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Bloody Bones :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 2 из 272"
They were powerful, and sad.
There was nothing but the photos. No explanation. Bert had said to come to his office after I'd looked at them. He'd explain everything. Yeah, I believed that. The Easter Bunny is a friend of mine, too.
I gathered the pictures up, slipped them into the envelope, picked my coffee mug up in the other hand, and went for the door.
There was no one at the desk. Craig had gone home. Mary, our daytime secretary, didn't get in until eight. There was a two-hour space of time when the office was unmanned. That Bert had called me into the office when we were the only ones there bothered me a lot. Why the secrecy?
Bert's office door was open. He sat behind his desk, drinking coffee, shuffling some papers around. He glanced up, smiled, and motioned me closer. The smile bothered me. Bert was never pleasant unless he wanted something.
His thousand-dollar suit framed a white-on-white shirt and tie. His grey eyes sparkled with good cheer. His eyes are the color of dirty window glass, so sparkling is a real effort. His snow-blond hair had been freshly buzzed. The crewcut was so short I could see scalp.
"Have a seat, Anita."
I tossed the envelope on his desk and sat down. "What are you up to, Bert?" His smile widened. He usually didn't waste the smile on anybody but clients. He certainly didn't waste it on me. "You looked at the pictures?"
"Yeah, what of it?"
"Could you raise them from the dead?"
I frowned at him and sipped my coffee. "How old are they?"
"You couldn't tell from the pictures?"
"In person I could tell you, but not just from pictures. Answer the question."
"Around two hundred years."
I just stared at him. "Most animators couldn't raise a zombie that old without a human sacrifice."
"But you can," he said.
"Yeah. I didn't see any headstones in the pictures. Do we have any names?"
"Why?"
I shook my head. He'd been the boss for five years, started the company when it was just him and Manny, and he didn't know shit about raising the dead. "How can you hang around a bunch of zombie-raisers for this many years and know so little about what we do?"
The smile slipped a little, the glow beginning to fade from his eyes. "Why do you need names?"
"You use names to call the zombie from the grave."
"Without a name you can't raise them?"
"Theoretically, no," I said.
"But you can do it," he said. I didn't like how sure he was.
"Yeah, I can do it. John can probably do it, too.
They were powerful, and sad.
There was nothing but the photos. No explanation. Bert had said to come to his office after I'd looked at them. He'd explain everything. Yeah, I believed that. The Easter Bunny is a friend of mine, too.
I gathered the pictures up, slipped them into the envelope, picked my coffee mug up in the other hand, and went for the door.
There was no one at the desk. Craig had gone home. Mary, our daytime secretary, didn't get in until eight. There was a two-hour space of time when the office was unmanned. That Bert had called me into the office when we were the only ones there bothered me a lot. Why the secrecy?
Bert's office door was open. He sat behind his desk, drinking coffee, shuffling some papers around. He glanced up, smiled, and motioned me closer. The smile bothered me. Bert was never pleasant unless he wanted something.
His thousand-dollar suit framed a white-on-white shirt and tie. His grey eyes sparkled with good cheer. His eyes are the color of dirty window glass, so sparkling is a real effort. His snow-blond hair had been freshly buzzed. The crewcut was so short I could see scalp.
"Have a seat, Anita."
I tossed the envelope on his desk and sat down. "What are you up to, Bert?" His smile widened. He usually didn't waste the smile on anybody but clients. He certainly didn't waste it on me. "You looked at the pictures?"
"Yeah, what of it?"
"Could you raise them from the dead?"
I frowned at him and sipped my coffee. "How old are they?"
"You couldn't tell from the pictures?"
"In person I could tell you, but not just from pictures. Answer the question."
"Around two hundred years."
I just stared at him. "Most animators couldn't raise a zombie that old without a human sacrifice."
"But you can," he said.
"Yeah. I didn't see any headstones in the pictures. Do we have any names?"
"Why?"
I shook my head. He'd been the boss for five years, started the company when it was just him and Manny, and he didn't know shit about raising the dead. "How can you hang around a bunch of zombie-raisers for this many years and know so little about what we do?"
The smile slipped a little, the glow beginning to fade from his eyes. "Why do you need names?"
"You use names to call the zombie from the grave."
"Without a name you can't raise them?"
"Theoretically, no," I said.
"But you can do it," he said. I didn't like how sure he was.
"Yeah, I can do it. John can probably do it, too.