“Why is he being punished?”
“Are you worried about him?” Her voice held a mockery of surprise. “My, my, my, aren't you angry that he brought you into this?”
I stared at him for a moment. I knew then what I saw in his eyes. It was fear. He was afraid of Nikolaos. And I knew if I had any ally in this room, it was him. Fear will bind you closer than love, or hate, and it works a hell of a lot quicker. “No,” I said.
“No, no.” She minced the word, crying it up and down, a child's imitation. “Fine.” Her voice was suddenly lower, grownup, shimmering with heat, angry. “We will give you a gift, animator. We have a witness to the second murder. He saw Lucas die. He will tell you everything he saw, won't he, Zachary?” She smiled at the sandy-haired man.
Zachary nodded. He stepped from around the chair and swept a low bow towards me. His lips were too thin for his face, his smile crooked. Yet, the ice-green eyes stayed with me. I had seen that face before, but where?
He strode to a small door. I hadn't seen it before. It was hidden in the flickering shadows of the torches, but still I should have noticed. I glanced at Nikolaos, and she nodded at me, a smile curving her lips.
She had hidden the door from me without me knowing it. I tried to stand, pushing myself up with my hands. Mistake. I gasped and stood as quickly as I dared. The hands were already stiff with bruises and scrapes. If I lived until morning, I was going to be one sore puppy.
Zachary opened the door with a flourish, like a magician drawing a curtain. A man stood in the door. He was dressed in the remains of a business suit. A slender figure, a little thick around the middle, too many beers, too little exercise. He was maybe thirty.
“Come,” Zachary said.
The man moved out into the room. His eyes were round with fear. A pinkie ring winked in the firelight. He stank of fear and death.
He was still tanned, eyes still full. He could pass for human better than any vampire in the room, but he was more a corpse than any of them. It was just a matter of time. I raised the dead for a living. I knew a zombie when I saw one.
“Do you remember Nikolaos?” Zachary asked.
The zombie's human eyes grew large, and the color drained from his face. Damn, he looked human. “Yes.”
“You will answer Nikolaos's questions, do you understand that?”
“I understand.” His forehead wrinkled as if he were concentrating on something, something he couldn't quite remember.
“He would not answer our questions before. Would you?” Nikolaos said.
The zombie shook its head, eyes staring at her with a sort of fearful fascination. Birds must look at snakes that way.
“We tortured him, but he was most stubborn. Then before we could continue our work, he hung himself. We really should have taken his belt away.” She sounded wistful, pouty. The zombie was staring at her. “I … hung myself. I don't understand. I …”
“He doesn't know?” I asked.
Zachary smiled. “No, he doesn't. Isn't it fabulous? You know how hard it is to make one so human, that he forgets he has died.”
I knew. It meant somebody had a lot of power. Zachary was staring at the confused undead like he was a work of art. Precious.
“You raised him?” I asked.
Nikolaos said, “Did you not recognize a fellow animator?” She laughed, lightly, a breeze of far-off bells.
I glanced at Zachary's face. He was staring at me, eyes memorizing me. Face blank, with a thread of something making the skin under one eye jump. Anger, fear? Then he smiled at me, brilliant, echoing. Again there was that shock of recognition.
“Ask your question, Nikolaos. He has to answer now.”
“Is that true?” she asked me.
I hesitated, surprised that she had turned to me. “Yes.”
“Who killed the vampire, Lucas?”
He stared at her, face crumbling. His breathing was shallow and too fast.
“Why doesn't he answer me?”
“The question is too complex,” Zachary explained. “He may not remember who Lucas is.”
“Then you ask him the questions, and I expect him to answer.” Her voice was warm with threat.
Zachary turned with a flourish, spreading arms wide. “Ladies and gentlemen, behold, the undead.” He grinned at his own joke. No one else even smiled. I didn't get it either.
“Did you see a vampire murdered?”
The zombie nodded. “Yes.”
“How was he murdered?”
“Heart torn out, head cut off.” His voice was paper-thin with fear.
“Who tore out his heart?”
The zombie started to shake his head over and over, quick, jerky movements. “Don't know, don't know.”
“Ask him what killed the vampire,” I said.
Zachary shot me a look. His eyes were green glass. Bones stood out in his face. Rage sculpted him into a skeleton with canvas skin.
“This is my zombie, my business!”
“Zachary,” Nikolaos said.
He turned to her, movements stiff.
“It is a good question. A reasonable question.” Her voice was low, calm. No one was fooled. Hell must be full of voices like that. Deadly, but oh so reasonable.
“Ask her question, Zachary.”
He turned back to the zombie, hands balled into fists. I didn't understand where the anger was coming from. “What killed the vampire?”
“Don't understand.” The voice held a knife's edge of panic.
“What sort of creature tore out the heart? Was it a human?”
“No.”
“Was it another vampire?”
“No.”
This was why zombies still didn't do well in court. You had to lead them by the hand, so to speak, to get answers. Lawyers accused you of leading the witness. Which was true, but it didn't mean the zombie was lying.
“Then what killed the vampire?”
Again that head shaking, back and forth, back and forth. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He seemed to be choking on the words, as if someone had stuffed paper down his throat. “Can't!”
“What do you mean, can't?” Zachary screamed it at him and slapped him across the face. The zombie threw up its arms to cover its head. “You … will … answer … me.” Each word was punctuated with a slap.
The zombie fell to its knees and started to cry. “Can't!”
“Answer me, damn you!” He kicked the zombie, and it collapsed to the ground, rolling into a tight ball.
“Stop it” I walked towards them. “Stop it!”
He kicked the zombie one last time and turned on me. “It's my zombie! I can do what I want with him.”
“That used to be a human being. It deserves more respect than this.” I knelt by the crying zombie. I felt Zachary looming over me.
Nickolaos said, “Leave her alone, for now.”
He stood there like an angry shadow pressing over my back. I touched the zombie's arm. It flinched. “It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you.” Not going to hurt you. He had killed himself to escape. But not even the grave was sanctuary enough. Before tonight I would have said no animator would have raised the dead for such a purpose. Sometimes the world is a worse place than I want to know about.