"The older the zombie, the bigger the death needed to raise it."

After a few centuries, the only death "big enough" is a human sacrafice. I know, because I'm an animator. My name is Anita Blake.

Working for Animators, Inc., is just a job - like selling insurance. But all the money in the world wasn't enough for me to take on the particular job Harold Gaynor was offering.

Somebody else did though - a rouge animator. Now he's not just raising the dead....he's raising Hell.

And it's up to me to stop it.....

"The older the zombie, the bigger the death needed to raise it."

Interlude with the vampire

I felt bad. Itchy, grumpy, restless. I was mad at Harold Gaynor for victimizing Wanda. Mad at Wanda for allowing it. Angry with myself for not being able to do anything about it. I was pissed at the whole world tonight. I'd learned what Gaynor wanted me to do. And it didn't help a damn bit.

"There will always be victims, Anita," Jean-Claude said. "Predators and prey, it is the way of the world."

I glared up at him. "I thought you couldn't read me anymore."

"I cannot read your mind or your thoughts, only your face and what I know of you."

I didn't want to know that Jean-Claude knew me that well. That intimately. "Go away, Jean-Claude, just go away."

"As you like ma petite," And just like that he was gone. A rush of wind and then nothing.

"Show off," I muttered.