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We found a building a half block down. Then I persuaded Jaime to stand guard inside while I flushed Rose out.
I don't think I'd be exaggerating if I said the entire city block reeked of Rose's rot. Like Jaime, even humans would notice it if they got within fifty feet. Hell, they'd notice if they drove by with the windows rolled up and A/C on. Fortunately, it was past midnight and the streets were empty.
Rose had ducked behind the bin right across the road. I moved behind a bin of my own to look and listen. After a moment, she appeared from a new hiding spot, her face a pale, indistinct oval under her shawl. A slow look around, and she came out.
Rose took a staggering step, then jerked backward. Another stagger, another jerk. Being pulled in two directions? Was Hull trying to summon her too?
That stagger-jerk dance took her to the edge of the sidewalk. Something moved down the alley behind her. I tried picking up the scent on the wind, but Rose's rot overpowered everything. I stared at the spot where I'd seen the movement. Nothing.
My brain cycled through the possibilities. Too big to be rats. Jeremy or Antonio? They wouldn't be skulking in shadows.
Could it be Hull? Or the other zombie?
Rose appeared to be Hull's backup zombie. He'd let her be killed three times. That made sense. Give a nineteenth-century sorcerer two zombie servants, one a male criminal, one a female whore, and which will he let hang out to dry? So, when Jaime summoned Rose, I expected Hull wouldn't be around to notice--he'd keep as far from her rotting corpse as he could.
But what if I'd guessed wrong?
If Hull or the bowler-hatted man was down that alley, then I might be able to skip a step in my "get Rose to take me to Hull" plan, but I wasn't ready for it. Not nearly.
I backed up into the building.
"Jaime?" I whispered. "Get upstairs. Watch that alley across the road, where Rose was. If anyone comes out of it--or anyplace else--get down here. I'm bringing Rose inside."
I looked around. There was a rusted filing cabinet against the wall that was big enough to hide me. I'd just have to remember that if I moved forward, it would be my stomach, not my feet, that could give me away.
I hurried behind the cabinet. After a moment, I picked up the clomp of footsteps, heavy and oddly spaced.
A shadow crossed the door. I pulled back, then tried to peek through the crack between the cabinet and the wall, catching only a sliver of the room.
The streetlight coming through the open front door cast a yellowish glow on the floor. A shadow crossed it, jerking and rocking, as if Rose was still following the steps of her strange dance, pulled between opposing forces.
A low gurgling filled the room, then a muttering, words unintelligible. Fabric rustled as Rose started forward again. A moment later, the hem of a long skirt appeared under an almost-equally long overcoat.
Rose staggered, as if losing the war against balance. She swung her other foot up, boot clomping down. So that was the problem. Balance, not the opposing pull of supernatural powers. Something must have been wrong with her leg--
As her far foot lifted for another step, I stared. Beneath the hem of the long gown, there wasn't a boot, just something long and white, like a cane. Her lower leg bone, no foot attached, strings of dirty flesh hanging off it. The bone came down to meet the floor. A second's pause as she struggled to get her balance, rocking forward, then back as she launched her good foot up and over, then rested her weight on it.
Dear God, how much willpower did it take to walk like that? But she had to. She'd been summoned, and had to obey.
When her face turned my way, I nearly gasped, biting my lip at the last second to stifle the sound. Her nose was a blackened cavity above another hole that had been her mouth, her teeth bared in a permanent skull-like grimace, her lips gone. Bloodied bone shone through her chin and cheekbones.
As I tried not to whimper, I told myself I was being ridiculous. I'd seen worse. Bodies torn apart by mutts. But they were dead! my brain screamed. Not walking around, living, breathing, conscious--
I pulled back before she saw me, but I moved too fast, and my elbow clanged against the file cabinet. The sound rang out as loud as a gong.
Rose let out something between a roar and a squeal, and started thumping in my direction. I wheeled out from behind the cabinet, and she flew at me, hands up, hooked into claws--bone claws, most of the flesh gone, half of her fingers missing. I veered out of her path, but she kept coming, lurching and lunging, faster than I would have thought possible.
As I backpedaled, one of those bony claws sheered my way. I acted on instinct, hitting the bottom of her arm with an uppercut. Her arm flew up with the blow, then fell limply to her side. Yet she kept coming, her good arm clawing at me.
As I dodged her blows, her limp arm seemed to be slipping...sliding from the sleeve.
Had I knocked her arm off? With a simple blow? Then how the hell was I going to subdue her? If I threw her down, I was liable to rip her in half.
She kept coming, eyes rolling with rage.
"Rose!" I yelled.
She didn't stop coming at me, stumping forward, good arm clawing the air. When I called again, her gaze met mine, telling me she was still capable of hearing and processing words.
