Zombie Jack

ZOMBIE JACK

Samantha Winston

® www.loose-id.com

Warning This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id® e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

***** This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable.

Zombie Jack Samantha Winston This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by Loose Id LLC 1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-2924 Carson City NV 89701-1215 www.loose-id.com

Copyright © October 2007 by Samantha Winston All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

ISBN 978-1-59632-562-3 Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

Printed in the United States of America

Editor: Catherine Gilbert Cover Artist: Julie Nelius

www.loose-id.com

Chapter One Rainy Days and Mondays His arm fell off, again. The first time it happened, he’d been holding a heavy suitcase. The suitcase hit the ground with a loud thump, his hand still gripping it. He hadn’t felt any pain. After all, he was dead. Two seconds after his arm fell off for the first time, a woman noticed and let out a horrified scream. Without thinking, he grabbed his arm, first having to pry his fingers off the suitcase, and fled. Leaving the bus station far behind him, he slowed down and tried to take stock of his situation. He was lost. His arm had fallen off. Well, it could be worse, he hadn’t lost it. He took his shirt halfway off and popped his arm back into its socket -- getting it backward the first time. It was so bizarre. His arm was like part of a toy that popped in and out of its socket. A strange, magnetic, magical effect held it together. At least he didn’t feel anything, and it wasn’t too gross, once you got used to seeing bare bone and muscle. No blood. No pain. No suitcase -- he’d left it in the bus station. No clean clothes. A raindrop landed on his nose. Suddenly, the sky opened up and let down a deluge. Great. Hunching his shoulders against the rain, he hurried down the street, letting instinct guide him. A sort of whispery tingle ran through his body, urging him this way and that. It was the same sort of tingling pull that made him go to the bus station. It had led him this far -- he might as well follow it to see where he’d end up. The mysterious force tugged him along, spun him around, and pushed him into a dark alleyway. He looked around, taking stock of his surroundings. A pile of cardboard boxes sat next to a green door set in a brick wall. Several rusty fire escapes dangled overhead. At the far end of the alley was a Dumpster. He knew where he was. Things were starting to fall into place.

2

Samantha Winston

He waited a few minutes. No one had followed him. He sighed and went to the green door. He tried the handle, but it was locked, and when he pulled it, his arm fell off, again. Depression and dismay rolled over him. He managed to pry his fingers off the doorknob, and the arm dropped to the ground. Sighing, Jack bent down, picked up his arm, and put it back in place. Nothing was going right. He kept hoping he’d wake up from the nightmare he found himself in, but it wasn’t happening. He was dead, and he had no place to go except here. Timidly, he rapped on the green door. After a few moments it opened, and a man with long, blond hair down to his waist peered out at him through bloodshot blue eyes. Blinking from the dim light in the alley, the man yawned. “You’re too early for the audition. It won’t be for another couple hours.” With that, he shut the door in Jack’s face. Audition? Jack blinked, backed up, and looked more carefully at the green door. Taped to the door was a sign. AUDITIONS. ALL DAY SUNDAY. He rapped on the door again, and the blond man opened it again. He looked cross. “Look, man, it says starting at 2 p.m.” “It says all day Sunday. Is today Sunday?” “Of course.” The blond man looked perplexed. “All day Sunday? Let me see that.” He stepped out and examined the sign. “Right.” He looked at Jack. “Wait a minute.” He went inside. A minute later he was back with a felt-tipped pen. Carefully, he blacked out the ALL DAY and wrote STARTING AT 2 P.M. Putting the top back on the pen, he nodded. “Better.” “Could I wait inside?” Jack asked. “It’s raining.” About to shut the door, the blond man scratched his head and shrugged. “All right. You can wait in the lounge. Follow me.” Gratefully, Jack entered the building where he was pretty sure he’d been killed. How he’d died, and who had killed him, had yet to enter his head. He didn’t think he was ready for those memories. Just trying to cope with today strained him to the limit. At the same time, a numb, cotton-wool feeling surrounded him, making him wonder if it could be a bad dream after all. He stepped inside and blinked. The nightclub had totally changed. He didn’t recognize it at all. How long had he been dead? It hadn’t occurred to him to check. Besides, just realizing he’d died had been a hell of a shock. He’d had enough shocks for the day. When he’d seen the scar on his chest and the memory of his death had hit him, he’d walked out of the men’s room like a…well, like a zombie. He’d stood in the middle of the station, just stood there, until his arm dropped off. “Hey, why don’t you sit down? I’m going to go do some work. I’ll be back in a little while, all right?” The blond man pointed to a purple velvet sofa, and Jack sank onto it with a sigh. It felt good to be resting. His arms and legs trembled with fatigue, and after a few minutes of sitting upright, he glanced around. Making sure the blond man had gone, he lay

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down on the sofa. At first, he lay on his back. But that made the terrible memory of waking up in the coffin return, so he turned over onto his side and curled into the soft cushions. The recollection of waking up in the coffin was making him sick, but he didn’t try to chase the memory away. It made him feel more alive, for one thing, and he was still hoping for some sort of explanation, no matter how wild, of how he’d been resuscitated.

***** He didn’t wake in a flash of consciousness. He came to gradually, with his mind dull and groggy. He tried to sit up first, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t turn over or bend his legs. Working his hands free, he groped around blindly, feeling silky cloth only inches above his face. The cloth covered hard walls. This wasn’t his bed. The walls pressed in on him. Pure, overwhelming, primal fear rushed through him. This was a coffin! He was buried alive! No, he thought, this has to be a dream. Calm down. Keep your cool. You’ll wake up in a minute. Keep your eyes open. Are they open? Yes.

He waited to wake up. Waited for the slightest glimmer of light that would tell him what was going on, but the fear and the suspicion that he’d been buried alive kept seeping back. Finally, his mind snapped. He exploded, or that’s what it felt like, and shoved his arms straight up, smashing through the wood, bringing a shower of fetid earth down on his chest. His own panic helped with the rest of the journey. Somehow, he forced his way through his coffin lid and dug his way to the surface of the earth. He broke out of the ground, shaking and spitting dirt from his mouth. The burst of unnatural energy gone, he slept for what seemed like hours in the cold rain.

When dawn colored the sky gray, he woke up on his back. Trees leaned over him, their tattered leaves nearly gone, their trunks and branches black and shiny with water. A flock of crows suddenly surged out of the glowering sky, wheeling and cawing above him. Startled, he rolled over and found himself facing a grave. Blinking the rain out of his eyes, he made out the words on the tombstone. R. I. P. Jack Severn Born 1980 -- Died 2005 The name struck a chord in his mind. He felt as if he knew that guy. And then a voice inside his head whispered that Jack was his name. He was Jack. But nothing else came to him. It was like he’d been born inside a grave, had pushed and squeezed out through dirt, and woke up lying on cold, wet grass. His mind was empty, scrubbed clean as if the rain had washed through it. Even the panic had gone. In its place was a curious numbness. Perhaps, he thought after a while, this is all a dream. With that in mind, he got up and managed to push the dirt back into his grave, smoothing the mud and replacing the sodden grass.

4

Samantha Winston

Some obscure, mysterious force drove him. He didn’t think. No, it was more than that -- he couldn’t think. His mind was empty, except for a voice whispering for him to go somewhere. He remembered things in bits and pieces as he walked. He remembered where he’d bought the muddy suit he wore, but he didn’t think to wonder why he’d been in a grave or why he was in a cemetery. It was like being in a dream. In fact, he was pretty sure he was dreaming. Everything -- the dirt, the rain, and the bus station in front of him -- were part of a dream. He felt numb. That was another argument for a dream. But the dream kept veering into a nightmare. He was cold and wet; his feet sloshed inside his shoes, and when he reached for his wallet, it wasn’t there. He wanted to get out of the rain, so he went toward the bus station right next to the cemetery. A taxi stopped, and a man got out. He paid the driver, then noticed Jack. “Jesus! What happened to you? Here, take this.” He tossed a five-dollar bill at Jack. To the cab driver the man said, “They should keep the homeless out of the bus station. It’s disgusting. Don’t the police do anything about it?” The cabby shrugged, drove away, and the man walked off. Jack glanced down at his suit, and for the first time realized how filthy he was. He needed some dry clothes. That’s how he came to take the suitcase someone had left in front of a bench at the bus station. He stood in a corner and watched it for a long time, but nobody seemed to belong to the suitcase. It was all alone. Casually, he sat down in front of it. He leaned over and rested his hand on it. No one even glanced in his direction. He took the suitcase and went into the men’s room. First, he looked into the mirror to see if his reflection told him anything about himself, but he didn’t recognize the person staring back at him. Who was that filthy man with the wild, unkempt hair, muddy face, and scraggly beard? He reached up and touched his chin, but the feeling was totally unfamiliar. He had no idea who he was. A fit of shivering came over him, and he glanced down at the suitcase. He hoped it held men’s clothes. It did. He found a T-shirt and a jacket that looked like they might fit him, and he peeled off his wet clothes. Not daring to look in the mirror anymore, he washed in the sink. Scrubbing himself with his old shirt, he tried to ignore the stares of other people. At the same time, he was oddly disconnected by everything that surrounded him. Noises were muted, and the light seemed grayish and pale. He couldn’t seem to get upset about anything. He only felt odd. Certain he’d wake up from this nightmare, he kept washing. Any second now, he thought, I’ll open my eyes in another place as another person. Come on, Jack, wake up. Come on!

He didn’t wake up, and his reflection refused to give up a clue. He hated the long, muddy hair, the overgrown nails, and the horrible, scraggly beard. Well, he could take care of all that. The suitcase held a treasure -- a toiletries case with disposable razors, shaving cream, a brand-new toothbrush, scissors, and nail clippers. He trimmed his nails and beard, and gave himself a shave. Afterward, he took the scissors and cut his hair the best he could.

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It was still too long, and one side looked longer than the other, but as it dried, it curled slightly, hiding the disaster. He wasn’t a hairdresser. Who was he? He rested his hands on the sink and leaned his forehead against the cool mirror. Of all the strange dreams, this was the strangest. He vaguely remembered his name, Jack, but his reflection didn’t tell him anything, just that he was a young man with blue eyes, black hair, and a straight nose. Sighing, he pulled back and picked up the deodorant. That’s when he noticed the massive scar on his chest, and the first of his memories rushed back and hit him with the force of a freight train. He was dead. He’d died. He was not dreaming. He jumped backward and tripped over the suitcase. The fall stunned him, and he lay for a second, his mind full of a terrible roaring noise. An elderly black man with kind eyes bent over him, and in a concerned voice asked, “Are you all right, son?” “Fine,” croaked Jack. He staggered to his feet and looked wildly about. He was dead! “What time is your bus?” “Bus?” Jack gaped at him for a moment, before remembering he was in a bus station. He was a naked dead man in a bus station. “Uh, soon.” “Well, you better hurry and get dressed. And be careful, the floor is slick.” The man nodded and left. Shock warred with shock as he pulled on the T-shirt, jeans, and jacket he’d found. Once dressed, he sat on his suitcase and shook for a few minutes. The little voice in his head pushed him back to his feet and started to tug at him. His feet listened to the voice, and he followed. It seemed the voice tried to lead him somewhere. He left the bathroom and stood for a minute, trying to get his bearings. And that’s when his arm had fallen off, the woman had screamed, and he’d run out of the bus stop with nothing but the clothes on his back and his arm in his hand. By the time he’d stopped for breath, he’d come to this conclusion: no one should ever have to wake up in a coffin.

6

Samantha Winston

Chapter Two Jack is Back He woke up. For a minute, he was too scared to open his eyes. Hearing footsteps and a small cough, Jack sat up, rubbing his face. He must have fallen asleep on the purple couch. He felt rumpled, but a bit better, even if it hadn’t turned out to be a dream. He was still in borrowed clothes on a strange couch in the club where he’d been killed. The blond man came over and stood looking at him, a frown on his face. “Thanks for letting me stay inside,” Jack told the man. “Hey, no problem.” He stuck his hand out to shake. “I’m Duane Martin. You can call me Dee. Everyone does.” “Jack.” He shook Dee’s hand. “You look familiar. Have I seen you before?” “I don’t know.” Jack tried to dredge up some memory of the blond man. He thought he’d remember someone with hair down to his hips. “I don’t think so,” he said after a minute. “There’s a vending machine in the game room.” Dee pointed. “Why don’t you grab something to drink and make yourself useful? You can answer the door for me when the others come for the audition while I finish fixing the damn lights. All right?” Jack nodded and got up stretching. “Didn’t this place used to be a disco?” “Yeah, that’s right. But now it’s a burlesque pool club, a new idea I had. It’s called The Purple Dee. What do you think?” Jack looked around. A small stage had been built facing the bar, and in between was the old dance floor, now full of bistro tables and chairs for those watching the show. The

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new dance floor had been moved to one side, and just behind it was a poolroom, visible through swinging doors like in a cowboy movie. “Nice. Have you been open long?” “No, the grand opening is supposed to be Halloween night. I’m getting everything set right now, but my stripper, Tony, left last week without notice. The asshole. I have to replace him as soon as possible. It’s probably morbid to open a club on the same day it got closed because of a murder, but…” Dee’s eyes widened. “I know this sounds crazy, but I just realized who you reminded me of. Are you, by any chance, related to the guy that got killed here? Jack Severn? I have a clipping of the newspaper, and you look exactly like him. It’s totally spooky.” Jack’s fists clenched. He hadn’t thought anyone would recognize him. His picture had been in the papers? What exactly had happened to him here? He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Dee held his hands out in a peace gesture. “Hey, sorry. I had to ask. I got the place after it happened. I’d always wanted to run my own club, and it was dirt cheap, as you can imagine. But I changed everything around. I even broke down walls to make it different.” “I remember how it looked before. When it happened, I was” -- he broke off and stared at a spot where the old dance floor used to be -- “over there.” “You were here? The night it happened?” Dee took a step backward. “Sweet Jesus and Mary. Why did you come back here? I thought you were here for the audition.” “That’s a good question.” Jack shook his head slowly. “I haven’t got the faintest idea why I came back. I’ve been thinking about that all morning. Ever since I found out…” His voice trailed off, and he felt as if he wanted to cry. “I haven’t got a clue.” “You saw the sign and wanted to try out?” Dee prompted. “Try out for what?” “The audition. To be a stripper. That’s what the audition is for. I put the sign up and posted the ad in the…” Dee clapped his hand to his forehead. “I forgot.” “What?” “I forgot to post the ad.” Dee’s voice rose. “I forgot to post the fucking ad! I forgot! I can’t believe I forgot. I had it all written down. Call the Post. Place the ad. Wait for the auditions. Get someone to replace Tony. How could I be so stupid?” He started to pace. He walked from the bar to the poolroom, around the snooker table, and back to the lounge. He walked up the steps to the stage and looked down at him. Jack hadn’t moved. Dee seemed to be sizing him up. “Hey. Watch. It’s dead easy.” He unbuttoned the top of his shirt. “Always bare your chest first.” Dee kept swaying to imaginary music. “After that, do your cuffs. If you forget the cuffs, you look like an ass when your shirt gets stuck.” He undid his cuffs. “Keep moving. Don’t stop moving for a second.” His feet moved in a shuffle step. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it wide open. Jack frowned.

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Samantha Winston

“What is it?” Dee stopped. “I don’t know if I can do that. I have a huge scar on my chest.” “Let me see.” Jack pulled his T-shirt up. “It goes all the way across, and here there is one that goes down.” “Holy shit.” Dee looked taken aback. “It might freak out the clients. They’ll think I’m a monster.” Dee stared at the scar, and his face suddenly brightened. “I have the greatest idea. We’ll blow them away.” He hopped off the stage and clapped Jack on the shoulder. “We’ll call your act, ‘The Monster Bash,’ and you can do it to that new remake of the song, ‘The Monster Mash.’ It’s really creepy and kind of disco. But it’s almost Halloween, and I can do a theme party. All right? Say you’ll do it. I’ll show you how. It’s a cinch.” Another thought seemed to occur to him. “You don’t mind taking all your clothes off in front of an audience, do you?” Jack thought about it for a minute, and then shook his head. “No.” “Great, that’s great. What’s your last name, by the way? I have to start drawing up some posters.” Jack hesitated. “Severn. My name’s Jack Severn.”

***** Security specialist Brianna Henley was always in the wrong place at the wrong time. She had a knack for that. It had started when she was born in the back of a taxicab and had continued throughout her life. You’d think, she mused, I’d get used to it. But most people didn’t have a talent that tried to get them killed every few days. All she could do was try to be prepared. But it was hard to be prepared for a gun stuck up your nose. The mugger had taken someone’s purse and had just started to open it, when Brianna came around the corner. She shouldn’t have been there. The alley was deserted, and rain had started to fall harder. She’d just stuck her head around the corner on a hunch. She had to stop listening to that voice in her head, she thought, as the mugger glanced up, saw her, did a double take, and snatched a gun out of his sweatshirt pocket. “Get the fuck outta here,” the mugger growled, pointing the gun at her face. Brianna didn’t argue. She stepped back, slipped her own gun out of her side holster, and ducked behind a handy Dumpster. The mugger, wanting to make sure she’d beat it, stuck his head around the corner of the Dumpster.

They should know better than to do that, thought Brianna, as she put her gun back into her holster and nudged the fallen mugger with the toe of her shoe. The mugger moaned. A huge lump grew on his temple as she watched. Interesting how some people bruised easier than others, she thought. Taking her cell phone from her pocket, she dialed Jeffrey at the

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police station. While she dialed, she unzipped the mugger’s pants and pulled them down. He had white underwear. Not her style, but she peeked at his equipment anyway. She couldn’t help it. Not very interesting; the guy was knocked out. A limp dick. Light brown pubic hair. Skinny, pale thighs. Her lips curled. Knocking over little old ladies for their purses didn’t build up much muscle. Jeffrey answered, and she shifted the phone to her other ear. “Hi, it’s me, Brianna. I found someone unconscious at the corner of Livingston and Domino Street.” She stared at the mugger’s cock. A raindrop hit it. “Right.” Jeffrey paused. “You wouldn’t happen to know why he’s unconscious, or tell me why you called me and not an ambulance?” Brianna laughed. “I don’t want to get involved. If my name gets around, I’m toast in this business. Come and pick him up; I’ll hang around and make sure he doesn’t disappear. He took some lady’s handbag, and I bet you’ll love being the hero that brings it back intact.” “You know me so well,” he said with a chuckle. “Oh, Brianna, make sure his pants are back on when we get there.” She hung up. He also knew her very well. Brianna could picture Jeffrey at his desk, leaning back in his chair, his long legs crossed, his handsome face crinkled in a wide smile. Her downfall had been that smile. They’d worked together for almost two years. Then Brianna had cracked. She’d made a pass at her partner. Her very happily married partner. He’d refused, of course. But it meant she couldn’t work with him any longer. She had left the force. It wasn’t easy being a nymphomaniac working in a man’s world. She got her thrills undressing men. Patting down suspects had been her favorite pastime in the force. Now she had to make do with her imagination, and whatever petty crooks she could knock out on the street. She sighed. What was it about a man that made her want to rip his clothes off and stare at his naked body? She yanked the mugger’s pants back up and zipped them. She had to get a boyfriend. A shiver ran through her. No, there was no way. No way, no how, not yet. She’d had a normal life for a while. After she left the force she’d gotten her bodyguard license and set herself up in her apartment overlooking the docks. Office and living quarters. A river view. She’d found herself a boyfriend. He was younger than she by about three years. A nice kid. A college student. An architecture major. Handsome as all hell. He’d loved taking his clothes off in front of her. And her normal life ended when he died within a month of meeting her. Jeez, why start thinking of him now? She’d been seeing a shrink for the last year, and it still didn’t make any sense. None of it did. One minute they’d been dancing together. The next minute, she’d ended up on the floor, and there was blood… “Shit.” The mugger groaned and tried to sit up. “Not a chance.” Brianna gave him a shove with her foot. “Down, boy.” She hunched a little closer to the brick wall to get out of the rain. The weather was typical end of October.

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Samantha Winston

Gray, rainy, cold, and depressing. She hated October. It was the month her boyfriend got killed, and the month the Heart Taker, as he called himself, had made headlines. Most policemen hate October. If you ask them, they’ll tell you October and December are the cruelest months of all -- April and tax time don’t even come close. Halloween was just a week away. Brianna shivered and looked bleakly out at the rain hitting the blacktop. All the weirdos would be out that night, and somewhere among them was the sickest one of all. The Heart Taker. A monster who ripped his victims’ hearts out and left a poem in its place. What had her boyfriend’s been? “Roses are red, violets are blue. I need a heart, so I’ll take one from you.” The mugger groaned again, but Brianna ignored him. Headlights and a blue, flashing light came toward her. She didn’t wait around. As soon as the car stopped, she ducked around the corner onto the main street. The full force of the rain hit her, lashing her face and drenching her clothes. Almost instinctively, she pushed the nearest door open and walked in. She looked up, realized where she was, and nearly walked straight back out again, but the warmth was intoxicating, and besides, the place had completely changed. It wasn’t a discotheque anymore. A purple neon sign saying THE PURPLE DEE hung over the bar. The sign featured a man with a naked torso pushing his pants down. Brianna’s interest quickened. The place had changed, and it reeked class and fun. Royal purple velvet. Chandeliers. A small stage. Was that a poolroom through those swinging doors? Nice. Her muscles relaxed a fraction. She looked around. Just coming off the stage was a man with a striking, sharp-edged face, and waist-length blond hair. He buttoned up his shirt as he stepped lightly down the stairs, intently talking to someone whose back was to her. The blond man made a gesture, and she heard him say, “You don’t mind taking all your clothes off in front of an audience, do you?” The man in front of him shook his head. “No. I’ll do the audition, no problem.” Brianna chuckled as she approached. He’d better not mind. This was a burlesque strip club, judging from the sign over the bar. She’d love to see the audition. She’d love to watch the show. The young man had broad shoulders and dark, tousled hair. Just what she preferred. She hoped she could get something to drink, though. Something strong. The blond man smiled. “Great, that’s great. What’s your last name, by the way? I have to start drawing up some posters.” The dark-haired man hesitated. “Severn. My name’s Jack Severn.” Brianna missed a step and nearly crashed to the floor. All at once the air seemed too thick, and a strange buzzing sounded in her head. She shook it hard. No. She must have misheard. He’d said something else. But then he turned and looked at her.

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The bottom dropped out of her world. Things got a little tricky. She couldn’t seem to remember how to breathe. Black spots danced in front of her eyes, and her chest ached and ached. “Jack?” she whispered. Somehow air got back into her lungs. She found she was sitting on the floor. She looked up. He was standing over her, his face dreadfully ashen. “Brianna? Is it you? Brianna?” “Yes. And I think I just peed my pants.” She started to shake. “Who are you? Is this some kind of joke? What’s the punch line? What’s the punch line?” She kept asking that as the black spots in her vision got bigger and bigger, and she keeled over. It wasn’t, she reflected, an altogether stupid question.

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Samantha Winston

Chapter Three Murder on the Dance Floor Another bit of memory slammed into Jack when he saw Brianna. It was like remembering a car crash. Things came back to him in bright bursts of light and sound. He knew her. As soon as he saw her freckles, wide, honey brown eyes, and shoulder-length, wavy auburn hair, he remembered her name. That was all he could remember. But it was enough. He’d been dancing with her too. That was the part that slammed into him. Dancing -- and suddenly a blinding pain worse than anything he could have imagined…then death. There was the light, the feeling of peace, the dizziness…and afterward, nothing. Absolutely nothing, until that morning when he’d woken up. He thought of all that as he stared at the woman sitting on the floor. She stared back and babbled something about a joke and a punch line before slumping over. Dee shook his shoulder, none too gently. “Who the hell are you?” “My name is Jack Severn, and I died here.” He looked wildly around. Things were beginning to sink in. The feeling of being in a bad dream persisted, though. There was nothing but numbness in his limbs and a sort of cotton-wool stuffiness in his ears. “I died here. I really did. And now, for some reason…I’m back.” He clutched at his chest. Now he knew what was missing. The sound and feel of his heart pounding in terror. Stillness iced his limbs. “I don’t believe it.” Dee reached behind himself, groped for a chair, and sat down hard. Brianna opened her eyes and sat up, her color coming back in patches on her cheeks. “Believe him, buddy.” She let out a huge breath and shook her head. “Even though I don’t believe it either.”

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Jack got down on his knees next to Brianna. “What happened to me?” He wanted to hear that nothing had happened, that he was imagining it all, and that he’d wake up from this nightmare in a minute. Maybe she’d tell him it was all some sort of elaborate joke. “You were murdered right here, on the dance floor.” That was not a very funny joke. “I mean, what happened to me now? Why am I back?” She looked at him, her eyes full of terror. “I haven’t the faintest idea.” “I don’t believe it,” said Dee. Jack hated the look in Brianna’s eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt anyone.” She blinked tears back and sniffed. “I know. It’s just such a shock, that’s all.” A thought occurred to Jack. A cop. Brianna used to be a cop. His memory moved in jerks, like a cranky car that kept stalling. But things were coming back to him. What did she do now? He wasn’t sure. But he was sure she’d told him she’d once been a cop. “Do you still work with the police?” “No, but I still have close ties with them.” She rubbed her eyes and sniffed. “Why?” “I want you to find out who killed me.” Brianna frowned. “Everyone knows who killed you. A mutant serial killer. He’s struck several more times since you were killed. Each time he does the same thing. He rips out the victim’s heart and leaves a love poem in its place.” “Oh.” Jack thought about that. It didn’t seem right to be resuscitated and come all the way back to find out it wasn’t for revenge. “So he’s in jail now. I thought maybe there was a reason I was here…” His voice trailed off. He’d had some bad days in his life, but nothing could beat this. “He’s not in prison.” Dee still looked like he wanted to puke, but his color was slowly coming back. “No one can catch him. No one knows who he really is. He’s a goddamn mutant, able to move faster than the speed of light.” Great. He was some sort of living dead who’d been killed by a mutant. Jack’s depression deepened. As if to drive home the point, a clap of thunder shook the building, and another sweep of rain pounded the roof. Brianna heaved a sigh. “Can you go get me a towel or something? I really did pee my pants.” “Oh. Yeah. Sorry about that.” Jack got to his feet and looked at Dee, who waved toward the bar. “Over there.” He took Brianna’s hand and helped her up. “My name’s Dee Martin, by the way. This is my club, The Purple Dee. Why don’t I lend you a pair of pants? I have a pair that will fit you.”

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Brianna nodded. “I’m Brianna Henley. Security specialist, and yes, I’d love to borrow a pair of pants.” Jack found a towel and gave it to Brianna, and she darted into the ladies’ room to change. His hands shook, but he knew why. A mutant serial killer had ripped his heart out. He still didn’t remember much. He didn’t push it. Too much, too soon. Somehow he knew that it was a survival thing. He’d rather not remember getting killed, anyway. The memory of the blinding pain was there -- but it was numbed. What he remembered best was the light. And light was not the right word for it. It was more than just light -- it was somehow mixed with sound and touch and emotion…with love. It was as if love had become something you could see, hear, and feel. That’s what it was. Thinking of the light focused him and calmed his tortured spirit. “Yoo-hoo! Jack!” He jumped. Brianna waved her hand in front of his face. “Boy, did you space out. What were you thinking?” “Something,” he answered. After a pause, he added, “I have to tell you that I don’t remember very much.” “Tell us what you do know.” He liked her voice, low and yet vibrant. “My name. Your name. This place. Dancing…that’s about it. I’m not sure who I am or who you are, really. I woke up in my coffin, and it was like a bad dream. It’s still like a dream.” Jack went over and sat down on a barstool. He fiddled with a salt shaker and toyed with a napkin. “I don’t know who I am, or what I did before I…died. I don’t know if I have family or where I used to live. All I know is that I have to find something that’s missing, and now I know what it is -- I have to find my heart and stop the killer.” Brianna stood in front of him and put her hands on his knees. “I met you at the outdoor market on a Sunday. You were on a bike, and you ran into me when I stepped off the curb. It wasn’t your fault. It was crowded, and someone shoved me from behind. Anyhow, we hit it off and started to date. You invited me to this club one night. It was a disco back then, and not very cool, but I thought, what the hell.” She shrugged. “Wrong place, wrong time.” “I still can’t fucking believe it.” Dee went behind the bar and took three glasses out. He poured three shots of whiskey and drank one. The others he set in front of Jack and Brianna. “I think we should call the cops. And a doctor. And National Geographic. Or the Enquirer. I saw an article about a zombie once in that magazine. I bet they would know what to do.” He poured himself another drink. It seemed unreal. Dead. No heart. Removable limbs. Numbness. “Maybe the Enquirer isn’t such a bad idea.” Jack’s shoulders sagged. “You’re kidding, right?” Brianna downed her drink and held her glass out to Dee. “More.” “I can sell my story as an exclusive scoop.” Even to his own ears, he sounded maudlin.

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“What about the police?” Dee asked. Brianna shook her head. “It will just get too complicated. Let’s wait for a while on that.” “And no doctors either.” Jack shuddered. “All right. No doctors. But hold on. I have an idea.” Brianna snapped her fingers, making Jack jump. “What about a voodoo queen? I heard about one. I’ve got a friend who saw her, and she told me the woman was pretty amazing. Let me call my friend and ask for her address.” “Sounds good to me,” said Dee. Jack looked at his glass, undecided. He picked it up and sniffed at it. His zombie nose didn’t pick up a scent. He put the glass to his lips and tipped it, letting the warm liquid slide into his mouth. Damn. Hardly any taste. He drank some more. Maybe there was a faint taste now, coming back. He held his glass out and mimicked Brianna. “More.” After he’d done that four more times, he was starting to think he might be tasting something. “More, pleash.” Hmmm. Not bad. He tried to put the glass down and somehow missed the counter. The glass bounced twice and rolled under the stool. Luckily, it didn’t break, but it had been half full. Or half empty. However you wanted to look at it, thought Jack glumly. “I think you’ve had enough to drink,” said Dee. “Are you still interested in the show? Because I don’t have anyone lined up, and I really need to get someone. I was serious about the Monster Bash. It will be a great Halloween idea. I’ll get the music ready and find a costume for you. I’ll teach you the moves; it’s dead easy. Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say ‘dead.’ I mean, don’t worry, anyone can do it…” He was talking too fast. Jack couldn’t take it all in. “Hush, you two, I just got through to my friend.” Brianna held up her hand for silence. “Katie? It’s Brianna Henley. Listen, I need your help. What was the name of that voodoo queen you saw last month? Mémé Hoya? Where does she live?” Jack frowned. Who? Mémé Hoya? Now Brianna was saying something about voodoo and zombies. He gave a little hiccup. A zombie. He’d never thought he’d end up as a zombie. He seemed to recall wanting to be a fireman when he was a kid. He tried to remember more about his childhood and came up with a blank. He tried to concentrate, but kept getting distracted by Brianna. She looked adorable. He hoped they’d done more than just date and go dancing. She hung up and frowned at him. “Katie said to just drop in on the voodoo queen. Says we don’t need an appointment.” “Mémé Hoya? Mémé?” Brianna shrugged. “Mémé means grandma in French, and Katie says she’s from Haiti. What do you say, Jack? Want to come with me?” “I’m coming too,” said Dee.

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Jack thought it was touching. His two best friends in the whole world were taking him to a grandmother voodoo queen. They cared. He wanted to thank them. He wanted to cry. He got off his barstool, tripped, and tried to catch himself. His arm fell off again. His two new best friends screamed and ran away from him.

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Chapter Four The Voodoo Queen Jack hadn’t known what to expect. But it wasn’t the short, round woman standing in the middle of a gaily decorated, cozy apartment. She didn’t look like any grandmother he’d known. The woman was about four feet tall and almost as wide. She had light brown skin and short gray hair, and wore a red silk dress with several colorful red aprons and scarves tied around her waist. She had glass bead necklaces and silver hoop earrings. When she moved her arms, a myriad of silver and multicolored glass bracelets tinkled like chimes. Purple eye shadow and bright fuchsia lipstick completed the picture. Mémé Hoya’s apartment consisted of a large room with a table, a bookshelf, a bed behind a curtained alcove, and a television set. The kitchen was visible through an open door. One whole wall was windows. It had been part of a derelict factory. The woman smiled as she watched him take everything in. “Do you like it?” Her voice was deep, and she had an accent he couldn’t place. “It’s nice,” he admitted. “It’s small, but the use of space makes it look bigger than it is. The girders add a lot of atmosphere and using the old elevator cage to define the kitchen area is a clever touch. I especially like the floor-to-ceiling windows. Too bad the view isn’t better.” “You seem to know a lot about architecture. Maybe you were an architect before you became a zombie?” If she’d punched him, he wouldn’t have been more surprised. “You know I’m a zombie? Does it show that much?” Worry shot through him. He wouldn’t even be able to go out on the streets. “No, but I’m a vodoun m’ambo. You can’t pull the wool over Mémé Hoya’s eyes. My loa, Sally, said you were coming and that you had a problem. I’ve seen zombies before, so I

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recognized you right away. But don’t worry.” She patted him on the arm. “No one else will be able to tell -- unless one of your limbs drops off or something like that.” She gave a chuckle. “It’s not funny. It scared us to death,” said Brianna. “Well, come on over here and sit down. Have some tea.” The table was set for four, Jack realized, with a white, lacy tablecloth and a silver bowl full of bright yellow candy in the middle. Mémé Hoya poured tea from a beautiful china teapot into four delicate cups. “It’s Earl Grey. Has a nice bergamot bouquet. You’ll like it. There are some lemon drops in that bowl there. Help yourselves.” Jack wasn’t sure what bergamot was, but the tea smelled nice. He sat down, took a lemon drop, and sucked on it. The tart taste almost got through the numb, cardboard sensation he had. For the first time since he’d woken up, he started to feel better. He’d been terrified, angry, hurt, hungover, and achy. And when his arm fell off and scared Dee and Brianna, he’d been afraid he’d lost the only two friends he had. But Brianna came back when she saw him slumped on the floor and helped him put his arm back in place, and Dee had made him some strong coffee to clear his head. They’d walked through the cold drizzle to Mémé Hoya’s place, and that had cleared his head even more. He took another sip of tea and sighed. Maybe things were finally looking up. “Mémé Hoya, is there any cure for me?” He set the teacup down carefully. “I’m afraid not.” She grimaced. “Probably not what you wanted to hear, was it? But look on the bright side. You’re immortal, like a vampire, but you don’t have the inconvenience of being allergic to sunlight.” “My arm keeps falling off,” Jack muttered. He was starting to feel awful again. He hadn’t wanted to hear that he was stuck being a zombie forever. “It could be worse. You’re put together pretty solid. I’m not sure who made you a zombie, but whoever it was had incredible talent.” “How could it be worse?” Dee asked. He made a face. “Vampires are cool. Zombies are, well, kind of gross.” “Thanks,” said Jack. “It could be worse. More than his arm could fall off,” Mémé Hoya said. “Some zombies are barely held together. They take a step, and their foot falls off. They sneeze and their…” “All right. I get the picture.” Jack held up his hand. “I don’t. What happens if they sneeze?” Dee looked interested. “I don’t want to know!” cried Jack. Chills ran up his spine. “You might want to find out more about your new body,” said Brianna.

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That was good advice. Jack closed his eyes, thought for a minute, opened them, and asked Mémé Hoya, “Will I turn green?” He had to know. “Not if you take care of yourself. It’s simple. The zombies you see in films or books who are all decrepit and falling apart…” “With flies buzzing around them,” said Dee helpfully. “Hush. They are decrepit because they weren’t made by magic, they were made by chemistry. There are two different kinds of zombies; some zombies are made by a necromancer who uses a potent magic that defeats death, and the result is something like a vampire. And there are those who are made by a zombie master who become nothing but slaves to their master.” Mémé Hoya reached over and patted Jack’s hand. “What we have to know is who made you. Tell me something, how did you die?” “The Heart Taker killed him last October,” Brianna spoke up. Mémé Hoya flinched. “No heart left? That’s very bad news. There were more victims, weren’t there?” Brianna nodded. “How many, including Jack?” “Four, no, five, and I believe Jack was the first one.” Brianna looked at Dee, who nodded. “And so the Heart Taker started killing a year ago,” Mémé Hoya murmured to herself. “Does this mean there are more zombies? Did the Heart Taker make Jack a zombie?” Jack thought Brianna’s questions were good, so he leaned forward to listen to the answer. Mémé Hoya folded her hands beneath her chin and thought. “We might want to find out where the other victims are buried. If they’re zombies too, we’ll have a better idea of what’s going on. But the Heart Taker didn’t make Jack, I’m sure of that.” “More zombies?” Jack wasn’t sure if he was horrified or interested. Could zombies marry and have kids? He took another sip of his tea, wishing that his head would clear and the dreamlike state would leave him. He still felt curiously numb. He eyed Mémé Hoya. Maybe she could help with that. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me, but I was wondering if you could…” Mémé Hoya raised her hand. “Quiet. Sally is here.” Brianna choked on her tea and looked around wildly. Mémé Hoya had mentioned Sally earlier. Her loa, she’d called her. A loa was a spirit. Sometimes they were nice, and other times they were spiteful and malicious. Brianna knew all about voodoo and loas. You don’t live in the south and ignore the old beliefs and religions. Brianna had always paid attention to everything around her. She was one of those people who constantly searched for answers, was open-minded, and absorbed everything she heard and saw, so when Mémé Hoya

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announced her loa was near, an icy trickle ran down Brianna’s back. Almost like someone had run cold fingers along her spine. “Sally, leave the lady alone.” Mémé Hoya glared at a spot just above Brianna’s right shoulder. Brianna held her breath, and suddenly a whispery breath of chilled air touched her ear. “She likes you.” Mémé Hoya chuckled. “Where is she?” “She’s standing right behind you,” Jack said. “You can see her?” Brianna’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, of course he can, child. He’s dead. Just like Sally. The dead can see the dead. Now, let’s try to solve this mystery, all right?” Brianna didn’t dare move until the unpleasantly cold tingle had stopped. This was turning out to be the strangest day of her life. First her boyfriend became a zombie and came back to life. And after that, they all went to see a voodoo queen, and a loa with icy fingertips took a shine to her. But even as a zombie, Jack was hot. She had to stop thinking that. Jack watched as a teenage girl sashayed into the room and touched Brianna’s shoulder. The girl stared at Jack, and he stared back. She was a small, black girl with many little braids on her head, each sticking straight out so that it looked almost comical. Almost, but not quite. There was something sad about the young girl. “Sally, come here, dear.” Mémé Hoya pointed down to a spot near her, and Jack suddenly noticed an intricate symbol drawn with white chalk or paint on the floor. “What’s that?” he asked. “A vévé. It will help Sally concentrate on the task at hand,” replied Mémé Hoya. The slim girl flounced over to the vévé and sat down in it, taking care to smooth her long skirt over her bony knees. She was dressed in a sort of slave-girl style, a long, white dress, and a starched apron, both far too big for her slender frame. Her skin was very dark, and her eyes were long and slanted like a cat’s, suggesting East Asian blood. She was perfectly gorgeous. She winked at Jack and stuck out her tongue. “Sally, tell us about Jack, darling.” Mémé Hoya pointed at Jack, and the loa tilted her head. “He’s dead.” She sounded bored. Brianna and Dee leaned forward. “Did she answer?” asked Dee. “I didn’t hear anything,” Brianna said. “Shhhh. Sally said he was dead, that’s all,” said Mémé Hoya.

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Jack felt something snap inside him, and he stood up, nearly tipping the table over, and yelled, “Will everyone stop rubbing it in? I know I’m dead! Just drop it, all right?” Mémé Hoya clapped her hands. “You’re so good, Sally. Just the thing to jar him out of his apathy.” She tugged on Jack’s hand. “Sit down, sugar. Sally is just doing her job.” “Which is to hurt me?” he asked sulkily. “No, to help you.” Mémé Hoya shook her head. “It’s gonna hurt something wicked. But at least you’ll start to feel things again and get rid of that veil that’s covering you.” “Veil? What veil?” “Your caul, if you prefer. The zombie master affixed it to you. The one wrapping you up to protect you. It’s a veil between two worlds. You don’t need it anymore. You know you’re dead. That’s the most important thing. Now you need your memories. Sally, can you rip that veil off him?” “Yessum.” Sally gave a little sniff. “I ain’t done it in a while, though. Where’d you find that zombie? He’s the first one I’ve seen in over a century!” As she spoke, she got up and leaned forward. Her feet never left the pentagon, but her hands touched Jack’s face, and a stabbing pain shot from her fingertips into his head, straight down to his toes. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t even cry out. The pain was so intense it took all his concentration just to stay conscious. “No, let yourself go. Dive into the pain. Come on. It hurts, but if you let it take you, it will be over soon. Don’t fight it,” Sally crooned. “What’s happening?” Dee and Brianna stared at him, their eyes wide. A cloud of gold and silver sparks suddenly filled the air around Jack. Dee and Brianna uttered twin screams and lurched away from the table. Mémé Hoya seemed prepared for their reaction and seized them each by the wrist. “Sit down, it’s not over yet.” “But he’s covered with light!” Brianna gasped. “It’s magic.” Mémé Hoya sounded almost euphoric. “Magic of the highest kind. Jack, you were made by a master.” Jack couldn’t answer. The light blinded him, and the pain was like a thousand knives boring into him. How could he not fight the pain? For a minute he tried to fight, but his defenses collapsed. He stopped resisting the pain. A terrible jolt shook him, and for a second, he thought he’d been struck by lightning. His skull seemed to crack open, and he remembered. It wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. After all, they were his memories, and they didn’t all wash over him at once, drowning him. Rather they simply appeared where they should be -in his mind, in their proper places, ready to be called forth if need be. And what was wonderful was the feeling of looseness, of relaxation, as his muscles finally un-knotted, and his head stopped hurting. Sounds became clearer, and paradoxically, Sally grew fainter. Her outlines blurred.

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“You’ve come back to the land of the living,” said Mémé Hoya, satisfaction in her voice. “You’re still dead, but you’re in this world now. Your mind and body have become one again.” “Is that why I can’t see Sally so well anymore?” Jack peered at the loa, who stuck her tongue at him again. But she was grinning. “Thank you,” he said to her. The loa looked surprised. “That’s right. Brianna and Dee can’t see her at all. I can see her because I was born a spirit talker. I see the dead. You can see her because you are dead. You can go now, Sally. You’ve done a good deed.” The loa curtseyed and stepped out of the vévé. She hung around Dee and seemed to admire his long, blond hair, before vanishing. “He’s still covered with light.” Brianna’s voice wavered. “It will fade. It’s because he was made by a necromancer with high magic. I told you so.” Mémé Hoya pointed her finger at Brianna and shook it sternly. “Pay attention. Remember. There are two sorts of zombies. Don’t forget. The kind made with chemicals, the common ones, the ones you see on television. They are made by a bokor. Their souls have been captured and held against their will, usually in a clay jar. And there are the lucky ones, held to life with magic, like the vampires or the necromancers. The gold you saw, the light, and the sparks, are all part of Jack’s soul.” “It’s…beautiful.” Brianna’s face was still pale, but bright patches of pink washed her cheeks. “I never imagined anything like it.” “You can even say he glows,” Dee quipped and then coughed. “Sorry.” Jack held his hand out and flexed it. It didn’t tremble anymore. Warmth and awareness flowed through him, instead of that icy numbness. He had the impression he’d just woken up from a dream. Only the nightmare still continued. He was still dead. His arm would still pop off if pulled, and he was immortal, but not as debonair chic as a vampire. Some people have all the luck. “You’ll get used to it.” Mémé Hoya smiled at him. “Now, I have a book around here somewhere about taking care of your new body.” She got up and rummaged through a drawer in her dresser. “Ah, here it is. It’s a journal, but the author wrote it almost like a handbook. Rather old and worn, but interesting reading.” “Thank you.” Jack took the yellowed book, careful of the brittle pages, and looked at the leather cover. “It looks like someone’s diary.” He opened it. It had been written in an old-fashioned, spidery script, but he could read it. Dee leaned over and read aloud, “Care and Treatment of Zombies, by Frank N. Stein.” Brianna shot tea out of her nose and choked. “Let me see that.” “Just kidding.” Dee handed her a napkin. “It says, The Journal of a New Zombie. No author.”

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Jack opened the diary. On the first page was an introduction by someone who had become a zombie, and afterward, there were chapters. “Introduction. Today is my one hundred and fiftieth anniversary as a zombie, and I

have decided to write this journal to help those who may need it. I was lucky to have a good, caring master, but others may not have that chance, and this book is for them. The things I learned or found out by myself will be carefully compiled here. You will see that with a little care and good sense, you can keep healthy and fit.” Jack thought it was rather dry and skipped ahead to the chapter titled, “Keeping It All Together.” “As a necromancer’s zombie, I have found that a zombie’s body is only as good as the spell that binds it. The stronger the spell, the stronger the force holding everything together. But even with a weak force, certain exercises can help.” He skipped to another section. “Diet. Vitally important is a good diet. We zombies burn calories at a fast rate, and yet we have very fragile stomachs. Things I know now to avoid at all cost: vinegar, pink champagne, strawberries…” “Is it helpful?” Dee wanted to know. Jack looked up. “Yes, it is. He was made by a necromancer, the same way I was made, but he doesn’t say how it happened.” Mémé Hoya pushed her teacup aside and leaned her arms on the table. “I can tell you how, that’s easy. With magic. What interests me is who made you. I say we visit the morgue.” “Why couldn’t it have been the Heart Taker?” Brianna wanted to know. “Because he stole Jack’s heart. A zombie master doesn’t do things like that if he has any pride in his work. And Jack was well made, I can assure you.” Well, that made him feel a little better. “I’d like to meet the person who made me,” murmured Jack. “I need to ask him why he did it.” “Most of the time zombies are made for a specific purpose. This makes me wonder if Jack truly was…” Mémé Hoya stopped and pursed her mouth. “Let’s not say any more until we meet your maker. Do you remember which morgue you were in?” “Er, no. I was dead.”

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Chapter Five The Heart Taker Brianna pulled her agenda out of her purse and looked at it. If she didn’t hurry, she’d be late. She stood up. “Well, I have to be going. I have an appointment on the other side of the city this evening.” “We’re going to the morgue. Don’t you want to come with us?” Jack asked her. “I can’t. My client is expecting me.” Brianna stuck her schedule back in her purse. She hesitated and then blurted, “There’s room in my apartment if you want to stay with me.” Jack blinked. “That’s awfully nice of you.” “Well, we did go out for a while.” “I know.” He nodded. “I remember your place.” Brianna felt her cheeks get hot. The only time he’d been there, she’d asked him to take his clothes off and spend the day naked. He’d loved it, if she remembered correctly. A match made in heaven. Now it was more like the couple from hell. A dead guy and a woman who had lost all interest in men, except for pulling strangers’ pants down. She ducked her head and fished her keys out of her purse. “Here’s the key to the front door of the building and to my apartment. I’ll keep the one to the back door. That way you can come in and out as you like.” She hadn’t meant to invite him, but the words had just popped out of her mouth. And once out, it felt right, somehow. “Thanks.” He gave her a boyish grin. Damn. That smile. Those dimples. Somehow he was even better looking now than when he’d been alive. He made Jeffrey look anemic, and Jeffrey was the hottest guy she knew. Get a hold of yourself, girl. He’s sleeping on the guest couch, and he’s a zombie. “Right. I’ll see you there as soon as I figure out what my client wants from me.” She stood on tiptoe and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Smooth cheek. Faint smell of dirt.

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To Dee, she said, “I’ll give you back your pants as soon as I wash them. Thanks for lending them to me.” “No problem.” Dee gave her a hug. She wondered what he’d look like naked with just his hair hiding his cock. Since she always wondered this about men, her cheeks didn’t even burn. No one could tell what she was thinking, after all. “How much do we owe you?” she asked Mémé Hoya, reaching for her checkbook. “I haven’t sent you the bill yet. Relax. I’m not a fortune-teller. I’m a m’ambo. A vodoun queen -- or voodoo, as you like to say. I’ll see what happens after we go to the morgue. You have to relax and stop worrying, or you’ll end up with an ulcer.” She paused and whispered in Brianna’s ear, “There’s nothing wrong in admiring the male body, you know. You’ll get over wanting to look at strangers when you find the right man to look at.” Brianna managed a faint smile as she backed out the door, carefully thinking uninteresting thoughts about dancing teddy bears. She headed down the stairs three at a time and caught the tramway at the station across the street. It rattled and clattered through the city, heading toward the suburbs. Soon crammed-together tenant apartments gave way to residential areas boasting parks and shopping malls. Those became the riverside as the tram headed west. It crossed the river near Christmas Junction, and as always, Brianna craned her neck to get a view of the city from this side of the river. The sun was starting to set. Orange light bathed the tall buildings and turned the water to a gold swath of rippled silk. Sunlight glittered from a thousand windows on the skyscrapers. Somewhere, among those thousands of lights, must be a man who could satisfy her and make those fireworks happen. She pressed her forehead against the window and watched as the tram went around the river bend, and the city was lost to sight. She thought about what Mémé Hoya had said. She knew there was nothing wrong with looking at men’s bodies. Her shrink had told her that. The shrink also said she would grow out of it when she found the right person for her. When she fell in love again. She didn’t know what to think about Jack, though. Zombies might be a dime a dozen in horror movies -- in real life they were mostly stories you read about in comic books. Mutants were another story. Since the last fallout from Chernobyl was traced, mutants had appeared with frightening regularity. First in the Eastern Bloc, then in Europe, and finally in North and South America. “I’m just nervous about the mutant,” Brianna said to herself, the clattering tram covering the sound of her voice. “Damn thing moves so fast, if it comes in, I’ll be powerless to stop it. Remember what happened last time.” She’d been debriefed about that incident so many times it was like a litany in her head, thought Brianna glumly. The attack had been violent, sudden, and invisible. At first, the police had thought she was dying too, had pried her hands off Jack and loaded her onto a stretcher. She’d been covered from head to foot in blood. But she hadn’t had a scratch on her. In the hospital she’d

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started babbling about the noise, and they’d brought her in to the station where she’d stayed for damn near a week. The thing was, she’d heard the Heart Taker. He had made a buzzing sound. She’d tried to describe it. Scientists and detectives had quizzed her about it. They’d played tapes for her and had her listen for hours, listen for a buzzing sound similar to the one she’d heard in the discotheque. They discovered that her hearing was acute. Maybe not mutant level, but far more finely tuned than a normal human’s. The police scientist finally figured that what she heard was the Heart Taker as he literally moved through time, displacing air molecules with the speed of light. Hoping her sight was as developed, they had her watch the security video over and over. It was grainy and rough, even after being cleaned up by the pros, and it showed a bunch of happy people on a dance floor. It hadn’t been very crowded that night, so the film showed everyone pretty well. There was Brianna and Jack, doing a funny two-step together and laughing about something stupid. Brianna spun around, and Jack sort of exploded. A wave of nausea always accompanied this memory. She clenched her teeth and squeezed her eyes closed. Each time, she’d watched the film with the hope she would see something that would give her a clue, something that would jar her memory. All she ever saw or remembered was spinning around and coming face-to-face with Jack again and thinking his eyes were strange. Jack collapsing in her arms. Slipping on the blood and falling down. Getting the wind knocked out of her lungs and cracking her tailbone on the floor. Feeling Jack’s heavy body on her legs and lap. Trying to get up. Pushing him. Not comprehending why he was so still. Slipping in more blood. And then the screams. The tram shuddered to a halt, brakes squealing. Her eyes flew open; she put her hand on the back of the seat and stood up. This was her stop. Well, she thought wryly, I know that

I did learn something from the attack, so it might give me an edge if it ever happens near me again. The buzz. He moved so fast there had been a vibration in her ears. No sound -- but a tickling feeling. That’s the only thing that she could pick out of the wreckage of that night, but it was enough. She’d have to tell Jack when she saw him next.

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Chapter Six The Zombie Master Jack guessed that Mémé Hoya, Dee, and he made a strange threesome. Dee’s long, blond hair attracted glances. Mémé Hoya’s short stature and colorful attire attracted more. And everyone turned and stared at him. Maybe it was the unearthly pallor he had. He’d caught sight of himself in the mirror at Mémé Hoya’s house. His black hair and blue eyes shone. Now that the veil had been ripped away, he definitely seemed different than an ordinary human. Something about him shone like a newly minted penny. It was indescribable, but clearly seen. Plus, he hadn’t done such a bad job with his haircut after all. As they walked down the street, Jack couldn’t help thinking about Brianna. He’d remembered her, but nothing specific, like, had they made love? She’d invited him to stay at her apartment, but maybe she was counting on him sleeping in the guest room. He could recall her apartment, but for some reason, only the living room. Had he even been in her bedroom? By the time they got to the tram station, several ways of casually asking her if they’d slept together had crossed his mind. “Did the earth move for you when we made love?” No, that sucked. How about, “Do you feel the same about me as when we first made love?” Even worse. The only way to ask was straight out, “Did we ever make love?” and it would be embarrassing to both of them no matter how he phrased it. When they got their tickets and climbed on board the uptown cable car, he’d decided that the less he said, the better off he’d be. He’d let Brianna take the initiative. Another, more sobering thought crossed his mind. If he really was dead, would Brianna ever want to sleep with him? Would anyone? Would it be…what was that word described to making love to dead people? Necro something-or-other? Necro-romance?

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His stomach lurched at the thought. No. It wouldn’t be the same at all. He might be technically dead -- but he felt alive. All right. He didn’t have a heartbeat. But his skin was warm. According to the journal, his body burned food as fuel. Most everything functioned as it used to. But with a strong spell, not with…his thoughts were interrupted by Mémé Hoya’s words. She looked seriously at Jack, leaned forward, and took his hands in hers. “What you got to know, child, is that the man who made you is your master. You will feel an irresistible urge to obey him. But you have to fight it. If you don’t, you’ll become his slave. My guess is he was waiting for you to be born so he could intercept you at the graveyard. Something must have gone wrong, and you were left on your own. He’ll be looking for you. It’s lucky you came to see me. I can help you resist him.” “Is all this in the journal?” Jack asked. “Oh, no. That book was written by a zombie still very much under the control of his master. They don’t want their slaves to be free. He’ll be tearing his hair out right now, mark my words, Jack. When you see him, he’ll try his best to bend you to his will. And you’ll see -- you’ll feel as if you won’t be able to withstand him. But you have to stand up to him. The fight won’t last long. Once a zombie defies his master, he’s free. Remember that. You must not let your spirit be cowed.” “Hell, no,” cried Dee. “I need you for the show. Just remember that. The show. You’re going to be a star. Don’t end up like some mindless zombie.” He stopped and looked at Mémé Hoya. “Is that where that expression comes from? Zombies are mindless slaves following a master?” “Exactly.” She looked worried, new wrinkles creasing her face. “The spell used on Jack is incredibly strong. So I can only assume that the master will be strong as well. We can’t underestimate him. By going to meet him, we’ve got the advantage of surprise. He won’t be expecting us. He’ll be out looking for Jack.” “Where will he be looking?” Jack wanted to know. “In and around the cemetery. He won’t have expected you to remember anything. The fact you remembered your name and where you were killed tells me that you are a very strong person.” Jack didn’t feel particularly strong. He glanced out the window and winced. Mile after mile of trailer park flashed by. This looked familiar. More memories hit him. He’d seen this before. Set up after the storm of the century for the victims of the hurricane, the park had been intended to be temporary shelter. But most of the people who moved in were too poor to move out again, and with wages cut and jobs scarce, the trailer park turned into a permanent eyesore. It was huge and didn’t have a name. But the roads going through it were full of potholes; derelict trucks and cars rusted on nearly every corner. Silent kids stood and watched as the tram rattled by. There were two stops serving the trailer park. Named in a vain effort to glorify the spot, one was Salvation Junction, and the

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other was Fresh Start Station. Both were run-down and beat-up. The city police morgue was the next stop. It was where murder victims were taken. Mémé Hoya stood up and took her umbrella. “Our stop,” she announced. Jack met Dee’s glance. “It’ll be fine. Mémé Hoya said you’re strong. I’m betting on you,” Dee said. Jack wished Dee had sounded surer. The station was nearly empty. The sun was starting to set. In a while, everything would be closed. Dee held the gate open for Mémé Hoya and Jack and followed them up the cement walkway to Public Morgue number twenty-two. A sign directed them into a large entry where neon lights made everything look faintly greenish. At the front counter, a large, blonde woman in a black dress spoke into a phone. She waved them toward seats as they came in, but Mémé Hoya would have none of that. She stood right next to the woman and stared at her. Since her nose was about level with the counter, the effect was disconcerting. Jack couldn’t see how anyone could have a phone conversation with Mémé Hoya staring so hard. The woman put her hand over the receiver and said in a twang, “What do yew-all want?” “I want to know which mortician took care of my nephew, Jack Severn.” “Yer nephew?” The woman pursed her lips. They were painted red and were very shiny. “Jack Severn,” Dee said helpfully. “Ah suppose he was yer nephew too?” Jack didn’t like the tone of the receptionist’s voice. “Yes.” Dee went to stand next to Mémé Hoya and propped his arms on the counter. “Thing is, they didn’t do such a great job with him.” “What do you mean? If you have a complaint, fill out the form.” She took a paper off a stack, clipped it to a clipboard, and shoved it across the desk at him. Dee, Mémé Hoya, and Jack looked at the form. There was a list of problems; all you had to do was put a check next to the one that concerned you. There were “Not satisfied with coffin,” “Not satisfied with service,” “Not satisfied with makeup,” “Not satisfied with music,” etcetera, etcetera, and so on. Jack looked up from the form and tapped the receptionist’s arm. “Can you just tell me which box I should check? I don’t see my particular problem here.” “Well, what is your problem?” The lady sighed into the phone. “I’ll call you back, Darla. There’s some people here.” Spoken in a tone that meant, “There are some low-life creeps standing in front of me.” Dee waited until she hung up. “They forgot to make sure he was dead.”

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Silence. “Is this some sort of joke?” Jack knew she was going to say that. But Dee leaned closer. “This is not a joke. My nephew was put into his grave still alive.” “Do you have proof of that?” the woman asked. “Yes. He’s standing right here. Jack, come say hello to the nice lady.” Jack came forward, a little shyly, and gave a small wave. “Hey, there,” he said. Dee shook his head. “No, no, no! Presence. You have to have presence. When we introduce you, you stride in. Keep your chin up. Smile. Watch.” He spun around, walked three steps away from the desk, spun around again, tossed his hair back, and stuck out his chin and chest, saying, “I’m Dee Martin.” “Dean Martin’s dead,” said the lady at the desk. She pronounced “dead” like “day-ed.” “Well, Jack Severn wasn’t, and they stuck him in a grave. Let me see the name of the mortician.” Mémé Hoya tapped an impatient finger on the clipboard. “I kin do better than that. I kin call him for you.” “Perfect.” Mémé Hoya nodded. Jack suffered a sudden case of nerves and had just been about to say, “Hang on,” but the voodoo queen raised her finger. A strange smile played about her lips. “I’ve always wanted to meet a talented zombie master,” she said. The woman behind the counter rolled her eyes as she picked up the phone and dialed. “Jim. There are three people here you should see.” She pronounced Jim “Jee-yum.” She was silent a minute, and her face became distinctly paler. “Why, yes,” she said. “One of them is Jack Severn.” She hung up and turned to them, a frown on her face. “Mr. Ling-Li will see you in his private office.” Dee leaned over the desk and handed her one of his cards as they filed past her. “Come to my club sometime. You’ll have fun.” She took the card reluctantly. Jack was nervous now. He kept telling himself he was strong. But he didn’t feel that way. He didn’t have a heart pounding in his chest -- but he did have a bead of sweat start to trickle down his back. “You ready?” murmured Mémé Hoya to him. He nodded. “Just let me do the talking at first. Listen to his voice. Try to resist it. You have to resist.” For the first time she looked worried. The door was open. They walked in. A small man in a pin-striped suit sat behind his desk. He was bald, slight, and wore glasses. He had dark brown, almost black eyes with an East Asian slant to them. His skin had a faint cast of yellow, like old paper. He had his hands folded in front of him.

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Mémé Hoya said, “Mr. Ling-Li? This person woke up wandering around the graveyard in…” He didn’t let her finish. He took his glasses off and stood up. “Jack,” he said, and Jack felt a strange tugging in his limbs, as if strings were attached to them. Mémé Hoya stepped in between them. “Mr. Ling-Li, I need to speak to you.” He looked at her, a flicker of annoyance in his gaze. “I’m talking to Jack right now.” His voice was as dry as two sheets of paper whispering together. “I’m Madame Hoya. I’m from Haiti,” she said, sticking her arm out to shake his hand. That got his attention. “Haiti?” “Oui, monsieur, and I know what you did to this child.” Jack didn’t think he qualified as a child anymore, but he kept his mouth shut. The more the strange little man spoke, the less impelled he felt to listen. “Jack, sit down.” The man indicated a chair, and Jack sank into it without thinking. It was automatic. His muscles obeyed; his mind couldn’t protest at all. Mémé Hoya didn’t look pleased. “That was unnecessary.” “If you know what I did, you must wonder why I did it.” The little man leaned over his desk, his face earnest. “Go on,” said Mémé Hoya. She took a lemon drop from her pocket and popped it into her mouth. She offered one to Mr. Ling-Li, but he shook his head. “No, thank you. When Jack’s body came in, I saw right away what had been done to him and knew it wasn’t the work of a human. I called a friend at the police department to get the whole story. He told me about the Heart Taker. A mutant who had gone mad. I had to do something.” “How did you know what to do?” Mémé Hoya interrupted. “Let me tell you that I’ve been making zombies for over two hundred years now.” Jack sat up straighter. There was no way this guy was over fifty. Dee uttered a snort, but Mémé Hoya nodded slowly. “A necromancer. I should have known. Jack is far too well made for an amateur. And animating him without his heart is quite a feat. All right. Tell us why you made Jack.” A satisfied smile creased Mr. Ling-Li’s face, only to fade and disappear. His shoulders hunched, and he sat back in his chair, suddenly looking older and rumpled. “I made Jack because he lost his heart to a mutant, and I needed a zombie with a purpose. A calling, if you wish.” Jack started to get a sinking sensation. This conversation was not going in the right direction. Purpose? Calling? At least he’d been made by a necromancer. That meant that he was powerful and that powerful magic coursed through him. He’d gleaned that much from the journal so far.

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Mr. Ling-Li continued speaking earnestly to Mémé Hoya. “You’ve realized, I’m sure, how strong he is. When I went looking for him this morning, I saw he’d gone off on his own. It gave me great hope. Jack is my best result so far.” “I don’t get it,” said Dee. “My only daughter, my sweet May, was killed. No one took the killing seriously. They said she’d committed suicide. Suicide! May loved life. She would never have done that. Besides, she’d been drained of her blood. There was not the slightest mark on her. Just pinpricks on her neck. The police couldn’t explain it, so they didn’t even try. But I knew. A vampire had killed her.” “Did you find May’s killer?” Jack had to know. Jim turned his eyes on Jack, and once again his skin prickled. The necromancer’s eyes were like two pits of darkness set in parchment. “Not I. May. She found her own killer. A vampire. She put a stake through its heart and eliminated it. That’s how I understood that I could create zombies to find their own killers. Human police are useless against supernatural creatures and most mutants.” “They have been getting bolder,” Dee remarked. “And some have become serial killers.” “That’s why I was so careful making Jack, and why I was so pleased he had such strength.” Jack suddenly realized what he’d said. “May found her own killer? You made your own daughter into a zombie?” Horror warred with fascination. The man smiled. “You’d like to meet her, wouldn’t you?” Jack couldn’t deny it. He nodded. “May, would you come out here, please?” Jack saw the door open, and if he’d had a heart, it would have been pounding a hole in his chest. May stepped out. She was exquisite. A porcelain doll with flawless skin and chinlength black hair like a silk waterfall. Her hands were so small, Jack marveled. She raised her eyes timidly and smiled at everyone in turn. She didn’t look like a zombie. She looked like a young woman. Her skin and eyes glowed. Her cheeks were faintly pink, and there was no way Jack would ever guess she was undead, like him. “Wow,” Dee breathed. “Hello, May,” said Mémé Hoya. She gave the young woman a sharp look. “Do you obey your father?” “Oh, no.” There was laughter in her voice. The sound tickled Jack’s neck and made his knees feel weak. “My father gave me complete freedom. I don’t have to obey him unless I want to.” Jack wanted to ask a thousand questions, but they all got stuck in his throat at once. The only thing that popped out was, “Does your arm fall off too?”

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Dee turned and gaped at him, Mémé Hoya gave a strangled cough, and May smiled beatifically. “My arms are fine.” She batted her eyelashes. “I have a slight weakness in my left ankle.” “It’s nothing,” said her father. He got up and kissed his daughter’s cheek. “May is a zombie, but she’s so well made you can’t tell she’s not human. The same applies to you, Jack. You are perfectly made.” “Why do I have such a weakness? If you’re so powerful, couldn’t you make my arm better?” “It’s because the evil has to have a place to leave.” The necromancer spoke seriously, and Jack listened. “Everyone has a mixture of good and evil within them. A living body has a soul, and this always tips the balance toward good. But vampires and zombies usually have no soul. My daughter will tell you that vampires are evil because they have no defect that permits evil to leave them. Perhaps this is true. In any case, even if a zombie has a soul, I always leave a defect so that the evil will leave.” “It leaves by way of my arm?” Jack frowned. “Not exactly. Necromancy is a very powerful magic and calls up both strong evil and strong good. Trapping the evil inside your body would create a monster. Believe me; I know what I’m doing. You are flawless; my magic is strong. You don’t have to worry about anything except your arm. You will stay strong and healthy.” “I have a book,” Jack said, taking it from his pocket and holding it up. Mr. Ling-Li took the book from Jack, glanced through a few pages, and nodded. Handing it back, he said, “Very good, and now you have a purpose. Jack, I’m going to give you just one command. Find the Heart Taker and stop him.” The words echoed weirdly in Jack’s mind. He’d been given an order. It was suddenly imperative to find the Heart Taker and stop him. “Yes, Master,” he found himself saying. “No, I’m not your master.” Mr. Ling-Li shook his head. “I free you to make your own decisions. Do you have a place to stay? I have prepared a room for you.” “That’s very kind, but I have a place already.” Jack was suddenly glad of Brianna’s invitation. When Mr. Ling-Li had spoken the words that freed him, he’d felt something snap inside him, just as if a rubber band had been pulled tight and broken somewhere in the vicinity of his missing heart. He didn’t like the feeling that someone had such power over him. He looked at May, but she just stared shyly at the floor. “Where are you staying?” she asked, her eyelashes fluttering a bit. Jack shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I’m, um, staying with an old friend.” May looked disappointed. “Very well. If you insist. Would you mind leaving your phone number and address so we can get in touch with you?” Jack wrote everything on a piece of paper and handed it to Mr. Ling-Li. May smiled at him.

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“Thank you, Jack. If you have any problems, call me on my private line.” He gave Jack a card. There was no name on it. Just a phone number. Jack tucked it in his pocket with the handbook. His second life had just begun.

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Chapter Seven Jack the Stripper They got back in the tram and rattled back uptown. First, Mémé Hoya got off at her station, Flag Street, and then it was Dee’s turn at Union Square Station in midtown. Jack’s stop was the next-to-last on the line at Dockers Station. He got out and was relieved to find he remembered the area. There was a short walk up the hill to the red brick apartment building where Brianna lived. It was dark, and the streetlights were lit, shining on the puddles in the road. Cars went by, splashing noisily. He hunched his shoulders in the light jacket, wishing he had something warmer. Stopping for a minute on the front steps, he looked back down the hill. He stood there, in the light rain, thinking that he had nothing left. Nothing but the coat on his back and a set of keys in his hand. He clutched them tighter. There was a fine line between being free of everything and destitute. The keys meant friends. Thanks to Brianna, he had keys. He put one in the front door, turned the lock, and went up the three flights of stairs to her apartment. What would you do if you had a chance to start all over again? Jack sat in Brianna’s apartment and thought about that. The book about the care of his new zombie body was open on his lap, but he stared at it unseeingly. He had a new life now. And a purpose. Find the Heart Taker. Dee was waiting for him to show up at the club. They didn’t have much time before the show, just four days. Dee seemed confident that he could learn the steps and how to strip. In the meantime, Jack wanted to take stock of his options. With his memories more or less intact, he could think things over more clearly. His parents had both died in a car crash, so he didn’t have the agony of deciding whether or not to contact them. He had some friends he vaguely remembered, but he wasn’t

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sure he could call them up and say, “Hey, I’m back!” without scaring them to death. And although he would have liked to continue his studies, he couldn’t see anyone hiring a zombie. No, the only job he had to look forward to was in Dee’s club. He got a warm, fuzzy feeling when he thought of Dee helping him. How lucky that he’d found a friend the first day of his new life. And he’d found Brianna again, who was letting him stay in her apartment. He didn’t know too many people who would have done that. And Mémé Hoya too…and Mr. Ling-Li…and May. He couldn’t get May out of his head. He looked at the card that he’d stuck in between the pages of the journal. Would she answer the phone? Just as he thought about telephoning May, the phone rang. He hesitated before picking it up. It was Brianna. “How did it go?” she asked. “Did you meet the person who made you? Was he a…a nice person?” “Great. The man who made me, Jim Ling-Li, is a good guy. Mémé Hoya told me I could trust him.” “Why did he make you into a zombie, Jack?” “He made me to catch the Heart Taker.” She gave a little gasp. “Wow. That’s…incredible.” There was a pause. “I’ve been hired as a bodyguard tonight for some political rally, so I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up for me. There’s food in the fridge, and you can sleep wherever you want. Help yourself to towels, and…don’t worry about anything. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” “Thank you, Brianna.” He heard her intake of breath, and her voice came again, not so nervous or shaky. “You’re welcome. Look, I know this is hard for you, and you must feel terribly alone.” “I feel much better now. Mr. Ling-Li made another zombie. She was made to catch mutants and supernaturals.” There was another silence. “A girl zombie?” Jack nodded and then remembered he was on the phone. “Yes. She’s amazing.” This time the silence lasted a little longer. “Great. That’s really nice. I have to go now.” “I’m going to Dee’s place to rehearse in a few minutes. I just stopped by here to take a shower and all. I hope you don’t mind, I really appreciate it.” “It’s fine. Mi casa es su casa. If you need some clothes, I might have some things that would fit you in the hall closet. There are some men’s jackets I was saving to give to the Salvation Army, and there might even be a pair of pants that will fit. And Jack, I’m glad you’re feeling better.” She sounded sincere. Jack felt the first smile he’d been able to manage stretch his mouth. “Thanks, Brianna. Thank you so much.”

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***** That evening Jack met the other people working in Dee’s club. Suki was the Rastafarian bartender with long dreadlocks decorated with green, red, and black beads. Davinia and Chloe worked there as waitresses. Chloe was a tall, thin, blonde woman, and Davinia was short, brunette, and stout. Both were very nice and had beautiful, patient smiles. Marty, the deejay looked more like a college professor with wire-rimmed glasses, pale skin, and a sharply receding hairline. Arnaud, the bouncer, looked just like a bouncer, though -- with huge, bulging muscles and straw-blond hair in a Marine-type buzz cut. None of them showed the slightest sign that they suspected Jack was a zombie. He’d put lots of deodorant on. Jack was worried about zombie smell. After reading a chapter in his book that told the story of a zombie who had let himself go, he was still feeling a little queasy. Dee introduced him to everyone, and afterward, led Jack to the dressing room. “I found a costume. It’s perfect. And Marty is getting the music ready. He’s got some great ideas. Now, I don’t want you to do too much. Leave them drooling for more, that’s my motto. You’ll strip down to a pumpkin-colored string in the first act, which will be to the ‘Monster Mash.’ You’ll do the full monty for the second act, to the music ‘Superstition.’” “Sounds great. Thank you.” Jack liked Dee’s enthusiasm. He took the first costume and put it on. The pants had snaps all down the inside so he could whip them off. The string had sequins and there was a jack-o’-lantern mask. Jack put the mask on and felt something shift inside. He was different all of a sudden with the mask. He strutted a couple steps and wiggled his hips. Dee watched him with one eyebrow raised. “You sure you’ve never done this before?” Jack grinned. Hidden behind the mask he felt powerful and mysterious. Marty hit the music, and Dee waved him to the stage. “You’ll enter here. Someone will pull the curtain aside after I introduce you. I want you to walk out like you’re a monster. Stiff legs, jerky movements. Then get into the music and dance. You can dance, right?” Jack nodded. Behind the mask, he could do anything. “Great. Dance. After a few minutes, bare your chest. Remember what I said about the cuffs. Whenever you feel ready, rip off the pants. Then strut your stuff until the music ends. We’ll kill the lights, and I want you to come back here as quickly as possible to change. Marty will play some more music, and you’ll come back for your grand finale. All right? Ready for a try?” Jack was ready. Marty hit the lights and the music, Dee held the curtain back, and Jack did his best monster imitation. He staggered around, groped at his buttons, and pulled his shirt open. He undid his cuffs and took his shirt off slowly. Chloe and Davinia, sitting in as the audience, clapped and squealed excitedly.

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After his shirt came off, he really got into it. He whipped his pants off and danced to the music. Wow, he was hot. Jack the stripper. Yeah. The music stopped, the lights dimmed, and he ducked backstage to the dressing room. “How was I?” He hoped he hadn’t looked too amateurish. He really wanted to be a hit. Dee beamed. “You were terrific. Here’s your second outfit. It’s a little trickier. A vampire costume. The cape might be a pain, so get rid of it early on. The rest is classic -white shirt, black snap pants, and a red G-string.” “I thought of a name for myself. How about ‘Jack the Stripper?’” Jack tried to sound modest. He was secretly thrilled to have found a talent as a male stripper. Chloe and Davinia’s cheers had done wonders for his self-esteem. Dee clapped him on the shoulder. “That is terrific!” His arm dropped off.

This is not happening, thought Jack, as he picked up his arm and stuck it back in place. Dee looked a little green. “There must be something we can do to keep that in place.” Jack grimaced. “I’ll look in the journal tonight. I’m sorry. Really.” “Hey, don’t worry. We can’t all be perfect.” Dee still didn’t look too happy, but he gave Jack a reassuring smile. “Hey, don’t look so tragic. Jack the Stripper is a terrific idea. I’ll print up the poster tonight and send the ads out first thing tomorrow morning.” The rest of the practice went well. Mindful of his arm, Jack didn’t dance very energetically, but Chloe and Davinia didn’t mind. When he whipped his G-string off in the grand finale, Suki, still behind the bar, dropped a glass, and Davinia fell off her chair. Chloe put her hands to her face and said. “Holy colossal cucumber, Batman.” Dee was ecstatic. Jack helped clean up the set and put the clothes away. Dee showed him where everything went. When everything was done, they went out for a bite to eat. Jack had his book with him and studied it carefully. The chapter on nutrition was a long one. Zombies had to eat a balanced diet. Lots of purifying greens and fruit, seafood, and high-quality protein were recommended, and he should eat as little fat, sugar, and processed food as possible. Absolutely no sodas, vinegar, chocolate, cheese, or candy. As for alcohol, an occasional beer or malt whiskey was all right. Red wines were fine, but not white, and nix the champagne. Jack ordered a vegetarian platter and a glass of red wine. He listened while Dee spoke about his plans for the club, but he was only half paying attention. Dee was leaning forward, gesturing with his fork, when Jack saw the fly. It flew in and hovered over Jack’s bread roll. Without really thinking, Jack reached over and plucked the fly out of mid air. Everything slowed down. Even Dee’s words became drawn out and thick, like gravy poured over biscuits. The fly flew so slowly that Jack could see the individual wing-beats. He took it

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gently between his thumb and forefinger, meaning to toss it out the window, when time snapped back to normal, and he realized what he’d done. Dee stared at him, his mouth hanging open. Jack frowned, tossed the fly out the window, and said, “You better shut your mouth; you’ll catch flies.” “I can’t believe you just did that.” Dee shook his head. “Your hand was a blur.” “I’m sure there is a perfectly good explanation.” Jack didn’t want to dwell on it. It made him feel like a monster again, and he’d just started feeling like he was almost normal. “I think you better ask Mr. Ling-Li about that.” Jack thought about it and nodded. And maybe May would answer the phone. It was getting late. The last tram would leave soon. Jack went to Union Square. He wasn’t tired. He’d been lying in a coffin for nearly a year -- why should he be tired? Instead, energy coursed through him. He felt incredibly alive. The night air was cool and fresh after the day’s rain. The downtown lights blinked and flashed. Union Square hummed with activity. Jack wandered into the station and studied the map, familiarizing himself with the city once more. It was built on a river, and on one side was all low, flat land, where the trailer park, industrial park, and Native American reservation were located. On the other side of the river was the old section of town, downtown, the docks, and after that the land rose steadily toward a high bluff where the city sprawled into a huge residential area. Two tram lines served the city. The “A” line ran from the reservation on the west to the east part of town. The other line, the “B,” ran from the industrial park through downtown. A whistle startled Jack, and he sprinted to catch his ride. As the door slid shut, he sat on the hard, plastic seat and pulled the journal out of his jacket pocket. He wanted to find out as much about his new life as possible.

***** Brianna finished her job and went back to her apartment. It was late, but Jack hadn’t returned. She made up his bed on the couch and took a long shower. She was so tired she didn’t turn on her television or read, just lay down in her bed, and tried not to think about zombies. How could Jack be a zombie? He looked so alive! What was going to happen when they found themselves alone together? She sat up and groped around for the light. She could not ever imagine making love to a dead guy. There was just no way. She got a pen and paper out of her night table’s drawer and started to jot down a list. Her shrink had told her to do this when things got overwhelming. She divided the paper into two halves. On the left side she wrote, “Good things,” and on the right side she wrote, “Bad

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things.” She bit the end of the pen and wrote, “Jack’s Back” on the left side. On the right she wrote, “But he’s a zombie.” Her list, when she finished, was pretty even. Good Things

Bad Things

Jack’s back

But he’s a zombie

He looks good

He’s dead

He found a job

He’s a stripper

He’s staying with me

He’s sleeping on the couch

I think I still love him

He seems interested in another zombie

He’s still the most gorgeous man I’ve ever Correction: seen He’s a gorgeous zombie I can’t go out with a zombie It’s unnatural I wouldn’t data vampire either He’s a really nice guy

His arm falls off

She stared at the list until little white spots danced in front of her eyes. Usually the good outweighed the bad, or there were more things on the bad side of a list than on the good. She had no idea what to do with evens. It only confused her more. She threw her pen across the room and crumpled the paper into a little ball. That felt better. Turning her light off she curled up beneath the covers, and for the first time since Jack’s funeral, she cried herself to sleep.

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Chapter Eight Jack in the Box Jack woke up the next morning after a restful night on Brianna’s comfortable couch. He made his bed, folded the bed back into the couch, and mindful of the chapter on nutrition, he squeezed fresh orange juice and made whole wheat toast with honey. After drinking his orange juice, he had some herbal tea. He took a multivitamin pill and worked out for half an hour, before taking a long shower. He put a ton of deodorant on and got dressed. Eating right seemed to come naturally to him, so he wondered if he’d been a health nut when he was alive. His body was in shape. He glanced down at his flat stomach. That was a relief. He’d have hated to come back to life as a flabby zombie. It was so quiet. He parted the curtains and looked out the window. There were few people at the docks, and a lone barge was just pulling up. The cranes and forklifts were still; there was none of the usual bustle. He noticed the street lights were still on. He glanced at a clock. Seven in the morning. He must have been up since five. He hoped he hadn’t woken Brianna. He sat on the couch and read the zombie diary while he waited for her to get up. According to the journal, he wouldn’t need much sleep unless he seriously depleted his body’s energy supply, in which case, a good meal and a nap would usually replenish him. The writing was quaint, and the zombie who had written the book obviously enjoyed the perks his zombie body afforded him. Getting by with little or no sleep, and with lots of energy to spare, no wonder zombies were prized as slaves, Jack thought. He had the added bonus of being able to move fast. Little by little, he was starting to become fond of his new zombie self. But questions remained. Most were about his new body, but some were along more practical lines. Would Brianna let him stay here until he could afford a place of his own?

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Would he even be able to rent an apartment? Who would rent to a zombie? Maybe Dee would cosign his lease. Dee had lent him some clothes until he could get some of his own. He’d also given him an advance on his salary. Jack had two hundred dollars in his new wallet, another gift from Dee, and he wanted to go shopping for clothes. Dee promised him decent wages, plus tips, so Jack was optimistic. If Davinia and Chloe’s reactions were anything to go by, he was going to make some money. If his arm didn’t drop off. He skimmed the book again, looking for some hint as to how to keep limbs in place. Most of the reasons for limbs falling off were listed under chapter twelve, “Don’t Let Yourself Go.” There didn’t seem to be a good way to keep a loose limb in place. Jack thought maybe he could rig up something with an elastic band or maybe try superglue. He would have to call Mr. Ling-Li anyway and ask about the super speed, and maybe ask about the superglue. What time was it? Could he call? He looked at the clock on the wall. Almost eight. Mr. Ling-Li was surely awake. He was just reaching for the phone when the bedroom door opened, and Brianna walked in. She wore a pair of flannel drawstring pants and a man’s shirt. On her feet were fluffy, pink slippers with satin bows. She gave him a crooked grin and headed toward the kitchen. “I need coffee.” She puttered around in the kitchen, heating water in the microwave and then adding instant coffee. She came back into the living room and sat down next to him on the couch. “How was your audition?” “Oh, great. Dee says I’m a natural.” Jack settled back on the sofa and crossed one leg over the other. “I’m doing two shows. One ends in the full monty,” he added, looking at Brianna from the corner of his eye. She gulped her coffee and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “That’s great,” she said finally, after clearing her throat. “So, how do you feel this morning?” Her eyes seemed to stray to his crotch a lot. “Fine. How is your job?” He folded his hands over his lap. “It was all right. Boring. Just the way I like it.” Brianna put her hand on his thigh, blushed, and pulled away. “Sorry.” “About what?” Jack didn’t remember much about going out with Brianna. That bothered him somehow. He wondered if they’d ever had sex, and the thought made his cheeks start to burn. “You’re blushing.” “So are you.” She put her hands to her face. “It’s nothing. I always blush.” “Maybe I do too.” The burning feeling spread from his cheeks to his chest, then down to his crotch where it made him suddenly and uncomfortably stiff. Now he was the one shifting in his seat. “I, uh, like your slippers.” He searched for a safe topic.

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“I got them at the five and dime.” She stuck her foot in the air and wiggled it. The satin bow flopped sideways. “Nice.” Jack wasn’t looking at her foot; he was looking at her leg. She had a nice leg. He turned his gaze away. She put her foot down and sipped her coffee. The silence grew between them. Brianna broke it first. “I was just wondering…” She bit her lip, her voice trailing away. “What?” “Well, if you’d give me a private show. You know, practice. I could be your audience.” Brianna spoke fast. “You can come to the club today during rehearsal.” “I can’t, I have to work. What about now? Can I get a sneak peek at your show?” He wondered if he should be shocked. “Right now?” “Please?” She batted her eyelashes. “I can help you get over your stage fright.” He hadn’t thought of stage fright. All right. She asked for it. “Do you want music?” Brianna set her coffee on the table and grinned. “Hold on, let me switch on the radio.” Music filled the room. He looked around. Something about this was familiar. A faint memory came back and nudged him. He’d already taken his clothes off for Brianna in this room. He closed his eyes and tried to remember more, but nothing else came to him. How strange. Jack faced Brianna, and unbuttoning his shirt, bared his chest. Her mouth dropped open, and she reached up and traced his scar. “Oh, my,” she whispered. “It’s actually faded a bit since yesterday.” Jack looked down at the Y-shaped scar on his chest and belly. “Does it hurt?” “Oh, no. It doesn’t, honest.” He wanted to stand there and feel her light fingertips on his chest, but she gave him a crooked grin. “Well, what are you waiting for?” He backed away from her, unbuttoning his cuffs. He pulled his shirt off. He must be good at this. Brianna looked like a deer caught in headlights. Her eyes widened as he unbuttoned his pants and pulled the zipper down. Slowly. Brianna started to unbutton her own shirt. Jack missed a step as her hand slipped inside her shirt. His palm suddenly tickled, and he realized he wanted to slide his hand under her shirt and cup her breast. His cock hardened even more. He started to pull his jeans down over his hips and hesitated. Brianna uttered a frustrated groan. “Don’t stop now!” A rush of heat enveloped him, rising from his toes and burning his cheeks. He suddenly found it hard to breathe. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.” Jack put his hand on his chest. “I feel strange.” “So do I.” Brianna unbuttoned her shirt all the way down. “It’s a good strange, though.”

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“Tell me something. Did we ever make love?” Jack had to know. A startled look crossed her face, while crimson rushed into her cheeks. “You don’t remember?” “I don’t remember ever making love,” he said slowly. “Oh.” Brianna got up and stood in front of him. “Sort of like you’re a virgin.” Her shirt fell open, revealing her breasts. They were round, soft-looking, and had apricot-tipped nipples that darkened and hardened into points as he stared at them. His new life was getting interesting in ways he hadn’t thought of. The breathless, burning sensation hadn’t left him. If anything, it was getting stronger. His cock was pushing against his pants, and his eyelids felt oddly heavy. He locked his gaze on Brianna’s and pushed his pants lower on his hips. Cool air caressed his body. Closing his eyes, he put his hands out, blindly feeling for her. Brianna caught his hands and pulled him to her. The shock of her hot skin against his cool skin made him cry out. “Hush,” she said. He kissed her and ran his hands over her naked body. When had she slipped out of her shirt and pants? “You don’t wear underwear?” She giggled. “Not when I sleep.” He sighed, his lips against hers. There was the faint taste of coffee and mint, and the feel of silk as her lips slid open and her tongue traced a line from one side of his jaw to the other. Warm and cold, hot and cool, her mouth explored his at the same time her hands pushed his pants off the rest of the way while pulling him to her bedroom. They ended up on her bed. Her body, supple and smooth, and his, hard and tense with excitement, rubbed together. He locked his arms around her and rolled over, pinning her beneath him. His cock nudged her inner thigh, slid into a hollow. The prickle of soft pubic hair tickled the tip of his cock. “Stand up,” she whispered. “I want to see you.” Sunlight slanted through the blinds, striping his body like a tiger. He stood up, balanced lightly by her bed, his cock heavy and stiff, pointing at her almost accusingly. “I remember, even if you don’t.” She sat up and leaned forward, planting a kiss on his cock. Her lips opened, and she took him into her mouth. He had to hold on to her shoulders to stay upright. Her mouth was so hot, and her tongue did something electric to him, while her hand gently kneaded his balls. She hooked one arm around his thighs and stroked his buttocks. He swayed forward, digging his fingers into her shoulders. Her suction on his cock made him dizzy with lust. The fingers wandering over his body were like tiny licks of fire.

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She pulled away, and he opened his eyes. She looked at him, a smile playing around her lips, her eyes shadowed. His breath came in short gasps, and his hips seemed to have a mind of their own. They came together, the bed bouncing under their weight. When Jack pressed his chest against Brianna’s, he felt her heart beating, and its pounding resonated in his own chest. He closed his eyes, sudden tears stinging them. Like this, wrapped in her arms, he had a heart that beat. With that thought in mind, he reached down and guided his stiff, aching cock into her sex. It was tight, slick, and throbbed in time with her heartbeat. He could feel her pulse right to the tip of his cock, and it was like a jolt of pure, undiluted pleasure zapping him from head to toe. In the striped light, on the wide, soft bed, Jack drove his cock into Brianna. He shared her heartbeat as it sped up, dragging him with it, spurring him on, faster and faster, until his thighs and buttocks suddenly clenched as his orgasm rocked him. Could he even ejaculate? He hadn’t thought to wonder, but he felt jets of hot sperm leaving his amazed body, pulled out of him by Brianna’s wildly beating heart and soft, mewing cries. Her back arched, her legs wrapped around him, and he buried his face in the crook of her neck and let their passion roll over them. It wasn’t until Brianna pushed him off her that Jack realized he’d fallen asleep. He rolled over, propped himself up on one elbow, and looked down at her. She grinned at him. Her hair was spread over the pillow, a flaming corona, and her cheeks were still faintly stained with pink. “I fell asleep,” he said. “I know. Sorry I woke you. I have to get up and go to work.” He tried to get up, stumbled, and fell, sprawling on the floor. Brianna leaped off the bed and grabbed his arm. Unfortunately, it was the wrong arm, and it came off in her hand. She gave a startled scream, dropped it, and plunged over to the other side of the bed where he heard her gagging. “I’m sorry, so sorry!” He put his arm back on and tried to lever himself off the floor. Why were his legs so wobbly? “It’s all right. I’m…I’m fine now.” She stood up, her face still pale. “Are you all right?” “Fine,” Jack lied. “Do you think that zombies should make love?” she blurted. If she’d used a knife to carve the words into his chest, it couldn’t have hurt less. He sighed. “I should ask May about that.” “Who?”

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“The zombie girl. May. She’s…” He paused, not sure how to describe May. A little warning bell in his head told him that you didn’t tell a girl you were interested in that another girl was beautiful. “She’s a zombie, so she should know.” “Oh.” Brianna backed away from him, her cheeks even more red. “I’m sorry. This was a bad idea right now. Excuse me. I’d better get dressed. I have an appointment at ten.” She stepped past him and turned off the music. “All right. What time will you be home?” Jack ached to take her in his arms, but she was pulling her shirt on and backing away from him like he had the plague. She wrinkled her forehead. “Like last night. Late. I have a major client. He’ll be in the city another two days, and he’s hired me for the whole time.” “Someone important?” “Someone paranoid.” Brianna shrugged. “He’s loaded and goes to the casinos on the reservation with a ton of money. I’m just there to make sure he doesn’t get mugged.” “Two days? I’m doing the grand opening in two days,” said Jack. “Will you be there?” Brianna sighed. “I’ll try to be there.” She went to the bathroom, shut the door firmly, and he heard the shower running. He pulled his clothes back on and sat on the couch. He felt totally drained. Why had Brianna backed away from him like that? Was she revolted by him? Should zombies even have sex? He took a quick look in his zombie guidebook under the chapter titled, “Everything You Wanted to Know About Zombie Sex.” It wasn’t that explicit, but it showed him that sex was possible, no problem, but it could be exhausting for zombies. Unlike living creatures, zombies had to immediately replace the energy they’d burned or face the consequences. All he had to do was make sure he ate something afterward. His body’s metabolism had completely changed and now resembled more of a fuel-burning engine than anything else. The chapter also mentioned other undead beings’ sexual tidbits and Jack was smugly pleased to read that vampires went nearly catatonic after sex.

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Chapter Nine Zombie Dreams Brianna rode the subway and went to work, but for the first time in her life she could hardly concentrate on anything around her. Life had suddenly been turned upside down. The impossible had happened. Her boyfriend was back. It had scared her, but she’d accepted it. Maybe it was because she’d been followed by death her whole life. She was always getting into scrapes and nearly dying, so perhaps that had helped her believe Jack had really returned. He was back. He needed her. That’s all that mattered right now. Except for the orgasm. She’d had an orgasm. Not just any orgasm -- her first orgasm. She’d had her first fireworks with a man’s cock inside her, a man’s body covering hers, and not just any man -Jack, a zombie. Her body still tingled. She glowed. She could see a glow in the subway window. Or maybe it was just her fair skin reddening whenever she remembered the frantic pulsing she’d felt in her belly when she’d finally exploded and found out what all the fuss was about. A slim, just-being-born hope, like the first, pale pink light of dawn, lifted her spirits. Her euphoria didn’t last. Jack had suffered some sort of attack after they’d made love. Maybe it had been a huge mistake. When his arm had fallen off, she’d nearly had a heart attack. She knew she’d hurt Jack’s feelings. Plus there was that zombie girl, May, to contend with. When Jack had mentioned her, there was something in his voice Brianna didn’t like at all. Her mood darkened, only to turn completely black when she met her new client. He was a short, sweaty, nervous businessman in a bad mood. At the casino, he promptly lost three thousand dollars and took it out on a waitress, first making her reheat his steak and

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then refusing to eat it because it was overcooked. He snapped at people and was incapable of saying simple words like “please” and “thank you.” Brianna tried to pretend she didn’t know him, even though she was sitting at the same table. He didn’t try to talk to her. He only shoved food into his mouth and shifted his beady eyes around the room as if looking for danger. Brianna was paid to look for danger. She didn’t think her client was going to get mugged at the Gold Digger Saloon Bar and Grill. His steak might choke him, though. Well, she could wish. Her holster was digging into her breast, which was still tingling from Jack’s touch. She didn’t eat. She wasn’t being paid to eat. She would grab a sandwich when her client sat down at the blackjack table, as per her contract. Her client finished his lunch and went back to the game room, with Brianna as his shadow. She stayed nearby, but not too close. He’d told her he didn’t like to feel stifled. He played roulette for a while, losing more money and becoming more uptight. Finally, he stomped off to the blackjack table, and Brianna breathed a sigh of relief and headed toward the café. She grabbed a tuna sandwich and a bottle of mineral water. When she finished, she was still hungry, so she took an apple from a fruit vending machine and made her way back to the gaming room. The decor in the reservation casino was resolutely “faux Native American,” with garishly painted totem poles, tepee-shaped stations for drinks and snacks, suede and leather and turquoise trim on everything. Everyone working there, including the waiters and waitresses, had to be Native American or at least live on the reservation. And they had to wear costumes that would not have looked out of place on a romance novel cover. Brianna was dreaming about Jack dressed in soft-suede leggings, with his chest bare and a bear-tooth necklace on, when her client uttered a bellow of rage. “Hey, you!” Brianna was at his side in an instant. Her client was fuming at a slim boy dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt. He looked about ten years old and was a Native American, probably one of the workers’ kids. “All right, give it back,” snarled Brianna’s client. The boy looked confused. “I didn’t take anything from you.” “Yes, you did -- one of my chips is gone. Give it back or I’ll…” Brianna stepped in and pulled the child back from her client’s raised fist. “I’ll handle this,” she told her client. She looked at the boy. “Did you take one of the man’s gambling chips?” The boy shook his head. “There are cameras all over the place,” Brianna went on in a soft voice. “If you didn’t take anything, you don’t have anything to worry about. But if my client wants, he can demand that security check the video.”

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“I didn’t take anything.” The boy looked at Brianna earnestly. She nodded and turned back to her client. “Did you see this person take one of your chips, or did you just misplace it?” His face turned nearly purple. “I didn’t misplace anything. I had ten chips here, and now there are only nine. You should have been watching me. You should have seen this happen. Now, get my chip back, or you’re fired.” Brianna kept her temper. She was good at that. “I’m going to ask security to show me the video of this table. You can stay here and continue your blackjack game.” “What about the thief?” The boy gave a start. “I’m not a thief!” he cried. Brianna patted his shoulder. “I’m sure you’re not. I’m going to prove it. Want to come with me?” The boy nodded, and Brianna took him to the security guard and told him what was going on. The guard called over one of the reservation police officers, and he accompanied Brianna and the boy to the video control room, where she clearly saw that the boy hadn’t stolen anything. Her client was probably a little drunk and -- She blinked. “Can you play that sequence again?” There it was. Her client had a small pile of ten chips by his side, and a second later, there were nine. It was as if a chip had suddenly evaporated. The policeman and the security guard replayed the sequence again. Then, because it made no sense, they played it one more time. The boy, bored, began to tap his foot on the ground. Because he obviously had nothing to do with the vanishing chip, Brianna let him go. She and the policeman went back to the casino. “So where’s the little thief?” her client asked. “He didn’t take it.” The policeman hesitated. “On the video, nobody took it.” Brianna was about to explain that there was no explanation when she felt a mild tickling in her ear. She was about to rub it when it turned into a faint buzz, and everything clicked into place. “Oh, no,” she whispered. She didn’t think. She grabbed her client and shoved him over the table, scattering chips and cards. “Clear the casino!” she shouted. “The Heart Taker is here!” The policeman whirled around, whipping his gun from his holster. Brianna didn’t think that was such a good idea, but the combination of her scream and the sight of the gun did the job. In a second there was a mad stampede for the doors, and in no time the place was empty except for the guards, the dealers, Brianna, her client, and the policeman. Afterward, there was more debriefing at the local police station. Brianna had all day, since her client had fired her on the spot. He’d not appreciated being pushed headfirst over the table, and he’d lost all his chips. He still thought the kid had ripped him off, and he blamed Brianna for everything.

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Brianna sat in the police station, and for once, was glad to be there. She felt safer than in the casino. The vanishing chip plus the vibration in her ears only meant one thing to her. The Heart Taker had been inside the casino. The police didn’t believe her, but they had the video sequence of the disappearing chip -- so they didn’t exactly disbelieve her either. They weren’t sure what to do. They filed a report, which seemed to make everyone in the station happy. A report in triplicate, with lots of paragraphs, appendices, a copy of the video, and Brianna speaking on tape. She signed everything they gave her, and by the end of the day, the police chief looked almost happy.

***** Jack ate a huge lunch before he went shopping. He bought a pair of worn jeans, some shirts, and a nice sweater at a thrift shop and headed toward the club. He wanted to talk to Mr. Ling-Li about the problem he had with time. Twice that day, he’d found time slowing down so that he felt like he was moving through thick honey. Sounds were distorted. Once it happened while crossing the street. All traffic seemed to stop while he moved. When time snapped back into place, he stumbled and nearly fell. The last time it was a fly again. He batted it away before it landed on his arm. He saw its wings beating in slow motion. He didn’t mind it. Time hadn’t slowed down that much, and he loved the feeling of sailing through space; it was a very odd, but not unpleasant sensation. But at the same time, it scared him. Was he dying again? Could it harm him? Why couldn’t he seem to control it? At the club, he asked if it was all right if he used the phone, and Dee raised his eyebrows. “Of course you can use it. How are you feeling today, Jack?” “Good. Much better, in fact. Hungry,” he added, catching sight of a bowl of bright red apples on the bar. “Have an apple,” said Suki, from behind the bar. He was cleaning the shelves and rearranging the bottles. He held a sponge in one hand and a bottle of spray detergent in the other. He gave a quick spray onto the bar, and Jack was fascinated to see that he could see each individual droplet shoot out of the bottle and fall very slowly. Jack took an apple while he watched the spray, and suddenly time gave a little snap and he found himself with an apple in his hand, while Dee and Suki stared at him with their mouths hanging open. “Whoa…man. How did you do that?” Suki shook his head, making his dreadlocks swing. “Do what?” “Make the apple vanish and appear in your hand like that. I didn’t know you did a magic act. Too cool.” Suki whistled and with a shrug went back to cleaning the bar. Dee took Jack’s arm. “I think you better call Mr. Ling-Li now.”

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Jack nodded and headed toward the office. Dee held onto his arm a little harder and longer than he should have, and it popped off in Dee’s hand. Luckily, Suki had his head down, scrubbing the bar, and Chloe and Davinia were not in yet. Jack grabbed his arm to keep it inside his sleeve and walked sideways. He made it to Dee’s office without Suki noticing anything unusual. In the office he had to take off his shirt to get his arm back in. Dee apologized all the while. “Look, it’s nothing.” Embarrassed at having such a horrible weakness, Jack sat down in the chair facing Dee’s desk and pointed at the phone. “Can I use this one?” “Of course!” Dee pushed his long hair back and shook his head. The phone rang only once. “Jim Ling-Li, how may I help you?” “This is Jack Severn. Can you spare me a couple minutes? I have something I want to tell you.” “Of course, Jack. Go ahead. I’ll listen.” In the background there were crunching, slurping noises that Jack did not want to identify. He took a deep breath. “I can stop time. At least, it seems like that. For instance, when I see a fly, I can see its wings beating. Traffic stops when I cross the street, and when I took an apple, no one saw me…” His voice trailed off, and he suddenly knew the truth. His breath suddenly whistled in his throat. “I can move as fast as the Heart Taker.” His voice was hushed. “I’m sending May over to see you,” said Jim Ling-Li. “You have to learn all about that gift.” “It’s a gift? You gave it to me?” “How else were you going to catch the Heart Taker?” A shrill buzzing sounded in the background. Something cracked like a green branch breaking. “Ah. That’s interesting.” Jack felt his stomach clench. He did not want to know what was interesting. “When will May get here?” “Where are you?” Jim Ling-Li’s voice had a trace of laughter in it. A jolly necromancer. Jack gave the address of Dee’s bar and hung up, feeling oddly heavy. Through his shirt, he traced his scar with his fingers, staring unseeingly at the desk. The journal hadn’t spoken about this sudden deep feeling of despair. Or maybe the writer just didn’t want to dwell on it. But suddenly Jack would have given anything to be alive again. His lost humanity was the most precious thing on earth, and he had no wish to see May, catch the Heart Taker, or have incredible speed. All he wanted was to be normal. If he were normal, he could make love to Brianna again. If he were normal, they would be able to have a real relationship. Anger at fate submerged him, but slowly it turned into fury against the Heart Taker. That mutant had taken away his life, and he would pay. He’d catch him if it were the last thing he did. His fury slowly abated and left him feeling once again exhausted and empty.

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Dee snapped his fingers in front of Jack’s face. “Hey, Jack. What gives?” “I don’t know.” Jack put his hand in his pocket, feeling for his handbook as if it were a talisman. He’d never been prone to emotional fits before. He’d always been an easygoing guy. May was coming. She had been a zombie for a long time. Maybe she could understand what he was going through -- because he didn’t have a clue.

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Chapter Ten Violets are Blue Brianna decided to drop in on Mémé Hoya. She was in the neighborhood, and it was just one stop past Union Square Station, where Dee’s club was. She thought she’d go see Jack’s rehearsal, and maybe Mémé Hoya would like to see it too. The voodoo queen opened the door before Brianna could knock. “Come in, I was just having tea with Sally.” Brianna looked at the table. It was set for three. Mémé pointed to the place to her right. “Don’t sit here, you’ll squash Sally and make her most upset. Take that chair. I took the liberty of pouring some tea for you.” Brianna sat. She didn’t ask how Mémé Hoya knew she was coming, but she couldn’t help a glance in the direction of the crystal ball perched on her bookcase. “That’s just for show.” “You read minds?” Brianna sipped her tea. It was steaming hot and delicious. “Not exactly. I feel auras, and I felt yours heading this way. Once I meet someone, I know their aura like their face or voice. Better even. But I don’t know why you’ve come to visit. Is there a problem with Jack?” Her cheeks flamed. She could feel them burning, so she buried her nose in the teacup. “My, this is wonderful tea. Jack? No, no problem at all. I was just wondering if you wanted to come see his show.” Think of the tea. Think of the white tablecloth and the delicate silver

spoons with the roses carved on the handles. A hand cupping your breast. No. Damn it. Not that! “Sally is worried about you,” said Mémé Hoya. “Are you feeling all right, dear?”

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Brianna looked up. “Yes, of course, yes. Well, no.” She paused. “I think the Heart Taker was nearby today at the reservation casino. I was there with my client, and something strange happened.” Mémé Hoya looked startled. Brianna hadn’t expected her to look so surprised. “That’s bad news, child.” “I know. He hasn’t killed anyone in so long that I thought that maybe he’d left town.” Mémé Hoya shook her head. “We’re missing something. When was Jack killed?” “On Halloween, just a year ago.” “It’s nearly Halloween again. He could be stirring again.” Mémé Hoya hoisted herself from her chair and waddled to a small table covered with a red velvet cloth and several candles. She set the candles on another table and removed the cloth. Underneath it was a laptop computer. She flipped up the lid and turned it on. “I keep it hidden because it doesn’t look very mysterious. Oh, I know, Sally.” “What did Sally say?” “That technology is the work of the devil. Sally died in the late seventeen hundreds; she’s never gotten used to electricity.” Brianna felt a pang of sympathy for Sally, so far out of her time. “What does she like about this age?” Mémé Hoya typed something on the computer. “She likes the grocery stores. Food whenever you want and wherever you want. She can’t get over the abundance. Sometimes she spends all day in the produce section of the Maxi-Mart down the street.” Brianna tried to imagine a spirit hanging around in a grocery store. “Does she like television? Cars? Airplanes?” Mémé Hoya snorted. “You have to be kidding. Here, I found articles about the Heart Taker and the dates of his kills in the archives of the Daily News. Looks like I’m right. He kills on or around holidays. First kill on Halloween. That was Jack. Second kill on December twenty-first. Isn’t that winter solstice? More kills on Valentine’s Day, May Day, June twentyfirst, the summer solstice, and then nothing. What do you notice about that?” Brianna looked over her shoulder and read the headlines, skimming over the dates. “No religious holidays, or he’d have killed on Easter or on the Ascension. But it’s pretty regular, and every two or three months. I wonder if it has anything to do with his job. Last year the dates were both on the weekend and during the week, and the killings took place from one end of the city to the other. He might be a cab driver or someone who makes his own schedule. Who can tell when or where he’ll strike again?” Mémé Hoya turned off the computer and covered it with the cloth. “The where I can’t tell you, but I’m pretty sure about the when. I’m afraid he’ll strike again on Halloween. That’s coming up. I bet he’s casing out his next victim. He wasn’t at the casino to kill. He was there to find someone to kill on Halloween. These kinds of killers are strange.”

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“As in, other killers are not strange?” “No, as in they only kill on certain days. The Heart Taker kills on Halloween, winter solstice, Valentine’s Day, May Day, and on summer solstice. I bet he won’t kill on any other day.” “How can you be so sure?” “I’ve read some books about serial killers. They have patterns.” She nodded seriously. “Sally told me she’s terrified of him. For some reason, he scares even the undead.” Brianna felt a prickle of disquiet. Could the Heart Taker have been casing the casino? For who? She thought of her obnoxious client and shook her head. “It can’t be the guy I was guarding. He’s leaving town tomorrow. The Heart Taker strikes here, in the city.” “Aren’t we lucky?” Mémé Hoya shook some lemon drops from a box into her purse, then took a shawl and put it over her shoulders. “Well, let’s go see Jack. Best tell him what we know.” “It’s odd the police haven’t seen that pattern,” said Brianna. “They probably have seen it, but they don’t want to advertise it. Panic might occur if everyone knew the Heart Taker was stalking his next victim. This way, he hasn’t struck in a while, so the people have managed to push him to the back of their minds. But I bet the police took your deposition very seriously.” “Actually, they did.” Brianna frowned. “In the casino, when I hollered, the policeman next to me pulled out his gun so fast I thought he might be the Heart Taker.” “Well, let’s go.” Mémé Hoya spoke to the empty room, “Don’t mind the dishes, Sally. I’ll do them when I get back.” To Brianna, she whispered, “Sally was a house slave and always thinks she has to pick up after me.” “Does she?” Brianna gave a little shiver. “Only very light stuff,” said Mémé Hoya with a shrug.

***** Jack watched Dee put the finishing touches on the posters he was going to use for the new show. They were bright orange and featured a sexy man taking off his shirt. Dee finished writing the text and bit the end of his marker. “Now, off to the printers.” Dee held the poster up at arm’s length and squinted at it. “Not bad at all. What do you think, Jack?” THE PURPLE DEE COME SEE THE MONSTER BASH, FEATURING OUR NEW STAR: JACK THE STRIPPER! MUSIC, DANCING, AND A PRIZE FOR THE BEST

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HALLOWEEN COSTUME. COVER CHARGE $15.00 SINGLE, OR $25.00 A COUPLE. ONE FREE DRINK PER COVER CHARGE. “Great!” Jack gave him a thumbs-up. He imagined the thumb dropping off and closed his eyes. Was having a zombie as a stripper such a good idea? “You all right, Jack?” He opened his eyes and nodded. “Fine. Just a little headache coming on. I think I have to eat something to keep my energy up. And the poster just gave me stage fright.” Dee brushed his hand over his long hair and straightened his shoulders. “Too late for second thoughts now. Besides, Jack, you’re very handsome. The women will go crazy for you.” “Thanks. What else can I do for you?” Jack had been running errands that morning and helping set up the bar. “Nothing. I just have to remember to rent an awning. Not forget the ice. Make sure Davinia and Chloe have enough change. Tell Marty to kill the lights on the stage if your arm falls off.” He paused and made a face at Jack. “And find another way to phrase that.” He patted Jack on the shoulder. “Well, I’m off to the printers. I’ll be back, and we’ll rehearse. Don’t worry. It’s a cinch.” He grabbed his things and left, waving to Suki on his way out. Jack stood in the office doorway and crossed his arms over his chest. No, it wasn’t going to be easy. He had to be careful not to pull his arm off when he took his shirt off, and he had to make sure it didn’t disconnect when he danced. A silhouette at the front door caught his eye. Hesitating a bit, May came into the bar. She had a large purse slung over her shoulder, and she looked around, her expression curious. Jack went over to her, and she gave him a little bow. “So glad to see you again, Jack.” He inclined his head a bit, not sure about the bow. “Would you like something to drink?” “Oh, I would like that very much.” She put her bag on the floor and sat next to Jack at the bar. She wore a hot pink silk dress. Embroidered dragons and flowers in gold and blue thread added touches of bright color. She crossed her legs, and Jack saw she wore black highheeled shoes. “What would you like?” Suki asked. “I’ll have an iced tea with lemon, please.” Her breathy, little-girl voice raised goose bumps on Jack’s arms. “I’ll have the same.”

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When Suki left to get the drinks, Jack leaned over and asked, “Do you have a zombie handbook too?” She laughed. “Oh, no. My father tells me everything I need to know. He takes care of my exercise and diet. I don’t have to worry about anything.” She reached down and took a compact out of her purse. She opened it, examined her face, and reached again into her purse for some lipstick, which she applied with care. When she finished, she snapped the compact shut. All her movements were precise and quick, reminding Jack of a bird. Jack took the drinks from Suki and asked him, “Can we go to a table in the corner where we can talk in private?” “Sure. Why don’t you sit near the stage there? Or you know what? Go into Dee’s office. Davinia and Chloe will be here soon, and they’re going to be setting the tables and stuff. That way you’ll be sure to get some privacy.” He gave Jack a knowing wink. Jack thanked Suki and led May to Dee’s office. They sat on a small, orange couch on the side of the room. In front of them was a low coffee table with Dee’s poster sketches on it. May took one and looked at it carefully. A little frown marred her smooth forehead as she put it down. “A stripper? You?” “It’s a job.” Jack suddenly felt defensive. “I have to think about getting back into life. I’m not sure what else I’m good for.” “I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t good for anything.” She gave a delicate sniff. “It’s just that stripping is a very public thing to do. My father says zombies should keep a low profile. He would be very upset with me if he knew I was sitting in a club with a stripper. I don’t know what he’d say.” “I just want to know what your father has to say about my moving so fast.” She nodded. “He explained to me what happened to you. He made sure you had the super speed to catch the Heart Taker. There’s nothing unusual about zombies having some sort of paranormal strength. I have extra powers as well. For one thing, I am absurdly strong.” “Absurdly?” “Yes. Vampires have three times the strength of a normal person. I had to be able to overcome them.” “Except after making love.” He caught May’s startled glance and cleared his throat. “It’s in my guidebook. It says, ‘After an orgasm, vampires are nearly catatonic.’ It would be easy to stake them then.” May’s eyes flashed. “Are you insinuating I should sleep with the vampires before breaking their necks and putting a stake through their hearts? If my father heard you say that he’d…” Jack held his hands up. “I’m not insinuating anything. I was just making a remark.” “Refrain from making such thoughtless remarks in the future, please,” she said sharply.

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Jack wasn’t used to such touchy people, but he could tell he’d hurt her feelings by the tight line of her jaw. He tried a different tack. “So, you have extra strength. Anything else?” “I can see in the dark.” “That’s good.” Jack sipped his iced tea. “I bet that comes in handy.” She lost her pinched look and brightened. “It does. Vampires see well in the dark, and so do I. Your super speed will make it easy for you to see and catch the Heart Taker. My father also gave you sensitive eyes; you can probably see well in the dark.” “I didn’t realize that until this morning.” Jack remembered waking up in the middle of the night and thinking it was already morning. Even the pitch darkness looked like cold, gray light. “Is there anything I have to do to control this, er, gift?” May shook her head, making her black, chin-length hair swing. “No. It just takes over when you need it, or when something moves fast enough to capture your attention. Your brain works faster than you can really think,” she added, finishing her iced tea. She held the empty glass in her hands, turning it between her palms. “Was it hard for you to become a zombie?” “I was only sixteen when I was killed. It was hard. My father went through a difficult time with me. I was rebellious. I wanted to go back to school, to keep my friends, and have fun.” She didn’t smile. Her eyes looked like two black pebbles, and somehow they conveyed all the sadness of the world. “I couldn’t do any of that. I was dead. My father had to hide me. Now, everyone thinks I’m his niece. I don’t look exactly like I did when I was alive. Neither do you, really. There is always something different.” “A loss of humanity,” Jack said. “Yes, that’s it.” She nodded. “I felt it very keenly.” “You say you felt it. You don’t feel it anymore?” “Oh, no. Now I am perfectly content.” She flashed him a wide smile. Jack wanted to believe her smile was sincere. It did look like a happy smile, and her eyes were no longer two sad, black pebbles. They twinkled. “I don’t know what I’m feeling yet,” he admitted. “I think scared is mostly what I’m feeling. And sad. I want something to look forward to.” May’s smile grew wider. “I brought something to show you. I think you will find you have something to look forward to after all.” She held up her purse, which Jack had noted was quite voluminous. “Is there a place I can change?” “The women’s bathroom is down the hall from the bar,” Jack said. “Oh, no, I can’t appear in public in the costume I brought with me.” Her smile made dimples on her cheeks. “Well, you can change here. I’ll stand outside the door. Call me when you’re done.” “You are a true gentleman, Jack.”

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Jack stood with his back to the office door and waited. After a few minutes, he heard May say, “All right.” He opened the door and stopped, stunned. May had changed from her demure, high-collared, pink silk outfit into something that looked like a black vinyl spray-paint job. She had long, black gloves, a tight black hood that covered her hair, and thigh-high boots with silver stiletto heels. “How can you run in those?” was Jack’s first question. “I can run in anything. But I don’t really need to run that fast. Vampires fly, so it’s better not to hope to catch them running. It’s a waiting game. A new breed of mutant has also come into the city. Werewolf mutants. My silver heels are detachable.” She reached down, pulled one off, and made a stabbing motion. “There, one dead werewolf,” she said, satisfaction in her voice. “Werewolves?” Jack hated the sarcasm that dripped in his voice, but he couldn’t help it. May didn’t seem to notice. She pulled her hood off and shook her head, freeing her hair. “They are as bad as vampires. And instead of preying on women, like most vampires do, werewolves prey on very young children. Thirteen children between the ages of three and seventeen disappeared from the city last year. About one child per month. Always on the full moon. The police put it down to runaways.” She snorted. “As if a three-year-old would run away.” “I can’t take it all in.” Jack’s head spun. He’d heard of mutants; who hadn’t? But vampires and werewolves were only in strange stories. Or maybe not. Maybe they were the ones that had always been around, and mutants were the strangers. Or did he have it all backward? Were humans clairvoyant and had anticipated the mutants, vampires and werewolves? Had popular folktales been written by people who could see into the future? “I go out at night to make sure the city is safe. If you want, I’ll take you with me,” May continued blithely, perched on the edge of the couch. She bent down and put her heel back on. “My father told me he would like you to accompany me one night to see what kind of work I do, and what kind of mutants have been developing lately.” “Are there so many?” Jack rubbed his face, still trying to make sense of his own musings. “No, not really. But there is a place in the city you should see. I can’t tell you anything else, but you have to come with me and see for yourself.” “I will. You look great,” Jack added. She spun around, making her silky hair swish. “Thanks. My father helped me make my costume. He’s a very good tailor.” Jack nodded. “Your father said he became a necromancer two hundred years ago. If you don’t mind me asking, when were you killed?” “I was killed in the year 1880,” said May.

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Jack’s jaw dropped. “How? I mean, your father said you were killed by a vampire. That’s a mutant, isn’t it?” “Mutants have been around a long time, although back then they were not the result of the nuclear meltdown.” She pointed to his poster. “Jack the Ripper was a mutant. He was a werewolf. The police thought he used a razor, but it was simply his claws.” “I suppose that would explain some things.” Jack shuddered. His theory had been almost right. Mutants had been around for a long, long time. Just under different names. “I wonder if there were more mutants in the past.” “Oh, no. The mutants nowadays are more common because of radiation. But we have lived with them throughout the ages. I have been tracking and killing them for over a hundred years. Long enough to get over my rebellious, teenage misery.” She smiled sadly. “And now I have a new teammate. You.” That came from left field. Jack thought if his jaw dropped once more it would probably fall off like his arm. Not a good thought. He closed his mouth before asking, “Did your father make other zombies in the space of time between you and me?” Her bright smile lost some of its wattage. “Yes. He made several. All were killed.” “By mutants?” “Yes, that’s exactly right. By mutants.” Her smile had turned into a grimace. “The last zombie was my beloved, Craig. But he was turned into a vampire by one of the mutants.” “A zombie vampire.” Jack couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He shook his head. “That’s terrible.” He noticed May was looking sadder than ever, and he took her hand. “I’m sorry. You said he was your beloved?” “Yes, and I had to kill him.” The last word ended on a muffled sob, and Jack pulled her to him, giving her a hug. May melted into his embrace. “Oh, Jack. Does this mean you’ll stay with me? I was so lonely for so long. My father made Craig for me, and we were so happy together. And when I saw you, I just knew it was meant to be.” “You mean I was made…” He was going to ask if he was made for her in addition to catching the Heart Taker, but at that moment the door opened, and Brianna stepped in. Her eyes widened, and she stepped out again, closing the door behind her. Jack disentangled himself from May’s embrace and stood up, but May held him by his hand, and his arm pulled out of its socket. He wanted to go after Brianna, but he had to take his shirt off and replace his arm first. “I’m sorry.” May helped him put it back in. “We’re going to have to do something about that. Maybe a brace. My father will make it. Don’t worry.” “That’s all right.”

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“My ankle is weak. That’s why I wear the high boots. They keep my foot in place. Did you know that the bigger the defect, the stronger the magic and the stronger the zombie? You must be very powerful and good.” This was more information than Jack needed right now. He put his hand on her slim shoulder and noted that although slender, she felt like steel and wires. “I have to talk to Brianna, all right?” “The girl who came in here?” But before he could answer, the door opened again. Mémé Hoya paused in the doorway. She saw May, and her eyebrows shot upward. “Why, hello, May. Jack. I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” “No, you’re not.” Jack looked over her head out the door. “Where did Brianna go?” “She went home. She seemed upset.” Mémé Hoya heaved a rather big sigh. “She got fired from her job this morning.” “That’s awful. What happened?” Mémé Hoya gave him a keen glance. “She thinks the Heart Taker was in the casino today. She came to talk to me about it, and she wanted to see you…but May was here. She might have gotten the wrong impression. I’m starting to see clearly, though.” She pointed to May’s costume. “The better to kill with, my dear. Is that right?” May beamed. “Yes. I am a vampire hunter. And lately I have added the werewolves and the shape-shifters to my list.” “That’s a dangerous business to be in, May.” Mémé Hoya frowned. “Was it your father’s idea?” “Both our ideas, actually. Do you mind waiting outside? I need to change.” Jack stood outside the office door and watched as Davinia and Chloe set up tables. They didn’t see him, he was standing in shadow, but even in the dark club he could see everything clearly. He started to see the difference between his vision when he was living and now that he was a zombie. He could see in the dark, like a cat. “You can come in now,” May called. She was once again dressed in her demure, belowthe-knee, high-collared, pink silk dress. Mémé Hoya was on the couch, looking pensive. When Jack came back in the room, she said, “May told me what she does, and I’m impressed. But she didn’t tell you an important part of it, did she?” She shot a look at May that Jack didn’t understand. “Tell him all of it, May.” She didn’t look too happy, Jack thought uneasily. “What is the problem?” “It’s not exactly a problem. Well, actually, it is.” May sighed. “You have to understand that mutants are very powerful, far more dangerous than you can imagine. Their very blood is tainted and also…contagious.” She paused, letting that sink in. “When a vampire kills a person, the person is dead and can’t come back, despite what they show on the movies. But

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sometimes a vampire will make another vampire. On a whim, out of malice, or by accident. All it takes is a particular balance between the vampire’s saliva and blood, and the human’s blood. And the same is true for the werewolves. If they kill you, which they do most of the time because humans are mostly what they eat, you’re dead. But a severe bite, with enough werewolf saliva and blood, and the person becomes a werewolf.” “That’s not the point,” said Mémé Hoya. “The point is, when May was killed by a vampire, she had enough vampire blood and saliva in her system for her father to recreate some of the vampire characteristics in May.” Jack suddenly saw what they were getting at. Instinctively he put his hand on his chest. “The Heart Taker killed me.” “Yes. My father saw his chance there, Jack. You were young, strong, and there were enough traces of the Heart Taker’s DNA from microscopic…” May broke off and bit her lower lip. “I know it’s a shock. I should have told you before. But it’s always a shock, no matter when you learn it.” “I think I need a drink,” said Jack. He got up and went out to the bar where Suki poured him a double scotch. “You look mighty pale, man. What’s wrong?” “Nothing. Thanks, Suki.” There was something to be said for a strong drink, Jack thought as he sipped his whiskey. The handbook said an occasional whiskey, beer, or red wine was permitted. Thank goodness for small favors. He went back to the office where May and Mémé Hoya were sitting on opposite ends of the couch staring at each other with mutual distrust. May pointed at her watch. “I have to go. My father will be worried. I will call a cab.” She gave a rueful grin. “Another problem I have is with direct sunlight. I envy you Jack. You can go out in broad daylight. I have to keep to shade and shadow. I’m more comfortable at night. I’ll be back to see you soon. I have something important I need to show you.” Jack watched her leave. “Should I go see Brianna and tell her all this?” Jack asked Mémé Hoya. “You can tell her tonight. Here comes Dee. I want to see your rehearsal.” Mémé Hoya patted his arm, making it shift slightly in its socket. “You are going to have to do something about that.” “I know,” murmured Jack. He stared at the amber liquid in his glass. Things were starting to fall into place. It was like watching a kaleidoscope. First the chips of glass spun and turned, blurred, and then they stopped spinning, and the pattern emerged. Little things became clear and sharp-edged. The whole picture took shape, and even though the design was unfamiliar, it was whole. There were no more pieces missing. Or were there? What did May mean when she said he’d been made for her? What was the important thing May needed to show him?

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Chapter Eleven The Chosen One Well, it wouldn’t have lasted anyway, Brianna thought as she crawled under her covers and pulled them up over her head. He was too good-looking, and even if he was a zombie, girls would be falling all over themselves to get near him. He was sexy and gorgeous, and there was no way she could tell he wasn’t human, except when his arm fell off. So he’d been tangled with a girl in Dee’s office. So she was supernaturally beautiful. So what? Well, she couldn’t compete, that’s what. She wouldn’t lower herself to beg Jack to be true to her if he wasn’t interested. She had too much pride. She punched her pillow. So what was so important about pride? Everything, that’s what. She was going to push him away first. Her heart had been broken one time too many, that’s all. She tossed and turned, sleep eluding her. Jack came home, and although he shut the door quietly, she heard it. The thought of Jack sleeping on the couch in her living room was like torture. She wanted to go wake him up. She wanted to feel his body covering hers again. She wanted to erase the vision of him and that black-haired siren from her mind. But most of all she wanted to cry. Instead, she called Jeffrey and told him about her run-in with the Heart Taker. “I’ll call the reservation police and get the deposition,” he said when she’d finished. “And the city police. I was there again too. Inspector Morrison was in charge this time.” Brianna rubbed her temples. “I spoke to someone who thinks the Heart Taker has a pattern.” “That’s one theory.” He didn’t sound surprised. Brianna paused, waiting for him to say something else. When he didn’t, she plowed ahead, “I’m pretty sure he’ll kill again on Halloween night. I even think he was casing the casino for a victim. You’ve got close ties to the reservation. What do you think, Jeffrey?”

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The silence lasted a long time, and then Jeffrey said, “We think so too.” His voice sounded odd. “Can you tell me something about it?” “No. Listen, I have to go. My wife isn’t feeling well, and I want to check on her.” Brianna’s face contracted. “I’m so sorry, Jeffrey.” “We’ll talk about this later, all right?” He hung up, not giving her time to say good-bye. Brianna put her phone back on the table slowly, a strange tingling on the back of her neck. Her instincts were screaming that Jeffrey was hiding something from her about the Heart Taker. What could it be? She’d have to find a way to get him to tell her. She hated secrets. Brianna woke up the next morning with a crick in her neck. The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was a piece of paper lying on her blanket, just above her knees. She hitched herself up on her elbows and squinted at her watch. It was just after six. Wincing at the pain in her neck, she sat up and rubbed her head. Then she yawned and picked up the paper. Who could have left that there? Could it have been Jack? She unfolded it, and saw it was a poem written in scarlet ink. Frowning a bit, she read: “Roses are red, violets are blue. I’ve chosen my next heart…and, darling, it’s you.” It was signed, “Yours truly, the Heart Taker.” Hearts might be able to heal if they were broken, but if they went missing it was curtains forever.

***** Brianna didn’t remember screaming. Jack rushed into her room and grabbed her. She grabbed him back. All right, she remembered thinking. Everything is all right. But no, nothing was right. The letter sat on her bed and glowered at her, the red ink looking like dried blood. She cuddled deeper into Jack’s reassuring embrace. Suddenly she remembered seeing Jack in the beautiful girl’s arms and last night’s resolution. “I got a letter from the Heart Taker,” she told Jack, pushing him away from her. He picked up the letter and looked at it. “You have to call the police.” “Right. And after yesterday they’ll never take me seriously.” Brianna could just imagine the looks she’d get. “What do you mean, after yesterday?” He perched on the edge of her bed. “What happened? You just left the club without speaking to me. Why didn’t you wait?” Brianna dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand. “Look, Jack, I just want to be friends for a while. I think you need time to adjust to your new life, and I don’t want to interfere.” “What are you talking about?”

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“That girl yesterday was very beautiful.” “May?” “If that’s her name.” Brianna unclenched her fist. “That’s her name. She’s the zombie I was telling you about. Mr. Ling-Li’s daughter.” His words confirmed her worst fears. “I’m glad for you,” she said bravely. “She looks like a lovely person.” She paused. A lovely, glow-in-the-dark person, she added to herself. “Will you be staying with her now?” “Staying with her?” Jack raised his eyebrows. “She didn’t say anything about that.” He hesitated. “She said she had something important to show me.” “What is it?” “I don’t know, so I can’t tell you about it.” He sounded apologetic. He also didn’t meet her gaze, and she could tell he was hiding something. Brianna felt tears prick her eyes, so she dug her fingernails back into the palm of her hand and smiled brightly. “That’s all right. I understand. Sort of a secret pact between zombies.” Jack shook his head. “No, not at all.” He cleared his throat and looked up at her. “This isn’t telling me what happened yesterday. What happened? Mémé Hoya said something about you seeing the Heart Taker. Is that true?” For a minute Brianna wanted to pout and say no, that she had her secrets too, but this was too serious. “I think the Heart Taker came to the reservation casino yesterday. I got fired by my client because of it, and I gave my deposition to the police. That’s why I can’t go there with the note. They’ll only think I’m trying to call attention to myself.” “But why? You have a note! There might be fingerprints or something!” Brianna wished it were so simple. “None of the other notes had fingerprints. And here’s the most important point. All the other notes were found stuffed in the bloody space the victim’s heart had occupied. So if I bring a clean note with no fingerprints to the police station and tell them I found it on my bed, they’re going to tell me to go find something else to do with my spare time. And if I do insist, they’ll come here and maybe dust for fingerprints. And whose fingerprints will they find? Some guy’s who has been dead for a while, some dead guy who shouldn’t be out running around the city. So who will they start suspecting? You, Jack. In their minds, you will become the Heart Taker.” “But the Heart Taker killed me. Why should I be like him?” “Because of the vampires. Some people became vampires after getting bitten. I bet the police will just figure you’ve turned into the Heart Taker and that you were the one who put the note on my bed. You picked it up. Your prints are already on it. They’ll arrest you and throw away the key.” “That’s absurd.” He didn’t sound convinced, though. He looked worried. Brianna took a deep breath. A horrifying thought suddenly occurred to her. What if the Heart Taker was like a werewolf, and the people he killed turned into bloodthirsty

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mutants with a penchant for ripping out hearts? What if Jack had become like the Heart Taker? Could he have written this note? She eased away from him warily. “What is it?” “Nothing.” “Tell me. Don’t look at me that way.” Brianna examined the note. She recognized the writing. Even so, it might not be the Heart Taker. Anyone with a little talent could imitate handwriting. But none of the handwritten notes had been published -- only typed examples. Jack had been dead. He couldn’t have seen the writing. And even if he did come down with some of the Heart Taker’s capabilities, he wouldn’t inherit his handwriting. At least, she didn’t think so. She took a pen and a paper from her bedside table and shoved them toward him. “Write ‘Roses are Red.’” His startled, hurt expression stabbed her, but she nodded firmly. “Go on.” He did and handed her the paper. Not the same writing at all. Brianna knew about handwriting. Her grandmother had loved calligraphy. “I had to know,” she said. “The only ones here are you and me.” “That’s all right. I understand.” His jaw was drawn in a tight line. “Jack…” “I said, I understand.” His jaw lost some of its tightness. “You saw the note, didn’t you? The one in my chest?” “Yes.” “Was it the same writing?” “Yes.” She drew her knees up to her chin. “I saw the note, so I saw the handwriting. Hardly anyone else did. As a result the police can accuse me of copying the writing too. Do you understand why I’m not rushing off to show them this?” Another thought occurred to her. “Jack, what if the Heart Taker saw you? What if he’s doing this on purpose? Maybe he’s not really interested in me, but in you.” “What do you mean?” Brianna put her hand to her mouth. “Jack, what if the Heart Taker knows you’re back?”

***** Jack felt his stomach contract. She spoke the truth. He was more like the Heart Taker than he could admit to her. Maybe the Heart Taker did know he was back. Was that possible? Could he be stalking him right now, meaning to kill him again? A chill of worry gnawed at him. He had to tell Brianna. But if he did tell her, she’d think he was even more monstrous than he already was. What was worse than a zombie? A zombie with super speed, who could rip someone’s heart out without being seen.

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He shook his head. He couldn’t tell her anything just yet. “Tell me more about what happened at the casino.” After Brianna told him, he thought for a minute. “If the Heart Taker came here last night, I don’t think he did it because he knew I was here. I bet he saw me, and he didn’t kill you because I was here.” Brianna’s face turned ashen. “I didn’t think of that,” she whispered. “Here’s what I think happened. He followed you from the casino because you sensed his presence. That’s never happened before. He came here last night intending to kill you, but on his way through the living room, he saw me. Maybe he didn’t even realize it was me until he was in this room. He moves so fast…” Brianna shot out of the bed, shoving him aside. She dashed to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. “Brianna, are you all right?” “Get out of here. Just pack your clothes and get out of here.” Her words would have stabbed him in the heart, had he a heart. “I can’t leave you alone now.” He leaned his head against the door. “Yes, you can. You can go stay with your zombie girlfriend in the sexy, skin-tight Catwoman suit,” Brianna sobbed. Oh. So that’s what Mémé Hoya had meant by the misunderstanding. “Bree, we need to talk.” “Don’t call me Bree.” Her voice was muffled. “Oh, God, I can’t believe how awful I feel.” There was only one thing he could do. It didn’t take long to decide. Brianna was his friend. He trusted her. Jack sat down outside the door and told her everything May had told him about him being part speed-mutant. When he finished, he waited for her to say something. Silence. “Did you hear what I said?” he asked, knocking timidly on the door. “Yeah.” The door opened, and since he was leaning on it, he fell in. He caught himself with his good arm, though. He had finally started to adapt to his handicap. “Brianna, don’t ask me to leave you alone. I won’t. If the Heart Taker has decided you’re going to be his next victim, I’m going to be by your side twenty-four hours a day until I catch that bastard. He killed me. I’m not going to let him get you too. Brianna looked at him, her eyes red and swollen. “That is the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.” To Jack’s consternation, she burst into tears again. “My life is so pathetic.” “What do you mean?” He followed her to her bedroom, where she threw herself on her bed.

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“I’m being stalked by the Heart Taker, my boyfriend is a zombie, and I get my thrills patting down suspects.” She pounded her fist into the pillow. “What do you mean you get your thrills patting down suspects?” She bit her lip and blurted, “I pull guys’ pants down to get a look at their equipment. It’s more satisfying than having a relationship.” She put her hands over her face. “I can’t believe I just said that to you.” Jack sat on her bed. “Well, what about my life? I’m a zombie, my arm falls off, and my girlfriend gets her kicks taking other guys’ clothes off.” Brianna rolled over and looked at him. “It almost sounds like we’re even.” “Yeah. Almost.” Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “I told you everything May said to me. She has a purpose to her life. What do you think I should do?” “Isn’t tomorrow night the grand opening for Dee’s club?” “Thursday already?” Jack shook his head. “I can’t get over it. I was killed a year ago. I was resuscitated on Monday, and tomorrow evening I’m starring in a burlesque show at The Purple Dee.” “Do you feel like you missed a whole year from your life?” He thought about it. “No. I feel like maybe there’s a week gone, or a month. Did you ever get so sick when you were a kid you had to stay in bed for a long time, and when you went back to school, it all seemed strange? That happened to me once. I don’t remember why I was sick, but when I went back to school I had the feeling everyone was different. That’s how it is now.” Brianna sat up and took the poem the Heart Taker had left on her bed. She crumpled it up and tossed it into the wastepaper basket in the corner of her room. “Two points. I think you better concentrate on your show. After that, we’ll take it from there.” She gave him a wobbly smile. “Still friends?” Jack asked. Her smile faded. “Yeah, we’re still friends, but I don’t love you anymore.” She got up and went back into the bathroom, and he heard the sound of the shower running. Jack didn’t know what it was about women. You mention the word friend, and they deflate like a punctured balloon. When would they understand that for a man, a friend was something special? Lovers he could find anywhere. But friends were as rare and precious as diamonds. He put his face in his hands and sighed. And the Heart Taker had marked one of Jack’s friends as his next victim. He had better go talk to Jim Ling-Li and find out how to become a monster killer. He looked out the window. The river flowed sluggishly by, barges chugging back and forth, foam frothing at their bows. Maybe he’d even get a cool superhero costume. Nothing too flashy. Flash. Flash Gordon. He blinked. The Heart Taker was a sort of Flash Gordon gone to the dark side. He wondered suddenly how many mutants were out there, and how

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many were good, and why some turned bad. Logically there had to be good mutants out there too, otherwise he and May would have been reborn with evil intent and the urge to kill helpless humans. He didn’t have the urge to kill anyone. Not even the Heart Taker. He’d have to get some handcuffs from somewhere. A barge blew its horn, and another one answered. Like lumbering prehistoric beasts swimming in the river, they passed each other with mournful bellows and curling waves. Then they both disappeared around the bend into the golden morning fog. Jack wanted to see Jim Ling-Li, but he couldn’t leave Brianna alone. He also wanted to drop in and see Mémé Hoya again. She’d been so helpful to him, and yesterday after the rehearsal, she’d clapped the longest and the loudest. He had to find a way to convince Brianna to come with him. She came out of the shower wrapped in several layers of towel and bathrobe. “You’re still in my room.” She pointedly looked at the door. “I feel bad. Because of me, the Heart Taker got in last night.” She blinked. “I didn’t even think about that. How did he get in here?” “I bet I didn’t shut the door all the way behind me. I was tired after rehearsal, and I must not have closed it hard enough.” Her eyes widened. “It wasn’t you. I used the back door, and it gets jammed sometimes. I didn’t even think to check. Don’t feel bad.” “I feel bad anyway. Stay here, I’m going to go make sure both doors are closed. The Heart Taker might be as fast as light speed, but he can’t go through doors. If we keep them locked, we should be all right.” Jack looked at the front door, but it was locked. It was the type of door that automatically locked; all you had to do is make sure it was shut properly. The back door, however, was slightly ajar. With a frown, he closed it, and because it was a bolt lock, he bolted it. “I think we should leave the back door locked,” said Jack. “And you might think about calling a locksmith and installing deadbolts on the front door as well.” Brianna sat on the bed looking glum. “I never lock up,” she said. “I never got in the habit of doing that.” “And you never got robbed?” “Nope. I just figured if they were desperate enough to break in, they would be desperate enough to use a crowbar, and there aren’t many locks that can resist a crowbar. Besides, I have nothing to steal. My television is old, my stereo sucks, and my jewelry is all fake.” “I remember some things about my old life. When I was about thirteen, I think, someone broke into our house and stole a bunch of stuff. The house was ransacked. My mother cried, my father called the police, and I felt as if everything in my room needed to be

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washed. I hated the idea of someone I didn’t know coming in and going through my things.” Jack sat on the bed next to her and put his arm around her shoulder. “Do you remember your family?” “Not really. Just bits and pieces. I know they died in a car accident, but I can’t recall how old I was or where it happened. I don’t remember where I grew up -- no street names sound familiar here, so I think maybe I was from out of state.” He shrugged. “When I met you, you told me you were a student of architecture. You said you were in your last year of college and that you were looking forward to starting work. I don’t remember you telling me much about your family, or I’d help you out.” “Oh, don’t feel bad.” “But I do.” She sniffed a bit, and he was surprised to see tears on her cheeks. “I don’t want to remember.” He meant it. He wanted no regrets, and the best way to avoid them was to avoid his past. What he didn’t know couldn’t come back to haunt him.

***** The day passed slowly. Jack didn’t want Brianna to leave her apartment. When he went to rehearsal she locked the doors and windows and thought about calling her shrink. She’d stopped going to see her a couple months ago. Her health insurance stopped covering it, and she thought that she probably didn’t need her anymore. There was nothing else to say. She wondered what her shrink would say if she called up and told her that Jack was back. Would she insist Brianna come in right away? Would she lock her up? No one would believe her. Feeling blue, she made herself a cup of instant soup and went to the closet where she kept her old photo albums. Her parents had died when she was a baby, and her grandmother had raised her. She’d lived all her life in this brick apartment building overlooking the docks. She sat on the couch and opened the first album, studying the black-and-white photos her grandmother had carefully pasted and labeled. These strangers were her family, people she’d never met or hardly knew. For some reason, most had died young. Grave faces stared back at her. Women with neat, bobbed hair. Men with mustaches and knickers. Children with serious eyes, pursed lips, and white dresses. Names and dates written in her grandmother’s flowery calligraphy were next to most of the photographs. Brianna preferred the photos of her grandmother. She took the second album, the one with her immediate family, and opened it. It started with her grandmother’s parents -- old, faded, sepia photos of her Irish immigrant great-grandparents. There was her grandmother as a child, wearing a Liberty-print frock and lace-up boots. Before her eyes, her grandmother grew, turned into a leggy flapper, and got married to a large-boned blond man with a handlebar mustache -- her grandfather Joseph, who Brianna had never known.

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Brianna’s mother came next in the album. Born when Brianna’s grandmother had given up all hope for children, Alice, Brianna’s mother, was a chubby, dimpled, curly-haired moppet. She grinned toothlessly as a baby in her father’s arms, beamed as a gap-toothed toddler held proudly on her father’s knees, then posed as a smiling teen in her flared skirt and button-down sweater, holding her father’s hand as he stared at her with what looked like awe. Her grandfather vanished from the pictures after that page. Joseph had died of the flu that winter. All Alice’s wedding pictures were in another album, so this one skipped from Alice as a teen to Alice holding a bundle wrapped in a pink blanket -- Brianna. She posed facing the river on the front steps of the building, her smile still brilliant, her red hair still curly, and the early morning sun making her squint. That was the last photo of Alice. She had left Brianna with her mother to accompany her husband on a trip to California, where they had both died tragically in an accident. Brianna only had pictures of her father at the wedding. He had been a slender man with sandy hair, a thin face, dark blue eyes, and a smile that seemed to reach from ear to ear. She picked up her parents slim wedding album and flipped through it. Her father’s smile lit each picture like a beacon. It made her both terribly sad and happy at the same time. How she wished she’d known her parents. With a sigh she set the album down and picked up the last one. It was the fattest one, with the most pages. That album was all Brianna. Her grandmother had loved taking photos. Brianna looked a little like her mother with her curly, red hair, a little like her grandmother with long legs and wide shoulders, and even a little like her grandfather Joseph, if you noticed his strong chin. She could remember what she’d been doing and where she was for most of the pictures. Her grandmother posed her on the docks, in the park, and on the front steps, where her mother had stood on that sunny, long lost day. Taking a deep breath, she turned the page to the last photograph. In that last picture she posed proudly on the front steps. She was wearing her police uniform. It was her first morning on the job, and the last photo her grandmother ever took. A small sigh escaped her and she touched the picture lightly, remembering the crisp feel of the uniform and the almost bursting-with-happiness feeling she’d had. A week later, someone had pushed her grandmother down and stolen her purse. When she fell, she’d broken her hip and died not long after from what the doctors called “complications.” Brianna knew all about complications. Her whole life was one complication after another…and it didn’t seem like things were going to change. When Jack got back, it was late. Brianna had sandwiches on the coffee table. She’d left the albums out, and Jack took a sandwich and pored over the photos, making her tell him everyone’s stories.

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But there was one more album. A folder, more like it, with just some newspaper clippings in it. Brianna had hesitated for a long time before getting this one out. Finally, when Jack had exhausted all the stories about her grandmother and her camera, she slid the folder from beneath the bottom album and pushed it across the coffee table toward him. He took it and opened it on his lap. Then he looked up at her, his expression unreadable. Brianna crumpled her napkin in her hands. “I know you say you have some holes in your memory. I thought perhaps this would help.” He fingered the clippings, nodded, and held them up to study. “My parents didn’t come to my funeral because they’re dead. But I recognize my aunts and uncles, my grandparents even. That’s my cousin Joey and his twin, Melanie.” He closed his eyes. “It’s like standing in the surf. The waves come at me, and I can’t stop them.” “I’m sorry.” “No, it’s all right.” He ran his finger over the newspaper. “Do you want to call anyone? Your cousins?” He gave a laugh, but it sounded more like a sob. “No. They were at my funeral. They won’t believe me, or they’ll be horrified…like you were.” Brianna was going to tell him she hadn’t been horror-struck, but she couldn’t. She’d been so frightened she’d peed her pants. She’d never been as shocked as that moment, when Jack had said his name and turned around. If she’d had a weak heart, she’d be dead right now. As it was, she had somehow accepted that Jack was back, but he wasn’t the same man she’d known. She didn’t feel the same way about him. There was a difference. She’d only known him for about a month. What would it be like for his family, who had known and loved him all his life? “They deserve to know, though.” “I’ll be a monster to them,” Jack protested. He smoothed the newspaper clipping over his knee, and a faint smile tugged his lips. “There was a nice crowd there that day. And there you are, right next to Joey.” “I didn’t know it was your cousin.” “You look pretty in black.” “Oh, stop it!” Brianna stood up. “I looked like hell, because I felt like hell. I had the worst upset stomach of my life. My throat was so sore from screaming and then giving the deposition, that I couldn’t talk anymore. I don’t remember how I got to the cemetery or even how I got back home. I can’t believe you can look at pictures of your family and not want to see them. Mine are all dead. Every person in that album except me is dead. Look at that crowd. You have a huge family! Don’t you want to…” “Brianna.” He stood up and took her in his arms. He had to struggle with her for a minute, because she didn’t feel like standing still, she felt like punching someone. But maybe it was just sadness, the kind of sadness that makes you feel like your body is a bottomless

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well. “I’m glad you showed me the newspaper clippings. They make me feel stronger somehow. They remind me that there are still people who think of me and who loved me. Hopefully they still think about me. But I’m not really ‘me’ anymore, am I?” he asked gently. Brianna felt her knees giving away and a whole bunch of stupid tears surging up from that well of sorrow. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” “You didn’t.” He helped her sit on the couch and handed her a napkin. “You went to my funeral. You kept the clippings. You thought I might like to see them, but you weren’t sure what my reaction would be. It’s not the same as you looking at your own albums, and that scared you. Because you realized I’m not human anymore. I’m sorry.” He got up. “I’ll do the dishes.” And he carried the plates back to the kitchen. Brianna wiped her face off and sat, shoulders hunched, wet napkin in her hands. There was a strange taste in her mouth, like ashes. Reaching out, she stacked the albums up and put the folder on the top. She put them back in the closet and went to find Jack. “You’re not a monster,” she told him. “How do you know?” “Monsters don’t offer to clean up.” She managed a crooked grin and helped him put the dishes away.

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Chapter Twelve Nothing but a Heartache The next morning was Thursday, the day of the grand opening at The Purple Dee. Brianna called Jeffrey at Jack’s urging. Not that it took much urging. Jeffrey was one of Brianna’s favorite people, and she knew she could count on him. He agreed to meet Brianna at her apartment that evening, after he got off work, to talk about the Heart Taker. “Oh, and could you bring me my handcuffs back?” Brianna said. “The ones I left on the purse snatcher the other day.” “I have them in my drawer.” Brianna could hear his chair creak as he leaned forward, and she heard the sound of a drawer opening and the clink of hard metal. “I’ve got them. Anything else?” “If you have a list of homicides in the past twelve months, I’d appreciate that too.” Jeffrey paused. “Are you doing this on your own or for a client?” “Both.” Brianna looked at Jack who nodded approvingly. “What are you looking for exactly?” “Mutant activity.” “Is this about our conversation last night? About the pattern?” “Sort of.” Brianna clutched the phone tightly. Jeffrey was being very cagey about something. Now the pause was longer. “None of this can go public. You understand, right? If your client can’t be trusted, don’t give away any information.” “That bad, huh?” Brianna felt a chill up her spine. “I promise my client can be trusted.” She looked at Jack. He was making signs with his hands. Pointing to paper, ink, his

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fingertips…oh, that’s right. “Jeffrey, can you run a scan on some prints I have? Just to see what you come up with?” “Can you send them by e-mail? A high-resolution TIFF file would be best.” “Will do. Thanks. See you this evening.” She hung up and Jack hugged her. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome. All right, let’s get you fingerprinted and send those prints off to the lab. We’ll see if you’re still in the system.” She helped Jack put his prints on the paper, scanned them, and sent them to Jeffrey’s e-mail with a note asking him to bring the results with him, if he could. They went out to get some groceries, but Jack wanted to stop in and see Mémé Hoya first. It was across town, but the tram was direct, so it didn’t take long. When they got to the building, they were shocked to see a demolition sign out front. Brianna followed Jack up the rickety wooden stairs. Mémé Hoya’s door was open, and when they knocked, she called, “Come in!” The apartment was full of cardboard boxes. Her bookcase was empty, the kitchen was bare, and Mémé Hoya looked frazzled with her glasses perched on the top of her head, her kinky gray hair pulled in a tight bun, and an apron tied askew around her waist. “What happened?” Brianna asked. “I got evicted.” She shrugged. “Been squatting here for ten years, and now it seems it’s time to go.” “Where?” Jack asked, looking around. “I suppose I’ll go back to the trailer park. That’s where I was before. I have friends I can call who will take me in. But Sally didn’t like it. Said it made her head ache. Too much aluminum around her. Trailer was made of aluminum, it seems. Spirits need wood and natural stone or brick around them. Otherwise they get sort of frazzled, like a string that unwinds.” “Oh. And I always thought those people with the foil wrapped around their heads were nuts,” said Brianna. She shook her head. This wasn’t right. Poor Mémé Hoya and poor Sally. She tried to imagine being a frazzled spirit and made a decision. “You can’t go to the trailer park if it will hurt Sally. I have a big apartment. You can stay in the office. I did a favor for a guy with a moving van. Let me call him and ask him if he can take your furniture over for you. My office only has a desk and a chair in it, so there’s room for your bed, table, and bookcase, if you want.” Mémé Hoya beamed at her. “Thank you, dear. I promise it won’t be for long. The cards have been very clear. Disaster, rescue, terrible danger, and another move shortly after. Of course, they don’t give me any details so I can’t say if the terrible danger means I’ll be moving into the trailer park after all.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of lemon drops. “Have one?”

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“I’ll do my best to see you don’t have to,” said Brianna, taking a lemon drop. “Are you eligible for any kind of federal help?” “Child, I came from Haiti hiding on a banana boat with my family. I’ve been clandestine ever since. I don’t have a driver’s license, insurance, or a passport. I’ve been offered at least ten credit cards, though.” She shook her head at a spot next to Brianna. “Nothing in this world makes any sense, Sally. What? Oh, I’ll ask her.” She turned to Brianna. “Sally wants to give you a hug.” “Uh, sure.” Brianna wasn’t sure what would happen. She closed her eyes and felt a sort of cold, electric feeling around her waist, and something like a breath of icy air brushed her cheek. All of a sudden, the feeling vanished. She’d been hugged by a ghost. And the Heart Taker had written her a poem. “There’s just one thing about staying in my apartment.” She cleared her throat. “The Heart Taker has decided he wants to kill me, and he knows where I live.” Mémé Hoya opened her eyes wide. “So that’s the terrible danger the cards spoke of.” Her expression turned pensive. “The cards never lie. They’re just obscure. I do hope that the last move they’re speaking of isn’t to a cemetery, though. Sally hates those places more than anything.” Brianna spent the rest of the morning on the phone trying to get Mémé Hoya’s furniture delivered to her place. It wasn’t easy. The person who owed her a favor didn’t have his truck anymore, but he knew someone who owed him a favor and so on down the line, until finally she cornered someone with a truck. The person with the truck agreed, but only if he could come right away, because he had a job that evening. There was a blur then, as everything got packed and carried down to the sidewalk. Sally showed Jack where to get more boxes from behind the Maxi-Mart down the street. In no time, Mémé’s clothes, books, kitchen, and knickknacks were crammed in cardboard boxes and ready to go. There really wasn’t much. The truck rumbled into view, and Brianna was relieved to see that the driver was big and strong. He helped Jack carry the furniture while Brianna and Mémé Hoya got the lighter boxes. By lunchtime, Mémé Hoya had moved into Brianna’s office. It was a tight squeeze. The bed was bigger than Brianna thought, and her office was smaller than she’d imagined. It had looked large with just the desk in it, but with a bed, bookcase, and boxes, it overflowed. “There’s a toilet and sink here for the office, but you’ll have to share my bath and shower.” The office was not actually part of the apartment. It was connected by a hallway and must have been the maid’s quarters at one time. Mémé Hoya looked around, her hands on her hips. “This building must be old. Older even than the one I lived in.”

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“It was built in the early nineteen hundreds, and originally, it was a hotel. They made it into apartment buildings after the depression. I inherited this apartment from my grandmother. She told me it used to just sparkle here.” “It’s very nice,” said Mémé Hoya. She went to the bow window and looked out. “And such a nice view over the river. Do you get many clients? Where will you meet them while I’m here?” “Oh, don’t worry about it. I usually meet my clients in shady bars,” said Brianna. “And an agency that supplies bodyguards hires me out from their end, so I don’t use the office anyway. I just have it because of taxes. Professional square footage is cheaper than residential.” She looked at the little room, crammed full of boxes, and thought of how it had been while she lived with her grandmother. She’d covered the rosebud wallpaper with stark white paint and made her childhood bedroom into an office after her grandmother had passed away. But how many hours had she spent sitting in the window seat, watching the river? The sun was already setting, and her stomach growled. She realized she’d missed lunch. Mémé Hoya was still perched on the window seat. A warm feeling flooded Brianna. It was like having her grandmother back again. She shook her head a little sharply. Was that why she’d invited Mémé Hoya here? That wouldn’t be fair to anyone. Mémé Hoya wasn’t her grandmother and never would be. So why was she so happy she was there? Brianna dug her fingernails into her hands. She was starting to sound just like her shrink, looking for a reason for everything. Maybe things just happened. Maybe you met someone who needed help, and you could help them. Maybe your boyfriend got killed, but came back to life. And speaking of her boyfriend. Jack stood by the door looking a little shell-shocked. As she watched him, a shiver ran over his body. Home is where the heart is, she thought. And Jack has no heart. Where would he ever feel at home? Sharp pity assailed her, but she knew he would not want it. “Are you all right?” she asked him. He turned to her, his blue eyes almost electric in the gathering dusk. “Just hungry. I’m always hungry with this new body.” “It’s a different metabolism,” agreed Mémé Hoya, standing up and stretching. “I’d like to invite you to dinner. Is there a good restaurant around here, Brianna? Oh, and I forgot to tell you, I’m paying rent here. Don’t argue.” Brianna, who had just opened her mouth to argue, shut it and nodded. “All right,” she said. “Let’s go to Alfredo’s. They have good food, and they serve all day.” The three of them trooped out the door, and Brianna thought to check all the locks before they left.

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Chapter Thirteen Spirits Jack saw a few ghosts as they walked down the street. He’d been able to see Sally clearly all day. The poor spirit had been crying most of the time, huddled on Mémé Hoya’s bed. A couple times Jack had tried to speak to her, but she didn’t seem to be able to hear him, or she was too upset to pay attention. But he saw other spirits too. They were far more shadowy than Sally, and sometimes he wasn’t even sure if what he saw was a shadow or a spirit. Other times the specter was clear, like the old hobo on the corner, or the couple dressed in clothes from the eighteen hundreds. The woman wore a long dress with a fur collar, and the man had on a coat and tails, and carried a top hat under his arm. They looked like they were going to the opera. And then, just as they arrived outside Alfredo’s, time went strange again and everything stopped. Everything, that is, except a smiling man walking just on the other side of the street. As Jack caught sight of him, the man picked up his pace, breaking into a run. Everyone else was frozen in place. And Jack, who had no heart, felt a jolt in his chest. “Hold it right there!” Jack shouted as he dashed across the street. But the man didn’t wait for him. He looked startled, his smile slipped, and his dark eyes hardened. “Now that’s unexpected,” the man said, and he ran away. He ran like a bead of mercury shooting across the floor. Jack thought he could keep up, but didn’t want to leave his friends behind. Slowing down, he saw the man vanish around a corner. He didn’t want time to snap back yet, so he hurried. He ran back to Brianna’s side as she stood, frozen, her hand out toward the front door of the restaurant. He’d just seen the Heart Taker, and Jack knew they were in trouble. “What did he look like?” Brianna asked once their food came, and he told them what had happened.

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“He was tall, and he might be part or whole Native American, but it was hard to tell. He just glanced at me and ran off.” Jack put his fork down and leaned over the table. “He had tan skin and wore jeans and sneakers, I think, and a brown tweed jacket over a navy blue shirt. His hair was very short, in a buzz cut, and either black or dark brown, I think. It was hard to tell. I never got close to him. He looked like a demon, though, and his eyes are very dark, almost black” “He’s not a demon, he’s a mutant.” Mémé Hoya opened her purse and took out a credit card. “No, I’m getting this,” she said to Brianna, who had also reached for her purse. “Jack, do you think you can move as quickly as he does?” “I’m not sure.” Jack had wondered about that himself. “But one thing I do know. The Heart Taker didn’t expect me to be able to move so fast. I think that now he’ll be careful about what he does.” “Do you think he’s following Brianna around?” Mémé Hoya sounded upset. “I’m not afraid. Now we know that if he moves quickly, he’ll switch on your motion sensor, and you’ll see him.” Brianna gave him a rather crooked grin. “So let’s not worry about it, all right?” Jack wasn’t sure he shared her confidence. But he was glad of one thing; the Heart Taker could not go unnoticed by him. Mr. Ling-Li had gotten something right, after all.

***** That evening, Jeffrey came over to Brianna’s apartment with the results of the fingerprints and the handcuffs. Jack, who was hiding in Brianna’s bedroom, could see a little bit through a crack in the partially opened door and hear every word. There was something oddly familiar about Jeffrey. Jack looked carefully. His hair was very short and black, and he was tall and looked like a Native American. But his eyes were kind, not demonic, and he wasn’t wearing a brown jacket or jeans. He wore his regulation police uniform and had a black holster strapped around his waist. No, he couldn’t be the Heart Taker. Jack concentrated on his words. “The fingerprints belong to your ex-boyfriend,” Jeffrey said, handing a sheaf of papers to Brianna. “And here is a report on the latest homicides.” So his prints were still linked to his identity. Jack didn’t know if that would help or hinder, although he suspected it would prove to be more of a problem than anything else. Jeffrey’s next words confirmed this. “Where did you get the prints from, Brianna?” She had been busy scanning the papers and looked blankly at him for a minute. “He was my boyfriend.” “He’s dead.” Jeffrey didn’t believe in mincing words. “Why ask, then?”

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“Because of the papers you’re holding in your hands. They give the statistics for all the murders in this city. As you can see, they’re climbing alarmingly. Most of the crimes are pretty gruesome. In fact, if you’re paying attention to details, most are horribly gruesome and are either the work of mutants or copycat killers.” “I noticed.” Brianna put the papers down and leaned back on the couch. She was facing Jack, so he could see her expression. It was strained. “I also see that there are quite a few registered mutants on the list. Do you know if they had criminal records or not?” “Some of them did, yes.” Jeffrey leaned back too. He was sitting in the wing chair with his back to Jack, so his expression was hidden. “Mutants are required to register; you know that. As soon as one is born in the hospital, the baby is put on a list. That list is growing longer every year. But we think some mutants are not born. They are made.” Brianna’s eyes never wavered. She stared at Jeffrey. “So you’re saying that maybe the Heart Taker made another mutant like himself. But on the list, I don’t see any mention of murder victims with their hearts torn out that weren’t attributed to the Heart Taker. Those murders have all been accounted for.” Jeffrey rubbed his temples with both hands. “I know. I’m not assuming anything. It’s just a hunch. A niggling little voice in my head that tells me that there’s something about the Heart Taker we’ve missed. Something important. Since it all started with your boyfriend, and now you show up with his prints as pristine as if he’d just done them this morning…I just wondered, that’s all.” “I know. You’re a good cop, Jeffrey. You put things together and get the right answers. But this time it’s just me being paranoid. I’m sure the Heart Taker was at the casino yesterday.” “I’m still talking about the prints.” Brianna shrugged. “The prints are old. I took them last year when we started to go out, and I had them in my drawer. I’d just forgotten whose they were. My boyfriend is dead and buried.” Jeffrey leaned forward. “Well, not exactly,” he said. Jack felt his head spin. A premonition of danger swept over him. He felt a chill run up his arm. Then he looked over and saw Sally was leaning against him, her head resting on his shoulder. “What do you mean?” Brianna’s composure slipped, and her voice cracked. Jeffrey leaned even farther and took her hands in his. “We don’t know what happened. Some joker dug up his grave and stole his body.” He gave a shudder. “A year-old stiff. It must have been ghastly.” “Has this…has this happened before?” Brianna pulled her hands free and crossed her arms over her chest.

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“A few times. Usually to famous people, famous murder victims like your Jack Severn, or even famous murderers. Most graves are empty now, their contents moved to other sites so that they can rest in peace.” “Oh, God.” Brianna stood up and started to pace. “I’m not going to think about it. Can we change the subject? My client will be glad to see the statistics. He’s been saying that mutants have been multiplying at a frightening rate.” Jack turned to Sally and raised his eyebrows. She nodded. Her hand on his arm felt like a block of ice. “Your client is right. But what we don’t want is people to panic and start blind vendettas. Most mutants are registered and live quiet, unassuming lives. The law protects them as well as normal humans.” Jeffrey stood up and stretched. “I have to get going. My wife will wonder where I am.” “How is she doing?” “Fine.” Jeffrey said, but Jack detected a strange note in his voice. Brianna stood up too, and Jack noticed she stayed away from Jeffrey. She went to the front door and held it open. “Thanks for coming over. I’m glad you believed me about the Heart Taker.” “We’ll have extra agents at the casino, but as you know, there’s not much we can do. I called the manager and suggested he close until after Halloween. He didn’t agree. It seems he weighed a murder against the profits the casino rakes in every night and decided the profits were worth more than a human life.” He sounded disgusted. “I’m sorry. It must be frustrating working with people like that. But at least you tried.” “Yeah. Well, I’ll be glad when this season is over.” He paused in the doorway. “Take care of yourself. Be extra careful for a while. At least until after Halloween.” Brianna patted his shoulder. “Trick or treat,” she said lightly, but her eyes were somber. When the door closed, Jack came out of his hiding place. “What was that about his wife?” “She’s got a wasting sickness, something to do with her heart. She’s in a wheelchair.” Brianna sighed. “It’s very sad, because they married late and both wanted children desperately. When she didn’t get pregnant, they had tests run and found out Wendy was ill.” “Wendy’s his wife?” “Yeah.” Brianna looked unhappy, so Jack asked, “What is it?” “I just feel so guilty every time I see him.” She started pacing. “I didn’t know she was sick. I thought she was just one of those high-maintenance wives, you know, the kind of woman who can’t screw a lightbulb in by themselves. I can’t stand women like that. You can understand that, can’t you?”

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Jack nodded. He could imagine how much a woman like Brianna -- independent and useful -- would despise that kind of person. She stopped pacing and looked at him, her expression tragic. “I tried to take him away from her. I tried to seduce him one night. I got drunk. I took him home with me, telling him I couldn’t drive, and I tried to get him to make love to me.” Her cheeks were scarlet, and suddenly Jack understood why she’d kept so much space between her and Jeffrey at all times. “Hey, don’t feel bad. He’s a guy. That means he was flattered. You didn’t know about his wife being sick. I’m sure he doesn’t hold it against you.” She pulled a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose. Her face was still bright. Jack loved how her pale skin showed her emotions. “He never held it against me. He behaved like the perfect gentleman he is. I was the one too embarrassed to continue working with him.” “When did this happen?” “Just before I met you. I quit the force. I was determined to forget Jeffrey, and I was busy interviewing at agencies that needed bodyguards.” “Well, it’s all in the past now.” Jack gave her a hug, surprised at the pang of jealousy he suddenly felt. “I’m sure I have things I’m glad I forgot about in my past.” She looked at him. “Things you’re glad you don’t remember?” He grinned. “That’s right. Why don’t you show me how to use the cuffs now?” At Jack’s urging, Brianna gave him her handcuffs. She showed him how to use them, and insisted he handcuff her several times and in several different positions. Afterward she made him do it while she struggled. When she started to try to escape, time suddenly slowed. Her movements became as slow as if they were encased in amber. He easily caught both her wrists in the handcuffs. As soon as he snapped them on, time fell back into place, and Brianna lay on the floor, staring at him. “What?” he asked. “Didn’t I tell you I could move fast now?” Her face was very white. “I didn’t realize…it was so sudden. I couldn’t even see you anymore. All I felt was a strange vibration when you touched me. As if you were an electrical current instead of flesh and blood.” “No blood anymore.” He stroked her cheek. “I’m sorry I frightened you. Are you all right?” She licked her lips and nodded. “I think so.” He uncuffed her and helped her to her feet. She managed a faint smile. “Don’t move too fast during your striptease, or the ladies in the audience will be disappointed.” She looked at him for a minute and then kissed him. He kissed her back, and she slid onto his lap, her arms wrapping around his neck, hanging onto him like a drowning victim. Jack groaned and pushed Brianna away from him, using all his strength. “Don’t tempt me,” he said harshly.

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“Please?” she said, unbuttoning her pants and sliding them to the ground. Smiling, she took off her shirt. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Well, I’m naked.” She pushed him back onto the couch. “Just don’t use any of your super speed on me, all right?” Kneeling, she undid the buttons of his shirt, pausing after each one, and then pushed it off his shoulders. For a minute all she did was run her hands over his chest. He let her unbutton his trousers. She straddled him. “I have you at my mercy,” she said with a grin. “You do indeed,” he gasped as she eased his pants and boxer shorts over his hips. He couldn’t conceal his desire. His cock reared up out of a dark tangle of soft curls. Brianna caught her breath when she saw it, and her eyes widened. “Don’t stop now,” Jack breathed. “I won’t.” She cupped her hands around his balls and stroked them. Putting his cock in her mouth she sucked, softly at first, and then harder. “Wait a minute.” He didn’t want to come so soon. He pulled her to him, until her thighs were inches from his face. Spreading her legs with his hands, he pressed his mouth to her sex. She gasped as his tongue darted into her, plunging deep. His fingers spread her tender flesh apart, and he licked her, twirling his tongue around until he found her hard clit. Her hips thrust toward his face. He slid his fingers into her, first one, then another. His tongue never stopped, and her flesh swelled and grew wetter. “Jack!” she cried. He pulled Brianna down on top of him, pressing his body the whole length of hers. She ran her hands over his taut stomach, tracing the soft swirl of black curls down from his navel. When she reached his cock, she sat up, straddled him, and slid slowly onto him. It had been too long. She was so tight and hot that Jack thought he’d lose control. She rose up and eased back down, and his cock slid into her. She grinned at him wickedly, stopped, pulled up, and slid down again. Once, twice, three times. He felt her press down hard, so that he entered her fully. For a minute she knelt without moving, and he felt her pulse beat through his cock. He closed his eyes, suddenly missing his humanity. “Jack, look at me,” she ordered. He did. She leaned down to kiss him. He grasped her breasts and rubbed his palms against her nipples, loving the way they hardened. With his thumb and his forefinger, he pinched her nipples. Gasping, she lifted up and slid down his shaft again, harder and harder. A storm seemed to build in the room as they grappled together. Jack arched his back, and Brianna rode him like a wild horse, bucking against him, driving him as deeply as she could into her body. She cried out as his cock slammed against her womb.

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Slowly at first, then faster and faster, Jack thrust his hips. Brianna reared up and slid her pelvis back and forth as fast as she could on the brink of another orgasm. She was so slick and so wet, she slid right off his cock. Jack grabbed her buttocks and pulled her back down on to him. His whole body pulsed with pleasure. Uttering a strangled cry, he arched into her, hands clenched on her hips, jerking against her, and he spurted into her. She responded with a cry of her own, her body trembling, pressing against his. He held her tightly until it was over. “First dibs on the shower,” she said, her voice rough. “I have to eat something before I stand up,” he said, feeling fuzzy. Brianna brought him a piece of hard cheese and a glass of apple juice, before going to take her shower. After he ate, Jack felt better. He washed up and dressed. Brianna was in her bedroom humming, looking in her drawers for something. “How about this for tonight?” She pulled a pink, frothy dress from the back of her closet and held it up for his inspection. “Um, very nice.” It looked like a giant wad of cotton candy, but Jack didn’t think she’d want to hear that. He sighed. He had to tell her his suspicion, no matter how wild it sounded. He took her wrists and sat her down on the bed. “The Heart Taker looked a lot like Jeffrey.” Brianna’s face turned white, then scarlet. “That is impossible.” “I’m just telling you what I saw.” Jack felt like a cad. Brianna’s face was a mask of horror. “Jeffrey?” She got to her feet and went to stand by the window, her arms wrapped tightly across her chest. “It doesn’t make sense. All right, I did call him last night, and this morning I found the note…but why would Jeffrey kill anyone? He’s one of the nicest people I know!” “His wife is very ill. Maybe that changed him. You said her sickness was in her heart. Do you think that sort of thing could push someone over the edge?” “No, I don’t think anything could make Jeffrey go over the edge. I’ve never seen him lose his temper, not once. Not even when he caught me pulling off the perp’s pants,” she sputtered. “Is there any way we can check the mutant directory? When did Jeffrey’s wife get sick, and when did the Heart Taker start to kill?” Brianna stomped over to him, and her palms shoved hard against his chest, pushing him onto the bed. “Jeffrey is not the Heart Taker. So stop saying he might be. You didn’t get a good look at him. There are tons of guys around here who look Native American. We have a whole reservation just full of them. If I heard the Heart Taker at the casino, chances are he’s Native American. All right? Forget Jeffrey.” She sat down next to him on the bed. “Listen, I just think it’s a strange coincidence, that’s all.” She glared at him. “Drop it.”

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“All right. I’ll drop it.” He let a few seconds go by. “Can we check the mutant directory? There must be mention of someone with super speed. If the Heart Taker’s parents noticed, they would have registered him, right?” “We looked and looked. No one registered anyone with super speed.” She smoothed the covers on her bed. “It’s been one dead end after another, according to Jeffrey. I kept asking him, you know. I wanted him caught more than anything after he killed you, and you better believe I want him caught now he’s written me that crappy poem.” She shook her head. “Look, I’m sorry. I know I sound…obsessed, but Jim Ling-Li gave me a direct order, and I have to obey. It’s stronger than I am. Every lead, every hint, every idea I get has to be acted upon. I can’t describe the feeling I get, but it’s strong. I can’t resist it.” Brianna rubbed her eyes. “Yeah. I know a lot about obsessions.” She gave him a wry grin that faded quickly. “Forget about Jeffrey. Honest. He could never do anything like that. The Heart Taker is a monster, nothing but a monster. I should know. I was there.” “So was I.” Jack closed his eyes. “So was I.” Brianna hated what she was doing. She’d never snooped around in a friend’s affairs. But Jack’s words wouldn’t let her go. When he went to rehearsal at Dee’s club, she turned on the computer and started to search. It was easy getting into the police files. She’d kept all her passwords, and the police never changed any of them. Hacking into the mutant directory was easy too. She wasn’t a whiz with a computer, but she had worked with a couple of people who could make their computers practically roll over and beg. They’d showed her a few tricks. She logged into the directory and started scrolling. No Jeffrey Archer anywhere. Archer was his father’s name. What had his mother’s name been? A color, if she remembered correctly. She had a good memory for names. Black? No, White. Her name had been Mary White. Brianna searched for White, and found a long list with several Marys on it. One caught her eye. Mary White. Born 1952 in Greenville, Georgia. Mutant. The rest of the entry had been deleted. There was no mention of what sort of mutant she had been. She cross-checked the mutant files, but there was no other sign of a Mary White. Usually, there were references to the type of mutant a person was, like shape-shifter, werewolf, wall-walker, spider talker…she looked again. Spider talker? Ugh. Brianna went back and called up Jeffrey’s parents’ information. His mother, Mary White, had been born in 1952 in Georgia. It could be a coincidence. She hated coincidences. She’d been a police officer once, and she knew how to check facts. This was starting to look bad. Why would someone delete Jeffrey’s mother from the mutant files? Unless it had been done to protect someone. Someone in the police department. Jeffrey. Her hand hovered over the phone. Finally, she gave in and called a person she’d worked with ages ago. He didn’t remember her. That was all right. He was eager to show off

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his talents as a computer hacker. He told her he’d find the information she was looking for, and he’d call her back. She had to repeat her phone number eight times for him. He might be a computer whiz, but he was a complete idiot when it came to names and numbers. An hour later, he called back. He had found the information. “Brian Murphy?” he asked. “This is Brianna Henley.” “Oh, yeah. The dame with the mutant problem.” Brianna made a face. The geek talked like someone from an old gangster movie. “Yeah.” She could play along. “I got the information you wanted. Mary White. She was a mutant, for sure, but everything about her has been wiped clean. No records at all. Except one. I found something mentioned in one of her school reports. She got kicked off the track team because she ran too fast.” “What?” Brianna nearly dropped her phone. “Yeah. Stupid reason for kicking someone off a track team, isn’t it? I mean, if she was so fast, why call it cheating? It says here she cheated,” he added, and Brianna heard his fingers running over his keyboard like a tap-dancing mouse. “Cheated in races. Running too fast. Mary White was kicked off the track team from her all-girls school in Georgia. No other mention of her at all anywhere.” The tap dancing stopped. Brianna heard a long slurp, as if he drank something thick from a straw. “Thanks, Mike. I owe you one.” “You’re welcome, Brian.” Slurp, slurp. Brianna replaced the phone and stared for a while out the window. Why had Jeffrey’s mother’s files been removed? Was mutant speed hereditary? What if Jeffrey was the Heart Taker? Was that why every lead fizzled into nothing? Her investigation was interrupted by Jack coming back up the stairs with Mémé Hoya. She had gone out shopping. Jack had met her at the bottom of the stairs and was carrying her groceries up for her. Brianna didn’t want to tell Jack about Jeffrey’s mother until she’d spoken to Jeffrey. Besides, tonight was Jack’s debut at Dee’s club. He must be feeling nervous. She imagined his stomach was knotted up with stage fright, and maybe he was exhausted after their lovemaking. Thinking about that made her cheeks burn. He bounced into the apartment, his arms full of groceries. “Where is your costume? Why aren’t you dressed? We have to hurry! You’re going to miss my show!” All right. So he wasn’t sick with stage fright.

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Chapter Fourteen Hearts are Wild Jack, Brianna, and Mémé Hoya arrived at the club. It looked terrific. Everything was all set to go. The sun dipped suddenly behind the buildings, casting the club’s entrance in shadow. Dee had decided to light the candles in the jack-o’-lanterns he’d made that afternoon. Ten jack-o’-lanterns decorated the entranceway, and Arnaud, the bouncer/doorman, dressed as the grim reaper, stood at the entrance. Jack looked in through the plateglass door. He could see straight into the bar where Suki was disguised as a werewolf, and his assistant, the lovely Ann, was wearing a Little Red Riding Hood outfit. Suki’s dreadlocks looked a bit out of place. The waitresses wore French-maid uniforms and had glow-in-the-dark devil’s horns perched on their heads. Dee had his vampire costume on. A fancy black silk suit, fangs in his mouth, and white makeup slathered on his face. His long, blond hair was tied back with a black velvet ribbon. Jack looked at the stage. It was set up with a red velvet curtain; jack-o’-lanterns with electric light-bulbs in them circled the edge, and he sighed. It looked fabulous. So why did a feeling of pure dread invade him? He felt sick. Dee depended on him. What if the club failed? What if no one came? What if Dee had to close because Jack’s arm fell off, and someone died of a heart attack? What if… No! Stop it, Jack! He couldn’t bear to think of the what-ifs. “Everything looks great.” Brianna held onto his arm and gazed at the club. “I’m getting a case of the willies, though. Last time I was here on Halloween, it was with you, and look what happened.” Her voice trembled, and Jack could hear sorrow in it. “You don’t think I’m not thinking about that too?” Jack’s stomach clenched, and a sudden headache assailed him. He put his hand on his forehead. No fever. He looked at his

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watch. Nearly eight-thirty. The doors would open in half an hour. He glanced at the door again. The grim reaper stood solemnly under the awning, his arms crossed, and the large iron sickle in his hand gleamed in the flickering light of the jack-o’-lanterns. Several people had stopped to gawk. Others were starting to line up behind the velvet ropes strung between the two brass poles holding the awning up. A taxi stopped, and more people got out, dressed in Halloween costumes -- a devil, a ghoul, and a belly dancer. Laughing and chattering, they got in line. “Let’s go inside,” said Mémé Hoya. “Dee will be getting nervous.” They went around to the back door. Jack saw Dee and waved to him. He turned and held the door open for Brianna, who went in looking peaked, with dark circles under her eyes. She had on a fairy princess costume that involved a long, pink skirt of tulle, which still reminded Jack of cotton candy. A pink satin jacket lay over her lacy camisole, a crown sat on her head, and a scepter made of gold plastic and glitter was in her hand. Mémé Hoya was last. She had dressed in her usual outfit, as a fortune-teller with hoop earrings; a scarf on her head; several multicolored, layered skirts; and a purple vest over a large, white chemise. She clutched a box of lemon drops in one hand, and a squashy purse made of patchwork velvet in the other. “We came early,” said Brianna to Dee, holding her crown on her head. It was plastic, covered with huge purple gems, and kept slipping off. “Jack said he had to be here before nine.” “It’s fine -- it will make the club look busier,” said Dee. “Why don’t you go sit near the stage? That way you’ll have a good view of the show.” “We don’t want to take the best seats,” said Mémé Hoya. “You’ve done a great job decorating. It looks very nice.” “Can I show you two charming ladies around?” Dee asked. Mémé Hoya beamed at him. “Oh, that would be so nice.” She latched onto his arm. “I’ve always had a thing about blond vampires.” “Me too.” Dee gave her a wink. “Would you like something to drink?” “I’m fine. I love the Big Bad Wolf behind the bar, and the little devils are cute.” Mémé Hoya waved at the waitresses, and Dee introduced her. As Jack trailed behind them, Dee showed Mémé Hoya and Brianna the stage decorations, the hanging pumpkins in the billiard room, the bouquet of flowers someone had sent him for the grand opening that he’d put in his office. By the time they came back toward the front door, there was a long line of people waiting to get in. “See? There’s nothing to worry about.” Mémé Hoya patted Dee’s arm. “And Jack, I bet you’ll be a hit. Stop worrying. Here, have a lemon drop.” Jack managed a real smile, but he wasn’t in a cheerful mood. He’d been worried about his bout of lovemaking with Brianna -- did she really love him, or was she just scared and

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needed reassurance? And he fretted about the resemblance Jeffrey Archer had to the Heart Taker. About the Heart Taker marking Brianna as his next victim. What would happen if his arm fell off during the show? Each worry was like a sharp little knife twisting in his gut. No wonder he felt drained, and a headache pounded his skull. “I’m off to be the host now,” Dee said. “I want you to have a good time. I’ll tell Suki and Ann that your drinks are on me.” “Where’s the ladies’ room?” Mémé Hoya asked. Dee pointed, and off she went to powder her nose. Jack took Brianna to a table near the back door and seated her. “I’m going to see if I can get some aspirin for my headache.” He went into Dee’s office where he found a bottle of aspirin. He washed three down with a glass of water and grimaced at the taste. “It’s time to get ready now, Jack.” Dee popped his head into the office. “I’m opening the doors in five minutes, and your show starts in less than an hour.” “Don’t worry; I’ll be ready.” Jack checked his reflection in the mirror. A bit pale, but that was normal. He took a deep breath. Ready or not, here I come, he thought.

***** People arrived in droves. After the place filled up, Dee stopped looking so nervous and started smiling. Suki and Ann poured drinks nonstop, the waitresses dipped in and out of the crowd, trays expertly balanced, and the music filled the place with rhythm. People gyrated on the dance floor. The billiard room filled up as well, and whenever there was a slight lull in the music, the clicking noise of balls and cues could be heard. Brianna was impressed. The club was so different from the way it had been the year before that she could almost forget where she was. The thought of the Heart Taker didn’t leave her mind, but she could push him to the background and enjoy herself by looking at all the different costumes. “Where’s Jack?” asked Mémé Hoya, settling herself in her chair and setting her bag on the table. “He went looking for some aspirin,” said Brianna. “Aspirin?” Mémé Hoya shot to her feet. “Why?” “Aspirin and zombies don’t mix.” Brianna felt a zing of fear. “Is it dangerous?” “Oh, no. Not at all.” Mémé Hoya sat back down and patted Brianna’s hand. “It’s too late to worry about it now. So don’t worry.” She looked worried, though. Brianna frowned and took the zombie handbook from her handbag. Jack had asked her to carry it for him. She flipped through the index until she came to Aspirin and read the

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entry. A minute later she put the book back in her purse. Her heart was pounding, and she thought she might get sick. “Please, God, or whoever is up there watching over the undead, don’t let him find aspirin,” she whispered fervently. A drumroll started, and Marty hit the lights on the stage. The red velvet curtain was illuminated, and Dee went up and faced the audience. There were five rows of bistro tables and chairs in front of the stage, and next to that was the dance floor, packed, with standing room only. A sea of faces and masks stared back at him. “Ladies and gentlemen and creatures of the night, welcome to my Halloween show!” Applause. Dee waited until it died down. “Tonight we have a special show for you. Without further ado -- Jack the Stripper!” The music started, the curtains parted, and Dee stepped off the stage, moving to the side of the dance floor to watch the show. Brianna saw him sandwiched between a wood sprite wearing a leafy, green minidress and a crown of ivy, and a woman wearing what looked like an antique wedding dress of ivory silk and a top hat. All of Brianna’s attention suddenly became fixed on Jack as he appeared onstage. He wore a pumpkin mask, and his tattered monster outfit drew a collective gasp from the audience. He started to dance. Whipping off the mask, he stood for a minute, gazing out over the audience. His eyes were supernaturally bright, his hair tousled, his skin glowing. He looked like a movie star, and the women went wild. Brianna could hardly breathe. Jack was more than hot. He was scorching. The women were crazy about him; they screamed his name and applauded madly. Jack strutted to the center of the stage in time to the music and bared his chest. The scar drew shrill screams and more applause. When Jack danced, Brianna could swear she heard women swooning all around him. A woman dressed as a vampire stood next to her table. She sank down into the chair by Brianna and gave a low moan. “He is sooooo amazing,” she breathed. “I want him.” Brianna was torn between pride, jealousy, and worry. Would his arm stay put? Had he taken the aspirin? Would he be all right? “Careful, Jack,” she muttered. Jack’s shirt came off, and his arm stayed on. Brianna sagged in relief. More screams and swoons. He danced, and even the men stopped playing billiards and came to watch, cue sticks in hands. Jack’s pants slithered down his hips. He lowered his chin and stared at the audience. They stared back, mouths open, eyes wide, pupils dilated. He stepped out of his pants, and the music stopped. The lights were killed, and the curtain fell. The crowd went crazy. The applause nearly cracked the plaster on the ceiling. Brianna could feel the floor shaking beneath her feet. Whoa. She turned to the vampire lady sitting next to her. “How’d you like that?” She looked at Brianna. “Please tell me he’s coming back,” vampire lady whimpered.

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“If not, I’ll go drag him back myself,” said another spectator standing nearby, her hands on her throat. The music started again, the lights dimmed, and a spotlight appeared as the curtain lifted again. Jack stood in the middle of the spotlight, dressed in his second outfit. The music, “Superstition,” pounded through the speakers. Jack opened his vampire cape and swirled it around. Grinning at the audience, he bared fake fangs. More screams and applause from the women. He tossed the cloak to the ground and took off his shirt. “Slower, Jack, slow down,” murmured Brianna. Jack looked like he was enjoying himself immensely. He danced, he peeled off his clothes, and strutted about in his G-string as the women shrieked and squealed and tossed money onto the stage. Teasingly, Jack slowly took off his G-string. Brianna groaned and tried not to stare. A flood of heat dampened her panties. She hated that everyone else was staring at Jack. The women uttered a collective gasp of appreciation, ending in a thunder of applause, whistles, and more screams. The music stopped, but Marty was on the ball and put on another song. “Black Velvet” started, and Jack began to dance slowly. A flurry of applause and high-pitched sighs and cries sounded from the audience. Jack seemed to have no qualms at all about exhibiting his body -- and why should he? From his well-shaped head down to his perfect Greek-statue feet, he was gorgeous. Brianna felt a pang of jealousy. She watched Jack’s show with growing dismay and had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming, “He’s mine!” It was ridiculous, but that’s what she wanted to do. He was incredible. Every woman in the place was mesmerized. Jack’s muscles looked sculpted beneath his smooth, white skin. Except for the scar, he was flawless. And his eyes. No one should have such electric blue eyes. But there was something odd about those eyes. Brianna froze. Something very odd. Jack came to the front of the stage and winked at a woman sitting in the front row. She gazed up at him, entranced. Jack leaned over and said in a husky voice, “Can I dangle my dingle in your daiquiri?” “What?” the woman squawked. “I said, can I dangle my dingle in your daiquiri, darling?” Jack swayed his hips forward suggestively. Brianna cringed. This could not be in the script. She turned to look at Mémé Hoya. She had her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. “What is he doing?” Brianna hissed. “He took an aspirin.” Mémé Hoya shook her head, her expression tragic. Dee let go of the wood sprite, who looked considerably less impressed with Jack’s act, and sprinted to their table. “What is going on?” he hissed. Brianna looked at him, her expression tragic. “I’m sure Jack didn’t know aspirin would do that to a zombie,” she whispered.

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“Aspirin? What aspirin? What did it do?” Mémé Hoya cleared her throat. “Jack had a headache. It was mostly nerves. He took an aspirin.” “What?” Dee looked back at the stage where Jack was swaying his hips, making his cock twirl in circles. “A penis colada, anyone?” he cried. The crowd seemed torn between hilarity and shock. Dee choked and turned back to Mémé Hoya. “Do something,” he begged. “It won’t last long, only a few minutes,” Mémé Hoya said. “I checked his zombie handbook and found this,” Brianna said miserably. She pointed to a paragraph, but Dee was obviously too upset to take the time to read it. “What is he doing now?” he cried. Jack spun in a circle, flung his arm out, and to Brianna’s horror, it flew off and sailed across the room. This time the screams were not from thrills. “Oh, no,” Dee gasped. Brianna opened her mouth to scream as well -- when Jack seemed to waver. His arm reappeared on his shoulder. The woman who’d been in its trajectory stood up from her frightened crouch and looked around the room. “It’s gone!” she cried. “Ta-da!” Jack yelled, taking a bow. “Happy Halloween, everyone!” Dee waved frantically at Marty, who stood with his mouth hanging open, and Marty gave a start and killed the lights. There was a moment of silence, then thunderous applause, laughter, and cries of “Encore! Encore!” Dee took a deep breath and sank into the seat facing Brianna. “Let me see that book.” Hand shaking, she handed it to him.

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Chapter Fifteen Strange Places Jack remembered taking an aspirin. His head had been splitting. A mixture of stress, worries, and nerves, for sure. He’d gotten dressed and chatted with Marty a bit. He’d gone over his choreography. Dee had introduced him, and he’d done the first act with an atrocious headache. But the crowd had loved it. He’d been watching for signs of the Heart Taker and saw nothing. He started to relax, and his headache vanished. When Act II started, he’d put on his vampire cape and fangs and went onto the stage. From then on, things got fuzzy, until all of a sudden, he saw his arm flying away. A moment of panic froze him to the spot, as his errant appendage sailed into the air. He’d somehow spurred his super speed into action, retrieved his arm, and put it back on. He’d yelled “Ta-da!” and had the presence of mind to wish everyone a Happy Halloween just as the lights had gone out. Hopefully, they would think it was some sort of prank. How come his arm had fallen off? Would it happen again? Could he perform anymore? Would Dee ever forgive him? And Brianna…what must she think? He buried his face in his hands. Then he leaped to his feet. Brianna! He couldn’t leave her alone! He sped up again and was dressed and back in the club where everyone stood frozen. He rushed past Davinia, who was pouring beer into someone’s cup. The beer was frozen in time -- fascinating. He passed Dee, who was obviously going backstage to chew him out. Dee’s hair was flowing behind him. A woman had dropped her glass. He spotted it. It hung in the air, and the woman was just reaching for it, but would be too late. He plucked the glass out of the air, and it made a strange, twanging sound. Odd. Thoughtfully, he placed the glass on the table and made his way to Brianna and Mémé Hoya. He sat down, and time snapped back into its place.

*****

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Dee read the paragraph and sighed. “I’d better go talk to Jack.” Brianna watched him leave and toyed with her glass. Her feelings for Jack were suddenly a huge tangle. From a shy, academic type, he’d turned into a stagestruck stripper…star. She had to admit that he was terrific. Her sigh fogged the glass in her hand. Mémé Hoya raised her eyebrows. “He has quite an amazing body. Poor Jack. I wonder how many people saw his arm fall off.” “I don’t…Eeek!” Brianna screamed, and heads turned as Jack suddenly appeared out of nowhere. She clutched at her chest. “Don’t do that again, Jack.” “What happened to me?” he asked Mémé Hoya. “I felt like I was drunk, but I didn’t have a drop of alcohol. Dee’s going to fire me!” “It was the aspirin. It affects zombies in an unpredictable way.” Mémé Hoya patted his hand. “Don’t worry about it. You were a big hit.” “I wasn’t.” He sat down and put his face in his hands. Brianna wanted to comfort him when something caught her eye. A slim silhouette in black, wearing stiletto heels and a cat’s mask. “May?” She took off her mask as she arrived at the table. “Did I miss the show?” Jack looked relieved. “You didn’t miss much,” he said modestly. Brianna choked and cleared her throat. May, as usual, looked absolutely stunning. “What else is new?” May slid into Dee’s empty seat. Jack leaned over the table. “I have news for you. The Heart Taker was in Brianna’s apartment last night. He wrote her a poem, but he didn’t kill her.” May raised one eyebrow. “That’s interesting. Aren’t you the girl who can hear him?” May turned to Brianna. “Not exactly.” Brianna frowned. “It’s more like a…” May waved her hand impatiently. “If he’s marked you for his own, there is no time to lose. Jack, you have to come with me tonight.” “I have to protect Brianna,” he said, and Brianna felt a warm feeling wash over her. May’s next words destroyed her warm, fuzzy feeling. “What are you going to do, handcuff yourself to her?” May shook her head. “She’ll be safe in her apartment with the doors locked. He can’t pass through walls.” She looked from Brianna to Jack. “Come on. We don’t have very much time. It’s almost midnight on Halloween night. If he can’t kill Brianna, he’ll kill someone else.” Mémé Hoya spoke up. “She’s right. But I’m coming with you and Jack, May.” There was a pause, and finally, May nodded. Her expression was, as usual, inscrutable. “Hey, if you’re going, why can’t I go?” Brianna asked. “What’s all this about?” Dee came back to the table. He had to speak loudly, the volume of noise in the club was going up as the music cranked up and people started dancing.

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May looked pointedly at him, so Jack cleared his throat and said, “We have to get Brianna to a safe place. The Heart Taker has left her a poem. And May, Mémé Hoya, and I have to go on an errand. Somewhere,” he added, not sure what else to say. Dee gave Brianna a shocked look. “My office is a safe room here in the club. It was here when I bought it, and I left it as it was. If you want to stay here, you can.” She shook her head. “I’m not going to lock myself up in some closet and wait until the Heart Taker comes to get me. I feel safest with Jack. I’m coming with you.” “Where are you going?” Dee asked Jack. “I don’t know.” May tapped her long fingernails on the table. “Only Jack and Mémé Hoya can come with me. Jack because he’s a zombie, like me, and Mémé Hoya because she’s a spirit talker. But you two” -- she pointed at Dee and Brianna -- “will not be welcome.” Brianna felt all the warm fuzzies dissolve, to be replaced with the urge to take May’s perfectly made-up face and shove it into the nearest wall. “I’d like to see you try to stop me,” she snarled. Jack took her hand. “Brianna, can I talk to you alone, in Dee’s office?” He didn’t give her time to reply, but pulled her to her feet and dragged her across the club. Halfway across the dance floor, she managed to dig her heels in and stop. “No, I won’t go. You’re going to try to reason with me, and I don’t want to be reasonable,” she shouted. “Please, Bree.” “No. And don’t call me Bree! I’m not a cheese!” She felt like crying. Damn him. “Come on. Just a talk.” She pushed her lower lip out. He wasn’t going to get her into that office without a fight. At that moment, a group of women saw Jack and surrounded them, and Brianna suddenly found herself the object of a collective stare of envy and downright dislike. “I just wanted to say you were incredible,” said a woman wearing little more than a green bra and shorts, with several lengths of ivy twined around her arms and neck. When she rubbed up against Jack and cooed at him, Brianna wanted to take the ivy and pull it tight around the woman’s neck. Another woman, in a black witch’s dress, complete with pointy hat and broomstick, muscled her way to Jack and gave him her card. Several other cards followed. Jack let go of Brianna’s arm and signed an autograph, then another. More women pushed toward them. Brianna felt very out of place amid the sexy or scary costumes. She looked down at her pink taffeta dress and wondered what had possessed her. She hadn’t had the heart to really dress up, and she’d just grabbed her old prom dress, a plastic play crown, a scepter, and a

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stiff, tulle overskirt to fluff everything up. She felt dowdy. A gorgeous creature in a leopard outfit slunk through the crowd and fastened herself to Jack’s arm. Brianna froze. Jack’s bad arm. He didn’t seem to notice. Biting her lip, Brianna took her scepter and goosed the leopard woman, who let go of Jack’s arm with a shriek. “So sorry,” said Brianna. She grabbed Jack’s good arm and pulled him away. “All right already. I’ll go to Dee’s office with you.” She thought she saw him grin, but decided she was mistaken. Men weren’t that tricky, she thought. When Jack closed the office door behind them, the noise ceased. The door was soundproof. “This is the safe room, Brianna. I want you to lock it behind me and only let Dee in.” “No.” Brianna sank down onto the orange couch and stared up at him. My God, he’s

gorgeous. And stupid. How could he think of leaving me all alone here? He nodded. “I’m sorry, Brianna.” She blinked and tears ran down her cheeks. “I lost you once.” “I know. I’m sorry about that too.” “I can’t bear to lose you again.” “You said you weren’t in love with me.” He brushed the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs. “And you listened?” she sniffed. “Shows how much you know about women.” “I thought you had a crush on Jeffrey.” She gave him what she hoped was a withering look, although it probably just came out watery. “He’s married.” “Yeah, well, I’m dead.” He looked suddenly lost, like a little boy. “There’s no future for us -- and none that I can see for myself, but I want you to have a future, Brianna.” She swallowed. There was a lump in her throat that made breathing difficult. And despite herself, even though she sternly told her hands not to do it, she touched his shoulders, sliding her hands around his neck and drawing him to her. Their mouths met hesitantly. Her lips were damp with tears and faintly salty. His were firm and tasted of beer and the lemon drops Mémé Hoya kept handing out. She pressed closer to him, and a low groan, born in his throat, escaped his lips. “Bree,” he whispered. “Don’t call me Bree.” She slipped her tongue into his mouth and teased him with it. She kissed his mouth, his chin, and ran her lips lightly down his throat, pressing a long kiss into the soft hollow there, where no pulse beat. Another tear escaped her eye, but she didn’t raise her head. She pushed his shirt open and kissed his collarbone, first one side, then the other. His scars were fading. She didn’t

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know how that could be, but she ran her fingers lightly across them, following the dark line of hair that snaked from above his navel down into his pants. She pulled her scratchy tulle skirt off and tugged at the taffeta dress. “Unbutton me,” she ordered. He took a shivery breath and obeyed. When her buttons were all undone, he pushed her dress off her shoulders, turned her around, and pulled her to him. “Why are you doing this?” “I don’t want you to go with May. I want you to stay with me.” That was the truth. Her eyes squeezed shut. She felt the soft couch beneath her, and part of the stiff, tulle skirt. Her scepter dug into her back. Jack lay on her, his bare skin so cool to the touch and smoother than skin had a right to be. She ran her hands down his back and sides. It felt like touching marble covered in satin. He kissed her and began to lick his way from her chin to her navel, pausing at each breast. He slid backward off her, kneeling on the floor, and coaxed her thighs open. His breath was cool on the insides of her thighs. She needed little coaxing. With a sigh she opened herself to him, eyes still tightly closed, as he touched her sex first with his fingers and then his tongue. Her clit was so sensitive that his fingertips were too rough, but when his velvet tongue caressed it, Brianna arched her back, and a low cry tore from her throat. Bliss. It was sheer bliss.

When a man knows how to pleasure a woman, there is nothing like it, Brianna thought. Well, she tried to think. Her whole being was condensed into the fluttery nudging on her clit and the feel of his fingers sliding into her tight passage. Not too fast, not too slow…not too hard, oh, yes, yes… She sobbed, then grabbed at his head, and wrapped her fingers in his hair. “Yes!” she screamed. And when she thought she would explode any instant, when her sex felt as swollen and slick as an overripe mango, Jack raised himself on his elbows and thrust his cock into her. She felt the fireworks happen again…and again. Oh, my God. And again. His lips brushed against her temple. The faintest whisper came to her. “I’m sorry Brianna.” Then…nothing. She waited for his kiss. Eyes closed. His words finally sank in. Sorry? “Jack? What do you mean?” Nothing. Her eyes flew open. The room was still lit; the door was locked. A blanket covered her. And Jack had gone.

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Chapter Sixteen The Shores Costumed revelers flooded the streets. They moved in tightly knit groups, talking and laughing in loud voices. Jack, Mémé Hoya, and May didn’t attract more than passing glances from the people around them. Jack had on his regular jeans and a white shirt, but he’d taken his vampire cloak, and a woman in a bridal gown had pressed a top hat into his hand, so he wore that too. May moved quickly in her high heels, avoiding the crowd on the sidewalk by walking in the street. Mémé Hoya darted along right behind her, one hand brushing parked cars as if counting them. Jack didn’t move very quickly; in fact, he felt drained. What was Brianna going to think of him? Would she hate him for the rest of her life for leaving her alone? He had no idea what had come over her. One minute she was pushing him away, the next minute she was tearing her clothes off. He’d thought of several possibilities. She had been turned on by his stripping. By her own admission, she got hot when guys took their clothes off. Or maybe it had just been fright or nerves? She was going to kill him. Well, not really. He was already dead. And anyway, it was still early, so he’d have a long time to worry about it tonight. Mémé Hoya said he looked peaked and handed him a banana she took from her bag. “Eat this, I brought it for you.” Touched by her solicitude, he devoured the banana and felt marginally better. At least his headache had gone. He started to think about Brianna again, but stopped himself. He would have time later to explore his thoughts and emotions. Now, he had to concentrate on what May wanted to show them. She kept saying it was important. A zombie without a heart should have no trouble staying focused, Jack thought. But each step he took away from Brianna was torture.

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“Where are we going?” he asked May as they came to a busy intersection and turned down a narrow street with hardly any traffic. There were fewer people around, and most of the streetlights seemed to be broken. At the end of the street, they turned into a dark alleyway. May pointed to a small sign high on the brick wall. “Here we are. Remember this place, Jack. It’s called Cheery Alley. The place we’re going to is called The Shores, and it’s a sort of bar.” She stopped and looked at Mémé Hoya. “You know where we’re going, don’t you?” “I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been there before,” Mémé Hoya said. Jack didn’t think the alley had any cheer at all to it. Garbage was strewn along the ground, and a cat uttered a mournful yowl from somewhere ahead. “It’s right here.” May pointed to a turquoise door set in a brick wall. She knocked once and waited. The door opened, and Jack couldn’t stop a gasp. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen stood in the doorway. She had skin the exact shade of dark chocolate, and her face was perfect in its symmetry. Her shoulder-length hair was braided with pale blue and sea green glass beads, and she wore a silver choker around her long neck. Her eyes were enthralling -- like dark honey -- and Jack saw she carried a white cane and stared straight ahead of her. She was blind! “Three tickets,” said May. “Hello, May.” The woman’s voice did not sound particularly friendly. A man appeared behind her. He was a giant of a man, with vivid blue tattoos in the shapes of snakes and lizards on his pale arms. He wore a sleeveless T-shirt to show them off. “Who do we have here, Tasha?” he asked the woman in the doorway. “You know May. And there is another zombie with her. Two undead. And a spirit talker.” The man took two red tickets and a blue ticket from his belt and handed them to Tasha. “If you want them to enter, you can give them these,” he said. Jack thought they were being a bit dramatic, but he couldn’t help being impressed by Tasha. Was she really blind, or was it an act? Hard to tell. She handed the tickets to May and stepped aside with a slight bow. May nodded back and strode into the club. Jack and Mémé Hoya, after a glance at each other, followed. The bouncer was even bigger than Jack had thought. The top of his head barely reached the man’s clavicle. For a minute they stood in the crowded vestibule. “Right in front of you, Jack. Go on,” May said. Jack stopped staring at the man’s tattoos and noticed a flight of narrow stone steps leading down in a tight spiral. Carefully, he descended the staircase and arrived at another door. This one had just a slot in it, and May pushed the tickets into the slot. After a second, the door swung open to reveal a woman in the doorway. She had hip-length platinum blonde hair and icy blue eyes. She smiled and showed sharp fangs.

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“Welcome to The Shores.” Her eyes suddenly flashed a deep ruby red. The music was soft, the lights dim, and shadowy figures sat in booths along the wall. In the middle of the room was the dance floor, and it was empty. There were a few people at the bar. People? Jack wasn’t so sure. He looked at Mémé Hoya. She gazed around, an interested look on her face. “So, this is where they go,” she said. “Shall we sit down?” Jack asked, pointing to an empty booth. “Not there,” said Mémé Hoya. “There are some spirits sitting in that booth.” Jack looked closer and noticed some faint shadows. “Have you ever been here before?” he asked Mémé. Mémé Hoya shook her head. “Sally told me about this place, that’s how I knew about it.” She turned to May. “Can you see ghosts?” “All undead can see them, though some ghosts are more clear than others, and some undead see ghosts better than others.” She shrugged. “There’s an empty table over in that corner.” As they passed the bar Jack saw several spirits, and the rest were…Jack looked carefully, trying not to stare. “Are they all mutants?” he asked. “Mutants, yes, but mainly the undead. This bar caters to an unusual clientele.” May waved to someone who waved back, and she nodded a greeting to the bartender, who gave her a grave smile. They sat, and Jack took his hat off and looked around at the décor. The booths were surrounded by nearly transparent gauze curtains. To take a seat, the curtains had to be moved aside. There were candles in the middle of the tables, and the wall sconces were very classy, like chandeliers. The bar had gray walls, a polished stone floor, dark brown wooden tables and chairs. There was nothing aggressive and no loud music. Soon Jack found himself relaxing into his comfortable chair. “I come here to unwind,” May said, “and I thought you would appreciate it.” “No humans except spirit talkers are allowed,” said Mémé Hoya. “That’s interesting. Why are spirit talkers invited in?” May shrugged. “Because the undead aren’t necessarily able to talk to ghosts. Some undead can’t even see them. Spirits sometimes need to tell things to humans, and that’s why spirit talkers are welcome here.” A waitress came over. She was a mutant, with bright green eyes and a feral smile. “What can I bring you?” she asked. She did a double take when she saw May, and Jack swore he saw her pupils narrow like a cat’s. Then she blinked, and her eyes went back to normal. “May. How nice to see you here.” May looked at her and smiled back. Jack was sure that if smiles were knives, both women would be dead on the floor.

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“I’ll have an iced tea with a side dish of candied ginger,” said May. “I’ll have a hot tea with lemon and a piece of pumpkin pie,” said Mémé Hoya. “And I’ll have a Virgin Mary and a BLT,” said Jack. When the waitress left, Mémé Hoya said, “She didn’t look too happy to see you, May.” “I killed her boyfriend.” May shrugged. “And you dare show your face here?” Jack asked. “He was a bad guy,” said May. “He killed. It’s against the laws of humans and of mutants too, in case you didn’t know.” “But there are human laws that can take care of killers. You shouldn’t take justice in your own hands.” May sighed. “It’s not like that. Soon you’ll understand what I mean.” The waitress came back and served them their drinks. May said, “Put this on my tab.” “Sure.” The waitress didn’t leave, though. She stood and looked at Jack. “Are you the one the Heart Taker killed?” “How do you know that?” Jack frowned, looked around, and noticed for the first time that everyone was staring at him. “He scares us,” was all she said. She turned and walked away. “Why is everyone looking at me?” “You’re a famous victim,” said May, and she sniffed. “You’ll see. In the undead community there is a rather strict hierarchy. The eldest usually command the most respect. You can guess that a thousand-year-old vampire mutant has got to be either wise and powerful or completely insane. In the insane case, I usually get called in.” “Called in?” Mémé Hoya put her tea down and looked at May. “When you’re finished, I want to take you to one more place. After, you’ll understand better. Next in the hierarchy are those killed by famous killers, like Jack the Ripper or Dracula.” Jack couldn’t tell if she was kidding or not. “Tell me more about the undead community. I didn’t know there was one.” “When you’re alive, you don’t know there is one,” said Mémé Hoya. “It’s not something we advertise, as you can imagine.” May looked at them. “And I’m welcome here?” Jack asked. “More than welcome. You’re a celebrity, like I said. If you’d stayed with my father, you’d have found all this out by now.” May was able to make an accusation sound like a laundry list. She didn’t sound as if she cared one way or another about anything.

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Jack wondered about that. Was she so cold? Or was she simply a master at hiding her feelings? His food came, and he ate, realizing he was famished. Afterward, he wiped the crumbs from his mouth and asked, “Is Halloween an important day for the undead?” May nibbled on a piece of ginger and looked pensive. “Not any more than the winter or summer solstice. For some, it is important, for others it’s the one time of year they can go out in public and not be stared at.” Mémé Hoya pushed her empty plate aside. “Why don’t you show us the other place now? The one you wanted to show Jack?” Jack offered to pay, but May shook her head. “It’s on my tab. Don’t worry, you can pay another time.” She stood up and waved to the bartender, who nodded in her direction. They left, but from another door in the back. “This is the exit door,” said May, pointing to the old, oaken door set with iron hinges. There were strange, swirling carvings in the wood. They stepped out into an alley. Jack looked around, and behind him was just a plain brick wall. “Where are we? This doesn’t look like downtown.” “It’s not. We’re near the trailer park on the east side of the city. The door lets us out in different places. No one knows how it works. It came from a castle in Europe.” May gave a shrug. “I suppose there’s some sort of spell on it. Chances are it’s a demon gate, but it’s tame enough now.” “I left my hat in The Shores,” said Jack. He turned around to go back into the door, but it had vanished. Only a brick wall remained. “Where did it go?” asked Jack, looking around. “It’s invisible from this side,” said May. Mémé Hoya muttered a curse, or maybe it was a prayer. “The Shores isn’t easy to find either.” “You’ll be able to find it again if you want to go there. But remember that humans are not welcome, no matter how close a friend. Even my father is not allowed to set foot inside.” Jack thought that calling a three-hundred-year-old necromancer human was stretching it, but he nodded. “Right. Got it. Now where to?” “Right up this street. That’s another thing about the back door of The Shores. It always lets you out near where you need to go. Somehow it just knows. You don’t have to say anything.” Jack and Mémé Hoya followed May to what looked like a warehouse. On the doorway were several signs proclaiming the warehouse off-limits to everyone except those wearing a hard hat. More signs said something about danger, poison, and chemical fertilizer, and a noxious odor came from a grate near the window. The windows, Jack noted, were covered with such thick dust and grime it was impossible to see inside the place. There was a chain link fence all around it. May lifted the latch on a gate in the fence, and they stepped through. A cracked and buckled cement walkway led to the front door. The door itself was just a

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nondescript, green metal door with a rusted handle, and a sign hung crookedly on it that said “KEEP OU” with the last letter faded and lost to time. May rapped on the door, and it creaked open. Jack could see nothing. It was dark inside. May turned back to Jack. “Come on, don’t be scared.” Jack stepped in, Mémé Hoya stepped in after him, and the door closed behind them. It was pitch black for a split second, and all at once, Jack was dazzled with bright light. “You’ll get used to it,” said May. She reached into her purse and took out a pair of sunglasses. “Follow me. We have to get you a visitor’s pass.” Jack’s first thought was that he’d somehow been spirited away to the airport. There was a bustle in the wide hallways, and a low, steady humming sound seemed to come from all over. Lights nearly blinded him. Everything was stark white and brilliant. He blinked, trying to make sense of the place. The entire inside of the warehouse was open and bathed in white neon. Glass on the walls gave the impression of more space and reflected the light. Steel girders overhead hummed with wires and tubes, and on the floor, brushed steel panels created hallways and offices that stretched for as far as Jack could see. “Where are we?” he whispered, shaking his head. “This is the mutant and undead branch of Interpol. We call it Mooby for its initials, MU-B-I.” May gave him a grin, and Jack thought it was perhaps the first real smile he’d seen on her face. She was suddenly vivacious. “There is a European branch, and here in this city is the American, north and south, branch. The FBI and the CIA are involved, as well as the local police. Everything from big to small departments are here in this building.” Jack noticed an elevator. “How many stories deep is it?” he asked. May’s smile grew even wider, if possible. “Fifteen. There are fifteen levels to this place. But we can only visit three of them. Right now, we’re going to the front desk to get you the passes and papers you’ll need to work here.” “Work here?” Jack thought things were getting away from him. “Yes. You have a mission, Jack. And you better make it official. Otherwise you’ll just be another dangerous undead according to the police. Go get a number. I’ll be right back.” She left, her heels clicking on the hard floor. The front desk was small, but there were about twenty benches in front of it. A ticket machine gave out numbers, and Jack took his. He sat on a bench next to Mémé Hoya and said, “Did you know about this?” She shook her head. “No. And to tell the truth, I’m a little leery about this. Being clandestine and having no papers has its drawbacks, you know.” She seemed nervous. Jack’s number was called, and he went to the desk where a man with white blond hair and eyes like an albino rabbit sat behind a green-tinted glass panel. “Jack Severn, born 1980, died 2005, reborn 2006. Here is your new passport. Keep it with you at all times. You are now officially registered with the city as a resident undead.

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The local police will probably show up one of these days to ask you a few questions. Please be polite, don’t show your fangs…” “I’m not a vampire,” Jack interrupted. The man looked up, his pink eyes startled. “Oh. Sorry. I was just reading from the paper here. We usually get vampires. You’re…um, what are you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He glanced at Jack’s passport, open to the front page. “A zombie. You’re only the third one we’ve registered since 1975. Right. Same maker too. Dr. Jim Ling-Li. Excellent. He does quality work. Now, where was I… Oh, yes. Please refrain from any obvious displays of supernatural strength or anything unusual that may frighten humans. You are required by law to keep us informed of your latest address and phone numbers. Fill out this form, and leave it in the box over there. Thank you, and have a good evening. Next?” A man dressed all in black, including long cape and top hat, swept by him. Jack was glad he’d left his top hat in The Shores when he heard the man behind the desk sigh loudly and say, “You don’t have to dress the part, Mr. Burgundy. Vampires should try to fit in. This isn’t Hollywood.” Depression settled over Jack’s shoulders like a wet, heavy blanket. He sat next to Mémé Hoya and looked at the form. So many questions. Most of them he couldn’t answer. “Bureaucracy does that to me too,” said Mémé Hoya. “What?” “It makes me sad. I don’t know why. I sit here and want to cry.” She nodded and took a lemon drop from her purse. “Here, this will make you feel better. Lemon is good for the soul. It brightens the spirit and clears the mind.” “Is that why you always have them, because they’re good for the spirit?” Jack took one and popped it in his mouth. Sweet and tart and deliciously sour. “No, I just like them.” She nodded toward May, striding their way. “That one is just the opposite. She blooms in this environment. Rules, regulations, forms in triplicate, and neverending bright lights and bustle. It brings her to life, doesn’t it? But you feel crushed, don’t you?” Mémé Hoya patted his hand. “You’ll get used to it.” “Why? I don’t want to work here!” “Listen to me, Jack. I feel this very strongly.” Mémé narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice. “You must accept this job. It’s important you do. I don’t know why, but I have a feeling you’ll do very well. I don’t believe you’ll have to work in this building.” “That’s good, because there is something about this place that scares me.” He stood as May arrived and handed her the forms. “I can’t fill these all out. They’ll just have to make do with what I’ve got.” “It will be perfect,” said May, and she put the papers in the box without even looking at them. “Come on. I want to introduce you to your new boss.” “You could have asked me first if I’d decided to take the job,” Jack said with a snarl.

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May flushed. “I apologize. I didn’t think. Are you going to accept it?” “Yes.” Jack found he couldn’t stay mad at her. She was so obviously in love with her work here that she probably thought he’d be thrilled too. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be ungrateful.” “No, I’m sorry. I keep forgetting that you’re new. Some people come back to life and think we owe them everything. They come in here demanding jobs, houses, money…they even come in and demand their old lives back. You didn’t want anything. That’s something I’ve never seen before, so I went out of my way to get you this job. It’s not easy getting work here. You may not feel privileged right now, but soon you’ll see what I mean.” Jack was half glad, half exasperated she’d gotten her haughty tone of voice back. But he was still feeling the strain of trying to assimilate all the things he’d seen and learned that night. Mémé Hoya looked as shell-shocked as he felt. “Right through this door,” said May, after they’d walked what seemed like a mile down an endless hallway. Jack walked in, bracing himself to meet another vampire, mutant, or whatever. He wasn’t prepared to see a human. And not just any human. “Jeffrey?” he asked, not trusting his eyes. Jeffrey stood up and gestured to the seats in front of the desk. “Yes, that’s right. Lowly detective by day, head of local mutant affairs here by night.” “Don’t you ever sleep?” Mémé Hoya sat down and opened her purse. “Would you like a lemon drop?” “Thanks, I’d love one. I split shifts both day and night,” he said, helping himself to a candy. “Care for some coffee or tea?” Jack lowered himself to a chair. “You don’t seem surprised to see me.” “I was surprised when I got your file. May might as well have dropped a bomb on my desk.” He looked at her and grinned wryly. “My best agent likes to try to kill me every once in a while.” “Keeps you on your toes,” said May. “So you’re back with Brianna.” It wasn’t a question. Jeffrey leaned over his desk, his arms crossed. “She knows everything, of course.” Another statement of fact. Jack nodded warily. Could Jeffrey be the Heart Taker? And work here? The one glimpse he’d gotten of the monster had looked an awful lot like the tall man in front of him. Both were tall and rangy, with dark hair cropped short, and strong, Native American features, but the resemblance stopped at the eyes. Jeffrey’s were mild, whereas the Heart Taker’s had been burning pits of black anger. Could eyes change with mood? Yes, but not that much. The more he saw of Jeffrey, the less he thought he looked like the Heart Taker. “What am I supposed to do, exactly?” Jack asked.

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Jeffrey raised his eyebrows. “We’re putting you in the division in charge of serial killers. We’re throwing you right into the deep end, but you’ll be with a good team. Your primary target is the Heart Taker, of course.” That gave him pause. It also dissolved any remaining doubt about Jeffrey. The real Heart Taker would not want him working anywhere near him. “I want Brianna working with me,” Jack said. There was no hesitation. “Done.” That was not good. Jack sat back in his chair. “How many serial killers are out there, and how many team members have you lost so far?” A spark of surprise glimmered in Jeffrey’s eyes, and May crowed, “I told you. He’s sharp. He’s very sharp.” “Sharp, indeed.” Jeffrey took a deep breath. “We’re not sure how many are out there, really. According to the files, there are five mutant serial killers ‘out there,’ plus one human killer, and the Heart Taker, who’s in a class of his own. So far we’ve lost five members of your division.” “What are we supposed to do?” “Legally, you’re now an official part of the MUCI or Moosie.” “Moosie? What’s that?” “Mutant Undead Criminal Investigation. Your division. This department is head of it. There are some who call it Mucky. I prefer Moosie.” Jack was confused. “What is Mooby, then?” “Mutant and Undead Branch of Interpol. Moosie is part of Mooby. Mooby is the whole international organization. Moosie is the local city police department, if you like. You’ll get used to it.” Jeffrey pulled a baseball cap from a drawer in his desk. It was lime green with the letters M, U, C, and I emblazoned on the front in lurid black and orange. A symbol that looked like a cat’s eye was embroidered on the back. “Here’s your cap. You don’t have to wear it,” he added, making a wry face. “It’s hideous, but the boys in the design department came directly from Area 51.” “You’ve got to be kidding,” Jack said faintly. He took the cap and held it gingerly. “You didn’t answer my question. What exactly do I do?” “I thought I’d give you a bit of history first. Are you sure you don’t want something to drink?” “I’ll have that tea now, if you don’t mind,” said Mémé Hoya. She stared at the baseball cap. “They paid people to design that?” “Make that two teas,” Jack said. May gave another bright smile and left, presumably to get the drinks, and Jeffrey leaned back in his chair. “We have fifteen floors almost identical to this one here. It’s a huge

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complex. What happened is we moved most of the offices and labs from Area 51 to here, and we also have a crime lab that we share with the police. Floors five on down are off-limits to everyone. I’ve never been beyond minus-five. You need special access to be able to go deeper.” “Will I get special access?” Jack asked. Jeffrey shrugged. “I don’t know. It depends. We’re police. Down there is FBI and the army. You probably won’t ever get access. May will take you to your office and introduce you to your team tomorrow. Right now I’m just supposed to brief you about where you can go in this building, what it’s all about, and how it all started.” Jack held his hand up. “I just want to know why you chose me.” “You should know the answer to that by now,” said Jeffrey, looking at him through lowered lashes. His face was somber. “To tell you the truth, Jack, you’re our only hope.” Jack knew he had to tell him. “I saw him, you know. The Heart Taker, I mean.” Jeffrey blinked. “No, I didn’t know.” Jack watched him carefully. “It happened yesterday, as we were walking near the docks. I saw him across the street.” He paused. “He looked a lot like you.” Jeffrey almost choked on the lemon drop. Mémé Hoya jumped up and pounded him on the back, but he coughed again and waved her away. “It’s all right. I’m fine. Thanks. The Heart Taker looks like me?” He still hadn’t gotten all his color back. He held up his hand. “Hold on.” He got a paper from his desk drawer and started to write. “Height, hair color, and eye color like me?” Jack studied him carefully, thinking of the person he’d seen on the street. “Older, I think. He’s older than you. But he’s got dark hair, cut very short, and dark eyes. They looked almost black. He looked Native American.” Jeffrey rubbed the tip of his finger into his forehead. “That narrows it down somewhat.” “Does it?” Mémé Hoya made a moue of disbelief. “We live on the edge of the largest Native American reservation in the country.” “But my ancestors come from the original tribe here.” Jeffrey nodded. “Most of the tribes have been displaced from their original homes and moved over here. The original people, the Ais, were probably here first. There aren’t many of us left. Despite what you might believe, all Native Americans don’t look the same. Only in movies do you get that. So if the Heart Taker looks almost exactly like me, it’s possible he’s an Ais.” “An A, as in A-B-C? Is that bad?” Jack was sorry for Jeffrey. If the tribe was small, he probably knew the man. “Ais, spelled A-i-s. The name Ais means ‘unknown.’ I don’t even know much about them. Being an Indian doesn’t mean what it used to. When I was a kid, it was nothing you

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wanted to talk about. My parents never mentioned it. They were embarrassed by their own heritage. Being the loser in history does that to you,” he added wryly. “Is there a list around with the names of the Ais tribe on it?” Jeffrey grimaced. “No, Jack, there isn’t a list with all the names on it. For one thing, most Ais aren’t pure-blooded anymore. And for another thing, they’re not mutants. At least, most of them aren’t.” The door opened, and May came in holding a tray with steaming mugs of fragrant tea. She handed one to Mémé Hoya and one to Jack. He took it and sipped it gratefully. The tea felt good. His nerves, never very good since he’d come back to life, were frayed again. He wanted to lie down in a deep bed with Brianna and just forget about all this. Jeffrey filled May in with Jack’s sighting and what the Heart Taker looked like. May’s eyebrows shot up when Jeffrey said Jack had thought he might be the Heart Taker, but she never interrupted or asked questions. When Jeffrey finished, Jack looked at the clock on the wall. Two a.m., way past the witching hour. “What time do you get off duty?” he asked Jeffrey. “Three hours ago. I asked May to bring you here, though.” He rubbed his face. “The Heart Taker will probably strike tonight. I called Brianna on her cell phone when I got your files from May, and after I got over the shock of finding out you were back,” he added. “I appreciate you talking her into staying at Dee’s club in the safe room.” Jack thought about Brianna sitting in the safe room, probably planning how to dismember him. He shrugged. “It’s normal. I want to protect her.” “So why do you want her working with you?” Jeffrey asked. Jack frowned. “Because I think she’ll be safer if she’s with me until we can catch the Heart Taker, and she was a police officer. She knows procedures, I don’t.” “She was a damn good officer,” said Jeffrey. He rubbed his face again, and Jack thought he looked exhausted. “I want her here tomorrow. It might be best if you tell her all about this place tonight. Here’s your kit. There’s a brochure that tells all about the Mutant and Undead branch of Interpol and about our department, Mutant and Undead Criminal Investigation, but you don’t have to read it all in one day. There’s also a badge, a wooden stake, a silver dagger, and a passcard to get in the front door.” Jeffrey handed Jack a lime green plastic bag with the letters “MUCI” stenciled on it in black. It was heavy, and when Jack peeked inside it he saw a card, a paperback book, a wooden stake, and a glittery silver dagger. “You weren’t kidding,” he said. “That brochure looks thick.” “Let me see?” Mémé Hoya peered into the bag. “Oh, my!” “I’m going home now to try and catch a few z’s. Can I drop you off at Dee’s club?” Jeffrey asked.

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Jack nodded, touched. “Yes, please. We’ll catch a cab from there. We’re all staying at Brianna’s place.” Jeffrey raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. They walked through the long hallways, and Jack was struck by how busy the place was. “It never stops here,” said May, as if reading his mind. “During the day there are more humans, and at night, as you can see, there are mostly undead and mutants.” “What’s my schedule?” Jack asked May. “Do I have to wear a costume, like you?” “You can wear whatever you want. There are no uniforms for our division. I just happen to like my costume.” May smoothed her hands over her slim hips. “I think you should keep your cape, Jack,” said Mémé Hoya. “I’m staying here. I have some papers to file. Good-bye, Jack, Mémé Hoya. I’ll see you soon.” May stopped in front of the elevators and waved good-bye before she turned and walked back down the hallway, her step light. Jack had to admit he felt better knowing May was part of an official police force, and not just acting on her own. Mémé Hoya must have had the same thought, because she said in a thoughtful voice, “I think I’ve misjudged that May. She’s a lot more than she pretends to be, isn’t she?” “She’s one of our best agents. The parking garage is on the minus-three level,” said Jeffrey as they got into the elevator. Everything inside was chrome or white tiles, and bright lights were everywhere. But when they left the building, it was like driving out through a construction site. “Amazing,” said Mémé Hoya. “You’d never know what was here.” “That’s the way the government likes it,” said Jeffrey. He put his blinkers on and turned into the main road leading into the center of town. “We’re hidden in plain sight.” “What I’d like to know is, why this city?” Jack asked. “There are far bigger cities in the country and bigger cities in the world. So why here?” “I’m not sure, but this place seems to be a sort of magnet for mutants and undead. We’re right in the middle of a paranormal Bermuda Triangle. Spirits have an easier time appearing here than anywhere else. And we have the highest incidence of mutant births in the world. No one knows why, but according to Native American legends, it’s been like this for centuries.” Jeffrey was silent for a while. “The reservation is near a sacred ground, and they have legends about vampires, werewolves, and spirits. The city encroached on that ground. Most of it is under the trailer park and industrial park now.” “Are you really full-blooded Ais?” Jack asked him. He looked closer at Jeffrey. “Three-quarters Ais. One-quarter Irish.” Jeffrey nodded. “Even though I don’t know much about my ancestors, I’ve been hearing Native American legends all my life. I believe that building on the sacred ground was a mistake, but it’s too late to do anything about it

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now. Besides, there are other places like this. You’ll soon find out. It’s all in the brochure.” He pulled up to the curb in front of Dee’s club and said, “Here you are.” Jack and Mémé Hoya got out of the car and thanked him. He leaned out the window. “Better go get some sleep. I’m pretty sure the Heart Taker is out tonight, looking for a victim. If he can’t get Brianna, he’ll kill someone else. Be prepared for me to call you, Jack.” Jack nodded, and he and Mémé turned and went back into the club. Music was still blaring, and people were still dancing the night away. Dee saw him and waved, and a few of the dancers recognized him and screamed his name above the music. He ducked his head and turned toward the office, Mémé at his heels, when suddenly time stood still. It was bizarre. Even the music stopped. Everything froze, except for one figure across the room. Jack tried to focus on him, but he darted out the door and vanished into the night. Jack took an involuntary step backward and banged into Mémé Hoya, who, stiff as a statue, toppled sideways. He grabbed her and set her on her feet. By the time he’d turned around, the Heart Taker had gone. He scanned the club, but there was no sign of supernatural motion, and suddenly time twanged back into its place. The music blasted him, and Mémé Hoya took a step and crashed into him. “Sorry,” she said, looking surprised. “I didn’t think you were so close.” “I wasn’t. I think the Heart Taker was here. Go into the office with Brianna. Lock the door behind you. I have to tell Dee.” She didn’t argue. Her lips pressed together, and she trotted off toward the office. Jack turned and pushed his way through the crowd toward Dee, who was busy talking to Suki at the bar. “Dee, I need to see you in your office,” said Jack, yelling to make himself heard. “I’ll be right there.” Dee clapped him on the back. “The place is hopping! How was your visit with May?” “Interesting,” said Jack truthfully. “What’s in the bag?” Dee pointed to the bag Jack held. “Oh, just some stuff.” Jack clutched it a bit tighter. “Go see Brianna; she’s worried sick about you. I’ll be there in a minute.” Dee turned back to the bar where there seemed to be a problem about a shortage of beer. Jack hurried to the office, meaning to set Brianna’s mind at ease, when the music stopped again. He whirled around. Everything was still, except for a tall man dressed all in brown over by the bar. He saw Jack and frowned. “You again.” The Heart Taker, for Jack had recognized him, bared his teeth and hissed. “I have to kill tonight,” he called to Jack. “I don’t know where your girlfriend is, but it doesn’t matter. I have the poem all written out, it’s All Hallow’s Eve, and I need a heart, so anyone will do. I’ll save your sweetheart for another

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day.” He didn’t resemble Jeffrey anymore. He looked purely evil. His face was twisted in a mask of anger and hate. Jack dropped his bag, and it hung in the air. He sprinted toward the man, who held something shiny in his hand. A knife. And the knife was plunging right toward Dee’s chest. Jack was on one side of the club, the Heart Taker near the bar. Jack crashed through the people on the dance floor, pushing them aside like bowling pins. They didn’t fall, but stayed in the air. The Heart Taker moved with dazzling speed. But Jack had the same power of movement, and the Heart Taker only had enough time to plunge his knife partway into Dee’s body before Jack was upon him. Jack didn’t hesitate. He bowled the Heart Taker over, slamming him against the bar. The knife fell out of the Heart Taker’s hand and stayed suspended in midair. When Jack grabbed the Heart Taker’s arm, he got a shock. It was like grasping a live wire. Startled, he let go, and the Heart Taker got to his feet and literally flew out the door, screaming over his shoulder, “I need a heart! I’ll get one. You’ll see!” Jack wanted to run after him, but he was too worried about Dee. He turned and plucked the Heart Taker’s knife out of the air and looked at Dee, who stood still with a strange expression on his face. Jack glanced at the dance floor and knew if he stopped moving, the people would fall, and some could be hurt. He dashed back the way he had come, straightened the people he’d knocked aside, and grabbed his bag. Fighting down his horror, he put the knife in his bag and rushed back to Dee’s side. He paused for a deep breath, stopped moving, and everything happened at once. Dee gave a start and started to cough. Suki saw Jack and dropped the glass he’d been holding. “Yo!” He jumped back “Where did you come from, man?” Jack didn’t answer. He grabbed Dee and pushed him into a seat. “Call an ambulance,” he said to Suki. Dee was breathing fast, and his color looked bad. He had both hands pressed to his chest. “Am I having a heart attack?” he asked. Jack saw scarlet start to seep onto Dee’s white shirt. “I’d like a gin and tonic,” said a man dressed in a pirate outfit, coming up to the bar and leaning over Dee and Jack. “Hold on.” Suki was on the phone, yelling the bar’s address so that the person on the other end could hear it. He clutched the phone to his ear with one hand, served the drinks with the other, and kept a worried eye on Dee all at the same time. “What happened to him, man?” he asked Jack. “Is the ambulance on its way?” Jack was holding Dee now, as he’d slumped over on the seat.

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“Yeah. Hey, man, he’s bleeding!” Suki jumped over the bar and grabbed Dee’s shoulders. “What happened?” “The Heart Taker was here.” Jack didn’t want to let go of Dee, but he had to tell Jeffrey. “Help me carry him to the office.” Suki didn’t waste time asking questions. He helped Jack get Dee to the office and lay him on the couch. Jack grabbed the phone in the office and called Jeffrey. Jeffrey said he was on his way. Only then did Jack think to look for Brianna. She stood, her back to the far wall, her eyes immense in her face. He crossed the room in three steps and grabbed her, hugging her to him as hard as he could. He buried his face in her neck and just stood there, letting the warmth and softness of her body soothe his nerves. Her arms crept around him, and she stroked his back and shoulders. But she was shaking. He took a breath and stepped back. “Mémé Hoya told me everything,” she said. Jack nodded. “And?” “And yes, I think it’s a good idea for you to work there. And yes, I’ll help you. But Jack, what happened to Dee? Why did you tell Jeffrey the Heart Taker was here?” Her voice had been rising steadily, and it finished on a high, frightened warble. “Because he was here. He’s been looking for you. I tried to stop him, but he attacked Dee. I’m not a very good mutant-catcher yet,” Jack said. Brianna blinked and tears spilled down her cheeks. “Will he be all right?” “I don’t know.” Jack hugged her again, and again, as soon as she was in his arms, the world righted itself, and everything looked brighter, somehow. Or Mémé Hoya had just switched on the halogen light above Dee’s desk. Davinia knocked on the door. “The ambulance is here!” Jack opened it, and the emergency squad rushed in, loaded Dee on a stretcher, and rushed out again. Mémé Hoya went with them and promised to keep everyone informed. Suki, after a worried look in Dee’s direction, went back to the bar, and Jack found himself alone with Brianna. “I’m a failure,” he said. “Give yourself credit for saving me at least. And Dee would have died if you hadn’t stopped the Heart Taker. Let’s just believe he’ll be fine for now and stop worrying about something we have no control over.” Brianna pointed to the bag in his hand. “What’s that?” Jack showed her, keeping the hat out of sight. There came another knock on the door, and Jeffrey walked in. “I hope you’re ready. I’m taking you to a crime scene. The Heart Taker got his Halloween victim after all.”

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Chapter Seventeen A Broken Heart In the car, Brianna didn’t have time to ask Jack why he’d fled. She’d been embarrassed, furious, miserable, and then embarrassed again, thinking about how she’d flung herself on him. Why had he left her alone in the safe room? Where had he gone with May? She’d hash it out with him later. Maybe. But the confusion she felt about him made it hard for her to concentrate on Jeffrey’s words. When they arrived at the crime scene, she tried to get back into police mode. Jack helped her out of the car. As she stood up, she looked around, her mind suddenly snapping back into a more professional manner. Taking in the police cruiser, the ambulance, the tape, and the markers, her police training took over automatically. Good. She could do this. She’d been a cop. She was a pro. Brianna noticed the policemen were staring at her at the same time she remembered she was also still wearing her pink dress, fairy wings, and fake tiara. She paused before ducking under the crime scene tape. She stepped carefully around the small yellow markers on the ground, noting the numbers on them. With a sweeping glance, she took in the scene. The narrow alley ended in a high, brick wall, and the body lay just inside the alley. The pool of blood from the victim had stopped moving, but hadn’t lost its sheen. Afterward, details clicked in her brain. Fingers curled upward, blood on the sole of the left shoe, a Kleenex near the body. Something was odd. Brianna looked around and nearly didn’t get it, and then suddenly she noticed the stillness. No one was talking. Usually, there was a steady murmur of voices. The three officers gathered on the far side near the tape were staring at her and Jack in wary silence. Jack stood by the wall, looking at the body, a sick expression on his pale face. He

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clutched his cape around his broad shoulders. With his black hair, pale skin, and glittering eyes, Jack didn’t look quite human, but he certainly didn’t look frightening. Maybe it was her outfit? Brianna looked down at her pink taffeta skirt and over at one of the police officers. He caught her eye and jumped. “Is anything wrong, Officer?” she asked. He hesitated. “Are you a mutant or an undead?” “Neither.” Jeffrey’s voice was trenchant, and the look he gave the officer would have withered roses. “This is Jack Severn and special agent Brianna Henley. She used to work for the city police department. She was my partner.” He had emphasized the word “partner,” and even in the darkness Brianna could see the other officer flush. “Sorry,” he said to Jeffrey. “With the costumes…aw, hell, I forgot it was Halloween for a minute.” The other officers shifted uncomfortably and looked away. Jack looked from Brianna to Jeffrey to the group of officers. “Are they afraid of us?” he asked Jeffrey in a low voice. “Don’t worry about them,” said Jeffrey absently, carefully picking his way to the side of the corpse. “They don’t like working on mutant or undead cases. Very few people do, as you can imagine. It used to give me the creeps too.” He gave Jack a crooked smile. “This is new, but you’ll get used to it.” To the nearest officer he asked, “Were there any witnesses?” “Just one.” The officer who’d asked her if she were a mutant ducked under the tape and stepped forward. He shook Brianna’s hand, and she was pleased to see it was a real handshake, firm and energetic. She hadn’t liked the idea of scaring anyone. “She’s sitting in the patrol car. She was in a pretty bad way when we found her.” “You were first on the scene?” Brianna asked. “Officer Larry Merle was first. I arrived on his heels. No one else trampled the crime scene. The witness was trying to climb that brick wall.” He pointed the end of the alleyway. “She’d obviously tried to run and panicked, hit the wall, and afterward, just stood there and screamed.” “I know what she felt like,” said Brianna grimly. “All right. Thanks, Officer, uh, Slinger.” She peered at his badge. “Officer Dan Slinger at your service, ma’am.” Brianna thought his smile was a bit smarmy. She also noticed her top button was still undone and that the dress, never very modest, now bared a good expanse of what her grandmother had called “bosom.” Jeffrey and Jack were standing near the victim, so Brianna excused herself and went to join them. Taking a deep breath, she clenched her fists and looked down. The Heart Taker, no question about it. A once-white paper, now stained dark red, filled the gaping hole where a heart used to beat. No other wound. A look of pained surprise on the victim’s face. A woman, dressed in a Halloween costume representing a nurse, the immaculate white outfit now bloodied. Brianna stepped back, her heart suddenly lurching in

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her chest. The woman had auburn hair. It had to be a coincidence. Her hands strayed to her own hair. Almost the same cinnamon shade. She managed to get her breathing back to normal and turned to Jeffrey. “Pictures taken?” she asked. “Yes, and the forensic people have been over the scene. Doctor Banbury is in charge of medical, and he’s with the witness right now, making sure she doesn’t go into shock.” Jeffrey sighed. “I really hoped we’d catch him tonight. Who knows where he’s going to strike next.” “Anyone look at the poem yet?” Jack came to stand next to her, his expression strained. It must be bizarre looking down at a crime scene that echoes your own murder, Brianna thought. “Not yet.” Jeffrey put on gloves, took a pair of tweezers, and crouched down. He lifted the paper carefully from the chest cavity, delicately unfolded it, and slid it into a clear plastic envelope. He looked at it, then without a word, handed it to Brianna. “Roses are red, violets are blue. You’re not the one I wanted, but, sweetheart, you’ll do.” Brianna read it aloud, and part of her mind registered the fact that her voice remained steady, not wavering once. Her knees started to shake, though, and she had to swallow hard to keep the bile down her throat. An arm encircled her shoulders. Jack held her tightly, and she managed to stop shaking. “The bastard,” she whispered. “All right. Let’s go. We’ve seen enough,” said Jeffrey. He nodded to Jack. “Do you want to look around some more?” “No.” Jack squeezed Brianna’s shoulders once more. She took another deep breath and felt better. “I’d like to talk to the witness.” Brianna accompanied Jeffrey to the car where a woman sat in the back seat next to a man she recognized as Dr. Banbury. They shook hands, and Brianna slid into the front seat, twisting around to face the witness. The woman looked awful. Her hands shook as she held a cup of tea, and most of it spilled down her chin when she tried to drink. She wore a black dress, and her black fishnet stockings, Brianna noticed, had huge runs in them. A witch’s hat lay crumpled at her feet. She’d been disguised as a witch. Some streaks of green makeup still remained on her blotchy, tear-stained face. “There now, you’re safe. No one can hurt you,” said the doctor. Brianna pitched her voice low and spoke softly. “I know what it was like. I’ve seen the Heart Taker in action. I’m sorry you had to witness that. What I’d like to know is if you saw or heard anything at all.” The woman looked at her, took in her pink dress and tiara, and a ghost of a smile tugged her lips. Then it faded, and she shuddered. “I didn’t hear anything, and all I saw was a fountain of blood suddenly spurt from Penny’s chest. We were almost home. We share an

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apartment just down Wharf Street. We would have been safe, if only Penny hadn’t gotten so drunk. She could hardly walk. I was half carrying her.” “Did she always drink so much when she went out?” Brianna asked. “No. She hardly ever drank. But tonight her boyfriend broke up with her at the party we went to. It was pretty bad. She caught him with another girl in the bathroom. She told me her heart…her heart was broken.” Here she stopped and gave a hiccuping sob. “Now she doesn’t even have a heart.” She buried her face in her hands. “Oh.” Brianna wasn’t sure what to say. Dr. Banbury looked at her and gave a shrug. Well, that was that. Brianna got out of the car and told Jack and Jeffrey what the witness had said. “I wonder…” Jack frowned and looked worried. “What?” Brianna and Jeffrey asked at the same time. Jack looked troubled and then said something that Brianna had thought of, but had figured it too far-fetched to mention. “If her heart was broken, will the Heart Taker look for another one, do you think, or do you think he won’t really care?” “It all depends on what he uses them for,” said Jeffrey, and his shoulders slumped. “Come on. I’ll drop you two off. Be at the office tomorrow at nine sharp. We’ll have the photos and the evidence ready.” Back in the apartment, Brianna sat on the couch, and before Jack could open his mouth, she said, “I want to apologize for throwing myself at you. I don’t know what came over me. I’m not usually like that, honest. It must have been your show. I didn’t drink anything.” She put her hands on her cheeks. They were burning. “Brianna…” “No, wait, Jack. Let me finish. You can stay here for as long as you want. There’s enough room. I want you to feel at home here for as much time as you need, and I promise I won’t take off my clothes or try to seduce you again.” “I…” he began. “Unless you want me to,” she added quickly. “Because I have to tell you that I love making love to you. You’re the best lover I’ve ever had. I have a confession to make; I never had an orgasm before making love with you.” He cleared his throat. “Uh, that’s good.” “So if you want to sleep in my room, I’d like that.” He nodded. “You know, I don’t think I can ever be as embarrassed in my life as right this second.” She smoothed her crumpled skirt and tried for a light laugh. “At least that’s over, and no one else heard my confession.” She suddenly felt an icy trickle down her arm. She looked at Jack and sighed. “How long has Sally been here?”

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***** Jack couldn’t sleep until Mémé Hoya called. Dee was going to be all right. With that news, and knowing that Brianna was safe in her bed beside him, Jack could finally lay his head on the pillow and let sleep crash over him. Of course, when you’re so exhausted, your dreams are often chaotic and strange. That night, Jack dreamed of his family. For the first time since he came back to life, he dreamed of his parents. They were standing together, hand in hand, and Jack recalled that they had been close. His mother looked worried and said, “Jack, be very careful.” His father smiled and said, “I’m proud that you’ve joined the police force, son.” They vanished, and his grandparents took their place. Nana Severn, Pop Severn, Granny Timbold and Grampa Timbold -- all four standing where his parents had stood. “We were waiting for you. We would have welcomed you,” said Nana Severn. “But you got cheated out of your afterlife.” Pop Severn looked angry. “Now you’re stuck on earth until you find your heart and until you die again. It may be a long while.” Granny Timbold nodded seriously. Grampa Timbold put his hand out. “You need another gift. We got together and thought of this. Take it. Swallow it. You’ll be able to talk to the newly dead.” In his hand, was something that looked like a pink Life Saver. Jack took it, and because it was a dream, he swallowed it. It tasted like cotton candy. His grandparents vanished, and the scene shifted from an empty room to an alleyway, where someone sat and cried. The figure was in shadow, so Jack couldn’t see who it was. But he could hear, and the words the figure spoke made his skin crawl. “It’s broken, it’s broken.” Over and over it wailed. Unexpectedly, the figure stood up and let out a furious scream. Jack sat bolt upright in bed. His fingers tingled, and he felt faintly nauseated. Next to him, Brianna stirred and mumbled. “What time is it?” He looked at the clock. “Seven.” “Oh, God. I could sleep another twelve hours.” She dug herself deeper under her covers, sighed, and sat up. She looked at him. “It’s not fair.” “What?” He dug his fingers into his skull, trying to chase away the remnants of his dream. “You don’t have morning face.” She pulled at a lock of her hair and grimaced. “First dibs on the shower.” He didn’t think she had morning face, either, and told her so, but she looked disbelieving. She got up, hit him with the pillow, and laughed. “It just feels good to still be

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alive. I’ve been so scared these past few days. It’s been like a nightmare.” Her face grew still, her smile faded. “Oh, Jack, I’m sorry. That was so thoughtless.” He shook his head. “No, don’t apologize. I know I’m dead, and it doesn’t matter until you start saying how sorry you are.” She crawled back on the bed and wrapped her arms around him. “I never want to hurt your feelings.” “I know.” Her skin was soft and very sweet. He kissed her bare shoulder, where her nightshirt had slid down. “I had the strangest dream last night. I dreamed of my parents and grandparents.” He told her what happened. She raised an eyebrow. “You already see spirits.” “Some of them I can see -- the stronger manifestations.” The memory of the dream was already fading, though. He shook his head. “I can’t even see my grandparents’ faces clearly anymore.” “Dreams are strange,” Brianna said. She got up and went into the bathroom. A little while later he heard the shower turn on, and she called out, “Anyone around who can wash my back this morning?” Jack grinned as he got out of bed. The morning was about to get interesting. He brushed his teeth and got into the shower, stopping to admire the view as water poured over Brianna’s head, over her shoulders, and down her back and buttocks. Just the sight of her buttocks was making him hard. He stepped forward and let her know just how she affected him. Looking back, her eyes mischievous, Brianna said, “I think I dropped the soap. Hold on.” “Whoa. My wet dream comes true.” Jack cleared his throat. “I have this fantasy about girls in the locker room showers.” “Dropping their soap?” His cock gave a hard throb. “Yeah.” She stayed bent over, the water splashing delightfully over her curves. That was an engraved invitation if he ever saw one. Putting his hands on her waist, he drew her close, and pressed his cock against her passage. With a satisfied groan, he thrust slowly into her. The heat of her body, the tight, slickness of her pussy and the warm spray of water on his face and chest all added to his excitement. And when he imagined it was a scene from his daydream of the girl’s locker room, that he’d somehow been invited in, and Brianna had teased him, bent over, and let him put his hands on her breasts… He grabbed her breast in both hands, thrust a few more times, and came undone. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat again, after he’d managed to drag some air into his lungs and pry his fingers off her breasts.

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She turned the water off, turned around, and gave him a hug. “There is nothing to be sorry about. And anyway, we have to hurry now.” Jack decided that the next time they made love, he’d think about the very stern gym teacher coming in and catching them in the act. His cock quivered, and he looked askance at it. “You and I have to have a talk one of these days,” he said, frowning. “I usually think of grocery lists,” Brianna said helpfully, tossing him a towel. “Are you reading my mind or something?” Jack dried himself off and stood in front of the mirror to put shaving cream on his face. Brianna came back in wearing a professionallooking pantsuit over a white blouse. She pinned her hair back, dashed lipstick on, and drew smudgy gray lines under her eyes. Jack watched, fascinated. The sight of Brianna getting dressed and made up would never tire him, he thought. She looked tired, but beautiful. When she was done, their eyes met in the mirror. “I’ll have some orange juice and toast ready for you when you get out, all right?” “Wonderful, thanks.” He finished shaving, got dressed, and went to the kitchen where breakfast was ready on the table. He was starving and wolfed down his toast and orange juice. When they left, he made sure the front door was securely locked behind him. They caught the uptown tram and went to the hospital first. Mémé Hoya had slept in a cot next to Dee’s hospital bed. She was sipping a cup of coffee when they came in. Dee was awake, looking pale and bruised against the white pillows and stark walls. “The food here is the pits,” he said. “I hope you brought me something decent to eat.” “I haven’t been shopping in ages. The fridge is empty. How are you feeling?” Brianna perched on the edge of his bed and patted his hand. “You look awful.” “Thanks. It’s the lighting. It sucks.” He rolled his eyes. “Of course I look terrible. I lost most of my blood. I bled inside and out. Luckily they stitched me up, and nothing major got severed. The doctors said that another half an inch would have meant curtains for me.” He sighed, then narrowed his eyes. “Why are you both dressed like lawyers?” “I got a new job. Brianna too.” Jack explained about Interpol, about the mutant branch of Interpol, and told him about the local crime-fighting department. He showed Dee the MUCI handbook he had, and Dee raised his eyebrows and whistled. “I always knew about the ultrasecret center, but had no idea it was part of Interpol. Cool.” “Yeah, it is pretty cool, even thought I still get confused between Mooby and Moosie. But I just have to remember I work for Moosie, which is part of Mooby.” Dee grinned. “Whatever you say. I just hope you won’t stop working for me. You are a star.”

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Jack was pleased. Then he looked at the clock on the wall. “We have to run. We’ll let you know what happens.” Brianna gave Dee a peck on the cheek and hugged Mémé Hoya. “Why don’t you go get some rest?” she asked. “I will. But Sally says to be careful. She says there’s lots of sorrow out there. Lots and lots.” Jack thought about that on the way to the office. Even during the day, it was impossible to guess that the construction site and warehouse hid an enormous, ultramodern complex. Using the magnetic card Jeffrey had given him, Jack entered the front door, Brianna at his heels. Her jaw dropped as they stepped inside. “Holy…cow,” she said, looking around, her mouth open. They went to the front desk, and Jack flashed his badge. “I think it’s this way.” Jack led her down the hallway, got lost, found the elevators, checked his badge, frowned, took another hallway, and somehow found the right office. “We’re late now,” Brianna sounded nervous. Jack wasn’t ready for what awaited him. Jeffrey had papers spread all over his desk. Also on his desk was a photo of a very pretty woman with long, blond hair, tilted green eyes, and a wide smile. He remembered Brianna telling him that Jeffrey’s wife was ill. “Is that your wife?” he asked. Jeffrey looked at the photo, and a sad smile tugged at his mouth. “That was Wendy when we first met.” “Brianna told me she’s sick. I’m sorry,” said Jack. Jeffrey’s smile didn’t waver, although his eyes stayed sad. “She’s mostly the reason why I work two jobs. Wendy wanted to stay at home and not be in a nursing home. It’s expensive, but at least she’s not in a place that she hates. And I try to spend as much time with her as I can. Even though she’s not conscious very much now.” His voice wavered. “What’s she suffering from?” Jack asked. “Leukemia. It’s reached the terminal stage now. She doesn’t have much longer to live.” “I didn’t know she was that ill.” Brianna’s face was very white. “She had another attack about four months ago.” Jeffrey took a deep breath. “Here’s your contract, Jack. Sign here, here, and here. This is your copy. Here’s another badge. A permanent one. And here’s your Social Security card. Brianna, here’s your paperwork, contract, and badge.” He gestured to another pile on his desk. Jack picked up his Social Security card. It wasn’t the usual light blue, but pale green. “Social Security?” “Well, why shouldn’t the undead get Social Security?” Brianna looked at the card. “The number starts with a Z, then a U. Does that stand for zombie, undead?”

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“Not bad,” said Jeffrey. He pointed to the card. “Zombie, undead, and the date he died, the date he was resuscitated. The next number is his pin number.” “So vampires are V, U, and then their dates?” Jack was fascinated. “And werewolves are W, M, the M for mutant. There are other classifications too. You can find them in the handbook. So yes, the undead and mutants get Social Security. And it’s pretty well organized, seeing there aren’t as many mutant or undead as humans. Things get processed faster. Plus the government keeps a close eye on…well, mutants and undead.” Jeffrey gave a grimace. “Right. Thanks.” Jack tried not to mind that he was an undead too much. Now that it was official, it stung even more, though, not less. He sighed as he put his card in his wallet, and folded his copy of his working contract. “The files are here,” Jeffrey said, pointing to a stack of paper on his desk. The stack was at least a foot high, but it didn’t seem to daunt Brianna. “We’ll go over them right now. Is there an office we can use?” She took half the pile and nodded for Jack to take the rest. “Two rooms down, on the left. There’s a coffee machine in there too. All the comforts of home,” Jeffrey said. He showed them to the room. “Your office. Telephone, uncomfortable chairs. Plastic laminated desk. Bookcase that will fall apart if you put too much weight on it. Regulation metal safe for your valuables, and a metal file cabinet for your files.” “Who picked out the colors?” Brianna made a face. “Is vomit a color? At least there’s a coffee machine. I might be able to work here.” “This is all standard army supply,” said Jeffrey. He patted the desk. “You work for the feds now.” Brianna tilted her head and said, “So I’m a federal worker now. Retirement benefits, full medical, dental, 401, and all that, is that it?” “It’s not quite the same contract you had with the state, but you can take the time to read your contracts later. Let’s go. May is waiting for us.” Jeffrey stretched, and again Jack was struck at how tired he looked. It must be exhausting, looking after a sick wife and holding down two jobs. He felt a sudden rush of pity mixed with admiration for the man. He could understand why Brianna would fall in love with him. A sudden worry clenched his stomach, but he swallowed it away. He needed to keep focused on the Heart Taker. “May?” Brianna put her contract into her purse. “Does she work with you, Jeffrey?” “She’s one of our agents, yes. Mostly she works with the night watch. She’s offered to help Jack get his bearings here.” “I’m sure she did.” Brianna’s voice held a note in it that set little warning bells off in Jack’s mind. But he didn’t have time to dwell on that either.

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“Come on.” Jeffrey strode out, and they followed. They went straight to the morgue, to the cubicle where the latest victim was kept. Taped to the walls behind the body were the photos of the crime scene. Each body had a separate cubicle. It made working on each case easier, explained Jeffrey. He glanced at his watch and said, “I have to run. My other job is waiting for me. I’ll be back here tonight. Let’s meet in my office at seven. May will take over from here. Dr. Banbury is around or should be here in a few minutes.” “Where’s May?” Brianna asked. “Probably in the lab. Second door on the right.” Jeffrey shook Jack’s hand, nodded at Brianna, and added, “I’m very glad to have both of you on the team.” Jack watched him as he walked down the main hallway, before turning to check out his surroundings. The morgue and forensic science offices were set up in a huge half circle, with the hallway forming the arc. Cubicles lined up along the arc, and behind them were placed the labs and offices. You could pull a frosted-glass panel across the cubicle’s walls to block it from view, or leave the plateglass windows so that you could see from one room to the next. In case of multiple victims, larger rooms existed. But in this cubicle lay a lone cadaver on a stainless steel table. May hadn’t arrived yet, but Brianna pushed the door open and went to stand in front of the back wall, where photos and charts were neatly pinned. Jack hesitated before going in. Stopping at the table, he looked at the woman’s corpse. She looked a little like Brianna. The same hair color. Young. Pretty. Had the Heart Taker chosen her because of the resemblance? He couldn’t think of her as just a body. He shared something with this woman. They’d both been killed by the same creature. He looked at the chart hanging on the foot of the table. Penelope Winger. He didn’t want to read anymore. It was like eavesdropping. He was about to say something to Brianna, when the body on the table whispered, “Jack.” He nearly jumped out of his skin. A chill washed over him. Gooseflesh prickled his skin. He leaned closer. “Yes?” “You have to find out what he does with the hearts,” she said, still in the faintest of whispers. Her mouth didn’t move. No breath stirred from her. Her skin was still white…Jack understood where the expression “dead white” came from now. She wasn’t talking. It must be her spirit. He backed up and looked around, but the spirit remained invisible. He remembered his dream then, and a sugary, strange taste filled his mouth. “He uses the hearts for a reason,” said the spirit. “He muttered as he cut. It went too fast in the beginning, but when I died, everything slowed down, and I could see him. I was above everything, above the alley, above the Heart Taker. I couldn’t feel the pain anymore, and he was still mumbling.”

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“What did he say?” Jack found that he was trembling. Somehow, her words were stirring a memory he never knew he had. Not talking, not whispering…more like a muttered chant. Or a prayer? “This is for my lover. This is for my angel. This is for my sweetheart at the bitter end. Here you go. This is fine. It will keep you well for some time.” “What?” He wasn’t sure if he’d heard right. He waited, but there was no more whisper. It had gone. Whatever had spoken to him had dissipated like mist in the sunshine. “Jack!” He spun around. May strode into the room, calling his name, clipboard in hand. Brianna, still examining the pictures on the wall, turned and glanced at him. “Are you all right?” Brianna frowned. “You look paler than usual.” “I’m fine,” said Jack. He swallowed, wishing he could get the strange taste out of his mouth. “It’s the light here,” May said. “It leaches the color out of everything.” She nodded at the wall. “What do you see, Brianna?” Brianna hesitated “I can see that the attack came from the front. The first cut made this spray of blood here.” She pointed to a photo. “Afterward there are a few drops, and a huge gout of blood here.” She indicated another photo. “The girl took one step, then another, stepping in her own blood with her left foot. She fell and didn’t move from there until her friend shook her, moving her torso about thirty degrees from where she was before. In other words” -- she paused and looked at May -- “the Heart Taker operated while she was still standing.” “Operated.” May nodded a smile on her face. “Jeffrey told me you were good. Excellent. Excellent. And you, Jack. What can you tell me?” Jack took a deep breath. “All I know is the Heart Taker is taking the hearts in order to use them for a purpose. We know that he cuts them out with precision. Where did he learn to do that? Was he a surgeon? Is it easy or hard to cut a heart out of someone’s chest without damaging the heart?” “How long, if he worked in real time, do you think it would take?” May jotted something on her clipboard. Jack shook his head. “If you stop time, you can take as long as you want. For him, it can be an hour, two hours. It makes no difference. It depends on his strength. To hold time in place takes immense concentration. My theory is that he exists in a different time frame than we do, so he doesn’t have to think about it. I don’t know if he ever slows down and enters our time.” “But that makes him impossible to catch.” Brianna looked worried. Jack had been thinking about that. “That might work in our favor. You have to understand that there are some things he cannot do. He cannot occupy the same space as another person. He is controlled by the same laws of physics as we are, only on a faster level.

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Moving so fast makes him more fragile than we are, because his molecules are held together more loosely. When I touched him, I was surprised by that feeling, so I let go. If I’d wanted to, I could have crushed him with my grip. He has to be careful not to bump into anything, and my guess is he avoids crowds unless he absolutely has to enter one.” “What I’d like to know is, was he born or was he made?” Brianna wondered aloud. “I’d rather know where he is now and if we can catch him before he kills someone else.” Jack rubbed his head and looked at May. “I don’t know much about police work yet, but I’d like to talk to a surgeon, preferably a heart specialist. Can I just walk into any hospital, flash my Moosie badge around, and get an interview?” May raised her eyebrows. “You’ve been watching too many movies. You have to call first. That way you don’t waste your time.” “Why don’t you do that, and I can go back to the crime scene and see if we missed something.” Brianna was about to leave, but Jack caught her arm. “No. I don’t want you five inches away from me until we catch the Heart Taker. Is that clear?” “He got his Halloween victim.” Brianna’s eyebrows drew together in a puzzled frown. “But her heart was broken,” Jack said.

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Chapter Eighteen The Heart Surgeon They went back to their office and sorted out the files. Brianna called the main hospital to find a heart surgeon. It didn’t take long to find a surgeon willing to talk to them, and soon Jack and Brianna were out of the huge building and back on street level in the fresh air. Brianna took a deep breath. It was full of pollution, but better than the canned air that circulated in the overbright, too-cold underground building. She hated being in a place without windows. She already missed being in her office overlooking the river. Except her office was now Mémé Hoya’s room. She wondered briefly if her decisions had been the right ones. She’d gone from independent bodyguard back to working for the system. She glanced behind her at the construction site, now busy with a crane, bulldozers, and yellow-helmeted workers -- all fake. What kind of system was she working for anyway? One that didn’t exist, like Area 51, or rather, it existed only in deep secrecy. Crossing the street, they headed toward a taxi stand. “Hey, you wanna shoeshine?” The kid on the corner was whip-thin, with the hungry, hopeful look Brianna recognized from the slums. His carrot-colored hair was cut ragged, his sweater was stained, and his jeans looked like they’d been handed down at least three times. She checked her watch. They had time. “Sure.” She put her foot on the wooden shoeshine box and marveled at the old wood and polished brass. “That looks old.” “Was my dad’s. He used to work at the racetrack back in the seventies.” The kid shrugged his skinny shoulders and got to work, rubbing polish into the leather loafer, whistling. He looked up and squinted at her. “Gotta let it dry a few minutes. So, you work in the secret base there?” Jack gaped, and Brianna figured her mouth was probably hanging open as well. “What secret base?” she managed to ask, trying for polite interest.

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“Well, it’s top secret, so everyone knows about it. Everyone in the trailer park, anyhow. It backs up to the park on one side, so we can see what’s going on.” The kid checked the polish with the tip of his finger. “Almost ready.” “What’s going on in the secret base, then?” Jack had a big grin. “Nothing. That’s why it has to be a secret base. I never seen a construction site so quiet, no one swearing, no junk lying around, and no big holes anywhere. Usually you start by digging, see. Well, sources say they dug for years, and after they finished, they filled it all back up. Trucks were driving past day and night, full of dirt and rocks. I remember because we just got relocated to the park, and I seen it all.” Fighting the urge to correct his English, Brianna simply said, “How long have you been in the park?” “Since just after the hurricane flooded our house.” The kid shrugged again. He started to brush the shoe, frowning in concentration. “I lost everything I had. All my clothes, my toys, and my GameCube.” A sigh now. “Well, put the other foot up here.” Brianna obeyed. “Nice job,” she said. “I get a lot of rubber soles here, like your loafers. Shoes that look nice, but that you can run fast in. And sometimes the shoes look like they’ve been through a lot. Yours aren’t too bad. Scuffed.” The boy tilted his head and gave a professional flick with his cloth. “The folks coming out of that site don’t look like construction workers and neither do you two. Plus they go two by two, always two by two, and that’s a cop thing. Or Seventh-Day Adventists. And I don’t think that the Seventh-Day Adventists would have a secret base in a construction site. Plus, you don’t look like Seventh-Day Adventists. They always have big smiles pasted on their faces. You two look serious.” “Well, as you rightfully guessed, we’re not Seventh-Day Adventists. And I can’t tell you much about the place, because I only just started working there yesterday,” said Jack. Brianna darted a sharp glance at him. Wasn’t top secret supposed to mean you kept hush about it? “Cool. So what kind of work do you do?” “Police work,” Jack said. The boy paused, then, looking over his shoulder, and asked, “Are you going to catch the Heart Taker?” Startled, Brianna nearly pulled her foot off the box. “Why do you ask that?” “Because we’re all scared of him in the trailer park. No one knows where he’ll strike next. Every couple months, they say, he rips someone’s heart out, and no one knows why or who he’ll kill next. Even us kids are scared. Since he’s been around, no one hangs out like they used to. No one sleeps well at night. I have nightmares that he comes into my trailer while I’m sleeping and watches me.” The boy nibbled his lower lip worriedly. “But if the folk

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in the secret base do police work, and you tell me you’re going to catch the Heart Taker, I’ll sleep better at night.” Brianna looked at Jack, who gave a miniscule shrug. “We’re trying the best we can.” “Tell me when you get him, all right?” The boy looked up at her, and she noticed the dark circles under his eyes and lines of strain on his face. The children, with their strong imaginations, would be more likely to suffer the strain of worrying about a monster. Brianna nodded. “I promise.” “Nice job you do there.” Jack pointed to her shoes, now shiny clean. “Want me to do yours?” Jack shook his head. “Not today. We don’t have the time right now. We have to meet someone at the hospital, but I’ll stop by another day, promise.” “That’ll be seven bucks,” the kid said, putting his brushes away. “You guys are the first ones to be straight with me, so I’m giving you preferential rates. Most of the people coming outta there tell me they work in construction.” Brianna started to say she wanted to pay the full rate, but Jack said, “Here you go. Keep the change,” and handed the kid a ten-dollar bill. Then Jack hailed a passing cab, and miracle of miracles, it stopped.

***** At the hospital, they were shown directly to Dr. Ballade’s office. As they walked in, the doctor stood up and shook their hands. He looked younger than Brianna expected, was very tall, and had a firm grip. “Have a seat. How can I help you?” he asked, sitting down and leaning over his desk, his hands in a steeple. Brianna glanced at Jack. “We’re looking for the Heart Taker, and we think he might have had medical training. Here are some pictures. Could you look at them and tell us if it looks like something a professional would do?” She stopped, flustered. “I mean, if it looks professional.” The doctor’s eyes twinkled behind his glasses. “I know what you meant.” He took the pictures, and the twinkle vanished, replaced by the blank look of utter concentration. He shuffled slowly through the pictures, going back and looking at one, the one that showed a gaping hole in a bloodied chest. His face seemed to contract as he thought. Finally, he looked up, placing the photos on his desk. “This is the work of a surgeon.” “How can you tell?” Jack asked. “The heart was taken out very carefully, as if the killer wanted to use it as a transplant. The vena cava…the arteries and veins, have been carefully severed. The first cut is horizontal, and he must use several different…”

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“Say that again?” Brianna felt as if someone had just hit her in the stomach. “He severs the veins very carefully…” “No, no. I mean about the transplant.” Brianna looked at Jack. “We needed to find out why he took the heart. We thought of all sorts of things, eating it, keeping it as a souvenir. But not for transplant. Thank you, doctor, we have to go.” “Where?” Dr. Ballade asked, polite interest in his voice. Brianna picked up her purse. “Back to the morgue. We have to check the victim’s blood types.” “Hold on. How would the Heart Taker know, though?” Jack tapped his fingers on the desk. “If he was a surgeon, he might still have access to medical records. Some are public. What blood type are you?” he asked Brianna. “I’m type A. It’s not the most common.” “It’s not rare,” said the surgeon. “Is your blood type A too?” he asked Jack. “AB.” Jack grimaced. “At least, I was AB. Now I’m not so sure. Does this toss our theory of a transplant into the trash?” Dr. Ballade looked thoughtful. “Why aren’t you sure about your blood type? It doesn’t change, you know.” “He’s a zombie,” explained Brianna. For the first time a spark of interest lit the doctor’s eyes. “I’d love to do some tests on you, if you don’t mind.” “Er, I’ll think about it.” Jack stood up hastily and paused. “Let’s imagine that blood type was part of his choice of victims. How would a surgeon find a database with blood types?” “If he were a surgeon, it would be ridiculously easy if the person has been to the hospital. All the patients are blood typed upon admission. But he wouldn’t have to be a surgeon. Anyone could check. School records, blood donors…it’s there if you look. For example, if you went to college here, you would have your blood type on the student card.” “But if he got it right, why does he need to kill so often?” Jack wanted to know. Doctor Ballade took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “If he keeps on killing, it could mean that his needs are complicated. Maybe he’s looking for a very rare blood type.” “Would just any heart do for a couple months?” “Oh, yes. But it wouldn’t last longer than that.” The doctor looked hard at Jack. “If you are a zombie, and you are dead, does that mean the Heart Taker killed you?” Jack looked grim. “Yes, he killed me. And I mean to stop him.” Brianna looked quickly at Jack and added, “We think he was the Heart Taker’s first victim.”

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“Well, I may have something of interest for you. It didn’t happen here, but in a hospital on the reservation. One of the surgeons disappeared about two years ago. I don’t remember any details, but it did create a stir for a while.” He wrote something down on a pad of paper, tore off a sheet, and gave it to Jack. “I’m pretty sure his name was Dr. Mercury or something like that.” “We’ll look into it. Thank you.” Jack shook hands with the doctor and helped Brianna gather up the photos. When they left the hospital, Jack looked at Brianna. “Now where to?” he asked. “The reservation hospital. But maybe we better take the tram. A taxi will cost us a fortune.” She sighed at the thought of the time it would take. “We can take the A line to Central Station, then change to…” “Doesn’t Mucky cover taxi fare?” “Mucky?” Brianna laughed. “I prefer Moosie. And you’re right. We’ll give them the bill.”

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Chapter Nineteen Reservation Ghosts Jack didn’t remember ever seeing the reservation before. Perhaps he’d been there, but he had no recollection of it at all. Mostly there was nothing to see, except near the tourist spots and the casinos. Near the casinos there were brightly painted tepees, palm trees in huge terra-cotta pots, and a main street that looked like a cross between Vegas and what a tenyear-old might imagine a Native American village looked like. “The hospital is right behind Dakota Drive,” said the taxi driver. “This is Dakota land?” Jack looked at the garishly painted signs advertising hotels, motels, casinos, bars, grills, and suddenly remembered he was starving. “There’s Apache Avenue, Mohawk Mews, Blackfoot Boulevard, Sioux Street, Lakota Lane…you name it, it’s here.” The driver shrugged and turned left, past a life-sized bison made out of cement and painted bright orange. “The settlers and the army killed off the tribe that used to live here. They were an unknown tribe. That’s what I read, anyhow. It was sacred land hereabouts, so the surrounding tribes managed to get it made into a reservation. Or maybe the government didn’t find anything of value on it, so they let the Native Americans have it. I don’t really know.” Jack spotted a small restaurant, and his stomach growled. “Let’s get something to eat,” he said to Brianna. “I’m starving.” She looked out the window. “Is it far to the hospital from here?” The cab driver shook his head. “No, just keep going straight and take the next left. You’ll see the hospital from there. You can’t miss it.” The restaurant was small, but the service was excellent and the food delicious. Jack had planked salmon with fresh asparagus, and Brianna had the buffalo burger with French onion

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sauce. When they finished, they found the hospital and went into the administration office to see if they could find out more about Dr. Mercury. “Of course, I remember him,” said the secretary in the main office. He checked their credentials before ushering them into a large room with filing cabinets taking up every available space except for a black table, a desk, and three chairs. “Here, have a seat. This is the record room. Let me see what I’ve got on him.” “What happened, exactly?” asked Brianna, setting her purse at her feet and sitting on one of the chairs. It was a hard, plastic chair, and Jack decided he’d rather stand when he saw Brianna wince as she sat down. “He was one of our best surgeons. I honestly don’t think he ever lost a patient during surgery. He was something of a legend here, and some of the staff told him he’d be in the world record book. Oh, yes, here we are.” The man took a folder out of a filing cabinet and slammed the drawer shut. “Doctor Silas Mercury. Here’s his file. You can take this one, it’s a copy.” He put it on the desk in front of Brianna. “Thanks.” Brianna took it, but didn’t open it. “So one day he just vanished?” “It was more than that. He left because of his wife. At least, that’s what we all think.” Jack imagined that the “we” meant the staff at the hospital. “Did his wife leave him for another man, cheat on him or something?” “Oh, no. She died.” The man shook his head. “A terrible story. It’s all in the file. She was sick for a long time. But before a donor was found, she died.” Jack started to get a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. “A donor?” “She needed a new heart.” Somehow Jack and Brianna found themselves outside, walking down the street. She clutched the file to her chest, her face blank. Jack thought he knew how she felt. “It’s late,” said Brianna. “We’ll never get back to the city in time to see Jeffrey.” “Let’s find rooms here and stay the night. I’d like to get to work on that file right away. I have a feeling we’ve found the Heart Taker,” said Jack. “That’s not a bad idea. I saw a motel not far from the orange buffalo on Dakota Drive. It was called Tall Chief’s Tepee, I think.” Brianna wrinkled her nose. “I’ve never stayed overnight here. The casino has a couple hotels there too.” “That’s where you saw the Heart Taker.” “I didn’t see him. Only you can do that.” Brianna gave a small laugh. “So it’s not really a coincidence, then, is it? He used to work here. He knows this place well.” “That’s what we’ll find out in the files. But I think we should go to the casino hotel. Just to see the place where he must hang out. Because if you think about it, it’s one way to get money. If he’s living here, he probably goes there often and steals chips or even money that pours out of the slot machines. He could grab part of it, and no one would be the wiser.”

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Brianna drew a sharp breath. “He wasn’t there to kill me, then. He was just there because he’s always there.” “We don’t know that yet. It’s just a hypothesis.” Jack grinned. “I felt like a real detective saying that. I always wanted to work that word into a conversation.” Brianna snorted. “In detective lingo we call it a hunch, not a hypothesis. You’re not a scientist, you’re a cop.” “I’m a secret agent.” Jack pointed to a department store. “Toothbrushes and clean underwear?” “A real secret agent always has that with them,” said Brianna smugly. She pointed to her purse. “Extra toothbrush, extra pair of underwear.” Jack shrugged. “That’s a girl thing, not a secret agent thing. I never saw James Bond whip out his extra pair of jockey shorts and pull his toothbrush out of a secret compartment in the sole of his shoes.” “That’s because he didn’t change his underwear or brush his teeth.” Jack loved it when Brianna giggled. He took her hand. “Come on, you can pick out my underwear. I’ll choose my toothbrush. After that we’ll get a room at the casino hotel, and we’ll call Jeffrey to tell him about our hunch. All right?” “I’ll call him right now.” Brianna dug her cell phone out of her purse and punched in a number. “Jeffrey? Got a minute? It’s Brianna. Listen, we’re at the reservation, and we’re going to stay overnight. Jack and I have a” -- she paused and looked at Jack, her grin widening -- “a hypothesis we want to check out. Yeah. That’s right. He is? He did? Oh, I see. Nine. Of course. Goodnight.” “I thought you said…” “You have to stop listening to me.” She sighed. “Jeffrey wants us in his office at nine tomorrow morning. Dee’s checked out of the hospital, but he needs care for a few days, so Mémé Hoya took him to my place. Jeffrey said Dee’s place is too small, or else Mémé Hoya would have taken him there.” “She should have called you,” said Jack. “I turned my cell phone off. I didn’t want any distractions. I forgot how to operate as a cop.” Brianna looked upset. “Don’t worry. It will all come back.” “I hope so. Little things like that can get you killed. Or kill someone else.”

***** The hotel at the casino was flashy in a cheesy, Hollywood western way. But the two beds were wide and comfortable, the bathroom vast and clean, and it had a decent desk and two chairs so they could get to work.

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“Room service?” Jack asked, after they’d opened the file on the desk and sorted it into three sections. The first was the doctor’s past, before he’d arrived at the reservation. The second pile was the biggest and included all the years the doctor was in residence. The last pile was all the records the hospital had gathered after his disappearance, including a missing person file and a transcript from the police. She was hungry, but didn’t feel like eating in. “No, let’s go down to the casino and eat at the bar and grill. We can stroll around, and you can see if you spot the Heart Taker.” “I didn’t bring the handcuffs,” said Jack. “Damn.” “Ta-da.” Brianna pulled them out of her purse. She always carried them with her. Jack and Brianna grabbed a quick meal at the grill before heading into the casino. They went to see the head of security and asked if he could tell them about any incidences of missing money, unexplained theft, or just strange happenings. “Strange happenings?” Chief of Security Brad Silverbird raised his eyebrows. “This is a casino. Strange happenings are commonplace here.” “Things that vanish, like betting chips or something,” Brianna insisted doggedly. “All the time. People don’t count them, or miscount them, think they had more than they did, and report it. If we catch someone stealing on camera, it’s usually solved pretty quickly. But a lot of times we don’t have anything on camera, and the person complaining has to face facts. He’s either lost the chips or miscounted.” Silverbird shrugged. “Our security system is state of the art, and the cameras can catch every inch of the casino.” “Do you keep records of all the complaints?” Brianna asked. “Of course. I can get you copies if you like. How far back do you want to go?” Jack said, “Three years.” Brad Silverbird’s eyebrows went even higher. “That’s going to be a lot of paper.” “Can we just have the statistics, then?” “All right. I’ll get my secretary to print them out for you. What room are you in?” Brianna and Jack went back to their room and started dissecting the files. A map of the town was also spread on the table, and Jack helped by putting red and blue markers on it. Red for the Heart Taker’s crime scenes and blue where Dr. Silas Mercury had lived and worked. Jack bent over the map, a serious expression on his face. Brianna stopped her reading to just look at him. She loved how his eyebrows went straight and then tilted downward. His nose was Greek-statue straight, and his square chin had a dimple in it. Another dimple danced just on the corner of his smile. His lips curved naturally in a smile. She liked that in a guy. And his lips looked good enough to nibble on.

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She looked back at the list she had drawn up. The words blurred. Blue eyes stared back at her. How could anyone have eyes so blue? They were like sea glass, sometimes blue-gray and sometimes blue-green. His wide jaw was made for her fingers to run over. Her eyes traced a line from the corner of his jaw down his strong neck to his collar. In her imagination, she slid her fingers under his collar, next to his warm skin and…

The list! Look at the list. Get your imaginary fingers out of his collar. Her mind certainly knew how to scold. Brianna blinked and peered closer at the papers. Dr. Silas Mercury used to live on the reservation, but he moved. That was a start. Jack stood and stretched. “See what you think about this,” he said, pointing to the map. Brianna saw right away. Every mark, blue or red, was made along the tram’s A line. It stretched from the reservation to the industrial park, passing through all of downtown and the trailer park. “Impressive,” she said, pretending she wasn’t thinking about his wide shoulders. He was so much taller than she was. Strong tendons and veins were prominent under the smooth skin on his arms and hands. He moved his finger across the map, and she imagined him stroking her skin. She swallowed. This was not good. Get your mind back on

the map, Brianna! “He must still live near the tram line. What do you think?” The tram line? Oh, yeah. The tram line. “I think you have something there.” She looked at the map, but aside from the obvious facts that the murders and the Heart Taker’s last address were on or near the A line, she couldn’t come up with any ideas. “It seems clear.” “What?” “The tram line is important.” “Right.” He seemed to be waiting for her to say something else. “It’s a long line.” “The longest one in the city,” he agreed. “He could live anywhere along it.” “According to the handbook, serial killers rarely kill near their homes.” “Is that so?” Brianna managed to stop thinking about Jack touching her and stared at the map. “He’s killed all along the map except on this side of the river.” She pointed to the trailer park. “And here, at the reservation, he’s not killed here, either, but that’s where he lived before. That could mean he lives in or near the trailer park, which still leaves a lot of places to search.” She stopped and rubbed her forehead. Her vision was blurring with fatigue. Jack touched her shoulder. “Let’s take a break. I’m beat. First dibs on the shower, if you don’t mind.” He put the caps back on the markers. “All right.” Brianna watched as he went into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. She propped her head in her hands and stared at the lists, the map, the files, and the desk. She stared at the rug and the curtains. All she could see was Jack.

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She tried to imagine what her shrink would say. But suddenly it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Jack was back. Somehow life, necromancy, death magic, or whatever you wanted to call it, had given her another chance. What if it doesn’t work out between us? She sat on her bed and took her shoes off. It didn’t bear thinking about. She couldn’t imagine life without him. Jack and she had clicked together like two magnets that day at the outdoor market. And in bed, he’d been…fabulous. Of course, he remembered none of this, but maybe someday he would. Was he in love with her? Maybe he was interested in that May creature. She shot to her feet. No way was she letting May have Jack. At least, not until she’d given it her best shot. She took her clothes off, tossing them determinedly on the bed. This was war. She stomped into the bathroom and paused. Mist filled the room. The shower hissed invitingly. Brianna took a deep breath and parted the curtain. Jack stood with his back to her. She paused and admired his physique. Whatever magic the necromancer used, it was incredible. His muscles knotted and smoothed as he scrubbed at his neck and head, the water pouring over him outlined his body. So why was she still hesitating? Her hand tightened on the shower curtain. She was crazy about Jack and had been from the moment she’d set eyes on him. But he wasn’t the same. He was undead, like a vampire, and that was not just a small problem. That was something she would have to face squarely, and she wasn’t sure if she’d really come to grips with it. The problem was, you couldn’t tell if he was a mutant or undead. You could tell with vampires -- by their incredible pallor, by their fangs, and by their aversion to sunlight. They sort of looked, well, undead. But Jack looked fine. His skin glowed, his hair was silky, his eyes sparkled…and he was naked in the shower. Well, what was she waiting for? She stepped in and closed the curtain.

***** Jack let the hot water wash away the knots in his back and arms. He hadn’t known detective work could be so tiring. He leaned against the tiled wall and closed his eyes. “Oh, there’s a naked man in my shower,” Brianna’s voice purred in his ear, and he blinked. She stood just behind him, water pearling on her hair and face, her skin turning pink as the hot water touched it. She picked up a washcloth and said, “I’ll wash your back, and you can wash mine.”

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The washcloth rubbed his back for a few seconds, before dipping down to his buttocks and between his thighs. Jack swallowed hard. “Is it my turn yet?” “No, I’ve just started.” She turned him around and batted her eyelashes at him. “My, you are a big, strong…hard man.” Her voice purred in her throat, and she reached for his stiff cock. At that moment, a face appeared behind her. Jack gave a yell and stepped back, nearly falling. He saved himself by grabbing the guardrail on the shower wall. Brianna shrieked too. “What is it?” The face had vanished. In fact, Jack was suddenly unsure if he’d actually seen anything. A face? Maybe it had been a shadow; there was a lot of steam in the bathroom. He must be tired. He rubbed his hands over his eyes. “It was nothing, sorry. A hallucination.” “Oh.” Brianna gave a sigh of relief and grinned. “So, where were we?” “Getting out of the shower before we slip and fall.” Jack was glad of the guardrail, and gave it a pat. “But first, my turn to wash your back.” He washed considerably more than her back. He loved the way his soapy hands slid over her body, her breasts, and legs. He cupped her buttocks and slipped his hands between her thighs and rubbed so hard on her pubic hair the soap lathered like shaving cream. “Did you ever consider shaving there?” he asked her. “No, I’m afraid it will itch growing out. Don’t get soap in there, it irritates my skin.” He aimed the showerhead to rinse her off, slid one finger into her labia, and stroked gently. She purred like a cat and arched her back. The face was back. Or at least, he thought he saw it again. He stopped caressing Brianna and turned the water off, pulled the shower curtain open, and looked around the bathroom. No one. Brianna uttered a frustrated groan and pulled his hand back between her legs. “Don’t stop now!” He loved the slick, slippery feel of her aroused sex, and his cock definitely agreed with Brianna. He stepped carefully out of the shower and held up a thick, warm towel for her. “Here, let me dry you off.” She pressed her body to his, and he wrapped them both in the same towel. “Oh, this is so nice.” She ran her hands down his body, delicately tracing the scars on his torso. “They are fading. Does it still hurt?” “No.” He shivered with delight as her hands danced over his body. He shivered even harder when she knelt and took his cock in her mouth, slid her lips over it, sucked…the face was back. Closer now and definitely male. Jack stiffened. He wanted to pull back, but Brianna held him firmly. “Don’t move,” she growled softly, taking her mouth off him. The cool air was a shock. The face, still hovering about six feet off the ground, faded a bit, before coming back even

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clearer. It was the face of a Native American. The face was watching him intently and grinning. A body appeared, attached to the face. Naked torso, leather leggings, leather loincloth, and on his body, some interesting scars. Jack knew he was looking at the real thing, not a costumed actor. The leather was too worn, plain, and comfortable looking. And as he watched, the ghost reached under his loincloth and stroked himself. “Brianna…” He didn’t know quite how to tell her that they had a voyeur ghost in their bathroom. “Let’s go put those beds to good use.” Maybe if he could get them into the bedroom, the ghost would vanish. Or maybe not. The Indian ghost followed Jack and Brianna right into the room and didn’t hide his pleasure at watching them. “Why are you pulling the covers up?” Brianna wriggled and shrugged out of the sheets. Facing them, standing at the foot of their bed, the ghost cupped his hands in front of his chest, imitating Brianna’s breasts. He said something in a guttural language, and though Jack didn’t understand the spirit’s words, the message was obvious -- she’s hot! Let me look! Jack tried to think clearly, but Brianna was not giving him time. She lifted her hips, grabbed his cock with her avid hands, and drew him into her with a loud moan of contentment. “Oh, yes!” she cried. The ghost’s hands were now moving beneath the loincloth again. Jack looked away, embarrassed. Brianna dug her heels into the bed and arched her back, urging him on. Jack tried to pull the covers up again, and this time, Brianna rolled out from under him and laughing, straddled him. Impaling herself on his cock, her knees spread wide like the wings of some sacred bird. The ghost’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. Jack couldn’t stop the harsh groan being torn from his throat as Brianna teasingly impaled herself on him. Slowly, then faster, she rode him like a horse, rocking back and forth, sliding up and down on him. Her cheeks got brighter as her nipples hardened, and Jack felt tremors run through her body. He squeezed his eyes shut, tried to hold back. Brianna was having none of it. “Move, Jack!” she cried, “Come on!” He didn’t really need any urging. Taking her by the waist, he flipped her over and pinned her beneath him. He thrust into her and pressed his body to hers, the feeling of her heart pounding against him intoxicated him. His head spun, and his hips thrust of their own accord. Brianna wrapped her legs around his waist, and a high, warbling cry came from her lips. “Jack!” she gasped. He couldn’t say anything. His cock had just exploded, or felt like it had, and his insides were busy pumping themselves inside-out. When he finally came back to earth, he kissed Brianna on the temple and remembered the ghost.

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The ghost was still there. He had a stupid grin on his face. He waved, said, “Jaaack,” and vanished.

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Chapter Twenty Tea with a Necromancer The autumn wind blew bitter, and the sky was like clear blue glass. Brianna pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders and clutched her purse. Jack was being quiet that morning. He’d gone over the notes and files until late the night before. Brianna had fallen asleep, but Jack had still been bent over the desk, studying the dates intently. This morning, she’d woken up to find Jack slumped on the desk, sleeping, his cheek pressed into the folder’s spine. There were still some funny marks left on his skin. She’d ordered breakfast and awakened him with coffee and a kiss. Brianna and Jack were in a hurry to get to MUCI with their notes. Brianna wondered what Jack was thinking, but mostly he just looked tired. He did give her a tender kiss just before they left the room. That was enough for her to hang onto in the meantime. The taxi dropped them off in front of the construction site. The entrance was the same for everyone, a walk down an alleyway leading to a chain link fence. Walking through the creaking gate and up the cracked cement sidewalk, broken glass crunching beneath her shoes, Brianna admired the disguise. It looked like a foreman’s trailer attached to a cementblock warehouse. A warning sign. Another sign saying, DELIVERIES HERE, and a small sign with a phone number which supposedly connected you to the construction company. Out of curiosity, Brianna had called the number. A mechanical voice had asked her to hold, and after a few minutes, had asked her to hit the pound sign on her phone. The voice then started to enunciate a list of numbers for different offices and services, before asking her to hold again. Dreadful music starting playing over the line, and the voice came back and had asked her to say the number she wanted in a loud, clear voice. No matter how loudly or clearly Brianna had shouted, “Two!” the mechanical voice would only say, “That is not a valid

number. Please hit the pound sign to go back to the beginning and hear this message again or

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hit the seven in order to return to the one, and be connected to another number in order to leave a message. At the tone, say the number you want loudly and clearly. I repeat, at the tone, say your number.” “Two!” “That is not a valid number. Please…” Brianna had hung up before she did serious harm to her telephone. The front door looked rickety, but Brianna knew from its weight as it swung outward that it would be next to impossible to break down. She slid her passcard in the slot and waited for the loud click that meant the door had opened. When it clicked, she and Jack stepped through. It really was like falling down the rabbit hole, she decided, as they emerged in the bright, white hallways of MUCI. The light and bustle stunned her for a moment, and she shook her head to clear it before setting off down the hall after Jack, who, after glancing at the clock on the wall, announced that they were going to be late. “It’s only eight forty-five,” said Brianna. But Jeffrey was waiting for them, pacing behind his desk. “Well? What did you find out?” he asked. “I think we found out who he is.” Jack set the files on the desk and opened them, taking out his notes. “Dr. Silas Mercury disappeared the day his wife died. Three days later, on Halloween, I was killed.” “That doesn’t prove anything, but it’s a good start.” “There’s more. His wife’s body disappeared, too.” “Interesting.” Jeffrey nodded. “Nice work. Where did he live, and where could he be now?” “He lived in Sand Lake, just outside the reservation. His house is just as he left it, according to police notes. No one lives there, and the phone, water, and electricity services have been cut off. After a certain number of years the state can claim it, but until that time comes, it’s kept boarded up. But Brianna thinks that he still lives near the reservation. For one thing, when we checked the casino’s crime statistics, we found something interesting.” Jack nodded at her, and she took over. “We checked the year before the Heart Taker started killing and found that there were thirty-five incidents of theft in the casino. After Dr. Mercury disappeared, and after Jack died, the thefts tripled. And numbers for what the casino termed “complaints,” which turned out to be 90 percent about missing chips or money, tripled as well. Never any huge sums of money. But enough, if you add it all up, to pay rent and buy groceries. In other words, he’s probably renting a house or an apartment for about three- to five-hundred dollars a month and financing it with petty thefts at the casino.”

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“So we’re looking into rentals around that area, as well as on the direct tram line into the city. There are several stops he could live near, including Salvation Junction and Fresh Start Station.” “He could be in the trailer park?” Jeffrey shot her a worried glance, and Brianna knew why. The trailer park was a twisted labyrinth of unnamed streets and unlit alleys. At first, everything had been set up in straight lines, but the trailers had been shifted as families moved around, more family members arrived, or people left, had fights with their neighbors, or simply wanted to be in another part of the park. Some areas had trees, while others were bare. Streets degraded, became full of potholes, and people built fences around their trailers to delineate their property. The fences spread, some made from wood, others were made of tin or cement blocks or chicken wire, and it wasn’t rare to find barbed wire. Trailers had sometimes given way to prefabricated houses, and some trailers became the base for a two-story house. Anarchy reigned, and even though the crime rate wasn’t that much higher than the inner city or the poorer outskirts, it was high enough. People mistrusted the police, and the mutants and undead didn’t have the best reputation either. “We’re going to have our work cut out for us looking for him,” Jeffrey remarked. “I’m going to hang around the casino until he comes and then try to follow him,” said Jack. “But to tell you the truth, I don’t think I’ll have much luck.” “He can see Jack, just as Jack can see him,” explained Brianna. “And he’ll never lead Jack back to his home. He knows it would be suicide.” “So you think that this doctor became the Heart Taker because his wife died?” Jeffrey looked at Jack’s report and ran his hand through his hair, frowning mightily. “She died because she needed a new heart. According to the reports, she had a very rare blood type that made it impossible for them to find a donor for her.” Jack hesitated and said, “I’m going to go talk to Jim Ling-Li today. I want to know if it’s possible the Heart Taker is keeping his wife alive somewhere.” “Do you think she’s a zombie?” Brianna asked, a thrill of shock running through her. She’d never considered that possibility. For some reason, she’d thought the Heart Taker, being a surgeon, kept his wife alive with the hearts he stole. “That’s why I need to talk to Jim.” Jack looked at Brianna. “May and I might not be the only zombies around.” “We’ll start sending teams out to canvas the rentals in the areas you’ve identified,” said Jeffrey. He tapped his pencil against his teeth. “Do you have a picture of the doctor in the files that we can photocopy? We’ll start handing that out as well.” “Here’s one.” Brianna handed him the hospital ID badge. She’d already asked Jack if the picture looked like the Heart Taker, and Jack had told her that it might be him, but the man he’d seen had been much thinner, with dark, dark eyes. Otherwise it was hard to tell from an ID picture. They never looked like the person they were supposed to represent. Sort of like

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passport pictures, Brianna decided. And photos added ten pounds to you, so unless you were emaciated, you looked fat. He did, however, bear a certain resemblance to Jeffrey, and he was clearly Native American. A knock sounded, and May entered the room. “Hello, Brianna and Jack,” she said, in her clear, soft voice. “May, I need to see your father as soon as possible. Would he have time for me this morning?” “For you, Jack, he always has time.” Brianna gritted her teeth. May looked at Jack with fawning admiration. It grated on Brianna’s nerves, especially so early in the morning. “I’ll head over there now.” Jack took his coat from the hook on the wall and put it on. Taking down Brianna’s coat, he held it out to her. “You haven’t met Mr. Ling-Li,” he said. “I think you’ll find this interesting.” “Oh, Jack, if I don’t see you before tonight, I have to ask you to come with me to The Shores again.” May went to the desk and looked down. “Is this the suspected Heart Taker?” She lifted the doctor’s photo and peered at it intently. “You and Brianna have made a lot of progress. That’s wonderful, Jack.” “Why do you want me to accompany you to The Shores?” “Because there are some spirits who want to speak to you. Something has been bothering them since All Hallow’s Eve. They’re frightened. I think you should hear what they say.” Brianna thought that was strange, but she held her tongue. Jack, after a moment’s hesitation, said, “All right. Shall we meet there, then?” “At midnight tonight.” May beamed. “I’ll see you there.” Brianna slid her arms into the coat that Jack was holding and slung her purse over her shoulder. To Jeffrey she said, “Who do we give the taxi and hotel expenses to?” “Accounting. Just keep everything together and submit it as expenses at the end of the month. But restaurants don’t count; you get resto-tickets for that. I forgot to give them to you, sorry.” He took a small booklet of tickets out of his desk and handed them to Brianna. “There are twenty-four in each booklet; most restaurants will honor them. Just sign on the back of each ticket and give the stub to accounting when the booklet’s empty.” Brianna tucked it in her purse and nodded. They made an appointment with Jim LingLi, or rather, May called her father and told him they were coming. Jack and Brianna headed out of the building toward the “A” tram, the one that led past the trailer park and went to the morgue. On the corner, Brianna checked to see if the shoeshine boy was there, but whether because of the cold or because it was too early in the morning, he was nowhere to be seen. Brianna wasn’t sure what to expect. She knew that Mr. Ling-Li was ancient. He was over two hundred years old. He was a necromancer, which meant nothing to her, and he’d

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brought Jack back from the dead which was both gratifying and horrifying. He was May’s father, and May was not her favorite person in the world. May exasperated her. She was too lovely, too know-it-all, and too interested in Jack. And too perfect for Jack. Brianna couldn’t help wondering if Jim Ling-Li had made Jack for his daughter, hoping that he’d be the zombie of her dreams. She shook her head. She had to stop thinking that. But she couldn’t. It was always in the back of her mind when she saw May. Mr. Ling-Li had tea waiting for them. It was an ancient tea set, almost as old as he was, he joked as he poured the fragrant tea into the nearly translucent cups. They were pale green, and looked like they had been made of paper, not china. The tea was pale green too, and was both warming and refreshing. “This is wonderful tea, Mr. Ling-Li,” said Brianna. Jim Ling-Li beamed. “It’s one of my mixtures. I call it cold sky tea, because I like to drink it on cold, clear days. When it rains, I make cloud drop tea, or if it’s very dark and blustery, I’ll brew some orange sun tea. It brightens the day.” Jack made polite noises, but Brianna could tell he wasn’t interested in small talk about tea. She leaned forward and said, “Mr. Ling-Li, we think we’ve found the Heart Taker.” His thin face broke into a wide smile. “Tell me about it, Jack.” “He’s a surgeon, and he steals hearts, cutting them out as carefully as if he’s going to use them again.” “Yes, yes. I thought so. When you came to me, your wounds were very precise.” Mr. Ling-Li sipped his tea noisily and looked up at Brianna. His eyes were as bright as rainwashed pebbles. “You are angry. You think I should have said something before.” Brianna was startled. She didn’t think she was so transparent. “Yes, I do think you should have told someone,” she conceded. “I told the police. It is in my report. But that would not have helped. Even if we knew his name, it would not have helped. He is too strong, you see. But perhaps you know why he needs the hearts? Is he keeping someone alive, then?” Jack choked on his tea. “You knew?” Mr. Ling-Li turned to him, surprised. “I thought of that, of course. But again, as long as no one could move as quickly as he, it was useless to speculate. Now we can.” “Is it easy to make a zombie?” Jack set his teacup down hard, winced, and checked it for a crack. “Don’t worry. The cup is stronger than it looks,” said Mr. Ling-Li, noting Jack’s rueful glance. “Yes, if you have the right ingredients, it is easy to make a zombie. But it is extremely difficult to make a zombie that lasts, and it is clear that if the Heart Taker cannot keep a heart beating for more than a few months at a time, he has no talent.” Brianna felt bile rising. “So what can his wife be like?” she whispered.

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“His wife?” Mr. Ling-Li frowned. Jack told him their theory -- that the Heart Taker had reanimated his wife and made her into a zombie, using hearts he stole to keep her alive. “This changes things somewhat,” said Mr. Ling-Li. “He’s using hearts to keep someone beloved alive. It makes him very dangerous and determined, and will make catching him particularly difficult.” “Excuse me, but can you explain how to make a zombie? Just what exactly is a necromancer?” Brianna had to know. Mr. Ling-Li poured them all some more tea and leaned back. “I will tell you my story, so you will know all about necromancy and zombies. You should hear this too, Jack, as it concerns you directly.” “I have the diary of a zombie, but it says very little in it about making zombies,” said Jack. “That’s because it’s not something that we want people to know how to do. It’s very, very dangerous,” said Mr. Ling-Li seriously. “More dangerous than you can imagine.”

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Chapter Twenty-One How to Make a Zombie in Three Hundred Easy Steps Mr. Ling-Li paused and cupped his hands beneath his chin. He looked infinitely old, wise, and sorrowful. He caught Brianna’s glance and smiled. “Necromancy is one of the oldest arts. It was present in ancient Egypt, where the most extensive writings about it exist. But, it was also present in Ur and Sumeria, and in Africa and China, where it was practiced by priests and witch doctors, scholars and laymen alike. You know it best by its connection to voodoo, which is the African branch of this art. I come from China, where my family practiced necromancy for fifty generations. Since we all live more than five hundred years, you can see that it is very much part of my existence, present in the very matrix of my being. “A necromancer, in the simplest form, is simply a mortician. Someone who prepares the dead for the funeral, makes the dead look presentable, and changes the body using chemicals or herbs. But that is not what I am, although traditionally we work as morticians. “In a more complex form, a necromancer is a like a priest. One who accompanies the dead to the underworld and shows their souls the way. The ancient Egyptians preserved the mummies. That also is a form of necromancy. And much of necromancy involves herbs and poisons.” “Is that how to make zombies? With herbs?” “Oh, much more than just herbs. In the beginning, someone lost a beloved and wanted to bring them back to life. The Greeks have a legend about Orpheus. He went to the underworld to beg Hades for his wife’s soul. Hades gave it to him, but Orpheus looked back, his beloved wife faded back into the underworld, and Orpheus went mad with grief. The longing to bring back someone from the dead is an old one, certainly far older than the

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legend of Orpheus, but the story illustrates both the longing and the dangers of such a dream.” Brianna curled her hands around her hot teacup. “I thought that it was just a voodoo thing,” she admitted. “Oh, no, zombies have different names in different places. Zombi is also the name of the voodoo snake god of Niger-Congo origin; it is akin to the Bantu word nzambi, which means god. But the word ‘god’ here is closer to ‘spirit,’ or one who talks to spirits, than your definition. And to tell you the truth, what you call zombies have nothing to do with Jack or May.”

May again. Brianna pasted a bright smile on her face and said, “Mostly we think of zombies as being mindless slaves in decaying bodies.” “That’s because there are many different ways to make a zombie, and the easiest way is for a bokor, or zombie maker, to poison his victim, steal his soul, put it in a clay pot, and use the zombie’s body as his slave. Some people claim zombies are caused by a virus, and again, it’s true up to a point. There have been zombies made after contracting a certain virus, but they are not the same as what I do. You see, a bokor, or someone who makes zombies like the Heart Taker has, is not a necromancer. No, that involves something completely different. “Some believe that necromancy is the most powerful of all magic, because it defeats even death itself. Jack is technically what you call an undead, but still has his soul. And for that, he is different from the other undead, such as vampires or bokor-made zombies.” Jack dropped his teacup. It spilled, but still didn’t break. His expression, as he picked up the deceptively fragile-looking cup, was incredulous. “I still have a soul?” Jim Ling-Li leaned forward over the low table. “When I was born, my father went to see an astrologer to cast my horoscope. She predicted that I would follow in my family’s footsteps. I would take my father’s place. And the village rejoiced, for having a necromancer insured that the dead would stay buried, and the undead would not bother them, and if, by chance, someone was murdered, they would be able to tell their story so that the murderer would be caught. Necromancers can talk to the dead. We can go to the spirit world and call a spirit back to his or her body. We can mend broken souls, and we can make sure that the dead stay buried by accompanying the spirit to the gates of the underworld. Your soul still belongs to you, Jack. I did not steal your soul, nor would I ever steal a soul.” “None of that is supposed to exist,” said Jack. “Or maybe it does, but I don’t believe in any of it.” “Not in heaven, or hell, or God?” Brianna wasn’t sure if she believed in any of that, either, but she’d been raised a good Catholic girl, which was why she figured she’d felt so guilty when she pulled men’s pants down. “None of it.” Jack shrugged. “But if Mr. Ling-Li has actually been to these places and met God, maybe I’ll start believing.”

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Jim Ling-Li’s voice was faintly disapproving. “It’s not as easy as that. Life, death, and the afterworld are not as clear-cut as you may think. In some places and in some people, they can overlap. I never met God, or the devil, but I have no doubt that good and evil exist. Therefore, if God is the manifestation of good, and if the devil is the physical manifestation of evil, they surely exist. The afterworld is like a bus station. It is vast, echoing, and full of different branches leading to different destinations and thousands of lost souls. It is also a place where I find the souls of the dead to help them. Some stay for a long time, and some vanish, going someplace else, but I don’t know where they go. A necromancer is someone whose art permits them to visit the afterworld and speak to the dead. They also reanimate dead bodies, creating what you call zombies, but what have been called golums, or Zhoumouns, or shadow walkers. A necromancer, like the ancient Egyptians, knows the art of preserving flesh.” “Why did Jack have to spend a whole year in his grave?” Brianna wanted to know. “His soul took a great deal of persuading. I had to agree to let it reflect. There were many things it had to consider. There was also the question of his strength and talent. The longer he waited, the stronger he would grow. There is a sort of healing in rest, and he needed much rest in order to overcome his ordeal.” “You spoke to my soul?” Jack looked incredulous. He made to pick up his cup, stopped, and very delicately took it between his thumb and forefinger. It shattered. “I’m sorry!” Jim Ling-Li waved dismissively. “It is of no importance. Enough pain and everything breaks, even the strongest of teacups or souls.” Brianna felt he hadn’t told them enough. “I’d like to know more about your, um, business, and why Jack’s soul needed so much persuading. How do you influence a soul to do your bidding?” “More tea? Hold out your cup. Let’s see, where was I? Oh, yes. My childhood ended, and I became apprenticed to my grandfather. I learned the art of necromancy and worked in my village. I married a kind and funny woman, and we had May. When the war came, the world changed, and technology made necromancers obsolete and even forbidden. We left China for a free world, and along the way, I lost my beloved wife. When May and I settled here, at the turn of the century, life was much different. But some things never change. People live and they die. My art was needed here, especially as the undead are common in this area. I was asked to many a funeral to make sure the dead would not walk again. “When May was killed by a vampire, I went to bid her soul farewell, as is custom for me. But she begged me to bring her back. She promised to be patient, as Jack was, and finally, I agreed. She is what you call a zombie, and I’ve never regretted bringing her back. But, and this is vital, the soul has to agree to come back. My wife’s soul wanted to stay dead. She and I said farewell in the afterworld. Perhaps we will meet again. But until then, I had to respect her wishes. It is a rare soul who agrees to return, and to force one to return, as the Heart Taker has certainly done, is an abomination.”

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“So what about vampires?” Brianna was fascinated. Jim Ling-Li’s voice was deep, calm, and mysterious, and she found herself completely spellbound by his story. “Their souls wait in the afterworld. Most have been violently ripped from their mooring, and it is painful to see and hear them. There are the lost souls too, the ones of murder victims. But there are no more necromancers to speak to them and soothe them, and find out the truth behind their deaths.” “You mean, you can solve any murder?” Brianna saw the advantages of such a talent for a detective. Maybe necromancy should be required study. “Only if I can speak to the spirit before it leaves for the underworld, and they don’t stay around very long. Perhaps one or two days in the case of a violent murder. But mostly, the soul, deeply shocked, leaves right away. Only strong souls stay around hoping to communicate. And it’s a rare spirit talker who can hear them.” Jack looked startled. Then he shifted in his chair and said, “Can the spirits confer this power on someone? Like, say, your own ancestors?” Jim Ling-Li nodded. “Your own ancestors can always find you. There is a very important link between family members. They can appear to you in a dream, perhaps, and give you this gift. Did this happen to you, Jack? I have to tell you that your spirit family is very strong, and that was part of the reason I had such a hard time convincing your soul to return.” Brianna held her breath, and Jack said, “Yes.” She felt like someone had just kicked her in the stomach. She felt ill. He hadn’t told her. He hadn’t said anything about it. She felt left out, left out of the conversation and left out of Jack’s life -- or afterlife, whatever. He hadn’t even wanted to return. Mr. Ling-Li had to beg him. Her mood darkened, sadness settling like a wet blanket over her shoulders. “You never would have agreed to return, if I hadn’t used an important argument,” said Mr. Ling-Li. Brianna frowned and heard herself churlishly demand, “And what was that? The argument of the girl of his dreams?” She was thinking of May, convinced that Jim Ling-Li had used his gorgeous daughter as bait. “Why, yes,” said Mr. Ling-Li. Brianna stood up. Enough was enough. May and Jack were obviously meant to be together. Why fight it? She grabbed her coat from the chair and picked up her purse. “That’s nice,” she said. “I suppose you’ll be getting the wedding announcement ready. Congratulations. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Ling-Li. I enjoyed your story very much. Jack, you can come get your things whenever you want.” She started to leave. Jack stood up. “What is it?” “Isn’t it obvious? You didn’t want to come back. Only Mr. Ling-Li’s argument made you change your mind.”

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“Don’t you want to hear what it was?” Mr. Ling-Li seemed to find this all very funny. He had a wide grin on his narrow face. “You promised him your daughter, May,” said Brianna. “Right?” “May?” Jack looked thunderstruck. “Wrong,” said Mr. Ling-Li. “Only true love will work. I spoke to him about you, Brianna.” The air left her lungs. She sat back down. It took a minute for her to get her breath back. “We hardly knew each other,” she whispered. “Don’t you remember how you felt when he died? You came to the morgue. You were at his funeral. I saw it all.” Mr. Ling-Li touched her arm gently. “True love is hard to find, but once you see it, you recognize it forever. My wife and I shared it. And so do you and Jack. He came back for you, Brianna.” She put her hand to her face. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. She did remember how she’d felt. She’d felt as if someone had taken a huge piece of her chest out, like the Heart Taker had done to Jack, only she was still alive. She’d been numb. Numb, empty, lost, and it had taken a year of therapy to get her to where she could finally function and work again. And when Jack had come back, and she’d seen him, she’d been terrified and horrified, but most of all…hopeful. Hope, which had for so long been dead, had been born again, and she’d found herself looking toward the future and not seeing simply a dark, gray wall. “I do remember.” She scrubbed at her cheeks and glared at Jack. “I never want to go through that again, you hear?” He nodded, his expression somber. “I hear.” His mouth quirked in a grin. “I knew there was a good reason I came back. Just chasing after the Heart Taker didn’t sound right.” “You never would have agreed to come back for that,” said Mr. Ling-Li. “Revenge is not part of your makeup.” Brianna got back to her feet. She felt drained, flayed alive, as if her skin had been peeled away. She wanted to lie down, in a soft bed, and cuddle with Jack. The thought brought a smile to her lips. “Shall we go?” Jack stood and shook Mr. Ling-Li’s hand. “Thank you for your time. If you have any ideas about how to go about finding the Heart Taker now that we know who he is and we have a good idea of what he’s doing, please call.” “Of course, I will, Jack. I think that tonight you might get some information. May mentioned that she was going to The Shores with you.” Brianna tried to dredge up a pang of jealousy, but nothing appeared. Not the slightest spark. Jack loved her. He loved her and not May. Mr. Ling-Li hadn’t made Jack to be May’s happily-ever-after-zombie-hubby. May would have to find her own true love. Ha.

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Chapter Twenty-Two What Sally Saw Brianna had forgotten that Dee and Mémé Hoya were at her apartment, so she held onto her idea of a nice cuddle with Jack right up to the moment that she opened the door, and Jack said, “Hi, Sally,” to thin air. Brianna peered at the spot Jack was looking at, but no matter how she strained her eyes, she saw nothing. Not a shadow, not a wisp of mist or vague form that could be Sally, the ghost. She smiled nervously, hung her coat on the hook, and set her purse and the files she’d brought from MUCI on the bookcase near the door. Then she noticed the smell. It was a delightful smell that tickled the nose and lured her into the kitchen, where Mémé Hoya stood by the stove stirring a large pot. “Oh, what is that?” Brianna asked, leaning over to sniff. “Just curried rice and beans, but I always grate coconut into it, so it smells good.” Mémé Hoya tapped the wooden spoon on the edge of the pot and put the top back on. “I have a chicken baking in the oven too. I thought you and Jack would like a nice meal.” “How’s Dee?” Brianna felt guilty that she’d forgotten about him. “He’s going to be fine. He’s in the room you gave me, and I’m going to find somewhere else to sleep tonight. Don’t worry. I can call…” “You can sleep on the couch. It’s perfectly comfortable,” Brianna said firmly. “Well, where will Jack…” Mémé Hoya stopped and cleared her throat. “Well, thank you, Brianna. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” Mémé Hoya shook her head. “You were living peacefully all on your own when the refugees arrived.”

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“I was living miserably on my own,” said Brianna. “Peacefully, but miserable all the same. I love having you and Jack here. And I’m glad Dee’s here too, and that he’s recuperating. He gave Jack a job and gave me a place to hide from the Heart Taker, so I owe him. I owe you and Sally a lot too. You helped bring Jack back from the afterworld. I saw him when the veil came off. Only Sally could have done that.” “No, a talented necromancer like Jim Ling-Li can do it too, but to tell the truth, girl, no one can do it better and with more finesse than a loa.” Mémé Hoya smiled fondly. Brianna’s mouth was watering. She’d had nothing but tea for lunch. Jack drifted into the kitchen too, lured by the smell of curry and coconut. “Why don’t you set the table, Jack, and I’ll go see Dee,” said Brianna. He nodded. “Excuse me, Sally, you’re in front of the dish cupboard.”

***** Brianna was glad to see Dee sitting up and looking better. His color was good, and he grinned and patted the bed when she came in the room. “Brianna! Have a seat. I have to talk to you.” She sat. Dee took her hands and said very seriously, “I want to thank you for opening your house and letting me stay here.” Embarrassed, Brianna blinked. “It’s my pleasure, really.” She felt her cheeks turning pink. She rather liked coming home and finding dinner cooking and having people and ghosts about. Well, she could do without the ghost, actually. She would rather be able to see her guests. “I’ll be out of here tomorrow anyway. I have to get back to the club. Halloween night was a terrific success, except for my attempted murder, and the news has made the club even more popular, if you can imagine. Suki is running it while I’m out of commission, and he says that last night it was packed.” “Oh.” Brianna was a bit taken aback. She was so used to avoiding danger that the idea of purposely going someplace because a terrifying serial killer had been seen there seemed foolish to her. Which reminded her. Since Jack had come back, she hadn’t been in any real danger, unless she counted the Heart Taker’s threat, which may or may not have been serious. She hadn’t come face-to-face with anyone trying to kill her lately. Unless she counted the Heart Taker. But he hadn’t found her, thanks to Dee’s safe room, and instead, he’d tried to kill Dee. She felt it was a tiny bit her fault that Dee had gotten stabbed. “Dinner smells good,” said Dee. “Mémé Hoya has been cooking all day.” “Are you coming to the table to eat?” “No, doctor’s orders. No solid food for a week. Mémé Hoya said she’d bring me some soup.” He sounded mournful, then brightened. “I can have ice cream, though. She said she got some fudge swirl. My favorite.”

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After dinner, Jack took his shower and got ready to go to The Shores while Brianna and Dee played a game of Scrabble against Mémé Hoya and Sally. Brianna set up the card table next to Dee’s bed, and she perched on it next to him, while Mémé Hoya dragged up an armchair and sat facing them. They had just started playing, and Brianna had just finished telling Dee and Mémé Hoya what Jack and she had found out about the Heart Taker, when Mémé Hoya frowned and said, “What did you say child?” Brianna started to explain again, when she realized Mémé Hoya was talking to Sally. Mémé Hoya listened intently and said, “Yes, I think it might be important.” She leaned over the board and put her word “acrobat” on a double word score, using the “T” from Dee’s word. “Sally thinks she might know where the Heart Taker goes shopping. When we used to live in the trailer park, she’d go and hang out at the grocery store. Remember? I told you she loves the produce department. Well, a couple times she saw something strange. A couple times, she saw the bananas disappear. She saw other things vanish too, but she mostly watched the fruit and vegetables.” “Can the Heart Taker see spirits? Did he see Sally?” Mémé Hoya tilted her head, looking at a spot next to her, and said, “Sally says no, he’s not an undead or a spirit talker. He’s mutant, and he can’t see her. Besides, she can’t see him either.” “So how does she know he can’t see her?” Mémé Hoya shrugged. “Sally says he didn’t see her because she was sitting right on the banana pile when a bunch disappeared. If you put your arm through a ghost, you usually say, ‘Excuse me.’ He just reached right through her, so she’s sure he can’t see her.” Brianna started to get a tingly feeling in her bones. “That probably means the Heart Taker lives in the trailer park somewhere.” Mémé Hoya patted the air next to her. “Thank you, Sally. You’ve been very helpful. Do you have a word yet, Brianna?” Brianna tried to make a word with her letters, but “snggsfe” wasn’t a word. Dee reached over, and using the first “a” from “acrobat,” made “fangs.” “The ‘F’ is on a triple letter score,” he said with satisfaction. A foghorn sounded, and Brianna looked out the window. Night had fallen. The air was deep blue, and stars glittered in the clear sky. Down below, on the river, barges moved slowly, dark water curling at their bows. Jack came in, his hair still wet from the shower. They told him what Sally had seen, and he nodded thoughtfully and gave Brianna a lingering kiss before leaving. The feel of his lips on hers lasted until she went to bed, wrapped up in his T-shirt, her head on his pillow, her feelings of jealousy toward May finally laid to rest.

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Mémé Hoya and Sally had won the Scrabble game, three hundred and twenty to one hundred and sixty-five.

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Chapter Twenty-Three The Watcher Stepping out of the door, Jack paused and looked down the hill toward the docks. They bustled with movement, even at night, as barges were loaded and unloaded. Strings of naked lightbulbs strung along the wharfs made the area look almost festive, while the sound of cranes and forklifts rose over the shouts of men and the steady, oddly reassuring thrum of the barges’ diesel motors. Since the area was busy, he had no trouble finding a cab to take him downtown. He got out at Dee’s club. He wanted to stop in and tell Suki and everyone how Dee was doing. There was a crowd, but Chloe and Davinia gave screams of delight when they saw him and rushed over to give him hugs and kisses…much to his surprise. “You were fantastic the other night. Everyone has been asking about the next show. As soon as Dee’s up on his feet, we’re having a party.” Holding her tray above her head, Chloe did a quick dance step and trotted off to serve the drinks she carried. “How is Dee? He called us this morning, but we haven’t been to see him yet,” said Davinia. “We were all worried sick about him.” “He’s fine. He can’t wait to get back here.” Jack dodged a couple who were disco dancing, said good-bye to Davinia, and headed toward the bar to see Suki, but the crowd was too great. All he could do was wave from a distance. The noise and lights were starting to get to him, so he waved to Suki again and headed out the door. Arnaud, the bouncer, gave him a slap on the back, nearly dislocating his arm. Jack grabbed it just in time to keep it in place. “I’ve had to kick three people out so far,” Arnaud said. “The place is really hopping.” “Great,” said Jack, hoping that kicking people out was a good sign. From Arnaud’s expression, it must be. He was beaming. “Well, see you later, then.”

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“Later, Jack!” Arnaud crossed his muscular arms over his massive chest and took his stance by the door. Jack headed down the street. It was chilly out. People hurried through the night, coats clutched tightly, white breath pluming from their mouths as they laughed. The streetlights cast pale puddles of light on the ground, making broken glass glitter where someone had thrown a beer bottle and missed the trashcan. But as Jack neared The Shores, the streetlights seemed to cast little or no light at all. The dark didn’t bother him anymore. He saw into the shadows. As he turned the corner into Cheery Alley, he saw a shadow hiding in the gloom near the door leading to The Shores. He stopped. The shadow stayed motionless. So did Jack. After a few minutes, the shadow tilted its head a bit, as if trying to make out what was the matter. Jack didn’t move. He heard footsteps behind him, but he didn’t turn. The footsteps drew level to him. “Good evening,” said a cultured voice. Jack took his eyes off the shadow just a split second, to reply to the greeting, and the shadow vanished. He turned to the man standing in next to him and looked up. The man was tall. He wore a black cape and had shoulder-length blond hair. If Jack had to imagine what a Viking looked like, it would have been like this. Except for the cloak. This man should have had a fur vest and a bronze sword. “Uh, good evening,” said Jack, taking a step backward. “Going to The Shores?” the man asked in his soft, alluring voice. “Why, yes, but I saw something over there.” “Something?” “I’m not sure what it was. Not a cat. It was about this high.” Jack held his hand about four feet off the ground. “It was just standing near the door.” “You saw the watcher?” The man lifted an elegant eyebrow. “You must have keen eyesight.” “The watcher?” “We call him that. Though, to be truthful, it may be a her. No one has ever spoken to the watcher. No one knows where he came from. Some say the watcher came with the stones.” “The stones?” “The Shores was built from stones belonging to an ancient bridge near the shores of a lake. When the bridge was built, a child was killed and put into the foundation. That is the watcher.” “A child was killed?” Jack felt like a parrot, but he couldn’t help himself. The man was fascinating, with his arctic blue eyes, wide smile, and sharp fangs. “You’re a vampire!” The man blinked. “How can you tell?”

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“Uh, fangs?” Jack licked his lips nervously. Was it polite to tell a vampire his fangs were showing? “And just what are you?” the vampire asked, leaning over closer. His nostrils flared. “No blood. No heartbeat. Undead, yet I sense a soul. How curious. An undead with a soul still intact. I wonder how it is kept within you.” “It wanted to stay,” said Jack stiffly. If eyebrows could climb off a head this guy would be in trouble. Then a ferocious glint appeared in his eyes, and he lifted the corner of his upper lip, baring one needle-sharp fang. “So, a necromancer made you. There is but one alive today with that talent. Jim Ling-Li. I have heard of his daughter, the vampire killer, May, but I haven’t heard of you. Are you made to kill vampires too?” And if looks could kill, Jack would be toast right now. “No, I was made to catch the Heart Taker.” Expressions darted over the vampire’s face, finally settling on wary interest. “That will be quite a feat, seeing as no one can see him,” he said. “I have keen eyesight, like you said.” Jack didn’t know if the vampire was friendly or not, or what protocol was involved when meeting one, but he decided that his own manners would have to do. He stuck his hand out. “Jack Severn,” he said. “Nice to meet you.” A real smile danced across the vampire’s face, and he shook Jack’s hand. “Bartholomew Aelfrith, at your service.” He withdrew his hand and gave a bow. Everything about Bartholomew, Jack thought, was both refined and charismatic. He’d never met another vampire, so he couldn’t compare them, but if they were all like this, he could imagine why they were popular as heroes in novels. He nodded toward the alley. “I have to go. I’m meeting someone.” “Who, if I might enquire?” Jack shrugged. “May Ling-Li. She has some information for me about the Heart Taker.” The friendly expression vanished. “The vampire killer,” he said, his voice frosty. “Perhaps I’ll go elsewhere tonight. Good evening, Jack Severn. I hope we shall meet again.” Before Jack could reply, Bartholomew folded his cloak around his shoulders and lifted into the night, turning into a small bat as he fluttered away. Now that was an interesting sight, Jack thought. The watcher was nowhere to be seen, and Jack went to the front door of The Shores and knocked.

***** May saw him as he walked in, and she waved him over. She sat alone in a small booth, and Jack found himself wondering if she had any friends or any life at all outside of her work. He also decided not to ask her. He had a feeling she could easily kill him if she wanted

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to. Despite her small stature and fragile appearance, he was more cautious of her than of the tall, broad-shouldered vampire. “Good evening,” he said, as he slid into his seat. To the waitress he said, “I’ll have a glass of red wine, please.” May wore jeans and a hot pink, fluffy sweater, and she looked ravishing. Her pale, oval face seemed more tense than usual, but when he asked her what was wrong, she shook her head. “Nothing.” “What was the news you wanted to tell me?” She shook her head. “No news. I wanted you to meet some mutants who had contact with the Heart Taker.” “Contact?” Jack looked up as his drink arrived and thanked the waitress. Taking the glass he took a sip. “Ah, here they are.” May stood up and made a sign with her hand. Jack turned and saw two very scruffy individuals. They slunk along the wall, nodded fearfully to Jack, sat in the two remaining chairs, and hunched over the table. “This is Little Wolf and Gray Wolf,” said May. Aside to Jack she whispered, “They are very old mutants from the reservation. They are werewolves, and they don’t really like coming into the city. But it would be too risky right now to go into the trailer park where they live.” “Pleased to meet you,” said Jack, looking at them closely. To May, he asked, “Why don’t they live on the reservation?” “The Native Americans believe werewolves are the guardians of the sacred burial grounds. The trailer park is built on one such ground, and Little Wolf and Gray Wolf are the appointed guardians.” May spoke with deference. Jack looked more carefully at the two werewolves. If May hadn’t told him, he would have thought they were two homeless beggars. Their clothes were rags, and they smelled, well, like wet dogs. They stared fixedly at the table and didn’t meet his eyes at all. When he did manage to catch a glimpse of their eyes, he saw they were yellow, like a wolf’s eyes. A shiver ran down his back. The waitress brought them their drinks directly. Either they were regulars, or all werewolves drank the same thing. It looked like red wine, but he wasn’t sure since it was served in a beer mug. They sat in silence for a while. The two werewolves relaxed bit by bit, and as the time passed, they stopped looking quite so ragged and rough, and started to shed their shyness. The candle sputtered, the light wavered, and finally the one called Little Wolf looked up, took a deep breath, and said, “It takes longer and longer.” “How many years has it been since you’ve taken human form?” May asked. Little Wolf shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe five or six winters. Time is blurred nowadays.”

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Jack couldn’t contain his curiosity. “You stay in wolf form?” Little Wolf’s yellow eyes flashed with humor, and he smiled, showing white, even teeth. “Most people think we’re big dogs. Our job is to protect the sacred grounds.” “What exactly are the sacred grounds?” Jack wanted to know. “Where our ancestors have always been buried.” The other werewolf, Gray Wolf, spoke up, his voice a low growl. “The Native Americans know that there are places on earth that overlap the underworld. The sacred grounds are such places. They are doorways, if you like. We must guard them so that the dead stay dead, and so the spirits stay in their world. Most of the time, they don’t wish to leave. But there are always meddlers who try to lure them back, or evil spirits who wish to cause mischief. So we keep the guard.” “It’s easier to do in wolf form. We need less to eat, we can see better, hear better, and run faster than in human form. And that is how we heard the Weeper.” “The Weeper?” Here I go again, echoing everyone, thought Jack. Gray Wolf took another sip of his drink and nodded somberly. “The Weeper is a spirit held against its will. Sometimes zombies are made that way. The bokor takes the man’s spirit, keeps it in a clay jar, and the body becomes the bokor’s slave.” “Seems everyone knew that but me,” said Jack, trying not to glare at May. He should have had a handbook with him when he woke up. Jim Ling-Li could have put one in his pocket or something. Not that he’d been in any shape to sit down and read when he crawled out of the grave. He shuddered. “Right. So this Weeper is a spirit who has been captured. What does that have to do with the Heart Taker?” Little Wolf bared his teeth, very much like an angry dog. “We wondered how the Weeper’s body was kept alive. We passed in front of the trailer many times, thinking it was perhaps a mistake. The spirit might be lost, we argued, or maybe there was a new bokor in the park we didn’t know. So we took to keeping an eye out. The Weeper still weeps, and food appears, but no one sees anything. So we think perhaps the Heart Taker has an interest in this Weeper, and comes and visits and gives it food.” Jack suddenly felt ill. A wave of ice crashed over him. “The Weeper is his wife,” he said. He turned to May. “The Weeper is his wife. We have to tell Jeffrey. Sally said she saw bananas disappear in the store near the trailer park.” Ignoring May’s baffled look, he turned back to Gray Wolf. “How does one lead a spirit back to the underworld?” Gray Wolf lifted his head and looked thoughtfully at Jack. “First, one has to free it from the bokor’s power. Then, you have to be very careful.” “Because they are so fragile?” Jack asked. The wolf looked surprised. “No, because they are so strong.”

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Chapter Twenty-Four May’s Play Jack and May left The Shores by the back door. Jack wasn’t paying attention. He’d already forgotten it was a demon door. He thought they’d end up by MUCI, and he’d grab the tram back to Brianna’s apartment. But the place he found himself in was unfamiliar. He looked around. It was in the old neighborhood, not too far from Brianna’s place, but nowhere near the tram station. He sighed in annoyance. He’d have a hike to get back to the A line, and he was tired. “You look exhausted.” May took him by the arm, his good arm, and began to walk. “Let’s go have a quick drink. You’ll feel better.” “I’d rather head back.” Jack wondered how to disengage his arm without hurting her feelings. “Here’s my place. I live in one of the oldest buildings in the city.” She pointed to a medium-sized brick building with nice lines and an interesting porch. “You’re interested in architecture. You should have a look someday. Well, goodnight, Jack. Have a good weekend. I’ll see you on Monday.” “Goodnight, May.” She hadn’t made a pass at him. Excellent. He didn’t want any complications. He put his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders against the cold. He would have to hurry. The last tram would leave the station, and he didn’t have enough money for cab fare. Just as he took a step he heard a snap, a crunch, and May say, “Oh, no!” Turning back, he saw May sitting halfway up her steps, holding onto her foot. “What happened?” he asked. “My heel broke. That’ll teach me to buy cheap shoes. I didn’t have my brace on, and now my foot came off.” She made a wry face. “The one pitfall of my zombie life.”

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“Can I help?” Jack knew how awkward it could be sometimes getting the limb back on just right. An arm didn’t much matter, but a foot was important because of the weight on it. “No, I’m fine. Been doing this for ages. You better hurry.” May gave a little wave and bent forward to fix her foot, but she dropped her purse, and its contents spilled down the steps. Jack was struck by her expression. She looked thunderstruck. She was someone who couldn’t deal with the little, everyday snags of life, he decided. She was so used to being perfect and having everything going her way, that when she hit a problem, she fell apart. He felt sorry for her. Her cheeks were crimson. “Here, let me get this,” he said. Jack trotted up the steps, grabbed her purse, and swept everything back in it. He was amazed by the amount of makeup she had. There were little satin wallets too, whose contents could only be guessed at. Jewelry? Pills? Not aspirin, surely. He found a key chain and handed it to her. “Here.” “Thanks.” She still clutched her shoe in one hand. She looked lost and miserable and very small sitting on the steps. She got up and hobbled to the door. “Can I help you?” “Well, if you insist. Take my purse. Thank you. It’s very sweet of you, Jack. Can you hold the door open for me? It’s heavy. Thanks. And my apartment is right here, ground floor.” She flicked on a light switch, and a huge chandelier illuminated the hallway. Rich, polished wood lined the walls, and the floor was black marble. It was an impressive entrance. May’s door was to the right. She opened it and hopped inside. “Come on in. I’ll call you a cab.” “I don’t have any cash,” said Jack. “I can lend you some.” She shrugged. “If you want to wait in the hallway, you can. Hold on while I get my brace.” Her cheeks were still bright, and Jack wondered why she was so embarrassed about her ankle. “This is a nice apartment,” he said, stepping inside. May switched on some lamps. There were no overhead lamps, just small spots of light in strategic places, but the high ceilings gave the impression of space. It was an L-shaped studio, he saw, with an open kitchen, a cozy living area facing a large, bay window, and a bedroom area in the far corner surrounded by curtains. In the back of the room were wall-to-wall bookcases and an enormous fish tank where three fish swam. “Just put the purse on the table there. I’ll call a cab.” She went to the living area and sat on the plush, honey-colored sofa. The whole apartment was done in black and gold tones that suited May’s personality. “Can I get you a drink?” she asked, holding the phone to her ear. “Yes, I’d like a cab, please. Two-twenty-two Downing Street. One passenger. Yes, that’s right. Downtown, to the dock area.” She raised her eyebrows at Jack. He nodded. “Fine. Thank you.” She hung up. “He’ll be here in about twenty minutes.” She fiddled with her

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foot, then stood and gave him a bright smile. “Much better. Now, what can I get you? I have some excellent fruit juice. It will help replenish your strength.” Jack started to say he was fine, but thought the better of it. He’d been raised to be polite. “That would be great.” “I’m just going to be a minute.” She went into the bathroom, and Jack sat down on the chair, with his back to the bay window. May came back in, bringing him the drink on a tray. “Here.” She sat on the couch and crossed her legs. She had taken off her fluffy pink sweater and was wearing a skinny little top that showed off her breasts. She’d also taken her pants off and wore a short skirt. Seeing Jack’s glance, she said, “I tore my pants when I fell.” She made a face. “I’m never clumsy. It was those stupid shoes. The heel just snapped right off.” Jack wasn’t sure what to say. He sipped his drink. May watched him intently for a minute. Jack started to get very uncomfortable. “This is delicious,” he said. “Um…what is it?” “Guava, passion fruit, and tangerine juice.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “I’m so glad you came in, Jack. I haven’t had a guest in ages.” The uncomfortable feeling grew. “Maybe you work too much?” “That’s exactly the problem. Vampires are a plague among us. I spend my time hunting down those vermin.” May shuddered. “Horrible creatures. A stake through the heart’s too good for them.” “I suppose it’s normal you feel that way, seeing that one killed you,” said Jack. May beamed. “You understand. I knew you would.” She put her drink down and sighed. Then she got up and looked over Jack’s shoulder. “I thought I saw the taxi,” she said. Jack turned around to look. The street was empty. “No, it must have been just a car passing by.” She hesitated, then slid onto the chair with him. “Oh, Jack, I’ve been so lonely.” She rested her head lightly on his shoulder. “When my father made you, I couldn’t help but hope that you’d been made for me.” “I’m in love with Brianna,” he said, trying to sound firm, yet sympathetic. “She’s human.” May drew back and looked at him almost accusingly. “You can’t chain her to you. That wouldn’t be fair. I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Jack sputtered. “Your father said…” “My father is very protective of me. He doesn’t want me going out with anyone. He will try to keep us apart. But only until you prove your love for me.” May flung her arms around him. “Jack, say you’ll be mine.” “I don’t think this is a good idea.” Jack tried to stand up, but she had latched onto his weak arm. “Please stay the night. Give me a chance.” Tears trembled on the edge of her lashes.

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“I really better leave. Oh, there’s my taxi!” There was nothing, but he pointed anyway. “Don’t be silly. I didn’t call a taxi.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You’re so handsome. I fell in love with you the second I saw you.” “That’s a bad reason to love someone. Looks don’t last.” Jack tried to stand again, but she wrestled him down on the chair. “They do if you’re a zombie. Face it, Jack, I’m right for you. Brianna is all wrong.” Jack had heard enough. He wrenched out of her clutches. Unfortunately, his arm stayed in May’s grip. “I’m leaving. Give me back my arm.” “No. You can just leave without it.” Her face contracted in rage, her eyes blazed. “Give me my arm.” Jack tried to make his voice reasonable, but May was having none of it. “You want your arm? Fine. Here’s your arm!” She stood up, wrenched open the window, and flung it out. Jack tried to summon up his super speed. After all, it had worked on the stage of The Purple Dee when his arm had flown off. But maybe panic jump-started it and not simple anger. He was pissed at May, but not panic-stricken. Swearing, he stomped out. She slammed the door behind him with a screech of rage. In the street he stopped and looked for his arm. Where had May thrown it? He looked on the front steps, in the yard, on the sidewalk, and was just about to despair when he caught sight of something. There it was. A dog was making off with it. He swore and sprinted after the dog, but his super speed still eluded him. He would have never caught up except his hand got caught in the fence across the street and after a couple of tugs on his arm, the dog, with a little growl of frustration, let go and ran off. Jack picked up his arm and brushed it off. It didn’t look any worse for wear. There was something about the necromancer’s spell that protected it, he supposed. Swearing some more, he lifted his shirt up and tried to get his arm back in place. A window opened in a nearby building. An elderly lady leaned out. “Hey, you drunken pervert! Put your clothes back on and get off the street!” He glared back at her and realized he’d left his jacket in May’s apartment. Her lights were all off. And there was no way he was going back into her lair. He was lucky to get away with just a banged-up arm. Muttering balefully, Jack headed downtown. It was cold, but walking fast kept him warm. The last tram was delayed, so he managed to catch it. Something, at least, had gone right.

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Chapter Twenty-Five The Weeper Jack thought that they would go get the Heart Taker as soon as possible. He imagined that the two werewolves, guardians of the trailer park, would lead them to the Heart Taker’s home, and they would capture him. Or rather, Jack would capture him. On Monday morning, when he and Brianna went into MUCI, Jeffrey brought him back to reality. “It might not be the best way to capture him,” said Jeffrey. “If there is a zombie, his wife, we should probably have a necromancer with us, which means bringing Jim LingLi. If Jim comes, I know May will insist on coming too.” “Do we really need May and Mr. Ling-Li?” Jack was eager to avoid May at all cost. He hadn’t said anything to Brianna about Saturday night, when he’d come home late without his jacket. She hadn’t asked any questions, but things had been a little stressful around the apartment on Sunday morning. Luckily, Mémé Hoya was around to diffuse the tension and had suggested they go to the outdoor market where Jack and Brianna had first met. It had worked. It had been like the first time they’d met. They couldn’t stop talking and laughing, nor could they keep their hands off each other. He glanced at Brianna, who looked at the floor and blushed. Jeffrey raised his eyebrows. “We can probably do without Mr. Ling-Li, but we definitely need May. Now, if Little Wolf and Gray Wolf point out the Heart Taker’s trailer, they could be in danger themselves, because they can’t see him, but he can certainly see them. He could kill them.” “Not if I can help it,” said Jack. “You can’t protect everyone,” said Jeffrey. “And no one can possibly help you. Bullets are no good, nor anything else I can imagine. We have to have a plan.”

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“Why don’t we send Sally in first?” Brianna asked. “She can case the trailer, and we’ll have an idea of the layout. And she can tell us if he’s there or not by watching to see if he brings food for his wife.” Jack hadn’t thought of that. He also didn’t know if Sally would cooperate. It was worth a try, though. “All right, that sounds like a good idea to start with,” said Jeffrey. And so the plan had been put into action, but a good week went by before Sally could be persuaded to enter the trailer park. All the aluminum in the park bothered her immensely. It took another week before the layout of the trailer was established, and also the Heart Taker’s schedule, which was surprisingly regular.

***** Two weeks flew by while Jack got to know his work better, avoided May, and Brianna and he fell into a routine that was both tiring and satisfying. “It’s against all rules and regulations to be in love with your working partner,” said Brianna one day, as they lay on her bed, a faint sheen of sweat glistening their bodies after a particularly strenuous bout of lovemaking. Brianna’s cheeks were still flushed, and Jack still had that empty, almost shaky feeling he got after an orgasm. He lay still, gathering his strength and his thoughts. At Brianna’s words, Jack lifted his head and stared at her. “Do you think Moosie will separate us?” he wondered. “Because if they do, I’ll quit.” “It’s for our own good,” said Brianna gravely. “I think that after we catch the Heart Taker, they might decide to give us different partners. If they do, I don’t want you to quit. You’re good at this job, Jack, and I can tell you like it.” “I’m a good stripper too.” He’d been in Dee’s club the night before, and he was feeling pretty wiped out, actually. He put his book down. “You just said you were in love with me. Do you mean it?” She grinned. “Yes, I mean it. I’ve wanted to talk to you too, but I keep thinking that maybe you need more time to adjust to life again. Things have moved so fast for you. I didn’t know when the right time was for us to talk.” She shrugged. “I wanted to talk to you too, but I’ve never been good about discussing my emotions.” Jack reached out and touched her hair. “I love you, and I love working with you. I hope you’ll be my partner for always.” She rolled over and cupped her chin in her hands. Serious, sherry-colored eyes studied him thoughtfully. “I love working with you, Jack. But it’s just temporary. The Heart Taker is a special case.”

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“You’ve been talking to Jeffrey behind my back. I don’t want another partner.” He trusted Brianna, he admired her, she was a hell of a cop, and he didn’t think he’d ever get such a good partner. “Not behind your back. I just needed to get some things clear.” “You could have talked to me first.” Her skin flushed. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve known Jeffrey for so long, and I wanted him to know where I stood.” “Before informing me?” Her eyes darkened. “I was hoping you already knew.” They sat together in silence while he thought about that. Her hand crept over and held his. “I guess you didn’t have to tell me. I knew,” he said finally. And it was true. He’d known for a long time, and that, for some reason, made him feel bad. He’d known Brianna was in love with him, but he hadn’t had the courage to talk to her. Part of him was still frightened by what he was. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said. Her hand tightened on his. “You feel like you’re not quite human, so you didn’t dare tell me you love me. It’s partly my fault. I should have talked to you sooner. And I should have spoken to you before I spoke to Jeffrey. I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, he called me, I didn’t call him.” “What else did he say?” She sighed. “His wife took a turn for the worse last night. That’s when I talked to him. You were getting ready for your show, and I didn’t want to distract you when he called.” She sighed. “She probably won’t last the week.” “I’m sorry.” A stab of pity made Jack close his eyes. A soft flutter of lips on his eyelids, and Brianna’s hand stroking his collarbone and neck. “I know what he’s going through.” Her voice was strained. “I lost you once. Life lost its taste for me. I didn’t even realize it until I saw you again.” “And peed your pants.” If he had a heart it would be aching. He didn’t open his eyes, but he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. “I love you, Brianna. I wish I’d told you before.” “I love you too.” She shivered in his arms, pressing herself to him. “The Heart Taker loves his wife too. That’s why he’s so dangerous. I would kill to keep you with me, Jack.” “No, you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t kill. You’re not like the Heart Taker. Don’t feel sorry for him, Brianna. He’s not human. What he’s done is an abomination.” Sorrow was pressing him down. Or maybe it was Brianna, sliding on top of him and kissing him. How could her lips taste so good? Her breasts rubbed his chest, her nipples hard pebbles. He groaned. How could he get so hard so fast? He wanted to possess her. He never wanted to leave her. He ran his hands over her rib cage, stroking her back, taking her face in his hands finally, and delicately tracing her features with his fingertips.

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Her breathing deepened, quickened. She reached down to capture his cock in her hand and guided him into her. She whimpered, a sound half pleasure, half pain, and said, “Don’t move. Just don’t move.” “Are you sore?” “Aren’t you?” There was a sob in her laughter. He opened his eyes. A tear dropped on the corner of his mouth. “Hush.” Because he knew what she was feeling, he wrapped his arms around her, and held her as tightly as he dared. He didn’t move. Even when he felt the wave rising in him, even when he started to come, his cock pulsing, his legs quivering. He didn’t move. “I don’t have a heart, Brianna,” he said, when he could finally speak again. “I don’t have a future to offer you. If I really loved you, I would let you go.” “Why?” Her eyes were luminous. “Because we can never legally marry, and because we can never have children.” He could hardly breathe; the pain of his sorrow was suffocating him. “If you love me, it doesn’t matter if you don’t have a heart.” She took his hand and pressed it to her chest. “There’s a poem I once read that goes, ‘I carry your heart with me.’ And it’s true. I carry your heart. I have it here, in mine.” Her voice broke, and she rolled off him, burying her head in the pillow. “Don’t cry.” He touched her back, rubbing it the way she liked, pushing hard between her shoulder blades. “You’re stuck with me, I guess. I can’t live without you. And who else would help me put my arm back on?” She gave a laugh, muffled by the pillow. “Did it fall off again?” “No.” He sat up. “I’m getting better at being careful with it. Shall we take a shower?” “You first.” She lifted her face from the pillow and gave him a tear-stained smile. “I’m too sore to even think about making love again.” “I only said take a shower.” Her eyebrows rose. “What always happens when we get into a small space together, naked?” “Good point. I’ll go first.” He kissed the tip of her nose and grinned. He was still sad for Jeffrey, but he wasn’t sad for himself anymore. Brianna had his heart. It wasn’t lost anymore.

***** Rain and umbrellas obscured the mourners. Jack and Brianna held hands, and Jack felt guilty, somehow, for having a hand to hold while Jeffrey stood alone by his wife’s grave. The rain battered the umbrellas, and water ran off them in streams. May was there too, slim and straight, her eyes fixed on Jeffrey. Jim Ling-Li stood next to his daughter. He held an umbrella above their heads. Both were as slight as children. Jack recognized other people

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from MUBI and MUCI, and Brianna greeted those she knew from the city police and introduced Jack to them. Names and faces blurred, and the rain didn’t help. They were in the cemetery where, nearly two months earlier, Jack had crawled out of his grave. He was glad to see they were not anywhere near it. Water and mud squelched beneath their shoes, and the cold seeped in, numbing hands and feet. They got in line and passed in front of the coffin, placed their flowers upon it, and murmured words of comfort to Jeffrey, although no words could ever bandage the hurt he must be feeling. But before Jack left, Jeffrey put his hand on his shoulder and said, “In two days.” He closed his mouth, and Jack saw muscles bunch in his jaw. Jeffrey nodded toward Jim Ling-Li. “Talk to him,” he said, and Jack and Brianna picked their way down the gravel path that was soaked and full of puddles, to the entrance. They waited for Jim Ling-Li, and when he came, he was alone. He had the umbrella, though. “Can we talk at my home?” asked Jim Ling-Li, flagging down a passing cab. Water sprayed from its tires, and it didn’t even slow down. The next one stopped, though, and they crowded into the back seat while Jim Ling-Li gave the driver an address not too far from Brianna’s apartment, on the opposite side of the river. His apartment was large and airy, with tall windows overlooking the river. On this side was a park, not the docks, and it was quieter. Jack was not surprised to find the décor East Asian, and there was the sweet smell of incense in the air, as well as the sound of a cricket chirping and birds singing. Jim Ling-Li loved canaries and had three of them. The cricket was in a terrarium near the hearth, of course. Jim Ling-Li made them tea, and this time the service was an old blue and white Delft, and the tea was smoky and rich. “I call this one regretful storm tea,” said Jim Ling-Li, as he poured the steaming liquid into their cups. Jack stared at the window where water streamed down. Christmas was coming soon, and he and Brianna had planned to spend a weekend in the mountains. He was tired of the rain. But first they had to catch the Heart Taker. “You must know why I need to talk to you,” said Jim Ling-Li, setting his cup down and leaning forward a bit in his chair. “May told me what happened between you, Jack.” Brianna gave a start at this and looked at Jack, but she didn’t say anything. “She did?” Jack shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Would the powerful necromancer now undo his zombie magic and kill him? He had to stop making powerful enemies. “She was wrong to try to seduce you,” said Jim Ling-Li. Brianna shot tea out of her nose and spent a while mopping herself up. “Go on. Sorry,” she said. Jim Ling-Li sighed. “She is a lonely person. She is happiest when she is doing what she perceives as her mission in life, and that is killing vampire scum. I hope that someday she will meet someone who can appreciate her for what she is and make her realize that life is to

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be lived, not for revenge.” He smiled sadly. “That’s all I have to say about that regrettable incident. Oh, and your jacket is on the chair near the front door. You can get it before you leave.” “I will. Thanks.” Jack didn’t dare look at Brianna. She coughed again. “What did you want to say to us about the Heart Taker, Mr. LingLi?” He nodded. “According to May, the guardians have located the trailer, and Sally has made a map of the inside. The Heart Taker has indeed made his wife into a zombie, and according to Sally, he keeps her soul in a glass jar.” He sighed and shook his head. “We have to do something soon. May says that in two days everything will be set. Will you be ready, Jack? You are the only one who can catch the Heart Taker before he needs another heart to keep his wife alive, not that she’s really living. What he’s done is not good, not good at all.” “I’m ready,” Jack said.

***** Jeffrey gave them the plan. He was still paler than usual, but he insisted it had to be done. Two months had gone by since the Heart Taker had killed, and he would need a new heart soon. May and Brianna were to go in the front door, and Sally and Jack would go in the back. The two guardians, Gray Wolf and Little Wolf, would be waiting nearby to take the woman’s soul to the gate, once May found the glass jar. If everything went as planned, the wife and her soul would be out of the trailer before the Heart Taker came back, and Jack would grab him and clip the handcuffs on him as he walked in the door. The trailer park had its nice sections. There were areas with some grass and flowerbeds, areas with trees and streetlights, and even areas with bike paths. Doctor Silas Mercury did not live in such a place. The street his trailer was parked on was full of potholes and broken glass. Trees, long dead, leaned precariously over chain link fences, and stray dogs slunk in the trash heaps and snarled. A car on cement blocks stood in one driveway, a rough, orange tomcat crouched on the hood. The rain had stopped, but water glistened on the wires overhead, and puddles in the street reflected the zinc-colored sky. Jack saw the guardians and was amazed that anyone could mistake them for stray dogs. Huge, sure-footed, and quiet, they glided along the dirt path that would have been a sidewalk in another neighborhood. The Heart Taker’s trailer was in a cul-de-sac where once upon a time someone had put in a cement flower box next to the driveway. Nothing but stones and cigarette butts were in it now. The trailers on either side were dilapidated as well, and the streetlights had long ago been broken or dismantled. An awning over the front door tilted to the side, and rain had rusted every bit of unpainted metal on the trailer. Jack watched as Brianna and May approached the front door. According to the schedule Sally had given Jeffrey, the Heart

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Taker would be at the supermarket. Jack waited until Brianna and May were in place before he slipped around to the back. Sally stood by the back door, her small, triangular face tense. Jack had no idea how Sally got anywhere. She simply appeared. Mémé Hoya had tried to explain how Sally navigated using a sort of spirit-underworld tunnel system, but Jack couldn’t understand how it worked. However, it did work, and Sally was waiting for him. She faded through the back door as he arrived; then her little arm appeared, and she motioned him in. He turned the handle. The door was unlocked. Jack slipped inside. The inside was nothing like the outside. Everything was neat. Not a speck of dust anywhere. The back door opened onto a laundry room where clothes were neatly folded and where the smell of laundry detergent pervaded. The difference was so surprising that Jack stopped and stared. Sally tugged at his hand. Not that he could really feel it, but her hand was cool, like a breeze on his skin. “Please, she’s crying, and it hurts.” And that’s when he suddenly became aware of the Weeper’s misery. He could see spirits, and he could even talk to the newly dead, the spirits who were in between worlds, but he couldn’t always hear them. This sound was more like a vibration that started in the soles of his feet. It crept along his bones, shaking them, until he felt it in the space where his heart should be. And perhaps that’s why it didn’t seem to affect him as strongly as it affected May, for the poor girl was curled up on the floor, her hands clamped over her ears, her eyes pools of terror. “You have to find her soul,” May said to Brianna. “You don’t have any orders to give me,” Brianna snapped. The two women glared at each other. Then May said, her teeth gritted, “Please go find her soul. It will be in a jar someplace and looks like glowing honey.” “Fine.” Brianna shrugged. “I can do that.” Jack let his breath out. For a minute he thought they would start hitting each other. Brianna and May had been exceedingly polite to each other. May hardly spoke to him at all, which was fine by Jack. He relaxed a fraction and looked around. They were in the living room; it was impeccably clean. The couch and two armchairs were spotless, almost as if they were brand new. A low table gleamed in front of the couch. There were no books or magazines, no plants or anything that would give some personality to the room. It could have been a hotel room, so impersonal it looked. Suddenly, the door to the bedroom opened, and a woman came out. “Who are you people? What are you doing walking on my clean floor?” She wore a red dress and a white apron, and she held a can of furniture polish and a dusting rag in her hands. Her face was devoid of makeup, and her eyes were strangely blank, as was her voice. But it was the Weeper. Sorrow covered her like perfume. Her spirit, caught

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in her body against its will, screamed in agony while her body walked, talked, and, Jack supposed, cleaned. The screaming was like fingernails dragging across a blackboard. The sound emanated from her in waves, although she never opened her mouth, and her eyes were dry. Not a tear wet her face. When she stepped into the room, the vibration from her weeping made Jack’s teeth hurt, and May started to sob. Sally gave Jack an anguished glance and vanished. Brianna shivered visibly and went toward the woman. “Are you Mrs. Mercury?” Her voice was gentle. The woman sprayed polish on her rag and wiped at the wooden wainscot. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Who are you, then?” asked Jack, fighting against the bitter, sorrowful feeling the Weeper inspired. She crouched down to get the bottom of the wall scrubbed. “I’m the housewife. I have to keep the house clean. I have to keep myself occupied. It will pass. It will get better. If I get tired, I have to lie down. Have a drink, Sharon. Oh, no, it’s not right, it’s just not right. My chest hurts,” she confided suddenly to Jack. “Did you ever read the story of Cupid and Psyche? It’s a lovely story, but scary too. He’s invisible, you see, but he loves her. One day she goes to see him. In the dark. While he is sleeping. I can sometimes see him when he’s sleeping. Cupid. He loves me so much, you see.” She gave the wall a close inspection and stood up again. Her words were laced with distress. “I don’t remember, and I can’t taste anything. I think I just want to sleep. Why can’t he just let me sleep? When we eat dinner, he tells me everything is just fine.” Her expression never changed, but her voice rose and lifted the hair on the back of Jack’s neck. Brianna was looking for the soul. She looked under the couch, under the cushions, and then went into the kitchen. Sharon Mercury followed her, replacing the cushions, straightening everything she displaced. May finally seemed to get a hold of herself and trailed after them, her face very pale. Jack followed the women. No one spoke except Brianna, who said, “Not here. Not here either. Not over here. Not in here. Where could it be?” Jack started to get a very bad feeling. The Weeper cleaned, but she didn’t seem to realize who she was or what had happened. Jack remembered what it was like still being caught in the veil, and he imagined that the woman was still caught in that in-between place. It must be a nightmare. A dream. He stopped. “Mrs. Mercury,” he said carefully, “Are you dreaming?” She dropped her can of polish. Turning slowly, she faced him, her expression suddenly alert. “You know it’s all a dream?” Her voice rose. For the first time a spark appeared in her eyes. But it was faint. “It could be a dream,” said Jack carefully. Behind the Weeper, May stared at Jack with an expression of terror in her eyes. She moved her hand. “No!”

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But the Weeper was talking to herself again. “I knew it was a dream. But why can’t I wake up? I’ve tried. But he won’t let me sleep. I have to sleep before I wake up. Oh, this makes no sense at all. No, it’s not a dream. It’s real, all real. He comes and goes, and I never see him except when he sleeps or when we eat.” She shook her head. “Once upon a time there was a man and a woman, and they lived happily ever after.” She stopped speaking and shook her head again. “Happily ever after. But how long is ever after? There has to be an ending to the story sometime. Ever after is too long. Too long.” She picked up the can of polish and sprayed the kitchen table. “I think I found something,” said Brianna. She reached into the refrigerator and took out a jar filled with what looked like honey. The can of polish clattered to the floor. “Put that down!” screamed the Weeper. Outside, the wolves began to howl. The door opened, and the Heart Taker stepped in. Time stood still. Jack and the Heart Taker looked at each other. There was no triumph in Jack, only a sad, worn-out feeling. “Doctor Mercury, I presume?” “Yes.” The Heart Taker didn’t smile. He was as tense as a coiled spring. “I didn’t think you would find me,” he said. “I don’t even know who you are.” “You killed me,” said Jack. There was no recognition. No flash of memory. The Heart Taker just shrugged. “I don’t remember everyone I killed. I try not to look at their faces. Someone brought you back, I see.” “In order to catch you. I suppose you could say that you’re part of me.” “So that’s why you can stop time. I wondered about that.” “Could you always move so fast?” Jack asked. The Heart Taker nodded. “Even as a child. It made some things very easy, but I was always careful not to break the rules or take advantage of others. My parents were both registered mutants, but they managed to hide my affliction so that I was never in the mutant records. I met my wife in high school,” he added. “I’m sorry about what happened to your wife,” Jack said. “She should have gotten a heart, but some rich man in Texas jumped the list and got the heart that would have saved her.” The Heart Taker shook his head. “I killed him first. Took that heart right back. But it was too late for Sharon. She passed into the shadow land, and I just barely managed to get her back.” “But she doesn’t want to stay,” Jack said, keeping his voice soft. The Heart Taker’s black eyes hardened like solidifying glass. His lips drew back from his teeth. “What do you know?”

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“If she wanted to stay, you wouldn’t have to keep her soul in a jar, a prisoner. She thinks she’s dreaming. She can’t see you, and it scares her.” “I only stop time when I’m outside. Usually, I try to keep our life normal.” His expression sharpened. “Can you stop time, or do you just react to my speed? If I snapped back to normal time, would you still be moving at speed, do you think? That would give you a certain advantage over me. But I have a feeling that you only react, you can’t create the time lapse.” “What is important is that I can keep up with you, so you can’t murder my friends, like you murdered me.” “Your friends?” He looked at May and Brianna. “That one I know. She heard me in the casino, and I followed her home. I left her a poem.” “You frightened her badly.” Jack took the handcuffs out, intending to grab him. “I have to keep my Sharon alive.” He smiled at Jack and snap! time caught again, and Brianna screamed. She didn’t drop the jar. She clutched it to her chest. Her eyes wide, she backed against the wall into a corner. The Heart Taker passed in front of his wife and gave her a kiss. His eyes softened when he looked at her. “Hello, dear. Did you have a good day? The house looks so clean. You do an amazing job.” His wife nodded happily. “It’s sparkling clean.” “I see that, dear.” “My name’s not dear, is it?” She shook her head. “I don’t think I’m a dear.” “No, you’re Sharon. Remember? Sharon.” “Sharon Dear?” “No, Sharon Mercury.” For the first time a shadow seemed to pass in front of the Heart Taker’s eyes. “I don’t know who these people are. They came without an engraved invitation. I didn’t even have time to get the cocktails ready.” She shook her head again. “Is there a reception here tonight? Are these your colleagues? May I take your coat, madame?” she said, turning to May. May looked startled and backed away. “No, thank you,” she said. “Well, I’ll just have the butler take it to the cloak room. Silas, darling, where’s the butler? Where’s the staff we rented for the party?” She put her hand to her hair. “How strange. I remember a big party. We had a huge reception when you passed your internship and got the job at the hospital.” Her face cleared, and she gave a huge smile. “Is this the party?” “Sharon…” The Heart Taker looked stricken.

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She looked around, confusion on her face. Her hand strayed to her chest, and she pressed against it, wincing. “This is not our house, Silas. And I don’t know why, but my heart aches. It’s terrible. It aches and aches.” Her voice kept rising, and it raised the hair on the back of Jack’s neck right along with it. The Heart Taker took his wife’s hand. “I can take care of that ache.” “No, no you can’t. I wish you’d let me go, Silas. I wish…” Her expression changed again, going from tragic to curious. “Who are you?” she asked him. “What are you doing in my clean house?” “I’m your husband…” he said, his tone getting desperate. “Your husband. Silas.” “I hope you wiped your feet, whoever you are, because I’ve been cleaning all day.” Jack couldn’t take it anymore. He stepped toward the Heart Taker, holding the handcuffs out in front of him. “Doctor Mercury, in the name of Moosie, I…” “Give me that jar,” said the Heart Taker, ignoring Jack and going to stand in front of Brianna. He held his hand out. Brianna gasped and pressed into the corner, clutching the jar tightly. “Please, give it to me,” he said. “I want to set things right.” His face was a mask of utter misery. “I think I can make things right.” May took the Weeper by the elbow. “Mrs. Mercury, if you’ll come with me, please. My father can help you, I promise.” Jack reached toward the Heart Taker. The Weeper uttered a screeching wail. The ear-splitting sound nearly crippled Jack. It sent May crashing to the floor, Brianna dropped the jar, and Jack clapped his hands to his ears. Outside, the wolves howled even louder. Time and sound stopped as the Heart Taker lunged and caught the jar. He snapped time back to normal before Jack could take advantage of the sudden silence. The handcuffs fell on the floor with a loud clatter. The Heart Taker straightened up, the jar in his hands. The Weeper reached down, wrenched May’s revolver from her holster, and pointed it straight at her husband. “Give me that jar,” she shrieked, her hands trembling. Jack reached out to grab the gun, and the Weeper said to him, “Don’t move. I don’t want to shoot you.” Jack had no idea if the bullet could harm him. He thought not, and was about to throw himself in front of her gun, when she looked past him and said, “Is that you, Silas?” Her voice wavered. She blinked, but kept the gun trained on the Heart Taker. “Silas, is it really you?” The Heart Taker nodded, his expression beatific. “Yes, yes, darling, it’s me! You remember now, don’t you?”

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She wrinkled her brow in thought, and nodded. “Oh, yes. I remember. I remember dying, and you brought me back. But I didn’t want to stay. You forced me to stay. I would have waited for you. You would have joined me. But you had to wrench me back, and I am so unhappy about that.” “Sharon, I can make it right now. Here, take your soul. If you just open the jar, you’ll be free. I’m sorry…” The Heart Taker faltered as he looked at his wife. “Sharon. I’m sorry.” “I’m sorry too. I would have waited for you, but now I can follow you.” She closed her eyes tightly and pulled the trigger. Time stopped for a heartbeat. The Heart Taker looked at the bullet. Jack looked at the bullet, hanging motionless in the air, and at Brianna, standing frozen behind the Heart Taker. If he moved, she’d get hit by the bullet. “No!” Jack cried, anguish ripping the word from his throat. The Heart Taker glanced behind him, sighed, and closed his eyes. The air around them gave a hard jolt. The bullet hit the Heart Taker in the heart. First, though, it shattered the glass jar he held, and a golden light burst from it like shooting stars. It whizzed silently around the room, and vanished before Jack could draw a breath. The Heart Taker slammed against Brianna, who caught him. The Weeper crumpled to the floor, dropping the gun. May snatched the gun, her face tragic. “I’m so sorry,” she cried, cradling the Weeper in her arms. May and the Weeper got to their feet and came to stand over the Heart Taker. May held the Weeper by the waist, and the woman leaned on her, walking like a robot. May was so small, she was dwarfed by the Weeper. Jack knelt by Brianna and tried to find words, any words, but they were locked in his throat. If he opened his mouth, he’d either throw up or scream. He was just glad Brianna was safe. He reached over and grasped her arm. She looked up, gave him a weak smile. “This is going to be a hell of a report to write.” The Weeper, who Jack could not think of as Sharon, no matter how he tried, looked at her husband and shook her head sadly. “Blood all over my clean floor,” she said. “What a mess.” May led her out the front door to where a police car was parked, its blue lights flashing. Looking back over her shoulder, May said, “Jack, will you come with me?” “Go ahead, Jack.” Brianna reached over and closed the Heart Taker’s eyelids. She remained sitting by his side, not minding the blood that seeped into her pants. Her shirt was scarlet, but she wasn’t injured. Her eyes were sad. She looked up at Jack. “He could have let me be killed.”

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The words untangled themselves from his throat. “That’s what I was afraid of.” Jack was still shaking, but he managed to lean down, kiss Brianna, and make it out of the trailer before leaning over and puking into the weed-choked ditch. “Nice work,” said a wolf, sitting nearby. “Feeling better?” asked a second wolf. “Not really,” said Jack, wiping his mouth and wishing he had a glass of water or something stronger. “I need a drink.” “Mr. Ling-Li is waiting. He will have some tea,” said the first wolf, in a kind voice. “Go on. We’ll make sure nothing happens to your beloved. We’ll also make sure the Heart Taker’s spirit finds its way to the gate and passes it.” The wolves pointed their muzzles to the sky and howled in unison. Jack hurried to the police car, where May sat in the back with the Weeper. They went straight to the morgue, passing an ambulance as they drove out of the trailer park. It was going to pick up the Heart Taker’s body. But his spirit would already be long gone.

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Chapter Twenty-Six Ever After In the car, all the Weeper had said was, “Will I be able to sleep now?” Jack hadn’t known how to reply, and May had lost her composure. It was the first time Jack had seen her like that. He almost felt sorry for her. Almost. Thanks to her, the capture had turned into a fiasco. Brianna could have been killed. But by the time they arrived at the morgue, Jack had decided he was being unfair to May. His own fright had made him angry. Seeing May so disheveled…so harmless looking…turned his anger to pity. Jim Ling-Li met the Weeper as the car pulled up. With infinite gentleness, he helped her from her seat and led her to his office. Jack and May followed. May still pale and crumpled looking, Jack numb. In his office, Jim had tea waiting. Jack took a cup gratefully and drank, washing the bitterness from his mouth with the strong, lemony taste. May took some tea as well, but the Weeper simply sat in her chair, her expression one of polite interest. “No, thank you,” she said, when Jim Ling-Li offered her a cup. “Your soul has been liberated, and you are free now,” said Jim Ling-Li. “I know.” The Weeper touched May’s hand. “You shouldn’t blame yourself. I did what I needed to do. Silas knew it. He could have easily saved himself, you know.” May turned to Jack. Her eyes were full of tears. “My carelessness could have cost you Brianna. I am so sorry.” Well, that was a surprise. Jack had lost his ire, but he sensed May’s sincerity, and it touched him. “We were all distracted. No one could have guessed what Mrs. Mercury would do.”

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“What now?” asked the Weeper, turning her gaze to Jim Ling-Li. “Is it time to go? Will you help me sleep, at last?” “Yes. It is time.” Jim stood up and gave her his hand. “Come. And you, too, May and Jack. One day this will be your choice to make.” Jack followed silently. They went into a back room, just off Jim Ling-Li’s office. In it were a bed, a chair, a table with three candles, and an incense burner. Without speaking, the Weeper lay down in the bed. She lay on her back, her arms crossed over her chest, her face serene. Jim Ling-Li motioned to Jack and May to stand near the bed, and they did, though Jack wished he were anywhere but in that room. Quite frankly, he was terrified. For one thing, the woman on the bed was not human. Jack felt that very keenly. She looked human, and spoke like one, but her eyes were strangely blank and her movements jerky and slow. He swallowed hard. She was a real zombie. Was he like that to others? No, he didn’t think so. His soul still resided within him, and that, perhaps, was the difference. After all, even May was completely different from the creature lying on the bed. Humans must perceive him like he saw May -- slightly different from others, that’s all. Jim Ling-Li took matches from his pocket and lit the three candles and the incense. Then he pulled the chair up to the side of the bed and sat down. They waited for a few minutes, no one speaking, Jack getting tenser as the seconds ticked by. When would it happen? What was about to happen? “I’m tired,” said the Weeper. “Close your eyes and sleep.” Jim’s voice was very soft. The incense started to make Jack’s head spin. He shook his head, aware of a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. Jim Ling-Li began to speak then. Jack had no idea what language it was, but the words he spoke seemed to wrap themselves around Jack’s insides and squeeze. He felt the words insinuate themselves into his skull, his stomach, his arms and legs. And yet, he knew, or rather, his body knew, that the words were not meant for him. The words filled him with dread, and at the same time, appeased him somehow. He risked a glance at May and saw she was affected too. Her skin pressed against the bones in her face, and her mouth was white. Her small hands clenched and unclenched at her sides, and she shivered almost uncontrollably. Jack didn’t know how long they stood there, or how long Jim Ling-Li muttered his incantations. As he spoke one candle, then another, flickered and went out. Suddenly the last candle flared and extinguished itself, and on the bed, the Weeper finally slept. Jim Ling-Li reached over and drew his hand over her face, touching her eyelids, her nose, and her mouth. Afterward he stood up and bowed to the lifeless form on the bed. “It’s done.” Jack found himself back in Jim Ling-Li’s office. He touched the teapot, but it was cold.

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“Shall I heat some up for you?” Jim Ling-Li asked kindly. “Yes, please.” Jack wanted something scalding. “It’s called bitter sun,” said Jim Ling-Li, ever the tea poet. He turned to May, who hadn’t spoken at all since the ceremony. “You see, May, it isn’t a hard choice to make. All you have to do is know when to make it.” May didn’t reply, but Jack knew what she felt. One day, he could choose to lie down and let his soul leave his body, and let the life force that animated him fall asleep for all time. Like a candle being blown out. “Ever after,” said May suddenly. Her face relaxed and she turned to Jack. “That’s what she wanted, and she’s weeping no longer. I can’t hear her. She passed into the shadow.” Jack sipped his bitter sun tea and felt a small measure of peace fill him. The Heart Taker was no more, the Weeper slept, and May was not the invincible, scary creature he’d thought she was. “Do you think I’ll get a raise?” he asked May, and was surprised when she started to laugh.

***** Brianna sat at her desk and tried to write the report. As she’d surmised, it wasn’t easy. She hadn’t seen most of what happened. According to Jack, the Heart Taker had stopped time twice. Once to speak to Jack, and once to grab the jar with his wife’s soul in it. She looked at the paper and sighed. That just didn’t look right. “What’s the matter?” Jeffrey came in and sat down in front of her, on the opposite side of her desk. “No one will believe this report,” said Brianna, putting her head in her hands. “You forget who you’re writing it for. Moosie. The folks here have seen everything, believe me. And the boys in Area 51 will even believe stuff they haven’t seen. So just write the report as you saw it.” “Moosie believes,” said Brianna, making her voice deep and mysterious. “Whatever happens…Moosie believes.” She was happy when she saw Jeffrey grin. It was a faint smile, and only whisked across his face like a shadow, but it had been there. She reached over the desk and took his hand. “I’m so sorry about Wendy. I know it’s too soon, and you will probably hate me for bringing it up in the office, but if you ever want to talk to anyone, I’m here. I really liked her, and I’m sorry you had to lose her.” The tears that had been just below the surface welled up, and Jeffrey turned his chair around so that Brianna only saw his broad back. He took a few deep breaths, then spoke, his back still to her. “You’re right. It’s too soon. But I needed you to tell me that, Brianna. Thanks.” He paused, pulled a hankie out of his pocket and blew his nose loudly. “Now, get that report done, and no more personal business in the office.”

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“There is one thing I have to ask you, Jeffrey.” Brianna took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you ever tell me your mother is a registered mutant?” Jeffrey looked taken aback, then nodded slowly. “The files. You hacked into the police files.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I suppose I should be angry, but I’m rather proud of your detective work. Always will be.” “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” “No, that’s all right. My father was afraid that with my mother being a mutant, the world would discriminate against me. He had all the files erased. You must have found one that he missed.” “What was her talent?” Brianna asked. “My mother’s talent was interesting. I never met anyone with it. She could switch places with people. Literally, physically put herself in their place. The other person would find themselves in her seat, for example, or standing in her spot in line at the supermarket checkout.” He chuckled. “She couldn’t really control the talent either. It just took over in times of great stress as a sort of safety measure. If anyone had ever fired a gun at her, he’d be hit by his own bullet.” “Or if she ran in a race, her body might think she was being chased, and switch with the leader.” Brianna gave a wry smile. “Right.” Jeffrey stared at her keenly. “You thought I was the Heart Taker at one point? Is that it?” “Never,” said Brianna. “I swear.” “I believe you. Oh, one more thing. We have to talk about your partnership with Jack.” Brianna twiddled her pen, wrote another sentence that ended with, “…and the soul burst from the jar like a Fourth of July fireworks display.” She knew what was coming next. Fine. She was a professional. She could handle it. “I already spoke to Jack about that. I explained that it wasn’t possible for us to work together.” “You’re right.” Jeffrey swung his chair around. “Starting next week you have a new partner and so does Jack.” “May.” “How did you guess?” Jeffrey sounded surprised. Brianna put the pen down after gouging a hole in her report with it. She shouldn’t be upset that Jack had May as a partner. “Jack and May complement each other,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm. Reasonable. Professional. Jeffrey didn’t know that May had tried to seduce Jack away from her, and now he was giving her a new chance to try even harder. Damn. The pen in her hand broke. Damn. First blood, now ink on these pants. They were ruined.

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“No, May is going to be your partner.” Jeffrey nodded and tapped his feet on the floor in a quick two-step. He always used to do that when he was pleased about something. That took a while to sink in. May? Her partner? Could she work with May? A thought she’d have to consider, but the idea wasn’t as bad as she’d first supposed. May was cold, cool, and competent. She was also bright, and could be counted on. Fine. She’d get used to the idea. And that way she could keep her eye on her. Brianna raised her eyebrow. “Who will be working with Jack?” Jeffrey tilted his head, a funny expression on his face. “Me,” he said. “You?” Brianna rubbed her hand over her face. “But, Jeffrey, you’re the chief here and…” “And I was getting tired of all that paperwork, tired of sitting behind a desk most of the time, tired of holding down two jobs trying to keep my head above water. I am” -- his voice broke, but he plowed on -- “so sorry Wendy died. I would have worked thirteen jobs for her. But one thing I know. Life is short, and life is precious, and life is to be lived while you can still live it. I’m quitting my job with the city police. I’m still chief here at Moosie. But I’ve missed working the crime scenes, missed working with a team, missed being a part of…” He broke off and looked at her. “You have ink all over your face.” Brianna looked at her blue-spattered hand and at the report, also spattered with blue and now sporting a ragged hole in the middle. “Do the boys in Area 51 care what the report looks like?” she asked. “Are they the ones who file them?” “You could write it in glow-in-the-dark ink on rainbow-colored paper and they wouldn’t notice.” Jeffrey smiled again. A fleeting smile, but a smile just the same. It was good to see. He’d been somber for so long, Brianna had almost forgotten how he had been before Wendy had gotten sick. She signed her name on the bottom of the report. “I’ll let Jack and May sign this, and then it’s off to the files.” She leaned back in her chair and stretched. “So this case is closed. The Heart Taker has been found. No more stupid poems shoved into bloody chest cavities. No more hiding in safe rooms on Halloween.” She set her chair back down and shook her head. “I’m going to be bored.” “I don’t think so. There’s a file that just arrived on my desk. Strange things have been going on in the undead community.” Brianna raised her eyebrows. “That sounds like an oxymoron.” “You’re going to have to retrain your thinking now that you work here. What was strange before is now commonplace. When a vampire comes to Moosie and asks for help…now that’s strange.” Brianna straightened the papers on her desk, got up, and went to stand next to Jeffrey. “I’m going home to shower. I’ll let you tell Jack the good news, all right?” He nodded. “Have a nice evening. I’ll see you in the morning.”

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Brianna pulled her coat on over her bloodstained blouse. Jeffrey had offered her a clean shirt, but she just wanted to go home, shower, and change. At the corner she saw the shoeshine boy, and on a whim, went to get her shoes polished. She put her foot on the box and winced. She’d forgotten how caked with blood they were. The shoeshine boy whistled. “Wow. What happened?” “Just clean. I’ll tell you while you’re working. It’s a long story.” Brianna watched as the boy scrubbed and polished, and while he worked, she told him how the Heart Taker had been captured and killed, and how he wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore. The boy looked up and gave her a huge smile. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all year. Shine’s on me, lady.”

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Chapter Twenty-Seven Starting from Scratch Jack had been expecting to see Brianna at the office. He felt let down, in a way, that she hadn’t waited for him. He signed the report, admiring the professional way Brianna described the incident, grinned as he saw the word ”hypothesis,” and wondered what the ink stain and the hole in the paper was from. He filled in the missing bits, adding his conversation with the Heart Taker. Then he signed it and passed it to May. May, still terribly subdued, added her signature to the affair. Jeffrey told them about the new partner arrangement. Jack hadn’t known what to expect. Perhaps in the back of his mind he’d been expecting May. Getting Jeffrey was a surprise, but the more he thought about it the more he liked it. May did not look pleased with the arrangement, but she nodded, gathered her purse and coat, and left the office, bidding goodnight to Jack and Jeffrey. “She wanted you as a partner,” said Jeffrey, after the door had closed and the sound of May’s high heels on the steel floor had faded away. A whiff of her perfume remained, though, and Jeffrey breathed deeply before sitting back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head. Jack couldn’t tell what he was thinking from his expression. He looked fiercer than ever now, his face haggard and his eyes grim. But his voice was calm. “Brianna tells me you have a knack for detective work. And the proof is all here. Finding the Heart Taker was no easy task, but you did it. Congratulations, Jack.” “Thank you, Jeffrey.” Jack was uncomfortable. This was his new partner, and although he admired him, he didn’t know him at all, and it made him uneasy. “I know how you feel.” Jeffrey nodded at Jack. “My first partner was Stan Watowsky. He was a grizzled pro, just three years short of retirement, and he got stuck with a wetbehind-the-ears blue like me. I thought the best thing to do would be just stay in the car, or

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hide behind Stan and let him take over. But he knew the ropes, and he made me climb them. He put me right out there and put me to work. He was a teacher at heart. I was lucky I got paired with him. I learned more from Stan in six months than I had at the academy in two years.” He shook his head. “And you are starting from scratch. You never went to the academy. You never had any training at all. So I thought I’d repay Stan. He went out of his way to teach me, and I’m going to go out of my way to make sure you learn everything you need to know. It’s going to be tough, but I think you can do it, Jack. Besides, I’ve always wanted a partner who could stop speeding bullets,” he deadpanned. Jack felt things falling into place. Brianna was good, but she wouldn’t be able to teach him what Jeffrey could, and being emotionally involved with one’s partner was too hard. Look what had happened in the trailer. He’d been shocked and terrified by Brianna’s near miss, and that had made him grimly satisfied that the Heart Taker had been killed. Perhaps he could have stopped time and plucked the bullet away. He didn’t know. It was too late now. But his emotions had definitely gotten in the way of his job. Starting from scratch might not be a bad idea. “I can’t promise anything about the bullets,” he said to Jeffrey. “But I’m glad you’re my partner.” Jeffrey leaned forward and stuck his hand out. “Well, shake, then. And see you tomorrow, buddy.” “Anything but buddy,” said Jack, pained.

***** The shoeshine boy already knew the big news of the day. He hailed Jack as he crossed the street, waving his brush above his head. “Your partner told me,” said the boy, insisting on giving Jack a free shine too. “She’s not my partner.” Jack felt obliged to tell him everything, so he did. The boy listened intently, while putting a gleam on Jack’s brown leather loafers. “So you’re a zombie?” The boy made a face and turned down Jack’s offer of a tip. “You don’t look like a zombie. Can you do anything cool? Do your eyeballs fall out? Can you show me?” Jack obliged him by taking his arm off. “That is totally awesome,” said the kid. Jack felt the day had been a great success.

***** It wasn’t over. Brianna’s apartment was warm, brightly lit, and scented with spicy ginger candles. A trail of red rose petals led into her bedroom. Intrigued, Jack read the note on the floor among the rose petals.

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Mémé Hoya is at Dee’s place with Sally, getting him settled in. There’s a salmon quiche in the oven, a bottle of chilled champagne in the ice bucket, and a naked woman in the bathtub. Hurry before the water gets cold. B. Jack opened the door to the bathroom. It was true. “You look so beautiful,” Jack said, running his lips over her jaw and over to her mouth. “It’s the candlelight. It makes my eyes glow.” “They glow anyway.” Jack took her face in his hands and kissed her again. And again. “The water is getting cold,” said Brianna, a little catch in her voice. “So get out and…” Jack stopped talking and stared. Standing in the bathroom, a grin on his face, was the ghost from the reservation. “What is it?” asked Brianna, twisting her head around to look where Jack was staring. “Nothing. What do you think about Peeping Toms?” Jack asked. Brianna giggled. “I’ve always kind of fantasized about someone watching me.” Jack lifted her out of the tub and handed her a towel. “Well, let’s just pretend someone is watching us, all right?” Brianna sucked in her breath. “You are the most inventive lover,” she said, dropping the towel and pressing herself against him. “I love your imagination. Tell me more. What does he look like, and what is he doing now?” Jack glanced at the ghost from the corner of his eye and said, “He’s tall, dark, and handsome…” “Like you,” said Brianna, running her hands down his back. “And he has…a hard-on.” “Like you.” Brianna chuckled, grasping his cock through his pants. “Try to make him different.” “He’s wearing a loin cloth, face paint, there’s an eagle feather stuck in his hair, and he’s staring at your breasts like he can’t get enough of them.” Brianna stepped back. “He is?” Jack nodded. “This isn’t make-believe, is it? There’s a Indian ghost in here, isn’t there?” “He came from the hotel. Actually, he was in our room the night we stayed there. I didn’t know how to tell you.” Jack had a helpless look on his face. “Do you want to get dressed? Maybe he’ll go away.” Brianna thought about it for a minute and shook her head. Her cheeks were pink. “No, we can stay under the covers. Maybe he’ll get bored and leave us alone. Is he really goodlooking?”

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He nodded and hurriedly took off his own clothes, then slid into the bed beside her. He touched her nipples. “They look like they need to be warmed up.” Grinning, he cupped her breasts in his hands. “They're more than a handful.” “Are they more than a mouthful too?” He tugged at a nipple with his lips and sucked hard, drawing it into his mouth. Raising himself on one elbow, he slid his hand down her side, over her hip, and between her legs. Brianna giggled, but it turned into a gasp as he parted her legs and gently massaged her sex, while she writhed beneath his touch. Shivers of pleasure ran down his spine when she grabbed his cock. “Whoa!” he said, her nipple slipping out of his mouth. He shifted position so he could capture her breast and put it back in his mouth. With his hand, he kept massaging her clit, slower now and gently. Brianna held onto his cock, and she let out a little moan of impatience. He could feel her moisture on his hand, her sex getting slicker and more excited. He lifted his head and gave her a wide grin. He held her thighs apart, as far apart as he could. She arched her back, pressing herself against his hand. “More,” she whispered. When he let go of one thigh and used his finger to penetrate her, she gave a cry of delight. He thrust with his finger, searching for the angle that would give her the most pleasure. He found it, and she arched her back higher with a shout. “Yes!” He didn't let her come. Instead, he pushed her back onto the bed and knelt above her. With a wicked grin on his face, he mounted her and plunged his cock into her. Brianna dug her heels into the bed and pushed against him. “Harder!” she gasped, and he complied, thrusting right up to the hilt. He pushed in, filling her completely. For a second he didn't move. Sliding out, until just the tip of his cock was touching her, he slowly plunged back in. He could feel the head, and then the shaft of his cock making its way into her tight passage. She bucked against him, and he gave a savage groan. “Harder, faster!” she begged. Raising himself on his arms, he held himself high above her as he thrust between her open legs. She spread them even wider, so that he could penetrate further, and raised her knees. He withdrew from her and rocked back on his heels. He leaned forward and lifted first one of her legs, and then the other over his shoulders. From this position, she was totally exposed. Carefully, he slid into her. In this position, she couldn't slow him down or hold him back. But he went slowly, even though she was begging him to take her faster. “All right.” He had a catch in his voice. He thrust, holding back until he couldn't control himself any more. His hips suddenly seemed to have a life of their own, and he slid into her, his face contorted as he fought to slow down. “Harder!” screamed Brianna, and she grabbed his hips.

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Samantha Winston

He was called her name in hoarse cries and drove himself into her. Their bodies were glistening with sweat. His stomach started to contract. Braced against her legs, he thrust hard, crying out as he reached his orgasm. He toppled over the edge. When his vision cleared, Jack looked around the room, but the ghost had disappeared. He hoped he’d seen the last of him. For a while at least. He was exhausted. He wasn’t too tired to eat, though. He was famished. The quiche was delicious, but he didn’t touch the champagne, preferring to drink plain water with his meal, and making herbal tea afterward. He followed the diet in his zombie handbook with care. He sat with Brianna on the couch, the lights off, watching the animation on the wharf down below. “How do you feel about having May as a partner?” he asked her. “I think she’ll be a good partner. She’s tough, she’s conscientious, and she’ll be more careful with her gun from now on. I think she was so used to using a spike, she just forgot how dangerous guns can be.” “So everything’s all right?” Jack had to know. “Everything’s perfect.” She stroked his hair. “Especially if you promise to keep your other job -- and if you can get rid of our Peeping Tom.” “I’ll sic Sally on him.” Jack grinned at the thought. “Here’s to us,” said Brianna, holding her glass of champagne up for a toast. “May we live happily ever after.” “Happily ever after,” Jack repeated and clicked his teacup against her champagne flute. Down below, the barges lumbered in and out of their berths as the cranes lifted their loads, and the moon rose, fat and yellow, to cast its light over the scene. The ghost came in and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the window. He pulled a pipe out of his leather pouch and lit it with flint and pyrite, then puffed ghost smoke rings. The moonlight went right through him, he cast no shadow, and the smoke had no smell to it at all. Jack wondered who he was and what his story could be, and hoped Sally could talk to him and find out. He also wondered how long “ever after” would be, if he and Brianna would be happy together, and if she would ever regret staying with him. As he thought about that, he came to the conclusion that life came without a guarantee. It was up to him to make the best of life. The ghost finished his pipe, got up, stretched, and stood looking out the window. The moonlight faded him until there was nothing left. He simply faded away. But Jack had a feeling he’d be back.

Samantha Winston Samantha Winston is the pen name for Jennifer Macaire, an American freelance writer/illustrator. She was born in Kingston, NY and lived in Samoa, California, and the Virgin Islands before moving to France. She attended Parsons School of Design for fine art, and Palm Beach Junior College for art and English literature. She worked for five years as a model for Elite. Married to a handsome and sensual man who is also a professional polo player, she has three children. Visit Samantha on the web at www.samanthawinston.com.