He hesitated, then shrugged. “They go by many names."
Word games were the last thing she felt like playing right now. Her head ached. Her arm ached. In fact, everything ached. She stunk of smoke and sweat and fear, and wanted nothing more than to go home and soak in a nice hot bath.
But she couldn't. Not until she'd talked to her boss. To do that, she had to first make some sense of the night's madness. “So what in hell do you call them?" He looked past her. She resisted the temptation to turn around, sensing if she did, he'd be gone.
"I suppose it's best to call them zombies,” he said after a moment, his eyes dark pools of ebony anger when they met her gaze again. “They answer to the man who attacked you inside the house." She laughed at the absurdity of it, but her amusement quickly fled under his watchful silence. Swallowing, she remembered the wash of fetid breath across her face, the chill of flaccid flesh against her palm. Remembered her own impression that the creatures were dead, and yet not. Zombies. Hells bells. Monica was into something far weirder than any of them had realized. A siren wailed into the silence, and she glanced over her shoulder. A fire engine came around the corner and drove towards them. They must have taken the shortcut through the park to get here so fast. “So how do we explain the presence of zombies to the fire department?"
"We do not,” Michael said, his gaze on the approaching engine. “They will only find charred remains. The others have already left. As should we."
"If the fire's been reported, no doubt someone's reported seeing us out front. I'd better stay here and wait."
"I cannot.” He looked past her again, then stepped back. “We will meet again."
"Wait!” she said, reaching out to stop him, not wanting to lose the comfort of his presence. “I ... I don't even know your name."
He smiled and caught her hand, his fingers gliding across hers. An odd tremble ran up her arm. She wasn't sure whether its cause was the unusual warmth of his touch or simply the caress of his palm against hers.
"You lie, Nikki James. And you will see me again.” He raised her hand, brushing a delicate kiss over her fingers.
She quickly pulled her hand away. He was a stranger, an unknown. She should be responding with wariness, not ... fascination. She'd traveled that path once before, and it had ended with blood on her hands.
His smile faded. “The fire department is almost upon us. You should be safe enough. The man you fear has left the immediate area, anyway."
His words drew her attention back to the park. The touch of evil had left. So had Monica. Yet she knew the danger was far from over. She still had a client who wanted to see his daughter, whatever the cost.
"He may have left the area, but I doubt he's left my life.” Her voice faded. Michael had completely disappeared.
Chapter Three