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Authors: Kristi Charish
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would, whether I was willing to pay or not. Zombies are worse than a secret society that way.
I checked my watch: 11:45. I glanced around the bar on the off chance I’d missed Mork toting his metal cooler. Nope. It was usual to wait a few minutes for him…just not this long. I also didn’t like holding this much cash down here. I think Mork knew that—probably why he was late.
“Is Mork back there?” I asked Lee as she came back around the bar. Cameron had finished his brains, so I slid his empty glass towards her.
“Hold on a sec, I’m not drinking any more of…” He trailed off when both Lee and I shook our heads at him.
“No, I haven’t seen Mork,” Lee said, taking a fresh glass and filling it with a mixture that matched the blue umbrella shedecorated it with before passing it back to Cameron. “And with luck, I won’t,” she said, retreating to the cooler.
I snorted. Mork, Lee’s business partner, was many things. Zombie was not one of them. I wondered if that’s what led to all the strife between them. On the other hand, it could just be Mork: he had that effect on people.
Rumour had it that five years back Lee had hit a rough spot when the morgue technician she’d been using skipped town and her brain supply dried up. Enter Mork, stage right, with a bottomless supply of high-quality, fresh brains. A tenuous partnership was born out of desperation.
Normally I’d agree wholeheartedly with Lee’s aversion to Mork. But I needed supplies for Cameron.
I finished my second whisky sour. Two options faced me: stay here and make small talk with Cameron until Mork arrived, or try once more to make nice with Nate and get him to agree to the university gig tomorrow night.
I slid myself up off the bar stool. Time to see if the late great Nathan Cade had swallowed his pride and reached something resembling a reasonable frame of mind.
“Lee, watch Cameron for me, will you?” I said, and didn’t wait for her nod. “I’ll be back in a sec,” I said to Cameron. “Stay put. If you forget something, ask Lee. And I want that second glass gone by the time I get back.”
He swore but pulled the umbrella out and took a sip.
The washrooms were outside the back door, off a small courtyard that occupied the space between the natural rock wall of the cavern that formed the city and the back of Lee’s bar. It was a throwback to outhouse days. Lee and Mork kept generous-sized mirrors in the bathrooms, pre-set for summoning. Just another service for their clientele.
“Kincaid?” Lee called, raising her voice just enough that I could hear her. Door handle in hand, I glanced back over my shoulder. She was leaning around the cooler door.
“Tell Mr. Cade I’m calling in his bar tab tonight,” she said, and smiled, slow and wide, like a very dangerous cat.
I shook my head. It wasn’t like I hadn’t warned him.
The electric heaters—Mork’s doing—buffeted me with warm air that smelled of stale peat moss as I closed the door behind me. They were supposed to beat back some of the dampness that permeated all of Seattle and was especially potent down here. The jury was out as to whether they worked, but the smell of decaying moss drove home a crucial detail practitioners who visited the underground for too long tended to forget: the city was never meant to suit the living. It was a place for the dead to rot.
CHAPTER 5
THE LATE GREAT NATHAN CADE
Lee’s improvements had extended into the courtyard.
Christmas lights, tiny white ones, clung to everything, including the two gas lamps hanging over my head. Strings of them had been woven into a haphazard canopy that stretched all the way to the three outhouse-style washrooms along the rock wall. It was like a night garden filled with fireflies, minus the plants, which wouldn’t grow down here anyway.
I shook my head. Cheap Christmas lights were not going to scare off bad luck, only the odd drunk zombie or ghoul catching a nap behind the trash. Though I had
I checked my watch: 11:45. I glanced around the bar on the off chance I’d missed Mork toting his metal cooler. Nope. It was usual to wait a few minutes for him…just not this long. I also didn’t like holding this much cash down here. I think Mork knew that—probably why he was late.
“Is Mork back there?” I asked Lee as she came back around the bar. Cameron had finished his brains, so I slid his empty glass towards her.
“Hold on a sec, I’m not drinking any more of…” He trailed off when both Lee and I shook our heads at him.
“No, I haven’t seen Mork,” Lee said, taking a fresh glass and filling it with a mixture that matched the blue umbrella shedecorated it with before passing it back to Cameron. “And with luck, I won’t,” she said, retreating to the cooler.
I snorted. Mork, Lee’s business partner, was many things. Zombie was not one of them. I wondered if that’s what led to all the strife between them. On the other hand, it could just be Mork: he had that effect on people.
Rumour had it that five years back Lee had hit a rough spot when the morgue technician she’d been using skipped town and her brain supply dried up. Enter Mork, stage right, with a bottomless supply of high-quality, fresh brains. A tenuous partnership was born out of desperation.
Normally I’d agree wholeheartedly with Lee’s aversion to Mork. But I needed supplies for Cameron.
I finished my second whisky sour. Two options faced me: stay here and make small talk with Cameron until Mork arrived, or try once more to make nice with Nate and get him to agree to the university gig tomorrow night.
I slid myself up off the bar stool. Time to see if the late great Nathan Cade had swallowed his pride and reached something resembling a reasonable frame of mind.
“Lee, watch Cameron for me, will you?” I said, and didn’t wait for her nod. “I’ll be back in a sec,” I said to Cameron. “Stay put. If you forget something, ask Lee. And I want that second glass gone by the time I get back.”
He swore but pulled the umbrella out and took a sip.
The washrooms were outside the back door, off a small courtyard that occupied the space between the natural rock wall of the cavern that formed the city and the back of Lee’s bar. It was a throwback to outhouse days. Lee and Mork kept generous-sized mirrors in the bathrooms, pre-set for summoning. Just another service for their clientele.
“Kincaid?” Lee called, raising her voice just enough that I could hear her. Door handle in hand, I glanced back over my shoulder. She was leaning around the cooler door.
“Tell Mr. Cade I’m calling in his bar tab tonight,” she said, and smiled, slow and wide, like a very dangerous cat.
I shook my head. It wasn’t like I hadn’t warned him.
The electric heaters—Mork’s doing—buffeted me with warm air that smelled of stale peat moss as I closed the door behind me. They were supposed to beat back some of the dampness that permeated all of Seattle and was especially potent down here. The jury was out as to whether they worked, but the smell of decaying moss drove home a crucial detail practitioners who visited the underground for too long tended to forget: the city was never meant to suit the living. It was a place for the dead to rot.
CHAPTER 5
THE LATE GREAT NATHAN CADE
Lee’s improvements had extended into the courtyard.
Christmas lights, tiny white ones, clung to everything, including the two gas lamps hanging over my head. Strings of them had been woven into a haphazard canopy that stretched all the way to the three outhouse-style washrooms along the rock wall. It was like a night garden filled with fireflies, minus the plants, which wouldn’t grow down here anyway.
I shook my head. Cheap Christmas lights were not going to scare off bad luck, only the odd drunk zombie or ghoul catching a nap behind the trash. Though I had
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