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"I repeat," Lucas said. "Please identify yourself."
The corpse's head snapped back with a sickening crack, then twisted in a full circle, the flesh around its neck splitting, banshee wail ripping through the Everglades.
"Ah, The Exorcist, if I'm not mistaken," Lucas murmured. "One must admire an entity with a full appreciation of contemporary pop culture." He raised his voice to be heard above the wailing. "Your name, please."
"My name is war! My name is pestilence! My name is misery and pain and everlasting torment!"
"Perhaps, but as a form of address, it is rather unwieldy. What do your friends call you?"
The thing stopped its head-spinning and glowered at Lucas. "I have nae friends. I have worshipers. I have devotees. And, thanks to you, today I have one fewer of those."
"Esus," I said.
The corpse turned toward me and sat up straighter. "Aye, thank you." It glared at Lucas. "The witch knows who I am."
"And, apparently, you know who we are," Lucas said.
"I am Esus. I know all. I know you, and I know the witch, and I know the necromancer." He peered over at Jaime. "Caught your show. Nae bad, but it could use a wee oomph."
Esus's voice had lost its orator boom and settled into an odd blend of Scottish and American idiom--the speech of an ancient spirit who liked to keep up with the times.
Jaime eased up beside us. "So you're a..."
"A druid deity," I said. "Esus, god of woodland and water."
"I like the witch," Esus said. "I'll talk to the witch."
"And we'll talk to Everett Weber," Lucas said.
"No, you willnae. I gave you a chance to speak to Everett and what did you do? Nearly got the poor bastard shot by a bunch of Cabal cowboys. But did I interfere? Nae. I stood down and let my acolyte be taken into custody, because I trusted you to get him out of there." The corpse threw up its hands. "But, och, he's out of there now. After he's dead!"
"That's true." I sidled as close to the reanimated corpse as I dared. "But, being all-knowing, you also know that wasn't our fault. We did our best with the information we had."
Esus's sigh blew bits of withered flesh out the corpse's torn neck. "I know. But I still cannae let you talk to Everett. He's a wee bit traumatized right now, being suddenly dead and all."
"Understandable," I said. "But we really do need to speak to him, and now is the best time."
"Nae can do, lassie. Ask all you want, but I'm nae changing my mind. Of course, whatever Everett knows, I know, so you could ask me. It'll cost you, thocht."
"Nuh-uh," Jaime said. "No deals with the devil. I've learned my lesson on that one."
The corpse glowered at her. "I am nae the devil. Or a demon. Or some skittering spook. I am..." Esus crossed his arms. "A god."
"Very well, then," Lucas said. "What would you like?"
"What do you think I'd like? What do all gods like? Sacrifice, of course."
"I'll give up booze for a week," Jaime said.
"Ha-ha. You could use a wee bit of that humor in your show. Far too much of that touchy-feely stuff for me. A good corpse joke now and then would liven things up. As a druid god, I demand true sacrifice. Human sacrifice." He looked at Lucas. "You'd do."
"I'm sure I would. No human sacrifices."
"A goat, then. I'll take a goat."
Jaime looked around. "Would you settle for a gator?"
"No live sacrifices," Lucas said. "Of any kind. In return for clear and comprehensible answers to our questions, I will offer you a half-pint of blood."
