“Yes, my lady.” I hesitated. “Um . . . just in case, what if there are zombies?”
“You bear a weapon capable of killing the immortal undead, Daisy Johanssen,” Hel said to me in a dry tone. “If the dead rise from their graves, I suggest you use it.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Is there aught else?”
I shook my head. “No, my lady.”
“Have you aught to report on the other matter?” she asked. “The person of interest?”
“The . . . oh. The hell-spawn lawyer. No, I haven’t. There hasn’t been any sign of him, and I’ve had no luck trying to contact him.” It occurred to me that tracking down an elusive lawyer might be a good job for a computer genius like Lee. “Do you, um, want me to make it a priority?”
“No.” It was a definitive “no,” accompanied by a blazing left eye. “The Winter Nights will be upon us soon, Daisy Johanssen,” Hel said grimly. “The unleashing of this spirit has opened a gate between the world of the living and the dead in my demesne. If the dead are not laid to rest by the time your All Hallows Eve has passed, I fear the gate may never be closed.”
“I see.” Okay, so this was a more serious business than I’d realized. I cleared my throat. “I’ll make sure it’s done.”
Hel inclined her head. “That is well.”
With that, I was dismissed. Mikill began escorting me back to the dune buggy. But as we reached the big doors of the sawmill, Hel addressed me once more.
“Daisy Johanssen.”
I turned back. She had her blue eye open, and although her gaze was stern, it wasn’t disappointed. “You did well to gain the sorceress’s oath.”
That was all she said, but it was enough. I took a sharp breath, my eyes stinging a little. “Thank you, my lady. I’m sorry about the rest.”
Hel inclined her head. A mortal in this situation would have said, “Just see that it doesn’t happen again,” or something like that. Hel didn’t need to. She was a goddess. And she didn’t say I’d be stripped of my authority and dismissed as her liaison if I screwed this up a second time. Again, she didn’t need to.
That, I’d figured out myself.
Thirty-six
Although it felt like it should be the wee hours of the night when Mikill dropped me off at the cemetery to retrieve my car, it was only eleven o’clock. I drove in a slow circuit around the winding two-track, the spirit lantern nestled carefully in the front passenger seat. I was prepared to jump out of my skin if a zombie came shambling into the headlights, but everything was quiet.
I should have called the chief from the cemetery—well, I should have called him before I left it the first time, but a summons from Hel takes precedence—but being alone out there under a full moon, knowing there were ghosts and/or zombies in the offing, creeped me out.
So I drove home to my apartment. I could really have used some feline comfort while I made the call, but apparently Mogwai was out hunting.
Chief Bryant was none too pleased to hear from me—I had a feeling he’d already gone to bed or fallen asleep on the couch watching the evening news—and even less pleased when I reported that Letitia Palmer had succeeded in unleashing a duppy and that Hel had informed me that there was a good likelihood that Pemkowet was going to be haunted in the near future, if it didn’t turn into something out of The Walking Dead.
“Goddammit, Daisy!” he said. “I thought you had this under control.”
I winced. “I’m sorry, sir. So did I.”
“You should have let the department pick them up.” He sounded disgruntled. “They’re under mundane authorities. We could have held them on something, at least long enough to confiscate any dangerous materials.”
I wanted to say, “Like an empty pickle jar?” but I didn’t. “We’re talking about a judge and an Oxford-educated lawyer, sir,” I said humbly. “Two women of color, a mother and daughter. I didn’t think it would be good for Pemkowet’s public image if they were picked up on trumped-up charges.”
Well, that was half true. I hadn’t known Letitia would show up, but it was why I’d decided not to involve the department in confronting Emmeline.
Chief Bryant offered a noncommittal grunt that suggested he agreed, but he wasn’t prepared to give me credit at the moment. “All right. I’ll get the word out. So this spirit lantern . . . you’re ready to