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Authors: Nancy Holzner
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expense account,” Daniel said.
We sat down at a small table with two chairs. Within a minute, Foster had dragged over a chair from another table. Okay, I thought. There was no shaking the guy. I would’ve liked to bounce my thoughts off Daniel alone, but it wasn’t like I was saying anything off the record. Still, I didn’t have to welcome Foster to the conversation. I angled my chair so my back was toward him.
“It’s like I told Andy,” I said to Daniel. I swallowed some coffee. Hot. Strong. Bitter. Exactly what I needed. “What happened to Malone
almost
sounds like a Morfran attack.”
“But that ‘almost’ bothers you.”
I nodded. “Nothing in Andy’s description indicates the first stage of a Morfran attack. And that stage is crucial; it’s how the Morfran gets inside its victim to feed.”
Daniel waited while I gathered my thoughts.
“Andy was right there. He was watching Malone. There’s no way Malone could have experienced that stage without Andy noticing.” I sipped my coffee. “I’ve been on the receiving end of stage one, Daniel. It hurts like hell.” That attack had been cut short by Mab, who’d saved my life by drawing the Morfran away from me. “All I could think about was protecting myself from whatever was tearing at my flesh.”
Foster heaved a sigh, as though he wished the Morfran had won that battle. I scooted my chair closer to Daniel.
“I know what you mean,” Daniel said. “I saw it happen at the concert. The PDH I observed was frantic, twisting and ducking and trying to bat the crows away.”
“Exactly.” I suppressed a shudder at the memory of all that pain. “From the description we just heard, it sounds like Malone was attacked from the inside.”
“Can that happen?”
“The Morfran can possess humans.” Daniel’s lips compressed into a grim line, and I knew we were thinking the same thing. A human police officer we’d both known, not exactly a friend but a good cop, had been possessed by the Morfran. And if the Morfran comprises the soul of a demon, you can imagine what it drives a person to do. The cop had become a serial killer, tormented by the Morfran until he ended his own life.
“You think it can possess PDHs, too?” Daniel asked.
“That’s the trouble—I don’t see why it would. Zombies are nothing but food to the Morfran. And since the Morfran is always ravenous, it doesn’t make sense that the spirit would dwell inside a zombie without consuming it. Unless . . .”
Daniel leaned forward. “What?”
“Unless some kind of sorcery is involved.”
Behind me, Foster spewed coffee. Some landed on the back of my neck. “First demons, now sorcerers? Why are we wasting money on this freak?”
I ignored him as I gathered my thoughts. Sorcerers command demons. Or try to. It’s a dangerous business, and sooner or later most sorcerers get their heads handed to them—literally—by the demons they attempt to force into servitude. One sloppy gesture, one incantatory syllable uttered off-pitch, and the demon seizes the opportunity to attack its so-called master. As the drops of coffee cooled on my neck, I kinda wished Foster would try his hand at sorcery. He wouldn’t last one summoning.
“A highly skilled sorcerer
might
be able to bind the Morfran to a zombie,” I said to Daniel. “Instead of feeding directly on the zombie, the Morfran would feed on the acts of destruction it drove its host to commit.”
“Turning the zombie into a killing machine.”
Foster whooped with laughter. Instead, he should’ve been cowering under the table. Zombies are incredibly strong and nearly indestructible. A zombie driven by the Morfran would make an unstoppable weapon.
“If the binding is imperfect,” I said, “eventually the Morfran would turn on its host. That may be what happened last night.” I drained the last mouthful of coffee from my cup and stood up. “Let’s talk to the next witness. Maybe he saw something Andy didn’t. I don’t
We sat down at a small table with two chairs. Within a minute, Foster had dragged over a chair from another table. Okay, I thought. There was no shaking the guy. I would’ve liked to bounce my thoughts off Daniel alone, but it wasn’t like I was saying anything off the record. Still, I didn’t have to welcome Foster to the conversation. I angled my chair so my back was toward him.
“It’s like I told Andy,” I said to Daniel. I swallowed some coffee. Hot. Strong. Bitter. Exactly what I needed. “What happened to Malone
almost
sounds like a Morfran attack.”
“But that ‘almost’ bothers you.”
I nodded. “Nothing in Andy’s description indicates the first stage of a Morfran attack. And that stage is crucial; it’s how the Morfran gets inside its victim to feed.”
Daniel waited while I gathered my thoughts.
“Andy was right there. He was watching Malone. There’s no way Malone could have experienced that stage without Andy noticing.” I sipped my coffee. “I’ve been on the receiving end of stage one, Daniel. It hurts like hell.” That attack had been cut short by Mab, who’d saved my life by drawing the Morfran away from me. “All I could think about was protecting myself from whatever was tearing at my flesh.”
Foster heaved a sigh, as though he wished the Morfran had won that battle. I scooted my chair closer to Daniel.
“I know what you mean,” Daniel said. “I saw it happen at the concert. The PDH I observed was frantic, twisting and ducking and trying to bat the crows away.”
“Exactly.” I suppressed a shudder at the memory of all that pain. “From the description we just heard, it sounds like Malone was attacked from the inside.”
“Can that happen?”
“The Morfran can possess humans.” Daniel’s lips compressed into a grim line, and I knew we were thinking the same thing. A human police officer we’d both known, not exactly a friend but a good cop, had been possessed by the Morfran. And if the Morfran comprises the soul of a demon, you can imagine what it drives a person to do. The cop had become a serial killer, tormented by the Morfran until he ended his own life.
“You think it can possess PDHs, too?” Daniel asked.
“That’s the trouble—I don’t see why it would. Zombies are nothing but food to the Morfran. And since the Morfran is always ravenous, it doesn’t make sense that the spirit would dwell inside a zombie without consuming it. Unless . . .”
Daniel leaned forward. “What?”
“Unless some kind of sorcery is involved.”
Behind me, Foster spewed coffee. Some landed on the back of my neck. “First demons, now sorcerers? Why are we wasting money on this freak?”
I ignored him as I gathered my thoughts. Sorcerers command demons. Or try to. It’s a dangerous business, and sooner or later most sorcerers get their heads handed to them—literally—by the demons they attempt to force into servitude. One sloppy gesture, one incantatory syllable uttered off-pitch, and the demon seizes the opportunity to attack its so-called master. As the drops of coffee cooled on my neck, I kinda wished Foster would try his hand at sorcery. He wouldn’t last one summoning.
“A highly skilled sorcerer
might
be able to bind the Morfran to a zombie,” I said to Daniel. “Instead of feeding directly on the zombie, the Morfran would feed on the acts of destruction it drove its host to commit.”
“Turning the zombie into a killing machine.”
Foster whooped with laughter. Instead, he should’ve been cowering under the table. Zombies are incredibly strong and nearly indestructible. A zombie driven by the Morfran would make an unstoppable weapon.
“If the binding is imperfect,” I said, “eventually the Morfran would turn on its host. That may be what happened last night.” I drained the last mouthful of coffee from my cup and stood up. “Let’s talk to the next witness. Maybe he saw something Andy didn’t. I don’t
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