Dying Is My Business

we got from the warehouse without incident, the better I felt our chances were.

In the backseat, Thornton convulsed suddenly. He doubled over, groaning, and hit the button on the door handle that lowered the window. He leaned his head out of the Explorer, opened his mouth, and regurgitated a spray of dark red liquid that splashed to the street below in a viscous puddle. I glanced at the sidewalks, hoping no one was around to notice. I needed us to stay inconspicuous. There were a few nighttime pedestrians on the block, but they continued on their way, dutifully ignoring the zombie vomiting blood out of the back of my car. Good old New Yorkers. They really couldn’t care less.

Thornton reeled back into the car and raised the window. He collapsed against the seat. “What’s happening to me?”

“Don’t worry,” Bethany explained. “You had blood in your lungs and stomach from your injuries. The amulet was helping you clear it out, that’s all.”

“Don’t worry?” Thornton’s pale lips glistened a dark red. He wiped his sleeve across his mouth. “I’m dead and vomiting blood, Bethany. I think that’s pretty fucking worrisome.”

She sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t just leave you there.”

Thornton calmed down. “Sorry. I’m just freaked out. I can’t help it. I’m not like you, I can’t always be so in control. So is there anything else I should know about being a zombie? Am I going to start craving brains next?”

She blew out her breath. “There is something.”

“I knew it. Might as well sign me up for the next Romero movie.”

“Thornton, listen to me, this is important. The amulet’s effects are only temporary.”

He was silent a moment, then asked, “How long have I got?”

“It’s not an exact science, but … twenty-four hours, give or take.”

In the rearview, I saw him wipe his hands over his face. “God. I need to see Gabrielle. Right now.”

Bethany shook her head slowly. “I’m sorry, Thornton, we can’t go back yet. If we do, we’ll lead the gargoyles right to Citadel.”

“Bethany, for Christ’s sake, I have to see her.”

“You will, I promise,” she said. “Tomorrow, when the sun is up and it’s safe, we can go back, but right now we can’t. I need you to understand that.”

Thornton chewed his thumbnail worriedly. “You promised, Bethany. I’m going to hold you to that.”

I didn’t know who Gabrielle was, but judging from the way Thornton was so desperate to see her before his time ran out, I figured she was important to him. His girlfriend, maybe. So what did that make Bethany?

In the backseat, she said, “Now we just need to get the box back, before…” She trailed off self- consciously.

“Before I die, you mean. Permanently this time.” Thornton leaned his head back against the top of the seat. “Shit, Bethany. You always figure you’re going to die sometime, but it always seems so far away. Though, on the plus side, I’m already dead, so I guess I don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“Thornton, I’m serious about the box,” she said. “You know how important it is we get it back to Citadel safely. It’s why we split up in the first place, so you could find someplace to hide it.”

Thornton sat up. “That’s why you brought me back, isn’t it? It wasn’t because you couldn’t leave me there, it wasn’t sentimental, it was because I know where the box is and you don’t. Jesus, Bethany. I’m right, aren’t I?”

She didn’t answer. Her silence did it for her.

I slowed behind a car that was taking a right turn onto Ninth Avenue and did my best not to look like I was eavesdropping.

Thornton glared icily at Bethany. “You don’t have to worry about it. The box is safe.”

“You’re sure?” she pressed.

He nodded. “I left it in the safest place I could think of, with someone even the gargoyles wouldn’t dare mess with.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh no, you don’t mean—?”

“I gave it to Gregor.”

“Tell me you didn’t,” she said. “Gregor’s a compulsive hoarder. He keeps everything.”

“Just another reason it’ll be safe with him.”

She groaned. “There’s no guarantee we’ll ever get it back now. Not from him.”

“He owes me a favor. A lot of favors, actually. He’ll give it back. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

Bethany sighed and crossed her arms. It was evident she was someone who hated not being in complete control of a situation.

“Who’s Gregor?” I asked.

“An old friend,” Thornton said.

“Very old,” Bethany added, like that cleared things up.

Apparently that was all they were willing to tell me. I pressed a little harder. “Is that where we’re going now, to get this box back from Gregor?”

Bethany shook her head. “Just keep driving. Right now, our priority is to make sure we’ve lost the gargoyles.”

I maneuvered the car across the intersection at Eighth Avenue, still heading east. I checked the side mirrors. The buildings in this part of town were too tall for me to see anything but walls and windows, but we were moving at a pretty good clip, especially by Midtown standards. “I think we’ve shaken them off.”

“It won’t be that easy,” she said. “They’ve got our scent. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were still tracking us but hanging back, waiting to see where we go.”

“What’s their beef with you anyway?” I asked.

“They want the box,” Bethany said.

That made two of us. “Okay,” I said, “but why?”

“It’s complicated.”

Why wasn’t I surprised? Everything had gotten a lot more complicated when I walked into that damn warehouse. “News flash, sweetheart, I’m the guy who saved your ass back there by turning a gargoyle into a pile of ashes, so maybe you can clue me in on what this is all about.”

Bethany turned to Thornton. “Did this asshole just call me sweetheart?”

Thornton leaned forward in his seat. “Wait, what are you talking about, turning a gargoyle into ashes?” I told him what had happened when I used the staff. His eyes bugged. “But that’s impossible, the Anubis Hand isn’t supposed to—”

“I’d really like to be the one asking the questions right now,” I snapped.

I drove across Broadway, staying on Fiftieth Street. On the next block, a short one between Broadway and Seventh Avenue, the traffic was backed up to a standstill. I reluctantly slowed to a stop behind a fresh-produce delivery truck. Its big, boxy semitrailer blocked my view of the street ahead. I realized then that I’d made the wrong choice. This close to Times Square, I should have known the traffic would back up. Considering what might be following us, I didn’t like having to slow down, not even for a moment. I threw the Explorer into reverse and checked the mirrors, but I was already too late. Cars were filing in behind us, boxing us in place. Damn. If the gargoyles found us now, there was no place for us to go. Our only escape route would be on foot, out in the open.

“What do the gargoyles want with the box?” I pressed. “What’s so special about it?”

“It’s theirs, kind of,” Thornton said.

I met his eyes in the rearview. “What?”

“It doesn’t belong to them,” Bethany interjected quickly. “It doesn’t belong to anyone. Look, what’s important is that we can’t let them get their hands on it. There’s a good reason it was kept hidden for so many years. The safest place for it now is locked away where no one can get to it.”

“What is it, some kind of weapon?” I asked.

“Not exactly,” Bethany said. “But in the wrong hands, it would be extremely dangerous.”

“Not to be a stickler,” I said, “but isn’t that the definition of a weapon?”