of getting your throat cut is a damn long time,” I shot back. “Why the hell aren’t they using magic? It’s not like there aren’t plenty of Jewish wizards. Any decent Talent could put ’em right to sleep, no pain at all.”
“That would still be a really crap job,” the Warlock said, sounding uncomfortable. “I don’t know anyone who’d want to do that—”
“Moses on a moped! They could enchant the knives, the rope, the damn slaughterhouse itself!” I exclaimed, the pain in my head a buzzing sting like a wasp trapped behind my eyes. “This shit should not be going on in a world with magic. Period. The steer was born to be meat, fine, I get that, but his death shouldn’t have been like that.”
“Nobody’s death is ever much fun,” Cooper said, rubbing his temples. “But then nobody’s birth is, either.”
“So why did this happen? What’s going on?” I asked him.
“We can’t expect to do a resurrection without some lingering side effects,” Cooper replied.
“A res—…” My voice failed for a moment when I realized what he meant. “No. That’s not what we did. Your—your brothers, they were alive, we just, you know, brought them back from the hell …”
“They were alive when they went in, yes,” Cooper said quietly. “But look at me. I was only in there a few days … they were in there for years …”
He trailed off.
Oh God, what had we done? A resurrection was considered one of the most taboo kinds of sorcery. The ritual demanded black magic that stained your soul like nobody’s business; or at least that’s what I’d always heard. Oh God.
“But they’re fine now. Right?” Feeling my heart slamming in my chest, I looked from Cooper to Mother Karen. “The babies are fine now, right?”
“Well, yes,” Mother Karen replied. “They seem fine. Ish.”
“Ish? Fine-ish? What does that mean?” I demanded.
“Well, you know, they clearly have a few problems we’ll need to deal with; nightmares and such—”
“But they’re not demons, right?” I stared at the steak lump still twitching under the flower print napkin. “They’re not … undead or something, right?”
“No, no, of course not,” Mother Karen said. “All things considered, they seem very healthy.”
“Getting the kids out of there was the right thing to do,” Cooper said firmly. “And anyone who thinks it wasn’t can lick my left one.”
The Warlock cleared his throat nervously, as if he was trying to change the subject. “So, well, maybe this side effect is just temporary. Maybe it’s something you just have to push through and then it’ll be over. Try the steak again, Jessie.”
“Uh-uh, I don’t really—”
“C’mon, try it. Can’t have your pudding if you don’t have any meat,” he wheedled.
Maybe he was right. I cut off a half-inch piece that was mostly crispy fat—I supposed fat wouldn’t do much if it reanimated—and pressed it to my lips and tongue.
Immediately I was hit with the same kick-to-the-head overload of terror and pain. It was utterly horrifying … but also strangely exhilarating, like riding a roller coaster or downing a shot of strong whiskey.
No. No, no, no, I was not getting a thrill from the poor creature’s death. I quickly spat the piece out into my hand and dropped it on top of the napkin. It shuddered weakly.
I stuck my fork in the rest of my steak and flipped it onto the Warlock’s plate. “All yours. I’m not going there again.”
“Well,” Ginger said, “look on the bright side. You could help millions of kids with dead goldfish.”
Something about Ginger’s whimsy grated me to my core. I glared at her. “Very funny. I’m so glad this amuses you.”
Ginger shrank back in her chair and said precisely the wrong thing: “Maybe you’ll get used to it?”
A sudden fury took me. I stood up, whipped off the opera glove, and shoved my fiery hand toward Ginger. “Were you asleep earlier? Did you not see what I’m capable of?”
The others stared at me, shocked into silence.
“Did you see or didn’t you?” I snarled.
“I saw,” Ginger replied in a small, frightened voice, staring at the flames snapping inches from her face.
“So do you think it’d be hilarious if I got used to this horror and got a real taste for death? Do you?”
In my rage, my hand was losing shape, blossoming into a huge rose of fire. I could imagine scorching Ginger’s pretty face right off, burning her down to teeth and charred bone. “I think I could learn to love eating all kinds of things if they really