Queen of the Dead

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Authors: Ty Drago
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and well liked. Some folks are already seeing the mayor’s office in her future.”
    I had to force my eyes to relax. The image of the Queen’s Mask was eerily captivating. No wonder she’d taken the city by storm.
    Tom continued, “She’s better organized and…in my opinion…a bit smarter than Booth was. She’s already expanded Corpse influence throughout the city. She’s also the one who closed Eastern State to tourists. We don’t know why, but from Will and Helene’s recon last night, it looks like she may be turning it back into a prison. Which brings us to our current situation.”
    He nodded to the Hacker, and the screen changed again, this time showing the wallet ID photo of Hugo Ramirez, special agent for the FBI. Ramirez had a square face, short-cropped black hair, a neatly trimmed goatee, and heavy-lidded brown eyes. He wasn’t smiling.
    â€œLooks like the Corpses have caught themselves a pretty big fish,” Tom explained. “Now, we don’t know why they would’ve taken the risk of snatching a Fed, but they did, and it seems pretty clear that we need to do something about it.”
    Another nod, and this time, the screen showed an overhead view of the prison’s layout.
    â€œAgent Ramirez is in here …somewhere. We need to find him, boost him, and get him back to Haven. Then we need to find out what he did that spooked Cavanaugh into pullin’ this stunt.”
    Chuck Binelli—a veteran member of the Angels—yelled out, “How do we know they haven’t moved him? I mean…the Deaders must figure Will and Helene grabbed the ID.”
    It was Sharyn who replied, “We know he’s still there ’cause we been watching the place ever since Will called it in. Nobody’s come in or out.”
    â€œBut that probably won’t last,” Tom added. “Which is why we need to go in now…today.”
    â€œIn the daytime?” Burt Moscova, another Angel, asked. “Talk about risk!”
    â€œI know,” the Chief admitted. “This one’s gonna be particularly dangerous, but I think it’s worth it. A small team led by Sharyn will hit the place hard, find Agent Ramirez, and hopefully make it to the streets again before the Corpses even know what happened.”
    â€œHopefully?” Chuck muttered.
    â€œYeah,” said Sharyn, grinning. “That’s the bad news. The good news is that we got us a new trick to stick up our sleeves. And you dudes are gonna love it!”
    Tom motioned to the back of the room.
    Steve Moscova stepped forward.
    A small, skinny kid with dark hair and a round face hidden behind thick glasses, Steve was the science geek who dreamed up our weapons and other gadgets. He was also Burt’s older brother, though he’d gotten his Eyes later, a point of some embarrassment for him. In truth, every Seer was unique, though the ability was often shared by all the children in a given family.
    Seeing the Moscova brothers together always made me think of my little sister, Emily. She was only five years old and wouldn’t get the Sight for another six years—if she got it at all.
    The Corpses had to be gone by then.
    It was a quiet vow I’d made to myself.
    Steve carried a bath towel, clean but worn, which he laid out atop the television and unrolled.
    Inside were six syringes.
    Each was identical to the one I’d seen Sharyn use back in the alley, and each was filled with the same clear liquid.
    â€œI call these ‘Ritters,’” Steve announced, smiling, “in honor of the first person to ever kill a Corpse.”
    As the room broke into applause, I felt my face redden. Helene, who was sitting behind me, playfully elbowed my ribs.
    Still grinning, Steve waited until the noise died down. Then he started talking again—now all business. “A single Ritter contains fifteen cubic centimeters of concentrated saltwater. If fully

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