I was interrupted from wallowing in it by a call from Abe. He wanted to see me at his place right away. It sounded bad.
Chapter Four
Abraham Lincoln Jones was born in 1863 on the day after the Emancipation Proclamation had freed all slaves. His mother had named him after the president who was responsible for her son’s new freedom.
After that, he’d remained in the South following the Civil War, and his mother’s death. He ended up in New Orleans where he fell in love with a witch, or a voodoo priestess—depending on who was telling the story. She loved him too, and wanted to keep him with her forever. She accomplished this by making him her zombie slave.
The tale continued that she killed him, and then brought him back to life. He’d served her for a hundred years, doing all kinds of unspeakable things to her enemies.
One day, he got tired of being her slave, (or he found her with another zombie?) and he killed her. He put his big hands around her throat and squeezed. When she was gone, she had no hold over him.
I should mention that Abe has never told me this story. Supposedly, bits and pieces of it have filtered out through the years and been passed down by the people he rescued from death to serve him.
I admit that it sounds a little fantastic. But I can’t question Abe’s power, or his magic. One minute, I was lying in a hospital bed, broken so badly that the doctors said I couldn’t be fixed. Abe put his tattoo on the heel of my foot—after I’d signed his service agreement for twenty years—and I got up and went home.
You’d think, after being alive so long, that Abe would have ended up in some dark underground spot in New York or Paris. It seemed more fitting than Nashville to me. I’d heard him speak of living all over the southern U.S. Maybe he couldn’t bring himself to live in colder, northern lands.
Instead, he hung out at a tattoo place called Devil’s Ink. He lived upstairs in the old, two-story brick building. When I was a kid, there’d been a dress shop downstairs. I remember shopping there with one of my foster moms.
I had never been upstairs where Abe lived. He had an office behind the tattoo area where he talked to his zombies, and sent them out on assignments. Most of the time he used his favorite possession—his cell phone. Sometimes I didn’t have to go in for a month.
The front space was always full of zombies and humans, getting tattoos and showing off the ones they had. That day was no different. It didn’t seem to matter what time of the day or night I went there, the front area was always full.
Besides the tattoo on my heel, I wasn’t interested. I admit that the colorful dragons and symbols were impressive. It just wasn’t something I wanted to do.
“Hey.” Rocky nodded at me. He was a big man with hundreds of tattoos all over him. He was a zombie too. It seemed that his service was putting tattoos on people for Abe. I always wondered if he’d been the one who tattooed my foot. I couldn’t really remember.
“Abe here?”
He puffed on a cigarette, and pointed toward the back office. “I think he’s waiting for you.”
“What did you do this time, Skye?” Dex, a zombie with bad hair, taunted.
“Probably more than you can imagine.” I smiled, and headed toward the back.
Dex and Rocky had some other stupid remarks they hurled at me. I didn’t care. I’d heard much worse. Sometimes I wished I could knock their heads together because they were annoying as all get-out. Mostly I repeated my mantra: keep a low profile, do your job, and go home.
There were other men—some good-looking and muscular—sitting around. Their eyes suggestively followed me. Maybe all the things I’d been through in the last two years had left their mark on me. I never thought about whether or not I was attractive anymore, or thought about taking a lover.
The men, and zombies, were never my type. I wasn’t really sure anymore if I had a type. I hadn’t felt anything for anyone but Kate since Jacob had died. It was possible I was incapable of it, like not feeling cold and not sleeping. The only passion I had was for my job and my daughter.
I opened the last door in the back hallway. Abe was at his desk, like always, a mound of paperwork and magical charms stacked in front of him.
“There you are.” He pyramided his hands together, and grinned at me. “I told Dex this morning that you do such a wonderful job for me. I appreciate you, Skye.”
His voice was as dark and deep as his skin. I’d never seen him angry. He was as likely to grin when you told him a zombie had escaped from you as if you’d told him the job went perfectly fine.
I hoped never to see Abe angry. He exuded power. I didn’t know if it was magic since I’d never seen real magic besides his. Abe was frightening without doing a thing.
“Sorry I had a problem with Mr. Tappman.” I took a seat. “It threw me off a little having a partner. She was in a hurry to get home to her family.”
He nodded. “Of course she was. She is the quintessential mother, isn’t she? Willing to give her life so her children are taken care of. Like you, eh?”
I supposed that was true, although I thought that most mothers were willing to give their lives for their children.
“How was she on the job besides that?” He played with one of the magic charms on his desk. It was a yellow amulet of some kind that glowed in his hands.
“She was fine.” I shrugged. “I think she would’ve let Mr. Tappman go when he said his wife was pregnant with his child. Debbie is a very nice person.”
He glanced up at me. It was just a random movement of his head that let me know he was considering my words. “She’ll get tougher. As for her letting Mr. Tappman go, I believe you had the same problem once or twice when you first started, hmm?”
I acknowledged that he was right. Some of the zombies whose time was up were pathetic. I used to feel sorry for them, until I had to face Abe with a job unfinished. Going back out after them again was even worse.
“Do you think you’re tough, Skye?”
“Tougher than some. Not so tough as others.”
“Good. I have a new assignment for you.”
“Does it involve being tough? Should I leave Debbie at home?”
“No. Take her with you. She has to learn.” He handed me a scrap of paper. “Go to this address, and pick up Mr. Howard Welk. His time is up.”
“I met Debbie’s husband yesterday.” I managed to grab the paper without touching him. I’d learned that touching him was an unpleasant experience. I couldn’t really explain it, but even thinking about it made me shiver. “He’s not a zombie. Was there some mistake?”
Abe stopped moving, and looked at the door behind me. It slammed shut without so much as a nod from him. “Why don’t you think he’s a zombie?”
I was a little startled by his response. Was it supposed to be a secret?
“You’re the one who told me I’d always know when I was close to my own kind. I stood right next to him. He’s not like me, or the others. Or you, for that matter. Not even like Brandon.”
“What did he feel like?”
I thought about meeting Terry. “I don’t think he’s human. I don’t know what he is. Debbie thinks he’s a zombie.”
His head lifted. “Did you tell her?”
“No. I wouldn’t know what to say.”
“Good. Keep it to yourself. Go get Debbie, and take her to that address.”
The door opened. I guessed that was my cue to leave. “Okay. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“Thank you for taking the time with Debbie’s training. I think she’s going to be good at this, don’t you?”
“Abe—what happened to Mr. Tappman? Where did he go after he went into the mortuary?”
“Exactly what you might imagine. I’ll see you later, Skye.”
Chapter Five
There were so many questions I wished I could ask him. Not the least of which was why he seemed to have a soft spot for Debbie. He didn’t call her in because she wasn’t tough enough with Tappman.
Not onl
y was she the only person I knew that he was letting her work off someone else’s service, she was also the only one he’d moved around from position to position until he could find the exactly the right spot for her.
If I didn’t know better—and I really didn’t—I’d swear he had a thing for her. That was both disturbing and amazing at the same time.
When I’d first showed up for my service, Abe had said something like, “You go out and bring in others like yourself when their time is up.” He didn’t ask what I thought of the idea, or if he could find something I’d like better.
What was it with him and Debbie?
And in that same vein, what was it with Debbie’s husband? Why hadn’t Abe healed him? Maybe it was because Debbie in his service, not Terry. That kind of made sense.
Abe hadn’t denied that Terry wasn’t a zombie. All he seemed to be worried about was if Debbie knew about it. I wished I had enough nerve to ask what was going on.
Admittedly, it was none of my business, but I couldn’t help being curious. Many times, it was what drove me as a police officer, and it was one of the few things that I didn’t lose when I became a zombie.
Of course, there was always the chance that Debbie’s position in Abe’s organization would play some part in my life. It looked as though Debbie was going to be my partner, at least for now. Whatever plans Abe had for her could affect me.
Was that a good enough excuse to nose around and ask questions?
I didn’t have any courage when Abe was staring at me. He sent a thrill of terror through me when he looked my way. I couldn’t ask anything beyond what I was supposed to do. Sometimes I got a little mouthy with him. That was the best I could manage.
But I knew who I could ask. Rocky and Dex didn’t know any more than I did. I’d learned that right away. They were terrified of Abe too. They would never speak out of turn.
Brandon was the only person who seemed to know everything. He wasn’t afraid to talk about it either, though I knew he was scared of Abe too. It was as though he’d made peace with what was going to happen to him. Maybe because he only had two years left on his contract.
Simon’s Mortuary was only a short walk from Devil’s Ink. I felt sure that was to make it more convenient for Abe. He had to be there each time someone was about to leave his service.
I knew there was something magical—breaking the silver chain that bound each of us to him—before we could really die. I wondered if he had to remove the tattoo as well. That sounded painful.
I walked up the steep hill to the mortuary, my hands buried in my pockets more from habit than trying to keep warm. I knew I wasn’t in any hurry. There was never a time limit on pick-ups. Abe wouldn’t miss the few minutes it would take for me to have a short discussion with Brandon.
I walked into the front of the mortuary for a change. It was sparsely furnished, and as cold as the back. There were no lights, even though the day was overcast. I called Brandon’s name a few times. There was no reply.
The ornate casket that was at the front window was filled with artificial flowers that had been there for years. The mannequins standing around the casket were the same. I blew dust off the female. She had a look of mourning about her, despite her tacky pink suit.
“Can I help you?” Brandon popped his head into the room, a wary expression on his youthful face. It changed when he saw me. “Skye. Forget something?”
“I was thinking maybe I could buy you some coffee.” It sounded fine in my head, but kind of lame when I said it.
His pale eyes looked me up and down with more than casual observation. “Have I missed something?”
“It’s just coffee. I don’t want to have sex with you—even if zombies do that kind of thing.”
“They do that kind of thing very well, thank you.” He grinned. “You want to pump me for information, is that it?”
“Are those the only two setting you have? Maybe we could be friends.”
“Unlikely. But I’ll take the coffee. Who knows? It might lead to that other kind of thing.”
He grabbed a gray jacket that had been hanging near the door. We walked out together. He didn’t bother locking up.
“I guess you’re not worried about anyone breaking in?” I asked as I walked beside him.
“Would you break into a place Abe owns?”
“Probably not. You must know a lot about Abe, huh?”
“I’m not putting out until I get my coffee—and a bagel too. I used to be a stockbroker. Did you know that? I was the youngest person ever to be given a seat on the stock exchange. Every morning, I stopped for coffee and a bagel at the same vendor, and left him a fifty-dollar tip.”
“What happened?”
“A man walked up one day, and shot me in the gut. He dragged me into an alley, and took my wallet and everything else he could get. I was lying there in the filth, dying, when I saw Abe. He offered me the deal, and I took it. Now here I am.”
“Why didn’t you stay on the stock exchange?”
He tucked his hand through my arm, and leaned his head close to mine. He smelled like peppermint and cinnamon, not like the mortuary at all. “Being shot to death makes you re-think your life, Skye. I’ve done many things during the eighteen years following my demise.”
“For Abe or yourself?”
“Both.” His cool blue eyes stared into mine. “How old do you think I am?”
“I don’t know. You look thirteen or so. I’m guessing you must be in your twenties.”
“Thanks. I’m almost forty. Good genetics.”
I couldn’t keep the amazement from my face. I stopped at the door to the coffee shop. “You look great. Zombies don’t age, I guess.”
He separated himself from me, and pushed open the door. “Coffee first.”
We got our coffee, and I bought a raisin bagel for Brandon. We sat in a corner of the shop as dozens of people walked in and out. The smell of strong coffee mingled with breakfast food and homemade bread.
“We age a little. You can’t really tell it.”
“Abe looks good for being more than two-hundred years old.”
He sipped his coffee, and glanced around us. “It’s magic—his life force—that he shares every time he creates a new zombie. It’s what keeps him going.”
I wanted to know more. “How does he share his life force? How does he get it back?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. You should ask him.”
“Not that brave. Why do you think I’m asking you?”
“That’s what I thought.” Brandon snorted when he laughed.
I told him about Debbie and her husband. Brandon chewed some of his bagel, and wiped his thin, white hands on a napkin before replying.
“Like I said at the mortuary, zombies still do it, Skye. It sounds like Abe may be smitten with Debbie. He’s only been with a few women since I’ve known him. He’s very selective.”
“That thing with her husband is weird.” I shook my head as I watched people around us. “If he’s not a zombie, and not human—what is he?”
“Could be anything. It might not be Abe’s doing.” He leaned closer. “I don’t know a lot about magic, but I know it can go bad real fast. I’ve seen some things—”
I waited, but he stopped and looked away. “Oh no. Come on. You can’t leave me like this!”
“Sorry.” He finished his bagel. “All I can say is that I’ve never known Abe to be with a woman for more than a few months. The part about him being trapped by a witch in New Orleans is true. I think it made him a little reluctant to commit, if you know what I mean.”
It was my turn to sip my coffee, and think about Abe and Debbie. Maybe he took her on just to keep her close, and had no intention of keeping her husband around for twenty years. He had saved Terry from dying, as he had me and Brandon. Why not just let him die, and then Debbie would be free?
I asked Brandon what he thought.
“This way, she belongs to him, even though she’s not a zombie,” he replie
d. “She’ll do whatever he tells her to do.”
I didn’t want to push my luck, but Brandon might not ever be this chatty again. “What happens to people when their time is up? Why does Abe go through so much trouble to bring them back?”
He swallowed his last bit of coffee. “What do you think? They’re dead.”
“But are they buried or cremated? Where do they go? What happens to the life force magic?”
“Where all dead bodies go. Back to the ether.” He grinned. “You know I think you’ve gotten more out of me than a cup of coffee and a bagel covers. You and me should go back to the mortuary. I’ve got an extra wide coffin that is really plush.”
If I’d been considering using sex to get the truth out of him, that would have changed my mind. “I need to get on this next assignment that Abe wants me to take care of. I’ll see you later. Thanks for the info.”
He winked at me. “Yeah. There’s always later.”
I let him leave first. Brandon was okay . . . for a mortician. I still wondered about where the bodies went, and how the whole thing worked. I knew a little more about Abe, but Brandon was holding back.
I had to stop thinking that way. I wasn’t a cop anymore, and asking too many questions could cause Abe to get rid of me before Kate was grown. I had to remember that.
It wasn’t easy.
I glanced at my phone to make sure there were no messages and then walked outside. The sun was rapidly heating up the day. People were starting to go about their normal lives, never guessing that there were zombies among them. How many of them would be asked to join us at the moment of their deaths? How many zombies were there?
I was approaching my van, looking at my phone at the same time. I needed to give Debbie a call so she could go out with me for the pick-up.
There was a long, sharp blast from a horn. The city bus was already on me when I heard it. I could see the anxiety in the driver’s face as she tried to get around me. There were cars on either side of us so there was nowhere for her to go. It wasn’t like she was driving a Volkswagen.
1 Broken Hearted Ghoul Page 3
