The Secret Dead (London Bones Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

she was a snake shifter because another NRT followed a few feet behind, holding a giant net on a pole. They weren’t taking any chances on her shifting and slithering away.
    Her thick red hair frizzed out around her face like she was undergoing sunset, and she was wearing only a too-short vest top and a pair of pale pink pants. Stretch-marked skin sagged over the top of her pants. There was no sign of injury on her pale skin. I reached inside for that part of me that recognised the dead and felt a queasy trickle of power flow into my diaphragm.
    Still alive. At least for now.

 
     
     
     
     
    4
     
    Jillie’s eyes rolled, and I saw nothing but the whites—doped to the gills. The NRT in front tugged again. Jillie stumbled towards the orange containment van. She moved slowly—the dogcatchers around her limbs wouldn’t let her do otherwise, despite the guards holding the metal loops. It took some time for the group to negotiate the ramp at the back of the van before she finally disappeared inside.
    There would be a metal cage in the van and places for the loops where they detached from the metal poles, and until she got to the Detention Centre, she’d be completely immobile. Shouts and catcalls rose from the crowd, then died down again.
    My eyes were drawn back to the ruined front door, but neither Malcolm nor Finn appeared. I glanced into the van and wished I hadn’t. The NRTs were in the process of attaching the metal loops to steel rings on the side of the van. I could only imagine what that might feel like, to be drugged and dragged from your home in the freezing cold, in front of all your neighbours. I shivered. Poor Jillie.
    ‘Thought you might turn up early.’
    I turned to see Dunne walking towards me. He’d found a scarf from somewhere and had drawn it up over his neck and mouth against the cold air. The ginger-haired young man followed a step behind.
    ‘I wanted to know,’ I said. ‘Jillie’s alive at least. That’s something.’
    Dunne shrugged. ‘Could be infected. Could be in two days she’d bite your nose off if she had half a chance.’ His voice was muffled behind the scarf. He glanced at me, and his expression softened. ‘Sorry, that was insensitive. You friends?’
    I shook my head. ‘I hardly know her. What about the rest of the family? Malcolm’s got a little boy. I think he’s only two or three. Is he okay?’
    ‘Boy’s in the loft with Brannick. They’re trying to talk them out.’
    I felt a little ill. Another common zombie scenario: hostages, except their demands never included pizza. We were interrupted as an NRT I didn’t recognise beckoned to Dunne from the remains of the front door. Dunne turned to me. ‘Excuse me.’ He walked towards the house and went inside.
    I glanced upwards. The house had originally been two stories like the others in the street, but at some time a timber loft extension had been added, turning Malcolm’s house into a rectangular box. No light showed from the single loft window.
    The ginger policeman turned to me. ‘Zombie ran up with the boy the moment they bashed in the door,’ he said, putting his hand out. ‘Shawn Little.’
    ‘Vivia Brisk,’ I said, grateful for the distraction. I didn’t want to think about what was going on up there in the dark. His hand was dry and warm.
    ‘So this is what a death witch looks like. Dunne told me you were ugly as sin, but I couldn’t quite picture it till now.’
    ‘Wow, thanks. I always love a compliment.’
    ‘No, seriously. You look like a Halloween costume,’ he said earnestly, as if I just didn’t get it. ‘Ugh, you smell like death too.’
    What was with this wally? I gave him a closer look. He was taller than me, but not by much. His tailored suit did its best to disguise the beer belly, but couldn’t hide the double chin. He smelt like warm fur and tuna, and his eyes were an unnaturally bright shade of green. ‘You’re not human.’
    He smiled. His teeth were very white. ‘Neither are