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That meant being around Jesse and not slipping and saying anything about Eli—or how much work I’d had lately.
Chapter Twelve
Right now,the corpse was decayed to nothing but bones and some sinew. It, at least, was dead. Finally. I never understood whatever venom or genetic wrongness caused them to walk after death, but I’d learned how to tell when their spark left.
It was dead.
I was trapped.
One of those was better than the other.
But the Contamination Crew collected at dawn. They weren’t going to drive around at night scooping up supposedly deaddraugr. There wasn’t always a good way to check if they were dead. Even animated, they had no pulse. No one wanted to bend down—throat in their line of sight and scent—and lift them. In the early days, more than one of the Con Crews had died that way.
Protocol mattered, especially in New Orleans.
And my offer to go behead the dead for them went over poorly. I seemed too gleeful or some shit. Or maybe the liability insurance was too much. Either way, they did it their way. I did it mine.
My city wasn’t a place where nights were safe for most people. Some parts of the country were supposedly safe, or so the news stations all swore. To get into those gated areas required being born thereora blood test, seven generations of verifiable lineage, exceptional traits, and a donation that had more zeros in it than I could see clear to hand over even if I had the rest.
And I didn’t have the rest. My blood test would create an international panic. I would spend my life in a facility with a lot of security to keep me inside—or they’d simply kill me on the spot. So, I stayed in New Orleans. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I could leave anyhow. It was an incredible city with music, booze, and a river.
I glanced over my shoulder as the steel door behind me unlocked and opened.
“You’re sure?” Jesse asked as he came up behind me.
“I’m sure.” I pointed at the decaying corpse on the plastic tarps that Jesse had put down before I arrived. Blood and quickly contracting flesh puddled there. “It smells like wet ass.”
Jesse laughed and handed me a plastic baggie with a menthol-soaked cloth. I covered my mouth and nose.
“I don’t know how you stand it.”
“It barely smells, Gen,” he said quietly.
“Uh huh.” I tied the rag over my face. “I’ll hang out here for the night if that’s okay. Con Crew insists.”
He gave me a sympathetic look and motioned to the store. “Load a bag. It’s not much but you won’t take your cut of salesandyou did this—”
“Handling it took five minutes.” I shrugged.
I was several steps away when he said, “You know I’ll accept you no matter what, right?”
“Sure.” I stared at the thing on the floor. I wasn’t much different. Living and dead all at once. I was technically alive, but no one knew what happened to the child of adraugr. The women who got pregnant to them typically aborted or miscarried.
Draugr, obviously, could impregnate women. I existed, so it was an irrefutable fact. I just hadn’t ever heard of any of their offspring living to adulthood. Lucky me.
“My mother was a witch,” I argued, as if that was a valid explanation. “I’m quick. Good at defense. I’m not sure what there is to accept. Lot of witches out there, Jess.”
Jesse said nothing at first, but after a moment, he added, “Witches don’tflow.”
I glanced back “I didn’t—”
“The first time I saw you do it was when I was falling out of that tree. We were . . . what? Ten maybe?” He shook his head. “I should have cracked my head, but suddenly there was a damn sofa cushion. Right there under me. A cushion from my living room in the middle of the backyard. You know there was no other way to explain it.”
“We brought it out earlier. You just forg—”
“No. I didn’t forget.” Jesse looked at me intently. “That wasn’t the only time either. I wasn’t sure until I saw one of them the first time. Thosedraugrthat showed up at the river. Do you remember? I suspected you were different, but I wasn’t sure. That night, I knew. Youflow, Gen.”
I stared at him. For most of my twenty-nine and change years, Jesse was my constant. My rock. My shelter. My best friend.
