Del bello by Emanuele Severino

By Emanuele Severino

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By Emanuele Severino

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I winced. She lay still, her chest slowly rising and falling. “So much for not scaring anyone,” I muttered. Chalice’s voice was deeper than mine. It felt powerful, like I could scream to wake the dead. No pun intended. I crouched next to Pat and checked her head, but found no gushing wound. Just a small lump. It’s not every day that someone sees a reanimated corpse. Likewise, it’s not every day a person becomes a reanimated corpse. My day was decidedly much worse, so I did the first sensible thing that came to mind.

Danika’s voice telling me to run. Three hundred dead. It was the price they paid for harboring a fugitive Hunter. Fugitive for a crime she didn’t even commit. I hadn’t understood it then, and I still didn’t. We’d been lured to Halfie territory and attacked. So why come after me less than ten minutes after I reported the assault? Why was I dodging the bullets of other Hunters, instead of working with them to learn who set us up in the first place? If I knew any of that before I died, it was lost to a well in the Swiss cheese mess of my memories.

The Department would file me away as Neutralized. Normally they allowed Triads to operate under our own rules, answerable only to our Handlers, who answered to the brass—three key people in the Metro Police. Until someone really, truly screwed up. The phone rang. I yelped and jumped back, slamming my elbow into the corner of the door. Needles lanced up my right arm, numbing the nerves. Fucking funny bone. Two rings, sharp and clear. I spun in a complete circle, halfway in the booth, surveying the surrounding buildings.

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