Zombie Rising: The Fourth Kelly Chan Novel Read online

  Brand looked back down at me. “That’s Daphne.”

  “That’s dead meat,” I teased.

  “She’s just an old friend, Kel. She hangs with Trixster Thirteen. My favorite DJ. She told me where he’s playing tonight. Illegal rave in an industrial park by I-70.”

  “And you want to go.”

  “Hell yeah.”

  “She’ll be there?”

  “Yeah, and out of her mind on some drug, which she just offered to share. Not my scene. You’re my scene.” Brand leaned down and kissed me hard.

  “All right.” My lips brushed his. “Let’s go check out your boy band crush.” I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him close. “After that, we go to my place for a different kind of crush.”

  Chapter 3

  The rave was in a warehouse just north of I-70 and east of I-25, near an area of town called Elyria Swansea. With a name like that, you might expect elves saddled up on unicorns prancing down the street past crystal castles, but you’d be sorely disappointed. It took us fifteen minutes to drive the four miles there from LoDo, even late at night. I hate the traffic in this town. What possesses people to want to hop onto I-25 at all hours of the day?

  I drove and Brand talked. He gave me a rundown on the different flavors of techno – house, dark, dub, punk, trance. “Each type does something different. You want to chill, listen to trance. You want to dance and be happy, listen to house, like at Ophelia’s. You want to body slam, there’s dark or punk. A really good DJ can mix them, too. Put you into one mood at the beginning of a song and leave you somewhere else entirely by the end.”

  “Like drugs.”

  “Yeah, kinda. But better because you choose when the music’s over and your serotonin receptors aren’t fried to a crisp.” Brand leaned his head out the open window then pulled it back in. “Take a left here. See that building? That’s it.”

  The old warehouse rusted into a crumbling parking lot between a cemetery and a dispensary. How they kept raves a secret was anyone’s guess, but I had a feeling it involved a donation to the locals. The lot was full and the cars fairly vibrated from the music inside. A floodlight illuminated a banner over the door:

  Tonite!

  Monkalicious

  DJ 11th Hour

  DJ Trixster 13

  In the house!

  “Too bad your guy’s not headlining.”

  “What? No, he is. The later you go on, the better.”

  We got in line behind twenty people, paid the ridiculous cover and went in. The atmosphere changed from dry high-desert edge-of-summer cool night to dank and funky jungle humidity. Sweat, vape exhalations and pot smoke all blended into a hazy miasma that hung over the crowd and obscured the stage. It made a great medium for the laser light show though.

  I wasn’t ready to jump right in. The experiment at Ophelia’s still had me packing myself back up. I told Brand that if he wanted to get in the mix to go ahead, but I’d be hanging in the back for a while.

  He stayed and massaged my shoulders. “DJ Eleventh Hour’s still on. She’s not quite my thing. I’ll hang with you for now, but when Trixster Thirteen goes on, all bets are off. Daphne said Trix is trying out something new tonight. That’s why she wanted to share her drugs. To heighten the sensations.”

  “Like we need it.”

  “Exactly.” Brand squeezed my shoulders and all I wanted was to be back with him in my apartment. “Just wait, Kel. You think you felt something at Ophelia’s, this will be ten times more intense.”

  I wasn’t sure I’d like that, or even wanted to handle it, but I wasn’t about to tell Brand.

  We watched the crowd. Brand was way more relaxed than he’d been at dinner. Whatever he said, the music was a drug for him. It quieted whatever demons danced in his head between fights.

  I caught sight of Daphne as she weaved through the crowd with a group of friends. Their bodies brushed against each other and their hands swept across every possible surface they could find, which mostly consisted of other ravers.

  “Did you ever do ecstasy with her?”

  “You don’t need to be jealous.”

  “You don’t need to assume how I feel. Did you?”

  Brand shook his head and grinned. “Just once.”

  “Before or after?” He knew I meant before or after becoming a Sekutar. There was no other big “before and after” for us.

  So I thought.

  “Before.”

  “Why?”

  Brand looked down at me. “Normally, I’d be flattered at your undivided attention, but it’s kinda feeling like an interrogation, Kel.”

  “You like it?”

  “The X or the interrogation?”

  “The ecstasy.”

  Brand frowned and rubbed his mouth and chin briskly. “It didn’t do what…it didn’t work, okay?”

  “What did you want—?”

  “Done, Kel.”

  “Just making conversation.”

  This date sucked. I felt agitated, like I’d caught some of Brand’s restlessness. The music wasn’t helping. I didn’t like the style, whatever it was. It made me want to pummel the wall until I had an opening big enough to escape through.

  And then the music changed.

  The song didn’t end, but DJ Trixster 13 took over from DJ 11th Hour, laid in some new sounds, and the entire mood shifted. A shudder went through the crowd as the beat went from fast and steady to something equally rhythmic but more primitive. Over that played a pre-recorded flute and something with strings.

  Brand didn’t have to work too hard to get me back into the crowd. I wanted to be there, to connect the way I had at Ophelia’s. I opened my senses again and the music took me. The flute poured through my body like rivulets of sun-warmed water, washing away the nastiness of the winter months. I’d lost my powers then, almost lost myself, felt the bite of fear for the first time. I’d pushed all those memories down where I didn’t have to think about them. Buried them under work and practice and triathlon bouts of sex with Brand. Now they floated to the surface and I watched them flow by on the music, right out of my body, leaving me light and free.

  No wonder Brand loved this.

  He danced beside me, eyes half-lidded, mouth opened slightly, colored lights flashing across his face. I turned and reached up, pulled his face down to mine and kissed him hard. The crowd and the music and the whole night flowed around us, two boulders in a rushing stream.

  We left near dawn, stepping over bodies curled up on the warehouse floor in twos and threes, sleeping off the ecstasy and whatever else they took. Do I even have to tell you that the sex we had was the best ever, starting when we hit my truck and ending sometime that afternoon?

  “Wow. When’s the next rave?” I propped myself up in bed next to Brand.

  He laughed and grabbed me, rolled me on top of him. “Mmmm, my pretty lady. Thought you might like Trixster.”

  That was before we found out the bodies we’d stepped over were now deep in mysterious comas in the hospital. One of them was Daphne.

  Chapter 4

  Twenty-eight ravers lay in comas that doctors were calling, “unspecified in origin, possibly related to drug-use,” according to the news.

  Brand paced back and forth in my living room. “I can’t believe this. I should have told Daphne to lay off some fucking drug she didn’t know. But she’s always been reckless that way.”

  Always? I sat on the couch and watched him wear a groove in my floor. “You couldn’t have known. Besides, she’s an adult. You couldn’t have done anything.”

  “I can do something now. I’m going to find the motherfucking drug dealer who sold her that shit and kill him. You with me?”

  I hesitated. “Where’s the profit in that?”

  Brand stopped pacing. “Profit?”

  “We’re highly-trained assassins, Brand. I don’t see anyone paying us to kill the guy. Maybe if someone came forward, one of the victim’s family members—”

  “You are jealous.
”

  “What?”

  “You don’t want to help because you’re jealous of Daphne. Green’s not your color, Kelly. Despite your name.”

  What?

  “I’m not jealous, I’m just thinking about the money I’ll lose if I have to cancel classes to find this guy.”

  Brand crossed his arms and shook his head. “You’re in the black thanks to the Kin.”

  “And I’d like to stay that way.”

  “And you said Jessica’s taking over a class or two.”

  “Fine. You’re right. I’ll help.”

  “Well thank you for that.” Brand went to the door and slipped on his shoes. “Take it out of my pay if it makes you feel better, boss lady.” He reached for the door.

  “Stop it. Don’t leave pissed-off.” I stood up.

  “I owe her, okay?” Brand took his hand off the door knob. “Besides,” he gave me his best cocky smile, “dancing’s all fine and good, especially with you. My god. But there’s nothing like killing someone who deserves it, is there?”

  I smiled back. “You’ve got me there.”

  “I’d like you better over here.”

  I walked to him. He took me in his arms.

  “There’s only you, pretty lady.” He kissed me. “I promise.”

  I kissed him back, sealing a promise between assassins.

  But I still wondered what he owed Daphne. And what he meant by always.

  ***

  “And then he left?” I listened to Amanda munch popcorn over the phone, probably left over from a movie at the Landmark. She liked to take advantage of the free refills and smuggled more than they knew out of the theater. A lot more. Have you ever seen the inside of a witch’s purse?

  “Yup. He said he wanted to ask around while the trail was still warm.”

  “And you didn’t go with him?”

  “I told him I wanted to call you first, see if maybe you could do a little magical tracing.”

  “And rehash you guys’ entire fight with your BFF, did you mention that part?”

  “We’re not fighting now.”

  “Whatever. I totally don’t blame you though, I’d wonder about her, too.” Munch munch.

  “Blame me for what?”

  “For being a little jealous when some woman drapes herself on your boyfriend.”

  “I am not jealous. I can’t get jealous. Wait. Did you just call Brand my boyfriend?”

  Amanda laughed. “That’s what he is. Kelly, do you even know what jealous feels like?”

  “No.”

  “Well, you might want to explore that, because you’re acting like it.”

  “So can you do a trace or not?”

  “Sure.” Amanda’s voice grew teasing. “Want me to look into Daphne, too? Free of charge.”

  “No. Just trace the dealer, thanks.”

  “Okay, but the offer stands.” Amanda ate some more popcorn. “Give me the warehouse address and I’ll take a look.”

  “The place is still swarming with cops and reporters. I saw it on the news.”

  “They won’t see me.”

  Amanda’s magic had gotten a lot stronger since she’d taken a job at DGI. The new CEO, a wizard named Ravenwood, had a talent for drawing up more magic from the earth’s ley lines than your average practitioner, and passed that skill on to his employees via a little magically-enhanced surgery. Much like the way I’d been engineered.

  Ravenwood also happened to be on my to-kill list for trying to de-activate me, as much as he now denied responsibility. Brand promised to help me with that chore when the time came. So who was I to balk at helping him with this?

  I gave Amanda the address. “You sure they won’t see you?”

  “Oh yeah. The place is close to I-25 and I-70, so I can pull up enough magic to make everyone look the other way while I’m doing my thing.”

  “What do the two biggest pain-in-the-ass freeways have to do with pulling up magic?”

  “Look at a map sometime. I-25 runs along a ley line, the biggest this side of the Mississippi, which flows along a ley line as well. They echo each other. You can even see where I-25 looks like the Mississippi-edge of Illinois, starting right up where it crosses I-70, which is also over a ley line. Big pool of magic there. That’s why a lot of wizards and such settled in Denver. We’re right smack dab between the really hot spots of Devils Tower in Wyoming and Roswell in New Mexico. Too hot for most. The Front Range is the Goldilocks zone for magical power is what I’m saying, if you know how to tap into it.”

  “Thanks for the geography lesson.”

  “I live to enlighten.” I listened to Amanda stuff another handful of popcorn into her mouth. “One day I hope to be the magical consultant for Marvel movies. Can’t wait for Doctor Strange to come out this fall. They’ll need me for that franchise.”

  “You just want to hang out with Benedict Cumberbatch.”

  “Like every other woman and gay guy on the planet.”

  “And probably a few straight ones.”

  “Nothing wrong with that. And playing Doctor Strange? Oh, baby, yeah, I’ll show you how to use your magic wand.”

  “How’s Juke gonna feel about that?” Amanda had been dating the Sekutar warrior as long as I’d been with Brand – a record for her. She probably got the popcorn from the last Marvel movie they saw together. He was as big a geek as her.

  “Benedict’s my freebie, and Scarlett Johansson’s his, so it’s cool.”

  “How soon can you check out the warehouse?”

  “I’m headed for the car now. Cecil misses you.”

  “I don’t miss ‘The Wreck of the Edmond Fitzgerald.’”

  “I won’t tell him that, or he might not start up for me.” Cecil is Amanda’s magically-powered car. All magic comes with a price tag, and a never-ending round of Gordon Lightfoot on the radio is Cecil’s.

  “Thanks, Amanda. I owe you one.”

  “Not keeping score, babe. Talk to you later.”

  I turned the TV back on to catch the evening news. The newscasters rehashed what Brand and I already knew, only now they had a hazmat team on the scene. I thought that ought to make Amanda’s job extra fun.

  Then they cut to an interview with a doctor over at Saint Joe’s Hospital. She denied the rumor that the ravers were all developing some sort of rare skin condition.

  “Sometimes the skin can react to foreign substances, but there’s no evidence here of mass contamination or rare disease.”

  All the same, rave-goers were encouraged to report any sort of rash. Then a quick shot back to the hazmat team, a warning about the dangers of illegal drug use and on to the weather – balmy with a slight chance of precipitation for the mountains.

  I looked at my arms, not that I expected to find anything wrong. My healing abilities would have taken care of any issue hours ago.

  But the thought still made me itch.

  I went downstairs to feed my fish and do some exercises while I waited. My phone dinged twice in rapid succession while I was pincushioning a manikin with shuriken. Two texts.

  Got a lead UR not gonna like it from Amanda.

  Shit just got complicated, complete with turd emoji from Brand.

  Chapter 5

  I called Amanda first.

  “What have you got for me?”

  “Well, it definitely wasn’t run-of-the-mill ecstasy floating around the rave. That stuff was laced with magic. The whole warehouse is fuggy with the residuals.”

  “Fuggy?”

  “Yeah, it’s weird. There’s definitely some magic going on here, but it’s…different. Also, I want to go find Juke right now and bang his brains out.”

  Shit. “Go take a shower instead. I think you’ve been contaminated.”

  “With what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Can I bottle it?”

  “You tell me.” I thought of how I’d spent part of the night and most of my day and a delicious shudder ran through me. “But if you figure out how, save
me a bottle.”

  Amanda sighed. “Unfortunately, I have to report this to DGI.”

  “Bummer.”

  “Yeah, extra paperwork, too. Whoopty fucking do.” I heard a tinny rendition of my least favorite song about shipwrecks trying to digitize its way through Amanda’s phone. “So first I’m driving to Juke’s. Get a little fortified for the work ahead.”

  “I’ll leave you to it. I have to call Brand back.” I wasn’t ready to tell Amanda that he might have found something, too. The less I helped DGI, the better.

  “Hang on, Kel. There’s one more thing. This is the part you won’t like.”

  “Because I’m just thrilled about the magic.”

  “Yeah, that too. Look, there’s a good chance the dealer was one of the DJs. Either the woman or the Trixster guy.”

  Oh, good. Brand’s favorite one. My favorite now, too.

  “Well, this got ugly quick.”

  “Uglier. Sorry, Kel.”

  I disconnected and called Brand.

  He picked up immediately. “Hey, Kel.” He sounded pissed.

  “I got your text. Who are we going to kill?”

  “No one.”

  “Why not?”

  “I think there’s been a mistake.”

  “Are you at home? I’ll be right over.” Brand’s apartment was the military edition of your typical bachelor pad – sparse of furniture and heavy on beer in the fridge, weapons decorating the walls, but everything clean and tidy. Not unlike my place.

  “No.”

  “Okay, so where are you now? I’ll meet you.”

  He paused. “The hospital.”

  “Oh.”

  “I haven’t seen her. They won’t let anyone but medical staff in because of a contamination risk. And man, do they look freaked. So, I asked some of Daphne’s friends here – well, the ones who aren’t in a coma at least – where she might have gotten the ecstasy.”

  “And you didn’t like the answer.” I know I didn’t.

  “Turns out she wasn’t doing X. She was vaping something new.”

  That might explain the fuggy magic in the air.

  Brand cleared his throat. “So, can I come over?”