Micah - By Laurell K. Hamilton Page 0,32

to my ear and whispered, "He smells like fear."

The lawyer for the accused was allowed to be nervous, but fear? That seemed a bit strong. Was he afraid of the graveyard and the whole zombie thing, or was it something else?

There was a wire mesh cage over to one side with a chicken in it. The bird clucked softly to itself, making the sleepy noises chickens make when they're settling down for the night. The chicken wasn't afraid. It didn't know it had been brought to play blood sacrifice. Larry would have needed it. I didn't. I'd discovered that I could use a little bit of my own blood to represent the sacrifice needed to raise the dead by accident. Or necessity, after Marianne, the woman who was helping me learn to control my metaphysical abilities, had gotten grief from her coven.

She hadn't been Wiccan when I first started going to her. She'd just been psychic. Then she got religion, and suddenly she was asking if I could raise the dead without killing an animal. Something about her coven speculating that she, as my teacher, would take on some of my bad karma from doing death magic. So I tried. I could do it. The zombie wasn't always as well put together, or as smart, but it still talked and could answer questions. Good enough for government work, as they say. But constantly having cuts all over my left hand and arm got old. I refused to cut my gun hand. It hurt, and I was beginning to run out of fresh places to cut. I decided that since I ate meat anyway, it wasn't so different from slaughtering a few animals to do my job. But the whole experience had taught me that I could, if I had to, raise the newly dead without killing an animal. Very recently, I'd discovered that I didn't need any blood to raise a zombie sometimes.

I guess I should have known I could, because I'd accidentally raised the dead when I was younger. A beloved dog that crawled out of the grave to follow me home; a college prof that committed suicide and came to my dorm room one night.

That should have told me that the blood wasn't absolutely necessary, but I'd been taught zombie-raising by a man who needed the blood, needed the sacrifice, needed the herbal salve, and all of it. I'd done it the way I'd been taught, until recently.

I was saving the lives of a lot of livestock, but it wasn't doing my nerves any good.

The judge asked in a voice that managed to be both friendly and condescending, "Could you explain what you're about to do so we'll understand what's happening and for Elaine--Ms. Beck--to get it into the court record?" He motioned at the dark-haired woman at her little folding stool and table.

His request stopped me. In all the years I'd been raising the dead, no one had ever asked me to explain. Most people treated me like a dirty little secret. Something you may need to do, but you don't want to know the details. Like sausage making. People love eating sausage, but they don't want to know too many details about how it's made.

I closed my mouth, then managed to say, "Fine." Of course, since I'd never explained before, I wasn't sure how to explain at all. How do you explain magic to people who don't do magic? How do you explain psychic gifts to people who have none? Hell if I knew, but I tried.

"First we'll do a circle of protection," I said.

Salvia asked, "I have a question for Marshal Blake."

"She's not a witness, Mr. Salvia," the judge said.

"Without her abilities, this testimony would be impossible to retrieve. Is that not true, your honor?"

The judge seemed to think about that for a second or two. "Yes, but all I've asked of the marshal is that she explain the mechanics of what she is about to do. That isn't witness testimony."

"No, but she is an expert witness, the same as any other forensic expert."

"I'm not certain that an animator is a forensic expert, Mr. Salvia."

"But she is an expert on raising the dead, correct?"

Again the judge thought about it. He saw the trap that his little request for an explanation for the court record had gotten us into. If I had information for the court record, then my information was suddenly open to questioning by the attorneys. Shit.

"I will concede that Marshal Blake is an