
“Chola,” he said, glancing up at me, “we got a major concentration of Zeds moving south out of downtown.”
There were red dots scattered all over the three-dimensional profile of the city superimposed on the parchment.
The clump of dots at Santa Fe and Fourth Street was so large and densely packed it looked like Chavez had gotten a nosebleed.
I nodded at the map. “The bean-sidhe are feeding you the locations?”
“Yeah, we got ’em hooked right into the map. We’re getting updates in real time.”
“Okay, then just send some big hitters over there to clean it up. Where’s Amy Chen’s crew?”
“She’s over in Leimert Park, D. Fucking gentrification, we don’t have the juice boxes there we used to. The civilians are holed up in their churches, and Zed’s hitting them like fucking Oki Dog after last call.”
“Where are Jack and Honey?”
“With Ismail Akeem in Koreatown. The real problem is we got a Stag platoon down there.”
“Why is that a problem? Where are they?”
Chavez reached down and pul
led the three-dimensional image toward him, zooming in on the intersection. There was a tiny clump of blue dots surrounded by all the red ones.
Chavez pointed to an old brick building with green freight doors. “They’re pinned down in the produce warehouse.
They were trying to pull some civilians out of the lofts across the street when Zed overran them. They lost a couple guys, but they were able to pull back in time. Lowell’s leading them and he doesn’t want to call in reinforcements.”
Looking at all the red dots surrounding his position, I couldn’t really blame him. “They can’t shoot their way out?”
“There’s less than thirty of them, chola, and at least five hundred Zeds outside.”
Guess not. “What about the sidhe?”
Chavez snorted. “Oberon is mostly staying in Hollywood and the turf you gave up in South Central. Says his people can’t hack it out in the cold. Anyway, it’s good because he’s taking care of business on his streets.”
I nodded. The fairy king had told me what I could expect. “Where’s Mr. Clean?”
“That scary motherfucker is everywhere, but he ain’t exactly checking in.”
“Okay, Adan and I can go pull the government out of the fire. How’s everything else look?”
Chavez opened his mouth to speak and then spread his arms over the map. “Hell if I know, chola. Maybe better than it was a few hours ago but still not too fucking good? It’s like you said-it’s a numbers game and I always copied off you in math class.”
“Fuck that, Chavez, we both copied off your girlfriend.”
“Oh, yeah.” His eyes drifted away and a little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “What was her name, chola?”
“Their name was Maria.”
“That’s right. Las Tres Marias. They were good at math.”
“So you’re telling me you don’t know if we’re winning.”
“I’m telling you I don’t even know when I’ll know. When there’s no more red dots on the map, I guess. It goes like this for a while and you think you’re getting ahead of it, and then a Zed pack gets inside an apartment building or a hotel or something, and if we don’t get there fast enough the map starts lighting up again.”
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