Hellforged

Not exactly an urgent special report on mysterious zombie deaths in Deadtown.

I flipped to the Paranormal News Network. Even though Sykes had promised Lynne Hong an exclusive, now that the story was out, PNN must be following up. A photo of Tina in her audition outfit flashed on the screen for a story about the new members of Monster Paul’s Zombie Freak Show and the free Paranormal Appreciation Day concert. But even though I watched through a complete news cycle, there was nothing on PNN, either. Or any other channel I tried. Nothing about T.J., and nothing about a second death.

Maybe I was jumping to conclusions. When Daniel said, “It’s happened again,” he could’ve meant anything. Something at work or with his ex, probably. Just because I was thinking about T.J. didn’t mean Daniel was.

Back on Channel 10, a spot for the local news listed the noon broadcast’s top stories. Still no mention of any zombie death or a police cover-up.

T.J.’s story hadn’t run. Who’s going to speak for him now? Sykes had asked. He’d tried. He’d risked his career to do so. And the response was resounding silence.

I muted the TV and looked up the phone number for the Channel 10 newsroom. When someone answered, I asked for Lynne Hong. “It’s about her zombie story from last night.”

The extension rang three times, and I almost hung up, figuring there was no point in leaving a voice mail. But then she answered.

“Lynne Hong.”

“Hi, I’m calling to find out whether Channel 10 aired your story about a zombie death in the New Combat Zone.”

“How do you know about that?” she asked sharply.

“I was in the Zone last night when you interviewed Officer Sykes. I didn’t catch the news, so—”

“Who is this?”

“My name is Vicky Vaughn.”

“Well, Ms. Vaughn, the answer is no. We didn’t air the story because there was no story.”

“But Officer Sykes—”

“Has been suspended due to allegations he assaulted a fellow officer. There’s no evidence to support his claims.”

No evidence. I’d hydroplaned across Creature Comforts through the evidence. And Hong was letting the story go.

“Did you actually investigate his claims? Or did you just take Hampson’s word for it?”

“Of course I investigated—or tried to. Sykes’s partner wouldn’t talk to me. I called Creature Comforts multiple times, but no one answered. The police department maintains that no zombie was murdered in the Zone. I can’t go on the air with unsubstantiated allegations from a suspended cop with a grudge.”

“A zombie did die in Creature Comforts. And there may have been a second death.”

“A second—?” Hong paused, presumably to grab a pen. “Who? Where?”

I hesitated. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t want to get Daniel in trouble. I wasn’t even sure what he’d meant. “I don’t know. It’s just a rumor.”

Hong made a disgusted sound. “I can follow up rumors. But only if I have some information to go on.”

“You do have information. What happened to T.J. isn’t a rumor. It’s real. Keep trying with Axel, the bar’s owner. He’ll talk to you.” I started to hang up.

“Ms. Vaughn—wait, you said Vicky Vaughn? You’re the PA who pulled that vampire off a human a few months back. The story was on CNN. You never returned my calls. You’re some kind of werewolf, right?”

If there’s one surefire way to keep me talking, it’s to call me a werewolf. “No, I’m not a werewolf. I’m a shapeshifter, of the Cerddorion race. It’s not the same. Shapeshifters—”

Not that Lynne Hong cared. “That happened in Creature Comforts, too,” she said, talking over me. “What’s going on in that place?”

This time I did hang up.

A game show was coming on the silent TV. I checked the time and jumped. I had to pack. But first a shower. I turned off the television, grabbed my bathrobe, and headed down the hall. Just short of the bathroom, I stopped. Something seemed out of place, and it took me a second to figure out what it was. Juliet’s bedroom door was open—my roommate always slept with her door closed and locked. For the space of two breaths, I hesitated, then I stuck my head through the doorway. The coffin lid was open. I turned on the light and confirmed what I already knew. Juliet’s coffin was empty.

In the years we’d shared this apartment, Juliet had never stayed out all day. Not once. She wouldn’t disintegrate into dust or anything if she slept somewhere else—but she always said that nothing recharged her like returning to her own coffin each dawn.

Then again, she’d mentioned something about a new man, about going back to his place. Maybe she’d found another way to recharge her batteries.

Don’t wait up. J.

Weird chanting echoed through my mind, making me glance back at the empty living room. I shook it off, went into the bathroom, and started the shower.

Fifteen minutes later, I was dressed and rooting around the back of my closet. I dug out my small duffel bag, tossed it on the bed, and unzipped it. Armfuls of underwear and sweaters and jeans went from dresser drawers into a tangled heap in the bag. I found my passport in a desk drawer and zipped it into the outside pocket. It was still current—a good thing, too. Last time I’d renewed it, the monsters were still in hiding. Now that we were common knowledge, the government required “paranormal status”—backed up by DNA test results—on passport applications. If Kane failed with his civil rights case, I might not qualify for a passport after this one expired. For now, though, it was easier for me to leave the country than to cross a state line.

I stared at the jumble of clothes spilling out of my bag. I had no idea what I’d thrown in there. Not that it mattered. I had a closet full of clothes at Maenllyd, and Mab would make sure my bathroom there was stocked with toiletries. What I really wanted to pack were a few of my favorite weapons—the bronze dagger with the mother-of-pearl hilt, a pistol or two. And the Sword of Saint Michael, since Difethwr was back. But then I’d have to check my bag, and those weapons were too valuable to entrust to airline baggage handlers. Mab had weapons; her collection was far larger than mine.

I stuffed a couple of wayward sweater sleeves into the bag and zipped it up. It was time to go meet Daniel.

IN THE LOBBY OF MY BUILDING, THE STRONG SMELL OF AMMONIA tickled my nose and made my eyes water. Two zombies, wearing jumpsuits with DIRTY JOB CLEANING stenciled across the back, pushed mops across the floor.

Clyde looked up from his Boston Globe. No News of the Dead for Clyde—he wouldn’t be caught undead reading that rag.

I greeted him. “I met the new doorman last night,” I said. “Nice guy.”

Clyde harrumphed. “Former doorman, you mean.”

“He quit?” That surprised me.

“Presumably. He deserted his post. Lord knows how long the building went unattended last night.”

Huh. Maybe Juliet had come home. Maybe she and her admirer Gary hit it off so well that the two of them ran away together. The idea made me smile.

“That wasn’t even the worst of it,” Clyde continued. “He left the lobby in shocking condition. Filthy, just filthy. I had to call in the cleaning company, and we weren’t on their schedule for today. They’ve only just arrived. I had to sit here for hours with a reeking mess. The smell was so horrendous I was forced to cover my nose with my handkerchief.”

Dread squeezed my heart with icy fingers. One of the zombies lifted his mop to dunk it in his bucket. Black slime dripped from the mop head in long strings.

Abandoning Clyde, I ran to the nearest zombie. “Did you find any brass buttons while you were