“They say it protects them,” said Det. Kuzemchenko. He stabbed a smouldering butt into his ashtray for emphasis.

Sgt. Davis sipped incredulously at his cold coffee, the undissolved creamer gritting against his teeth. “Ridiculous. Those shambling corpses haven’t an ounce of self-awareness left.”

“They still say that this other undead protects them. Chases away folks out to burst braincases. It’s killed more than one of them, and it seems to have a lot more dexterity and skill than the others we’ve seen rising lately, especially with all the new wards.” Kuzemchenko tapped his computer screen. “We’ve got witnesses and statements.”

“So what’s that mean to you, then?” said Davis.

“I think we’ve got an undead vigilante on our hands. And I’m not quite sure what to do about it.”

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