She rose blond and dressed in white, her face in perfect makeup. Only her blue eyes were empty, and it took more than power to fill those up. I touched the still-bleeding neck wound on Silas and drew fresh blood across Ilsa Bennington’s lips. She blinked, and then a delicate tongue flicked out and licked that blood. She licked her lips, then she blinked again and she was suddenly in there.
She looked at the grave, and at me, and the body, and started to scream. Tony Bennington came and took her from the grave, comforting her, as she asked, “Why are we here? That’s a dead man? Tony, what’s happening?”
He walked his dead wife away from the grave, but the power from Silas’s death was still there, still in me, and now that the zombie was raised, the power beat through me again. It pulsed through me, hammered along my bones; I’d never felt anything like it. I fell onto the grave, writhing in the pain of it. The power wanted to be used. It was as if my necromancy had become something closer to the beasts inside me, or the ardeur , as if the power had a will of its own and that will wanted the dead.
Nicky knelt by me. “Anita, what’s wrong?”
“Too much power from the one death for just one zombie. Too much power for just that.”
“We’re in a cemetery; why raise just one?”
I looked up at him, and thought, why not? I got to my knees and put my hands back on the earth and I knew what the power wanted. I knew exactly what to do with it. I put my hands back on the grave and I cast the power down and out. I sent it out and out and out in an ever-widening circle until I touched every grave, every body, and I called, “Rise, rise to me. Rise!”
Ellen screamed, “No!” But she was too late, so too late.
The ground moved under our feet, like a small earthquake. The zombies crawled from their graves, but there were hundreds of them and even this much power couldn’t bring them back like I’d brought Ilsa Bennington back. These were the shambling, rotting dead, and they pulled themselves free of the earth.
The power hit Ellen’s circle and shattered it. I could suddenly feel Jean-Claude and knew that he was closer than two hours away. Every connection I had was suddenly back in place, and I could sense, smell, taste the skins of my men. They were all safe, and some of them were on their way. They’d followed the trail, but now I’d put up a metaphysical bonfire to guide them to me.
But it was Jacob who was yelling, “You stupid bitch. You didn’t just shield her from her people; you cut me off from ours. They were captured hours ago.” He hit Ellen hard enough that her body spun and lay still on the ground. He screamed his rage to the stars.
Ilsa Bennington was having hysterics. Only her husband’s soothing voice finally quieted her shrieks. She was screaming, “Ugly, they’re so ugly. Take me home, Tony, take me home!”
Jacob called out to Bennington as he moved through the cemetery of watching dead. “Bennington, you have your wife just like you asked.”
“I do, she’s perfect.”
“Then transfer the rest of the funds.”
“I will once my wife is safely home.”
“Three of my men are captured. One of my men is dead; the other is lost to me, and I just hit Ellen harder than I’ve ever hit a woman before. Make the damn call now.” There was an edge of a growl in his voice.
Bennington looked offended, but he also looked a little scared. Maybe he was scared of Jacob, or maybe it was the zombies. There was plenty to be scared of in that cemetery. Bennington got a cell phone out of his expensive suit and made the call. “It should be in your account now.”
Jacob used his own phone to check on that. He nodded. “It’s in the account. Take your wife home.”
They started walking out between the silent watching dead. He was talking to her. “It’s all right, Ilsa. Don’t be afraid.”
“You have your money,” I said.
“Yes,” Jacob said.
“She will rot, Jacob. Even with this much power she won’t hold together. She can’t, because she’s a zombie and no matter how good she looks now, it won’t last.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“Absolutely, and how do you think a man like Tony Bennington will take it when his flirty wife starts to forget she’s alive and starts to rot?”
“He’ll go to the cops,” Nicky said.
“Or he’ll hire someone else expensive to hunt you down, and he’ll kill my flirty boys if he can’t have his flirty girl.”
“What are you asking me?”
“I’m asking you not to interfere, that’s it.”
“What are you going to do?”