Page 86 of The Hive Queen

A slippery light teases at the edges of my senses, and I twist to stare toward the back of the van. “I think—”

The radio in Sharpe’s hand crackles. “Sir, we have another person approaching.”

Sharpe’s gaze meets mine, and I nod.

He lifts the walkie-talkie, pressing the button on the side. “Let him through.”

Several minutes pass before a large figure shuffles into the parking lot. As he passes under one of the street lights, the light reflects off of a construction hat perched on his head. He wears a blue flannel and thick blue jeans, with a tool belt wrapped around his waist.

The man must have been at work when he succumbed to the venom from the bee sting.

He heads for the pool of honey and crouches to scoop it up with his fingers, the same way the drone from last night had done.

I give Ailill a nudge, and the zombie shuffles forward, drawing the drone’s attention.

The man rises and heads toward Ailill, his arms opening wide.

Itching fills my ears, and I rub them, but it doesn’t help.

Johannsson tugs on his earlobe. “What is that?”

“The drone’s way of blocking neurotransmitters,” Sharpe says. “If it gets worse, put in the sound-canceling earbuds.”

Johannsson digs a knuckle against his ear. “Why is it working on me? I thought I was immune to magic.”

“Not this kind, apparently.” Sharpe lifts the walkie-talkie. “Target has engaged with the bait. Do not come closer than ten yards without your earbuds in.”

I fiddle with the case in my pocket. Hopefully, they’ll work, because if they don’t, there’s no way we’ll be able to get near the Hive Queen with her drones around.

Johannsson nudges my shoulder. “What is your zombie doing?”

I look back out the window and sigh in frustration when I see Ailill walking backward toward the street, just out of grabbing range. “Being a pain in my ass.”

“Can’t you make it stop?” Johannsson demands.

“I’m not a freaking puppet master.” I tighten my hold on Ailill’s spirit in warning. “All I can do is yank him out of the corpse, and he knows we don’t want that.”

“Time for the bribe, then.” Pen rustles around and produces a six-pack. “Get him to look over here.”

Gods, I hate drinking with the dead. Resigned, I roll down the window so he can see the offering and tug on Ailill’s spirit.

When his head swivels toward us, Pen wiggles the six-pack.

I point to it, then to the drone still shuffling after Ailill.

With a thumbs up, he walks right into the drone’s waiting arms, and the drone walks with him down the street.

Sharpe lifts his walkie-talkie. “The bait has been taken. Do not let the target out of your sight, and do not engage.”

With Ailill no longer fighting me, my shoulders slump with relief.

Marc claps me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll watch your ass while you drink.”

Johannsson looks over at us. “You’re going to give a zombie booze?”

“The dead can’t consume food or liquid, contrary to what horror movies would have you think.” I rub my temples. “It’s why they try to possess the living.”

“You’re going to let that thing into your body?” Johannsson’s lip curls. “That’s nasty.”

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