Zombies Sold Separately

by Cheyenne McCray

  His fingers were stained brown and green and he held a paintbrush in his left hand. Behind him I saw a tall painting of a Siren in song. The Siren had a slight greenish tint to her skin like my friend Nadia had when she was in full song. The painting was so lifelike and looked so much like Nadia, gorgeous thick red hair and all.

  Behind it were at least a dozen paintings lining the plain white walls, leaning up against the red couches, and any other available space in the somewhat sterile room. Mostly outdoor scenes with meadows, lakes, mountains, forests.

  “I’m in the middle of a thought and I need to get back to my painting until the thought is on canvas.” His accent sounded Scottish yet not.

  He turned away. “Allow me a few—”

  The moment I followed him through the doorway the warding bells jangled like crazy. The door slammed behind me and I heard all three locks click or bolt into place.

  Desmond whirled to face me, his hands raised. Green electrical currents sizzled and snapped from paint-stained fingertip to fingertip. His paintbrush hit the wood floor and rattled as it rolled away.

  My heart pounded and I got ready to throw an air shield around me. I should have expected this.

  His eyes looked wild and it passed through my mind that I might be facing a crazed being.

  “What are you?” His words came out like he was gritting his teeth, as if holding onto his magic like trying to rein in a horse with a piece of ribbon.

  “I’m Drow.” I kept very still as I spoke and clenched the strap of my purse. “My real name is Nyx Ciar.”

  “Dark Elves cannot come out in the light. Yet my magic tells me you are speaking the truth.” Desmond looked incredulous. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

  Rather than go into details immediately, I just said, “The Magi sent me to find a Sorcerer named Desmond. So here I am.”

  “The Magi?” The look of disbelief on his features was even stronger now. “Why would the Magi send Elves to me, much less one of the Dark Elves?”

  A spark of anger stirred in me. Bigot.

  I held back from gritting my own teeth. “I don’t know why the Magi think you can help us but that’s why I’m here.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “What do you mean us?”

  “My partner should be here any moment now.” I should have waited for Olivia. Although maybe not. She didn’t take well to being threatened, by magic or by any other means. “She’s human and her name is Olivia. We’re private investigators.”

  The Sorcerer had backed up so that there was about five feet between us now. He hadn’t lowered his hands. “A human?”

  “Yes.” I still hadn’t moved, afraid he’d shoot me with a little green bolt if I did. Maybe a big green bolt.

  The electrical sizzle between his fingers went away. “Why not?” he said, gesturing with his hands while he spoke. “Why not send the whole damned city here?”

  I relaxed a little. “I—”

  A loud knock at the door cut me off and the Sorcerer raised his hands. Electricity crackled again. “Get out of my way.”

  “Yes, sir,” I mumbled and moved aside from the door.

  The Sorcerer flicked his fingers in the air and the locks undid themselves one at a time. He used his magic to open the door, staying a good ten feet away. His hands were in a ready position, but the electrical charge seemed to be in the “off” position.

  The door swung open and Olivia stood in the hallway. A startled expression crossed her features, which surprised me. Very little caught Olivia off guard. The look vanished.

  “You didn’t wait for me,” she said and took a step forward.

  The warding bells went totally nuts. I would have chocked it up to the handgun holstered at her side underneath her Mets jacket, but there was something about the ferocity in the way the bells rang.

  “No!” Desmond shouted.

  The door slammed in Olivia’s face. Every one of the locks slid into place.

  “What the hell?” Olivia pounded on the door. “Let me in,” came her muffled voice, “or I swear I’ll take this door down.”

  Desmond whirled to face me. “You brought one of them here. To my sanctuary. What have you done?”

  Stunned, I looked from the Sorcerer to the door and back. “What’s going on? That’s my partner, Olivia. She was an NYPD cop. She’s one of the good guys.”

  “She’s evil.” Desmond said in a growl. “They got to your partner.”

  “What?” I repeated, dumfounded.

  “Twenty years I’ve been safe, then you show up at my door.” Desmond turned away and rushed to a closet, jerked the doors open. He yanked a Yankees sweatshirt over his head and slid on a pair of hiking boots, no socks. “We must get out of here before they come.” He pulled on a jacket but didn’t bother to zip it.

  The Sorcerer grabbed a worn leather messenger bag from the closet floor and slung it across his body. “This place has been compromised.” He paused just long enough to glare at me and say, “Thanks to you and the Magi.”

  I followed him as he jogged to a window. “I don’t understand.”

  The lock flicked open on the windowsill and the window rose without him touching it. Cold air flooded the formerly warm room, making goose bumps pebble my skin.

  Desmond paused to look at me as he stuck one leg through the window so that he was straddling the windowsill. “If you want to live, you’d better come with me.”

  “Are you nuts?” I pointed back to the door. “That’s my partner and one of my best friends. She’s not some evil being sent here to destroy you, or whatever it is you think she’ll do.”

  “They got to her.” Desmond’s gaze flicked to the door. I glanced at it, too, and I saw it shake from the force of the pounding against it. The Sorcerer looked back to me. “Her body is a Host now. It may appear it is her, but who she is no longer exists in this Otherworld.”

  My head was nearly spinning with confusion.

  A Sorcerer who I’d been sent to by the Magi was acting like a madman and he was trying to get me to climb out onto a fire escape several stories above concrete and asphalt.

  My best friend was pounding on the door and yelling that she was going to break it down. She was only five-two but I wouldn’t put it past her level of abilities.

  The Sorcerer had said Olivia’s body was a Host now. That person outside the door wasn’t really her. The warding bells had gone nuts the moment she tried to cross the threshold.

  The Magi had said to bring her with me.

  Was this why? To find out the truth about Olivia? She’d been late getting back from Christmas vacation and I hadn’t pushed her on the reason.

  But she’d seemed so normal.

  “Come on, now.” Desmond held out his hand, looking frantic and concerned all at one time. “This might be your and the Magi’s fault, but I can’t just leave you. Get out here. Hurry!”

  The door exploded inward.

  Wood scattered across the room.

  A huge piece, the part with the doorknob and locks, flew at me.

  I threw up an air shield just in time and the wood rebounded off the shield, straight back at Olivia who’d just bolted into the room.

  The warding bells started jangling again, rising in the air instead of lying flat against the wall.

  “Nyx!” Olivia ducked under the flying debris and ran toward me.

  Desmond grabbed me by the back of my coat and yanked me hard, away from Olivia. He’d come back through the window to get me.

  “What’s going on, Nyx?” Olivia looked genuinely confused, hurt even, as I stumbled back.

  That wasn’t the way Olivia would normally act. No, she’d get pissed before she’d act hurt or confused.

  He was right. This wasn’t really Olivia and we needed to get out of here.

  I let Desmond grab my hand and draw me back. Before I could get to the window, Olivia lunged for my purse. Jerked me toward her when she tried to yank it out of my hand.

  The stones. She w
anted the stones.

  Two males and one female ran into the loft, dodging jagged pieces of shattered wood jutting out from the doorframe. The warding bells jangled with such ferocity that I could barely hear.

  “Sentients.” Desmond snarled from behind me and I heard the sizzle and crackle of his magic.

  I tried to yank my purse away from Olivia but she was strong. As strong as the Sentients had been that Colin and I had fought off just last night.

  I gathered my air magic and blasted it at her. Olivia gasped and tried to take a breath but my magic hit her too hard. She lost her grip and stumbled backward into the easel with the painting of the Siren.

  The easel collapsed. Olivia’s feet tangled with the easel’s legs. She landed on top of the painting, her well-rounded rear end going right through the canvas.

  My chest ached. Instinct to help my friend warred with the realization that it wasn’t really her.

  And the Sentients—the Magi had said we couldn’t kill them or the Hosts.

  I knew what I needed to do. Capture Olivia and the other Sentients, take them to the PTF detention center until we could figure out what was going on.

  Olivia got to her feet.

  The Sentients rushed toward me and Desmond.

  I gathered my elements. Prepared to throw up a shield of protection until I figured out how to contain the Sentients and Olivia.

  The room crackled with magic. Electricity snapped through the air, green currents bouncing from object to object.

  My scalp prickled and hair rose on my arms. It was like being in the middle of a lightning storm, tension in the air gathering and gathering until I felt squeezed by it.

  Desmond was going to fry the Sentients and Olivia with his magic.

  My eyes widened as I shouted, “No—”

  The power of the explosion of magic threw me back. My head hit the wall. My purse landed on the wood floor with a loud thump. Stars sparked behind my eyes.

  I scrambled to my feet and came to a sudden stop. A cry of horror and disbelief rose up inside of me.

  The three Sentients and Olivia were sprawled on the floor.

  Dead.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Eyes wide open and sightless.

  Chests not moving to draw in breaths.

  Limbs at odd angles.

  The Sentients and Olivia’s Host body were dead.

  “No!” I screamed.

  I whirled to face the Sorcerer, drew my arm back, and punched him. He brought his hand to his jaw as I shouted, “You killed them. You’re not supposed to kill them!”

  Desmond raised his hands to ward me off. “They’re not dead.”

  I held my arm up, ready to punch him again. “They sure look dead to me.”

  “It’s a spell.” Desmond grasped my arm. “More Sentients may come. We need to leave.”

  “Oh.” I looked at them again. “Are you sure? Will they recover completely?”

  “Yes, they will be fine.” Desmond tugged me toward the window again. “I swear by all that is magic that I will leave you here to face them alone if you do not come with me now.”

  I had to talk with the Sorcerer. He seemed to know a lot about about these Sentients and Hosts. And then there was the fact that the Magi had sent me to him. No, I couldn’t let Desmond leave without me.

  “I need to call Rodán and the PTF to clean this up and take the Sentients and—” I scooped up my purse and glanced at Olivia’s body, a lump rising in my throat. “—take my partner to the infirmary.”

  “Make it fast,” Desmond said as I drew out my phone. “The spell will not last over an hour.”

  The phone was ringing for Rodán as I said, “More than enough.”

  Rodán answered and I told him, “I don’t have time to talk. I’m with the Sorcerer and we have three Sentients captured who need to be taken in to custody.”

  “Where?” Rodán asked.

  “The Sorcerer’s loft.” I told him the location then said, “I don’t understand it, but they got to Olivia. Desmond said her body is a Host now. I have to find out what is going on and he seems to have some answers. He’s leaving and I’m going with him. He’s concerned more Sentients will get here soon. Olivia will appear and act like Olivia, but it’s not really her.”

  “Call me when you have additional information,” Rodán said. “The PTF, Lulu, and a team of Trackers are on their way.”

  I didn’t ask how he’d managed to contact them all with the information while talking with me, and how he could know that they were coming.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Call me as soon as you know more,” Rodán said.

  “I will.” I hung up, slipped my phone into my belt, and took one last look at Olivia. Her neck was twisted and I was afraid it was broken. I could see a crescent-shaped burn mark behind her left ear. Had Desmond’s magic done that?

  “Are you sure they’re okay?” I asked the Sorcerer. “What if more Sentients get here before our people?”

  “They’re fine, you have my word.” Desmond jerked me harder toward the window and this time I ran with him. “I’m sure your Tracker team can handle anything they come across.”

  How had he known that they were even coming? Maybe Sorcerers had exceptional hearing. Or it was a good guess.

  The icy wind stung my cheeks and the iron railings were cold beneath my palms as we rushed down the fire escape. I kept my purse with the stones pressed close to my side. Metal clanged beneath his boots and his messenger bag bounced at his side as he rushed down.

  When we reached the final rung, the Sorcerer grasped it, swung, and landed with surprising litheness and grace. After all of the noise he’d made getting down I thought he might fall on his butt.

  I landed in a crouch next to him on the side of the building.

  Thoughts of Olivia kept bombarding me. How could that have not been Olivia? I’d talked with her. She knew details about things that no one could fake. She acted and looked like Olivia. How had some being taken her over like that without me even knowing?

  I ached. Had I lost my friend forever? Was she really gone?

  Desmond let out a shrieking whistle as a taxi zipped by. The cab came to a screech and a halt and backed up in reverse so quickly that it was as if a pulley was drawing it to us.

  The Sorcerer grabbed my hand again and we ran toward the cab. I got in and slid onto the bench seat on the passenger side and Desmond ran around to the other side.

  We both slammed our doors shut and Desmond said, “JFK.”

  “What?” I seemed to be saying that a lot today. “We’re not going to the airport.”

  “Trust me,” he said.

  “Should I trust you?” I asked.

  “If you want to know what’s going on and have a chance to stop it then yes,” he said. “And just maybe you’ll be able to restore your friend.”

  My stomach clenched. “Restore Olivia?” I grasped his arm. “Is that possible? Restore her from what?”

  “I’ll explain,” Desmond said. “Once we get to my safe house.”

  The cab driver maneuvered the taxi through heavy traffic. I turned enough that Desmond and I could face each other.

  “Who are you?” I said. “What do you know about Sentients and Hosts and how did you know they would come after us? How do you know we can save Olivia?”

  Desmond glanced at the blond cab driver who had a goatee along with dreadlocks beneath a skull cap that had red, green, yellow, and black stripes around it.

  The Sorcerer raised his fingers and I saw a shimmer in the air as if a window had been raised between us and the driver. Desmond had put up a shield. A green spark snapped in the air where the shield was.

  He met my gaze. “I know everything. That is why the Magi sent you.”

  “Well, good.” I settled my purse in my lap. “Now you can tell me.”

  Desmond pushed his wavy shoulder-length, wild hair away from his face. Wild looked good on him. His gray eyes had calmed considerably, and I had no i
dea why except that perhaps he had accepted the situation for whatever he thought it might be.

  “Like I said, once we get to the safe house it will be easier to explain to you,” he said.

  “Safe house?” I glanced out the car and saw that we were well on our way to the airport. “We’re not flying anywhere,” I said again. “We’re staying right here in New York.”

  “Of course.” He looked out the back window. “But we’re going to make sure we’re not being followed.”

  I blinked. “Okay.”

  Desmond didn’t seem inclined to talk so the trip was mostly silent. I kept thinking about Olivia and all that had been happening. It was getting beyond crazy. Out of control.

  We changed taxis at JFK, then headed for downtown Manhattan. Desmond gave a Greenwich Village address.

  “That’s practically around the corner from your loft,” I said.

  He nodded. “That’s why we needed to make sure we weren’t followed.”

  Made sense in a convoluted way, I supposed. There would have been easier, faster ways to do the same thing.

  It was so close to sunset that I was afraid I was going to have to stop the cab in the middle of the street and run for some place safe to shift.

  The taxi stopped on MacDougal Street in Greenwich Village. The cabbie parked beneath a big restaurant sign with neon green lettering, directly across the street from a tavern with a red awning.

  Because I didn’t have time to wait for Desmond to root around in one of his pockets again for cash, I threw a couple of bills in the direction of the driver and scrambled out of the cab.

  I grabbed Desmond’s arm, dragged him after me, and rushed toward a nearby building. “We need to make a stop,” I said as I pulled him down an empty stairwell of a closed business that might have been a restaurant at one time.

  It was impossible to tell by sight because of the gray skies, but the tingling beneath my skin told me the sun was about to set.

  Desmond resisted. “My safe house—”

  I used my Drow strength, catching him off guard, and jerked him into the darkness. He almost tumbled down the stairs.

  “Turn your back and stand right there.” I ground my teeth as the change started. “I have to shift and I’m not doing it with an audience.”