“What do you hope to gain from his recapture?” Dr. Nikas asked.
Marcus opened his mouth then closed it again. “Fuck if I know. Pierce never saw fit to tell me what he wanted from Kang.” He threw up his hands. “Fine. Kang is gone. More power to him. Now we can focus on the Kristi Charish shitstorm. Brian, will you catch me up on the latest intel?”
Brian and Marcus retreated to the far side of the room. I took the seat beside Dr. Nikas, wishing I knew how to erase the lines of stress on his face. “You want Kristi’s help.”
A sad smile touched Dr. Nikas’s mouth. “I cannot deny that her insight would be exceedingly valuable. And her point about having a personal stake in this is compelling. She wouldn’t want to risk the contagion spreading such that she herself might become infected, nor do I see her as genocidal via inaction.” At my blank expression, he clarified. “Not helping when she could unlock the answers.”
“I totally hate her, and I don’t trust her, but this is too important. I’ll support whatever you decide.” I tapped my nose. “You and Pierce can tell if she’s lying, right?”
“Alas, it’s quite difficult with her, unless she is caught off guard. She is comfortable in her lies, meaning there’s little change in her body chemistry through guilt or fear or anxiety, thus rendering our senses unreliable.”
The door banged open, and Pierce stepped in with Kyle right behind him. Pierce looked even grumpier than usual, which was no surprise considering Kang had made him into a Pierce-puppet.
His untamed eyebrows drew together in a glower. “There’ve been three new cases, according to my contact at the hospital.” He and Dr. Nikas exchanged a long look that practically shouted, We may not have a choice about accepting Kristi’s offer.
Kyle cleared his throat softly. “My contact in Chicago has informed me that Dr. Charish asked her assistant to ensure the Saberton private jet would be available this evening.”
I frowned. “She sure is confident we’ll welcome her with open arms.”
Dr. Nikas pushed to his feet. “No. Confident that I will.” The lines in his face deepened. “I’m sorry.”
Pierce moved to him and took his arm. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, my old friend. You’ve saved us a thousand times over already. I won’t fault you for failing to be omnipotent.”
“None of us will,” I said.
Dr. Nikas’s gaze traveled the room, resting briefly on each face before he dipped his head in acknowledgement. “It has always been my privilege and honor to serve the Tribe thus,” he murmured, though his eyes still looked bleak, and he didn’t smile.
“Are we doing this?” Marcus asked, forehead creased. “Allying with Charish?”
“We are,” Pierce said, voice resolute. “Angel, give me the number she called you from.” Then added, “Please.”
Slightly mollified by the attempt at courtesy, I found her number in my previous calls and held it so Pierce could dial it on the conference room phone.
“Marcus, you’ll need to speak for us,” Pierce said. “Tell her we welcome her here, but she’ll still have to submit to our security screening.” He dialed the number and pushed the speaker button.
I held back a derisive snort. Sure, Marcus would speak for the Tribe, but Pierce would feed him the words.
The ringing filled the room. Everyone stared at the phone. Five rings. Six. Didn’t the bitch have voicemail?
On the ninth ring, Kristi picked up. “This isn’t Angel’s number,” she said, voice silky and filled with confidence. She had the upper hand and knew it.
Marcus straightened. “Dr. Charish, this is Marcus Ivanov. I speak for Angel and the rest of us when I say—”
“How wonderful to hear your voice, Marcus! It’s been ages. I think the last time we chatted was at a party at your dear departed uncle’s house.”
Marcus cut a sharp look at Pierce. “Yes, it’s—”
“But if you’ve called to discuss my very generous offer, it’s Angel with whom I’ll speak.”
Pierce rolled his eyes.
“Angel’s right here,” Marcus said, giving me a helpless shrug.
“Ready and waiting,” I said with a heap of false cheer.
“Lovely. Take the damn thing off speaker. And everyone but Angel can leave the room.”
Marcus stepped back as if more than happy to relinquish this bullshit. Dr. Nikas squeezed my shoulder as he passed. Pierce looked ready to chew nails and didn’t budge.
I gave him a nod and picked up the handpiece. “Okay, it’s off speaker, and everyone else is gone. Though I’m not sure why you bothered with that. You know damn well the phone lines here are all monitored and recorded.”
“Oh, I know. Call it performance anxiety.” She trilled a laugh. “Besides, this feels friendlier, don’t you think?”
“Like hugging a cactus,” I muttered. “Anyway. You’re invited to the lab, and Dr. Nikas will share what he’s done so far.”
“That won’t do. A few too many unpleasant memories at that lab.”
“I know all about unpleasant memories,” I said through my teeth. “Abandoned factories, animal cages, that sort of thing.”
“I will use the facility at NuQuesCor,” she said, blithely ignoring my comment. “It has everything I’ll need, and Ari can consult there just as well as in his own lab. It’s as close to neutral ground as we’re likely to get.”
“Um. Sure.” NuQuesCor was the biotech company that Pietro had been part owner of and where Kristi had begun her zombie research. “You do know I can’t make these decisions, right?”
“Of course you can’t. But I doubt your superiors will be able to come up with a better option. Using the Tribe lab is off the table.”
“Fine. Whatever. I’ll pass it along.”
“Whatever,” she mimicked. “Now call the grownups back in so we can hammer out the details.”
• • •
“NuQuesCor should serve well enough,” Pierce said after Marcus hung up with Kristi. He glanced at Dr. Nikas. “Are you all right with that?”
“No, not personally,” he said, expression placid. “However, from the larger perspective it is a win-win. She won’t work in the Tribe lab, and I do not want her there. The NuQuesCor facility has most of the equipment and supplies we need. The rest can be transported.” He let out a soft sigh. “I will curb my fear.”
Pierce regarded him for a long moment. “Ari . . .”
Dr. Nikas held up a hand. “Dr. Charish—understandably—left no other option, and short of remaining at my lab, there is no better alternative for me. NuQuesCor is a smart choice for a neutral research base. I can do this.”
Pierce dipped his head in acknowledgement. “As Pietro’s heir, Marcus has an ownership share in the facility, which means we have full access. Moreover, we can easily manufacture a reason to clear out personnel and have privacy.”
Marcus crossed his arms. “We should send some people over now to make sure there are no nasty surprises lurking. Just in case.”
Pierce looked briefly surprised at Marcus’s input then nodded in approval. “Good call. We’ll get moving on that and make security arrangements for the facility.”
Everyone departed except for Dr. Nikas who had a thoughtful look on his face.
I put a hand on his arm. “Are you going to be okay?”
He covered my hand with his. “There will be only a few people there. My irrational fears shouldn’t hinder the work.”
“That’s not what I mean.” I met his warm brown eyes. “A year ago, Kristi tried to kill Philip in the cruelest way she could manage, by brain-starving him. When you found out, you said you’d made a huge mistake trusting her and that you would never do so again. I don’t deny that we have to accept her offer. And I know you’ll be on your toes. But you never . . .” I groped for the right words. “You never stopped admiring her
abilities as a scientist. And that’s okay,” I hurried to add. “I mean, even I have no trouble admitting she’s brilliant. I just worry about you.”
Dr. Nikas exhaled a long breath and folded to sit again. “I do admire Kristi—her knowledge, her skills, and the facile ease with which she draws conclusions and discovers new paths to explore. I have seen her at her very best, and for so long I could not help but feel as if there was still a chance to reach what might be left of her soul, bring her to care for how her accomplishments could aid others rather than how she would benefit, whether from power or money.” He passed a hand over his face. “I despised having her imprisoned here, coerced to work toward our ends. I know she is a murderess and kidnapper and worse, yet it never ceased to feel vile to use her. It was not justice. It was convenience. And after that incident with Philip, when I lost my temper and commanded she be starved as she starved him . . .” Self-loathing crawled over his face. “I returned to my rooms and wept. The next morning, I rescinded the punishment.” He looked at me with heart-breaking sorrow. “How can one blame a slave for striking out against her masters?”
“Do you think she can still be . . . saved?”
He shook his head. “I am neither foolish nor blind. She was a self-serving narcissist long before she encountered our people. But we destroyed what little hope there was for her to rein in her antisocial proclivities. I grieve for the woman—the person—Kristi might have been, but I have accepted that she is who she is. I will take full advantage of what she offers, and I will not waste efforts or energy attempting to redeem the irredeemable. And I will never trust her.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t imagine how agonizing it must be to give up on someone.” I surrendered to the urge and hugged him. There were certainly people who’d had given up on me, back when I was in full-blown Loser Mode.
“Thank you, Angel,” Dr. Nikas said softly. “Putting voice to my angst has loosed its stranglehold upon me. I am grateful for your insight and empathy.”
“I learned from the best.”
Chapter 19
I headed home, sick and unsettled about Kristi being back in our lives, despite my reassuring words to Dr. Nikas and despite our desperate need of her expertise.
But what if it wasn’t enough? What if animals other than alligators could get infected? What if mosquitoes really were transmitting the “zombie encephalitis” and this mess turned into an outright pandemic?
A shiver crawled down my back.
My dad. I needed to get him someplace safe. Out of town, preferably, until this all blew over and the danger was past.
If it ever blew over.
And what about the other people who mattered to me? The Tribe zombies were safe and immune, but not the cops I’d become friends with. Or my classmates. Or co-workers at the Coroner’s Office. Allen and Nick knew what to watch out for, and the other death investigators and morgue techs knew the basic procedures around bio hazards. But Reb, the secretary, might not. She was so kind-hearted that if someone shambled up to her, she’d give them a hug and buy them a hot meal. And get infected in return.
Yet I couldn’t warn everyone without coming off as batshit crazy.
So warn the ones you can.
I plugged my earbuds into my phone then dialed Randy’s number. The last time I’d seen him was after I kicked him and Coy Bates out of my car, told them to walk to the gas station, call the cops, and tell them everything they knew about the murder of movie producer Grayson Seeger. Not long after that, my arms and legs had decided to fall off, and Randy had been the last thing on my mind. Until now.
“Angel?” Surprise filled his voice.
“Hey, Randy. Look, I think maybe you should leave town.”
He sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh, fuck. Am I in trouble?”
“No! Sorry. No, it’s nothing like that. I promise. It’s just . . . I dunno if you’ve been watching the news, but some people have been getting sick.”
“Yeah, saw that.” He barked a laugh. “The ‘zombie seff-lite-us,’ right?”
I winced. “Yeah. Zombie- or necro-meningoencephalitis is what they’re calling it. I have an inside track on this kind of stuff since I work at the Coroner’s Office, so I know this thing is contagious.”
“Oh shit.” All humor left his voice. “Like how bad? In the air or sex or fluids or what?”
Well, how about that. Randy had more of a clue than I thought. “Right now it’s fluids. The people who have it like to bite, which transmits it. But it could get worse. I mean, there’s some talk that it might even be spread by mosquitoes and, well . . . I know we’re not dating anymore, but I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you. I was hoping that maybe you could get away from here for a while, at least until there’s a vaccine or treatment.” Please god let us find a treatment. A cure. Anything.
“Thanks, Angel,” he said with unexpected warmth. “That’s really sweet. I feel the same way about you. I’m finishing up a repair job on a private jet out at the Tucker Point Airport tonight. It came in Monday, but we’ve been waiting on a part for two goddam days and just got it. Once that’s done, I suppose I can take a road trip over to Houston and drop in on my dad.”
“That’s terrific,” I said, feeling a bit of the worry ease. It was one strand of a zillion, but every little bit helped. “Since when did you know how to repair planes?” Randy had fixed cars for as long as I’d known him. Maybe the occasional motorcycle, but that was about it.
“Since two weeks ago when I started apprenticing with the main aviation repair guy out there,” he said with a note of pride. “Figured it was ’bout time I got a proper job, y’know? Luke says I’m a natural. I guess I pick up that mechanical shit real easy. Like, I can just see how it’s supposed to work.”
“This is going to sound corny as all hell, but I’m really proud of you.”
“Well, you kinda inspired me. I mean, if a good-for-nothing like Angel Crawford can get her shit together . . .” He snickered.
“I can still kick your ass,” I warned, but I couldn’t help but grin.
“Oh, I know it. I’m gonna slather on some DEET then call my old man and let him know I’m heading that way tomorrow. He’ll either be thrilled or pissed.”
“I know your dad, and he’ll be thrilled,” I said. “Take care, and let me know if you run into any trouble.”
“You got it. Thanks, Angel.”
He disconnected. I stuffed my phone back in my purse. Now to talk a certain Mr. Jimmy Crawford into getting the hell out of town.
• • •
I expected to find my dad either napping or kicked back on the couch watching reality TV. What I did not want to find was my dad out smoking in the back yard.
Turned out it was none of the above. Instead, I walked in to find him sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the TV, game controller in hand and a gaming headset with mic holding down his wispy hair. On the screen was a busty blonde wearing a skimpy fur bikini and armor that barely covered her nipples. Dad jabbed a button, and the woman swung a fire-wreathed sword at a dog-sized beetle, slicing it cleanly in two.
My dad hooted in glee. “Yeah, take that, you little shitlickers!” His thumbs smashed buttons with fierce intensity as a silvery wasp-thing dove toward the bikini barbarian. Her arm jerked forward, skewering the bug. It exploded in a shower of sparks, and a giant “4” glowed briefly on the screen.
“Hot damn!” He whooped in delight. “Another level!”
“Hey, Dad,” I said then repeated myself at twice the volume.
He jerked around then yanked the headset off and scrambled to his feet. “Hey, Angelkins! Man, this thing is a real treat.” He gestured to the TV with the headset. “Um, I hope you ain’t mad that I cracked it open, but Libby down at Kaster’s called and said they was getting fumigated so they didn’t need me to come sweep up ’til tomorrow when they’d have al
l the dead bugs. So I was kinda bored, and the box was just sittin’ here . . .”
“I’m not mad,” I said, mouth twitching. “I am impressed you were able to get it set up.”
His chin went up. “I ain’t as dumb as I look, Angel.” Then he grinned sheepishly. “Plus, that Arnold Stein character who sent it included step-by-step directions that were written so easy a squirrel could follow ’em. Even got it hooked up to the internet. Directions said that was important.”
“That’s pretty cool. But why are you a porn star?” I cocked my head toward where the woman stood with her sword raised high, chest thrust forward, and back arched to show off her overly curvy ass.
His face scrunched. “Well, the directions said this character was all set up and ready for you. I tried to make me a man-type fighter, but I couldn’t figger out how to get him clothes and gear. I finally settled on it bein’ less weird to play a lady fighter than to be a guy struttin’ around with nothing but a hankie covering his junk.”
I choked back a laugh. “That sounds reasonable,” I managed then stepped closer to the TV and peered at the corner of the screen. “You named her Momzombique?”
“Nah. Came with that name. I’d’ve picked a name that wouldn’t twist my tongue all up. Like Beth. Somethin’ easy.”
“Beth the Barbarian. I like it.” Plus, now I was certain the game was from Andrew. But why? “I’d like to play it some,” I said, “but first you and I need to talk.”
I couldn’t bring myself to tell him I was the cause of the epidemic. At least not yet. But I filled him in on what was going on with the shamblers and how dangerous things were getting, then told him I wanted him to leave town for his own safety.
When I finished, he crossed his arms over his chest and gave me a defiant Jimmy Crawford glare. “Nope.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Dad, didn’t you hear a single thing I just said? Contagious disease that turns you into a zombie. And not the cool kind like me!”
“I heard you,” he said. “But I ain’t leaving, and you can’t make me.”