Free Reaper by K. D. Mcentire Page B

kids?”
    “Boring the hell out of us,” Elle said, faking a yawn, “but we're following.”
    “Fine. I'll speed it up for the shortbus crowd. Your girl Wendy is what's known as a ‘natural’ to her family. The only thing is, naturals aren't natural to them, you dig? They don't cotton to her sort.”
    “You think Wendy is in danger,” Lily said, cutting to the heart of the matter.
    Frank shrugged. “Yeah. If they follow tradition, then they're going to put your pal Wendy down like a rabid dog.”
    Piotr jerked and Frank smiled thinly. “Now, normally I couldn't care less about the murder of a ghost-killer, but the Council—hell, every ghost around—got used to things being sort of informal around these parts. We want it to stay that way. We want you to convince the little miss to make the same deal her mother made. That way, everyone's happy.”
    Lily waved a low hand at Piotr under the table, keeping him calm. “Why do you believe she would agree to the same arrangement?”
    “Oh, call it a hunch. Even when the little miss was on her rampage in the autumn, she wasn't too particular about stalking us—just Walkers. The Shades she did outta pure pity, I think.”
    “It is Wendy's way, da ,” Piotr agreed, recalling how Wendy fretted over whether or not to send spirits on, if it really was the right thing to do or not.
    “Exactly. If you stayed hidden and minded your P's and Q's, Wendy didn't hunt you down. And at the end, she started only dealing with ghosts that hunted her down, the ones who actively wanted to move on and sniffed her out to make that happen. That's worlds better than how most of her clan used to deal with us.”
    “ Da ,” Piotr said heavily, pushing back from the table and glaring around the room defiantly. His head was pounding fiercely and it seemed like he'd been in this room, talking with this oily man, for decades. In reality, less than an hour had passed; the restaurant was still stuffed to overflowing with partying dead. “We understand.”
    “Great, Red, you're finally getting with it.” Mimicking Piotr's movement, Frank also pushed away from the table and offered his hand. His eyes were serious and his smile serene. Piotr was unwillingly glad to see the calluses ringing his palm and fingers; Frank might be a cozening man but at least he worked with his hands. Piotr could respect that.
    Frank smiled, catching Piotr eyeing his palm. His expression said that he understood every thought in Piotr's head and was unsurprised by them. “Glad the pair of us could eventually see eye-to-eye. Da, comrade? ”
    What choice did he have? Piotr scowled, but took the proffered hand. “Yes. Friend .”

 
    P arking the car and stepping into the parking garage left Wendy feeling vulnerable and edgy. Though she'd been here only a few hours earlier, the shadows of the garage seemed deeper, darker than before, and the muted shuffle of her boots echoed back strangely from the concrete pillars. It was silly, but Wendy hesitated at the edges of the last line of cars, unsure about turning the blind corner.
    “Don't be an idiot,” she muttered, forcing herself to move past the minivan on the end and step quickly toward the elevators. “No one is there.”
    The elevator arrow lit up as Wendy approached; the elevator was coming from the basement. When the doors dinged open, Wendy stopped cold in her tracks.
    The elevator was filled with Walkers.
    Holy crap, what do I do? ! Wendy knew she could step into the Never, become the Lightbringer, and probably deal with the half dozen or so Walkers fairly easily…if she'd had the benefit of surprise.
    But these Walkers were different, she could tell at a glance. Several of them had their hoods pushed nearly back, exposing repaired flesh crosshatched with strange symbols, weird text. These ghosts were remnants of the White Lady's Walker army, and Wendy knew better than to tangle with so many of those at once.
    Walkers, especially the ones who'd worked for her