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I blinked stupidly at him. That was his question? Not why was I stealing brains? “I’ve been on a special medication,” I managed to say. “For dyslexia. It messes with my impulse control, but I’m changing meds now.”
He blew out a breath. “Thank God. I thought it might be something less, ah, manageable.”
What the—? I had no idea what Allen’s deal was, but he had yet to fire me or press charges. “How long have you known about the brains?”
“Since the gash on your hand healed without a trace.”
My breath caught even as I shoved my hand behind my back out of pure reflex. I’d cut my hand on a scalpel last year, and Allen had stitched it to save me a trip to the emergency room. He’d almost been nice about it, too. “I have this really amazing miracle scar cream,” I said. “Works like a charm. What does that have to do with anything?”
“Angel, I know.” His voice stayed calm, but his eyes were wary. “I started checking the organ bags after that. You’re a goule-gris.”
I didn’t know much French, but I understood grey ghoul. Blood drained from my head, and I swayed. Allen shot to his feet and shoved a chair under my butt as I sank. A weird numbness set in, as if I was along for the ride in some other person’s screwed up life. Allen had known for all this time. “I don’t understand.” I looked up at him, baffled. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You were doing what you had to do, and no one was getting hurt.” He sat on the edge of the desk. “I figured you had good reasons to want your privacy. But when you started behaving erratically, I knew it was only a matter of time before you got caught and by someone other than me. That would hurt the Coroner’s Office nearly as much as it would you, and I can’t have that.”
I felt as if I’d been dropped into a weird dream-world. “How do you know about z—” I swallowed. “—about goule-gris?”
“A few years ago I went on a medical aid rotation to the Central African Republic.” He grimaced. “We provided emergency services for refugees and victims of armed conflict. There was a local woman, a nurse who I worked closely with. Sorella.” His voice softened on her name. “I found out she was goule-gris when I accidentally poisoned myself with a wound salve I’d seen her use for a cut on her leg.”
A strange calm settled over me. Allen knew what I was, and he wasn’t going to have me arrested. “It was toxic to you, but not to her.” I cocked my head, intrigued. “Did her wounds heal without the salve?”
He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Not as well. I don’t know how it worked, but as far as I can tell it helped conserve, uh, brains.”
I snapped out of my slouch. “What was in it?” I asked. Demanded.
A corner of Allen’s mouth twisted. “That’s the same question John asked when I told him this story.”
“Who the hell is John?” But the answer hit me an instant later. My jaw dropped. “Wait. John Kang?”
Allen nodded. “Once you’ve seen goule-gris color, you don’t forget it. Less than a year after Africa, John came in to pick up a body, and he had that grey cast. It went from there. He told me—repeatedly—that outing your kind is frowned upon, which is part of why I kept quiet when I found out about you.”
My mind spun as I worked to readjust to this bizarre new world. “Did you tell Kang what was in the salve?”
“The ingredients that I knew of, yes. But I have no idea about the proportions or techniques.” He tipped his head back in thought. “Okra seed, moringa leaf, stinkblaar.” His forehead creased. “Boomslang venom—I won’t forget that one anytime soon—myrrh oil. There might’ve been more, but I’m not certain.”
Ideas formed and fell apart only to sprout again. “Did Kang figure anything out with it?”
“No clue. He was a private kind of guy. We didn’t talk about the goule-gris aspect much after the first few days.”
Had Kang shared the word zombie with Allen? Too weird. “I know this is going to sound kind of lame, but thanks. For keeping my secret.”
Allen didn’t quite smile, but his face lost some of its tension. “I kept my eye on you once I realized. But you make it to work on time, do a good job, and haven’t fucked up anything that I know of.” He shrugged. “As long as you weren’t hurting a
nyone, there was no need for me to butt into your life.”
I stared at him. “I thought you hated me.”
“There was no love lost for the first few months, that’s for sure,” he said, then made a sour face. “But you have no idea how many times I’ve been burned by losers who slid into a morgue tech job because of a relative with influence.”
I winced. I’d been one of those losers when I started out. “Then why do you still jerk my schedule around all over the place and treat me like crap?”
He surprised me with a bark of laughter. “I treat everyone like crap. That’s what makes me so lovable. As for your schedule, you never complained about it. I was happy to have an employee who was flexible.”
Now that I thought about it, he’d never given me a lick of trouble about arranging my schedule around classes. I’d spent all this time being butthurt because Allen wasn’t nice to me. “What now?”
Allen sobered and met my eyes. “No more taking all the brains. Leave some every few bags. No more carelessness. Don’t do your collecting when people are here. There’s a limit to how far I can cover your ass. If you get into a bind, tell me, and I’ll do what I can without drawing attention. And for God’s sake no more pig brains. Anyone with half an eye can tell they’re not human.”
I nodded meekly. “Does this mean I still have a job?”
