by J. C. Diem
Mark glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to overhear us. “What did you do?” he asked in a low voice that wouldn’t carry.
“Nothing,” I replied with a shrug. “I was washing my hands and she gave me a paper towel then looked into my eyes and freaked out.”
He mused about the problem and waited for the waitress to deliver our meals before speaking. “It’s possible that she’s a voodoo priestess, or maybe even a Wiccan,” he said. “They sometimes have the ability to sense beings that aren’t human.”
“Oh.” Picking up a french fry, I bit into it to see if my stomach would rebel. It didn’t and I swallowed the food down. “Why did she run away from me?”
“Because we’re monsters,” Kala reminded me around a mouthful of food.
Mark sent her a withering stare. “The only thing that’s monstrous at this table is your manners.”
Sending our boss a sunny grin that showed chunks of meat stuck in her teeth, Kala took another gigantic bite of her bloody burger. “You love me,” she said around the half-chewed food.
“Yes,” he agreed. “But at times like these I seriously wonder why.”
Amused by their banter, I bit into my well-cooked burger and kept thoughts of raw, bloody meat firmly out of my mind. Reece watched me from the corner of his eye and I hated the fact that he knew what I was feeling. A flare of remorse came from him then he clamped down on his feelings so hard that I could barely sense him at all. If he could accomplish that, then so could I and I resolved to try to get a handle on my emotions.
“What’s the plan, boss?” Flynn asked when we’d finished our meals and the table had been cleared. We were drinking sodas to give us an excuse to linger for a bit longer.
“We need to question the voodoo priestess who made the call to our organization,” Mark said. “Her store is in the French Quarter.” It wasn’t a surprise that the PIA had tracked her down. They probably had the technology to find anyone on the planet.
We drove a short distance and found a spot on a narrow street. I’d never been to New Orleans before and the French Quarter was a riot of color and ethnicities. Most of the buildings on this street were two or three stories high. Most had balconies clinging to the walls. Others had galleries supported by columns and an abundance of flowering plants to brighten the view even more. It was very different from the far more modern buildings and skyscrapers I was used to seeing in larger cities.
People watched us suspiciously as we stood in a cluster on the sidewalk. We were clearly visitors to the city and we obviously weren’t tourists. With his coffee colored skin, only Flynn would have been able to fit into this neighborhood without notice. Even his green eyes weren’t an anomaly among this particular mixture of races.
Mark surveyed the street and pointed at a store that sold voodoo paraphernalia. It was wedged between a clothing boutique and a bar. “Reece and Kala, wait out here,” he instructed. They acknowledged him with a nod while Flynn and I followed him inside.
A bell jingled when Mark pushed the door open. I could see why he didn’t want all of us to enter the store. It was crammed with goods that I had no hope of being able to identify. There was barely enough room for the three of us to walk between the narrow shelves. They were stacked high with what appeared to be ingredients. For what, I didn’t want to know.
I’d read books about voodoo witchcraft and had had no inkling that any of it might actually be real. If zombies existed, then it was possible that curses might work as well. Getting on the wrong side of a voodoo practitioner was probably a very bad idea.
It was dark at the back of the store. A woman stood behind the counter, almost hidden in the shadows. Without my heightened eyesight, it would have been difficult to see her. It took Mark a few seconds to spot her and he strode over to the counter. Her dark skin was wrinkled and her eyes were aged and weary. She was somewhere in her seventies or eighties. Her pure white hair had been wound on the top of her head in a towering pile of braids. Her dress was almost as colorful as the woman’s from the restaurant.
She stared at my boss impassively when he approached her. “I guess I know a cop when I see one,” she rasped in a voice that spoke of long years of cigarette smoking.
“We’re federal agents,” he corrected her and flashed his ID. “I understand that you called the organization that we belong to last night. Can you tell us any more about the zombies you saw?”
Switching her attention to Flynn and me, she smiled craftily. “You’ll have to hunt down their master, the Zombie King,” she said. “It was a good idea to bring shifters with you. Everyone knows they hate the undead more than anything else on this planet.”
“I didn’t realize that was common knowledge,” Flynn said with a cheeky wink.
Cackling out a laugh, it turned into a cough and she had to stop to catch her breath. “Most of those who are aware of the dark underworld know that shape shifters and the undead are mortal enemies.” She shifted her gaze back to Mark. “I hope you brought along weapons that can kill the reanimated.”
“We were planning on using fire to eradicate them,” he replied.
“That’ll do it, but the Zombie King won’t like it if you burn his puppets,” the voodoo priestess warned him.
“Do you know who he is?” I asked.
Examining me for a long second, the priestess motioned me closer. “You two can leave,” she said, dismissing the men with a wave of her gnarled, arthritic hand. “I want to talk to the girl alone.”
Unhappy with her order, Mark was about to protest, but I turned to him and put my hand on his arm. My grip was far stronger than any normal teen’s. It was a reminder that I wouldn’t be in any physical danger. “I’ll be fine.”
Flynn wasn’t happy about leaving me alone either, but our boss gave him a light push that set him in motion towards the door.
Turning back to the priestess, I was alarmed to see that she’d rounded the counter and was now standing only a few inches away from me. She’d moved so quickly and quietly that I hadn’t even heard her. My new senses should have been sharp enough to detect any movement. Maybe the voodoo practitioner had powers I wasn’t even aware of.
“You are new to being a werewolf,” she said wisely.
“Yes. I only turned a week ago.”
“May I see your scar?”
I hesitated at the odd request. “Which one?” I asked.
“The one on your right shoulder, child.”
Amazed and disturbed that she knew about my old scar, I shrugged out of my jacket and pulled the strap of my white tank top aside. The priestess leaned forward to see the mangled bite mark that had been left by a dog so long ago. She shifted her attention to my left shoulder and moved the strap aside so she could study the second mark. “I thought I sensed turmoil within your spirit,” she said in a low murmur.
“What turmoil?” I asked as I put my jacket back on.
“You have been bitten by two paranormal beings. They are natural enemies and now your spirit is being torn between two opposing forces.”
I’d never heard of dogs and werewolves being natural enemies before, but I was still pretty new to the whole paranormal world. As far as I knew, ordinary dogs weren’t magical and her theory didn’t make much sense. “I’m sure my spirit is fine,” I said and tried to steer her back to the reason why I was there. “Do you know who the Zombie King is and where we can find him?”
“I do not,” the priestess replied and slowly made her way back behind the counter. “I only know that he is new to New Orleans.” She pronounced the name of the city in a way that made it sound exotic. “He is a young bokor who is just beginning to harness his dark powers.” She met my eyes and hers were frightened. “You must stop him before he raises the wrong zombie.”
“What will happen if he does?” I wasn’t even sure what she meant by that. Weren’t all zombies the same? A shiver worked its way down my spine in anticipation of her answer.
“Chaos,” she said succinctly. “Once he lose
s control, the undead will immediately seek out food and everyone in this city will be in danger.”
I didn’t really want to know what zombies ate, but countless horror movies all said the same thing. They’d eat either human flesh or brains, or maybe both. If we didn’t find the Zombie King and put him down, the citizens of New Orleans would soon become snacks for the walking dead.
₪₪₪
Chapter Six
“What did the priestess say?” Kala asked as soon as I stepped out onto the street.
My face must have been pale, because she touched my arm in concern. “She said the Zombie King is new to the city,” I told her with the others listening in intently. “He’s a bokor, whatever that means. He is also apparently new to zombie raising. She thinks he’s going to raise the wrong type of zombie or something and lose control. If he does, his pet corpses will start chowing down on humans.”
Mark hadn’t known me for very long, but he could still tell that I was hiding something from him. “What else did she say?” he prompted.
Knowing I couldn’t evade his question, I shoved my hands into my front pockets. “She knew I was new to being a shifter and she wanted to see my scar. That’s all.” No way was I going to tell them the rest of what she’d told me. Her theory about my tortured spirit was the kind of crazy talk that could get a person locked up.
“Did she know where we can find this guy?” Flynn asked.
I shook my head. “That’s all she could tell me.”
“I should have known it was a bokor,” Agent Steel said almost to himself.
“What exactly is a bokor?” I asked. Apart from reading a couple of fiction novels, I knew very little about voodoo. It wasn’t a topic that had been taught in any of the high schools that I’d attended.
Reece answered my question. “A bokor is someone who studies the dark voodoo arts. They can raise the dead and can cast harmful curses and spells. It’s not a good idea to get on their bad side.” His thought echoed the one I’d had earlier almost too eerily.
“Garrett wants to be Mark when he grows up,” Flynn said solemnly. “He actually reads the research that the boss assigns to us.”
Kala snorted a laugh then sobered when Mark flicked them both a warning look.
“Where to now?” Reece asked as we piled back into the SUV.
“I want to examine the cemetery where the priestess saw the zombies,” Mark replied and called up the address on the GPS. “We need to see how many corpses he’s managed to raise now.”
Again, we only had a short drive to reach our destination. I’d heard about the cemeteries in New Orleans and this one lived up to its reputation. They were known as ‘Cities of the Dead’ and it was easy to see why. Row upon row of ancient crypts and mausoleums stretched out far and wide. The crypts were a mixture of white marble and dark gray stone. All were aged and weathered. The city had been mostly built on a swamp, hence the aboveground graves.
Even before we climbed out of the car, I sensed that something was wrong. A cold, scaly finger seemed to scrape down the back of my neck. I had to force myself to follow the others through the gates. A few tourists were scattered around the cemetery, taking photos and reading the worn inscriptions. It was easily the oldest graveyard that I’d ever been to. It was also by far the creepiest.
“All of these graves are really, really old,” I said, trying not to let my teeth chatter. It was a warm, humid day, but I felt cold all the same. “Surely the bodies would just be bones and dust by now. How dangerous can walking skeletons possibly be?”
Mark continued down the row, checking each crypt and mausoleum for signs of disturbances. “A talented bokor can reanimate a corpse well enough to make them seem almost alive,” he explained as he searched.
“How?” I asked. I now had to consciously will my legs to move. The closer we drew to the heart of the cemetery, the less I wanted to be there. No one else seemed to be affected by the wrongness that apparently only I could feel.
“By using spells that involve blood, usually,” he replied. “Either animal or human blood. Human blood is more powerful, of course. I once saw a zombie that was so lifelike it was almost impossible to tell that he was really dead.”
“How did you know he was a zombie?”
“He wasn’t breathing,” he said with a wry smile. His gaze sharpened when he saw that my arms were wrapped around my torso and I was holding myself tightly. “What’s wrong?”
Was he kidding? There was an aura of evil coming from the crypts that was so thick I could almost taste it. “Can’t you feel that?” I asked and received three confused stares.
“Feel what?” Kala asked.
“Evil,” Reece said, no doubt stealing the emotions directly from me. He’d been the only one not to stare at me in confusion. He pointed at the closest crypt. “It’s coming from there.”
To me, it seemed to be coming from everywhere, but it did appear to be stronger near the elaborately decorated grave. A marble angel stared down at us with a melancholy expression as we moved to surround the crypt. Kala put her hand around my waist to offer me comfort.
“Keep watch to make sure no one approaches,” Mark ordered us and I did my best to comply.
Reece searched for signs that the grave had been disturbed. Hunkering down, he touched some flakes that had been chipped off the marble. “It’s been opened recently,” he deduced and stood. That would account for the faint hint of spoiled meat in the air.
Kala and I kept our eyes on the tourists to make sure none of them was about to wander in our direction. Reece and Flynn worked together to slide the top of the crypt aside. They made it look easy, but the marble had to be heavy. Mark stepped forward to look down into the crypt. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have confirmation of zombies,” he pronounced. He took his cell phone out and snapped a shot of the occupant.
Flynn looked down into the grave and hatred flashed over his face. Kala took a step forward and it was my turn to hold onto her. Her body was quivering slightly in suppressed rage. Reece took a quick glance into the grave and I felt anticipation of bloodshed coming from him. His expression gave nothing of his battle lust away.
Kala took hold of herself and propelled me forward so I could take my first look at a reanimated corpse. Bracing myself and trying to ignore the sense of evil, I grudgingly looked down into the dark opening. The Zombie King wasn’t as powerful as I’d imagined because his zombie looked far from fresh. Rotting meat was barely held together over exposed bone and sinews.
I froze when the undead creature turned its head with a creaking sound like a rusty door slowly being pushed ajar. Its eyes opened and twin milky orbs glared up at me. It hissed in warning, revealing its few remaining teeth and a bloated, moss covered tongue. Even worse than that hideous sight was the sense of alien thoughts that invaded my head. It was sluggish, maybe because it was daylight. I had the feeling that if darkness had held sway, it would have gone for my throat.
The next thing I knew I was sprinting for my life. Someone was calling my name, but I was too panicked to listen. A hand caught my arm and yanked me to a halt. Only when he turned me around and pulled me to him did I realize that it was Reece.
I was so distraught by my first encounter with a zombie that I let myself sink into him when he pulled me in close. His hand ran up and down my back soothingly until my trembling finally stopped. His thoughts were calming, but I knew he was confused by my reaction. Instead of feeling rage and the need to destroy the thing, I’d been terrified almost to tears. He didn’t know that he wasn’t the only one who could get inside my mind. I knew why we could touch each other’s thoughts, but I couldn’t explain why I could sense the zombie.
Pushing away from him, I was ashamed not just by my reaction to the zombie, but to him as well. He caught my chin in his hand and forced me to look into his eyes. “Don’t be embarrassed. We all have a strong reaction the first time we see a zombie.”
To be honest, my horror and fright had fled quickly once his ar
ms had come around me. I had to dredge up the image of the hissing corpse to remember why I’d run in the first place. He had the ability to wipe away my distress with one touch, which didn’t make me happy at all. Being bonded to him was going to be even harder to deal with than I’d thought.
Footsteps approached and I moved away from him just as Kala jogged over to us. “Are you okay?” she asked.
Nodding, I smiled sheepishly. “I don’t know what came over me. The zombie looked at me with its horrible white eyes, hissed at me and my mind went completely blank.” Well, not completely blank. I’d felt a craving for human flesh and blood that hadn’t come from either me or from my inner beast. The need to feed had come from the bundle of rotting meat and bones lying in the crypt.
Mark and Flynn were right behind her and they overheard my explanation. “We have a couple of things to take care of then we’ll head to the base where we can discuss this in private,” Agent Steel said. I’d been seen bolting away from the cemetery and people watched us suspiciously from doorways and windows up and down the street. “Kala, stay with Lexi. Reece, Flynn, you’re with me.”
Kala and I made our way back to the SUV while the guys headed to the cemetery. I was surprised to see how far I’d run in such a short space of time. It was no wonder that people were staring. I must have been moving far faster than was normal for a human.
“What now?” I asked when we reached the SUV.
“We found signs of blood on thirty or so graves,” she explained. “We also found a circle on the ground that had been drawn in blood. The bokor scrubbed most of it away to hide his ritual, but now that the zombies have risen, he can call them forth without going through the full ritual again. He just needs to sprinkle some fresh blood on the circle to activate it. The guys are setting up motion sensing cameras near the graves that have been marked with blood. The cameras will tell us when they rise so we don’t waste time sitting around in the cemetery.”
It was a good idea and I was grateful I wouldn’t have to spend more time than was necessary in the graveyard. We needed to head to the base to gear up before we could face these things again. I was glad that I’d have a reprieve before I had to return.
