Kelly Bennett - Pay Me in Flesh
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- Book:Pay Me in Flesh
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- Publisher:Pinnacle Books
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- Year:2011
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Pay Me in Flesh: summary, description and annotation
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Hungry For Justice - And Brains: Meet Mallory Caine. Attorney at law. Zombie at large. Shes not like those Living Dead losers you see in the movies. She doesnt slobber, drool, or lurch - shes smart, stylish, and sexy. Sure, shes a zombie and a lawyer but, hey, a girls got to eat. When Mallorys not in the courtroom, going head to head with her ex-boyfriend, killer-prosecutor Aaron Argula, shes in the seedy streets of Hollywood, hunting brain after brain. That is, until some psycho starts hunting zombie after zombie...The Defense Never Rests - In Peace: The undead are decapitated, a letter Z carved in their flesh. Mallory doesnt want to lose her head, but shes worried. Like many lawyers in L.A., she doesnt have a soul - a side effect of being a zombie, not a defence attorney. If Mallory dies before she gets her soul back, she goes straight to hell. No appeals. Objection overruled. If the killer isnt stopped, its case closed for zombies everywhere. But Mallory is an undying champion of justice, and she wont go down - without a bite...
Kelly Bennett: author's other books
Who wrote Pay Me in Flesh? Find out the surname, the name of the author of the book and a list of all author's works by series.
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Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1
Ms. Caine, I am troubled.
Judge Dixon Darnell leaned back in his chair, put his feet on the desk in his chambers. I didnt like having to hold you in contempt, but you really left me little choice.
Would it help if I said sorry?
It might.
Sorry, I said, even though I wasnt. Darnell had refused to let me introduce evidence of a cops previous altercation with a client just like mine. Then he made me go ahead with the closing arguments. Even though this was a little DUI to him, it was a real case with a real client to me. And Id talked some junk at the bench about it. Boom. Contempt and three hundred bones.
Ive been watching you closely this whole trial. May I make an observation?
Youre holding the cards, Judge. Three hundred of them. If I didnt pay the fine, I was going to the clink. Im not going to pony up this extortion.
You seem different, the judge said. Harder somehow. You appeared in my court, what, a little over a year ago? You were okay then, but now youve got a chip on your shoulder. Have you been going through anything in your personal life?
Besides being a zombie? Other than being raised from the dead and going on an all-flesh diet? Not really, I said.
He cleared his throat. Darnell was a big man, in an overfed Teamster sort of way. He was balding on top, his steel wool hair buzzed around the sides. As you know I am on the committee overseeing the substance abuse section of the Bar.
Theres a lot of substance abuse in a lot of bars.
He didnt smile. You wouldnt be needing some help in that area, would you?
Judge
I mean it, Ms. Cane. I want to help, I do. But youve had your bra in a twist this entire week.
What did you just say to me?
Relax, theres no one who can hear us. He eyed me like an entomologist studying a rare species of Claptrap. Then he got up and came around to the front of the desk. He parked his ample fundament on the desk edge, his substantial gut at eye-level.
Would you mind addressing me face to face? he said.
What?
Stand, please.
I wanted to take a chunk out of him. Wanted to feast on judge breast right then and there, and I was gripping the arms of the chair hard to keep from diving in. Eating a judge in his own chambers would not look good on the old legal record.
I stood, if only to keep my mind off dinner.
Judge Darnell grabbed my shoulders, pulled me to him, and planted his fleshy lips on mine.
I jerked away. Hey!
I can do things for you, he said.
Judge
If you do things for me.
I dont work that way.
He pawed at me again. I spun away.
I can also make life hell, he said.
Now look, Judge, you dont want to do this.
Oh, but I do.
This isnt 1964. What kind of stuff do you think you can pull here?
I think youre beautiful, he said. And dangerous. Im dangerous, too. Think of what we could do together.
Gack! I did not want to think that, unless it meant him willingly removing his head so I could eat his brain.
Judge, do you want this story getting out? Because Im this close.
Darnell sighed deeply. Shook his head. No one will believe you. I just slapped you with contempt. Theyll say youre making this up.
I looked at him and wanted to consume every bit of him above the waist. You are one sick meal, I said.
What?
Male . One sick male.
Think very carefully about what you say to me.
Give me a second. Okay. You are one sick male.
I tried to help you. Just remember that. He punched a button on his desk phone. A moment later the door opened and his courtroom bailiff came in.
Lockup, Judge Darnell said.
Practicing law in L.A. is hard. Especially if youre dead.
I was murdered a year ago. The cops dont know who did it. Ive been trying to find out ever since.
Then someone brought me back to life. I dont know who that was, either, but I have to find him. Or her. Because if I dont, my soul, wherever it is now, goes to hell. If Im killed as a zombie, thats what happens, as far as Ive been able to determine.
Which is a drag, because now I have to eat flesh to stay alive. Human flesh. Especially brains.
That can be hard on my fellow citizens.
On top of all that I have to make a living.
I defend people accused of crimes.
Like my current client, the pirate musician John Captain Blarney Matthews. Who was accused of DUI. And who hadnt paid me yet.
I was busting my hump for him in court, but Darnell was against me all the way. Now I knew why.
Which is how I got jammed in the lockup in the courthouse. Me. In the spot where I usually came to visit my own clients before they came into court.
I was pacing around, fuming, practicing some of my street defense moves, when someone came to the grated window and called my name.
I went to the door and my jaw almost hit the ground. Literally. I put my hand under my chin. Sometimes the old jaw muscles loosen. Undead sinews are not the best in town.
Aaron! What the
Mallory, this so isnt you, Aaron Argula said.
Why are you even here?
Im back in town. Working for the DA. Aarons hair was thick and black, his eyes acetylene blue. I had fallen into those eyes back in law school, in a big way. It didnt hurt that a face to die for sat on top of the broad shoulders of a former defensive back for Cal.
But I mean what are you doing back here, at the lockup? I said.
I heard out in the hallway the judge held you in contempt, Aaron said. Still ticking people off, huh?
When I didnt answer, Aaron said, What do you say we get out of here and go have a civilized drink?
Um, Aaron, you may have noticed Im incarcerated.
A perversion of justice soon to be remedied. He turned.
Hey, where you going?
To pay your fine, he said.
No! I cant have you
Its the least I can do for an old friend, he said, and sped off down the corridor.
Half an hour later we were having martinis at No, the bar at the Omni Hotel on Olive Street. I like the classicBeefeater up with two olives. I can barely taste it on my undead tongue, but it does penetrate the suspended animation of my brain.
It also keeps the Voice at bay on lonely nights. But more of the Voice later.
Aarons a vodka man. We sat outside, a stones throw from the orange-and-black control house of Angels Flight.
Aaron slipped a cigar out of the inner pocket of his coat. You mind?
Be my guest, I said. When did you pick up that habit?
Up north, searching for my inner Churchill. He unwrapped the cigar and snipped the end with a little cutter. I had to admire his technique. He lit the cigar with a lighter that shot out its stream of flame. I cant get over how you look, he said. You seem, I dont know, healthier somehow.
I almost snorted an olive out my nose. And so, I said, cutting to the chase, whyd you dump me?
That stopped his easy charm. I took a leisurely sip of my martini and let him squirm. Making people squirm on the witness stand is one of the things I do best. I like to practice it in the outside world, too.
Aaron Argula was two years older than my thirty-five years. He was a third year and I was a One-L when we met at USC Law. He was editor-in-chief of the Law Review . The year before hed won the schools Moot Court competition. Thats where the entire second year class engages in a mock Supreme Court case, in teams of two. The final round is two teams arguing before three sitting justicestwo from California, and one from a federal bench.
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