I shook my head. “No, its fine, but when we start to get closer, we have to focus on the job.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“What can you do?”

It turned out that, for an untrained witch, Pamela had learned quite a lot. Spells cast by someone like me, someone who wasn’t a witch, always needed an ignition word. But as a witch, Pamela—like all those who were very talented—could spell with her mind and a quick movement of her hand. Once she ran through the list of spells she could manage, I picked a few.

“The spell for lighting up the darkness, can you crank that up so that it’s like a burst of light?”

Her footsteps on the pavement faltered, her pale brows furrowed in thought. “Yes, I think so.”

“Okay, when we get there I’ll give you the go, and you give a good burst of light. Then I can get in, grab our perp and be done with this.” It all sounded so good, so easy.

It had to work.

But with a plan, you just never knew if it was going to pan out or not; which was why I loathed to make them.

14

The three of us crouched behind a thick hedge, two houses down from the pristine old Victorian manor where the thrum of the deceased kid’s threads beat. Four stories high, the house was beautifully painted in blue with gold and cream accents along the windows and the columns. Stained glass was set in on some of the windows, giving off a splash of colour.

“It’s very pretty,” Pamela said, her eyes wide.

Alex sniffed the air. “Pretty stinky alrighty.”

I couldn’t smell anything over the greenery we were using for cover.

“You ready?” I looked over at Pamela, who nodded, her fingers clenching one another.

“Yes.”

“Okay, let’s go. I’m going to make my way onto the front steps. When I get there, you do a blast of light, okay?”

Again, she nodded, blinking rapidly. “What if I can’t?”

“You just stay back, that’s your job. If you can’t give off a burst of light, don’t worry about it.”

Patting her on the shoulder, I slipped out from behind the hedge and, using what I could for cover, made my way up onto the steps of the Victorian house. The kid’s threads were stronger yet, mingling inside my head like a steady pull, drawing me forward. I thought about Milly and her ability to twist threads and make me believe people were alive when they weren’t. No, she wasn’t in on this case, even if she was in London. I knew that much.

Turning ever so slightly, I raised my right hand, giving Pamela the signal and waited with my eyes closed.

Nothing. I peeked back at her and she shook her head.

Okay, going in on my own then. Nothing new here. I had a brief moment of guilt flash through me since Agent Valley had specifically asked that I wait on them. But this was different now; I had to get Liam away from Milly, which meant I had to get this case dealt with. Besides, the FBI and Interpol officers were likely in the middle of something important. Like a donut run. I wouldn’t want to disturb their routines.

One hand on the knob of the door, I twisted it carefully, slowly, and felt the door give a little. What bad guy didn’t lock their door? Either this idiot was so full of himself he couldn’t care . . . or a thought hit me, a rather unpleasant one that only just occurred. He could have a horde of the undead waiting for me. I’d never fought an actual zombie before and wasn’t sure what I felt about it, if anything. Like most supernatural creatures, if you remove the head, it was a safe bet you dealt the deathblow.

And if not, burn baby burn.

I stepped across the threshold, felt the slightest tingle of magic slither over my skin, disappearing as it touched me. Score one for the Immune. I closed the door behind me with a soft click.

Creeping into the house, I strained my ears, listening for the sound of anything that would give the Necromancer away. But the place was beyond silent.

Making my way to the stairway, I worked my way up, startled by the first picture I saw. Sophia, the first little girl who’d gone missing; her face relaxed in sleep. Or in her case, likely death.

All the way up the stairwell were pictures of the missing children, all of them with eyes closed, sleeping. Ripples of unease whispered down my spine. What the f**k was this guy into? Was he a pedophile of small dead children? Gods, I hoped not. I couldn’t imagine trying to tell any parent that their child’s body was used in such a way. Even if they were already dead.

I shook my head to clear the downward spiral of my thoughts. This guy would get his dues in a very short while. The second and third floors were clear. Which only left floor number four. As I stepped onto the final landing, the air around me shifted, tensing as if it were a living thing ready to strangle me. Not exactly a comforting image. Across from me was a single door painted in a garish red that seemed out of place with the rest of the house’s comforting paint job. The handle on the door was a gold lever, one that wouldn’t take much to break if I had to.

The scent of rot and mold lingered in the air, teasing my nose into a wrinkle. Yup, this was the right place. Adrenaline ticked through my bloodstream; close, I was so damn close! I could feel the kids, their threads humming along quite nicely. Perfect. I took a step and the threads seemed to quiver and then . . . f**k . . . they were hundreds of miles to the south!

Confusion and anger propelled me into action and I ran across the landing, slamming my body into the red door and busting it open. Rotting flesh and the smell of death warmed over rolled over me in a wave of disgusting air. Gagging, I dropped to one knee as I took in the room. With no lights on, the shadows that danced and wavered about almost looked human . . . of course, that’s when one ‘shadow’ wobbled out to greet me.

The zombie was a man, my height and extremely old. As in he’d been a zombie a long time. His skin was a mix of grey and green, body fluids oozed out from his mouth past broken and missing teeth. Nasty was an understatement. He let out a classic moan and headed my way. Slowly, but I knew that he wouldn’t stop until his orders, whatever they were, were completed. I’d never actually met a zombie before. Giselle had taught me about them, but I’d never had the chance to deal with one until that moment. Lucky me, I know.

“Come on, you snot dripping rotter. Hurry this the f**k up, I’ve got things to do.” I grabbed my sword handles and slipped the blades free of their sheaths. Swirling them, I loosened up my wrists for the coming impact of half-composted bones and blades.

Another shadow moved, closer to me than the first and a female zombie limped out of the corner. Two, I could handle two no problem—

Make that three. Then all the shadows shifted, and within seconds, I was facing at least twenty zombies, all staring at me like I was a McHappy meal. This was not good.

The thing was, I couldn’t run; I had to cross the Veil wherever the bastard Necromancer did in order to catch him.

I took as deep of a shallow breath as I could with the stench and methane filling the air and went for the closest rotter, removing his head and one arm as I slid close to him. Fuck, the smell was making my eyes water.

The group of zombies moaned as a unit as their buddy hit the floor, a gush of viscera and putrescent fluid washing out across my boots. Seriously, how the hell could anyone live with these things?

I moved through my sword fighting forms, flowing from one lethal blow into the next. Until I was grabbed from behind, hands wrapping themselves around my ankles and yanking hard.

The ground rushed up to meet me and I rolled, slashing out with my swords as I fell. By my count I’d taken out six of the twenty. Only fourteen more to go. Nothing to it.

Right.

The zombie on my feet was chewing on the bottom of my boot, so I ignored him for a moment while I dealt with the hands reaching for me. Lashing out, I whipped my one sword in an arc over my head, rotting arms flopping to the ground beside me. It didn’t stop the zombies, but it did give them less to get at me with. A swift kick and my boot chewer got his head crushed. They were so far gone it wasn’t going to take much. Then again, they were still—

Teeth slammed into my thigh as one zombie dropped on me mouth first. Arms were missing; teeth were still very much in working order.

“No biting, you little f**ker!” I punched the top of his head, my fist going straight through the bone and into the grey mass. The smell that erupted from his skull brought my gorge right up and out.

Puking to one side, I scrambled on all fours between their shambling feet, dragging my swords with me. I had to get my back to the wall—then I could deal with them. At least, that was the plan.

I made it to the wall and pushed myself up, the bite in my leg burning, the taste of vomit on my tongue. There wasn’t enough room for both swords to swing easily, but I sure as shit wasn’t putting one down. The closest zombie to me was only two feet away and I thrust my sword through his eye, dropping him with minimal effort.

“Come on, let’s get this over with.” I snarled, dispatching the last of the zombies one right after the other, never letting them get close enough to do any more damage.

Breathing hard, which was difficult in the noxious room, I stared at the bodies littered on the floor, their limbs and skin still twitching and jumping; fluids and rotten blood leaking from them.

“That is disgusting,” I said through my teeth. And I bloody well had to stay inside the room until I found where the Necromancer crossed the veil.

Stepping gingerly over the still twitching bodies, I searched the room, even using my second sight. Nothing. There wasn’t a single sign that there had ever even been a spot where the Veil was crossed. What the f**k was going—

Light bloomed inside the house, so brilliant it blinded me completely. With a yell, I backed up, once more putting my back against the wall.

The light faded from behind my closed lids, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to see just yet. Was this the Necromancer coming back? And me blind as a bat with cataracts. I was going to kill the son of a bitch Necromancer the minute I found him.

While I held still, waiting for the afterimages burned in my eyes to fade, something grabbed my boot. I kicked out wildly, the weight and feel of the object lending me to believe it was a zombie’s dismembered hand and arm. The fingers dug in, inexorably climbing up my pant leg. I opened my eyes, the images around me fuzzy and dark; indistinct lumps of shadows merged with everything. Fuck, this was a pain in the . . .