Micah - Laurell K. Hamilton [36]
“Mr. Laban is right,” the judge said. “There is nothing in the literature about zombies being taken over by alien energy.” His voice held distaste, as if Salvia had actually proposed some sort of alien possession theory.
For all I knew, he had. I guess if the prosecution’s star witness can be raised from the dead to testify, then the defense is allowed to look for unusual help, too. Aliens seemed a little far-fetched, but hey, I raise the dead for a living and slay vampires. I really couldn’t throw stones.
“Marshal Blake, once you have your protective circle, how much more ritual will you need?” I think the judge was tired of the delays, too. Good—me getting impatient didn’t help much. But the judge getting impatient—that could be very helpful.
I thought about it and was glad he’d phrased the question the way he had. How much ritual would I need? A very different question from, What comes next in animating the dead? Once the circle was up, I deviated so far from normal animating ritual that it was like comparing apples to watermelons.
“Not much more, your honor.”
“Can you be more exact?” he asked.
“I’ll call Emmett Rose from the grave. Once he’s above ground, then I’ll put blood on or in his mouth, and he’ll be able to answer questions very soon after that.”
“Did you say you put blood on the zombie’s mouth?” Salvia again.
“Yes.”
“You’re going to have the zombie suck on the chicken?” This from one of the agents who had been waiting with the judge.
We all looked at him, and he had the grace to look embarrassed. “Sorry.”
“Not suck on the chicken, no. But I’ll spread the blood across the mouth.”
“Mr. Rose was a good Christian. Isn’t painting him up with chicken blood a violation of his religious freedom?” Salvia said.
The judge said, “As much as I appreciate your concern over Mr. Rose’s religious freedom, Mr. Salvia, I have to point out that he isn’t your client, and that the dead have no rights to violate.”
Of course, I had to add my two cents’ worth. I just couldn’t help myself. “Besides, Mr. Salvia, are you implying that you can’t be a good Christian if you sacrifice a few chickens and raise a few zombies?” The anger was creeping from my shoulders and into my voice. Micah started rubbing his hand up and down my arm, as if to remind me that he was there, and my temper was, too. But his touch did help make me think. I guess sometimes I needed an “assistant” for more than sex and blood. Sometimes I just needed a keeper.
I got a few startled looks. Salvia wasn’t the only one who’d assumed I wasn’t Christian. I don’t know why it still hurts my feelings, but it does. The judge said, “You may answer Marshal Blake’s question.” I was definitely not the only one sick of Salvia’s bitching.
“I didn’t mean to imply anything about your own religious beliefs, Marshal Blake. I apologize for assuming that you weren’t Christian.”
“Don’t worry about it, Salvia. Lots of people assume all sorts of shit about me.”
Micah whispered, “Anita.” One word, but enough.
I could have used the dead as an excuse, and it might even have been true, but the real reason was I’ve never held my temper well. I’m better sometimes, worse others, but it never takes long for me to get tired of assholes.
Salvia was pissing me off, and the judge with his Please explain the unexplainable, Marshal Blake wasn’t far behind in the pissing-me-off department.
“Sorry about that, your honor, but can we cut to the chase here?”
“I’m not sure what you mean by cutting to the chase, Marshal Blake.”
“Emmett Rose is the recently dead. I mean he hasn’t hit one year dead. It’s an easy job, your honor. A little blood, a little power, and voilà, a zombie. He’ll be able to answer questions. He’ll be able to be cross-examined. He’ll do everything you want him to be able to do. Having experienced Mr. Salvia’s questioning technique, I think the cross-examination may last a long damned time. So in the interest of all of us not spending the entire bloody night in the cemetery, can I please get on with it?”
Franklin