Magic Graves

Andrea informed me. "And my signature doesn't look like scratches of a drunken chicken in the dirt."
    "Screw you."
    "Yeah, yeah. Go have some fun."
    "I need a shower," I told Curran. "I'll see you in ten minutes."
    *** *** ***

    It was Friday, eight o'clock on a warm spring night, my hair was brushed, my clothes were clean and slime-free, and I was going out with the Beast Lord. Curran drove, while I studied the file in my lap, which Jim, the Pack's Security Chief, had given to Curran for me before his Majesty left the Keep.
    The file contained a hand-written explanation with some numbers. Apparently Solomon Red, who was a closet shapeshifter and the Guild's now deceased founder, had bequeathed seventeen percent of the Guild's ownership to the Pack. The Guild had been in limbo since his death, with Mark wanting to assume leadership and veteran mercs opposing him. Apparently I had seniority and since I was the Curran's Consort, it was up to me to cast the deciding vote. Great. At least it explained the phone call.
    I glanced at Curran in the driver seat. Even at rest, like he was now, relaxed and driving, he emanated a kind of coiled power. He was built to kill, his body a blend of hard, powerful muscle and supple quickness and something in the way he carried himself telegraphed a shocking potential for violence and willingness, no, entitlement, to unleash it at the slightest provocation. He seemed to occupy a much larger space than his body permitted and he was impossible to ignore. This potential for violence used to alarm me. Now I just took it as a part of him. Here is my sugar woogums: his eyes are grey, his hair is blond, and if you piss him off, he'll sprout giant claws and roar like thunder.
    Curran caught me looking and flexed. Carved muscles bulged on his arms. Curran winked. "Hey baby."
    I cracked up. "So where we're going?"
    "Arirang," Curran said. "It's a nice Korean place, Kate. They have charcoal grills at the tables. They bring you meat and you cook it any way you want."
    Figured. Left to his own devices, Curran consumed only meat, spiced with an occasional desert. "That's nice for me, but what will your vegetarian Majesty eat?"
    Curran gave me a flat look. "I can always drive to a burger joint instead."
    "Oh, so you'd throw a burger down my throat and expect making out in the back seat?"
    He grinned. "We can do it in the front seat instead, if you prefer. Or on the hood of the car."
    "I am not doing it on the hood of the car."
    "Is that a dare?"
    Why me?
    "Kate?"
    "Keep your mind on the road, your Furriness."
    The city rolled by, twisted by magic, battered and bruised but still standing. The night swallowed the ruins, hiding the sad husks of once mighty, tall buildings. New houses flanked the street, constructed by hand with wood, stone and brick to withstand magic's jaws.
    I rolled down the window and let the night in. It floated into the car, spring and a hint of wood smoke from a distant fire. Somewhere a lone dog barked out of boredom, each woof punctuated by a long pause, probably to see if the owners would let him in.
    Ten minutes later we pulled into a long empty parking lot, flanked by old office buildings that now housed Asian shops. A typical stone building with huge store-front windows sat at the very end, marked by a sign that read Arirang.
    "This is the place?"
    "Mhm," Curran said.
    "I thought you said it was a Korean restaurant." For some reason I had expected a hanok house with a curved tiled roof and a wide front porch.
    "It is."
    "It looks like Western Sizzlin."
    "Will you just trust me? It's a nice place..." Curran braked, and the Pack Jeep screeched to a stop.
    Two skeletally thin vampires sat at the front of the restaurant, tethered to the horse rail with chains looped over their heads. Pale, hairless, dried like leathery jerky, the undead stared at us with mad glowing eyes. Death had robbed them of their cognizance and will, leaving behind mindless body shells driven only by bloodlust. On their own, the bloodsuckers would slaughter anything alive and keep killing until nothing breathing remained. Their empty minds made a perfect vehicle for necromancers, who telepathically navigated them like remote controlled cars.
    Curran glared at the vampires through the windshield. Ninety percent of the vampires belonged to the People, a weird hybrid of a corporation and a research institute. We both despised the People and everything they stood for.
    I couldn't resist. "I thought you said