“Got it.”

While Jeremy hustled Hull out of the way, Clay and I headed toward Anita. A mob of newcomers, jostling to get close to the crime, cut between us and her. When one knocked hard against my stomach, Clay shouldered him back with a glare.

“Hey-” the young man said, letting out a stream of alcohol fumes strong enough to knock any Breathalyzer well over the limit.

“Hey, yourself,” Clay growled. “Watch who you’re mowing down.”

He gestured at my stomach. The young man scowled down at it.

“Yeah? Well, if you’re really worried about your baby, pal, you’d get your wife out of the city. Haven’t you heard the bulletins? Pregnant women are advised to leave the city-”

“Thanks,” I said, taking Clay’s arm and propelling him forward. “We didn’t hear that.”

By the time we made it through the crowd, Anita was nowhere to be seen. Nick and Antonio met us on the other side, having seen the confrontation and hurried to help. We gave them a description of Anita and set out, weaving through the crowd. I was circling a police cruiser when I almost bumped into another familiar body-Jeremy.

“We lost her,” I said.

“And I lost Hull,” he murmured.

“Oh, shit.”

Panicked searching ensued, and Jeremy was about to take Antonio and head over to Anita’s bookstore when Hull came flying along the sidewalk, face white.

“Oh, thank God,” he said, panting as he drew up beside us. “They’re here. The zombies. I smelled that awful stench, and I turned to tell Mr. Danvers, but he was gone and-”

“Where are they?” Jeremy asked.

Hull gestured wildly, taking in half the surrounding block.

“Did you see them?”

“No, I only smelled them. But they were close. I think they were coming for me. I ran into a crowd and that seemed to scare them off.”

Hull led us to where he’d smelled the zombies. They had indeed been there-both of them-along a side road. Jeremy and Jaime took Hull aside then, luring him with the promise of a drink to calm his nerves. Before they left, though, Jeremy changed his mind about our search-we’d do it as humans.

We found the zombie trails easily enough. As for Jack, it was impossible to lift a decent suspect trail. I had no idea what he smelled like, and at least a dozen other trails in that alley were recent enough to be his. So I did my best to commit all of them to memory. When I found more of the zombies’ trails, I could match up my memories with any human scents following theirs.

Yet after three streets, it became obvious this wasn’t as easy as it sounded. No single human trail intertwined with that of the zombies for more than half a block. We could only guess that the stench was too much for Jack, and he’d taken another route. That left us following the zombies, and we did that for an hour, but kept losing the trail as it crossed roads.

When we checked in with Jeremy, he decided that was enough. What he’d hoped for was a scent signature for the killer, and if we weren’t going to get that, we’d be better off getting some sleep.

Trust

JEREMY DECIDED TO TAKE HULL BACK TO THE HOTEL WITH us. Hull obviously wanted that-the poor guy was convinced Jack the Ripper and killer zombies were on his tail. We were more worried about Anita Barrington coming after him and trying to “trade” him to Shanahan, but either way, it seemed wise to keep him close.

While some of us wanted to discuss the night’s events before turning in, Jeremy refused, feigning exhaustion, with Antonio backing him up, as if they hoped a few yawns would convince us we were tired too. I certainly wasn’t. That’s the problem with sleeping until early afternoon: twelve hours later, I was still raring to go.

So after we tossed our suitcases into the corner of the room, Clay and I left as Nick made a phone call. We headed into the hall, looking for a diversion…and hoping Jeremy and Antonio might reappear after they were certain Hull had retired.

No such luck. Even after pacing past their door three times, talking loudly, they didn’t come out. As we wandered along the hotel corridor, Clay spotted a communal balcony. The sign on the door warned that it was locked after eleven. But when Clay tried the handle, it opened…though I’m sure his extrahard twist helped.

The balcony was about the size of a hotel room, with a brick railing overlooking the streetscape. There were two lounge chairs-one nearly hidden by the wall, the other on the far side, as if the people who’d used them last had been strangers, and had intended to stay that way.

Clay stretched out in the shadow-shrouded lounger. I walked to the railing and looked down at the city.

“Do you think we did it?” I asked.

“Did what?”

“Let him out. With Jaime’s séance.”

“And none of us noticed him strolling out of that portal?”

I nodded. “You’re right.”

“Timing’s off too. Even if he jumped out the moment Jaime started doing her thing, there’s no way he got over to that corner, met up with his zombies, picked out a girl and killed her, all before we finished. Your friend said the 911 call came in almost an hour before she got the news-while we were still in Cabbagetown.”

The door slid open behind me. I turned, expecting to see Nick. A slight figure hovered in the doorway. Hull. I nodded, but didn’t extend an invitation. He still walked in-right past Clay without seeing him there in the dark-and took a spot beside me at the railing.

“Nice night,” Hull said, gazing out at the city.

I nodded.

“It’s all very…” He looked around. “Different. It’s hard to believe how much can change in a hundred years.” He gestured at the side of the hotel. “Hardly a common roadside inn.”

A stab of guilt raced through me. Any other time, I’d have been fascinated by Hull ’s situation, but here I was unable to muster more than a twinge of empathy.

Granted, empathy and I are not close friends, but I can usually put myself in someone else’s shoes, imagine his situation and feel the appropriate response. Yet, with Hull, there was nothing. Not even curiosity. Maybe I had a lot on my mind, but I should make the effort.

“This must be…” I began, then shook my head. “I can’t imagine what it’s like. Did you have a family? Wife, kids?”

He shook his head. “My work took up much of my time, I’m afraid.”

I managed a few more questions, but his answers were simple, none opening the gate to anything approaching spirited conversation.

I glanced over at Clay, but it looked as if he’d fallen asleep. No rescue there. Hull just watched me, as if waiting for the next question. I struggled to think of one, but under that blankly polite gaze, any spark of interest I could manage sputtered out. It was like being cornered by the most boring person at the party.

“This must be very difficult for you as well,” Hull said after a moment. “In your…condition.” He sidestepped closer. “I don’t mean to be rude but, all things considered, I’m surprised your husband is putting you through this, dragging you here and there, trying to catch these monsters-”

“Her husband doesn’t drag her anywhere,” Clay drawled, appearing at my shoulder. “She goes where she pleases; he just tries to keep up.”

Hull jumped at the sight of Clay. “My apologies. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“That’s because I didn’t.”

Clay nodded at the lounge chair.

“Oh, oh, yes, of course. I should have known. You’re quite…attentive.”

“You could say that,” I murmured.

Hull searched for something to say, but under Clay’s steady stare, he wilted. With a murmured good night, he hurried out the door, closing it behind him.

“Scared off another one,” I said. “No wonder I don’t have any friends.”

“You have me,” Clay said, leaning beside me. “What more do you need?”