Free Anita Blake 22.5 - Dancing by Laurell K. Hamilton

wereanimals in that group had their families killed, and Mike had to convince them he hated us, or they would have hurt us. Do you know if that’s true? Does Mike want to see his father? Does he want to see any of us?” She was crying again, and just stopped trying to talk. She hadn’t been married to the man for nearly twenty years, and she was still this upset. Crap.
    I was remembering that Micah’s dad was a sheriff of some flavor, and now his mom was telling me that somehow the dad had found out more about Micah and his animal group than I thought anyone with a badge, besides me, knew. I’d had to kill people to rescue Micah and his group, and I hadn’t had a warrant of execution, so it was murder. I was a little leery that Sheriff Callahan apparently knew more about it all than I’d thought. I knew that Micah hadn’t talked to his family in years, so how had his dad found out, and how much did he know?
    It was my turn to take a deep breath and make myself stop being so damn paranoid and deal with the crying woman on the other end of the phone. “Mrs. Morgan, Mrs. Morgan, how did you know to call here? Who gave you this number?” Maybe if I made her think about something more ordinary she’d calm down.
    She sniffled and then said, in a voice that was hiccupy, as she tried to swallow past the emotion, “We saw Mike in the news as the head of the Coalition.”
    “The Coalition for Better Understanding between humans and shapeshifters,” I said.
    “Yes”—and the word was calmer—“yes, and you were mentioned in several stories as living with him.”
    I wondered if the stories had talked about Nathaniel, the guy who lived with us, or the fact that I was also “dating” Jean-Claude, the Master Vampire of St. Louis? I almost never watched the news, so I didn’t always know what was being said in the media about any of us.
    “Why didn’t you call the Coalition number and ask for Micah directly?”
    “He said really awful things to me last time we spoke, Ms. Blake. I think I’d fall completely apart if he said that again to me with Rush hurt like this. Can you please tell him, and then if Mike wants to see us, to see Rush, before . . . in time . . . I mean . . . Oh, God, I’m usually better than this, but it’s so terrible what’s happening to Rush, so hard to watch.”
    “Happening? What do you mean?”
    “He’s rotting . . . he’s rotting alive and aware and the doctors can’t stop it. They have drugs that can slow it, but nothing slows it down much.”
    “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. You mean that something preternatural attacked Mr. Callahan and now he’s got some disease?”
    “Yes,” she said, almost a breath rather than a word.
    “But they’ve seen it before, this disease?”
    “Yes, they say it’s the first case outside the East Coast, but they’ve learned enough to slow it down. There’s no cure, though. I overheard a nurse call it the zombie disease, but she got in trouble for saying it. The older nurse said, ‘Don’t give it a name that the media will love.’ I heard doctors whispering that it’s just a matter of time before it hits the news.”
    “Why do they call it the zombie disease?” I asked, partly to just give myself time to think.
    “You rot from the outside in, so you’re aware the whole time. Apparently it’s incredibly quick, and they’ve only managed to prolong the life of one other person.” Her breath came out in a shudder.
    “Mrs. Morgan, there are questions I want to ask, but I’m afraid they’ll upset you more.”
    “Ask, just ask,” she said.
    I took in a deep breath, let it out slow, and finally said, “You said prolong. For how long?”
    “Five days.”
    Shit , I thought. Out loud I said, “Give me an address, phone numbers, and I’ll tell Micah.” I started to promise we’d be there, but I couldn’t promise for him. He’d been estranged from his family for about ten years. Just because I’d have gotten on a plane for my