I’d reached a contemporary station morning show, complete with giggling hosts, when Jeremy rapped at the window. I opened the door and climbed into the back as they loaded the groceries into the rear hatch.
Back to the hotel. As we walked into the lobby, Nick was telling us about his trip to Cleveland last week, where he’d sat in on labor dispute talks at one of his father’s factories.
Clay looked over at Antonio. “What’d he do to deserve that?”
Antonio laughed. “It wasn’t a punishment. He volunteered.”
I nudged Nick. “So what’d you do…that you haven’t told him about yet?”
“Ha-ha. I volunteered with no ulterior motive. I told you I’m trying to learn more about the business.”
“So how’d it go?”
“It was…interesting.”
“In other words, boring as hell,” Clay said as we passed the lounge. “In Cleveland, no less.”
“ Cleveland ’s not that bad-”
“Jeremy!” a woman’s voice called.
We all turned, tracking her to the lounge. There, in one of the oversized armchairs, a woman was getting to her feet, hand raised in a hesitant wave, an even more hesitant smile on her face. She wore a yellow sundress that showed off a generous portion of bare leg. Red hair tumbled down her back in that sort of artless, sexy tangle you usually only see on cover models.
“Jaime,” Jeremy said, and headed toward her.
She stepped forward…and tripped over the suitcase she’d propped at her feet. Jeremy lunged to steady her, and we all hurried forward, except Clay, who let out a small sigh before bringing up the rear.
Jaime regained her balance with mumbled apologies, her face going as red as her hair. She reached down for her suitcase and bopped heads with Jeremy, who was already picking it up. More apologies.
“Hey, Jaime,” I said, walking forward. “This is a surprise.”
Behind me, Clay made a small noise, as if it wasn’t a surprise to him at all. Jaime’s gaze swung to mine and, with a soft exhale of relief, she sidestepped Jeremy and hurried over to me.
“Elena. God, you look-”
“Huge?”
“I was going to say ‘great.’ So how’s the baby? Kicking yet? Keeping you up at night?”
“Not yet,” I said. “I-”
“What are you doing here, Jaime?” Clay asked.
I glowered at him.
“What?” he said. “If no one else is going to ask…”
“I’m sure you’re all wondering the same thing,” Jaime said. “I had a late show last night, and didn’t get Jeremy’s message until the wee hours.”
“So you hopped on a plane to deliver your reply in person?” Clay asked.
Jaime only laughed. “Something like that. Actually, I’m planning a Toronto show this winter, and I’ve been meaning to check out potential venues. I hate relying on staff for that-they always get a place that fits all the requirements but…” A small shiver. “Well, there are things they can’t check. I’ve done one too many shows in a spook-infested auditorium. Anyway, this seemed like a good time to visit. I can offer my services to you guys while I’m here, and save you some money on long-distance phone bills.”
“Great,” I said. “Maybe you can contact-”
Jeremy motioned for me to wait before he interrupted. “Let’s take this conversation upstairs, where we can talk privately…and get Elena a proper breakfast.”
Jeremy bent to lift Jaime’s carry-on bag, but Clay and Nick stepped forward, one grabbing the suitcase, the other the carry-on.
“Jaime, you remember Antonio and Nick?” Jeremy asked.
She did. Last winter, the five of us had gone skiing in Vermont at the same time Jaime was doing an appearance at a nearby resort, and we’d spent an afternoon and evening together. As I might have expected, Nick had been keen to get to know Jaime better, but once he’d realized her interests lay elsewhere-and where they lay-he’d backed off.
We laid out a spread of bagels with cheese, blintzes and fruit in Jeremy’s room as we talked things over.
“So you guys could probably use some on-scene necro help to deal with the zombies,” Jaime said.
“This might be more than you bargained for,” Jeremy warned her. “Did you get a notice about the cholera on the plane? That appears to be connected. And the reason I called you last night was to say that these zombies aren’t as easy to kill as we thought. This might not be the sort of thing you want to get involved in.”
She managed a smile. “Because I have a bad habit of needing rescue every time I do get involved?”
“There is that,” Clay muttered.
Jaime waved me off before I could jump in. “Clay’s right. My track record sucks. I always end up playing damsel-in-distress.”
“No,” Jeremy said. “You’ve had some bad luck, but only because your skills made you a target.”
“And the bad guys love to pick on the defenseless necromancer. This time, though, I swear I won’t get kidnapped or possessed.”
The corners of Jeremy’s mouth twitched. “All right, then. If you’re sure you want to-”
“I do.”
“Then I’d welcome the help.”
Antonio, Nick and I chimed in with our agreement, but Jaime’s gaze swept past us to Clay.
“Long as you’re here, you might as well stay,” he said. “Hang around and do your stuff until we can use you.”
“What Clay means is-” I began.
“Exactly what he said,” she said. “If Clayton says I can stay, I feel almost welcome. Now, let’s talk about zombies.”
“Controlled zombies,” she said after I finished. “Don’t ask me how that’s possible, but that has to be the answer. Remember I said I’d make some calls? Well, I didn’t find out much that seemed helpful at the time, but I did learn a few things about controlled dimensional zombies. Like ones controlled by a necromancer, they can’t be killed until that control is severed. Instead of just staying alive, though, they disintegrate, and their soul returns to the dimensional holding tank. If the door’s still open…”
“They walk back out.”
“Logically, these shouldn’t be controlled zombies. But if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck…It would also explain why that one at the truck stop was so quick to follow you.”
“His controller sent him after me,” I said.
“Right. The controller must want the letter back, and he’s convinced the zombies that getting it will benefit them.”
“Would they need that incentive?” Jeremy said.
“It would help. Zombies have to do what their controller says, but they do a better job when properly motivated.”
“Like any worker,” Antonio said.
Jaime smiled. “Exactly. They still have conscious will, if not free will.”
I pushed off the end of the bed and crossed the room to stretch my legs…and get another peach. “But we’re back to the original problem with the controller theory. The portal was created a hundred and twenty years ago. To still be alive, that sorcerer would need to have found the secret to immortality, which, unless I’m mistaken, is unlikely to the point of impossible.”
“Could something like that be passed on generationally?” Jeremy asked.
“Like ‘I hereby bequeath control of my zombies to my son’?” She paused. “I suppose it’s possible.”
I nodded. “If so, then it would also make sense to pass on the portal itself…or the device that contains it.”
“Patrick Shanahan?” Clay said.
Jeremy nodded, and explained who Shanahan was.
“Shanahan could be it,” Jaime said. “If his grandfather commissioned the theft, it could have been to get his own portal back.”
“It would be more likely to be a great-grandfather,” Jeremy mused. “Or even great-great, given the timing.”
“Maybe he was Jack the Ripper,” Nick said. “The great-grandfather.”