|Annotation:||'The older the zombie, the bigger the death needed to raise it.'|
After a few centuries, the only death 'big enough' is a human sacrifice. I know, because I'm an animator. My name is Anita Blake
Working for Animators, Inc., is just a job – like selling insurance. But all the money in the world wasn't enough for me to take on the particular job Harlod Gaynor was offering.
Somebody else did, though – a rogue animator. Now he's not just raising the dead... he's raising Hell.
And it's up to me to stop it...
I felt bad. Itchy, grumpy, restless. I was mad at Harold Gaynor for victimizing Wanda. Mad at Wanda for allowing it. Angry with myself for not being able to do anything about it. I was pissed at the whole world tonight. I'd learned what Gaynor wanted me to do. And it didn't help a damn bit.
'There will always be victims, Anita,' Jean-Claude said. 'Predators and prey, it is the way of the world.'
I glared up at him. 'I thought you couldn't read me anymore.'
'I cannot read your mind or your thoughts, only your face and what I Know of you.'
I didn't want to know that Jean-Claude knew me that well. That intimately 'Go away Jean-Claude, just go away.'
'As you like, ma petite.' And just like that he was gone. A rush of wind, then nothing.
'Show-off,' I murmured...