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Maybe it was some remnant of an unremembered dream, or maybe there is no excuse, but whatever, I lost it. I panicked. If I’d been thinking clearly, I could have gotten out of a stupid blanket, but I wasn’t thinking anymore. My head was screaming, Trapped, trapped, we’re trapped!

Graham grabbed my arms, and I shoved an elbow back into him as hard as I could.

He let go and made a satisifying hummph sound. “Shit, you’ll crack a rib doing that.”

“Don’t grab me, okay, just don’t grab me.” My voice was breathy, but I was a touch calmer. Calm enough not to fight the stupid blanket. Calm enough not to struggle so that Graham thought something was wrong with me. My pulse was still wild in my throat, like I’d choke on it, but I could think again.

Requiem was there on his knees, looming over both of us. The panic flared through me in a cold wash that left my fingertips tingling with static, but I fought it off this time. I tried to relax as he pulled at the edge of the blanket and started to ease us free.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I think I had a bad dream.”

“No shit,” Graham said, and he sounded slightly offended.

I’d apologized once, he wasn’t getting it twice. Truth was I’d gotten claustrophobic from two things, a diving accident years ago, and waking up in a vampire’s coffin. Waking up in the tight darkness with a dead body wrapped around you. The stuff of nightmares.

There was a look on Requiem’s face that was eloquent. He knew I was lying, and I didn’t care. I made it policy not to parade my phobias in front of people. Never let people see what really scares you, they may use it against you later.

When he pulled enough blanket, I scrambled out, and was damn rude getting out of the Jeep. But I felt better as soon as I hit the open air. I took in deep breaths of the cool night air. About the time I got myself calmer, my lower body started to be cold. Shit.

“You’re shivering again,” Requiem said, from right behind me.

I jumped, because I hadn’t heard him slide out of the car. “I’m alright.”

“No, you are not.”

I frowned at him.

Graham slid out of the backseat. “He’s right.”

I frowned at them both. “It doesn’t matter how I feel. I’ve got a job to do.”

“Yes, you have a job to do, but how you feel still matters,” Requiem said.

I opened the front door and got my gym bag out of the seat. I didn’t leave it graveside because of the machete. The machete might only be magical in my hand, or in another animator’s hand, but it was still a damn long blade, and I didn’t trust civilians around it.

I shut the door, hit the beeper to lock it, and started walking back to the grave with the bag in hand. I’d gone about four feet into the grass, when I tripped and nearly fell.

Requiem’s hand was at my elbow. “You are not well.”

I stood there and let him steady me. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Usually raising the dead makes me feel good, better.”

“Tonight did not go as planned.”

I shook my head. “No, it didn’t. Part of that was my fault.”

“No,” he said.

“Yes,” I said, “I got distracted by all that new power and forgot to put up a protective circle. It keeps the zombie in, but it also keeps other things out. A lot of metaphysical shit likes to mess with bodies, if they get the chance. I knew better.”

“You were distracted.”

“Yeah.”

“Can I carry the bag for you?” Graham asked, though I noticed he was staying just out of reach. I wondered how hard I’d hit him in the ribs. I hadn’t hurt him, but I was more than human strong now, and I could have hurt him.

“Yeah, thanks,” I said.

He took the bag and then stood to one side and let Requiem and me go first. The vampire kept his hand on my elbow, and I let him. I was getting cold again.

“I’ve lost more blood than this before and not felt this bad,” I said, softly. One group of cars had left the cemetery, the group that had brought the suit. The lawyers from the winning side were at graveside, and there was a cheerful murmur of voices, as the descendants got to talk to their