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window, etching it with their fury. They were on us until the curb at the next street, where a sliding pivot flung them from their purchase on the bumper.
    Markham planted himself in the middle of the street and bellowed. The blast of expectorated blood should have emptied him. The eruption was conical and expanded, catching on the buildings, and sending rivulets down the gray glass. He was still there when I turned onto Denny Avenue.
    Blood rained from the sky.
    21 A butt-load, which is far worse than an actual shit-load, in that a butt-load is perpetually hangin’ on. You know what I mean.
    22 I may be exaggerating, but only slightly.
    23
Zombie Wear Daily:
The source for the fashion-conscious zombie.
    24 Had it not been a blackened husk, of course.
    25 As far as screams go, blood curdling is the way to go. Don’t settle, victims.
    26 No small feat in stilettos.

Chapter 4

Winos, Witches and
Winnebagos
    Willing to relocate? Enthusiastic about the recent strides in clairvoyant technology? Leading medium accepting applications for Psychic Technicians 1 and 2, must have excellent communication skills and triple-digit Intelligence Quotient.
    —Employment Section,
Seattle Supernatural Daily
    We didn’t really talk about our next step, it just sort of … happened. No one even spoke until the car was barreling up Interstate 90 toward the pass, Mr. Kim snoring quietly in the back. We all looked like zombies, even the two that weren’t.
    I turned on the radio.
    “A mysterious red rain fell on the downtown core, around 1:00 this morning,” a man’s voice reported. “Centered just north of Belltown, the odd substance, that some described as diluted blood, fell for only a few minutes, but the evidence of the event can be found on
every car, building, and bystander unfortunate enough to be caught in the downpour. We talked to Mara, a waitress and witness to the bizarre rain.”
    “The reapers are gonna have to work a miracle to sort this out,” Wendy said. 27
    “No doubt, they’ll be working those little asses all night cleaning the streets and washing memories.”
    Gil squeezed his torso between the front seats, elbows up on the seat backs. “I almost feel sorry for them.”
    “Sh! I’m listening.” I cranked the volume up.
    “It happened all quick. Like super sudden. I’d just stepped out the door when the first drops fell. I’d be pissed if it weren’t a uniform.”
    “Mara’s shirt is covered with red spots and streaks, much like everything else in the area. The police are treating it like a crime scene at this point …”
    There was a pause in the news report, a subtle crackling static that seemed to take over for only a few seconds, but was likely much longer. I looked at Wendy, who nodded. Gil slid back into his seat, relief spreading across his face. The interruption subsided.
    “We have with us Seattle Police Department spokeswoman, Gail Charles. Officer Charles, have you found the source of this unusual—”
    “Absolutely—nothing of any import, simply a busted water main and a little rust. City water is on its way.”
    That was quick.
    The reapers wielded their magic with the impatience of only children. I imagined the scowls of contempt on their faces as they moved through the crowds, snapping fingers and clearing minds, all with the springy-stepped footing of child stars. The massive mouth portal would be open, chomping at the blood debris, and licking windows clean.
    “I wish I could have seen them show up,” Wendy said.
    “Ew. I don’t.” I glowered. “I owe those brats twenty grand for last time I cut myself. If I’m not more careful, I’m gonna be broke and broken. Plus, they’re just fucking creepy.”
    “I think they’re adorable.”
    “So you’ve worked through that porcelain doll phobia, then.”
    “Shut up.” Wendy’s eyes squinted.
    “No.
You
shut up.”
    “You’re the one that made us go to Markham’s club.”
    “How was I supposed to know? It’s all Gil’s