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victims of the fire. They were nurses, and doctors and candy stripers, and they’d died when their patients fed on them. Some of them were so badly ravaged they were barely recognizable as human. They were still moving, though, and they were still hungry. They dragged themselves along the white tile, leaving smearedblood trails behind them, and they reached for me eagerly before I tore their spirits free.
    It took a little over three hours to reach the top floor of the hospital. When we were finished with the zombies, we started back down, floor by floor, glamouring the surviving employees and patients. None of them would remember what had happened and I felt like we were doing them a kindness.
    It was a pretty thin cover-up and I knew there’d be an investigation. A lot of questions would be asked but none of them would have any real answers. There were going to be a lot of bodies but in the end it wouldn’t lead anywhere. No witnesses, no leads, no case.
    When we arrived at Broadway Hospital for the second phase of the cleanup, Agents Lowell and Granato were standing outside by their black sedan.
    â€œJesus Christ,” I said. “As if I don’t have enough to worry about without these fucking guys showing up. Honey, y’all hang back and let me handle this.”
    Agent Lowell spoke as I walked up to them. “Ms. Riley, please tell me you didn’t have anything to do with this.”
    â€œI’m not in the business of raising zombies,” I said. The fact they were here meant they already knew what was going on. No point in lying about it.
    â€œAnd the project fire?” asked Granato. He always wanted to be the hard ass.
    â€œNot guilty, but I know who did it. We’ll take care of it.”
    â€œAnd do you know who’s responsible for the zombies?” Lowell asked.
    â€œI was hoping you might know what’s going on. Before this, it was just a couple of gangsters.” Tony and Keshawnhadn’t really been gangsters, but it would have been too fine a distinction for Lowell and Granato.
    â€œIt’s not just gangsters and it’s not just the victims of the fire. We’ve gotten reports from all over L.A.—everyone who dies is getting back up.”
    â€œI figured it would go that way. And Stag doesn’t have any intelligence on this thing?” Homeland Security’s Special Threat Assessment Group had compiled a lot of research on the supernatural, even if Lowell and Granato were the only agents with any juice.
    â€œWe assume it’s a PNC,” Lowell said.
    I’d gotten enough of asking him to explain his fucking acronyms the first time we met, when the sidhe came across in what Stag called an MIE—a Major Incursion Event. I glared at him and waited for the translation.
    â€œParanormal Contagion,” he said finally. “You know, a zombie plague.”
    â€œJesus Christ, not you guys, too.”
    â€œI can tell you this,” said Granato, “if there’s anything that concerns the government more than an MIE it’s a PNC.”
    â€œThis is extremely serious, Ms. Riley,” Lowell said. “We can’t isolate the pathogen or identify the vector, so we have no way of containing the outbreak. We could lose the city, just for starters. That pushes most of the contingency plans off the table and the decision-makers go right to the unconventional protocols.”
    It seemed like every time there was a little supernatural hiccup, someone in the government wanted to reach for the red button. “It’s not a zombie plague, Lowell. I got bit by one of the damn things, and I feel fine—as fine as I can, considering I just had to clear a hundred-plus zombies out of Centinela Hospital.”
    â€œHow do you explain what’s happening, then?”
    I exhaled slowly and shook my head. “Beats the hell out of me. From what you said, everyone that dies is turning into a zombie—everyone, no