THE
GOOD,
THE
BAD,
AND THE
UNDEAD

KIM
HARRISON

Epigraph

To the man who knows caffeine comes first, chocolate comes second, romance comes third—and when they ought to be reversed.

One

I hitched the canvas strap holding the watering canister higher up on my shoulder and stretched to get the nozzle into the hanging plant. Sunlight streamed in, warm through my blue institutional jumpsuit. Past the narrow plate-glass windows was a small courtyard surrounded by VIP offices. Squinting from the sun, I squeezed the handle of the watering hose, and the barest hint of water hissed through.

There was a burst of clattering computer keys, and I moved to the next plant down. Phone conversation filtered in from the office past the reception desk, accompanied by a belly laugh that sounded like the bark of a dog. Weres. The higher up in the pack they were, the more human looking they managed, but you could always tell when they laughed.

I glanced down the row of hanging plants before the windows to the freestanding fish tank behind the receptionist’s desk. Yup. Cream-colored fins. Black spot on right side. This was the one. Mr. Ray raised koi, showing them in Cincinnati’s annual fish show. Last year’s winner was always displayed in his outer office, but now there were two fish, and the Howlers’ mascot was missing. Mr. Ray was a Den boy, a rival of Cincinnati’s all Inderland baseball team. It didn’t take much to put two and two together and get stolen fish.

“So,” the cheerful woman behind the desk said as she stood to drop a ream of paper into the printer’s hopper. “Mark is on vacation? He didn’t tell me.”

I nodded, not looking at the secretary dressed in her snappy cream-colored business suit as I dragged my watering equipment down another three feet. Mark was taking a short vacation in the stairwell of the building he had been servicing before this one. Knocked out with a short-term sleepy-time potion. “Yes, ma’am,” I added, raising my voice and adding a slight lisp. “He told me what plants to water, though.” I curled my red manicured nails under my palms before she spotted them. They didn’t go with the working plant-girl image. I should have thought of that earlier. “All the ones on this floor, and then the arboretum on the roof.”

The woman smiled to show me her slightly larger teeth. She was a Were, and fairly high up in the office pack by her amount of polish. And Mr. Ray wouldn’t have a dog for a secretary when he could pay a high enough salary for a bitch. A faint scent of musk came from her, not unpleasant. “Did Mark tell you about the service elevator at the back of the building?” she said helpfully. “It’s easier than lugging that cart up all those stairs.”