I run back to the remains of the Cadillac. Fortunately, I had my messenger bag in the front seat with me, not in the trunk. I go back to the unconscious pair, pulling out a pair of rune-etched zip-ties that I bind their wrists with. They’ll act as short-term blockers for their magic. I’m betting they’re weak enough not to be able to break through. I do the same to the teenager out cold on the ground.

I tap the woman’s face. Her eyes snap open, bleary, unfocused. Then she remembers where she is and what just happened. I know that look, so I step to the side and let her vomit out a thick black stream, the remains of the dead germs I had clogging her pipes.

“Feeling better?” I say. She lunges at me. I step easily out of her way and she ends up falling forward onto her face, cutting her forehead.

I pull her back up to her knees, letting her figure out where her magic went. The guy is coming to and does his own puking routine. Once he’s done he starts cursing me. Real curses, like turn-into-a-newt curses. Too bad for him they won’t work.

“Zip it,” I say and snap my fingers. His mouth closes, his lips glued together. I turn back to the woman.

“Now,” I say, “you and I are going to have a little chat.”

Chapter 6

“You gonna kill us like you killed our families?” the woman says, the look of defiance on her face losing some of its effectiveness with the dribble of black drool coming off her chin and her constantly blinking blood out of her eyes.

“Jesus, what is it with you people? I didn’t kill anybody. Why would I?”

“Bullshit,” she says. “You’re building an army of the dead. I saw it.”

“Where? In a dream? For fuck sake. If I’m building an army of the dead, why am I leaving bodies behind? Why not raid the morgue? You have any idea how many people die in this town every day?”

“I—I don’t know. I’m not some sick fuck who plays with corpses.”

“Fine. Whatever. How about this, then? Where would I put it?”

“What?”

“My army of the dead. Where would I put it? I’d need a lot of corpses for an army, right? That’d take a lot of space. So, what, I’m gonna stack the bodies like cordwood inside all the industrial freezers in Los Angeles? And nobody’s gonna notice that?”

She’s starting to question, and she’s not liking the answers she’s getting. “Fuck you,” she says with renewed conviction. She’s too far gone down this road to argue with.