Hong started to protest, but I pushed past her and headed toward the door. In a clean corner of the floor, Ricky sat sorting his coins into piles. His supervisor stared at the pool of black stuff, rubbing his neck.
Poor Gary, I thought, pushing open the door. He never did get the chance to talk Shakespeare with Juliet.
13
AS I CROSSED BOSTON COMMON, THICK CLOUDS LOOMED overhead, threatening snow, but at least the cloud cover warmed up the day a little. If you call five or six degrees below freezing warm. The skaters on the Frog Pond didn’t seem to mind the cold. Bundled up in a rainbow of brightly colored jackets, hats, and mittens, they laughed and twirled and zipped around and around the frozen pond. Couples held hands. Little kids toppled over and got up again, standing shakily on their skates and waving away Mom’s or Nanny’s proffered hand.
The cold, gloomy weather matched my mood better than theirs. I exited the Common, crossed Beacon Street, and turned left, passing tall, stately houses built of brick and stone, unable to blot out the images that pushed into my mind. A stub of finger wearing a ring. Three brass buttons streaked with filth. Pools of stinking black goo. I hoped Daniel had some answers.
As I turned right toward the footbridge over Storrow Drive, I also hoped I hadn’t missed him. I was ten minutes late, and it was the middle of a workday for him. A crazy workday, from what he’d said, with Commissioner Hampson up in arms. He was taking a risk to meet me.
It was colder on the footbridge. The icy wind from the Charles River smacked me full in the face. I narrowed my watering eyes and hurried across the bridge. From here, I could see a few lunchtime fitness fanatics running along the Esplanade. And a single pacing figure, his collar turned up against the wind.
“Daniel!” I shouted, but the wind blew my words away. I doubted he could hear me over the roar of Storrow Drive traffic, anyway. But he was waiting for me. I broke into a jog.
He was checking his watch as I puffed up to him. He saw me and grinned, his smile a sudden beam of sunlight in the dim day. He stepped forward, raising his arms like he wanted to give me a hug, but he stopped and shoved his hands into his coat pockets. His smile stayed in place.
I could’ve used the hug. Why was Daniel always so tentative around me?
“Sorry I’m late,” I said, then blurted out the question that had bothered me all the way over here. “Why didn’t you tell me the second zombie death happened in my building?”
Daniel’s smile melted into a puzzled half-scowl. That’s when it hit me: Daniel couldn’t have known about Gary’s death. Until I’d stumbled across the scene half an hour ago, Clyde hadn’t called anyone besides the cleaning company.
When Daniel had said, “It’s happened again,” he’d been talking about someone else.
We stared at each other, horrified realization dawning. “Who was killed in your building?” Daniel asked.
“The night doorman, Gary. He was new. But this is the first you’ve heard about it, right?”
He nodded. “I was talking about a Goon Squad officer. Brian Sykes.”
Oh, God, no.
A gust from the river slammed into me. Not Sykes. Not the one zombie who could walk away from a bleeding human. Not the guy who put up with an asshole partner and tried to do the right thing.
“I knew him, Daniel.” My voice shook. “I knew all of them.”
More than two thousand zombies lived in Deadtown. I was on speaking terms with—how many? Maybe fifty, sixty? All three deaths were zombies I knew. I didn’t like those odds.
“You’re shivering,” Daniel said, putting his arm around my shoulders. “Let’s walk.”
My feet started moving, but I didn’t see where we were going. What I saw was Difethwr’s hideous face, laughing at me in my dreams. Since its return, the Destroyer had appeared to me three times: in the dream where it destroyed my watch, in Tyler’s dream, and in my dream-phone call to Mab. Three visits from the Destroyer. Three zombie deaths.
The day darkened as another realization hit me. I thought back. Yes, it was true. In each case, the zombie who died was the last zombie I’d spoken to before I encountered the Destroyer in a dream.
I called T.J. to ask about my watch, and then I went to bed.
I spoke to Sykes outside Creature Comforts, and then I left the Zone and went to work in Tyler’s dream.
I introduced myself to Gary, and then I called Mab on the dream phone.
Shit. It was me. Somehow, the Destroyer had used me to zero in on each victim.
No wonder Mab didn’t want me to fall asleep.
I explained all this to Daniel, who listened without interruption, nodding from time to time. “When did Sykes die?” I asked.
“Between the time he talked to that reporter and the time his partner knocked on his door at about two thirty A.M.”
That fit. I’d been in Tyler’s dream until two. “Norden found him?”
“Yeah. He wanted to see how Sykes was holding up after the commissioner suspended him. When Norden discovered Sykes’s remains, he went straight to headquarters and tore the place apart. That’s how I heard about it.”
“What happened?”
“Norden got suspended. There’s talk of pressing charges against him.”
“Hampson has to open an investigation now,” I said. “A police officer has been killed.”
Daniel shook his head. “Not going to happen. He’d like nothing better than to dismantle the Goon Squad. He can’t because they’re the only ones willing to patrol Deadtown and the Zone. He’s probably hoping that whatever did this will wipe out all the zombies in Deadtown.”
“I won’t let that happen.” I’d beaten Difethwr once before; I could do it again—somehow. We stopped walking and stared gloomily over the Charles. “I get it that the Destroyer is using our bond to sneak into dreams. What I don’t understand is how it’s killing the zombies. You know how the Hellion kills. It burns.”
“Yeah. Without leaving a mark on the body.”
I nodded, touching my jacket sleeve over my own demon mark. The scar there wasn’t from Difethwr’s fire; my aunt had slashed the spot with a knife to let out the Hellion’s essence. If she hadn’t, I’d have died within days, burned from the inside out.
“I’ve never encountered a demon that kills this way.” That didn’t mean such demons didn’t exist, of course. It’s time for the next level of your training. I’d thought I was an expert demon fighter, but apparently I still had a lot to learn. “I was hoping you could tell me more about that. You said you had information about T.J.”
“Right. I talked to one of the lab guys.” A half-smile touched his lips. “It’s ironic. If there’d been an official investigation, we would’ve waited at least a month to get test results. But because the guy was curious, he stayed late last night to run the analysis.”
“And what—?”
“Ms. Vaughn!” A woman’s voice shouted behind us, from the direction of Storrow Drive. I stepped away from Daniel and turned around to see a woman in a red parka running over the frosted grass.
“It’s Lynne Hong,” I said. Damn it, how did she know I was here? “The reporter Sykes talked to. Maybe you should take off.” Daniel was already walking a thin line at work.
He watched her approach, then turned to me. His blue eyes searched my face. “I’ll stay.”
Hong was panting by the time she made it across the grass to where we stood.
“We’re out here freezing our butts off because we wanted some privacy,” I said by way of a greeting. “How did you find me?”
“My driver was waiting outside the checkpoint. I called and told him to follow you.” She brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “He almost lost you when you cut across the Common.”
I wasn’t in the mood to praise her driver’s people-following skills, so I didn’t say anything. Plus I was annoyed I hadn’t spotted the guy.
She held out a mittened hand to Daniel. “I’m Lynne Hong,” she said. “And you are?”
“Not sure I want to talk to you.” He kept his hands in his pockets.
Hong let her hand drop. Her eyes went back and forth, regarding us both. “How can I convince you I’m not the enemy?”
“By going away and leaving us alone,” I said. It was a good suggestion. I liked it a lot. But somehow, I didn’t think she’d take it.
“Ms. Vaughn, Officer Sykes wants me to get this story out. I haven’t been able to reach him today, but as soon as I do, I’ll set up another interview.”
“You didn’t care enough about the story to air it yesterday,” I said, my voice thrumming with anger. “And today Brian Sykes is dead.”
Her mouth dropped open, but no sound emerged.
“Sykes died the same way as the other two,” Daniel said. “And Hampson is suppressing all attempts to investigate.”
“How do you know this?”
“I’m a cop.”
Hong’s eyes widened, and she started digging in her bag for her notebook.
“Wait.” I laid my hand on Daniel’s arm. “You don’t have to talk to her. Don’t endanger your job.” Sykes had wanted to be a voice for T.J. Who was going to speak for Sykes? Someone, but it didn’t have to be Daniel. I could do it. I turned to Hong, “I’ll—”
But she was eyeballing Daniel and seemed to have forgotten all about me. “You can remain anonymous.”
Daniel stared off into the distance, the wind ruffling his curls. He ran both hands through his hair. “What Hampson’s doing is wrong,” he said. “He’s supposed to uphold the law. If three humans died like that in two days …” His voice trailed off. He offered Hong his hand. “My name is Daniel Costello. I’m a homicide detective, and I have some information about the zombie deaths. But if I talk to you and Hampson finds out, I’ll lose my job.”
