Crimson Death
Page 153
“I just think it would be a good idea to find out just how much necromancy works in Ireland.”
“We are not going to have a zombie-versus-vampire war through the streets of Dublin, Nathaniel.”
“I’m not saying it’s a good idea. I’m just saying that it’s good to know what our resources are, that’s all.”
“You mean like extra weapons,” Nicky said.
“Yes.”
“I like it,” Nicky said.
“Well, I don’t,” I said. “I don’t raise zombies without a good reason, and just seeing if I can do it isn’t good enough.”
“Nap, food, and sunshine, and then we’ll see how you’re feeling,” Nicky said.
“I am not going to raise a zombie in Ireland just to see if I can do it.”
“It’s hours until dark, Anita. We’ll revisit the topic later.”
“No, we won’t,” I said very firmly.
Nicky leaned in and whispered, “You want to know if you can raise the dead here. You want to know if you can be the first necromancer to ever raise the dead in Ireland. I can feel what you want, Anita.”
What could I say to that? I didn’t want to raise the dead there, and I tried to never raise zombies without a reason. I’d raised them to answer historical questions, to tell which will was the real one, or to finish giving court testimony, but to just raise one to see if I could didn’t seem to qualify as a good reason, but . . . Nicky was right: There was a part of me that wanted to know if I could do what I’d been told was impossible there. Was it ego to want to see if I was really legendary enough to raise zombies in Ireland? Yes. Was I going to give in to that much ego? No. No, really, I wasn’t. No raising zombies in Ireland. I’d gone there to help with the vampire problem. I wasn’t going to make a second undead problem for them. Nope, not going to do it, but part of me was really wondering if I could.
50
AS WE ROUNDED the corner and were finally in sight of the car, Nathaniel jiggled my hand in his and said, “If you tell me that Ted is good at undercover work, I’ll believe you, but wow.” I looked down the brick-lined street to where Edward and Nolan were waiting beside the truck, car, vehicle. Edward was leaning against it with his cream-colored cowboy hat pulled low over his face as if he were napping. He’d bent one leg so that the bottom of his black cowboy boot was against the side of the truck. He’d opened his marshal coat enough that you could glimpse his white button-up shirt. Normally he’d have been in tactical pants and boots made for fieldwork that didn’t involve horses, but except for the jacket, he looked like he’d come from central casting for a Western movie.
“He is undercover,” I said. “He’s pretending to be Ted Forrester, good ol’ boy.”
Nicky added, “He’s being what most foreigners want Americans to be: cowboys. They’ll see the stereotype and not look as closely at the reality of him.”
Nathaniel looked from one to the other of us. “So you’re saying he’s hiding by not hiding?”
“Something like that,” I said.
Nolan stepped out from behind the vehicle and he was all in black. He’d gotten out of his special teams battle rattle like the powers that be had strongly suggested, but he was still wearing tactical pants, boots, and a black Windbreaker, and well, he just looked so damn military. It was partially his choice of civilian clothes, but it was also the attitude. He was so on alert, while Edward looked almost asleep.
“Nolan is the same no matter what he wears,” Nathaniel said.
“Ted changes like a chameleon. You just haven’t seen him do it much, because he gets to be himself around me.”
“Where are Jake and Kaazim?” Dev asked.
“We’ll ask Ted and Nolan,” I said.
When we were close enough, Ted folded himself off the car and came toward us. He was smiling his best happy-to-see-you smile. Even his blue eyes seemed a warmer shade of color, as if he believed the smile all the way up and through. The world had lost a scarily good character actor when Edward went into covert ops.
“Jacob is saving us a table at a restaurant that Nolan says will give us a good opinion of Irish cuisine.”
“Sounds good,” Nicky said without missing a beat. I looked from one to the other of them.
“Maybe I’ll learn a new recipe we can use at home,” Nathaniel said.
“Sure, but after food, Nicky says a couple of hours’ nap will help me deal with the jet lag.”
“You having a problem with it?” Nolan asked.
“She’s crankier than normal,” Dev said.
Edward laughed out loud, his head back, his whole face shining. “Crankier, and no one’s bleeding or dead yet?” He laughed some more. I was beginning to think it wasn’t his Ted act, but just him being genuinely amused. Nolan was starting to chuckle along.
I looked at them, my face totally deadpan, and said, “Flannery isn’t with us anymore, is he?”
Nolan stopped laughing and looked at me. Edward laughed harder. The other men with me managed to look solemn. Nicky said, “It was him or us.”
Edward laughed so hard, he was starting to cry as Nolan said, “Where’s Flannery?”
It would have been even funnier if Flannery hadn’t cleared the corner behind us just then. Nolan scowled at all of us. “That wasn’t funny.”
“Yeah, it was,” I said.
Edward just nodded, laughing so hard, he had to lean against the car. The other men held out until Flannery came up and said, “What’s so funny?” Then we all lost it.
51
WHEN EDWARD HAD finished laughing his ass off, he came over and hugged me, which he almost never did. He even apologized for laughing at me, which he did even less often. During all the unheard-of hugging and apologizing he managed to whisper, “Local informant wants to talk.” I pulled back as if everything was normal and said, “So, where is this amazing Irish food?”
He grinned, very Ted, and said, “Pub.”
I gave him a look, suspecting this was the Irish version of his cowboy act. Pubs and drinking, very Irish, right? God, I hoped not, because as a teetotaler, I’d learned years ago that people are far less interesting drunk than they think they are, and they don’t have nearly as good a time as they remember. I drank occasionally for Jean-Claude, because he could taste solid food, wine, and liquor through me. It was one of the common benefits of having a human servant: You could taste food that you hadn’t tasted in centuries. I’d never be the wine snob that he was, but I was learning to appreciate a few vintages.
“We are not going to have a zombie-versus-vampire war through the streets of Dublin, Nathaniel.”
“I’m not saying it’s a good idea. I’m just saying that it’s good to know what our resources are, that’s all.”
“You mean like extra weapons,” Nicky said.
“Yes.”
“I like it,” Nicky said.
“Well, I don’t,” I said. “I don’t raise zombies without a good reason, and just seeing if I can do it isn’t good enough.”
“Nap, food, and sunshine, and then we’ll see how you’re feeling,” Nicky said.
“I am not going to raise a zombie in Ireland just to see if I can do it.”
“It’s hours until dark, Anita. We’ll revisit the topic later.”
“No, we won’t,” I said very firmly.
Nicky leaned in and whispered, “You want to know if you can raise the dead here. You want to know if you can be the first necromancer to ever raise the dead in Ireland. I can feel what you want, Anita.”
What could I say to that? I didn’t want to raise the dead there, and I tried to never raise zombies without a reason. I’d raised them to answer historical questions, to tell which will was the real one, or to finish giving court testimony, but to just raise one to see if I could didn’t seem to qualify as a good reason, but . . . Nicky was right: There was a part of me that wanted to know if I could do what I’d been told was impossible there. Was it ego to want to see if I was really legendary enough to raise zombies in Ireland? Yes. Was I going to give in to that much ego? No. No, really, I wasn’t. No raising zombies in Ireland. I’d gone there to help with the vampire problem. I wasn’t going to make a second undead problem for them. Nope, not going to do it, but part of me was really wondering if I could.
50
AS WE ROUNDED the corner and were finally in sight of the car, Nathaniel jiggled my hand in his and said, “If you tell me that Ted is good at undercover work, I’ll believe you, but wow.” I looked down the brick-lined street to where Edward and Nolan were waiting beside the truck, car, vehicle. Edward was leaning against it with his cream-colored cowboy hat pulled low over his face as if he were napping. He’d bent one leg so that the bottom of his black cowboy boot was against the side of the truck. He’d opened his marshal coat enough that you could glimpse his white button-up shirt. Normally he’d have been in tactical pants and boots made for fieldwork that didn’t involve horses, but except for the jacket, he looked like he’d come from central casting for a Western movie.
“He is undercover,” I said. “He’s pretending to be Ted Forrester, good ol’ boy.”
Nicky added, “He’s being what most foreigners want Americans to be: cowboys. They’ll see the stereotype and not look as closely at the reality of him.”
Nathaniel looked from one to the other of us. “So you’re saying he’s hiding by not hiding?”
“Something like that,” I said.
Nolan stepped out from behind the vehicle and he was all in black. He’d gotten out of his special teams battle rattle like the powers that be had strongly suggested, but he was still wearing tactical pants, boots, and a black Windbreaker, and well, he just looked so damn military. It was partially his choice of civilian clothes, but it was also the attitude. He was so on alert, while Edward looked almost asleep.
“Nolan is the same no matter what he wears,” Nathaniel said.
“Ted changes like a chameleon. You just haven’t seen him do it much, because he gets to be himself around me.”
“Where are Jake and Kaazim?” Dev asked.
“We’ll ask Ted and Nolan,” I said.
When we were close enough, Ted folded himself off the car and came toward us. He was smiling his best happy-to-see-you smile. Even his blue eyes seemed a warmer shade of color, as if he believed the smile all the way up and through. The world had lost a scarily good character actor when Edward went into covert ops.
“Jacob is saving us a table at a restaurant that Nolan says will give us a good opinion of Irish cuisine.”
“Sounds good,” Nicky said without missing a beat. I looked from one to the other of them.
“Maybe I’ll learn a new recipe we can use at home,” Nathaniel said.
“Sure, but after food, Nicky says a couple of hours’ nap will help me deal with the jet lag.”
“You having a problem with it?” Nolan asked.
“She’s crankier than normal,” Dev said.
Edward laughed out loud, his head back, his whole face shining. “Crankier, and no one’s bleeding or dead yet?” He laughed some more. I was beginning to think it wasn’t his Ted act, but just him being genuinely amused. Nolan was starting to chuckle along.
I looked at them, my face totally deadpan, and said, “Flannery isn’t with us anymore, is he?”
Nolan stopped laughing and looked at me. Edward laughed harder. The other men with me managed to look solemn. Nicky said, “It was him or us.”
Edward laughed so hard, he was starting to cry as Nolan said, “Where’s Flannery?”
It would have been even funnier if Flannery hadn’t cleared the corner behind us just then. Nolan scowled at all of us. “That wasn’t funny.”
“Yeah, it was,” I said.
Edward just nodded, laughing so hard, he had to lean against the car. The other men held out until Flannery came up and said, “What’s so funny?” Then we all lost it.
51
WHEN EDWARD HAD finished laughing his ass off, he came over and hugged me, which he almost never did. He even apologized for laughing at me, which he did even less often. During all the unheard-of hugging and apologizing he managed to whisper, “Local informant wants to talk.” I pulled back as if everything was normal and said, “So, where is this amazing Irish food?”
He grinned, very Ted, and said, “Pub.”
I gave him a look, suspecting this was the Irish version of his cowboy act. Pubs and drinking, very Irish, right? God, I hoped not, because as a teetotaler, I’d learned years ago that people are far less interesting drunk than they think they are, and they don’t have nearly as good a time as they remember. I drank occasionally for Jean-Claude, because he could taste solid food, wine, and liquor through me. It was one of the common benefits of having a human servant: You could taste food that you hadn’t tasted in centuries. I’d never be the wine snob that he was, but I was learning to appreciate a few vintages.
