Hold Me Closer, Necromancer - Lish McBride [80]
Poor Mr. Davidson got put through the wringer just so I could learn a few things about zombies, like how strong they were, how easily controlled, and that they looked just as silly as live people when they did jumping jacks. Maybe I needed the lesson, but I think it could have been carried out in a more dignified way. David used to be a living being, after all. Again I felt like Douglas was giving me a dual lesson. Sure, he was showing me how to raise a zombie, but he was also showing me exactly what he was capable of. I could just as easily become the one doing the jumping jacks.
Finally satisfied, Douglas put David Andrew Davidson to rest. He ordered him back into the ground by his full name and waited until the floor completely resealed itself before he broke the circle.
“How come you needed his name to put him down, but not to raise him?” I asked.
“I used his name to call him; I simply didn’t shout it the first time. The name is unnecessary, though it makes things infinitely easier.” Douglas opened the cage and gestured me back in. I went quietly. “If you know the name, it’s easier to locate the soul. Without the soul,” he said, “we are nothing.” He locked the cage, acknowledging Brid with a nod, and then left without another word.
Brid lay on the floor, stomach down, slowly kicking her heels and looking the picture of the 1950s teenage girl. Except Brid was in a cage instead of sprawled on a fluffy, heart-shaped rug and talking into a princess phone. And, hopefully, she wasn’t adolescent either.
“How old are you?”
“How old do you want me to be?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.
“Stop that.”
“Fine. I just turned nineteen.” She took her chin out of her hands, using her arms to brace herself up instead. “And what have we learned today?”
“Zombies are strong, they don’t feel pain.” I paused. “Physical pain anyway.” David had certainly been able to feel remembered pain. You don’t scream like that unless you feel something. “They also don’t tire, and Douglas is an asshole.”
“We already knew the last one,” she said.
“Yeah, but I felt like we needed to go over it again.” I sprawled on the floor next to her. “Oh, and if I control the zombie completely, I can order it around.”
“And?”
I scratched my head. Man, I could have really used a shower. “And what?”
Brid nodded down at the floor. “Where’s the blood?”
The floor, though still stained, appeared to be empty of even the slightest drop of blood. Interesting.
“Either it came off when David the Zombie scrubbed or it drained when the floor cracked, right?”
“No,” she said. “I watched. The blood sort of…oozed into the floor before that. Kind of creepy, really.” She ran her fingers through her bangs, hand-combing them. “What was it like?”
“Awesome,” I said. “Terrifying. Nauseating.”
She eyed me from beneath her hair. “So you aren’t going to go out and start your own undead slave business?”
“No.” The answer came without hesitation.
“Not even tempted a little? Raise a math whiz and get him to do your homework for you? Have a zombie architect design your house?”
“No way,” I said. I thought of Brooke, sitting at home in a bowling bag. “No one deserves to be treated that way.”
“I knew you were a nice boy,” she said, leaning over and nudging me with her shoulder.