One Foot in the Grave: An Almost Zombie story

Chapter Thirteen: Inka, Binka, Bottle of Ink.

"You interest me, zombie."

"I don't mean to." I cross my arms.

"Nevertheless." The vampire holds out one hand. "I'm Ink."

"I'm Isis," I say, taking her hand in mine. It's cool to the touch.

Her hand closes around mine. Firmly. She clearly has no intention of letting me go. "What brings you here?"

She's an anonymous vampire; there's no reason in the world not to tell her all about Andrew and Father Moss's church. Except for the sheer embarrassment of it. So I tell her about discovering the church, but not about my ex, ending with 'And so Daniel asked me out."

"I am familiar with the gargoyle's church and the reasons behind it." She tilts her head to one side. "Are you?"

"Not really." I shrug. "Do I need to be?"

"Have you met the witch and her daughter yet?"

I blink. "I've met Lydia, but who's her daughter?"

Ink shrugs. "It's not my concern," she says. "Merely an idle curiosity."

I file it away for future reference. "Why isn't there music playing down here? I saw the drum set upstairs."

She nods toward the center of the room. "We don't need music to dance."

I look. My heart clenches. A woman with long red hair and skin whiter than mine is whirling gracefully through the filmy beings littering both the shadows and the circles of light. She is tall and long legged; there's not an ounce of fat anywhere on her, and when she smiles at me my palms remember how to sweat.

"What's that?" My voice cracks on the last word. Holy Mother, whatever that thing is, I want no part of it. Ever.

"That's Lorii Martin, our local banshee."

"Don't banshees kill people?"

The banshee stops whirling and walks toward us, hips swaying. When she speaks, her voice is liquid smoke. "I'm not a murderer. I only let people know when their time is over."

Oh. "How do you do that?" I have to ask. Of course I do.

"My screams are knives from Heaven. I shred souls and give those fortunate enough to hear my true voice time to put their petty human affairs to rest."

"Lorii!" Ink snaps, and the banshee's eyes refocus on me.

The woman blinks incredible green eyes and smiles again. "But I'll never visit you," she says. "You don't have enough soul to shred." She stamps her feet in a one-two pattern, and whirls back to the center of the floor.

I spin to face Ink. "Is she saying I have no soul?"

"Would it make a difference?"

I stare at the vampire. "Of course it would! How can I be alive without a soul?"

"If you cannot tell, how can it matter?"

My mouth snaps shut. I think this is a conversation better suited to someone with experience in spiritual matters. Someone like Father Moss. Speaking of...this seems as good a time as any to get some fantasy clichés answered, and Ink seems really nice. For a bloodsucker. "Can vampires set foot on holy ground?"

"With special dispensation from the priest, yes. Otherwise we burst into flames. Much like what happens to us in direct sunlight."

"Why do undead eat humans?"