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I shook my head, moving into the circle of hisarms. I hugged him. "If this is a new power level, then one night won't make a difference." I held him, breathing in the warm solidity of him.
"There's always a learning curve to new abilities, Anita," he whispered into my hair. "Even if that ability is only a stronger version of something else. Do we really want the learning curve to be on the FBI's dime?"
He had a point, a good one, but… "I'll be able to raise this zombie, Micah."
"But what else will you raise?" he asked.
I drew back enough to see his face. "How did you understand that?"
"Isn't that what you're afraid of? Not that you can't raise the dead, but that you'll raise more than you were paid for?"
I nodded. "Yeah." I shivered and drew away so I could rub my arms. "That's exactly it."
"The protective circle is usually to keep things out," he said. "Right?"
I nodded again.
"Tonight, I think maybe it will be to keep you in."
"So I don't spread over more of the graves," I said.
"Yes," he said.
"They should have chickens waiting for me to slaughter. I know Larry would have told them to bring the livestock."
Fox yelled, "Marshal, Callahan, are you coming?"
"We'll be there in a minute," Micah called. He leaned into me, hands on my arms. "Do you really think chicken blood will keep this contained?"
"Not their blood, but their lives, yes," I said.
"I'm not sure adding fresh death to your magic tonight is a good idea."
"What choice do I have, Micah? I can make a small cut in my arm or hand and use the blood, but I'm not sure what my blood touching the graveyard will do tonight. So much power tonight, it's intoxicating."
"Then use my blood," he said.
I looked at him. "You've never shared blood for a zombie raising."
"No, but I let Jean-Claude take blood from me. How much different can it be?"
There were many answers to that, but I settled for "A lot different. I can't cloud your mind to make it not hurt."
"It's a little cut, Anita. I'm okay with it."
I sighed and hugged him again. A lot of men will date you, and some will sleep with you, and a few are content to play second fiddle to your job, but how many will literally open a vein for you? Not many.
I gave him a quick kiss. "Let's go raise Mr. Rose from the dead."
He picked up the bag with all the zombie-raising paraphernalia in it. He'd carry it. After all, he was the assistant. He needed to look useful. We finished the walk to the grave hand in hand.
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