Micah - By Laurell K. Hamilton Page 0,30

when my shields are down." That was a lie. It happened only if your abilities were similar to mine in some way, or you were so strongly psychic in some other way that you would sense any strong psychic gift used near you. Either Franklin had abilities with the dead like mediumship, being able to talk with the recently departed. Or he was powerful in some other way. Naw. If he'd been that gifted, he wouldn't have been able to hide it. I was betting that somewhere in his background was a family member who could talk to spirits. Someone he probably hated or was embarrassed about. You dislike most in others what you hate in yourself.

Fox said, "Is that right, Franklin? You bumped into the marshal."

Franklin nodded. "Yes." One word, no emotion to it, but the relief in his eyes was too raw. He turned away from Fox, from me, to hide those relieved eyes. He knew I knew, and he knew I'd lied for him. He owed me. I hoped he understood that.

Fox looked from one of us to the other, as if he suspected we were lying, or at least hiding something. He looked at Micah and got a shrug. Fox shook his head and said, "Fine." He looked at us a heartbeat longer, then shook his head, as if he'd decided to let it go. "We're going to be the last to arrive at graveside, Marshal Blake. I don't want to leave the federal judge and the lawyers waiting too long in the middle of a cemetery, so I'll lead the way. I think it will be faster that way."

I couldn't argue the faster part. "Then lead the way, Special Agent Fox."

He gave me one more hard look. It was a good look, as those kinds of looks go. But if he thought I was going to break down and fess up because of a hard look, he was wrong. I gave him a pleasant, even eager face, but nothing helpful.

He sighed and settled his shoulders, as if his shoulder holster chafed. He started off through the cemetery. Franklin fell into line behind him without a backward glance.

Micah and I followed them. Micah had us drop back enough to whisper, "You're having trouble controlling your power tonight, aren't you?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I am."

"Why?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I'm not sure."

"Then should you be raising the dead?"

"I think it will be one of the easier raisings I've ever done. There's so much power."

He grabbed my arm. "Do you even know that you're touching every tombstone as you walk by it?"

I stood there with his hand on my arm and stared at him. "I'm what?"

"You're caressing the tops of the tombstones like you'd stroke a hand through flowers in a field."

I looked at the worry in his face and knew that he wasn't lying, but... "Was I?"

"Yes," he said, and his grip on my arm was suddenly almost painful.

"You're hurting me," I said.

"Does it help?"

I frowned at him, then realized what he meant. The small pain had pushed back the power. I could think about something other than the dead. My first clear thought was fear. "I don't know what's wrong tonight. I really don't. I knew I was gaining abilities from the vampires, but I didn't think it would bleed over to the zombie stuff. I mean, that's my magic, not Jean-Claude's, not Richard's. Mine. Whatever happens metaphysically, it doesn't usually mess with my basic talent."

"Should you cancel tonight?" he asked.

I licked my lips, tasting the fresh lipstick I'd put on after we'd made love. I shook my head, moving into the circle of his arms. I hugged him. "If this is a new power level, then one night won't make a difference." I held him, breathing in the warm solidity of him.

"There's always a learning curve to new abilities, Anita," he whispered into my hair. "Even if that ability is only a stronger version of something else. Do we really want the learning curve to be on the FBI's dime?"

He had a point, a good one, but... "I'll be able to raise this zombie, Micah."

"But what else will you raise?" he asked.

I drew back enough to see his face. "How did you understand that?"

"Isn't that what you're afraid of? Not that you can't raise the dead, but that you'll raise more than you were paid for?"

I nodded. "Yeah." I shivered and drew away so I could rub my arms. "That's exactly it."

"The protective circle is usually to