Walking In the Midst of Fire: A Remy Chandler Novel by Sniegoski Thomas E

Author:Sniegoski, Thomas E. [Sniegoski, Thomas E.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2013-08-06T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Remy and the glamour-wearing Malatesta approached the entrance to Rapture.

A doorman, a huge specimen of inhumanity squeezed into a black tuxedo, was greeting people at the door and checking their keys.

“Do you have the key?” Remy asked from the side of his mouth.

“Got it,” Malatesta said, holding it up for Remy to see.

In front of them, an elderly woman and a much younger male were greeted and allowed to step inside with just a casual glance, and Remy hoped that it would be just as easy for them.

Malatesta presented the black key for the doorman to see, looking straight ahead as he was about to pass through the entrance. Remy hugged closely behind the sorcerer, thinking that maybe something would go right for them.

The doorman’s large hand planted itself in the center of Remy’s chest, stopping him.

“Excuse me, General,” the doorman said. His voice was rough, as if it were a strain to speak.

The hand resting upon Remy’s chest was like ice, and closer examination of the man showed that he probably hadn’t been alive for quite some time. Zombies were all the rage in supernatural circles, he was hearing. They never got tired, and he guessed that they seldom complained about the long hours, and the low pay. They were probably just happy not to be rotting in a grave someplace.

This particular walking dead man must have been a professional wrestler or some sort of bodybuilder before he shuffled off this mortal coil to Zombieville.

Malatesta turned, wearing a look of annoyance perfect for the face of the angel general.

“Is there a problem?”

The zombie shifted on cinder-block-sized feet. “Actually, sir, there is.”

Malatesta glared like a true champion. He’s good at this, Remy thought. Damn good.

“And what might this problem be?” Malatesta demanded in his best authoritative tone.

“We know who you are,” the zombie said. “But who is he?”

The walking dead man pointed a finger at him that looked like a big, gray Italian sausage.

Remy decided to keep his mouth shut, and trust Malatesta’s skills. If he had been working for the Vatican all these years, he must have learned something about throwing weight around.

“He is my guest,” Malatesta declared.

“Yes, of course,” the zombie stammered. “But the rules of the house state—”

“The rules of the house don’t apply to someone like me,” Malatesta growled. “Do you have any idea what my presence in your establishment does for your reputation?”

“I’m sure that—”

“I don’t think you do,” the disguised sorcerer said, stepping in close to the animated dead man.

“Sir, we must have the proper verification of all guests before—”

“He is Remiel, of the host Seraphim,” Malatesta spoke in his most booming voice. “One of Heaven’s finest warriors, who fought by my side during the Great War with the Morningstar.”

The zombie looked away from the general to fix Remy in a milky stare.

“I don’t like to brag,” Remy said with a smile and a shrug of modesty.

“I believe that is all you really need to know,” Malatesta said.

The zombie looked as though he might continue the argument, but thought better of it.

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