Hull gestured wildly, taking in half the surrounding block.
"Did you see them?"
"No, I only smelled them. But they were close. I think they were coming for me. I ran into a crowd and that seemed to scare them off."
Hull led us to where he'd smelled the zombies. They had indeed been there--both of them--along a side road. Jeremy and Jaime took Hull aside then, luring him with the promise of a drink to calm his nerves. Before they left, though, Jeremy changed his mind about our search--we'd do it as humans.
We found the zombie trails easily enough. As for Jack, it was impossible to lift a decent suspect trail. I had no idea what he smelled like, and at least a dozen other trails in that alley were recent enough to be his. So I did my best to commit all of them to memory. When I found more of the zombies' trails, I could match up my memories with any human scents following theirs.
Yet after three streets, it became obvious this wasn't as easy as it sounded. No single human trail intertwined with that of the zombies for more than half a block. We could only guess that the stench was too much for Jack, and he'd taken another route. That left us following the zombies, and we did that for an hour, but kept losing the trail as it crossed roads.
When we checked in with Jeremy, he decided that was enough. What he'd hoped for was a scent signature for the killer, and if we weren't going to get that, we'd be better off getting some sleep.
Trust
JEREMY DECIDED TO TAKE HULL BACK TO THE HOTEL WITH us. Hull obviously wanted that--the poor guy was convinced Jack the Ripper and killer zombies were on his tail. We were more worried about Anita Barrington coming after him and trying to "trade" him to Shanahan, but either way, it seemed wise to keep him close.
While some of us wanted to discuss the night's events before turning in, Jeremy refused, feigning exhaustion, with Antonio backing him up, as if they hoped a few yawns would convince us we were tired too. I certainly wasn't. That's the problem with sleeping until early afternoon: twelve hours later, I was still raring to go.
So after we tossed our suitcases into the corner of the room, Clay and I left as Nick made a phone call. We headed into the hall, looking for a diversion...and hoping Jeremy and Antonio might reappear after they were certain Hull had retired.
No such luck. Even after pacing past their door three times, talking loudly, they didn't come out. As we wandered along the hotel corridor, Clay spotted a communal balcony. The sign on the door warned that it was locked after eleven. But when Clay tried the handle, it opened...though I'm sure his extrahard twist helped.
The balcony was about the size of a hotel room, with a brick railing overlooking the streetscape. There were two lounge chairs--one nearly hidden by the wall, the other on the far side, as if the people who'd used them last had been strangers, and had intended to stay that way.
Clay stretched out in the shadow-shrouded lounger. I walked to the railing and looked down at the city.
"Do you think we did it?" I asked.
"Did what?"
"Let him out. With Jaime's seance."
"And none of us noticed him strolling out of that portal?"
I nodded. "You're right."
"Timing's off too. Even if he jumped out the moment Jaime started doing her thing, there's no way he got over to that corner, met up with his zombies, picked out a girl and killed her, all before we finished. Your friend said the 911 call came in almost an hour before she got the news--while we were still in Cabbagetown."
The door slid open behind me. I turned, expecting to see Nick. A slight figure hovered in the doorway. Hull. I nodded, but didn't extend an invitation. He still walked in--right past Clay without seeing him there in the dark--and took a spot beside me at the railing.
"Nice night," Hull said, gazing out at the city.
I nodded.
"It's all very..." He looked around. "Different. It's hard to believe how much can change in a hundred years." He gestured at the side of the hotel. "Hardly a common roadside inn."
A stab of guilt raced through me. Any other time, I'd have been fascinated by Hull's situation, but here I was unable to muster more than a twinge of empathy.
Granted, empathy and I are not close friends, but I can usually put myself in someone else's shoes, imagine his situation and feel the appropriate response. Yet, with Hull, there was nothing. Not even curiosity. Maybe I had a lot on my mind, but I should make the effort.
"This must be..." I began, then shook my head. "I can't imagine what it's like. Did you have a family? Wife, kids?"
He shook his head. "My work took up much of my time, I'm afraid."
I managed a few more questions, but his answers were simple, none opening the gate to anything approaching spirited conversation.
I glanced over at Clay, but it looked as if he'd fallen asleep. No rescue there. Hull just watched me, as if waiting for the n