The Wild Side: Urban Fantasy with an Erotic Edge (18 page)

“Alex, I didn’t want to get you involved.” Michael scrubbed a hand across his face. As soon as Michael moved his arm, the hair on Alex’s nape stood straight up. Alex growled low in his throat.

“Zombie.” He almost spat the word.

“Not yet,” Michael said. “But soon, too soon.” He closed his eyes. “We’re going to visit Swan. See if he can help me.”

“This happened when you went into the forest with the fairies,” Alex said.

“It wasn’t like that!” I said.

“They had nothing to do with this,” Michael said.

“Right,” Alex said. “It’s just convenient and totally unrelated.”

“Yes,” Michael said. “Why would they be so obvious about it?”

Alex threw his head back and howled. The misery in that sound ripped my heart in two. When he was done, he looked Michael straight in the eyes and said, “How can I help?”

A tension I didn’t even realize I was holding disappeared.

“You could get in big trouble, Alex,” Michael said. “Just turn around and leave us to it.”

“You’re my partner and friend,” Alex said. “Of course I’ll stand with you. What can I do?”

“Thank you,” Michael said. “Knowing you’re on our side is enough.”

“I’ll make sure the police stay off your backs,” Alex said. “Just keep me in the loop.”

* * *

Traffic was slow once we neared Victor’s house. I groaned when I saw why. I pulled the baseball cap lower over my eyes and slumped in my seat. Five media vans sat in front of the building.

“Great,” I said. “Not only do we have to figure out who’s behind this and cure you, but now we have to dodge paparazzi.” I wanted to scream.

“Sylvie, we can glamour the people here and sneak into Victor’s house,” Grig said.

“Let’s wait and see what’s going on first,” Michael said.

We watched in horror as two burly police officers forcibly escorted Victor, in handcuffs, out his front door.

The flash of the media’s cameras was blinding. I could hear the press calling out “Why did you do it?” and “Where are they now?” as they crowded around Victor before the cops shoved him into the police car.

Victor kept his head down and never opened his mouth.

“Somebody made that connection pretty quickly,” Michael said.

“Now what do we do?” Lucy said. “Victor was going to fix everything.”

Michael pulled out his cell phone. “Alex. They just picked up Victor Swan. Could you have him put in a private investigation room until I get there? I want to question him about those zombies before anyone else talks to him.” He paused. “I appreciate it. What? Good idea. Let me know what you find.” He hung up.

“Victor didn’t send those zombies after you,” Lucy said.

Michael wiped a hand across his sweaty brow. “Prove it,” he said.

Lucy lowered her head and said nothing.

* * *

Michael pulled me aside when we got to the station house. “Tonight, Alex and his pack are following the zombie trail to its origination point.”

“They can trace the zombies to the source?” I said.

“Alex thinks so,” he said, wiping his brow. “How do I look? Will I pass as uninfected?”

“Your eyes are a little bloodshot, and you look like you’ve just run a few blocks, but I’d still do you.” I smoothed his sweaty hair before kissing him lightly. “Just to be safe, I’ll throw a glamour around you.”

“Let’s do this then.”

We walked, hand in hand, Grig and Lucy behind us, to the staff sergeant’s desk.

“I’m here for Victor Swan,” Michael said.

“We got a call,” the sergeant said. “He’s upstairs in Interrogation Room 3. Scum like Swan shouldn’t be allowed to walk the streets.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Michael said.

Victor sat facing us, on the far side of a large table, his chair tilted back on two legs, his feet propped on the table.

“Lucy,” he nodded at the redhead. “Have they brought you in about the zombies, too? Does he,” he glared at Michael, “think you did it?”

“No,” Lucy squeaked, blushing. “I . . . I’m here to help. Michael’s been bitten.”

Victor raised an eyebrow. “Really?” He started laughing. “Fate must have a sense of humor after all. You clearly need my help now. Why should I bother?”

“I told you he’d say no.” Michael turned to leave.

I grabbed his arm and forced him to look at me. “This is our only hope.”

“Fuck,” Michael said, running his hand through his hair. He paced the room before turning back to Victor.

“I’m giving my consent,” Michael said. “The others never had a choice.”

Victor opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Our eyes met.

“This could be good for you too, Victor,” Lucy said. “If you cure him, people will realize you were right.”

“Please,” I spoke the word I knew Michael would never utter.

Victor turned to Michael. “You still think I’m a monster?”

Michael nodded. “I’m only here because of Sylvie.”

“Well, you’re truthful. I’ll give you that.” He paused.

“We have the resources of Faery at our disposal,” Grig said. “We can make you rich beyond your wildest dreams.”

“Tempting,” said Victor. “But what I want, Faery can’t give me.” He looked at Michael. “I want my life back.”

“No,” Michael said.

“Then why should I even consider this? Everyone already believes I engineered the attack at your wedding. If I kill you while doing illegal experimentation on you, they’ll throw the book at me.”

“Please.” I mouthed again.

“I want my name cleared first.”

“He could be dead by then,” I said.

Victor shrugged. “I won’t do anything until you find the real culprit.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do before then?” Grig asked. “Not to cure him,” he added at Victor’s negative headshake. “To help us clear your name?”

“You want me to help clear my own name?” Victor scoffed.

“Who better?” Lucy said.

“Good point,” he said. “I suppose we could do an Origins Spell.”

“What’s an Origins Spell?” Lucy asked.

“It’s a spell cast to call the maker back to its spawn,” Victor said.

“We already have werewolves doing that,” Michael said.

“All the werewolves do is track the scent. I can bring the maker here.”

“How?” Lucy asked.

“We use a vial of blood from one of the zombies, something organic from the site where you were attacked, and magic to bind it together.”

“Can’t you use my blood?” Michael asked.

“I could. However, that would be breaking the law, because you’re still a living zombie. Until you clear my name, I’m not taking any more chances. Lucy can get the blood from the zombies at the morgue.”

“It won’t be admissible in a court of law,” Lucy said. “The laws are very strict about the use and misuse of magic. Too many witches have been caught altering evidence or manufacturing clues to frame innocent people.”

“We’ll worry about that later,” Michael said.

“Can you do the spell here?” I asked.

“I can. In fact, I insist on it. I’m not leaving this room until you prove I had nothing to do with this attack.” He set his chair flat on the ground. “I’ll give you a list of what I’ll need from my lab.”

Michael turned to us. “Lucy, you’re in charge of blood. Grig, will you get dirt and grass from the clearing?”

“Of course,” Grig said. “I live to serve.” He ran out.

“Sylvie, you and I will get the supplies from the lab.”

“Use my car,” said Lucy. “My offices are just around the corner. I’ll walk.” She tossed me her keys as she left.

I rummaged through my purse, found a pen and an old receipt, and set them on the table in front of Victor. “Write down exactly what we need.”

“There is a way to slow the process, buy you a little more time,” Victor said as he handed me the list.

“How?” I asked.

“Humans have a natural defense against the virus. By revving Michael’s system, like an engine, it can supercharge his immune system. Every time his body goes through a build and release of energy, it starts the cycle again.”

“Okay. Let’s do that then,” I said.

Victor laughed. “You need to do that. I don’t do boys.”

I started laughing. “You’re kidding. You want us to . . . now?”

“I’m serious, Sylvie,” Victor said. “Sex is the answer.”

“No,” Michael said. “I refuse to endanger Sylvie. What if I infected her?”

“You can’t infect her,” Victor said. “You’re not undead yet.”

“You’re serious?” I said, still giggling.

“It works especially well when someone else is watching,” he said.

“That’s not going to be you,” I said as I pulled Michael from the room.

“This is the first time all day that I feel like there’s something I can do to help you,” I said to Michael.

“Help away,” Michael said as he led me, stumbling and still giggling, to a broom closet. The fear of being discovered added excitement and an element of danger to our play. We nibbled and nipped our way across every exposed piece of flesh, tearing at clothing in our haste to be together. Michael pushed aside my bra and drew my nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. I shuddered. I reached my hand down the front of his jeans, squeezing his rock-hard cock and stroking him with one hand while I pushed down his pants with the other.

“Come on, baby.” Michael was busy too. His fingers slid into me, his fingers and mouth creating a rhythm that impeded my breathing. My mouth went dry, and I felt my body flush and spasm around his fingers. “Yes,” he moaned against my breast. The sound reverberated through my body, making me twitch.

I groaned a protest as he removed his hand and mouth from my body, then groaned again as he grabbed my hips and lifted me before lowering me onto his cock. I exploded. Once. Twice. He continued to pound his way into me, his hands digging into my hips as he held me against the wall. When he finally went over the edge, I was a limp bundle in his arms.

“Look what I did!” I said, pointing to his ripped shirt.

“You’re an animal,” he said, kissing me. “Don’t worry, it just adds to my zombie mystique.”

I laughed. “Come on, Zombie Boy. Now that we’ve reset your clock, we have a crime to solve.”

When we got to Victor’s, police cordons blocked the property, and zombie freak was spray-painted, in dripping red letters, across his front door.

“Jail is probably the safest place for Victor right now,” Michael said.

“They’re treating him the same way the super community is treating us,” I observed.

Michael said nothing as he opened the front door and entered the house.

I expected to see evidence of Victor’s peculiar hobbies, but there was nothing unusual, just books everywhere with old comfortable chairs and overstuffed couches piled high with paperwork. We went into the basement laboratory and gathered the things on Victor’s list. I crammed everything but the fishing rod into a cloth grocery bag I found in the kitchen.

We were the first to arrive back at the stationhouse.

“What happened to you?” I asked Grig as he walked in a few minutes later. “You look like you’ve been in a battle with a lawnmower and lost.” His pants were tattered and torn at the hem. “Where’s your uniform jacket?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

There were long, ugly scratches across his chest and welts covering both arms. Luckily, fairies are quick healers. He’d be as good as new in a few hours.

“I’d make a joke about Toro mowers and your jacket as a cape, but I can see you’re not in the mood,” I said with a smile.

“Olé,” said Michael.

“Your werewolf cop friend attacked me, if you must know. I had to defend myself. I’ll be sending you the bill for a new uniform,” Grig said. He handed two baggies to Victor.

“You saw Alex there?” I asked.

“They thought I had something to do with the zombies,” Grig said.

“Did you?” Michael asked.

“You two just had sex, didn’t you?” Grig asked in disgust. “I can smell it, and you’re both acting like giddy schoolchildren. What if you infect her?” He snarled at Michael.

“No chance,” Victor said. “And it’s my fault. I told them to.”

Grig snorted and stood as far away from us as he could in the small room.

“I wonder what’s taking Lucy so long,” Michael looked at his watch. “She should have been back before all of us. We’re running out of time.”

“I’ll go check on her,” Grig said.

“We’ll go with you,” Michael said. He grabbed my hand, and we followed Grig from the room. Victor never even looked up.

“Why are we going with Grig?” I whispered to Michael.

“I don’t trust him,” Michael whispered back.

“Oh, please,” I said. “Now you’re being paranoid.” I patted his arm, but I was nervous. Paranoia was a symptom. How much time did we have left?

Everything was fine until we reached Lucy’s building.

I bumped into Michael as he stumbled getting out of the car. A tremor passed through his body as I clutched his shoulder to keep from falling.

“Michael?”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. A spasm distorted his face as another, more violent, tremor shook him from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. His face turned an alarming shade of red, and sweat exploded from every pore in his body, drenching his clothes.

“Michael!” I cried. He closed his eyes and sagged against me, the hectic color fading from his cheeks as his muscles relaxed.

“Blowjob?” He whispered.

I let out a choked sob of relief. “Let’s find Lucy first,” I said.

I put my arm through his, throwing a glamour around us as we walked into the building. Grig led us down the stairs to the morgue. There was no way anyone would see Michael as normal now. He was almost zombie.

The door to Lucy’s office stood ajar. Grig pushed it further with the tip of his sword. It opened with a squeak, but that was the only sound.

“Lucy?” He called through the doorway. “Are you in here?”

“Yes.” She burst into noisy sobs.

I pushed past Grig. Lucy sat in a heap on the floor. Broken glass and scattered paperwork surrounded her. Her office looked like a tornado had touched down in it.

“What happened?” asked Grig as he helped Lucy to her feet.

“I don’t know,” she said sniffling. “I remember coming in here to get the samples, and then I woke up on the floor with a headache the size of Montana.”