Free Hellhound (A Deadtown Novel) by Nancy Holzner

want to follow this line of reasoning too far if Malone’s death turns out to be an ordinary Morfran attack.”
    Foster stood, too. “‘Line of reasoning,’” he mocked. “Could you enlighten me as to which part of what you’ve said has anything to do with reason?”
    “What’s your problem, Foster? Don’t you believe in demons?” It’d almost be worth the expense of paying a sorcerer to send a few Harpies to visit the guy and change his mind.
    Foster thrust his ugly face within an inch of mine. “I believe hiring you is a waste of taxpayers’ money.”
    My demon mark flared. I’d show this jerk ugly. I wanted to get Foster in a headlock and ram his face into the cinder-block wall. Over and over, until his skull was cracked, his nose was a mushy pulp, and his teeth crunched under my boots. How satisfying that would—
    “Leave it alone, Foster.” Daniel’s voice brought me back to myself as he stood and stepped between us. “Vicky’s a colleague, whether you like it or not.” He offered me his arm, like a Victorian gentleman going for a stroll, and we strolled right past Foster. I hoped a fly would invade his wide-open mouth as we passed.
    “Ready for the next witness?” Daniel asked as we left the cafeteria.
    “After that exchange, I’d be delighted to converse with another zombie.”
    “Me, too. This guy didn’t see as much, though.” We waited for the heavy metal door to open and return us to the maximum security wing. When we were through, Daniel continued. “He was sitting in the back of the van, behind—”
    “Hey, Detective.” The window in Andy Skibinsky’s door was still open. The square, barred opening in the door framed his face. “Got a minute? There’s something I forgot to tell you.”
    “That window shouldn’t be open,” Foster said, coming up from behind us. He moved to close it.
    “Wait,” Daniel said. Surprisingly, Foster paused. “What is it, Andy?”
    “Could you come back inside? It’s not somethin’ I feel like shouting across the hall.”
    “I’ll get a guard.” Daniel set off toward the guards’ station.
    Andy looked at me and smiled. A zombie’s smile is never a pretty sight, but something in his face unnerved me. “Are you all right?”
    “Great.” His smile broadened until it threatened to split his skin. A tic jittered at one corner of his mouth. He glanced from me to Foster, then back.
    Daniel was returning with the guard, who sorted through his ring of keys. Andy pressed his face against the bars, straining to see them. The tic had moved to his eye. The black tip of his tongue protruded from his lips, and he was panting. His fingers twitched where he gripped the bars.
    “Wait,” I said, putting out an arm to hold the others back. “Something’s not right.”
    Andy snarled. He shook it off, and the smile reappeared. “Come on,” he wheedled. “Just open the door.”
    “Andy, what’s happening?” I said.
    He ignored me, his eyes fixed on the guard. “Open the door.”
    “I’m shuttering that damn window,” Foster said. He reached for the metal plate.
    “Open the door!” The two steel bars snapped off like plastic in the zombie’s fists. His arm shot out into the hallway, his hand grasping. It found Foster’s tie and clutched it.
    Foster screamed—or tried to. The best he could manage was a gurgling sound as strong zombie fingers tightened their grip.
    Inside his cell, Andy roared. The sound was way too intense to come from the throat of one zombie. The scream was wrapped in a sound like the cawing of a hundred angry crows.
    Caw caw caw!
    “Morfran!” I shouted.
    Foster’s heels did a rapid-fire tap dance against the tiles.
    The guard reached for his gun.
    Foster’s eyes bulged. His tongue protruded from his purple face.
    The guard fired, hitting Andy’s elbow. With a howl, he dropped Foster and withdrew his arm.
    For a moment, all was quiet. I opened my senses to the demon plane. Dozens of crows screamed, but I couldn’t