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“Perversity,” Iggy offered.
I pulled out my phone and began documenting details. A photo of the entire grisly scene. Another of the cards, seemingly nailed to their hands. Several images of identifying traits, fingerprints in blood, and anything else I could think might be useful to recall. I wasn’t sure, though. I was a necromancer not an investigator.
“What is that?” Iggy asked.
“Phone.” I snapped a picture of him and held it up so he could see his stunned expression. “Calls, internet, camera, music.”
“Should we notify the police? An alienist? Beatrice?” Iggy stayed at my side, but he watched the doorway as if the murderers were still inside—and they very well might be. I heard no sirens yet, no voices at the door, so I figured that we had a few minutes.
I looked to the sweeping staircase. “Come on.”
Upstairs were three bedrooms—one with a sitting room and walk-in closet—as well as an expansive bath, an office, and a smaller bathroom. Nothing looked touched. The only mark that anyone had been up there was a shattered window. The glass crunched underfoot as I went to look out at a towering oak that the intruder or intruders had obviously climbed to reach the window.
“What are we seeking?”
“Answers.” I glanced over my shoulder at Iggy where he stood watching the hall and stairway. He made a fairly good back-up. “Someone came in. Broke this window. Was it the guests in the sitting room? Or were they invited? Why are they dressed for theatre night? And who posed them?”
I walked out of the bedroom and to the office. A heavy writing desk—which must’ve been a chore to tote up those stairs—had correspondence on the top. Bills. A letter to a congresswoman. Nothing damning.
A scream rose up, audible though the broken window.
“Ally!” I tore down the stairs and was outside in a heartbeat or three.
A man stood outside Ally’s sedan, punching her window. He was sizzling in the sunlight—which was unusual under any circumstances. Ally had her gun aimed at him but shooting him meant shooting her window.
My sword was in hand, and his head was severed in as long as it took to notice that her window already had cracks in it. The bubbling dead man thumped to the ground as Iggy came running through the gate and onto the street.
Ally shoved the door open. “Weasel dick,” she yelled as she kicked him in the side.
“Ally . . .”
She looked at me. “He was trying to kill me!”
I sighed. “You could’ve left.”
“I would never leave you, Boss.” Ally looked scandalized. Then she whispered, “I did call Prince Eli.”
“Ally!” I rubbed my face. Eli was going to be pissed off. In my defense I thought I was visiting an empty house or maybe questioning a tenant.
I hit autodial for the number Gary had used. I wasn’t sure if it was at the police station or a cell phone.
He answered on the second ring. “Kid? You alright?”
“Yeah. I, umm, need back-up at”—I looked at the house and rattled off the address—“stopped by to talk to the owners. Door wide open. Six corpses inside—”
“Biters?”
I paused. I wasn’t sure. They had been beheaded. Who could leave so many biters like that?
To Gary, I said, “No clue. The one trying to bust into my car was though. . . I think. Hell, I don’t know. He was sizzling.”
“Sizzling?” Gary echoed. “Con Crew?”
The Contamination Crew collected deaddraugrduring daylight only. There wasn’t always a good way to check if thedraugrwere dead. Even animated, they had no pulse. Daylight tended to make them sleep, so it was safest to gather them in the light and contain them to see if they woke at evening.
“Send a few people. None of them have heads attached.”
“Even the one who sizzled?”
