The din attacked her ears as the cigercisi went after her nose.
Several large groups of men sat around tables making boisterous declarations—judging by the tone—and pounded down drinks in a distinctly un-Islamic display of alcohol consumption.
Whiffs of anise suggested everyone was drinking raki.
You don’t get much more Turkish than this place, so the coffee’s gonna be authentic. That’s a win.
Now it was just a test to see if she could tolerate the smell long enough to acquire the drink.
Shay was always insulted by a poor tail. The two obvious plainclothes Turkish cops who’d been following her since her stop at the café didn’t even bother to wipe the looks of concentration off their faces.
She’d give them credit for sensing she might be a troublemaker, considering all the people, Turkish or otherwise, who were there for the festival.
Thankfully, the city’s skies weren’t as choked with drones as LA or New York. Once she lost the cops, she’d be able to make her way to the burial mound site at the edge of the city with ease.
The sun hung low on the western horizon. She’d have a good chance to escape soon if she timed it right.
Shay made her way toward the thickening crowds flowing toward the mosque. She walked with a steady but not quick pace. The cops didn’t need to know she was on to them. The minutes passed as she closed on the mosque.
A loud, sonorous Arabic chant erupted from the mosque. The call to prayer echoed through the nearby streets and alleys. A ripple of interest passed through the crowds as they headed toward the mosque.
The two cops following Shay took their attention off her for a moment and focused on the mosque.
And you’d been doing so well, guys. Too bad. Big mistake.
The tomb raider ducked into an alley and broke into a sprint. She checked over her shoulder as she hit the exit. No tailing cops in sight.
Sorry, but I’ve got a job to do.
Shay stepped out of her gray rental Fiat Qubo. The ultra-compact minivan wasn’t the type of vehicle she wanted to drive, but it didn’t stand out and wouldn’t be all that suspicious driving by the fenced area surrounding the mound site.
Her jammers would keep any drones out of the area, and she didn’t see much in the way of security other than the fence.
She’d switched out of her robe and into a loaded tactical harness, jacket, pants, and boots. She also put on a headlamp. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but the job smelled too easy to her—and Peyton’s warnings about mangled bodies ensured she wouldn’t let her guard down.
Damn it. Maybe I should have brought the magic sword after all.
Shay carefully made her way toward the burial mound. She heard something scratching and dropped to her knees behind a pile of crates, fishing out a sonic grenade. A little shock and awe might be enough to get her through and to the stone.
She poked her head around the corner. Unless she really misunderstood anatomy, a sonic grenade wouldn’t work.
Well, fuck. I guess I know the difference between extending life and denying death now.
Half a dozen animated skeletons wandered back and forth in front of the excavated entrance. They all held curved single-edged sabers and small elaborately-decorated round shields, pre-modern Ottoman-era equipment.
The blades gleamed in the moonlight, not a hint of dust or rust on them. The shields looked as if they’d been painted the day before. They didn’t resemble equipment pulled from a burial mound.
What the fuck is up with the undead lately? Overpopulation at its worst. Motherfucking skeletons.
Shay decided the only thing worse than a zombie was a damned skeleton. At least a zombie still had organs a person might target. Their anatomy and movement made sense—magical, but not too magical.
Everything about a moving skeleton was a mockery of biology and physics. They were pure magic in the most annoying sense. Shooting a walking pile of bones with a pistol was pointless.
Now I really wish I’d brought the sword. Maybe it’d be great at chopping skeletons up. First, though, I’ve got to figure out how these bone assholes hunt.
Shay grabbed a rock and threw it against the metal casing of an unpowered spotlight. The rock clinked and fell to the ground. The skeletons ignored it.
Okay, so not sound. How do I get past them? Just walk?
Shay unsheathed one of her adamantine knives and crept toward the skeletons, holding her breath. A few seconds passed, and the skeletons continued to wander near the mound.
The stupid things couldn’t even see her. Of course they couldn’t; they didn’t have eyes. She let out a sigh of relief. They were just for show.
All of the skeletons spun toward her and advanced.
“Well, shit. Fuck it.” Shay ducked a saber. The skeletons rushed after her, not able to match her speed but not lumbering like zombies either.
She slashed with her knife, but other than nicking the bone, she didn’t accomplish much. The skeleton didn’t react at all.
Shay pulled out a second knife in time to parry a powerful slash from a different skeleton. For bastards with no muscles, they hit hard.
The force of the blows pushed her back. She slashed again and again with her knives, but her enemies weren’t reacting to her hits and scratching up bones wasn’t a great way to win a fight against something already dead.
Shay blocked another blow and considered her options. A frag grenade wouldn’t have enough force to blow apart bones.
Am I gonna have to start carrying C4 everywhere with me?
Shay snorted. I wonder if this is how Brownstone felt when he fought those zombies?
The armed piles of bones spread out in a half-circle. A few quick dodges saved Shay from some nasty lacerations, but she was running out of room to maneuver.
Fuck it. I’m not leaving without my damned stone.
The tomb raider flipped on her headlamp and rushed into the burial mound. A saber whizzed
